Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (39 page)

BOOK: Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse)
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Tierielle looked pleased. “Tell Sword Master Karethielle that I sent you. I will send notice to her of the
djari
and she will see to your training.”

Analindë tried not to blanch; the horror stories of Sword Master Karethielle were legion. “Thank you, it will be my honor,” she managed to say gracefully.

Erulissé and Analindë took their leave of the retired Sword Sworn and quickly walked in silence up the narrow road. Analindë was in complete shock. Her worries were exploding around her, chasing peace from her mind and leaving only chaos. Analindë tugged her cloak closer and wished that winter would end. When they reached sunlight at the end of the alley, Analindë stepped to the side and sagged against the sun-warmed wall. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Erulissé took one look at her and said, “I know just the place. Come, let’s go get lunch; it’s two streets over from here.” They quickly walked toward the busier part of town. Analindë didn’t think, but simply trailed along; depression was starting to ebb in on her. One dark alleyway and one bright crowded street later, Erulissé tugged her out of the chilling wind and into a cozy restaurant called
The Hidden Garden
. The lunch rush was just ending so Erulissé commandeered them one of the better tables. They walked past the crowded tables in front to the secluded area of the back garden atrium.

The atrium was nice. The green trees surrounding them were pleasant; a fountain filled the room with a wash of sound. They ended up in a private alcove; smaller bushy plants hid them from view and Analindë felt herself relax. The muscles in her neck began to unknot and her racing heart calmed. The continuous splash of water was soothing; the sound echoed off the stone floors and walls, lulling her to think of nothing, which was pleasant for a change.

Analindë jumped when Erulissé shoved a tea cup into her hands.

“Drink.”

She sipped the tea. It burned her tongue. She drank it anyway. A second later, a plate full of tiny sandwiches appeared in front of her.

“Eat.”

Analindë bit into one of the sandwiches. Cucumbers, herbed goat cheese and creamy butter. She was suddenly ravenous. She wolfed down three of the tiny squares, grabbed a fourth, then stopped with it halfway to her mouth.

“Why is this happening to me?” She sought out her friend’s eyes hoping for reassurance. She found agitation instead.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s just too much.” She shoved the fourth sandwich in her mouth and chewed, swallowed, thought about shoving another sandwich in her mouth so she wouldn’t have to talk, then blurted out, “My parents, my home, the Humans. The sudden power and understanding.” She shivered. Pedar’s oath, the War Room, Yeslinthan, and the void. “Now the
djari
. Will it ever stop? Why me? Why all at once?”

Erulissé reached out to grip her hand, hard. “Analindë,” tears streamed down her friend’s face. “I don’t know why this is all happening, but I
am
here for you. Will always be here for you. If you need help and I can’t fill the need, I’ll find someone who can.” And she would. With Erulissé’s vast network of friends, coupled with her amiable personality, she’d get anyone or anything Analindë could ever need. Except what she wanted most. Her family. Tears smarted at Analindë’s eyes; she inhaled deeply and fanned her face with her free hand while Erulissé gripped the other.

They stayed like that for a long time, until Analindë had finally calmed and their tea had grown cold.

The love and support she felt from Erulissé was balm to her soul. It brought peace to her heart. A different sort of peace, not of tranquility, but of surety.

“I–”

A chair scraped against the stone floor and Analindë stilled. She didn’t want to be overheard. Erulissé bobbed up to peer over the leafy bushes, searching for the room for other occupants.

The dim flutter in the void vividly sparked to life. It felt like it was bearing down upon her, sitting right beside her. Analindë’s hand darted out to grab Erulissé, yanking her down. Annoyed, Erulissé looked at her and stilled.

“What?” She mouthed the word, before slinking back into her chair.

“The Traitor.” Analindë mouthed back and pointed in the direction of the sound they’d heard.

Erulissé’s face turned ashen.

“Did you check the room?” a strong male voice asked.

“No, but . . . okay, I’ll check.”

Analindë panicked. They were as good as dead. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she listened to footsteps circling around the room. She heard the shake of leaves as branches were pushed to the side. Erulissé half crouched, craning her neck around searching for an exit. Any exit. There were no doors—or windows suitable for clambering out of—within reach. The only
real
exit was on the far side of the room.

