Rand adopted the defensive stance he usually had to call upon in Draeg’s presence. “What do you want?”
“Such a greeting you reserve for me, Misbegotten.” Draeg fixed his wolf-like stare on Rand. “I’ve a mind to instruct you in manners.”
“You’ll have to learn them first.” Rand snapped, past caution.
Draeg’s eyes widened, and he barked with laughter. “Your temper has improved little since the last time we met. Never mind. I’ll teach you to fear me, yet.”
“You’re the better fighter. We both know that. Must you prove it again?”
The wolf eyes narrowed. “You need a reminder.”
“I assure you, I do not. I well remember the last one.”
Draeg laughed. “I can well imagine you do. But I’ve a mind to finish the lesson. You’re as good as dead, anyway, or so Mother tells me.”
“Then perhaps you should fear me.”
Draeg raised a brow. “Oh?”
“What does one already dead have to lose?”
“I’ll teach you the answer to that!” Draeg unsheathed his dagger.
“What’s this?” Rand’s half-brother had never pulled a knife before but had always punished with his fists.
A smile spread across Draeg’s handsome face. “Mother will have her way.”
Rand hissed in a breath. Of course. Amora preferred him to fail in his mission so his mother’s life would be forfeited. She must have sent Draeg to kill him. Did his father know of this? He couldn’t bring himself to ask. “We’re unequally matched. The guards took my dagger.” He’d have been unwilling to use it against his half-brother, in any event, except to ward him off.
Draeg shifted, readying to spring, and the dagger in his hand glinted. He feinted left but spun right. Deceived by the move, Rand winced as the blade sliced his sleeve. Warmth ran down his arm. Before he could recover, the blade slashed again. He thrust himself backward out of range and slammed against the wall.
Draeg launched at him like a coiled spring.
He flung himself to the floor and rolled into his half-brother’s legs.
The dagger clattered out of reach as Draeg went down. They both struggled to stand. Draeg recovered first. With a roar, he went for the throat, his hands cutting off Rand’s air.
Rand broke Draeg’s hold and twisted free, ignoring the pain that shot through his wounded arm. He lurched to his feet, panting.
“I always win. This time will be no different.” Draeg’s gaze flicked about as he spoke.
Rand also searched for the dagger, but it had slid out of sight. Draeg did not know that to spare his mother any backlash, Rand had sometimes let him win. He could not match his half-brother’s strength but had the advantages of agility and quick thinking.
A glint beneath a side table gave away the dagger’s location. He felt Draeg tense, and they dove for the weapon together. A chair in the way crashed on its side, ramming the side table and rocking the ironstone vase on its top. Draeg shoved Rand away, and he slammed into the wall. With the breath knocked out of him, Rand watched with horror as the table teetered above his half-brother. He rasped in a breath. “Watch out!”
Draeg thrust his arm beneath the table just as the ironstone vase walked off the edge. It thunked against Draeg’s head, and he went limp.
Rand bent over his half-brother, motionless in the wreckage. Only a little blood trickled from the lump on his head, and his heart still beat. He would live. Rand snatched up the dagger but had to wait for the room to right itself before he could bind Draeg’s hands and feet with the cords tying back the window hangings. He cut strips from the hangings to bandage his wounded arm.
Draeg stirred and moaned, so Rand gagged his mouth. He wouldn’t do worse than that when all he needed was a little time to escape.
Mara gripped Lilthe’s saddle. “Where are you going?”
Emmerich reined in his horse and looked at Mara from the narrow track leading to the passes. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I have no wish to return to the snow.” Skittish, Lilthe seemed to share her sentiment. She patted the mare’s neck to comfort her.
His dark eyes warmed. “Trust me.”
She could barely frame an answer. “You ask too much.” Trust him? She knew almost nothing about him. Well, only that he had saved her life, rescued her horse, and treated her with kindness. She’d given herself into Rand’s keeping for less. Emmerich’s gaze rested on her while she fought an inner battle and, defeated, gave a quick nod.
