In the Caves of Exile Page 25

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  She stumbled through the woods in search of survivors, healed three more men of painful cuts, and another man of concussion from a thrown rock. There were four beyond her healing or anyone else's. The hunter's voice rang out suddenly from near the River: “I've found him, come quickly!”

  The Lord of Broad Heath lay face down in the sand and gravel of the bank. The handle of a broad-bladed throwing knife was barely visible against the black of his cloak; the blade was buried to the hilts high between his shoulders. The hunter squatted beside him.

  “I think he was breathing when I first touched him, but I don't know now. He's lost too much blood. I'm afraid to touch him at all.”

  She knelt, felt the fallen man with a light mind-touch. There was a faint, slow pulse, but it wouldn't be there long. She was at the edge of her strength. And there were the herds still. The man next to her radiated worry. She could sense his presence almost as clearly as she'd sense Nisana's—Nisana's. Gods and Mothers both. She glanced up to find anxious eyes studying her. Two to heal, one for the additional strength. It need not be an AEldra, the Mothers know I wasn't—her sudden jubilation faded into nothing. No, she hadn't been properly AEldra when she'd aided her mother. And Gors, ‘Betha's brother, had died.

  But Marckl had nothing to lose, as Gors hadn't had, if they tried. If this stubborn hunter would cooperate—"You spoke of blood-debt, not long ago. If you could repay it, now, would you?”

  He eyed her warily now. “How?”

  “An odd way. I intend to try to heal him, as I did you. But he's further gone than you were. I'm already worn, I doubt if there's enough in me to save him. But if you aid me, if I can draw on your strength and not only my own—will you?”

  He swallowed surprise, and something he would not call fear. “He's a good man. You need all your good men. What must I do?”

  No hesitation, though she'd expected that, if not argument. She held out a hand. He took it, rather cautiously.

  “Just be there. Keep hold of my hand, and let your other rest on his back, near the blade. If this works, you may feel yourself growing weak. I don't know. Don't let go my hand, don't take your hand from Marckl's back. And when I say, join that hand with my free one. I will clasp the knife. Do not resist, stay with me, follow my lead. If the blade is withdrawn too quickly, he'll bleed to death before I can do anything to save him.” Silence. They looked at each over the fallen Lord Holder. “You're certain.”

  “Yes. Go.”

  The Nasath give me strength—and him too!

  It was hard, worse than she had feared: Marckl's inner being was sunken into itself so far that it was reluctant to return to life; it flinched from pain and awareness of the knife, sullenly ignored her, avoided the healing. The nearness of death permeated him, sending bile to her mouth. She swallowed hard. Her legs were trembling, a shudder was threatening her entire body. The hunter made no sound, no move, though she was aware the strength she, used was not all hers; terribly aware in this AEldra bond of the latent Power in him.

  Don't die, Marckl, by all the Mothers at once, you can't die, Nedao needs you, I need you, Ifney needs you, your household needs you, you can't die!’ She was mumbling to herself, to him, trying to drag at him that way where the healing itself was failing short. Nothing. ‘Blast and damn you, man, you haven't finished that road yet!’ The mountain-hunter started, cast her an astonished look. He didn't hear that, what's the matter with him? Her concentration wavered, was pulled sharply back to the wounded Marckl: Suddenly, beyond hope, he drew one deep, shuddering breath and a faint agonized cry went out on it.

  “Now!” Her voice was a rough whisper, it was all she had left. Two hands moved slowly, surely and as she healed cut muscle, torn veins, erased damage and pain both, the knife came out. Marckl lay flat on his stomach, face turned toward her; he was breathing normally. She freed her hands, felt him cautiously, but that had been his only injury—and it was gone She caught the hunter's limp hand, gripped his shoulder as he swayed, and willed him back what strength she could spare.

  He stirred. There was a sick look to his eyes, a set to his mouth as though he'd held back retching by will alone, as she had. “Was that—was that what you did for me?”

  “No. Nothing so difficult, nothing so horrid. You were hurt, but not lost in the inner silences. You'd just lost blood. The Guardians grant I never need to do anything like that again.” She stared at him blankly. “You did feel it, didn't you?” Silence. “You felt that.”

