Firewalk (6 page)

Endra pushed open the tent flap and entered carrying two cups.

“Here’s some hot broth and your potion, my lady,” she said kindly. “Drink up and go on to sleep. If the lord comes by to annoy you again, I’ll tell him you’re not to be troubled.”

Kayli drank, grimacing at the bitterness of the potion, but the rich broth was just what she craved.

“Thank you, Endra,” she said. When Endra was gone, she paused only long enough to pull off her boots before she wearily pulled the covers over her and closed her eyes.

It seemed only a moment before she was shaken awake again, and she sleepily murmured, “Endra?” dismayed to think the whole night had already passed.

“No.” The sound of Terralt’s voice shocked Kayli abruptly awake, and she sat up, clutching her blanket tightly to her. The tent was still dark. “Put your boots on.”

It was such an odd request that Kayli hesitated. Terralt cursed and picked up her boots, flinging them at her.

“Put them on or leave them,” he said impatiently. “We’re under attack. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Attack?” Now Kayli moved quickly, pulling on the boots and lacing them haphazardly, snatching the pack and bow case laid ready beside her pallet. “Sarkondish raiders?” She could hear noise now, the sound of fighting, shouts and screams.

“Who else?” Terralt drew his dagger, slit open the back of the tent, and pulled Kayli through the opening. It was raining, a slow drizzle. “Hurry. Our horses are ready.”

Kayli let him push her into the saddle before she protested.

“My maids—Endra—”

“My guards will get them out.” Terralt seized the reins of her horse and spurred his own; both horses bolted. Kayli couldn’t be sure in which direction they were fleeing.

Terralt did not relinquish Maja’s reins, so Kayli simply clung to her belongings and rode through the rain. Her cloak was still in the tent, and she was quickly soaked, but there was nothing to be done.

Maja fared better than her rider. The plains horses had been bred for speed and endurance, and could maintain a hard pace for a long time; in fact, Kayli was certain that Terralt’s leggy but narrow-chested gelding would tire far sooner. She was right. It seemed only a moment before Terralt slowed and dropped back, speaking loudly over the now hard rain.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Kayli brushed sodden hair out of her face. “Are we safely away from the raiders, do you think?”

“I see none following.” Terralt glanced behind him, but shrugged; with the heavy clouds and rain, there was no telling. “My guards were instructed in case of an attack to draw the raiders off from your tent, to give me enough time to get you away. What will your maids do?”

“Scatter and ride whichever way seems safest, back into Bregond or forward along our trail,” Kayli told him. “I only hope none were so stubborn as to wait and look for me.”

“They’ll likely have ridden back into Bregond, then,” Terralt told her. “I think the raiders came from the northeast. I rode somewhat south so we wouldn’t cross their trail. How’s your horse faring?”

“Maja is barely winded,” Kayli told him. “Did we cross back into Bregond, or are we continuing into Agrond?”

“I think we can make Tarkesh, possibly near dawn, with hard riding,” Terralt said. He squinted at Kayli through the darkness. “Are you fit for it?”

“Yes.” In truth Kayli wondered. She was weak from her fast, and so very tired. But there was no alternative. “I can ride as far and as fast as I must.”

“Then take this.” Terralt threw his own cloak around her shoulders. “Raise the hood and keep yourself well wrapped. I’ll continue to lead your horse.”

Kayli wanted to protest, but she kept her silence. Maja was unaccustomed to these wetlands and so was she. If she became separated from Terralt, she would soon be lost in this place.

The cloak was a kind thought, but she was already drenched and chilled through. She shook violently as she rode, occasionally wiping the rain out of her eyes. Obviously the wetlands were determined to earn their name immediately!

They had barely started again, however, when a dark form hurtled silently out of the storm, only the reflection of lightning from bright steel giving warning as the curved sword rose to strike. Terralt’s sword flashed upward almost as quickly, but it was Kayli’s quick reflexes that saved her life; instinctively she threw herself sideways out of the way, her knee hooking around the high pommel so that she rode almost on Maja’s side, then pulled herself back upright almost immediately. Well-trained Maja recognized the maneuver and never faltered, only turning slightly to present a clear field for Kayli’s return stroke, which, unarmed, Kayli could not accomplish.

