She reached for her knife, only to discover that she had no knife. No belt. In fact, she wore no clothes at all, and it wasn't until that realization that she felt cold. Goosebumps shot up all over her, her hair standing on end.
The first wolf-a beautiful thing, white as new snow-was almost upon her. Hweilan crouched and raised her arms to protect her throat.
But the wolf rushed right past her, so close that its fur brushed her leg. The final step it leaped into the air and plummeted into the mist. Another wolf followed it, then another, then three more. In moments it seemed an entire river of wolves rushed past her, their claws clicking on the rocks, and their panting breaths enveloping her in thick, warm fog. Every one leaped into the open air and fell without a sound, the mist swallowing them.
Only the black wolf remained. It stood a few paces in front of Hweilan, watching her for a moment, then turning back to look into the woods. A low whine escaped it, and she could see tension in its movements. Fear. What could have-?
Then she sensed it.
It had not been the wolves' eyes intent upon her. Something from the woods was watching her, from up there in the dark where she couldn't see it. And it was getting closer. She could sense it, like a sudden lightness to the summer air that meant a storm was on the way.
She heard rustling and shrieking in the woods, and as she watched a great cloud of birds erupted from the trees for miles around. They flew every which way, most seeking the heights and speeding away, but she saw some of the stragglers stop their fluttering midair and fall back to the ground as if dead. More creatures ran past her-mice, squirrels, bears, and many strange creatures that she'd never seen. Those who could scrambled down the cliffside. The others leaped, much like the wolves had done. Even the insects were leaving the shelter of the woods.
Most of the breeze had been coming up from the valley itself, pushed upward by the great fall of water. But now the wind shifted, coming from the woods itself, and Hweilan smelled something putrid and foul.
The black wolf gave her a final look that seemed to shout-Run! — then it too leaped off the cliff.
Hweilan coughed at the foul stench coming from the woods. What could make such a foul reek?
Then she heard laughter and singing. The voices were sweet, but in the laughter she sensed hot malice, and even though she could not understand the words of the song, she sensed blasphemy in the words.
Whatever it was, it was getting closer.
Time to choose, said a voice from behind her. Something about it reminded her of her mother.
She turned, but no one was there. Only the distant falls and a long, long drop.
She turned back to the woods. Death, said the voice again. Death comes from that way. Be sure of it. Hweilan faced the chasm again. And that way…
The voice trailed off. Death? Something worse? The animals had leaped that way, without hesitation, choosing the drop into nothingness over whatever approached from the dark.
Choose, Hweilan.
She took a deep breath, gagging on the reek, then took two quick steps and leaped, pushing as far as she could in hopes of clearing the cliffside rocks below.
Her mind swirled, her body took in one great gulp of air.
She plunged into the mist, the wetness hitting her naked skin like a cold slap. Her whole world went gray, she took in another breath to scream It came out a cough. Water sprayed out of her nose and throat, and she found herself on her hands and knees on a rock floor, bits of grit and sand raking into her skin. Her hair hung in heavy, dripping clumps, and water streamed off her, as if she'd just been dumped from a bath.
A cold bath. She was shivering, and her breath clouded in front of her face.
Still on her hands and knees, she looked up.
She was in a cavern. Bigger than any she'd ever been in. Her grandfather's hall could have fit inside with room to spare. Great columns of stone went from floor to ceiling in no particular order. In other places, long cones of stone hung from the ceiling or pushed up from the floor. A red glow lit the cavern, making the damp stone seem almost bloody. But she couldn't see where the glow was coming from. It certainly gave no heat.
Still shivering, Hweilan stood.
Cold, said a voice. The same one that had spoken to her on the cliffside. But this is a lifeless place now. I am gone. Empty dens, dead hearts… cold.
"Who are you?" said Hweilan. "What is this place?"
Hweilan heard a light splashing behind her and turned. A pool took up the back half of the cavern, its water almost black in the dim light. Emerging from the pool was a tall figure, moving with a bestial grace, all willful intent commanding smooth movement. Not a wasted motion, as if the body were more raiment than flesh.
