When the arrow hit home, however, and the strange creature fell dead, Jael stayed where she was, surprised and confused. Even now that she had some conscious control over her beast-speaking, she’d expected to feel at least a pang of sorts at the creature’s death. None of the elven beast-speakers she’d met hunted, ever; in retrospect, she couldn’t imagine why she’d even tried. Even a fully controlled beast-speaker who could close out all the residual mental clamor of the animal minds in the area avoided the hunt completely, and Jael had always assumed that perhaps in the intensity of the hunt, the intimacy of the kill could still penetrate a beast-speaker’s defenses. But Jael had felt nothing but a kind of savage joy, together with a sense of near regret that her prey had been nothing but a grass rodent. Was it because of her mixed blood?
Jael retrieved her kill, slinging it over the saddle in front of her. She glanced back toward the mountains, but hesitated, reluctant to return to the caves. Right now, at this moment, she was completely free, unencumbered by other presences. Why, she could start into the mountains right now, just herself and the pony. When she needed shelter, she could make a cave in the stone of the mountains. When she needed food, she could track game with her thoughts as she’d just done. She could travel much faster, and in glorious solitude, without the puny human whom she’d only have to nurse and coddle, who would hold her back—
Jael froze in the saddle, horrified at her own thoughts. What in the world had come over her? Tanis was her friend and lover. He certainly hadn’t been holding her back the many times he’d fought by her side, protected and tended her, even saved her life. And what made Tanis “puny”? He was at least as skilled with a sword as she, and he’d done his share and more of the providing on their journey. And if he did indeed require nursing and coddling, well, he’d taken his wound helping to defend their lives, hadn’t he? Jael had no illusions that if the position were reversed, he’d carry Jael through the mountains on his back, if necessary.
Resolutely Jael urged the pony back toward the caves, only to stop again. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and for the first time she could see the outline of their full glorious height. The rays of the setting sun colored the mists gold around the craggy peaks, and Jael watched, awed, as the drifting mist deepened to orange, then red, then purple. The sudden vision was like music resonating through her body, pulling her toward the mountains as inexorably as a hooked fish is drawn to shore.
Mine, Jael thought suddenly, every drop of blood in her veins, every particle of her bones answering that resonance that echoed through her very soul. The mountains belong to me. And I belong to them.
Again Jael shook her head and urged the pony toward the caves, but for the first time a deeper doubt had settled into her. Before the dragon’s nest she’d been seeking her wholeness, her very self, and after that there’d been no time to question who or what, indeed, that self was. When she’d felt the gap in her soul healed, there had seemed to be no reason to go on—and, as she’d told Tanis, more than a few reasons not to. Now that she and Tanis were continuing on, perforce, to meet the Kresh, her own kinfolk, Jael wondered if in truth she was seeking more than a cure for the shifter curse, or to satisfy a natural curiosity. There were more answers, it seemed, to be found, and Jael wondered uneasily if these strange thoughts and feeling she experienced were only the beginning of her self yet evolving, a Jael more a stranger to herself than ever. Was she seeking a cure, or a key to herself, or—
Or a home?
“I worry too much,” Jael said aloud, her voice startling in the silence. “That’s what Aunt Shadow would say. I’m thinking awfully far ahead for a person infected with the shifter curse.”
By the time Jael made her way back to the caves, Tanis had a cheery fire burning. He gave Jael a curious look when she showed him her kill, but asked no questions, helping her clean and skin the rodent, and they jointed the animal so it would cook more quickly.
Jael had enjoyed the open space of the plain, but she found the cave, the sensation of stone surrounding her, even more comforting. The only problem was that over the years, the caves had become thoroughly impregnated with the scent of the grass hunters, a scent that Jael found very distracting. Nevertheless, the feeling of security lightened her mood considerably, and she and Tanis laughed and joked while they ate, looking at some of the adventures of the earlier part of their journey in a more humorous light now that they’d come so far.
