Elynna stumbled several steps toward the hearth while her cold windburned cheeks bathed in the luxurious warmth emanating from the fire. Despite Noab’s concerns about their host, the warmth was such a relief she thought of nothing else for several long moments. But as her companions filed in around her, she saw along the right side of the hall, opposite from the fire, a row of tables holding a hearty feast. Whatever concerns had crept over her disappeared at the sight and smell of food.
“I hope this will suit your needs,” said Creagon, the only one of the Undeani warriors who had entered the hall. “Eat your fill and rest well. Some of the villagers may come to join you, but do not wait. You are hungry and cold. If you run out of food, we will bring more. We are a hospitable folk.”
Elynna nodded and thanked him, overwhelmed with gratitude for this unexpected gift. Several of her companions echoed her words. Creagon bowed, then, without further word, he opened the door to leave, letting in another cold blast of air.
Then Elynna and her companions were alone.
“Well, this is fortuitous,” Lluach said, as they all removed their ropes and wet cloaks.
Several others voiced their agreement as they moved across the room toward the fire or to the tables of food. “Quite a shock finding a tavern in a place like this.” Aram laughed. “I hadn’t heard the Undeani were so civilized.”
“Hush,” Tienna warned.
“Don’t worry; he’s gone. Look at the fare. I hope the ale is as warming as the fire.”
“Not bad,” said Kayle, who had already found a pint and put it to his lips. “A little weak, maybe—not like dark Northland brew—but a pleasant change from goat milk.”
“Anything warm?” asked Pietr, who still stood by the fire shivering.
“Something in that pitcher is steaming,” said Aram, nodding toward the table beside him, “but don’t ask me to try it. I’m with Kayle. I’ve had too much milk.”
Elynna breathed a soft sigh, releasing some of the tension she had been holding. Despite her misgivings about Creagon and the near constant awareness of the Daegmon, she was glad to see her companions in good spirits. It was a dramatic reversal from just a few minutes ago. She was glad also for the fire. She warmed her hands by the blaze a while longer, then headed toward the tables of food. The steaming vessel Aram had seen was indeed goat milk flavored with honey. It tasted good and warmed Elynna’s throat as it went down. Soon she was enjoying bread and cheese, and then lamb.
As the fire and food overcame her fatigue and hunger and cold, she listened to her companions conversing. The Andani and Ceadani Highlanders all had mugs of the hot milk and were talking about the fierceness of the storm they had endured. They argued good-naturedly about whose villages endured the most extreme weather. Even Anchara and Noaem, with their limited vocabulary, were engaged in the debate. Keet had finally thawed out, and though at first even the food and fire had failed to cheer him, Namha had come over to speak with him with Nahoon as their translator. Keet now grinned broadly, listening to Namha telling tales of his training, while Marti and Beth and the other Westwashers also listened in.
But Elynna’s attention was soon drawn from these conversations toward Cane and Cathros, who sat near the fire with mugs of ale in serious discussion about the forthcoming battle. They strategized about how to organize the ungifted while the two of them carried the thrust of the attack using their gifts enhanced by the new talisman. Cathros had pulled a charred stick from the blaze and used it to sketch possible formations on the stone hearth and ways to attack the creature while keeping aware of its jaws, talons, and tail. The other Angare were with them, along with the two former soldiers, Alrew and Lluach. Tienna sat next to them also. They then went over the two previous battles—outside Gale Enebe and in the Plains—noting what had worked well.
Elynna was about to join them, when she felt the probe of her enemy’s mind. With an acrid smell, the awareness of the creature’s thought passed through her mind. It lasted but a moment, then shifted to the constant dull ache that had plagued her through the afternoon. But it was long enough for Elynna to realize what the enemy wanted—to know where she was.
Concerns she had put aside under the influence of food, drink, and fire swirled around her once more. She sat down next to Tienna. “It knows we are here,” she said. She didn’t mean to say it loudly, but the moment she had spoken, the others around her fell silent and looked at her with questions. For a minute she heard only the crackling of the burning wood, the muffled sough of wind blowing across the top of the roof, and the breathing of those around her.
“You felt it?” Tienna finally asked.
“I have felt it all day,” Elynna replied. “Felt the burning of its presence, that is. But there are times when I sense something more. Not just its presence but its thoughts.”
“What was it thinking?” Cane asked.
He had a peculiar edge to his voice that Elynna couldn’t name. She didn’t answer him. Something else bothered her. She turned to Tienna. “The wind today. Was it unnatural?”
Tienna shook her head. “I did not sense any illness. Not like the sickness I felt in the dirt and mountainside before the Daegmon emerged.”
Cane narrowed his eyes. “Why are you asking?”
Elynna wasn’t sure how to explain what she was still trying to understand herself. “Before the fierce wind came up today, the pain of our enemy’s presence was strong. I wanted to turn around. It was all I could do to keep moving forward. Then the wind came, and the sense of our enemy faded.”
“It has come and gone often, has it not?” Cathros asked, his voice more gentle than his brother’s.
“It has. I mean, today, it never completely disappeared. But the intensity of my awareness came and went. I felt it again just a moment ago. Probing. As if making sure I was here. That it had expected me to be here. As soon as it knew where I was, it withdrew its thought.”