A woman's body, but Hweilan could not put the word woman to this figure. She was far too… other. Her frame was thin, but there was no hint of weakness or want in her limbs. Hweilan could not discern the exact color of her skin, for a slick wetness covered the woman from forehead to toes. The wetness was too thick and dark for water; the figure before her was covered with blood.
Although she was wet in it from head to toe, the woman's hair was stainless, woven into scores of tight braids that hung to her waist. Amid the locks were smooth stones, bits of bone, feathers, and dozens upon dozens of tiny flowers. Even through the strong, metallic scent of the blood, Hweilan could smell the flowers, almost as if they were newly bloomed and still growing.
The figure stopped upon the shore and looked down on Hweilan. Her Uncle Soran had been the tallest man she'd ever known, but even he would have looked up to this woman's chin.
Hweilan swallowed and said, "Wh-who are you?"
The woman cocked her head, almost birdlike. Her lips did not move, but Hweilan heard the words, My name holds no more power in your world. For generations I guarded and guided your people like a mother to her cubs. But the cubs have gone home. All but two. And you do not need a mother. Time to grow up, Hweilan inle Merah. Time to hunt.
"I… I don't understand."
You do not need understanding. You need to choose. Understanding will come later… if you survive.
"Hweilan!"
She jumped, and her eyes snapped open. How long-?
"Hweilan!"
It was Lendri. Whispering, but most definitely Lendri. And close.
"H-h-here!" she called out, and was surprised at the weak rasp of her voice.
She sensed movement outside her shelter, but she didn't have the strength to look up. Strong hands helped her out.
"You're freezing," Lendri said.
"It's… not s-so bad… nuh-n-n-ow."
Lendri muttered something in his own language, then said, "Do your hands and feet hurt?"
She shook her head again, and managed, "H-haven't… f-felt 'em, f-f-for a w-while."
Lendri rummaged through the one pouch on his belt. "I have something," he said. "Not a permanent solution, but we can't risk fire just yet. This will help."
He held out a small, dark something to her.
"Kanishta," said Lendri. "A root that has been… treated. It will give you some strength back and keep you warm. For a while." Gently, he opened her mouth and shoved the root between her cheek and teeth. "Chew."
At first, she could barely open her mouth wide enough to wedge the root between her teeth. But whatever the root was, the tissue in her mouth responded to it almost immediately, flooding her cheek with fresh spit. The taste of the root hit then, and she almost gagged, but one swallow and a tingling warmth spread from her mouth and throat to her head. She managed to chew, coaxing more juice out of the root. It was beyond bitter, but with each swallow, she felt warm, and vigor began to work its way back into her limbs.
"Better?" Lendri asked.
"Much," she said. "Tastes like garden soil, but it's… warm. Oh, that's magical."
"Only somewhat. Are you hurt?"
"Scrapes and bruises," she said.
Now that she could feel her limbs again-and feel something besi
des cold-her mind seized on…
"The Nar, the tigers, are they…?"
"I killed two Nar," said Lendri. "And Hechin scattered their horses. But they are still out there. Can you walk?"
"If they're still out there, I can run."
Lendri let out a short bark of a laugh, then said, "Besthunit nenle will do."
"What?"
"A proverb," he said. "Hurry up slowly.' We need to move fast, but not so fast that we announce our presence to anyone within a half mile." He took their packs from her and fit them on his back. "Now let's move."
He turned and headed off into the dark.
Hweilan followed. "But, Lendri… oh, gods, what was… that… that thing? It looked like my uncle. My uncle! But it wasn't. I swear it wasn't. It-"
He didn't turn or slow. "I know."
"What was it?" she whispered.
"I do not know. But I could feel its…"
"Wrongness."
"Yes." Lendri stopped on the trail and turned to her.
"Like the taste of meat gone bad," she said. "Yet somehow still…"
"Yes. I know. It's-"
"And those… those other… th-things?" She was having a hard time catching her breath. She could hear herself beginning to babble, but she couldn't stop. "I–I-I s-saw them! Like children! But one of them was riding a tundra tiger. Riding! No one rides tundra tigers. And the ravens… when Kadrigul was after me."
