The Elder's Path (13 page)

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Outside the town limits, Lyn was standing perfectly still. Marcho was close enough now that she could feel his hot breath on her neck. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and was staring at her intently. Lyn had dealt with predators before; she knew if she turned to run it would only cause him to give chase. She had to admit, she was surprised at his sudden shift. There hadn’t seemed to have been any provocation, except that he mentioned someone she knew had something to do with the demon he sought.

“Your fear is well founded, World-Walker, but I am not what should be causing it. For the first time in centuries I have caught the scent of my enemy; I cannot allow it to escape in to the w
orld again.” He began to circle her very slowly.

“Marcho,” Lyn said quietly, trying to force her voice to steadiness. “Tell me what I can do to help you, I bear you no ill will.” A rumble came from behind her and she snapped her mouth shut.

The black wolf moved back in to her line of sight, keeping his eyes on her. “I must see what you have seen. Watch my eyes, do not look away.”

Lyn obeyed, though she wasn’t convinced that she could have done anything different. Suddenly she felt a presence force itself
in to her mind. It felt similar to what she experienced with Alir, but more violent and unwelcome. She felt the presence digging through her memories, watched them flash before her as they were brought forth and discarded. She no longer even saw Marcho in front of her, or heard Alir as he called out in anger. She was reliving her memories at high speed, watching them zip past. As the memories were being tossed about, she found herself recalling the sensation of the moments; her emotions shifted as quickly as the scene of the memory did, and she found herself caught in between laughter, tears, anger, loneliness, doubt, joy, and a myriad of nuanced feelings. Then suddenly the scenes stopped, frozen in one moment in front of her like a painting. And in that frozen moment she saw the man they called Skyehart.

“Yes...”
the presence whispered in her mind, and with just the one word she could feel the intent behind it; murder, hatred, fear. That was the last she remembered before she collapsed.

Lyn awoke to darkn
ess and stayed still for a moment thinking she was in her bed at the inn. But a pounding headache broke her reverie and she winced. Sitting up, she saw that she was laid out on her cloak under a large tree. Alir sat on a branch very near her, and seeing her move, called out to her. She took a moment to get her bearings, not recalling how she had come to be on the ground.

“I’ve got to stop drinking if it’s going to keep getting me laid out like this,” Lyn said to Alir jokingly, rubbing her head. Without sou
nd, Marcho strode out from behind a large tree trunk and sat a few feet away. Lyn froze at seeing him, but said nothing.

“I thought it would be best for you to have a moment before seeing me,” he said matter of factly. If Lyn didn’t know any better, she’d
have thought he was apologizing. He paused for a moment before continuing, “I had forgotten that your kind are no longer acclimated to such magic. I did not stop to consider the effect it would have on you.”

For a short time there was tense silence. Lyn
realized she wouldn’t be winning any willpower contests with the immortal demon, but she had to consider whether or not she actually forgave him and was able to trust his words. Finally she decided that his actions were driven upon self-preservation and necessity and forgave him. This time. She didn’t feel the need to
tell
him he was forgiven, but she picked herself up, dusted off, and looked around.

“Well, since night has fallen regardless, we should probably find a place to make shelter. I did learn how
to make a pretty mean lean-to. Want to see?”

Chapter 9

19
th
day, 11
th
lunar cycle, 700
th
age of Arc

“I can’t believe that life in Brightpeak tamed me so quickly; I had forgotten Thom’s warning about the storms and now it looks like we’re about to be caught in a large one. The strangely warm and calm weather when I left didn’t even register as out of place to me until it was too late. As soon as the wind picked up, I told Marcho that we needed shelter immediately. Luckily he found a small cave for us. It is cramped, but it is shelter from the storm at least. I don’t even have the space to build a fire, but I did stretch the furs over the opening to help block out the wind. I can only hope the storm will subside soon so that we can move forward. Were we not already a day out, I would have just swallowed my pride and gone back to Brightpeak, but it’s too late for that now. I can only hope that Satora and his men somehow got word of the storm and didn’t leave after I did...”

Furs
stretched across the cave entrance did little for containing any heat, but they helped mitigate the rushing chill of the wind. It also prevented snow from blowing in to their shelter, which in turn kept everybody more comfortable. In this case, everybody being Alir and Lyn; Lyn was still not sure Marcho even registered outside phenomenon, because he certainly didn’t acknowledge it. Night was awkward, but safe at least. The next morning found a momentary lull in the wind but Lyn could see the storm billowing in the sky.

“Tonight is goin
g to be much worse,” she said to no one in particular.

Marcho put his nose to the air and took a great breath. “He approaches.”

Lyn looked at him sidelong, concern etched in her face. “Who? Umbra?” The great wolf shook his shaggy head slowly. Lyn put her hand on her head to shield her eyes, trying to look out into the distance, but she saw no one.

Marcho looked to her with this three glowing orbs and said almost pityingly
, “How your people have functioned without the enhancements of magic I will never know. Your senses are dulled to the world around you. He comes, but his scent is hidden by horseflesh.”

Lyn’s lips tightened and she leered at Marcho as he turned back to watch the horizon, but she was admittedly jealous of how in tune he was with his surro
undings. After all, if not for him they would not have made it this far. Still, she didn’t think that gave him the right to brag about it and throw it in her face; she couldn’t help what she was, could she?

“Look,” the demon spoke in a low voice, and Lyn
turned to the direction he was facing. A large black shape made its way towards them over a hill, coming quickly closer.

