“Is this what you live on, Ortok?”
“Yes. These and the nuts. There are other plants, too.” Ortok suggested the distant cliff wall with an encompassing arm sweep. “The bugs are not nice to eat. There are no animals, and sometimes I miss the taste of flesh, and the sensation of blood running through my teeth, but I am pledged to guard.”
“Why?” Elenai lifted a small handful of berries to her lips and began to chew, savoring each bite.
“I do not know. I have always preferred meat. Yet the berries are good.”
She swallowed. Kobalin, it seemed, were difficult to talk with. “I mean, why are you here guarding?”
“Eh, N’lahr didn’t tell you?” Ortok touched a branch with delicate care, then shook it with vigor. Red-and-gold berries rained to the ground, and the kobalin immediately dropped to the grasses on all fours. He spoke as he rooted around and popped them into his mouth. “N’lahr asked me to serve Kalandra, and I owe him my life. Then she asked me to guard this place. Here, shake that branch.” He pointed and cupped two clawed hands. His palms were padded, like the paws of a dog.
Elenai chose the limb he indicated and set it swaying back and forth. Dozens of berries dropped into his grasp. Ortok quickly shoved them into his mouth and devoured them with lip-smacking pleasure.
She watched for a moment, smiling inwardly. What a contrast to the torments and troubles beyond this sheltered zone. Her heart ached, and she found herself angry at Kalandra for putting them all through this, for diverting them, for failing to be where she was needed, for hurting Kyrkenall. What more was N’lahr finding out from her image? Would anything she said help? For that matter, was there anything that Elenai could say to Kyrkenall that would help?
She tried speaking to the kobalin in the manner he seemed to prefer: direct, and slightly formal. “How did you come to be indebted to N’lahr?”
“Ah!” Ortok’s chin thrust out and his eyes gleamed. He licked red berry juice from the pad of his right hand, then climbed to his feet and smote his chest. “I, Ortok, will tell you. It happened on a day when N’lahr had gone hunting Naor.”
Elenai knew very well that N’lahr didn’t “hunt” Naor, so the statement puzzled her. Had the commander been on patrol?
Ortok continued. “He came upon a number who were hunting me! It was a brave battle with much slashing and crushing. He and I, we fought the Naor as one! The blood flowed. He was mighty.” Ortok lifted his hands together as though he wielded an axe. “Back to back we faced them until all were food for worms!” He laughed, that black-furred face with its dark nose bright with delight. “I wanted to challenge him then and there, but I owed him my life. Some day, when N’lahr declares my debt repaid, we will duel, he and I.”
She couldn’t help staring. He was just as mad as the other kobalin. “Do you think you’ll win?”
“Only the Gods can say,” Ortok admitted. “But it will be a glorious death for one of us, and a mighty memory for the other.”
“Why don’t you both just live, and be friends?”
He stared at her, then laughed. “You Altenerai are so strange.”
She had nothing to say to that, so she ate another handful of berries. Ortok’s mention of Gods had her reflecting again that Kalandra’s memory had said something about “the people they’d thought were gods.” She’d seemed to imply the Gods weren’t gods but ordinary men and women, except that made no sense. If they were just mortals, where had they come from? Wouldn’t someone have to have created them? She shook her head, unwilling to accept the information as truth without further verification.
Now wasn’t the time for such musings, in any case. She could imagine what Alten Asrahn would have said if he were with her. Focus on the task at hand. The Gods and their origins were all very interesting, but their nature didn’t have much impact upon her present. More important was what she and the others did next. Mazakan had sent a Naor army against Arappa. They could be at the gates of Vedessus right now. They had to be stopped.
She had trusted N’lahr’s assurances that they needed to seek Kalandra, whereupon all would be well. But Kalandra was long since vanished, and the memory she’d left in her place merely left them with more questions. It might be fine for N’lahr to dig for information about lost Kalandra and the hearthstones, but that didn’t help them with the pressing matter of the Naor invading her homeland to rape and murder. They needed to plan how to stop them. If they could.