  “I—I don't know.” He scowled at hands that still tended to tremble, clasped them under his knees. “You said I might feel weak when you used my strength.”

  “I didn't know. How could I know? I also said I hadn't done it before, didn't I?”

  “No,” he replied shortly. And, reluctantly: “It was—that was terrible. As though I were inside his body.” His gaze went through her; he was staring of a great distance indeed, speaking to himself. It was going cold and dark all around me. I never thought death would feel like that.” He shook himself. “I saw what you did, how his body healed when the knife came out.” He brought his hands out level, transferred his gaze to them. They still trembled, but not as much. “I saw that, I felt it. Unless my mind's going.” He smiled faintly. Shrugged. “Too many years in the Foessa, a man talks to himself. First step toward Foessa madness.”

  “You're not mad.”

  “Kind of you to say so.”

  “No kindness on my part. It's the truth. Not in what you felt.” She met his eyes briefly, looked away from that intense, close gaze. “I told you, the Foessa did strange things to one of us, coming north. She could hear AEldran mind-speech. For a time. She can't now, not much, but we've been among Nedaoans, protected from the—well, the odder parts of the mountains.”

  “Ah.” He shrugged. “Perhaps. If you came tonight because of my call, I suppose I can't call it impossible, can I?”

  “I—you did that? On purpose?”

  “Of course on purpose, what did you think? I was on my way up from those new docks, and I heard fighting. The men were badly outnumbered. With me alone and on foot, I didn't have much choice: I could leave ’em and run for aid, or die with ’em.” He shrugged, turned to stare out into the trees. “Thought I'd try the other way: the one you said worked.”

  “You—you pulled me from dinner with the Narran Embassy,” she said finally. She tugged the hems free of her belt and dropped them over her exposed leg.

  “Almost didn't recognize you, all woman-clad. Hadn't been for that fire of yours, maybe I wouldn't have at all.” He cast her a flash of teeth that was probably meant for a smile. “That's nice, I like it.”

  “Thank you.” The words threatened to stick in her throat; she wasn't certain what to think of him mannered. It made her wonder what he was up to; at least when he sneered and shouted, she knew what he was honestly thinking.

  “Didn't look very sensible out there.”

  “It wasn't. I could have used help, where I was.” Or couldn't you see that? Or were you having too much fun watching?

  He grinned. “Not likely I'd come up on anybody tossing fire about as casually as all that! Besides, you looked as though you could take care of yourself. There were some here who couldn't.”

  She laughed faintly. “Tell that to my Swordmaster. He'll have my head for this.”

  “No doubt, if he's still Marhan. Good man, but touchy.”

  “Mmm. Marhan. And he's gone touchier with age. Though I'd have to agree with him, this is nothing to fight in.”

  Silence. She stood, brushed dirt from her skirts, fidgeted with the sword-belt. He was spilling pebbles from his fingers, one at a time. More silence. She cleared her throat. “Have you seen the valley yet?”

  He threw the rest of the rocks; several cracked against trees. “From a distance, across the Aresada and higher up. You've civilized the poor old thing, haven't you? And in such a short time. But I like your City, it has good form. What building fresh does for them, I suppose
.”

  “Thank you. Is that why you're here, to look it over?”

  “Partially. I was curious. And I thought I might he able to catch one of those Narran boats down the sea. I've a stack of good pelts to get rid of, and there are things I need.”

  “Ah.” Ylia watched as he picked up another handful of pebbles, began tossing them into the brush. “There are Narrans all over the City just now, you know. They're absolutely panting for trade. You'd do at least as well here and save yourself the cost of passage. We could probably supply you as well as they could, if you're only after salt and meal and the like.”

  “Well—”

  ’”And Nedao could quite frankly use your coin.”

  He tilted back his head and laughed. “The woman bargains like a Narran! I'll come away poor!”

  “Not if you've been dealing in Nar,” She replied dryly.

  “Well.” He tossed the last of his pebbles, vaulted to his feet. “I'll think on it. Are you safe here? Fool question, you're safer than I am, coming and going like that. And your men are on their way back. I'd better grab what arrows I can and go now.”

