Avari roused herself, shaking her head then peeling the damp hair from her face. The tribesman looked away and fiddled with his weapons. Avari's glance fell on the barn door and a smile played over her lips. Scampering over, she cracked the door open, reached out and grabbed a huge double handful of snow. A gust of wind blew in more snow, sending flakes into her hair and face. She braced herself to push the door shut, then came back to where Jundag sat, proffering half of the snow as an icy gift. The cold lump melted in his hands as he watched her pop some in her mouth as cold refreshment.
Avari walked over to where her chainmail hung and rubbed the salty sweat off with snow. As Jundag bent his head to taste his snow, he felt icy water drip down his back. Without thinking, he reached back, grabbed his tormentor and pulled her over his shoulder into his lap. Avari lay there for a moment, laughing then looked up into the tribesman's eyes. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her and she tried to pull free, but his embrace was unrelenting.
"Well, I do believe it is time for a good... night's... rest." Shay had come striding from the back of the barn, his meditations concluded. The sight of Avari in Jundag's arms stopped him in his tracks.
"Well, I... uh..." For once, the half-elf's glib tongue failed him. "Good night," he stammered as he turned on his heel, grabbed his blanket and headed to the back of the barn.
"What is wrong with me?" Shay mumbled to himself as he tried to find a clean patch of hay. "It's not as if Avari owes me anything. Besides, I don't even think of her that way! Oh, bother!"
Shay flung himself down into his makeshift bed and tried to sleep, while a knot of worry churned within him, mocking him with the notion that he was losing the first and best friend he had had in a very long time.
Jundag curled miserably beside the haystack, his face hot with the flush of embarrassment instead of passion. At Shay's interruption, Avari had rolled out of his grasp and backed away from him so fast he had had no time to explain. Confusion and fear had marred her formerly playful and, he had thought, amorous features. A muttered apology was her only explanation before she fled to the other end of the barn.
This, he thought, is going to be a long trip.
Avari lay wrapped in her blanket in one of the empty stalls, wondering what had provoked Jundag into such an unexpected display of attraction to her. The depth of feeling in his eyes had frightened her, but had also drawn a warm sensation up from somewhere deep inside. In the brief moment that she lay in his lap, a hundred alternatives for action had raced through her mind. His hold was not so strong that she could not break free if she wanted to, but, for some reason, she had resisted such a reaction. Then Shay's interruption made the decision for her, and she beat a hasty retreat.
I wonder, she mused, what would have happened if Shay hadn't come by? A smile graced her lips as she stretched out and drifted into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Avari stirred in her cocoon of warm wool. She yawned and stretched, working her way free of the blankets then grinned as she cocked her head, listening. Quiet; the storm was over. A thrill of anticipation pulled at her stomach as she pulled her boots on and strode out into the main barn, eager to resume their journey. The accumulated heat of mules, cows and people made the barn quite comfortable even in the midst of a blizzard, but the chill that assaulted her as she exited her comfortable corner was more penetrating than the snow piled outside the door.
"Good morning!"
Avari's hail was met with sullen silence. She stopped short at the sight of Shay and Jundag punching blankets and clothes into their packs like they were meting out punishment. Their stiff backs were turned to one another, and their faces were frozen into furrowed brows and frowns. She stood for a moment, her mind racing in circles. What was wrong? Were these the same two men she had spent such a pleasant day with yesterday? Jundag had already pulled the silent act once, so Avari thought that perhaps he was just moody. But Shay? What manner of nightmare had left him so sulky?
Surely this is nothing serious, Avari thought, setting out to break the tension, but her well-meaning quips were rebuffed by the two morose men. No fashion of joke or jest could throw off the gloom that enshrouded the barn. She could not fathom what was wrong, what hurtful words had passed between them before she had awoken. Avari finally fell silent, hurt and confused by their brusque manners.
