Her ankle twisted. Only her grip on the horse kept her from falling. Pain bloomed in her ankle and fire shot down her leg from her thigh. It was no use. She’d have to stop. She’d hoped the brook would intersect with the path, but no luck. Her stomach ached, and the scent of blood was sure to draw any predator around. “Let’s find the water and clean up.” They veered off the path into the forest. Bracken and fern tore at her legs, but the way wasn’t much harder going than the path had been. The sound of water grew louder.
Stars gleamed across a narrow ribbon of silver weaving through the trees. Ilythra dropped her bags, sat at the edge and scooted into the icy water. The water clouded as it ebbed around her waist and tickled her ribs. The cold stung, then numbed the worst of the pain away. She found a submerged rock near the edge of the stream and lifted her body partially out of the water to expose her leg. She tore open the leggings. The gash was open and still bleeding. It would have to be sewn closed. Damn.
She rummaged in her pack and found a bone needle and string. By the light of the moon, she cleaned the wound and then sewed it closed. She gritted her teeth to keep from passing out. It was a jagged, ugly job, but it would slow the bleeding. When she was done, she leaned against the stream’s bank, fighting nausea. With effort, she braced herself with her hands and lifted her body back onto the bank. Her shoulder protested the action and her stomach lurched. If she’d had anything in her stomach, she’d have lost it. Ilythra lay her head down on the muddy bank of the river, breathing in the musty smell of the damp forest floor. Was it time to give up? Would the Rugians take her back to Bredych? There wasn’t anything he could do to her. She was a stone keeper. But she knew that wasn’t true. The memory of his voice wove through her mind, promising her safety, power. They were of like kind.
She knew it wasn’t really Bredych, but anger surged through her body, giving her the energy to sit. They were not alike.
She smeared a paste that smelled strongly of garlic over the gash and wrapped it. Maybe the smell would detract some of the predators. It was all she could do to drag herself against a tree. Melior nibbled at her hair. She reached up to comfort the stallion but exhaustion claimed her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dappled sunshine broke through the canopy of trees. The flickering light made her dizzy. There was nowhere stable to rest her gaze. Panic sped her heartbeat. She moved to stand and collapsed. Pain darkened her vision. With more care, she stood and fought a wave of vertigo. She’d slept whatever had remained of the night and into the day. If the Rugians hadn’t started down the path in the dark, they’d be on it now. She needed to leave. She scanned the forest—where was Melior?
A twig snapped to her left. She drew her sword. A familiar whinny calmed her racing heart. Melior neared, twigs and leaves sticking out of his mane and tail. “Come here, boy.” She examined his wound. It was crusted over. The skin wasn’t hot and he didn’t flinch when she touched it. “You’ll have a nice scar to impress the mares with now.”
Ilythra hobbled to the water, drank deeply and filled her water skin. “Let’s go.” She limped back to the path. Fern and sorrel crowded the trail, and the tree branches arched over, creating a green tunnel. Ilythra pulled herself onto Melior’s back with effort. “Let’s get some distance and then maybe find some food.”
If the horse understood, he didn’t say anything but headed down the trail at a gentle trot. She knew somewhere behind them, the Rugians were still on their trail.
* * *
Ilythra’s senses strained for sounds in the surrounding forest. The sun shone down through the trees. It all seemed very peaceful but the feeling of being tracked returned in force. The Rugians were getting closer again. It had taken her almost a day to get down and a day to cross the river and climb up. They couldn’t have done it quicker. Unless they left their horses.
She groaned at the traitorous thought. They would catch up. It was only a matter of time. The Siobani, if this was indeed Siobani land and they were still here, could live days farther north. She couldn’t elude the Rugians much longer. The odds of confronting them and surviving were pretty small, but they didn’t increase the longer she ran. If anything, they grew slimmer. She was weakening. It was time to make a stand while she still could.