  “What, before you're seen?” she laughed. But he stopped short, as though she'd struck a sore point, scowled at her.

  “Perhaps.” And, challengingly: “What cause to you?”

  “None, why? I don't care if you did murder wherever you came from. It's nothing to me so long as you don't attempt it again here and now. I don't really care why you're exiled at all. Is that good enough for you?”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled grudgingly. “Well, them A better night to you than you've had, thus far.”

  She held out a hand. “My thanks for your help.”

  He touched it with his own. “Mmmm.” He turned away, melted back into the trees.

  He was barely out of sight when she heard the horses coming back from the Aresada. She moved back into the middle of the road to wait for them.

  Erken's face was cut and scratched from riding through brush and his eyes were still hot as he dismounted and came to meet her. “We killed most, but a number escaped up-river. It was too hard for us to follow and we lost them.”

  “You did what you could,” she replied, no less stiffly. “The creatures are crafty beyond what we might expect, seeing them and knowing what they are. And they are not hampered by size and mounts.”

  Marhan slid from the saddle and stormed toward her. “By all the gods I ever heard of, look at you! Do you think yourself blade-proof? Where's your sense?”

  “Sense!” she laughed sourly. “If either of you dares mention sense! I warned you, I warned Malaeth, and still nothing would do but, that I dress for the Ambassador!”

  “No one sent you here,” Erken said flatly, “but your own stubborn self. Forgive my saying so, Lady, but it's truth.”

  “Black hells, Erken, it was my aid and Brel's that brought heart to Marckl's men, they would all have been dead before you reached him! Marckl would be dead, he was breathing his last when I found him!” Brelian, still afoot, slid past Erken's horse, stood beside her. “Brel, there's men scattered all over out there, the badly wounded are healed but there are still some to be tended. Marckl's near the river, right on the bank. He'll sleep a full day or more. Ten men dead, Erken. Ten men, Marhan. Because Brelian and I were here, they aren't all dead.”

  “Even so—” Marhan began furiously.

  “Even so?” she overrode him. “Will you both, now, free yourselves of this absolutely stupid notion that I do not intend to rule as my father did? I follow Nedao's way! The Narrans will simply have to adjust to my breeches and armor, as the people have. And by the Mothers, you had both better do the same!” She turned on her heel and walked off.

  “Where are you going?” Marhan was subdued, but not totally without words.

  She shouted over her shoulder, “Back to change, and then I'm bridging to the herds. They were attacked also; there are dead and wounded there!”

  “There's—what?" Erken shouted after her.

  “You heard me? We lost guards and sheep tonight. The Mathkkra came at us from both sides! Send men out there when you get back!”

  'You ought not to alienate him,’ Nisana commented over the distance as Ylia bridged back to the second-floor balcony.

  'Hah. He'd better quit pushing me, then, or he'll think alienated. I'll have the ears off the man! Is everything under control where you are, cat? I won't be long now.’

  'Not good, but all right. I'll wait.’

  Ylia slipped into her chambers without meeting anyone. Down the stairs, she could hear a muted murmur of voices: Malaeth and the rest of her women there, waiting for news. She undid the sword belt, unlaced the dress—with difficulty since the ties were between the shoulder blades and hard to reach alone and let it fall to the floor. She gazed at it a moment; made a face, picked it up and crossed to the open window, shook it vigorously. Dirt flew. It wasn't torn, but it would need a good wash, after this.

  The breeches and shirt were in the chest at the foot of the bed. She dressed quickly, pulled on her boots and strapped the dagger sheath to her calf, rebuckled the sword over all. It took a moment in the half-dark to find a leather tie for her hair; she ran her fingers through it to dislodge the few remaining pins, knotted the thong at the base of her neck.

  A riot of questions met her at the foot of the stair. “Marckl's men were attacked by Mathkkra, the creatures are gone, Marckl's alive. Erken will have the rest of the news for you shortly, he was on his way back here when I left. Menfred; bring Lord Corry out here, will you? Malaeth, don't fuss, please, I'm still whole and so's the dress. I hope the green's a good dye, though.”

  “The dress will wash and mend. You might not!” The old woman snapped in reply, and turned to start back up the stairs, taking the other women with her. It was suddenly, blessedly quiet in the hall, though she could hear the same kind of excited babble in the dining hall when Corlin slipped out.