Footsteps grew closer. They were trapped.

Unless
. . . Analindë sprang to her feet, pushed Erulissé back into her chair, and shoved the new sword into her arms. She grabbed her winter cloak, stepped behind Erulissé and clamped her hand down on her friend’s shoulder. Then, she cast a flat shield to cover them both and quickly wove a shield of invisibility.

Erulissé tensed and Analindë squeezed her shoulder, willing her to remain quiet. Erulissé would have seen the shimmer of the invisibility shield from the inside, but wouldn’t have known what Analindë had done. She had no idea how Erulissé would experience the numbness and disorientation of the flat shield.

The footsteps sounded louder and an elven man, wearing the jade green robes of The Southern Forest, rounded the corner into their alcove. He stopped abruptly and Analindë tensed. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the table.

He looked away, scanning the secluded area as he walked forward to stick his finger into her cup of tea. What was he doing?

Less than a pace away, Erulissé and Analindë did not move and dared not breathe.

He shook his finger dry and grabbed one of the tiny cucumber sandwiches and ate it. He licked his lips and grabbed the plate as he turned to walk away. But he stopped before completely exiting the alcove to breathe in deeply. He spun back around and walked back to the table.

No, not back to the table but back to the chair where Erulissé sat and that Analindë stood behind. He sniffed again while looking down at the chair.

Erulissé’s perfume!

She hadn’t woven the shield for scent.

She hadn’t imagined.

She didn’t dare shift the weave now.

He’d sense it.

The man leaned forward over Erulissé and sniffed again. She shrank back slightly. The man breathed in deeply once more, then shrugged. He straightened, plopped another sandwich into his mouth and strode out of the alcove.

“All is clear Veralcar.”

“Good.”

Analindë let out a shaky breath.

Erulissé panted in terror.

Analindë slowly hunched her shoulders forward attempting to loosen the rigid tenseness that filled her. She felt brittle, fragile. An aching throbbing migraine worked its way up the right-hand side of her neck to her forehead. That she could feel it through the use of the flat shield surprised her. The new pain settled in deeply and began to throb.

They heard a door slam, she jumped. No!

Please, let that be the front door! Please, let that be the front door.
If that was the door to the atrium they’d be trapped indefinitely. She heard the approach of leather boots slapping against stone and relaxed. They could still get out. As soon as both Erulissé and Analindë stopped shaking, they’d leave.

“Narion, Thorontur already checked. The room is clear,” said Veralcar.

“Good. Are you going to share?”

“Maybe,” Thorontur answered. Analindë heard the crunch of cucumber. The flutter in her mind grew brighter as new footsteps entered the room.

“Dûrion, well met,” said a new voice.

“Not well met Mapar. Gildhorn is going to be the death of us all,” Dûrion fumed. Power rippled around him and through the room. The spark in the void was spitting sparks at her; her situation couldn’t have been more perilous. They needed to get out of here. Analindë glanced down at Erulissé. She was still shaking.

“Gildhorn’s a fool. He moved too quickly and ruined everything.”

A rumble of agreement echoed around the room accompanied by the trickling rush of water. Analindë turned, shifted her hand so she maintained contact with Erulissé, then peeked over the tightly packed leaves of the bush behind her. The group had thrown themselves into chairs circling the table in the center of the room. There were five of them in all, tall elven mages, dark haired.

Thorontur, dressed in the jade green robes of the Southern Forest, complained bitterly. “If he would have just waited two weeks longer the humans would have succeeded and we wouldn’t have been in this predicament. The Lindënolwën mages wouldn’t have had warning and blown up their west wing. I had received an invitation to visit. I could have found the books or smuggled the humans in. . . .”

“Gildhorn’s hiding something from us. He’s too happy even though he’s failed,” said Dûrion. The others around him blanched but didn’t elaborate.

“Mapar, you’ll pour,” Veralcar demanded as he surveyed the room.

Mapar grabbed a bottle off the table; it contained a fiery looking liquid. He poured a small amount into each glass and set the bottle back. “
Master
Veralcar,” he snarled.

Veralcar snatched a glass from off the tray, downed it in one swallow, and then poured himself another. The others sipped theirs slowly; Mapar sat down in the remaining chair looking smug in a vile sort of way.