She scanned the landscape. If she just stopped, they’d catch up, but at least she’d be able to rest first. Melior tensed. A fat bear lumbered across the path, stopping long enough to swing its shaggy head in their direction and stare dumbly before disappearing into the forest. She dismounted and found the trail the bear had left before it crossed the road. She discovered a heavily trampled berry patch with plenty of fruit still attached to the vine. She ate a handful. Flavor exploded on her tongue and her stomach rumbled to life. It was all she could do not to gorge herself. She offered Melior a few in an open palm. The horse picked at them with sensitive lips.
Ilythra filled her pack with the fruit. The score of additional scratches on her arms and legs were well worth it. Her stomach ached with the unaccustomed nourishment. She popped a few more purple berries in her mouth and returned to the trail. The fruit was good, but she needed meat. The path curved toward the west ahead and then was almost lost in fern. It wasn’t used often, that was certain. What if the Siobani were still far away? Days. Weeks? Even without the Rugians on the road after her, she wasn’t in any condition to journey far.
She attempted a deep breath. One thing at a time.
Leaving Melior on the path, she hobbled into the forest until she reached a large pine. The tree had stolen the light from other, smaller vegetation, leaving the ground bare. A brook bubbled nearby. It was as good a place as any. She cut off a few branches with her knife and fashioned a shelter. From her position, she couldn’t quite see the road but could hear Melior.
She led the horse into the clearing and removed his packs and bridle. Melior shook his head.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” She scratched the base of his neck where it curved into his withers and then retrieved some string from her bag and searched the forest floor for the right-sized stick. Wind whispered through the trees and in the distance a deer walked on delicate legs through the fern, its ears rotated, alert for danger, before it bounded into the dusky forest’s twilight. Melior wandered to the brook.
Ilythra ate a few more berries. Her mouth watered at the thought of meat. How long had it been? She moved a distance from the camp and assembled her trap. Hopefully not all of the forest creatures had already filled themselves on the berries.
* * *
The gathered kindling sat in the shallow she’d dug. She’d wait to light it but she could almost feel the fire’s warmth. Cold bit at her face and chapped her hands, making her clumsy. Ilythra carefully skinned and cleaned the rabbit. Mohan would have groaned if he’d seen her spit the carcass without seasoning it, but she didn’t care. Lack of seasoning was the least of her worries. Her mouth watered.
With care, she kindled a flame and nursed it to health, then placed the rabbit well above the hungry flames. Through a break in the trees, mountains stood tall against the blue sky to the north. The Siobani couldn’t be too far, unless they were on the other side of the mountains. She didn’t want to examine that possibility too closely. To the south, her trackers approached. The smoke from her fire would be a beacon. But she’d counted on it.
She would eat, rest and regain some of her strength and then she would face her fate. Melior whinnied gently next to her. “I’m not running anymore, boy. They’re not going to give up, and such persistence should be rewarded. Let’s give them what they’re looking for.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ulger froze when he saw a woman blocking the path ahead. Legs apart and a sword in her hand, she was a picture of defiance. It is Thira. His blood turned cold. But no, he’d never believed in the ancient gods. He wouldn’t start now. There was only one man he feared an
d he would not return without accomplishing his mission. He knew from experience that should he fail, there was nowhere to hide. This was the woman they tracked. The one his master wanted. The reason they were in this godsforsaken land.
When he’d been given his task, he scoffed at the idea that a woman, any woman, would make it through the first of his patrols. He was to be the last line, the one she didn’t cross. And she had. Not only that, she’d led him and his men on a wild chase across the plains. Each of his men had had two horses. She had only one. He glanced at the animal, respect filling his breast. When he’d seen her on the other side of the chasm, he’d almost called off the hunt. Any woman with that much heart deserved to live. But it wasn’t his decision.
No matter, he had a task to do. He knew well what would happen to Gotzon, his brother and his second, should he fail. The woman didn’t say a word, just stared as they approached. Dread traveled his spine. She was waiting for them, apparently fearless. Thira. Could it be?