Winter had eased its grip on the passes. She saw it in the first earlyflowers pushing up through the snow and in patches where blades of pale grass glistened in the sun. Before they reached the ascent to the passes, Emmerich cut westward, leaving the path behind.
He led them into a hollow where stood two ice sculptures shaped like a Kindren and wingabeast. Uneasiness stirred within Mara. What business could he have in such a forsaken place? The air felt flat and dead. Fear lodged in her spine. “Something is wrong here. I feel it.” Her voice echoed strangely.
Emmerich dismounted in front of the Kindren statue. Did tears shine upon his face? “Kai!” He strode to the wingabeast statue. “Flecht!”
Had he lost his mind? Or was she losing hers? He spoke to the ice carvings as if they could hear.
The Kindren statue trembled, the movement increasing in intensity until a crack ran through one of its arms. All at once the statue shattered, raining sparkling shards of ice in rainbow colors.
How could this be? Mara blinked, but a living and breathing Kindren had replaced the statue. Clad in warrior’s garb, he peered at Emmerich with long eyes more silver than gray. More ice flew, and then a winged horse tossed its mane beside him.
The Kindren knelt in the snow before Emmerich with tears sliding down his cheeks. “Thank you for freeing me.”
“Kai.” Emmerich’s voice broke. “I longed to do so but had to wait for the right time. Will you help me free another?”
The Kindren sprang to his feet as if he had never stood frozen. “Gladly. Who would you have me serve?”
Emmerich glanced toward Mara.
Kai turned his head and started. “Aewen?”
“She looks like her mother.”
“Is this the snow maiden? So much time has passed…” Kai seemed lost in thought.
“You knew my mother?” Lilthe gave a delicate snort, and Mara loosened the reins she’d gripped too tightly. “Tell me about her, if you will. I know very little.” She addressed them both.
Kai’s brows drew together. “Why does Syl Marinda need to ask about her mother?”
Mara frowned. “What name did you call me?”
“She grew up an innkeeper’s daughter and was kept hidden from her father,” Emmerich answered.
Kai scowled. “Kept from Elcon? How could such a thing come about? I left the babe in her nurse’s arms with her promise of protection.”
“After you went away, Syl Marinda’s nurse gave her into Heddwyn’s care and traveled to her sister in the north to beg shelter for herself and the babe. During the journey she lost her way in the bog lands and drowned. When guardians came searching for the child, Quinn and Heddwyn hid her. When Elcon came himself, they informed him she had died with her nurse.”
Sorrow spasmed across Kai’s face. “How Elcon must have suffered.”
Pain twisted through Mara. “Why would Mam and Da do such a thing?”
Emmerich shook his head. “The natural mind often clothes acts of selfishness in garments of love.”
“I must return to Elcon at Torindan…” Kai angled a glance at Emmerich. “If it still stands.”
Emmerich smiled. “Both Torindan and Elcon remain.”
Kai drew a deep breath and released it. “That is well, then. And what of Freaer?”
Emmerich’s face saddened. “He rebuilds Pilaer…and seeks to take Syl Marinda’s life.”
“Then I will protect her with my own.”
“I don’t unders
tand.” Mara broke in. “Who is Syl Marinda?”
Two pairs of eyes, one pale and one dark, turned toward her. Kai gave a tender smile. “At your birth, your mother named you Syl Marinda, which means ‘snow maiden’ in the Kindren tongue. Do you not know that you are Elcon’s daughter? Once told that you live, he will want you to stay with him in Torindan.”
“But, I have never so much as met my father, and I know little about Torindan.”
“I would find it an honor to remedy both omissions. We should start for Torindan at once.” Kai whistled, and the silver wingabeast came to him. He caught its bridle and patted the arching neck. “Flecht, I’ve missed you.”
“Mara must first return to the inn at the White Feather,” Emmerich said.
