The fall of Highwatch con-1

by Mark Sehestedt

  "Hweilan, you're bleeding," said Menduarthis. He knelt beside her and gently turned her face aside. "I didn't notice it at first because of the halbdol."

  She had completely forgotten about Roakh's bite, but now that Menduarthis had mentioned it, she could feel a throbbing sting along the left side of her throat, just below her jaw line.

  "How bad is it?" She gave a sharp intake of breath at his touch.

  "Nasty, but it looks like more torn skin than anything. We'll need to clean it. Come. But triple-quick. We must hurry."

  He helped her to her feet and through the door. Beyond was an even larger room, a round door on the opposite wall, littered with even more piles of Roakh's possessions. Windowless, the room would have been black as starless midnight if not for one iron lamp hung from the ceiling. What sort of fire or magic lit it, Hweilan had no idea, but it cast sickly blue light throughout the room, casting all the piles and tables as little islands in pools of shadow.

  One other object in the room cast its own light-a wide basin, crafted from some precious metal and encrusted with hundreds of jewels. The rim glowed vibrant green, the light rippling off the fluid filling the basin.

  "What is that?" said Hweilan.

  "Just a washbasin," said Menduarthis, "which you sorely need."

  Together, they washed the worst of the gore out of Hweilan's hair. No matter how much blood stained the water, a swirl from Menduarthis's finger, and the water cleared again. Whether this was some trick of the basin itself or one of Menduarthis's spells, Hweilan couldn't bring herself to care. She'd just hacked a person to death. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the shock traveling up her arm as each blow of the blade landed-the instant of resistance as the steel passed through flesh, or the harder strike of glancing off bone. His screams… Hweilan shuddered. No, it was when the screams had stopped and she'd kept hacking away. That had been the worst.

  Hweilan's knees trembled, and then her legs gave out, depositing her on the floor. Lendri's knife, which she had completely forgotten she was still holding, clattered to the floor beside her. She would have retched again if anything remained in her stomach.

  "Are you hurt?" Menduarthis asked, as he knelt beside her.

  "I… I killed him, Menduarthis. I killed Roakh."

  "That you did. He is most certainly dead."

  Her body was shaking. She hugged herself tight but couldn't make it stop.

  "Hey." Menduarthis grabbed both her shoulders and shook her. Not hard, but enough to get her attention. "Now, listen to me. It was him or you. Believe that. True, you did get a bit… carried away. One sloppy mess you made of the old bird. But it was your first time. A little more practice, and you'll be a cold killer."

  She looked up at him. He was smiling. Not with his usual sardonic amusement. Something almost like genuine good will.

  Her body was still shaking, but she managed to give him a faint grin in return. "It… it wasn't my first time."

  His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Well, that sounds like a tale. But at the moment, Hweilan, we've got to survive today. Now let's get out of here. We've lingered too long already."

  Menduarthis stood and extended a hand to help her up.

  She grabbed his arm and stood. "Where are we going?"

  "Those horns are coming from across the river, which means that whoever is attacking either came through the main portal or from that direction, which means that the Ujaiyen, the uldra, the eladrin, the elves, the everyone, they'll be scrambling to hunt down the invaders. That whole area will be thick with fey out for blood. But there are other ways out of here. We avoid being noticed and slip through in the confusion. Everyone will be looking for trouble coming in. Not trouble getting out."

  She looked down at her clothes. Despite Menduarthis's efforts, the once-fine cloth was spattered in blood, and she was a solid black mess from her left elbow down. "Avoid being noticed? Look at me."

  "Hm. I see your point. Wait here."

  Menduarthis returned to the first room and soon returned carrying her father's bow and the red silk scarf he had given her. It was still clean.

  "Cover your hair with this. You huddle under that cloak and cowl, nice and snug, and I'll give you a good coating of snow. Carrying the bow, you'll pass a quick look for one of us."

  "And a longer look?"

  "It's the best we can do under the circumstances."