“What should we...” Lyn turned to Marcho, but did not finish; the black wolf had vanished. Lyn sucked in through her teeth and swore u
nder her breath. It was evident at this point that whoever was approaching had already seen her, so she had little to do but wait. Still unsure if it were friend or foe, she pulled her bow and, checking the string, nocked an arrow. It had been some time since she had used it, but she was confident it would be a deterrent enough without her having to let fly.

As the figure came closer, she could see it was a large figure indeed. Not strange for these northmen to be large, but what was strange was the horse
he was riding; it was huge, heavily muscled, and with mane and coat the color of pitch. Despite the size of it, and its rider, it was moving very quickly indeed. Unfortunately that speed was catching it up to Lyn too fast for her to really do anything with her bow, so all she could do was hope that she wouldn’t need it regardless.

The horse and rider came within twenty paces and abruptly stopped. The figure astride the beast was clad in a dark cloak which hid his features completely. Slowly he raised his h
ands in the universal sign of peace, and Lyn lowered her bow. The young druid bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something to say. She would have loved to have something tough on hand like “who goes there” or “stand firm, ruffian!” But alas, she never did quite have a knack for situational witticism, so she stood instead in silence.

After a moment of the awkward silence, the rider seemed comfortable with the idea that Lyn was not going to shoot him. Lyn herself wasn’t quite so sure yet, but th
e stranger was confident enough to slowly pull the hood back from his face. Long blond hair spilled out over the dark cloak, and Lyn instantly recognized the face of the man called Skyehart. She stiffened slightly at his unexpected presence. Skyehart, misreading her sudden tensing, stopped mid-motion as one would with a wild animal who was spooked. Seeing that she was not turning to flee or fire, he slowly dismounted and walked in front of his horse, patting it idly on the side of the neck as he passed. He stopped a reasonable distance away, clearly not wishing to appear aggressive. His steely gaze never left Lyn’s, and his hands remained up.

“What do you want?” Lyn choked out, immediately berating herself for not having something better to say.

“Only to help,” the man said, his voice sounding surprisingly young. With a stature such as his, she had expected him to have a deeper, raspier voice. Not that his voice was unbefitting, it was simply more pleasant than she had anticipated. “There is a very large storm coming. My estate is not far away, I promised your friend I would find you on my way home and take you to safety.”

Lyn raised an eyebrow and her nerves calmed themselves as confusion took their place. “My...friend?”

“Yes, the masked man. He said you would have come this way and that you did not know about the approaching storm.”

Lyn absorbed this for a moment, though she did not doubt the truth of his statement. Suddenly she was mad. “I see. So he sent help after the helpless girl, is that it? I made
it up this mountain all by myself...mostly. Who says I couldn’t handle the rest?”

Skyehart flushed, fumbling for words. He clearly did not have the gift of tongue that Satora did, but Lyn found that to be a somewhat endearing quality. “I...I truly do not
think that was the intent behind his request, my lady...”

“Lyn,” s
he interrupted suddenly.

The blonde man stopped mid-sentence and looked at her, eyes wide. “Lyn,” he said slowly after a moment. Composing himself, he stood up straight and looked her squ
are in the eye once more. “Lyn. I do not think he intended offense. Nor do I. I am, however, better versed in these mountains, and I offer a suggestion as a fellow traveler that this storm is best ridden out in shelter. I humbly offer my own for your use.”

Lyn looked him up and down, but his eyes bespoke nothing but sincerity. With a sigh, she admitted, “Well despite all that, we really could use some shelter.”

Puzzled, the man repeated, “We?”

Lyn stammered for a moment, remembering now that Marcho had d
isappeared to Gods knew where. “We. Yes. We, as in my companion Alir and myself.” She motioned to Alir, who ruffled his feathers at the sudden attention.

Understanding dawned in the blonde warrior's eyes, “Of course. I would be glad to receive you both.”

Skyehart lifted Lyn on to the back of his huge horse, mounted himself, and took off. The wind began to pick up once more, blowing the flakes of snow into a dancing torrent. Lyn’s breaths came out in icy bursts as they ran along. Looking up, she saw they were approaching a high hill, upon which stood a massive keep. Amidst the swirling snow wind it stood like sharp black glass. Lyn saw that the outside was covered in icicles and piles of snow leaned against the stone edifice. The wind howled around the stone spires, which were topped with spikes longer than Lyn was tall. She was in awe of the place; she had never seen such a structure, and even the stone buildings and walls of the first city she had come to in the Eastern Province seemed ill-designed and thrown together compared to this fortress.

“This is your estate?” Lyn called to Skyehart over the wind. He said nothing, simply nodded and directed the steed up the slope towards the imposing manor. As they passed through the outer gate, Lyn felt suddenly ner
vous. She did not know this man, they were in the middle of nowhere with an incoming storm, and if this ‘estate’ was telling at all of the family mentality, she might be in more danger within than without. A logical part of herself told her that her true fear was being cooped up inside this great cage of stone and ice, and she had to agree. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. 

They reined the horse in and Lyn dismounted. Skyehart walked the steed over to a stable which was well built against the weath
er, and began to unsaddle and brush down the horse.  The building was surprisingly well insulated; as Lyn walked inside it the wind was cut out completely, and the straw in the stalls helped against the cool stone. However, all the other stalls were empty.

“For such a large stable, I would have expected there to be more horses,” Lyn ventured conversationally.

Her blonde comrade was quiet a moment as he gently brushed the pitch mane of his mount, then he said slowly, “There used to be more.” He offered no further statement, but Lyn felt there was a well of emotion behind those few words.

She decided to let it rest, and focus instead on something more positive. “Your horse is beautiful...what is his name?”

“Stygian,” the man responded, and Lyn saw a small smile appear on his face.

“You’ve had him for some time, have you?”