Kayli scrabbled for her bow case, but by the time she drew her bow and strung it, Terralt had turned his gelding and run it solidly into the Sarkond’s mount, leaping from his saddle to bear the raider down to the ground with him. The two fought with swords, but so closely that in the confusion of dark and rain Kayli did not dare fire a shot lest she hit Terralt. Even as she came to that conclusion, however, Terralt made a fatal strike and the raider collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

Terralt spared no time to enjoy his victory; he was back in the saddle before Kayli finished repacking her bow. Panting, he snatched up Maja’s reins, and Kayli saw blood on his sleeve.

“Are you badly hurt?” she asked, reaching toward him. Terralt shook his head impatiently.

“Just a scratch,” he said. “We’d better move on quickly. He couldn’t have been alone.”

Kayli had to admit the sense of his words, and she made no protest as Terralt once more spurred his gelding to a gallop. Thankfully no other Sarkondish raiders materialized out of the rain, although Kayli could not resist the impulse to glance behind her every few moments.

It unnerved her to ride on and on by night, with not so much as moonlight to guide their way. How could Terralt possibly know where they were going in the darkness and the rain? Surely the night must be nearly over, but the darkness continued; only Kayli’s energy was fading. She was grateful for her Bregondish saddle; it had been made for just such long rides, even equipped with special straps to be buckled across the thighs so that the rider could sleep in the saddle if necessary. Now Kayli regretted that she had never developed such skill; a few moments of rest would have been a great blessing. As time passed, Kayli mustered every bit of her temple discipline to hold out just one moment longer, and then one more, and then one more...even her cold, wet skin and her helpless shaking were no longer enough to keep her alert. When she thought she could bear not a single moment more, Terralt pulled the horses to a halt under a cluster of trees. Kayli thought he had decided to camp after all, but they paused only long enough to let the horses regain their wind, then rode on. Kayli surreptitiously swallowed a stimulant potion from her pack, but the potion roused only a brief renewal of strength and warmth from a body already drained of its resources. She huddled in Terralt’s cloak, clung to the saddle, and endured.

At last a dim gray light appeared behind the heavy clouds, but neither the rain nor Terralt’s speed diminished. As the potion she’d drunk wore off, Kayli was forced to buckle the saddle straps across her thighs. After that there was nothing to do but hold the cloak closed, clutch the raised pommel of the saddle—and what, she wondered dully, had become of the lovely hawk Randon had given her?—as she drifted in and out of consciousness, dozing and then jerking upright again.

Maja halted so suddenly that Kayli was thrown forward and would have fallen were it not for the sturdy straps. Even so, she only half woke, blearily realizing that they were surrounded no longer by wetland countryside, but by stone walls, a courtyard of some sort, and that people flocked around them.

There was a confusing babble of voices, but Kayli was too weak to translate the rapid Agrondish and could only sit limply while hands fumbled to unbuckle the straps holding her in the saddle.

She drifted out of consciousness as she was lifted from the saddle but half woke again sometime later when she realized she had been lowered into a large hot bath. The warmth was so delicious that Kayli struggled to stay conscious, but in vain. She roused again only when someone held a cup to her lips; remembering only that she was fasting, she struggled weakly to push the cup away, spitting out the bitter liquid.

She recognized Terralt’s voice, and this time she could follow the Agrondish.

“She said she was on some kind of fast. She was drinking potions out of that bag.”

A strange voice. “She’s half-starved and chilled through. I’m afraid she’ll get the choking sickness if I can’t get something into her. Still, I don’t dare risk poisoning her by mixing potions. What
can
she have?”

“I don’t know.” Terralt’s voice was heavy with irritation. “I was escorting her, not feeding her. Broth. Tea. That’s all I saw her take.”

Some immeasurable time later another cup was put to her lips, and Kayli smelled rich broth. She drank gratefully; when the cup was empty, she was given more, and she drank that, too. Voices faded in and out, but she paid them no heed. She was safe; that was all she needed to know. She let herself slide back down into sleep, and this time she was in no hurry to wake.

