“My One, the three of you are exhausted.” Bannor noted how Sarai didn’t include herself in the statement. “Rest and get your strength back. We’ll need it to leave this place.”
“If we can get out at all,” he grumbled.
“You’re full of optimism this morning.” Wren poured a white powder in her palm and rubbed it in her hair. “Save the hostility for Rankorhaaz. I didn’t travel all this way to rescue a grouch.”
Sarai chuckled.
Bannor stared at his mate. She beamed back. He turned the scowl on Wren. “Getting chased by demons makes me grumpy.” He found a pebble and tossed it in the water. “Rankorhaaz will be waiting for us—”
Wren cut him off. “Irodee-Sarai, dunk him!”
By the time he registered what the she had said, his mate and Irodee were already reaching for him.
“No.” He pointed a finger.
Neither stopped. Bannor scrambled off the rock. They caught him before he moved far. Their hands clamped on his biceps and wrists. He struggled, but Irodee weighed too much and Sarai’s grip was like steel.
“Hey, not now-don’t-don’t!”
They did.
The bath did make him feel more alert. Steaming water loosened taut muscles and cleansed his grimy skin. When everyone finally finished removing a week of trail grime, the sun had risen high in the cloud-streaked sky.
Wren refused to discuss the avatar’s pursuit. She told him to relax, reality would be facing them soon enough. Bannor translated that as meaning she hadn’t yet figured a way out of their predicament.
Turned away from the pursuit, he was left with thoughts of what he and Sarai should do. What did they really want? Where did they go from here? They couldn’t blindly follow Wren around without a plan of their own. The question was, what could they do? They would never be able to have the pastoral life that they used to enjoy. Rankorhaaz and all the fiends and slavers that came after him would see to that.
Seek refuge, Wren said. What did she mean by refuge? What was deemed a ‘safe’ place? If it meant being trapped behind walls unable to venture anywhere without fear, neither he nor Sarai wanted any part of it. Would he really rather die than live a life closed behind walls?
With those heavy thoughts on his mind he found himself a spot in the shade of a big scalebark to contemplate what they should do. He watched several needle-beaks fencing in the branches overhead, wings a-blur and ruby feathers flashing. Their battles mimicked his own conflict: a pointless feud over personal space. He and Sarai simply wanted to be able to live together in peace, raise children and make a life of their own.
Bannor felt Sarai press her breasts against his back. Hugging him, she put her chin on his shoulder. “Are we feeling better, my One?” She nuzzled the curve of his neck. “I know we smell better.”
He pressed her hands. “Much improved.” He sighed. “How are you feeling?”
She curled around him like a cat, settled in his lap and put her arms around his neck. Sarai’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
Sarai felt warm and inviting, silvery hair spilling across his legs. She certainly looked fine. Bannor felt himself growing taut. He leaned to kiss her. Sarai pulled him down hard, mouth seeking his ravenously. She looped her legs around his back and cinched him down. She squirmed against him, nails digging into his skin. A sharp sting went through his lip and he tasted blood.
Startled, he pushed away, searching her slender face. Is this my Sarai? Eyes glowing, she licked the blood off her lips, smiled and undid the ties on his tunic.
A cold tingle shot through him. He caught her hands. “Sarai?”
“I need you, my One.” She pulled on him, more gently this time.
Her violet eyes swallowed him as they always did. Their bodies tangled. The elation of being with his lover again made all his problems vanish.
Despite the rapture, he couldn’t push the picture of Sarai savoring his blood out of his mind, the strange glee he’d seen in her eyes.
Wren had been right. Sarai did pay a price for the power.
Would he be willing to pay it along with her?
Bannor bolted upright. Sarai sat up next to him, silver hair mussed. The shadows of the trees had grown only a fraction longer. The thrum of a bow, the hiss and crack of arrows hitting home brought him to his feet, reverie forgotten. He pulled on his breeches, grabbed his sword and axe, cautioned Sarai, and then ran toward the sound.