“And the wind?” Tienna asked. “Why did you mention the wind?”
“Because it seemed to be me that the wind blew us here.”
Aram laughed. “I thought the wind would blow me all the way to the western sea. When wind like that blows across Anghatte, it buries cities in sand. But wind must have some direction to blow. Don’t think too much of that.”
Elynna nodded. “No. I don’t. And yet, when that wind came up behind us—just before the Daegmon stopped probing—I could not have turned and gone the other direction had I wanted to.”
The conversation continued for a while after, but at the mention of the wind a sudden feeling of dread and hopelessness fell over Elynna. She thought back on the whole journey from the day they had left Citadel. Some invisible wind had been pushing them all the way.
While the voices of others drifted over her, she turned to Tienna, and in a quiet voice meant only for her friend, she shared her thought. “When have we made any choices?”
Tienna looked surprised by the question and didn’t answer.
“We never chose to go to Citadel. Golach took us prisoner. I know we escaped on our own, but what choice did we have after that? We fled here, with an army pursuing us. We fled across the lake. When we reached the pass, what choice did we have but to continue north into Undeani land? Even Braga and his folk took our choices away. Then that wind today.” She paused. She hadn’t known where this conversation would take her, but now she did. “We aren’t making choices. We haven’t been free to make real choices for days or weeks. We’re just going where we are forced to go.”
To Elynna’s surprise, Tienna smiled. “It does feel that way, doesn’t it? My people have long lists of heroes. Their names are woven into our songs and bedtime tales. Heroes are the ones who make great choices.”
“And we aren’t making any,” Elynna concluded.
“But we are,” Tienna said, “though maybe not the choices you are thinking about. Maybe the seemingly big c
hoices are the illusions. There are forces putting us places without any will of ours. The forces of Citadel. Of the king and Golach. Or the wind and weather. Or maybe our very enemies have forced us here, and we only think we have chosen this quest.”
“Then what are we choosing? Do we choose to fight the Daegmon, tonight or tomorrow or whenever we get the chance?”
“Maybe not,” Tienna said. “But we choose how we will treat our companions every morning when we wake. And maybe those are the choices that matter, the ones that define us. We may not have had much choice in our path, but we have chosen how we carry our burdens. We choose whether to take each step forward.” She paused and held Elynna’s gaze. “You and I did not choose our gifts either, but we choose to use them. And Thimeon would say that even hope is something we choose. Something we can continue to choose no matter where the winds blow us.”
At the mention of Thimeon, Elynna’s heart quickened with a sudden regret. She had chosen how to treat him, and it had not always been well. And he had chosen to leave the company. She turned away from Tienna and looked into the fire, hoping the mesmerizing current of flames would distract her. Instead they lulled her to sleep.
33
TRYING TO THINK CLEARLY
Elynna awoke slumped over on a bench at an awkward angle with her head resting on her arm in a puddle of her own drool. Her right leg tingled as though it had almost fallen asleep. She sat up quickly, but it took her a moment to clear the fog in her head, and remember where she was and how she had gotten there. How had she fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position? Was it morning? How much time had passed?
She looked around. It appeared to be evening still. Had she slept only a few minutes? Her companions were gathered on benches near the fire. A few were still enjoying the food, nibbling on a piece of bread or meat or a sipping a beverage. Their voices drifted past her. The three Ceadani now talked among themselves in their own tongue. Noab looked tense. Anchara said something to him. She had a beautiful voice, Elynna thought, though she understood not a word of what was said. Noab gestured with his hands. Noaem and Anchara nodded in agreement. Elynna remembered then what Noab had told her as they were led into the village, and she wondered if his concerns had any substance. But what could they do now? Go back into the cold?
“Quite the surprise,” Cane said after a time. He spoke to nobody in particular. Elynna turned to listen. “I didn’t think we’d see a feast like that again after we left the Plains. This is a hospitable folk.”
“Almost as if they’d expected us,” Cathros said. “That food all waiting. And the fire, with enough wood stacked near the hearth to burn all night.”
After an awkward pause, Noab spoke. “Yes. Almost as if they’d expected us.”
Elynna caught a tone of warning in his voice. Tienna also looked at Noab, and commented. “That is strange, isn’t it? I wonder—how did they know to find us? And how did they know to have food ready? I was so eager for shelter I didn’t think about that. For that I am ashamed.”
With her toes and fingers no longer numb, Elynna could think clearly. Noab’s comment made her uneasy. That Tienna asked similar questions didn’t help. But sitting here inside the hall, she could barely sense her enemy’s presence—at least not without effort.
“They could have heard us arguing from a mile away,” Hrevia said after a moment’s pause.
“In that wind?” Tienna countered. “We could barely hear ourselves.”
“Wind does strange things,” Hrevia argued back. “When the wind comes from the sea over the desert and stirs up the sands, we sometimes hear sounds from a hundred miles away, while we can’t hear somebody beside us.”
“Or maybe Braga sent word to them,” Cathros suggested. “The Undeani must have some communication with one another. Remember how fast the news of us traveled across the Plains?”