His men chuckled behind him. They were eager for blood.
“Go slow,” Ulger warned.
“She’s only one girl.” Sean sneered.
“One girl who could kill you. If Bredych says she dangerous, then she’s dangerous. You saw what she’s done so far.”
He could feel his men reassessing the situation. Good. He needed them to take this woman seriously. “You’re the chief.”
The comment grated on his nerves. He wasn’t. Somehow, he’d become a westerner’s lackey. “Take her alive,” he snapped.
“It’ll be my pleasure.” Ebon’s voice dripped perversion.
Ulger glared over his shoulder at his men. Bredych had been clear on the penalties for failing.
“You gentlemen have traveled quite some distance. Something I can do for you?” Her voice added to his unease: polite and uninterested, as if she were asking if he’d like butter on his bread.
Ulger blinked. He stared at her. She was wounded. He knew one of the spears had found flesh and her leg was bandaged. But how badly? She didn’t seem to favor it. “We’re gonna take you back to Greton. Lord Bredych says you’ve something belonging to him.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound gentle. But it did.
She blinked and then glanced toward the sky. Her gaze settled on him. Even then he had a feeling she was aware of each of his men. Her eyes were gray, like the sky before a storm. “Well, now that’s too bad. I’m not going back with you. I have nothing that belongs to Bredych. If he thinks otherwise, he can take the matter up with me himself.”
Swords leaving scabbards swished behind Ulger. He swallowed. This mission put a bad taste in his mouth. He was tempted to leave, find an island with good fishing. Disappear. Gotzon. “We’ve our orders.”
A smile touched her mouth but her eyes hardened to flint. Ulger shrugged off the feeling of unease mixed with shame. No matter the stories, she was one scrawny female. A wounded one at that. Not a goddess.
Ulger drew his sword and gave the word.
* * *
Ilythra stood on the path. Shadows pooled around her feet. Five of the men approached slowly. Their eyes lit with menace as they drew their weapons. The one who spoke—who she assumed was the leader—held back but drew his sword. Only six. At least one must have stayed back with the horses. Once again she heard the shriek of the spear-throwing Rugian falling to his death.
She swallowed. With these men, she didn’t dare show weakness. “Do you serve your gods well?”
Two of the men paused and looked at her nervously. The others smirked. The leader stared at her stoically. She glanced at Melior, who stood behind and to the side of her.
Adjusting her grip on her sword, she filled her lungs with air, ignoring the flare of pain, then exhaled slowly. Her body ached and her leg wouldn’t hold her full weight. She needed to make this quick or she wouldn’t make it at all.
Six. I can do this. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. She placed a hand over Ilydearta. A way where there is no way. Ilydearta used the keeper’s skills, intuition and knowledge in accordance with Teann to create balance. She hoped her skills and knowledge were up to the challenge, because if Ilydearta didn’t find a way to beat these Rugians, she was on her way back to Greton.
The Rugians neared. Every sense strained to its limit, she observed the men, waiting for the movement that would give away her first attacker. They spread across the path. The center three advanced as the others fell back. Ilythra recognized the ploy. The inside men would engage her, allowing the others to circle and surround. She let them take a few more steps then darted to the left, sword flashing in the sun. The surprised men backed into their companions, their weapons lax in their hands until they realized what was happening.
It was time to use everything her grandfather and Zeynel had ever taught her. Bringing her sword underneath, Ilythra disarmed one man then, twirling, slashed his throat. Without breaking stride, she cut down a second man. Ilythra ducked to avoid a careless slash and lunged, herding the men. The clash of steel echoed among silent trees.
The Rugians backed into one another. The leader cursed then yelled something in Rugian. Not waiting for the men to regroup and get organized, Ilythra stepped forward, slicing at the nearest opponent. He parried wildly. With her knife, she sliced ineffectively across another man’s abdomen. Spinning, silver flashing, her sword continued its steady rhythm as she kept the Rugian blades at bay.