She needed to talk to the others. N’lahr was still busy, so that left Kyrkenall. Though the interior of this refuge was a mile in diameter, at best, it was uneven and studded with little groves of plants and trees. Somewhere the archer was hiding among them, unless he’d left. Surely he wouldn’t have done that.
Ortok broke into her musings. “Speak to me, Elenai Oddsbreaker. Walk with me. I shall take you to the most delicious of the nuts.”
She smiled at mention of the nickname N’lahr had awarded her.
The kobalin started forward on broad feet. She’d noted before that his tread barely rippled the grass, and she marveled again at how fluid the movements of so ungainly a creature were.
She fell in step with him and they passed where the horses grazed. Kyrkenall’s mount looked up at her and cocked her ears, curious. The little archer had to be somewhere close.
“How did you win the ring?” Ortok asked, his voice rich and low. “Surely it is a brave story.”
It occurred to her that the kobalin might only have been treating her equitably because he assumed she was Altenerai. She’d heard once that kobalin lords considered squires unworthy of notice. If she admitted her true status, would she immediately face hostility? She watched the play of muscle beneath Ortok’s fur as his huge arms swung. She’d be hard-pressed to stop him if he grew aggressive.
“It’s best if N’lahr or Kyrkenall told that story,” she answered.
“Ho! Aren’t you proud of it?”
She did her best to speak the truth without revealing her true circumstance. “I was only recently given the ring,” she said. “I helped defend Kyrkenall from an ambush.”
“Were there many foes?” he asked eagerly.
“There were four, but two were mages.” Elenai warmed to the topic. “Kyrkenall was trapped by a spell, and the woman and her friend were ready to kill him.”
“And then you leapt upon them?” Ortok suggested.
She didn’t want to explain about the hearthstone battle, so she merely nodded affirmation. “Something like that.”
Ortok’s next question was lost to her, because she’d grown conscious of a scraping noise. Something was hacking at wood in the copse of birch ahead of them.
Elenai tensed. “Is there anyone else here?”
“Only the four of us.”
“Are there any other ways in?”
“There is only the one. But there is no need for worry. Kalandra’s voice alerts me when more come. That sound is only Kyrkenall. He is making arrows.”
That made perfect sense, once her tired eyes had followed the furred, pointing finger and resolved the hunched shape in the midst of white trunks into the familiar outline of Kyrkenall. By unspoken agreement they diverted toward him. Hopefully he’d had enough time to himself.
The archer was pruning a pile of slim branches. His eerie black eyes flicked up to them as he brought his long, sharp knife down along the bark of a slender limb to pare off a nub.
“Ortok,” Elenai said, “can you go collect some of those nuts? I want to talk to Kyrkenall alone for a few moments. We can share some wine when you get back.”
“That would be most fine. It is long since I tasted something new. I will return.” Ortok strode away.
Kyrkenall turned the limb, working deftly to strip the bark. “Where’s N’lahr?”
“He’s still talking to the image of Kalandra. He thinks that the Naor are marching on Arappa. And probably Vedessus.”
“Most like.”
She blinked in astonishment. “You knew?
Neither of you said anything?”
“I guess we thought it was obvious.” He paused for only a moment, his gaze faintly contemptuous, then looked back down at his work.
She ignored his unexpectedly rude manner. “Why didn’t we divert then and there?”
“N’lahr was leading, not me. He said we were close to her.”
Why was he being evasive? “You wanted to go find Kalandra anyway, didn’t you?”
“Three Altenerai are better than two. Especially these three.”
For the briefest moment, her weary brain thought he complimented her. Then she realized he referred to himself, N’lahr, and Kalandra. She was increasingly irritated at the sound of that woman’s name.
Kyrkenall continued: “But it turns out she’s not really here. So I’m going to find her.”
Was he losing his mind? “How?”
“Her spirit thing said she was heading for the shifts near Ekhem. It’s the best lead I’ve had in years. I’ll start there.”
“All by yourself?”