He heard two more impacts and the sound of wood splintering.
He rushed to their camp in time to see Irodee letting fly with two more arrows. The shots hissed into the hearts of two targets drawn on trees about twenty paces apart.
The Myrmigyne spun and aimed at him. Wren appeared behind her, dagger readied.
“Whoa!” He held up his weapons. “I thought there was trouble.”
Irodee lowered the bow. “Only practicing. Sorry, not think would disturb you.”
Sarai appeared behind him, sheathing the dagger Wren had loaned her. Smoothing her hair and blouse, she put an arm around his waist. He found himself more conscious of her touch.
Sarai glanced at the targets. “Good shooting, Irodee.”
The Myrmigyne nodded.
Six arrows jutted from the two trees. All the shafts were clustered in a pattern less than a hand-width across. Wren gestured to Bannor and went back to her place seated on a log next to her pack. Scratches in the dirt formed a rough map at her feet. Obviously she’d been considering their plight. “What were you starting to say, Irodee?”
The Myrmigyne shot twice more. The arrows quivered next to the others. “Irodee saying she misses Marta. Wants to see Laramis.”
“You have a daughter?” Sarai asked.
Irodee nodded. “She’s five summers now.”
Wren looked up from her drawing. “Five—and she’s already taller than me.”
The Myrmigyne looked at Sarai and grinned. “Marta calls Wren, Pico-kana—Little sister.”
Sarai squeezed Bannor. “We were thinking about children after we’re joined.” She looked at him eyes gleaming. “I think we’ll make beautiful babies.” She broke away to stand by Irodee and look at the targets. “I bet Marta is a nice girl. Her mother is tough, but I can tell she’s a good person.”
Irodee looked down at Sarai, apparently not knowing how to respond. “Grata.”
Sarai smiled. “Can I try?” She held her hand out for the bow. The Myrmigyne frowned. The huge weapon looked impossible for Sarai to pull. Irodee shrugged and handed it over.
“Taija,” she said softly, caressing the smooth wood. Brushing her hair back, she accepted two arrows from Irodee. She put one in her teeth and nocked the other.
Bannor barely saw her move. He only heard the thrum of the bow and the smack of impacts. Both shots vibrated in the exact center of the chalk circle.
Irodee bowed to Sarai. The elf bowed back.
Wren raised an eyebrow and looked at Bannor.
“She crafts bows for the Silcanna elves,” Bannor explained. He walked over and examined Wren’s drawing. She’d sketched the flats, detailing the high ground and stands of trees. Sheer valley walls bordered most of the northern and western extents of the area. Broken hills rose into mountains that hemmed in the land to the south. The only easy travel seemed to be back the way they’d come.
Sheathing his sword, he sat beside her. “I see you didn’t relax.”
Wren shook her head. “It’s my job to worry.”
Bannor sighed. Irodee and Sarai took turns shooting the bow, involved in some discussion about children. It seemed months since he’d reflected on their plans for a family. Life’s trivial details dissolved when faced by a danger like that posed by the avatars.
“I notice Irodee doesn’t worry.”
Wren ran a hand through her hair, fingers gripping the strands. He saw doubt in her blue eyes and heard the tremor in her voice. “My friend trusts me too much. We spent my last teleport scroll getting to Sarai. We needed it to esc
ape before things got this tight.”
“Is there something I should know?”
Wren nodded and pointed south to a rise a half-league away. “Watch that hill.”
He did. After a few moments he saw a glint, sunlight reflecting off glass or steel. His chest tightened as he noticed other flashes on adjacent hilltops. “You think they know where we are?”
“Not precisely, but there aren’t many spots in the flats where we could be hiding.” She shrugged. “If they’d come in after us, getting away would be easy. Rankorhaaz will form a blockade instead.”
Bannor frowned. “I saw a hundred orcs, no more. He can’t cut off the entire southern access to these flats.”