At last their laughter quieted, and Jael met Tanis’s eyes over the fire.
“How’s your side feeling?” Jael asked softly.
“Not too bad.” Tanis’s eyes twinkled. “How tired are you?”
Jael grinned.
“Not too tired.”
Tanis raised one eyebrow.
“I suppose the smell in here makes a difference, eh?”
“Maybe.” Jael shrugged. “You’d rather go outside in the cold?”
Tanis rolled his eyes upward as if considering, then sighed and shook his head.
“Just let me get my tunic safely out of the way, will you?”
In the morning they donned their warm furs. The garmentswere a little large, but that was good, as it permitted Jael and Tanis to wear extra clothing underneath if they later required it. They led the ponies into the mountains, as the trail was far too steep and crumbling to ride. The trail climbed at such a sharp angle that Jael and Tanis started to wonder if they wouldn’t be forced to take the ponies back to the plain and abandon them after all, but by noon the trail leveled and widened somewhat. Sometimes the trail ran between rock outcroppings, but more often it was worn out of the side of the mountain, falling away at one side or the other, often steeply.
By midafternoon they were riding again, which was just as well, for the air had grown steadily colder and thinner since they began. The ponies did not seem troubled, but Tanis, already weak and tired by the morning’s exertions, was so affected that Jael wondered uneasily whether he could walk if the trail became too difficult again. She herself felt wonderful, exhilarated, her chest and nose clear for once without potions. She could feel the power Vedara had spoken of, what he called the heart of the world, thrumming through the rock like a heartbeat indeed. Gods, she could spend years roaming through these mountains, exploring from the tip of the highest peak to the deepest root.
Tanis did not share her enthusiasm. He hunched miserably on his pony, silent unless Jael spoke to him, shivering even in the heavy furs. Jael wondered uneasily whether the shifter curse was spreading more quickly through his body because of his weakness.
Jael was relieved to find caves, their perfectly round mouths showing that they had been shaped by the Kresh, at regular intervals. In fact, Jael was surprised at the frequency of these shelters until she remembered that Wirax had said nothing of the Kresh using pack animals, and of course not all of them were Wind Dancers who could run so swiftly—even if the Wind Dancers could attain such speeds laden with trade goods on the treacherous mountain road. Traders would likely travel, therefore, at a normal walking speed or slower, and thus would require trail shelters at more frequent intervals. At any rate, Jael had no difficulty locating such a shelter near sunset.
The cave mouth was open and unconcealed, but Jael was surprised to see that whoever had shaped the cave had curved the passageway sharply just after the entrance, then back again, to baffle any wind that might blow into the cave. The passageway itself was so narrow that Jael had to unload the ponies before she could squeeze them inside. After the passageway, however, the cave opened into a small but comfortable dome-shaped room. There were no supplies left for travelers, no wood or peat or even coal, although a fìrepit had been shaped in the floor. A large rock lay in the middle of the fìrepit, but it was ordinary granite.
“I suppose they’re used to the cold and don’t need fires,” Tanis said, his teeth chattering, as he followed Jael’s glance at the firepit.
“They need fires, unless they eat their meat raw,” Jael replied, scowling. Surel
y the Kresh didn’t carry coal on their backs every trip they made? “At least we’re out of the wind. I’ll get the ponies to lie down on either side of us. That’ll keep us warm enough.”
Despite her words, Jael was bitterly disappointed. It would have been impossible for them to pack any quantity of firewood—even if there’d been any on the grassy plains—or coal into the mountains on their ponies. But Tanis needed warmth, and she herself would pay dearly for hot tea.
She filled the ponies’ feed bags and settled Tanis in as comfortably as she could, then over Tanis’s protests she ventured back outside in search of something she could burn. Fortunately she was so sensitive to the resonance of the stone of the mountains that she could clearly feel where roots dug into the rocky face, and her sword cut easily through the tough, scrubby pine saplings she found in a few sheltered nooks. The wood was still green and there was pitifully little of it, but it would burn long enough to heat the cave slightly and warm water for tea, and to mull some wine for Tanis.