Deflecting a blow, Ilythra saw the leader approach. She spun on her good leg, her blade a blur. Ilythra’s arms began to tire. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The weeks of running, her injuries, had taken their toll. Her lungs burned and sweat dripped down her face. Her sword never stilled its dance through the air but slowed.
She determined then she would die fighting. They would not take her back. At least she had brought the stone back to Siobani land. The other keeper had to know it was near. Maybe he’d find it before they took her body to Bredych.
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of dull metal raced toward her head. Ilythra pivoted. Her wounded leg buckled. She raised her sword in time to block the blow but shock traveled down her arm, numbing her hand as the mace made contact with the sword. Shit. She struggled to her feet, but fire pierced her thigh. She could feel the moisture bleeding through the bandage. She would take as many Rugians with her as she could. Twisting out of another attack, she sidestepped, slicing through the thick leather jerkin of another man with her knife. Blood sprayed her hand, darkening her sleeve. Her blade didn’t relent, but she was running out of time.
The leader swung the mace again, his countenance grim and determined.
“You can still leave,” Ilythra offered. She limped back a few paces, her gaze darting between the three remaining men.
The mace swung in gentle arcs as the leader approached. “There are worse fates than death.”
She lunged to the side to avoid the mace’s blow. Darkness danced around her vision as she hit the path. She tried for a deep breath but only inhaled in pain. Blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she threw the knife at her closest attacker. The dirt near her head exploded in fine mist of dust and rocks. The leader roared in rage. Her knife stuck out of his shoulder. He pulled it out and threw it to the ground. She retrieved the knife from her boot and rolled to the side. She moved to stand and her leg buckled again. If she didn’t get up, she was dead.
Melior reared, catching her attacker from behind. Her enemy crumpled to the ground. Melior brought his hooves down again and again until the man lay lifeless. The distraction gave her time to use the sword to push against the ground and surge to her feet. Her vision narrowed. A Rugian approached. Two left. Feinting to the left, Ilythra brought her sword up and out, drawing the enemy’s arms away from his body, then finished him with her knife. Her right arm lacked strength. She glanced down. Her sleeve was stained red. Twirling on her good leg, she faced he
r closest attacker. How many were left? Only one, right? Pain exploded in her side. She fell to the ground. She tried to take deep breaths but the air didn’t seem to reach her lungs. The world began to fade.
The leader held the mace in his hand, legs apart. Ilythra straightened, meeting his gaze. Pain darkened her vision as he approached. Ilythra gripped the sword but knew she couldn’t stand to meet his advance.
A swish sounded in the trees, followed by soft thuds. The Rugian leader froze before her. Their eyes met. His expression seemed puzzled before he crumpled, feathered shafts protruding from his back.
Ilythra stared at the fallen enemy in stunned disbelief. Fear replaced the shock. She examined the forest to find the new threat. She gripped the sword, but blood loosened her hold. Shadows separated from the surrounding woods. Melior moved closer.
The world wavered. Ilythra blinked to focus on the cloaked forms closing in. Strange sounds that might have been words filtered into her consciousness before the world went black.
Part Three
In his voice, Ilythra heard the music of the wind, the thunder in the mountains and the gentle patter of rain.
Chapter Twenty-Four
White light fluttered and a soft breeze danced across her skin. Something cool caressed her brow and then warm liquid touched her lips; Ilythra drank it greedily. Her limbs weighed too much. She began to sink into the softness beneath her. Where was she? It felt familiar. Soft speech drifted in and out of her consciousness. Ilythra tried to follow the cadence but the words made no sense. She drifted on velvet darkness. Cool hands touched her forehead again. A female.
Fighting the pull of sleep, she struggled to rise out of the shadows. A male answered the female. The rhythm and harmony of their tone lulled her into the embrace of unconsciousness. She fought it, blinking until her eyes obeyed her will and opened.
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