Outside was just as cold and quiet, but much more serene. The storm had left a four-foot blanket of white covering the ground. Clouds obscured most of the sky, but these were nothing like those of the previous days. Jundag passed the kindly farmer a few coins, and the three companions smiled and waved goodbye. The faces they turned toward one another, however, were as blank as the untrodden snow.
Travel was somber. Avari's thoughts tumbled over one another in turmoil. Occasionally she would glance at Shay or Jundag, but they kept their eyes averted. Each rebuff sank her heart deeper into the pit of her stomach. Avari, accustomed to her comfortable life of isolation, had never experienced this type of rejection before, and had no idea how to deal with it.
Blast it, anyway, Avari cursed as she bent to tighten a snowshoe thong that had worked itself loose. You taught me swordplay to keep me from being hurt, father, but not all wounds are dealt by a blade. I'd rather take a sword stroke than hurt like this. She cinched the leather tight and wiped the moisture from her cheek before continuing to plod her clumsy way through the snow.
Shay trudged along, fighting an uphill battle with both the deep drifts and his own emotions. No matter how hard he tried to banish it from his mind, the image of Avari in Jundag's arms kept returning. A pang of desperation pulled at his heart as he tried to unravel his feelings. He was not jealous; Avari was far too physically overpowering for his tastes. The feeling was more akin to watching a wild animal being tamed. He was afraid Avari would lose that innocent intensity that had originally drawn him to help her on the ship. But that did not explain the sense of bereavement that he felt. This was more than simply mourning for her loss; the loss he feared was his own.
Shay prided himself on his independence. Being turned away from temple after temple had not diminished his determination to find a place he could practice both his faith and his magic. He was accustomed to traveling solo and enjoying himself as he pleased, bound to no master except his own faith.
Now, however, he admitted to himself just how fond he had grown of the tall, determined woman who strode ahead of him. Despite her skills, her innocence appealed to his sympathetic nature. She amused him with her attitude, and was a delightful dining and traveling companion. But her ardent defense of him in the face of Jundag's doubts was what had really touched his heart. She had embraced him as a friend, someone she would look out for, as he had done for her.
Until now, he thought.
He had presumed Avari to be inexperienced in the ways of love, but the look he had seen in her eyes when she lay in Jundag's arms had shaken that assumption. Would she want him along now that she had a more amiable companion? Shay had interpreted Jundag's early morning silence as an angry shun for interrupting them. Assuming Avari would feel the same, the priest had worked himself into an embarrassed depression. When Avari finally awoke, he avoided her gaze to escape the derision he thought would be there. Her jovial comments seemed only for Jundag. Now he felt like a spare wheel on a two-wheel cart, only brought along in case of an emergency.
Shay shook his head to settle his thoughts. He wanted to apologize, but, despite his usual knack, the words refused to flow. He did not want to provoke the tribesman's anger and risk being abandoned altogether. He finally accepted what had been hammering at the back of his mind all morning; he was tired of being alone. He cast a despondent glance at Avari, but her keen eyes were focused straight ahead. He tried to shift his thoughts into the comforting pattern of meditation, but failed miserably.
At the head of their troop, Jundag ground his teeth with every plodding step. Of the three, only he was sure of his emotions; he was angry. He was angry at Shay
for interrupting his moment with Avari. He was angry with Avari for spurning him. And most of all, he was angry with himself for allowing this situation to occur. He gauged Avari among the best fighters he had ever met, by far the most skilled woman. She had strength equal to most men and quickness to equal his. But what impressed him most was her ability to think during melee. She invariably had the right trick to evade or reverse an attack, and never made the same mistake twice.
What did she expect? he thought, pausing to let the others catch up. She proves herself my equal in combat, then parades around in front of me in naught but damp linen. She even teased me, as only children or lovers do. He snorted to himself and slogged on through the snow, cursing himself for letting his emotions affect his life as they had so profoundly in the past.
The scents of charred wood and seared flesh stung the companions' noses long before they came upon the burned-out farm. Realization of just how far they were from the security of Beriknor sent a chill of apprehension through their bones. Skirting the tips of the fence posts that marked the edge of a snow-blanketed corral, they brought their weapons to the ready.