“Those are rough hills. Orcs have phenomenal endurance. In that terrain they could run us down. The river valley is a death trap. To keep us penned, Rankorhaaz only needs to guard a few trails and have lookouts keep us from slipping between. Meanwhile, he’ll get help to flush us out.”
Bannor groaned.
“Trust me, it could be worse.”
“Oh? How?”
“We could have camped on the canyon rim and he’d have us trapped in that valley. We crossed before he stationed the orcs on the south rim. I bet he split the tribe. Half went after Sarai and the rest has been stationed here to head me off in case I got to her before he did.”
“I don’t understand. How did they even know about Sarai?”
Wren smiled. “They thought she was the savant. I confused their communications, their times were wrong, targets, trails, everything. Otherwise, Rankorhaaz would have caught her early on. If they hadn’t delayed me up North, I’d have reached you before anything happened.”
He stemmed the urge to bristle at Wren for risking their lives. She worked the way a general did, executing moves to get the advantage.
“I take it they want you, too?”
“For over two decades.” She took a handful of dirt and let the particles trickle through her fingers. “They’ve come close. Each time I help a savant, I give them another opportunity. It’s happened often enough that they keep extra minions ready in case I get involved.”
“You sound proud of it.”
“Damn proud. I enjoy frustrating those—” She stopped, apparently unable to find words strong enough. “I told you. Soon, they’ll pay for all the misery they’ve caused.”
With my help you mean. If you can get us out of here alive.
He looked at Sarai. She and the huge Myrmigyne stood near the trees removing the arrows. They talked as if they’d known each other for tendays. Funny how things as simple as a bow or an interest in children could bring people together.
She glanced at him and smiled. She kissed her hand and made a tossing gesture. He grinned and responded in kind. His throat felt tight. One moment she seemed so alien, the next the tender being he adored.
Wren patted him on the shoulder, looking on. “She’s a special lady.”
“I love her a lot.”
“It shows.” Wren smiled. “She’s handled the power much better than I thought. Maybe she’ll be okay.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Wren’s face turned serious. “What?”
“Sometimes she seems—different—” The thought made his stomach knot. “Like a stranger is looking out of her eyes.”
It took a moment for her to respond. “Power tends to make someone more assertive. This is a desperate situation. She may be putting on another face to deal with it.”
They stared at each other. He broke the silence. “I hope you’re right.”
Wren didn’t meet his eyes. “What else could it be?”
For once, Bannor felt grateful for Wren’s indirection. The thought of some other creature inhabiting the body of his mate made him feel icy inside.
He changed the subject. “Don’t you have any allies that might come and help us?”
“Several.” Wren shook her head. “But they all went to a tournament.”
“Tournament?” He snorted. “Couldn’t we contact them astrally?”
“Not when they’re on another plane of existence. The all-worlds tournament is held in Asgard. They won’t be back for another week.”
Bannor swallowed. “Asgard? You mean like Odin’s Asgard?”
“Yes, as in the Aesir, the Ajeer, and the Valkurum. My mother is the daughter of Idun.”
He studied Wren to see if she might be joking. She appeared serious. “You’re descended from an immortal?” She looked down at herself. “Doesn’t show, does it? You’d think with a family tree like that I’d be taller!”
“Irodee thinks is because Wren is long on brains instead.”
Wren grinned at the Myrmigyne as she and Sarai came and sat down beside them.
Sarai patted Bannor’s knee. “We thought we’d let you two figure out how to leave this place.” She glanced toward the mountains. The expression on her face said she and the Irodee had been discussing the telltale flashes on the hilltops. “It looked like you were having troubles.”
“Some,” he admitted. “These flats are a defensible position, but we only have a few ways out.”
“We need a distraction,” Sarai said. “Something to draw them away from the way we want to go.”
“No.” Wren pointed at her. “We just got you back. We won’t risk losing you again.”
The Myrmigyne took a pebble and threw it into the trees. “Irodee sometimes wishes she were a bird. Not have problems like this.”
Bird. A bell rang in Bannor’s mind.