Some indefinable time later Kayli awoke slowly, luxuriously, relishing the soft warmth of the bed in which she lay, the familiar crackling of a fire somewhere nearby. She sighed with pleasure and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Endra’s face, a deep cut down one cheek and a large purple bruise framing her left eye, but Endra nonetheless.

“Well, good morn to you, lady, or good afternoon, rather.” Endra chuckled. “You’ve had everyone dithering, most of them afraid the fragile lady would drop dead of a simple chill. I knew you were a tougher weed than that, eh, lady?”

“Most assuredly.” Her voice was rough and hoarse; Kayli cleared her throat, and Endra poured her a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. Kayli pushed the cup aside. “How long has it been since the attack?”

“Two days.” Endra pushed the cup back into Kayli’s hand and gazed at her sternly until Kayli, drank. “I lit out close on your trail—what I could see of it in such a storm—with three of the guards. Once they knew you were headed for Tarkesh, we did the same, but you still bested us by half a day.”

Kayli swallowed the last of the water and impatiently pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“What of the other maids?” she asked.

“The guards said three rode off toward Bregond,” Endra said. “When the last of the raiders fled, Anida and Devra and Brother Santee rode ahead with some of the guards. They’ve arrived. There’s no news of the three who rode west.”

“But the other?” Kayli pressed.

“The guards say Dena was taken by the raiders,” Endra said quietly. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

Kayli knew what that meant. By now Dena would have ended her own life, as would any Bregondish citizen captured by enemies, so she could not be made to betray her country’s secrets. In Dena’s case, however, a quick death would have spared her other torments.

“I will send word to my father,” Kayli said grimly. “Much Sarkondish blood will spill for this.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my lady,” Endra said gently. “There was nothing any of us could have done. Are you well enough to rise and dress? Lord Randon is eager to meet you.”

Kayli nodded, for once glad that there were Anida and Devra and Endra to help her dress and arrange her hair. When she looked in the mirror, she was dismayed at her appearance—there were huge dark circles under her eyes, her lips were dry, and her cheeks were hollow; beneath her golden-brown skin, she was pale and wan. In the Order she had never worn the powders, creams, and rouges some of her sisters used to enhance their beauty, but now she was glad Endra had brought them. As she was, Lord Randon would likely think her diseased and half-dead.

When Kayli was as presentable as Endra and the maids could make her, she opened the door. To her surprise, there were two guards outside her door—was she a prisoner? She was somewhat reassured when both guards bowed deeply to her, and one of them said (in slow, careful Agrondish, as if to a child), “Good afternoon, Lady Kayli. We have been assigned to guard and protect you. May we be of any service?”

Did Lord Randon fear assassins in his very castle?

“I thank you,” Kayli said in Agrondish, bowing in return. “I would be grateful if you would escort me to Lord Randon.”

“He will be greatly pleased by your recovery,” the first guard said, smiling. “Come, I’ll take you to him now.”

One of the guards remained outside the door to her room (so no assassin could enter? Kayli wondered), and the other led her through corridors and down a flight of stairs. He stopped at a set of large double doors and knocked, then opened the door.

“My lords, the lady Kayli of the High House of Bregond,” the guard said, standing aside for Kayli to enter. Kayli took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The room was a study perhaps, for books lined shelves on the walls, and the two men in the room were sitting at a long table strewn with books and scrolls. Terralt was pointing to a passage in one of the books; the tall, slender man beside him with the amazing red-brown hair must be Lord Randon, her betrothed.

Both men rose and came forward.

“Well, here she is, brother,” Terralt said, grinning. “Delivered safe and sound, just as I promised you.”

Lord Randon gave his half-brother a scowl before he turned to bow deeply to Kayli.

“I’m honored to meet you, lady,” he said in halting Bregondish. “I’m Randon.”

“Lord Randon,” Kayli murmured, flushing at the awkward situation. Terralt’s presence made it worse. Hesitantly she extended her hand; Lord Randon took it gingerly, as if he did not know what to do with it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pausing slightly before each word. “I’ve had little time to learn your customs or your language.”

“Then we will speak in your language instead,” Kayli said, hoping her Agrondish was less clumsy and accented than Randon’s Bregondish. “As I am to live in your land, it is fitting that I learn your language and your ways, and not you mine.”