  “Lady Ylia?”

  “Corlin, apologize to the Narrans, will you? I've just come from Marckl's road. Erken will tell you about that when he gets here. He's on his way. I'm going out to the herds. Mathkkra, both times.”

  “Two raids, across the valley, at the same time?” He frowned. “I don't like the sound of that.”

  “Nor I. Ten of Marckl's men are dead and two of Erken's out with the herds, plus three of the sheep. And Erken's in a filthy mood. There's wounded out there with the herds still, so I'm needed. If you would, get some more men out there, we'll need help getting the beasts in.”

  “All right. I'll tell Ber'Sordes where you are, and I can handle Erken.”

  “Good. I'm glad one of us can.”

  The wind was a summer one: low, light and warm, and the moon was down. Sheep bleated anxiously, cattle milled, and the herders and guards were keeping them all in a tight knot, lest they bolt again. Three Mathkkra lay face down on the hillside not far away: more beyond them. The two dead Nedaoans were nearer to hand, dark bundles under cloaks.

  Momentary panic when she came so suddenly into sight. ‘More trouble, cat?’

  'No. Everyone's nervous.’

  'Understandably.’ Aloud, she added, “I've come to aid the hurt, and there will be more armed here shortly. Lord Corry's sending help.”

  Nisana sat on Danila's lap, letting the girl stroke her fur. Nold sat next to the girl, a protective arm around her shoulders. Dahlia was no longer hysterical but there was a grim determination about her that sat oddly on a child of so few years. But she must have nearly twelve summers. When I was her age, I was ready to begin sword lessoning, and taking ill anyone who'd hold me from it. Not so odd after all, perhaps.

  Ylia moved among them, setting injuries right. Fortunately, considering how tired she was, there were none serious. Even with Nisana's help, she was still trembling with exhaustion when she finished. Nold stirred as Ylia came back to Danila, tried to struggle to his feet until she laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. He subsided gratefully, he looked as wo
rn as she felt. “Are you all right, Danila?”

  “It's been hard on her,” Nold said. Worry for and pride in the girl stood out all over him. “But she killed four herself. You have skill, Danna,” he added with a smile and an encouraging shake.

  The girl's small face remained grave. “I wish I had killed them all!” And, as Nold patted her shoulder awkwardly, “Don't do that! I wish I'd killed them all, because they killed sheep! Killed three and that—that thing carried off another!” Her eyes brimmed over; she sniffed. “I'm sorry, Lady!”

  “Don't be. You did better than some grown men.” But to Danila, this was obviously not enough.

  “Really, Danna,” Nold snapped, “the Lady never said to hold them with your own hands! Or to get yourself killed protecting them! The loss wasn't your fault, after all!” The girl scowled at him, and he rolled his eyes. “There's always herd loss, girl! Always has been! Wolves, eagles, poachers and sheep are stupid, don't you know that by now? One of my father's sheep fell into the pond, tripped and drowned in a puddle that wouldn't have covered its belly, standing! You can't keep such stupid things safe against everything!” He glared at her again. “Especially not those!” One hand shot out to indicate the Mathkkra. Danila's yellow-fletched arrows were still in two of them.

  “It's all right, Danna,” Ylia soothed. “And don't berate her, Nold. She takes the task seriously for one so young. That's praiseworthy.”

  “If sheep are so stupid,” Danila's voice went high and quavered, “then all the more reason to guard them close. We cannot afford to lose them as we once could.” She glared at the other herders. “If we all had good aim, they might not have got away! Instead of just twelve dead, it might have been all of them and no one hurt, and the sheep not gone! And Usenna's father dead!” Her voice broke. “These are the last of the herds, if they all get stolen or killed, where will we get more?” Nold laid a placating hand on her arm but she shook it off angrily. “Not all of us have warding-families yet. What work will be found for those who haven't homes when the herds are all—all gone?” She dissolved into tears again. Nisana leaned against her hard, butted her small hard head into the girl's arm. It came out to wrap around her; the girl buried her face in dark fur. Ylia caught Nold's eye and drew him aside.