  She pulled her hair back and covered it with the scarf, knotting it in a sort of cap that would both keep her hair out of her eyes and hide the tops of her ears. Looking down to do so, she saw the knife she'd dropped on the floor. Lendri's knife. She picked it up.

  She removed all the blood she could from Lendri's blade, but much of it had soaked into the leather wrapped around the hilt. Looking at the knife, looking at Lendri's knife, it came to her then. Even if they could make it out of Kunin Gatar's realm, she had nowhere to go. The most she could hope for among the Damarans was a life in hiding and the security of wedding some minor lord. A hunted woman with no lands, no riches, no dowry, she'd be lucky to bed some minor duke's man-at-arms. A friendly tribe of Nar? She'd do little better there. If Lendri was to be believed, the Vil Adanrath were gone…

  Lendri.

  She couldn't leave him. She knew it now. Not after everything he had done for her. The knife he'd given her had saved her life, and he himself had done so at least twice, risking his own life for hers. Was he using her as Menduarthis said? Perhaps. But if so, she needed to hear it from his own lips. Look into his eyes as he admitted it. And then A life on the run with Menduarthis? To what end? Where? And how soon before he expected to share her blankets in return for helping her?

  "No," she said.

  "No what?" said Menduarthis, his voice equal parts exasperation and fear.

  "We can't leave yet. Not without Lendri."

  Menduarthis's jaw dropped, shut again, and he laughed. "You're serious?"

  "I'm not leaving without him."

  "He's using you, Hweilan!"

  "I won't forsake him unless I hear that from his own lips."

  Menduarthis turned and kicked a pile of junk on the floor. Jewelry, utensils, an old shoe, and a few books went flying. He kicked another pile for good measure, toppled a small table, and screamed, "Are you serious?"

  Hweilan opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of pounding cut her off. she could hear voices yelling outside, though they were too faint, the door too thick, for her to understand. But then she heard one, raised above all the others. "Roakh!"

  "Gods buck my bottom, they've come for him," said Menduarthis. His eyes were round and shiny as new-minted coins.

  "What do we do?" Hweilan whispered.

  Menduarthis paced the room, muttering to himself the whole time, kicking aside piles of clothes as he went. Mice scuttled squeaking from a few of them. He ran out of piles to kick at the wall, then came back toward Hweilan, shoving Roakh's belongings aside as he went.

  "What are you doing?" she said.

  "Looking. Help me!"

  "Looking for what?"

  He kicked a large pile of robes, clothes, and old tassels aside, and said, "This!"

  Hweilan stepped over, and Menduarthis pulled at an old iron ring set in the floor. A hidden door swung upward, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness.

  "Roakh?" said a voice from the other room. Someone had come in through the window, the same as Menduarthis had.

  "Where was it Roakh said Lendri is?" Menduarthis whispered.

  "The Thorns?"

  "The Thorns it is then. In you go." Menduarthis motioned to the ladder.

  From the other room came a loud cry. "Roakh! Aivilulta! Aivilulta! Roakh aiviluldulaik!

  In she went.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Wait here a moment," said Menduarthis, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Don't make a sound."

  He turned away and shuffled off around a bend in the tunnel. Hweilan was still trying to catch her breath, and she could hear little beyon
d the hammering of her own heart.

  After their frantic flight down the ladder from Roakh's dwelling, Menduarthis had led Hweilan through a series of tunnels. For a while, they had been followed by the sounds of pursuit-light footsteps and the occasional shout. And once their pursuers had come close enough for Hweilan to catch the faint green glow of the lights they held. But then a strong breeze had shot through the tunnel-Menduarthis working his magic-and they scuttled quick as they dared down a series of steps and through a series of several quick turns. It had worked, and there had been no sounds of pursuit since.

  They kept on for a long while after that, no longer running but keeping a quick pace. Hweilan's eyes strained, hungry for light, but there was only the dark, intense cold, and the sounds of their own footsteps. In places, Hweilan could feel fresh air against her skin as they passed fissures in the rock. But full night must have fallen outside, for no light leaked through. They walked in utter darkness, Menduarthis keeping a first grip on her cloak.

