VirtualWarrior (8 page)

“Black eye?”

She saw him shift in the saddle. He appeared most
uncomfortable, yet did not complain. She recalled the blows he had sustained on
her behalf. Why had she not allowed him to remain behind?

“Hello, Ardra? Black eye?” He did something with his fingers
and a sharp sound was produced.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

He looked down at his fingers and then up at her. “I just
snapped my fingers, nothing much.” He did it several times.

“Show me,” she said. “‘Tis marvelous.”

He demonstrated, and she tried repeatedly. Although she
succeeded in reproducing the sound, it did not match the sharpness of his.
Perhaps it was the stronger male hand that made the difference. Thoughts of his
hands and how they had held her hard against him as they hid in the tree roots
brought a sheen of sweat to her palms.

“Ardra, now that you’ve unlocked that little secret, what’s
the black eye?”

She snapped her fingers and laughed, then sobered. “Oh, the
Black Eye is a jewel. Unlike the amber and turquoise which are healing and
sacred, the Black Eye is considered cursed. Only the consort may wear it with
impunity. Only one such stone has ever been found in the many mines of the
chiefdoms.”

She noticed her men watching her and realized she had given
Lien far too much of her attention. “I must move forward.”

Lien nodded and muttered something under his breath when she
lifted her hand for more speed. She overtook the few men who separated her from
the forward guard.

“Push the men faster, Ollach,” she ordered. “I do not wish
to meet with another disaster. Those men who attacked us—do you think they were
outcasts?”

Ollach shrugged. “Most likely, mistress. If they had been
sent by the goddess, they would not have been so easily routed. We could have
used some archers.”

“Aye. ‘Tis a pity Samoht would not allow us any.”

“Forgive me, mistress, but is it wise to talk to the
pilgrim?” Ollach asked.

“You forget your place,” she said.

She wheeled her mount and moved back to a center position
next to the pilgrim to show Ollach he could not dictate her actions. “Lien, I
must thank you for saving my life again.”

“No problem.” His answer was curt.

“You are in pain?”

“I have pains on my pains. How much farther do you think we
need to go?”

“If Ollach is correct in his estimations, we will leave the
forest at the next sunrising.”

“And what time is it now?” He raised his gaze to the canopy
overhead. For a brief moment, in the dark shadows of the trees and torchlight,
he looked like one of the ancient ones carved in ice rock. A wave of dizziness
came over her.

“I do not know,” she managed. But she did know. The
sunrising would not be for a long time. The distance to the Selaw border was
long also. Tol might be dead ere they reached it. The wave of dizziness receded
as she pushed her horse to greater speed. Once Tol was gone, these warriors
would melt away from her as the ice did when brought to the fire, for they were
Tol’s men, Tolemac warriors, as Ralen was. They would feel no obligation to
serve her unless Samoht so ordered it.

She remembered well Samoht’s arrogant face as he had bade
her to his bed on his last visit to the fortress. Though she had never
mentioned the incident, Tol had known. He had sensed the truth and been angered
enough to draw his men about her whenever Samoht visited.

A shout jerked her attention to the lead warrior. A party
approached them. She felt suddenly cold. They were Tolemac warriors. Had they
news of Tol?

When the party drew near, she saw that unlike her own men,
these warriors were well prepared for the forest trek. There were archers with
bows ready, and the group was twice as large as hers. At the head of the
phalanx rode a man she would know anywhere, anytime.

‘Twas Ralen. Each time she saw him, she thought of how Tol
must have looked in his youth—tall, imposing, full of life and vigor. Ralen had
the same shade of hair as her son. It reminded her of honey streaked with
ribbons of gold. And like her son, Ralen had Tol’s eyes too. They were so pale
a blue, they looked almost silver, but Ralen’s were often narrowed with
displeasure. Ralen was not a joyful man.

Ollach helped her dismount, and she went down on one knee to
the warrior. “Ralen. I bid you peace.”

“Mistress Ardra. Might I be so bold as to ask why you are in
this bedeviled forest?”

“I was seeking you.”

Ralen dismounted and gestured for his men to circle their
party. “There has been an influx of rebels in these woods. It is not safe for a
woman—”

“The goddess would disagree with you.”