“Braga said nothing about another village,” Noab answered. “And Braga and Creagon are as unlike as a bear and a bird. I don’t imagine they communicate too often.”
“Well, I prefer Creagon’s hospitality myself,” Aram commented. “Too bad we didn’t encounter him first. We might have avoided the storm altogether and saved ourselves a day.”
“So far we’ve been treated well,” Cathros said, “but I share Noab’s misgivings. There is something strange about their welcome. Perhaps we will get a chance to question Creagon later if he returns to join us.”
“‘Don’t steal jewels from your own cousins,’ my father used to tell me,” Aram answered. “Which is to say, I wouldn’t ask too many questions. You don’t want to offend a generous host.”
“That is true,” Tienna said. “If this is true hospitality, let us be grateful. It has come at a time of need. But let us also be cautious. Perhaps we should tell them nothing about our purposes. Nor anything about our encounter with Braga.”
The others agreed. Then Cane turned toward Elynna. “What of the Daegmon?”
“I felt it when we first arrived. I believe it is not far away,” Elynna said. “But now there is no immediate sense of danger. It’s as if it has been around here and left its smell everywhere, but the smell has faded, and I can’t pinpoint any one location. I am sure it waits for us nearby.” She paused. As an afterthought she added, “I am surprised this village still stands. Though perhaps the Daegmon has not been here long or does not attack the village because it is waiting for us. In any case, we should be ready in case it attacks us in the night.”
“A wise warning,” Cane said. “While we are warm and well fed, let us discuss our plan of attack—or defense.” The others nodded and gathered closer to listen to Cane. “With this stone—” Cane began.
He never had a chance to finish. The door of the hall opened up with another blast of cold wind. In came Creagon along with six Undeani warriors. They pushed the heavy wooden door closed behind them and crossed to where their guests sat around the hearth. After their earlier conversation, Elynna was startled to see them all armed as if for battle. Her companions, with the exception of Namha, had left their own weapons leaning against the wall by the door.
“I trust all is well?” Creagon said when he had stopped near the fire.
“Your generosity humbles us,” Bandor replied. “We have not been so well fed in many days. Nor have we spent a night under a roof. How did you know to prepare such a feast?”
“It is good to hear that you have enjoyed the food,” Creagon replied. “It is the hospitality of our leader. The drink has suited you well also?” he asked, looking at the Northlanders, who all held mugs of ale.
“It is good,” Aram replied. “I didn’t know such ale was found outside the Northland. Will you join us in a drink?”
“A kind offer,” Creagon replied. He poured himself a mug, then found an empty seat across from Cane. His fellow villagers did the same, though none removed their weapons. One sat next to Namha on the other side from Elynna. The Amanti gave him a sharp look then returned to sharpening his blades. The Undean warrior turned white and slid several feet away.
“Your village must be prospering to have a hall like this, not to mention such excellent food,” Bandor commented casually.
Creagon looked at him a moment before answering. “I admit such wealth is not as common among the Undeani, but our village has prospered since our new chieftain—the Gaergaen, as he calls himself—has come to rule over us.”
“You say he ‘has come’ to rule? You mean he is not from here?”
A look of discomfort crossed Creagon’s face. “That is true. It is another thing that is unusual about Eckidon. But the Gaergaen is an Undean, and he is a great chieftain. We are not the only village to accept him as ruler, though we were the first. Would you like more drink? Do you need blankets?”
“Blankets we have,” Bandor answered. “Though with this fire, it might be the first night in many that we don’t need them. Thank you again.”
>
“Perhaps,” came the voice of one of the other Undeani warriors who had accompanied Creagon, “they will be crowded in here with so many. We might make more room for them by carrying some of their gear to another building?” He looked at their weapons as he said this.
“A good idea, Corrig,” Creagon replied. He turned back to Bandor. “Perhaps when we clear away some of the remaining food and plates, we might store some of your belongings elsewhere?”
“That is unnecessary,” Bandor replied at once. “We have not willingly parted with our weapons or gear since we began our pursuit of the Daegmon.” At his mention of the Daegmon, several of his companions gave him sharp warning glances. Even Bandor winced when he realized his slip. Elynna turned to watch the responses of the Undeani. But Creagon said nothing at all; he was still eyeing the weapons. Corrig started to say something, but Creagon silenced him with a quick look.
“Tell me,” Bandor went on, leaning forward and staring Creagon in the eye. “Have your people suffered from the Daegmon attacks that have plagued all of Gondisle?”
Though they had agreed not to speak of their purpose for traveling into the mountains, Elynna was glad Bandor asked this question. She had sensed the presence of the Daegmon so clearly, the folk of this village must have seen it.
Creagon shook his head. “We have been told of these and have heard rumor of sister villages being attacked, but we have not been bothered. The Gaergaen has protected us.”
Protected? Elynna wondered. Was it possible that another of the gifted dwelt in the village? One with power such as Cane’s to ward off their enemy? It was too much to hope for. Still, maybe her companions’ distrust was unwarranted. If he was being dishonest, as Noab thought, it might be about something else altogether.
The Betrayed Page 33