“I might as well be by myself.” He indicated the distant building with an angry jab. “It’s not as if he shares anything anyway, is it?”
“That’s why you’re angry?” Not that Naor were invading? Not that they’d risked everything to seek a woman who’d long since left?
“I’m not angry. I’m happy.”
“You don’t look happy.”
He paused in his work and glanced up at her. “To be clear, I’m angry with N’lahr. But I’m happy to have an idea where Kalandra is.”
“Do you really think she’s still there?”
“I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”
“You can’t survive the storms in the deeps without a weaver. Not even your ring can protect against the worst of them.”
“Then come with me.”
She shook her head. He shrugged, then returned to working his knife along the stick. “I’ll manage on my own. I always have.”
“Like you managed at N’lahr’s tomb? Like you would have managed at the Chasm Tower?” She spoke on, emboldened by his blindness to his own fallibility. Why couldn’t he see? “You can’t go alone!”
Ever so slowly, he looked up and met her eyes. “She may be alive. Maybe she’s like Belahn, caught up in hearthstone magics. Maybe she’s imprisoned. Maybe she’s lost. Every moment could count, couldn’t it?”
“That’s right. Every moment could count. We have to put the people we’re sworn to protect before ourselves and our friends in uniform. You know that.” She saw Kyrkenall’s jaw tighten, and decided on a different angle of attack. “I’m sorry that she wasn’t here. Especially given—” Elenai’s hand fluttered uselessly as her words failed her. “Especially because I didn’t realize how close you two were.”
His mouth turned further down at that. He rotated his half-trimmed branch.
“But if Kalandra’s alive, she’s managed to stay that way all this time without us. And if she isn’t, it doesn’t matter. Our duty to the realms comes first. She’d understand that. We have to get to Vedessus.”
He looked up. “Saving Vedessus doesn’t have anything to do with the fact your family lives there, does it? I don’t hear you worrying about Arappa’s outlying villages.”
The truth of that point stung a little.
“You do realize that by the time we get to Vedessus the Altenerai chasing us will have told every Arappan they find that the three of us are criminals or traitors or murderers or whatever it is they think we are, thanks to Denaven.”
She hadn’t actually thought about that. Her mouth was suddenly dry. What would her family and friends say to those falsehoods? Would they believe them? Even if they didn’t—and she couldn’t possibly imagine that her father and sister would be convinced she was a traitor—they’d be distraught with worry.
He laughed without humor. “We’d be fighting our own people and the Naor.”
She steeled herself. “We’ll have to convince them. We have to convince the rest of the Altenerai anyway. That doesn’t change anything. None of this will be easy.”
Ortok arrived with a large woven basket heaped with little black-topped nuts. “If you wish to share the wine now, I have food.” He lifted the basket in proof.
Kyrkenall stared daggers at the big kobalin.
Elenai pulled the winesac from her belt and passed it over. “There’s not much, but it’s yours.”
Ortok made a pleased noise as he grasped it. He smiled at her. “I have not had wine in a long span of nights.”
“Fine,” Kyrkenall barked. “Go drink it somewhere else.”
“If that is what you both wish.”
Elenai didn’t really wish that. With Kyrkenall in such a difficult mood she would have preferred Ortok’s bluntly honest company. Still, right now she needed to talk to Kyrkenall privately. “We’ll share food later. Have as much of the wine as you like.”
Ortok showed that immense display of teeth as he smiled even wider. “I thank you for this gift, Elenai Oddsbreaker.” He walked away, warbling a strange melody in time with his stride.
Kyrkenall shook his head, then his eyes sought hers. The interruption seemed to have gentled him. “There’s no winning this one, Squire. Sometimes you have to admit defeat.”
She wanted to shout him down, but her counterarguments felt too weak. How could she win him over when she had no idea how they could win in Arappa?
“If you want to do something useful,” he said in a more kindly tone, “some of the Altenerai weavers have a trick. They learned it from Rialla. And I figured, with the hearthstones, you might manage it.”