"Kadrigul?" said Lendri. "The Siksin Nene?"
"Siksin what?"
"The pale one. Frost Folk your people name them. This Kadrigul…?"
"Yes, that's him," said Hweilan. "You saw. Didn't you see? Ravens… hit him. Dozens of them. Hundreds maybe. That was… you?"
"No," said Lendri. He had gone very still, save for his head, which he turned this way and that as if listening. She could hear him sniffing the air. His voice dropped to a whisper. "That was… I don't know what that was."
"What is it?" she whispered.
"Shirt!" Lendri stepped forward-more of a pounce really-and grabbed her arm in a painful grip. She looked down. Too dark to see clearly, but she could see that his glove and much of his sleeve was smeared with something dark. The scent hit her. Blood. He still had the blood of dead men on his hands.
"Lendri?"
He drew an arrow from his quiver and placed it on the string of his bow. "Run!"
He pulled the arrow to his cheek, and in that instant the moon peeked out from a rent in the clouds. In the new light, Hweilan saw that Lendri had nocked a fowling arrow-no arrowhead, just a hardened tip of wood, meant to stun birds without spoiling the meat.
"What are you-?"
"Run, girl!"
A bone-shaking roar came out of the woods behind them, followed by another off to the side.
"Run!"
She ran. Behind her, she heard the twang of Lendri's bow, followed by a sharp cry, then the sounds of Lendri following.
The woods around them erupted in a riot of sound-many shapes blundering through the brush, high-pitched cries, and above her on the left, the roar of a tiger. The sound washed over her, a physical force, and for three steps her knees weakened, threatening to buckle beneath her.
Lendri grabbed her above the elbow, pulled her back up, and dragged her behind him. A huge shape hit the ground several paces in front of them, stirring up a cloud of snow and spraying branches everywhere. Though she couldn't see it clearly through the snow, she knew it was a tiger.
Lendri pulled her to the right, but too quickly. Her feet tangled over an exposed root or branch, and she went down, breaking Lendri's grip. She scrambled to her feet. Several feet away, Lendri was standing still again, one hand reaching over his shoulder, fingering the nock of another arrow in his quiver.
In front of them crouched two tigers.
And one of them bore a rider. A small rider, to be sure, child-sized, but the long spear it held looked lethal. In the dim light, the rider's eyes gave off a pale luminescence.
That was when the smell hit her. Flowery almost. But not quite. It had the sharp tinge of cold, like the autumn winds off the Giantspires-the breezes that promised the first storm of the season, bringing days of howling winds, bitter cold, and darkness even at midday.
Another tiger had come in behind them, and in the woods all around, more glowing eyes watched them. The nearest was no more than five or six paces away-two pale diamonds seeming to float in the air. But even as Hweilan watched, a form materialized around the eyes-whatever magic had hidden the creature dismissed. This one held a sword, but not like any she had ever seen. It drank in the little light off the snow and seemed to amplify it, so that the cold steel seemed a shard of ice. Jagged edges and protrusions angled off the blade near the hilt, giving it a thorny appearance. And although the creature would have had to stretch up on tiptoes to reach Hweilan's head, it held the sword with an easy confidence.
"Lendri," Hweilan rasped, "what do we do?"
"Do not reach for a weapon," he said. "Don't even move."
"Very good advice," said a voice from the darkness, "coming from a fool such as you, Lendri."
A fierce gust swept down the hillside, rattling branches and snow into a stinging tide that washed over them. The air caught and swirled next to the little swordsman, forming a small cyclone of snow and shadow. When it settled, another figure stood there, much taller than the hunter, snow and frost wafting off his armor like tiny cataracts. The armor itself was more elegant than anything Hweilan had seen-a breastplate, spaulders, and tassets made of many layers of fitted metal, which gave off their own unearthly sheen. A long cloak hung from the spaulders, and in the dark it rippled like a living shadow as the wind died away. The man wore no helmet, and his long hair played in the breeze. He rested one hand on the head of a tundra tiger and scratched it between the ears, as if it were a favorite lap cat.