Despite his protests at Jael venturing out into the mountains alone, Tanis was glad enough for the small blaze that Jael kindled from the scrubby pine. Jael was gratified that the resinous wood burned easily, even green, and the wonderful smell of the crackling fire, its cheerful light, and the hot tea Jael brewed warmed them more than its heat.
After they ate, Jael tended Tanis’s side, liberally smearing the wound with the ointment Vedara had given her. She could see plainly, however, that the gray discoloration had spread across Tanis’s back like an ugly rash. Jael, however, said nothing of this, merely reapplying the dressing and assuring Tanis that despite the strenuous climb, his wound had not reopened.
“What about your leg?” Tanis demanded, and Jael, who had hoped to wait until Tanis was asleep to tend her own wound, could do nothing but unwrap the dressing around her thigh.
Tanis gasped, and Jael’s stomach lurched when she saw how far the gray had crept down her leg and up, too, over her hip. She remembered what Vedara had said about the Kresh being “more susceptible to such infection.” If the shifter disease had spread this far even with Vedara’s treatment and his ointment,
how long could Jael last before the shifter curse consumed her? Jael’s hands were shaking so badly that it was Tanis who slathered the ointment over her leg and tied the dressings in place. Jael pulled her trousers up quickly, eager to hide the tainted flesh from view. Tanis put his good arm around her, and this time Jael felt none of the wonderful inner strength she’d come to rely on—she leaned her head against his shoulder and wept, shuddering, into his tunic until there were no more tears to shed. They huddled together between the ponies, saying nothing, while the small fire, like hope, burned down to ashes.
In the morning they found it had grown much colder outside, and dark clouds warned of bad weather to come. Jael and Tanis put on both sets of clothes under the fur outer garments, and the thick layers kept out the biting wind, but their thin gloves and boots, while perfectly adequate for late spring in the lowlands, were no match for the piercing mountain winds. Jael found again that Tanis was far more affected than she, but after a few hours Jael, too, was slowly worn down by the freezing wind. Worse, the trail was growing difficult once more, and the dropoff at the side of the trail had become almost a precipice.
Sometime near midday an icy rain began to fall, and the trail grew so slick and treacherous that Jael and Tanis stopped in one of the frequent caves to thaw their numb fingers and toes and decide what to do.
“We’ll have to stop,” Tanis said, shivering and breathing on his fingers to warm them. “If the trail gets any more icy, we’ll fall right off the side of the mountain.”
“We can’t stop,” Jael argued. “We don’t know how much farther it might be.”
“How much farther could it be?” Tanis asked despairingly.
“We’ve been riding, so we’ve come at least twice the distance the Kresh would make in a day if they were walking, even on this road, at least since yesterday afternoon. How far into the mountains can these people live?”
“If they only trade with Wirax’s people a few times a year, as far into the mountains as they like,” Jael returned. “And since they are walking, it could take them days—even weeks—to reach us. We’ve got to cover as much of that distance as we can.”
“We’ll be covering a lot of the mountainside with our blood if we keep on in this rain,” Tanis said grimly.
“Tanis—” Jael hesitated. “Remember the promise you asked me to make at the edge of the Singing Forest, that if you turned shifter—”
Tanis looked away. “I remember.”
“If you turn shifter,” Jael said slowly, deliberately, “there’s no way for me to burn—anything—here. And I’m infected, too, worse than you.”
Tanis turned back to her, a troubled expression in his eyes. He nodded.
“All right, then,” he said. “We’ll keep going. As long as we can, anyway.”
“The cold and the air don’t bother me as much as they do you,” Jael said. “As long as the ponies are roped together, I think you can keep riding. You’ll stay warmer that way, too.”
“I can walk if you can,” Tanis protested.