She could muster only mild curiosity, for she struggled still for a means to change his mind. And to reassure herself that he was wrong. Besides, Kalandra’s warning against the hearthstones gave her pause. “What’s the trick?”
“You know how long it takes to cure arrows. Well, a skilled mage can accelerate the process. Dry them out. Straighten them. Harden them. All that.”
She nodded. Manipulating something like a branch would be very different from shaping structure in the Shifting Lands, but she supposed the process was similar. Maybe she could even try it without the hearthstone. “I’d need some rest first.”
“Well sure, but we can’t take too much time.”
“And I can’t extend a whole lot of energy because we have a long ride to Arappa.”
His voice rose in exasperation. “We’re not going to Arappa!”
“Yes. We are,” came a calm, familiar voice. N’lahr rounded the copse of trees. Elenai had forgotten just how exhausted he looked.
Kyrkenall set his work aside and climbed to his feet. “So! Friend to kobalin! Come to favor us with more mysterious half-truths?”
N’lahr halted a few paces off. He nodded to Elenai, but faced Kyrkenall. “What Kalandra said must have been hard for you.”
“The hard part was learning just how little you both trusted me. Why didn’t you tell me you were worried about the hearthstones—”
“I did.”
“—and that you were sending Kalandra out to find more about them? You told Ortok. A kobalin. But not me! Who else did you tell?”
“No one.”
Kyrkenall’s voice was sure and sharp as a well-honed knife, and soft as a thrust from behind. “She was here when I first started looking. If you’d told me, I could have found her! Do you understand? It’s your fault she’s alone.”
N’lahr’s eyes shut, and it was perfectly obvious to Elenai that he’d long since understood that.
Ortok returned and stood watching quietly for a moment, then pointed to the commander. “Why are his eyes closed?”
Kyrkenall answered. “He’s thinking about how much he’s screwed up.”
When the commander opened his eyes and spoke it was with weary patience. “She left only a few hours after the battle, remember? You were drinking deep with the survivors. There was no chance to talk about something like this. And then late that evening I �
��died of my wounds.’ I didn’t plan to exclude you. It was poor timing. And what you said earlier was right. I didn’t anticipate what might come if I were suddenly taken out. Any more than you do.”
Kyrkenall scowled and averted his eyes
“You do not seem dead,” Ortok observed quizzically.
Kyrkenall indicated the kobalin with a jab of his hand. “You might have at least mentioned you’d made friends with a kobalin lord. Why’d you send him instead of me?”
“With the war resolved, Kalandra was determined to get answers. Immediately. You know how she was. You were in your cups. But Ortok was free, and he owed me a debt of honor. I thought you might ride after. But I never got to tell you.”
Elenai found herself reflecting how different things might have been if Kalandra had been just a little more patient. Maybe that would have made everything better. Or maybe Kyrkenall would have gotten lost with her, and N’lahr would still be trapped.
Kyrkenall let out a long, quavering breath. “Did her ghost have anything else to say?”
“It’s not a ghost,” N’lahr answered his friend. “Kalandra believes the hearthstones are innately tied to the stability of the various realms, fragments, and splinters. She suggests the storms have strengthened and the borders weakened because they’ve been removed to Darassus.”
Kyrkenall swore. “Figures. So do we have to put them back, now?”
“Probably. If I had time to think of more questions, I suspect her image might share further conclusions. But we have to concentrate on the situation in Arappa. If we survive that, we can go after Kalandra.” His mouth was tight. “I want to find her, too,” he said slowly. “But we can’t. She’d understand why.”
Kyrkenall frowned again. “Don’t you think the rest of the Altenerai are going to manage things? Tretton and Decrin know how to handle a siege. They have to have figured out what’s going on with the Naor.”
“I think that they’ll act as best as they can. But Mazakan’s had years to develop a way around our walls. We have to surprise him.”
“With what?” Kyrkenall said. “All three of us? We might surprise him, but we won’t impress him.”
For the Killing of Kings Page 33