Rage gripped Avari's stomach in a cold fist as the burnt buildings hove into view. The snow-shrouded skeletons of a barn and house stood in the shelter of a protective crescent of lofty pines. Visions of her home stirred a deep loathing for the foul bandits who had wreaked this havoc.
The snap of Jundag's fingers jolted Avari out of her murderous visions, drawing her and Shay closer.
"The barn first," he whispered as he scanned the area, an arrow already nocked. "Be ready to cut your shoes loose. They slow you down in a fight."
Avari clutched her bow and loosened her sword in its sheath. Shay's knuckles were white on the haft of his hammer. They crept forward, but there was nothing left to endanger them. The blaze had devoured the barn and animals; not one remained alive. Jundag examined the frozen carcasses. Quarters of several cattle had been hacked off, the underlying flesh charred black.
"Raiding for food?" Avari glanced at the arc of trees at the edge of the cleared land. Jundag grunted in agreement and started toward the farmhouse.
The house showed less damage, as if the snows had smothered the fire, but its inhabitants had fared no better than the livestock. The few pitiful corpses were half buried beneath the collapsed roof, charred beyond recognition. A broken sword lay beside one of the bodies; a crude affair, it probably belonged to the farmer who died trying to defend his home and family.
Avari picked her way through the clutter, struggling to push back her own clamoring emotions. She almost lost her battle when, upon upending a heavy oaken table, she spied a small pink slipper, something a little girl might wear. Bending to retrieve the object, Avari's cloak caught on something stuck in the table. A crossbow bolt protruded from the wood, its leather fletching untouched by flame. Jerking the barbed head free, she held it out to Jundag. He took the bolt, scrutinized it briefly then cast it aside in distaste.
"Orcs!" he spat, disgust evident on his face.
"So it would seem," confirmed Shay, eyeing the carnage. "Attacking just before the storm, judging from the snow in here."
"Well, now that we know what our raiders are, we know where to look for them," Jundag announced, looking satisfied. He picked his way back to the door and began to don his snowshoes, glancing at the angle of the sun as it peeked from behind the clouds. "Orcs dwell deeper in the mountains, not the foothills. It is a long walk. We had best be moving."
"These people need a proper burial," began Shay, but Jundag shoved him aside to grab his pack.
"If you can bury them and still catch up to me, be my guest," the tribesman scoffed. "We are already more than a day behind." He slung his pack over his shoulders and stalked off toward the trees, his broad back forestalling any protests.
Avari looked from Jundag to Shay and back then moved to the door. "Come on," she said as she struggled with her own snowshoes. "He's the only one who knows where he's going."
Shay sighed, mumbled a quick prayer over the frozen bodies, and hurried to catch up.
A huge spruce offered them shelter for the night. By tramping down the snow on one side, they could duck under the boughs and camp in the dry bole beneath. Jundag started a small fire just outside the branches, the flames sheltered by the surrounding bank of snow, and soon had a savory stew of vegetables and dried beef bubbling over the coals.
Dinner was even more somber than the day's march. The forced conversation at the farmhouse had done nothing to ease the tension, and the unseen presence of the murderous orcs now weighed on their minds as well. Jundag demanded that they set watches, sleeping in shifts.
"I'll take the morning watch," Avari volunteered as she yawned and bedded down in the shadows beyond the fire.
"I shall take the first watch," offered Shay.
Jundag grunted and dragged his blankets into the shadows, far from where Avari lay.
The woman watched him go then glanced over to see Shay staring at her, obviously puzzled. He averted his gaze, leaving her wondering what could have provoked his confusion. The morning's frustrations returned in full force. Avari still could not fathom what had gone wrong. Fatigue prohibited an in-depth analysis, but worry would not let her rest easily. She burrowed into her blankets and tried to blank her mind, staring at Shay's elegant silhouette against the glow of the low fire before finally drifting off to a troubled sleep.