“Now, that’s ridiculous,” Jael said patiently. “You should stay warm and conserve your strength while you can. If I get too tired or too cold, you’ll have to lead the ponies, and if you wear yourself out with me, then what are we going to do?”
“Freeze, I suppose,” Tanis sighed. “All right. I ride. For now,” he added sternly.
“For now,” Jael agreed.
As they continued up the treacherous path, however, Jael quickly realized that Tanis would never be able to take her place. The trail was climbing again, the sleety rain had increased, and the air had thinned further, but more importantly, only Jael’s constant silent reassurance and coaxing kept the ponies calm and cooperative on the slick trail. The effort of concentrating on both the risky footing and the ponies’ fear kept her mind focused away from the cold, but Jael had not anticipated how draining the dual effort and the constant cold could be. Several times one of the ponies would slip and nearly fall; then Jael would have to stop the ponies and silently comfort the trembling animal.
The hill crested, and now they were descending on a trail that wound back and forth across the mountain’s almost sheer face; Jael was dismayed to find that traveling downhill was actually more difficult than climbing the slick trail. By midafternoon she was leaning on her pony as much as she was leading it. The world narrowed to the strength of the pony beside her and the
patch of ice-slick trail in front of her, and their pace slowed until
Jael could measure their progress in inches instead of feet.
Suddenly the ponies stopped, and Jael looked up in surprise to see Tanis standing in front of her, holding the lead pony’s reins firmly.
“Stop,” he said. “Look down the trail. I thought I saw something moving.”
Jael was so cold and drained that it was an effort just to raise her head, but looking down the mountainside at the loops of trail below them, she could indeed see vague, indistinct forms moving there.
“You’re right,” Jael panted. “There’s someone coming. Or something. I can’t tell.”
Her eyes met Tanis’s, and she could tell that he was thinking, as she was, about the conversation they’d had on the second night in Vedara’s tent. Would the Kresh welcome and help them, or might they not see this half-blood stranger and her companion as intruders, even enemies?
“We’ll wait here, then,” Tanis said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder. Jael nodded, fumbling under her sleeve to make sure the bracelet with the translation spell was in place; her wrist was too numb to feel the tingling awareness of the magic.
No time to go anywhere else for a cure for the shifter curse, Jael thought with surprising calmness. If they won’t accept me, at least they’ll kill us and burn us, if only for their own safety. At least there’s that. We won’t tu
rn shifter.
She realized that her numb hands were shaking; she clenched them together hard, wincing as hot tingles ran up her cold fingers. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst. She realized belatedly that she had no idea what message Wirax or Vedara had sent to the Kresh.
The figures were closer on the trail below them, and in a lull in the rain Jael could see them more clearly, and although she could make out no details, she could count more than a dozen fur-clad figures. Some were dragging travois, although Jael could not discern whether they were empty or loaded.
For us? Jael wondered. To carry us back for help, or to carry our bodies back for burning?
The figures stopped on the trail below, and Jael thought she could see one of them pointing upward, perhaps at her. Instinctively Jael started to draw back out of sight, but she steeled herself—Why prolong it?—and raised one hand in acknowledgment. Then she blinked. Were there suddenly fewer figures down there?
Tanis’s fingers dug into her shoulder, and he made a choked, unintelligible sound. Jael spun—too quickly, her vision blurred dizzily—and almost stumbled over the edge of the trail before another hand clamped firmly on her upper arm, steadying her.
Jael stared down at the six-fingered hand clasping her arm, then forced her head up to meet the gaze of piercing, strange bronze eyes that were amazingly familiar—but then, why shouldn’t they be familiar? Jael realized, the sudden recognition causing her heart to skip a beat. She’d seen those same polished-bronze eyes, that very particular slant of cheekbones, in mirrors or reflected in still water all her life.
“Jaellyn,” the figure said, as if tasting the word for the first time. The voice was harsh and rough, perhaps with the cold.
Dagger's Point (Shadow series) Page 28