  But then Hweilan realized she could see again. At first she thought it was only a trick of her eyes-the swirling lights and shadows that dance before everyone's sight at times. But no. It was not clear or distinct, but there was no mistaking the shape of Menduarthis before her-a solid blackness in front of only a slightly-less-than-black background. The farther they went, the stronger the light became. It was only moon and starlight, but so hungry were her eyes for even the tiniest fragment of light that by the time they neared the end of the tunnel, Hweilan could see quite well.

  She heard furtive movement, and Menduarthis stepped back around the bend. He saw her and said, "All clear, as near as I can tell. Come."

  Hweilan followed him out of a cave mouth only slightly larger than the door in Roakh's floor. She had to crouch to get through, and the back of her cloak scraped on icicles. She stood and was struck at the cold brilliance of the night. The storm clouds had broken, and only a few tattered remnants remained-black ribbons tinged almost white by the brilliance of the moon rising over distant mountains. Only a thin crescent, but it was huge, far larger than any moon Hweilan had ever seen, and its silver light was almost painful to her eyes. A million stars rode the sky. Under their combined light, the snow and ice of the world around her shone a brilliant blue, broken only by the black of winter bare trees and jagged rocks.

  The cave from which they emerged wormed out of a broad riverbank, but the river itself was a jumble of ice rolling down a gentle slope. Presumably a smaller offshoot of the great river whose fall formed the main gates of Ellestharn. But rather than the sharp cliff of the palace, this bit of the river had taken more of a boulder-riding journey than a fall, before freezing, seemingly in an instant.

  Nothing moved for as far as Hweilan could see. Even the wind had died.

  "Where are we?" she whispered, and her breath fell as snow before her.

  "Downriver from Ellestharn," said Menduarthis. He stood beside her, his gaze roaming over the wide valley before them, his face creased with concern.

  "What's wrong?"

  "The horns," said Menduarthis. "They've stopped."

  "Is that bad?"

  "Perhaps. It could mean that they've caught whoever was causing the trouble. Or it could mean all the watches are set, and the entire force of the Ujaiyen is waiting in ambush."

  She followed his gaze, imagining the woods lining each side of the valley and every boulder hiding watching eyes. And there was something else. Something she had first felt in the Giantspires with Lendri. That pounding in the base of her skull, mingled with a growing dread. The way she imagined some animals could sense bad weather on the way. A heaviness. An itch. And it was growing stronger by the moment.

  "I think we need to go now," she said.

  Menduarthis still didn't move. Didn't even look at her. There was an edge to his voice when he said, "You're sure about this? About going after Lendri?"

  "He saved my life. Twice."

  "For his own reasons. He's using you."

  She looked down at her hands, at the bow she held, already gathering a coat of frost from her breath. Were it not for Lendri, she would be some Creel bandit's slave right now, and her father's bow long gone.

  "If that's true," she said, "I have to hear it from him."

  "If?" Menduarthis's jaw clenched and his eyes went narrow as slits, though he still didn't look at her. "That's it, then? You don't believe me?"

  She considered a moment, then said, "Much of what you say rings true. Most, in fact. But damn it, Menduarthis, the man saved me from death and worse. If he is using me, perhaps there is more to it than you know. And even if there isn't, I have to hear it from his lips before I forsake him. I owe him that."

  Menduarthis muttered something in his own language that sounded less than flattering.

  "You can find him?" she asked. "You know where these… thorns are?"

  "The Thorns," said Menduarthis, "and yes, I do."

  "So we can find Lendri?"

  "We?"

  "You promised to help me."

  "Escape. I promised to help you escape, not kill one of Kunin Gatar's chief servants, then deliver you to her with silk in your hair."

  "You were going to kill him!" she said.

  Menduarthis hissed and waved his hands at her. "Quiet, quiet. Sound travels far out here." He dropped his own voice to just above a whisper and finally looked at her. "True enough, though. I was. And then I was going to run fast and far away. Not run off rescuing the one person Kunin Gatar has dreamed of killing for years!"

  "So you won't help me?"

  "Why should I?"