“Now, now children, let’s not squabble. We need to work together to see this through,” said Narnion.

The others bristled at the comment. But understanding the underlying threat, they straightened up to listen.

Narion continued, “We need to come up with a plan. What do we know of the humans’ progress through the mountains?” he asked. A chill ran down Analindë’s spine. She felt Erulissé stand up beside her, then grip her hand.

Dûrion spoke up, “They are trapped in the high passes a few days journey from Mirëdell. The high mages at Mirëdell watch them constantly. Every. Move. They. Make. We’ve practiced blocking their sight now and then but fear giving our location away if we do so for longer periods.”

“We barely saved them from that avalanche,” said Thorontur. “The snows that have been sent will do them in. It’s just a matter of time. They don’t have enough food; the scouts have chased the game away and the wizard will starve to death, which will cause problems.”

“Useless wizard the human is; he can’t even dig his way through the snow,” said Mapar as he flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve.

“Why do we need to help them anyway?” asked Veralcar.

“He has his uses; the books will not hide from him as they would us,” said Dûrion.

“We must get them out of the high passes before spring,” said Narnion.

They needed to get out of here to alert the authorities. Analindë tugged at Erulissé’s hand and she nodded in understanding. The two of them began a slow, soundless shuffle around their table and out of the alcove while Analindë checked and rechecked her shields. She held her breath and her palms became slippery with sweat. The moment they came in view of the Traitors, the two women froze, waiting to see if they’d be noticed.

“They’ve already failed, or hadn’t you noticed?” Veralcar slammed his glass back down onto the table. “We should just go get the books ourselves and leave them to die like the worthless rubbish that they are.”

Analindë released her breath slowly and began to breathe normally again. Fifteen, maybe twenty more steps and they’d make it. She sidled forward and felt Erulissé follow behind.

“Oh shut it Veralcar,” snarled Mapar.

Only ten more paces.

“No, I agree. We should let the humans rot, finish our mission here, then go to the Mountain City ourselves,” said Thorontur.

“The Mountain City has been compromised; we’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“No, I think there’s still a chance that we could have success with the Mountain City. If you remember, no one yet has located the books. That means they’re still there to be found.”

“But we can’t get in there.”

“True, but the humans can.”

“At the moment, it’s a moot point. What is needed is to get the humans to safety and then deal with next steps after that.” Dûrion spoke authoritatively, as if his was the only opinion that mattered amongst the group. “Also, the young lady has proved elusive.”

Analindë froze as her heart thumped painfully in her chest. Erulissé bumped into the back of her. Their gowns rustled, time slowed, water babbled, and Analindë prayed. Dûrion continued, “Unfortunately, Gildhorn yet has use of her, so we need to find a way to lure her out.”

The women moved forward again.

Thorontur sat up straight and sniffed the air.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mapar.

Thorontur frowned. “Probably nothing.”

Five paces.

Four.

“So how do we get them out?” said Veralcar, not picking up on the tension in the room.

Three steps.

“We could build–”

Two.

“We could build what, Dûrion?” said Veralcar.

One.

“Are we sure this place is safe? I could have sworn I just heard–”

And at that they began to run. They bumped into a server halfway down the hall and his tray clattered to the ground. The spark in the void in the back of her mind blazed ferociously and began to follow them; the prickling at the nape of her neck increased. Analindë and Erulissé ignored the server and ducked out the front door. Icy wind buffeted Analindë as she released her shields.

And. Then. They. Ran.

Two streets later, they ducked into an Herbalist’s store and looked out the front window just in time to see the five elven Traitors sweep past. They waited for a moment, then stepped back out of the store, intent on finding the fastest way back to the school.

They walked quickly down the street in the opposite direction, then turned and sprinted down an empty alleyway. They rounded a corner onto an even busier street than the one before and ran straight into Dûrion and Thorontur. Both Analindë and Erulissé shrieked. Thorontur sniffed the air. Dûrion grinned. His hand snaked out and grabbed Analindë’s forearm. Hard. She shivered and her breath hitched. She couldn’t think. Two seconds later and the other three of the Traitors were at their sides.

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