Her wet, black nose pressed firmly into the snowy imprint, and a huffing snort drew the spoor deep into her sensitive nasal passages. Human, the spoor told her. Another human, this one male, the next imprint revealed. Pack. The third spoor snapped her attention to full awareness. She huffed and snorted, trying again and receiving a subtly different signal: Human-elf, strange, spicy, wholesome. She snarled at the unidentifiable mixture, growling at the nearest pack member for fouling the spoor. The large male growled back, hunger evident in his stale breath and cold stare.
"No!" she said, reading the male's intent. "We will not feed on these ones." She received another cold stare and bared teeth in answer. This male had been giving her trouble for years, always trying to usurp her authority. Her hackles raised, and she bared two-inch fangs. The male ducked and paced, knowing he was no match for her but sensing that he should be.
Days had passed since the feasting on the metal-clad pig-men, and the forest had settled into the stillness of winter starvation. Scarcely a few rabbits and a single deer had fallen to the pack since that time, and even the pups were yelping with hunger. She growled at her own folly, retrieving her bow and stringing it in one smooth motion, her keen eye surveying the dark trees for any sign of game.
WHSSSSST, THOCK!!
A fat owl fell from a nearby pine, plopping to the snow with her arrow through its skull. The pack descended on it before it even stopped flapping, leaving naught but a red stain in the snow. She could never hope to feed such a number with small game. The pack needed meat, and soon, but the new scents had piqued her interest, and the pack could go a bit longer on rabbits, mice and the odd owl or crow. She led them in the trail of the spoor, ignoring the growls and hoping they would not try her patience any more before they could feast.
CHAPTER 13
Something was wrong.
Jundag snapped awake, his senses overwhelmed by an indistinct feeling of dread. His nearest weapon in hand, he prowled around the tree in a crouch. The dim light of pre-dawn filtered through the boughs, reflecting off the snow. Shay lay in his cloak and extra blankets, snoring lightly. The fire was only smoldering coals. Several branches lay to the side of the fire pit, ready for the morning cooking, but Avari was nowhere to be seen. Jundag cursed under his breath, moving to touch Shay's shoulder. The half-elf awoke with a start, snatching Jundag's wrist, but his eyes cleared in a moment.
"Trouble," the tribesman said, bringing Shay to full awareness in an instant. "Avari is missing."
"Where..."
"I do not know, but I shall look."
&nb
sp; Shay threw his blankets aside and stood. "I'll come along, just—"
"No," Jundag interrupted. "If she returns and both of us are gone? Her sword, shield and greaves are here, but her bow is not. There are no signs of struggle. She is likely not far, but be ready to follow if you hear me call."
Shay acknowledged the wisdom of the plan, but didn't look happy with it. He knelt to stoke the fire to life.
Jundag gathered his weapons and strode without snowshoes into the drifts. Avari's tracks were easy to follow, and she, too, had gone without the aid of her snowshoes. The forest was thick here, and her path wound among the evergreens and winter-bare oaks. He stopped every few steps and listened, his eyes scanning the trees.
Jundag froze as he spied movement ahead. He crouched in the sparse cover and peered around the base of a tall pine. He had not been following Avari's trail for long, but dawn's light had brightened enough to reveal the scene ahead. Avari crouched behind a tree at the edge of a small clearing. Her bow was raised and ready, her attention fixed across the open space at something out of the tribesman' sight.
Before he could make a move, Avari rose from cover and fired. She had another arrow ready before the first reached its target, but she relaxed and replaced the arrow in her quiver. Her first shot had been true. Jundag's fears eased as the death squeal of a rabbit pierced the still air. He watched in silent awe as she loped through the deep snow and out of his sight.
She moves like a mountain cat, he thought. As Jundag stepped from hiding, the entire clearing came into view. Avari knelt thirty steps away, her hunting knife in her hand. At her feet lay a fallen snow hare, fat from its autumn feasting. Her arrow had killed it outright, a perfect shot.
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