Heart of the Exiled

by Pati Nagle

  “Turn over.”

  The alben rolled awkwardly onto her stomach, the little leaf-shaped metal weights of the net tinkling together. Eliani frowned, wondering what to do next. She mistrusted the alben, and if she tried to control her, they might end up struggling again. Biting her lip, she bent and withdrew the ax shaft from her tangled ropes.

  “I am sorry for this.”

  She aimed a blow at the back of the alben’s head. A soft grunt followed, and the alben went limp. Eliani knelt to examine her, hoping she had not struck too hard.

  Heat rose in Eliani’s hands as she touched the alben, startling her. No time for a healing, though she knew through the glow in her hands that the alben was not badly hurt. The female’s khi felt peculiar, an uncomfortable prickling sensation, but Eliani did not pause to explore it.

  She rolled the alben onto her back and pulled the net out of her mouth, then quickly bound her hands with a length of rope. The alben did not wake. Eliani unbuckled the black leather belt and put it on over her silks, sheathing the dagger again. The belt also held a small flask that gave a reassuring splashing sound. She considered it her rightful prize after losing the ewer.

  Boots. She pulled the soft leather footwear off the alben’s feet and onto her own, wincing a little. They were slightly too large, but it was better than going barefoot.

  Perhaps she should take the leather armor as well. No, it would be too difficult to strip the unconscious alben, and the leathers would be no use as concealment, for her dark hair would betray her. Better to move fast and light.

  Eliani glanced toward the gate, listening, fearing some friend of the alben’s would come looking for her. She had been on patrol, walking the city’s perimeter, and no doubt would be missed before long.

  Eliani no longer had the choice of waiting for sunrise. She picked up her ropes, shook pieces of the broken ewer out of them, coiled them, and tucked them into her belt.

  The net. Take it.

  I cannot throw it.

  It might be of use, though. Take it anyway.

  Eliani picked up the net, frowning as she gathered it into an awkward bundle and shoved it through the belt. She shoved the ax shaft through it, too, beginning to feel rather bulky about the middle. Her sword she kept in hand. She might have to run, and it would be less awkward running with it in her hands than having it bounce about her legs.

  She stood back, looking at the alben. She had struck this female, injured her, and taken her possessions. All against the creed. She would have to find some way of atoning.

  Her heart suffered a pang as she realized that this enemy was yet an honored being in her view. This was the first alben she had been near, and she had felt no overriding horror. They were kin; that was obvious. There must be a way out of the strife between their people.

  Eliani—

  Yes. I am going.

  Keeping close to the wall, she started toward the gate. She walked slowly, cautiously searching both before and behind her with khi. No one came in pursuit.

  Ahead, she saw a figure above the wall. She froze.

  A male alben, alone, a dark silhouette against the night. He seemed to be watching the road. Eliani saw that she was not far from the gate, twenty paces, perhaps.

  Oh, for a bow. But that would mean killing or wounding the watcher. She preferred not to do that.

  What had come over her? She had killed countless kobalen with no more thought than a few words of regret and atonement. The alben were enemies only because they, too, killed kobalen, albeit for different reasons.

  Eliani gritted her teeth. She was beginning to think the Bitter Wars had been a terrible mistake, one for which she and her kindred were now having to atone.

  She edged forward, staying close to the wall and moving silently. Ten paces from the gate, she dared go no farther, fearing to attract the watcher’s attention. The road was only a few paces away but beyond her reach.

  Distract the watcher? She wished she had kept a piece of the broken ewer to throw over the wall. The path before her was beaten earth and clear of any loose rock. All she had were ropes and the net and the ax shaft. She was not about to part with her sword or the alben’s dagger.

  The ax shaft, then. She drew it out of her belt with careful slowness, watching the alben all the while.

  A sudden burst of shouting made her tense. She flattened herself against the wall.

  Blows, more shouting—the clash of swords. A fight, just inside the city gates! Some citizens of Ghlanhras seeking escape?

  “Mihlaran! To me!”

  Eliani gasped. Vanorin’s voice!

  The watcher on the wall had raised a bow. Eliani drew a sharp breath, then flung the ax shaft at his head. It struck him a glancing blow and fell with a clatter onto the slate tiles of a nearby rooftop, but it was enough to distract him. His head turned toward Eliani.

  She ran.

  Just before reaching the gate, she flung herself against the wall, peering upward. Stars in a velvet sky above the pale-headed alben watcher. She saw him raise his bow again, taking aim. Clenching her teeth, she fixed her khi on the bow and closed her eyes, reaching into the slender wood, setting a spark there, willing it to grow.

  A cry of alarm indicated her success. She glanced up in time to see the alben fling the flaming bow away from him.

  Pleased, she looked for something else to burn. The watcher had disappeared, gone to join the fray below. Eliani laid a hand on the darkwood of the gate, wondering if she might burn it, but no. Too hard to set alight, and her folk were trying to come out this way.

  Eliani—

  I know, but I must help them!

  The hinges of the gate stood out from the wall. She stepped on the lowest one and hauled herself up, climbing swiftly. Clinging to the topmost hinge, she raised her head to look over the wall.

  Vanorin and several others stood in a small cluster, swords outward, surrounded by a circle of alben, twenty or more of them. Three had swords; the rest held nets or bows.

  One of the sword wielders stood before Vanorin. The Greenglen lunged toward his opponent, sweeping his blade in an arc that clipped the alben’s sword arm. With a cry the alben dropped the weapon and stepped back. His neighbor lifted the sword.