  "He's kin to me."

  Menduarthis snorted. "No. He's blood brother to some distant forebear of yours. Hardly a favorite uncle."

  "And blood oaths mean nothing to you?"

  "Don't know. I've never been damned fool enough to make one."

  "Very well," she said. "I'll do it on my own."

  Menduarthis grabbed her shoulder. "Hold a moment! At least answer my question before trotting off to your untimely death."

  Her hands stopped halfway to her hood. "What question?"

  He smiled. The mischievous boy smile again. "Why should I help you?"

  She tucked the ends of her hair into the hood and raised it. "Get to the point. What do you want?"

  "For helping you steal from the queen and rescue an honor-obsessed elf?"

  "Yes."

  "A kiss."

  Hweilan felt her cheeks and ears flushing and was very glad for the deep hood and the dark halbdol masking her skin. "That's it? Just a kiss?"

  "Well, it's a start. But that's all I'll obligate to you."

  "Very well," she said. "Get me to Lendri, then help us to get out again, and afterward, I will… kiss you."

  "Us? Get us out? You mean you, me, and Lendri?"

  "That's going to depend very much on what Lendri has to tell me."

  They took their time getting down the slope of the hill and into the valley proper. Menduarthis kept them to the shadows of the wood, going from shadow to shadow until they reached the wide expanse of the frozen river.

  He stopped and gave Hweilan a chance to catch her breath. "This is where things get tricky," he said. "How do you mean?"

  He pointed across the river. It was hard to be certain by moon- and starlight, but it looked to be close to a mile across. A mile of flat snow and ice, with no cover. "We have to cross that," he said.

  "Why is that bad?" Hweilan asked. "Is this ice thin?"

  "Thin? Ha. No. Solid ice straight to the bottom, I'd wager. But we'll have no cover. Anyone watching for as far as eyes can see will see us-and many have eyes out there that are much sharper than mine." Menduarthis sighed. "We go. Quick, but not too quick. We want to look urgent, but not hurried. And if we do come across someone-or they come across us-you let me do the talking. All the talking, mind you."

  Hweilan nodded.

  "And one more thing. Where we're going… the Thorns. Not a nice place. Not nice at all. I'l
l do my best for you, Hweilan, but no promises. We may not be able to get through there, much less get Lendri out. Not if the guards have been warned against me."

  "You think they are? Looking for you I mean?"

  He shrugged. "We know they've found Roakh. And since they don't know where I am or where you are… add to that the little trick I played back in the tunnels, and it won't take long for our people to start wanting to ask me a lot of questions. Much depends on how far word has spread and how fast."

  The heaviness in her mind was almost pounding now. Hweilan could feel it, right behind her eyes.

  "We need to go," she said. "Now."

  They left the trees, hopped down the final bit of the embankment, and set off across a mile of frozen river.

  They tried to run, but with no snow shoes and almost a foot of new snow covering the ice, the best they could manage was a quick shuffle, pushing their way through and sending waves of powdery white pluming in front of their knees.

  Hweilan kept her eyes fixed on the dark line of woods ahead, fearing at any moment to see signs of movement. Once, she thought she saw a shape pass in front of the moon, but if so, it was either very small or very far away, and she could not find it against the night sky.

  They were about halfway across when a great noise broke the silence. Not just horns this time, but horns, howls, and cries, wafting out of the distance to their right.

  Menduarthis stopped in his tracks, listening.

  "What is that?" said Hweilan.

  "Kunin Gatar has returned to Ellestharn."

  "Is that good or bad?"

  "If we get out of here soon, it doesn't matter. Move."

  They kept on, Menduarthis pushing them faster now. Hweilan's legs and back were beginning to ache, but she knew they couldn't stop. Not until they were well away from Kunin Gatar's realm.

  The snow began to get shallower as they neared the far side. Most of the storm's fury seemed to have struck the palace side of the river. The bank and nearest trees were only a stone's throw away, and still there were no signs of pursuit. Hweilan believed they might actually make it. Still… that nagging weight in her mind seemed to grow with every step.