“We’re not,” Wren said. “If we had Mom’s carpet that would be—”
“That’s it!” he burst out.
They looked at him.
“We’ll fly out. It’ll be tough, but I think between us we can do it.”
Wren narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Bannor looked at Sarai and she smiled back sharing his secret. He felt it unlikely his betrothed would ever forget her flight off the mountainside.
“Tonight we make like birds.”
* * *
As mentioned elsewhere I have determined that love is an abstraction. Lust is another thing altogether. It is quantifiable quality, and a dependable handle that can be used to control all manner of creatures. In my travails, I have found few creatures that do not experience it to some degree. I must confess I have succumbed to its pull more than once. Hedonism is indeed my greatest weakness, but no one has ever lived long enough to take advantage of it.
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’.
Chapter Ten
« ^ »
Sitting on the log in the clearing, Wren grabbed hold to keep from falling over. “We’re going to what!?” From the savant’s expression, Bannor guessed she thought he’d gone crazy.
He squeezed Sarai who grinned. “I said that we’d make like birds.”
As if to emphasize his point, two tiny needlebeaks whizzed through the clearing chasing one another. Irodee folded her arms, her gaze lingering where the birds vanished into the branches. “Bannor means we fly?”
“What else would I mean?” He glanced southward. Glints off orcish armor continued to wink on the hilltops. It reinforced the importance of finding a means of escape.
Sarai rubbed her hands. “I think it’s a wonderful idea!”
“I don’t.” Wren’s jaw set. “Precisely how are we going to fly?”
Bannor saw her steely fixation. The thought of flight obviously terrified her.
He wouldn’t let that ruin his plan. “Our astral bodies. I carried Sarai off the mountain in my astral form. Together we could carry her and Irodee across the valley. That would give us a big lead on those orcs.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Brilliant, Bannor. How do we get across then? Our bodies are stuck here!”
Bannor ignored the sarcasm. “All we need is a hundred paces of rope. We can run south as visible astral projections and get the orcs to chase us. When they’re lured away, we retu
rn to our bodies and go to the western rim. We rappel down the cliff, cross the river, and then one of us carries the rope to Irodee and Sarai so they can pull us up.”
“Yes!” Sarai clapped. “That is good.”
The hardness left Wren’s features. “Okay, it’s not as bad as I thought. You lifted Sarai?”
Sarai squeezed his shoulder. “We flew-not well, but you could make it work.”
“Where we get two hundred paces of rope?” Irodee surveyed the West as if she could see the chasm. “The only river ford west of here is at Tarmin’s Bend. Walls very high there.”
“Could you go astrally for some?” Sarai asked.
Wren shook her head. “Not with Rankorhaaz watching us.” She paced in the rocky clearing. “We need something that can serve as rope.”
Irodee scanned the trees. “In jungle, we use vines.”
“Something strong and supple,” Wren said, crossing the clearing a few more times. She stopped by Irodee and ran a hand through the Myrmigyne’s waist length tresses.
Irodee snatched her hair away. “Irodee not have enough hair to make rope!”
Wren’s expression brightened. “Not yet, you mean.”
***
Bannor probed the dirt for the Traba roots Wren said would be found here near the hot spring. Nobody could wheedle the savant into divulging what she meant by her cryptic statement. She only told them that she now knew how to create a rope, and she needed certain roots and other elements for an alchemical potion to make it.
Wren’s silence terrified Irodee. While they prepared to go after the ingredients, the Myrmigyne mumbled about losing her hair. Apparently, she had lost her hair in a fiery mishap in another adventure. Bannor guessed from Irodee’s tone that she had never entirely forgiven Wren for the accident.
Bannor furrowed the dirt, enjoying the feel of moist humus between his fingers. At the cabin he shared with Sarai, he enjoyed tending a large vegetable garden. The work always gave him a sense of peace.
Searching for the Traba vine tubers was turning out much like the rest of his recent experiences: lots of digging and little discovery. He’d been at this for half of a bell with no luck.
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