  Eliani dragged her eyes from the fighting. She could not watch; she had to help them somehow. The alben outnumbered Vanorin and the others, and more were coming, running down the avenue from the center of Ghlanhras.

  The alben had mostly nets and a few bows. She knew the bows would burn.

  She unfocused her gaze, concentrating on the khi of the nets. She put a hand to the net at her hip, feeling its fibre, then searched the circle of alben below for the same fibre.

  Yes. She had it. The nets felt soft, faint whispers of khi from the plants that had gone into them, with hard glints of metal from the leaf-shaped weights. An alben threw one, and Eliani had a strange, vague sensation of floating. She shook it off, narrowing her focus to one thought.

  Burn.

  Voices rose in shouts of alarm. Her gaze was unfixed, but she saw spots of gold suddenly flame upward in an uneven ring. At its center, her escort. They stood still for a moment, then as one they dashed for the gate, pushing through the fiery circle.

  Cries of pain filled the air. Some of the nets were in the belts of the alben, burning—

  Eliani turned her mind to the bows. She fixed her gaze on one, capturing the essence of its fibre—light wood, a breed unknown to her, the same as the watcher’s bow had been—and sought out all the similar khi she could find. Drawing khi from the very air around her, she sent heat flooding out into the wood.

  More fire. More cries of distress.

  A heavy thunk vibrated through the gate and the hinge beneath her feet. She scrambled downward, felt the hinges begin to shift, and jumped to the ground.

  One gate swung inward. Cærshari dashed out of it, followed by the others. Eliani ran to join them, falling in beside Sunahran, who gave her a startled glance.

  �
�Eliani!”

  “Keep running!”

  She had no breath for more. She felt light-headed and focused all her strength on keeping her feet and getting away down the road. Shouting continued behind her but quickly faded. She dared to hope the alben would not pursue.

  An arrow whipped past her head, breaking that hope.

  “To the right!”

  Vanorin’s command heartened her. She turned with the others and skittered to a halt at the side of the road, hard against the dark wall of the forest.

  Gasping for breath, Eliani looked northward, surprised at how short a distance they had come. The gate of Ghlanhras stood ajar, and within she saw flame. Without, dark figures were advancing.

  An arrow crashed into the forest above her head. She flinched.

  “Bows!” Vanorin’s voice was hoarse. “Answer them!”

  Only five of the escort had bows. All of them stood forth, aiming arrows toward the alben.

  Arrows would burn.

  Eliani frowned in concentration. She did not want to set the bows of her friends alight, nor did she trust herself to alter more than one arrow at a time. She chose the arrow nearest her and, when Mærani loosed it, twisted the khi of the slender shaft into a flame that sped away toward the alben.

  A scream rose from the north. Eliani lit two more arrows as they flew, then called to Vanorin.

  “Run!”

  They ran. Eliani’s side began to ache. The alben’s boots were slightly loose and threatened to trip her. She began to think she must stop, then a bridge rose before them, one that crossed a small stream she remembered from their journey in.

  Their feet thundered across the darkwood. On the far side Vanorin halted them. He returned to the bridge, standing in the center of its slight rise, facing north.

  Eliani dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Her throat was dry, and she reached for the skin at her belt, then frowned at it.

  An alben had drunk from it. Was there danger of passing the curse that way?

  She flung the skin away into the woods.

  Vanorin turned. “They are not pursuing.”

  Eliani scrambled down the stream bank beside the bridge. She splashed cold water on her face and drank deeply. Vanorin joined her.

  “My lady—forgive me—”

  “Vanorin, if you call me that again, so help me—”

  “I failed you.”

  Eliani stood, ignoring the mud on the knees of her now torn and sodden silks, and gestured toward the others in the road. “You brought these guardians out alive. That is no failure.”

  He glanced toward the escort. “I did not bring them all.”

  “Enough, though.”

  He looked back at her, frowning in grief. “We saw you running across the rooftops. We tried to follow but lost you in the city.”

  “I came over the wall.”

  “It was you who set the alben’s nets alight.”

  “Yes.”

  A look of troubled wonder crossed his face. “I would never have thought of that.”

  Eliani climbed the stream bank, muscles complaining, and faced the handful of guardians that remained of her valiant escort. Eight of them and Vanorin. All turned weary eyes to her.

  “We must go back.”

  Vanorin protested. “We must get you to Woodrun, m—Eliani. We can send help from there.”

  “Luruthin is in Darkwood Hall. And Governor Othanin. We must get them out.”

  “That is folly. There are hundreds of alben.”

  “So we wait until morning.”

  Vanorin leaned back, his eyes full of dread. She saw a swallow move his throat and continued her plea.

  “In daylight, they cannot follow us. We go in the way I came out—over the wall and across the palace roofs. There are high windows all through Darkwood Hall. All we need do is open them, and the alben will not be able to pass through the light they let in.”

  Eliani looked at the faces of her guardians. Stone-reach and Greenglen, but that mattered little now. They had a common foe.

  “We bring Luruthin and Othanin out of the palace. Then we go to Woodrun.”

  Eliani—

  Luruthin helped me escape. Now I must help him.

  Vanorin was staring at her, doubt and admiration warring in his eyes. At last he nodded.

  “Very well. Tenahran and Jæthali, stand watch. Alert us of any movement beyond the bridge. We go in at dawn.” He bent to pick up a twig from the side of the road and offered it to Eliani. “In the meantime, show us the shape of Darkwood Hall.”

  Grinning, surrounded by her bedraggled guardians, Eliani squatted to scratch her battle plan in the dirt.