Lendri still hadn't lowered his hand from his quiver. "Your skills have improved, Menduarthis."
"Your sense has not." The man spoke in Common, though with enough of an accent that Hweilan could tell it was not his native tongue. "I always hoped you'd come back. But I never actually believed you so stupid. I must say, I am most pleased to have been proven wrong. You and your friend are going to surrender your weapons now." He motioned to the little warriors all around them. "Valdi sinyolen."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hweilan stood dumbfounded. Had Lendri just called the man by name? The man had definitely called Lendri by name. But was he a man? His skin was pale as Lendri's, but his breath wasn't steaming in the frigid air, and he seemed quite comfortable in the cold, with no cloak, coat, or hood.
Two of the little hunters came toward her, weapons held ready in one hand, the other reaching out to take her bow.
She pulled back. "No!"
The hunters stepped back, and a dozen spears lowered in her direction.
"Voi!" Lendri shouted. "Ele vahat sun!" He had already been disarmed. Even his quiver was gone.
"Now, now, Lendri, you don't give orders to the Ujaiyen," said the armored man. He sounded amused. "Not anymore."
He walked off the slope, pushing his way through the brush and past the hunters to approach Hweilan. She stiffened and stood her ground.
The man looked her up and down, and reached one gloved hand toward her.
She stepped back, raising the bow before her and reaching for her knife.
"Easy, easy," said the man. "Don't be skittish. You've got nowhere to skit."
Hweilan risked a glance over her shoulder and saw two of the little hunters behind her, both holding spears.
"Menduarthis, please-" said Lendri.
"I'm not going to hurt your friend," Menduarthis told Lendri, though he kept his eyes fixed on Hweilan. He smiled. "Not yet, anyway."
Before Hweilan could react, Menduarthis's hand shot forward and pushed down her hood.
"Well!" His eyebrows shot upward and he smiled. "I go out for a night of hunting beasts and instead happen upon a rare flower."
> He stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. Hweilan stepped back and brought her knife out and forward in a quick swipe. Menduarthis pulled back in time, her blade barely missing his finger.
"Ho!" Menduarthis laughed. "This flower has thorns, I see! Don't worry, little one. I'm not out to peel your petals."
"Leave me alone," she said.
Menduarthis chuckled. "Not tonight. Why so unfriendly?"
"Menduarthis, please!" Lendri called. "Allow me to explain!"
Still watching Hweilan-she couldn't tell if his gaze was lecherous, curious, or simply amused; a little of all three she suspected-he called out something in a tongue she didn't recognize. Two hunters lowered their spears at Lendri, and all around her Hweilan heard many blades leaving their scabbards.
"Know what I told them?" said Menduarthis.
"No," Hweilan replied.
"I told them that if your friend over there opens his mouth again, my friends are to kill him." He pushed at the inside of one cheek with his tongue, thinking, then said, "A shame, really. Truth be told I always liked Lendri. I don't suppose you've seen his little wolf friend around, have you? What's its name? "Itching'?"
Hweilan glared at him. "Hechin."
"No matter. Let's talk about you. What's your name?"
Hweilan's glare deepened to a scowl. She didn't lower the knife.
"Not very friendly, is she, Lendri?" Menduarthis called out. When Lendri didn't answer, he looked over his shoulder at the elf and said, "Oh, yes. You aren't to speak. So glad you're paying attention."
When Menduarthis turned back to Hweilan, his gaze had hardened. The hint of lechery and curiosity was gone. The amusement was still there, but it was peeking from behind a very dark curtain.
"Let me tell you something, little flower," he said. "The world is not a nice place. Fools say it's unforgiving, but that's why they're fools. The world doesn't forgive because it doesn't blame. And the world doesn't blame because it doesn't care. So here's my little lesson for you tonight: You can name yourself, or others will name you. And you might not like what they call you. So I'll ask you one more time." He leaned in closer, just beyond the point of her knife. "What's your name?"
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