Ralen nodded. “Aye, but you are not she. Is my brother mad,
that he sends his mate to risk her life?”

“Nay; he is near death.”

Ralen looked down. He whispered something she assumed was a
prayer for his brother’s soul. When he looked up, his expression was grim. “So,
now we know ‘tis not the birth of his heir that brings Samoht to the border.”

“Aye. May I speak with you in private?”

Ralen nodded and took her arm. He moved with her to the edge
of the party, but not so far as to leave them unguarded. His grip was not
gentle. It was the hold of a man who wished to demonstrate that he was in
control and she but a nuisance.

“What is it you wish to—” He abruptly turned toward Lien.
“By the moons, who is that?”

“A pilgrim who saved my life.”

“He is not a pilgrim. Not garbed in such a manner. I have
never seen hair so dark.” Ralen strode past her as if she were invisible.

She wanted to scream in frustration. “Ralen. He can wait.”

Ralen paused. He turned back and sketched a quick bow. “Aye,
mistress, forgive me.”

“‘Tis said you seek the Goddess of Darkness.”

“I have just come from her domain. Samoht suspected her of a
serious theft.”

“Aye, the Vial of Seduction.”

“You are well informed.” Ralen shrugged his shoulders. “It
was a useless effort. If the woman has the vial, it is hidden so that mortal
man cannot find it.”

“You spoke to her?” Ardra watched him carefully. Had the
woman bewitched Ralen?

“Aye. The goddess is naught but another comely woman who
works her wiles on old men. Her consort must be Tol’s age.”

Two of Ralen’s warriors who stood nearby snickered.

Ralen shot them a hard look, and they moved away. “Forgive me.
I did not mean to imply—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Ardra cut him short.

“As I was saying, if the goddess wants the vial in order to
lure a younger man than her current consort, she has not used it yet.”

Ardra knotted her ringers together to conceal her agitation.
“And has she a daughter?”

“None that I saw. Perhaps that is the cause of the rumors.
The vial is missing, the goddess’s consort is old, and she has no daughter;
thus she must have stolen it to find a more potent man.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Ralen cleared his
throat. “Now, you had something of import to tell me?”

“Tol suffers much. The healer has tried everything, and Tol
hoped Nilrem might know of some potion she did not. ‘Tis how I come to be here.
It was the wiseman who thought we should find you, that you should be with Tol
now.

“I know Tol hopes you will stand in his place as a voice of
reason when,” she had to look up to stem the tears, “when he passes. If you do
not, I have no one. The Fortress of Ravens will be Samoht’s unless I fight, and
without a warrior of your stature, I have little hope of holding out against
him.”

“I cannot fight Samoht. I am his lieutenant, and Tol knows
that.” Ralen took a step toward her, but not near enough to show he held any
interest in her troubles. Pain burst within her. Her search had been for
naught.

“Tol understands that you cannot stand against the high
councilor, but someone must sit in Tol’s place at the council table and
represent his chiefdom, and mine.”

“I am not a councilor, nor do I wish to serve as such.”

He was as cold as ice. “Tol believed it was time you took
his seat.”

Ralen shrugged. “I could never be content in a councilor’s
chair. I much prefer the saddle. Tol presumes too much.”

She must beg. She drew in a deep breath and fisted her hands
so she would not weep and prove that women were weak and hapless beings. “I
humbly beseech you to reconsider. It is not necessary, according to Tol, that
you relinquish your warrior status to sit in his place while he yet lives. He
said if he is too ill to take his seat, you may do so at his bidding.”

“I will think about it.” With a sharp, dismissive gesture
Ralen walked away.

She would not humiliate herself by running after him. He
gave orders for his men to mount up and join her party. She heard him direct
his men to the Selaw border. So, she would have some time with him and might
convince him yet.

Then Ralen strode to where Lien was checking his horse’s
girth.

“Who are you?” Ralen asked without any of the customary
polite greetings one made to a stranger.

“Who are you?” Lien asked in turn.

Ardra shook her head slightly at his curt response and tried
to send him a silent message that Ralen was not to be trifled with.