Emmerich saw far too much and understood her too well for comfort. Emotions warred within Mara, too many to name. She felt joy but also dread, reluctance because of the way she’d left, but also anger over her reason for leaving. If she asked why Emmerich wanted her to return to the inn, his answer might be too hard to bear.
“That may put Syl Marinda in danger.”
At Kai’s sharp tone, Lilthe flinched.
Mara restored her sense of sanity by stroking her mare’s neck to quiet her. “Why?” she asked the question that throbbed within her in a quiet voice.
“Freaer has long coveted the high throne of Faeraven.” Emmerich took up his horse’s reins but paused with his hands on the saddle. “He will stop at nothing to win it for himself. You could stand in his way.”
“Who is this Freaer?” Mara didn’t like anything she’d heard about him.
“Your father’s sworn enemy, and your own.”
“Mine?” Memories of the nightmares she had suffered and the evil she’d sensed searching for her returned, and Mara shivered.
“You are Elcon’s only child.”
Mara frowned. “I don’t understand…”
Emmerich levered himself into the saddle. “He will name you heir of Faeraven.”
8
RELUCTANT JOURNEY
Mara sat on a boulder jutting into a stream that flowed into forest shadow. Daylight lingered in the mists hovering above the water. After the journey from the passes, exhaustion dragged at her, but with so much to think about, her mind did not welcome sleep. “Why do you want me to return to the inn?” she asked.
Emmerich looked up from bandaging her feet. “You forgot to say goodbye.”
How did he know so much about her? A greater question was how he had rescued Kai, but she didn’t want to ask. When it came to Emmerich, she could only manage one disturbing question at a time. She shook her head. “They wanted me gone.”
Emmerich tied off her bandage and sat back on his heels. “Do you really believe that?”
“Why must you answer with a question?”
“Let me put it plainly then. I thought you wouldn’t want to leave those who love you wondering whether you live or not.”
She clasped her arms about herself. “They don’t care about me.”
He leveled a gaze on her that she couldn’t quite meet. “Come, now. You don’t believe that.”
“They lied to me.”
“You speak with bitterness but also truth. Tell me, have you ever lied to someone who trusted you?”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but remembering her last conversation with Hael, closed it again.
He stood to his feet and looked out over the water. “Wronging those who wrong you will not bring peace.”
She sighed, having noticed that very thing. “You are right about that.”
“I think you will find your parents ready to forgive.” He turned to face her. “Can you say the same?”
Flecht dipped his head to drink from the stream near camp while Kai stood on the bank drinking in air scented by the kaba trees that towered overhead. He threw a rock into the water and watched its shadow pass below. What joy to move again, to truly live —sweet and yet bittersweet without Shae.
Daring to ponder his reflection in one of the pools, he discovered he had not aged. And yet, those he loved must have. His life resembled the rock he’d flung, sinking as the stream flowed on. Life had gone on without him. The infant he’d left at the inn had formed into the likeness of her mother. Emmerich, then but a youth, had become a man. Elcon would have reached his prime by now.
The trees soughed in a rush of wind that tasted of rain. Nature itself seemed ready to weep. The new leaves of a white whispan tree bent over the water whispering secrets. The stream hurried on.
“You are lost in thought.” Emmerich stood nearby holding a loaf of bread. Kai had not heard his approach.
He sighed. “I wonder what I will find when next I return to my homeland.”
“Don’t concern yourself about your mother and father. They are well, although grieved over your loss and that of Shae.”
Kai drew breath. “So you have visited Whellein? And what of my brother, Daeven?”
“He never returned from the sea.”
Kai closed his eyes as he absorbed this news. Pressing duties at Torindan had always prevented him from searching for his missing brother, and now so much time had gone by that any trail Daeven had left would have vanished. “Did my parents speak of my other siblings?”
“They mentioned nothing amiss.”
“Tell me of Elcon.”
Emmerich broke the bread and offered him a portion. “He held Torindan against Freaer’s siege and afterwards mourned Aewen and his lost child. Eventually he took Arillia to wife, but they have borne no children.”