Ralen ignored the question. “What are you doing with
Mistress Ardra?”

Lien gave her a barely perceptible nod, then spoke with more
civility. “Mistress Ardra and I met by accident while she was gathering wood.
Three outcasts attacked her, and I happened to be handy.” He mounted his horse,
and Ardra suspected he did so to set himself above Ralen, who stood a hand
taller than he.

“He saved my life, Ralen,” she said. “I am giving him safe
conduct.”

The look Ralen shot her spoke his distrust of her and Lien.
“You have never gathered wood in your life.”

She clenched her jaw. “I have learned much at Tol’s knee,
the least of which is that one must sometimes take care of oneself.”

“So—” Ralen looked up at Lien, who in turn merely arched a
dark brow. “You saved Ardra’s life? You expect my brother will reward you?”

Before Lien could reply, she jumped in. “Nay. He asks
nothing. You do not understand. Lien saved my life, and in doing so, lost all
he had to my attackers. I have furnished him with clothing and a horse. It is
the least I can do. I am also granting him safe conduct. You would do at least
as much for one who saved your life.”

Ralen placed a hand on Lien’s bridle. “Hear this, pilgrim.
Whatever debt Ardra owed you, it is now paid. Do you understand? When we reach
the border, I want you gone.”

Ardra gasped. “Ralen. I will decide when my debts are paid.”

Lien jerked his horse away from Ralen’s grip and moved into
the line of men heading off through the forest.

“If I stand in Tol’s place, I will decide.” Ralen took his
reins from one of his men. “Now mount up and let us make all speed to the
border. I have a report for Samoht that cannot wait.” He led his horse away.

She silently cursed his broad back.

When they’d gone a few leagues, and Ralen was well occupied
at the head of the party, she drew her horse next to Lien’s.

“I hope you will accept my word that I do not consider my
debt to you discharged. Food and clothing are not an equal measure for a life,”
she said.

He smiled. It was a lopsided smile as his cheek had puffed
up in a most alarming way.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t rescue you for a reward. I
take it that’s Ralen.”

“Aye. He is Tol’s brother. Does your face hurt a great deal?
I have never seen such injuries. It is as if an invisible brush has touched you
with color.”

He touched his cheek. “Yeah. It’s just a bruise. It’ll go away
without any help.”

“We are not so afflicted when injured.” She wanted to skim
her finger over the mark but dared not be so familiar. Still, the urge was
there and it made her uncomfortable. She cleared her throat.

“So why is Ralen so hostile? I thought you were going to
hook up with him and stand against this Samoht.”

“It seems Tol is wrong about Ralen. He did think Ralen would
welcome this chance to take a council seat.”

“It goes to his brother if Tol—”

“Dies. Nay. Council seats are chosen. But if Tol recommended
Ralen, a man of such high birth and respect would almost surely be granted the
honor. There is no one who might vie for the position against him and win.”

“No ambitious person waiting in the wings?”

“In the wings? You have such odd turns of phrase. But I
think I take your meaning. Nay. There is no one save Samoht who covets Tol’s
chiefdom, and, thank the gods, Samoht may not represent more than one chiefdom
at the council table. He is the high councilor and rules Tolemac itself.”

“I see. So, there are a bunch of chiefdoms ruled by
councilors and they all get together and sit around and decide what’s best for
the people in general?”

“Aye.” He was so easy to talk to. There had been one other
like him…but nay, she would not think of the past and what could not be undone.
“As Selaw folk, we have no seat on the council. We are not worthy.”

“Are you saying that when this council meets, the Selaw
aren’t represented?”

“Nay. We are outside the eight chiefdoms. We have, through
all the ages of the ice, stood alone.”

“Then what do you need Ralen for?”

“In an effort to avert war, I was given to Tol. As my mate,
he controls all that is mine—the fortress is key to the power of the Selaw.
Through Tol, we Selaw had a voice on the council. He spoke for us and kept the
other councilors in check.”

Lien scratched his chin. She noticed that, although Ollach
and Ralen, who had not shaved in many days, had but a soft glimmer of golden
hair upon their cheeks, Lien’s beard was dark, clearly defining the shape of
his jaw.