“And what of Freaer?”
“He retreated to Pilaer, where he has readied for a renewed attack on Torindan.”
“Has Elcon strengthened its defenses?” Kai took a bite of bread and found it sweet.
“Elcon has grown too comfortable. You must warn him that war is at his door.”
“I’m loath to carry ill tidings, but I will tell him.”
“There is one name you do not speak.”
He looked past Emmerich into the flowing water. Here and there the stream swelled around rocks before smoothing again. “Fear prevents me.”
“Shae is well.”
The tension went from Kai. “I’m thankful. She came to me even after Erdrich Ceid cast her spell on me, or so I imagined.”
“She comforted you, and in so doing took her own comfort.”
“How long must I wait for her?” The cry came from deep within his soul.
“Time will give the answer. Meanwhile, eat and drink. You must recover your strength for what lies ahead.”
All Kai wanted was Shae in his arms, but he bit into the bread. “Tell me the fate of Erdrich Ceid.”
“What if I told you there is no Ice Witch?”
Kai blinked. “Then who held me bound all this time?”
“No one.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That is true, nor should you seek the hidden knowledge, but I will tell you there are places where time stops.”
“How can that be?”
“All worlds were built as pathways to Lof Yuel, but the weight of evil now tilts them out of balance. They rub against one another, trapping time between them.”
“I stumbled into a time trap?” That would explain why he hadn’t aged. The idea of an Ice Witch bent on trapping unwary travelers seemed less frightening, somehow. “Can the worlds be brought back into balance?” Surely Emmerich, who had delivered him from such a place, would say they could.
Emmerich set a leaf upon the water and straightened as the current spun it. “Such a thing comes at a great price.”
Rand bent over Taelant’s back as his horse’s hooves pounded in a numbing rhythm. Mara would have returned to the inn at the White Feather by now. He turned his predicament over in his mind, as he had countless times already, searching for a way out. The thought of harming her made him sick to the stomach. If he spared Mara’s life, his father would
send someone less merciful to take it, and his mother would still die. The only course left to him was to save his mother’s life. He’d not see her sacrificed for a life already forfeited. His feelings for Mara didn’t matter. As Draeg had said, he was already dead.
This time he must not fail.
The road followed the banks of Weild Whistan, the waterway that became the White Feather River in Elder lands. At the cove where a road split off toward the inn, he hesitated. Mara might tell her parents of his part in her disappearance, but to save her reputation, he thought she would not. It would be safer to hide and wait for her to go about her chores outside the inn, but he needed to know whether she’d returned to the inn. With Amora plotting to end his mother’s life, he’d have to risk approaching the inn to find out without delay.
Taelant huffed, his sides heaving, and Rand’s conscience smote him a heavy blow. He’d driven his horse beyond endurance. He turned aside and led Taelant to the pools trapped by large rocks at the water’s edge. While Taelant lipped the surface of one pool, Rand cupped his hands and brought cool water to his own mouth from another.
A flash of color caught his eye. Could it be?
A grillon, its sides puffing, watched him from a flat rock at the pool’s edge. He crept backwards to where Taelant stood and pulled a hand net from his saddle bag. The tiny creature tried to hop away, but he captured it with skill from his early days in Weithein Faen. With a flick of his knife, he ended the tiny creature’s struggles. Stripping the frog of its poison sacks, he bathed the tip of his knife in the liquid within, careful not to let it touch his skin.
At the inn he tossed his reins to the stable man and, taking the porch steps, flung open the door. He stomped into the entry. “Have you lodging?”
The innkeeper turned to him with a look of surprise but then schooled his expression to politeness. “Aye, but ‘t’will be the attic.”
“That will do.” Rand climbed the stairs and at the end of the upper corridor gripped the rough ladder that took him into the attic loft, favoring his bandaged arm as he climbed. The room’s small window overlooked the inn yard and gave a view beyond the stable and pasture, all the way past the kaba trees to the river.
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