Cry of the Ghost Wolf: Neverwinter NiChosen of Nendawen, Book III (36 page)

“Time is running out. Help me.”

Some time later, she heard the three Damarans finish their rites and return to the camp. But then two left again—and by the sounds she knew who it was. One lumbered through the brush with all the grace of a bull, branches catching on his mail and grabbing at the scabbard that rode his hip. Leading him was another, whose four feet made much less noise on the carpet of leaves and who managed to wend his way through all but the smallest branches.

Uncle led Darric to Hweilan, gave her a long look, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes, then turned and left.

Darric stood before her, unable to see her eyes in the dark and hesitant to disturb her.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“You wish to be alone?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, but stopped herself.
Stop slapping it away
, he had told her, and damn if it wasn’t good advice. Thinking on her friends and family had reminded her of that.

“Thank you, Darric. For coming. And for your words earlier.”

He gave a bow that on anyone else would have seemed comical. But his sincerity touched her.

Darric cleared his throat, then said, “I fear I wasn’t entirely truthful, Hweilan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier. All my talk of fighting evil and defending the faith. All true. Every word. But that isn’t why I’m here. Valsun and Mandan have known it all along, yet still they stay with me. They are better men than I will ever be. True knights.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I came for you. I’m still here … for you.”

“Darric, I—”

“No. Let me speak. Hweilan, I … I have been in love with you since I was a boy. Since that day you helped me in the fight.”

“Darric, stop.”

She didn’t want to hear any more. Not now. Still, Gleed’s words came to her mind again. Hweilan had left nothing
behind that she could ever go back to. It had all been taken from her. Of course, if she did manage to destroy the one responsible … what then? But she could not allow herself to be distracted. Not now. Not when she was so close. And yet, she had no desire to hurt Darric.

“You loved a fantasy. A hope of what I might be. But not the real me. You don’t know the real me.”

“You’re wrong. Last year when my father told me that he had been talking with the High Warden, and that you would be coming to stay at my home in hopes of … well, you know what they were hoping. I asked everyone—anyone who had ever heard the slightest rumor of you.”

And Hweilan had no doubt what he’d been told. Child of a half-breed barbarian who would rather spend her days hunting with the Nar than stitching with the court ladies.

Darric snorted. “My father told me that if half the stories about you were true, it would be up to me to tame you and make you a proper lady, fit to rule a Damaran house. My weapons master—when my father was not around, mind you—told me not to tame all the fire out of you. That a little wildness in a woman was a good thing, if …”

Darric stopped suddenly, aware that he’d said too much. Hweilan felt herself blushing and was grateful for the dark. She didn’t know whether to be furious at the gossiping court hens saying such things about her or furious that the court men had been envious at the prospect of their lord’s son taking such a wild one to his bed.

“You should go back to camp, Darric,” she said. “
Now
.”

“They were fools, Hweilan,” he said. “All of them. If they’d only met you, none of them would have talked of taming you. A man would have more success taming the wind. And the gods would damn the man who tried.”

Hweilan’s blush returned in full force, which only fueled her anger. “You—”

“No, listen. Please. When you first found us in the mountains, I admit I was horrified. I thought you were nothing like what I had expected. And I was right.”

“Darric—”

“You were
more
,” he said. “Damn it all, Hweilan, I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve become. But I swear to you that I’ll give my life for you. I was a fool to doubt you. You’re all I hope for and more than I deserve.”

He stopped. She waited for more. When none came, she took a deep breath and said, “Darric, do you really want to help me?”

“I swear it.”

“Swear?”

“On my life and the honor of my house.”

Hweilan smiled, though she knew he couldn’t see it in the dark. For all his bravery, Darric was still a boy in many ways. Boys swore so easily. She had seen enough to know better.

“Then listen …”

The moon had long gone behind the mountains and the first hints of dawn were creeping into the sky when those in camp heard Hweilan and Darric returning. A dotard with only half his hearing in one ear could have heard them. A graceful woodsman Darric was not, but even Hweilan crashed heedless through the branches and stomped over the carpet of leaves. Both of them were shouting.

“… all we’ve done for you!” said Darric. “You ungrateful wench! You—!”

“I never asked for your help,” said Hweilan.

“And we never asked for your help. Ever since we took up with you, we’ve been captured, tortured, and—”

Hweilan reached camp first. Darric was at her heels. All eyes turned to them, and Valsun stood, ever wanting to be the peace maker, but stunned into inaction by the vehemence of their words.

“And you’d still be there if not for me!” said Hweilan. She looked to the other Damarans. “Every last one of you.” She turned back to Darric and softened her tone. “Listen to me. If you love those men—if you’ve ever loved your people—take them and go home. Warn them about what’s
coming. If I win today, then your father will need to know that Highwatch stands empty. And if I die … you need to warn them about what’s coming.”

Darric stepped forward and jabbed his finger in her shoulder. “I won’t turn tail and—”

Hweilan grabbed his wrist, twisted, and turned his whole arm. Then she shoved him in the chest, sending him sprawling into the nearest campfire. Sparks and ashes flew, but his thick wool and mail saved him from a scorching. He scrambled to his feet and slapped the embers off his tabard.

“Touch me again and I’ll break the arm next time,” she said.

The hobgoblins laughed at this, but Mandan stepped between Darric and Hweilan, his club raised. “You try and—”

“You’ll step back,” said Rhan, still calmly sitting by a fire and rubbing cold ashes into the cuts on his chest. The Greatsword of Impiltur lay naked on his lap. “You finish that thought and I’ll shove that club down your—”

“Enough!” Valsun found his voice at last. “Darric, Hweilan, please! This … there is no point in fighting among ourselves.”

“No,” said Darric, his voice cold. “We left our home to try to help yours, Hweilan, and you’ve shown us nothing but ingratitude and disdain. You dishonor us—and yourself. Valsun is right. Enough is enough.” He looked to his companions. “Gather your things. We’re leaving.”

Valsun’s jaw dropped and Mandan whirled to look at his brother. “What?” he said. “But we … you …”

“Have had enough,” said Darric. “She’s right. Damara must be warned. We’ve done all we can do here. Our fight lies elsewhere.”

“But—” said Valsun.

But Mandan cut him off. “Damn it, Brother! You love her!”

“I thought I did,” said Darric, and he looked at Hweilan as he spoke. “You’re sure about this?”

“I am,” said Hweilan. “Get gone.”

Darric nodded and grabbed his pack.

Valsun said, “My lord—”

“Enough!” said Darric. Then softer, “Enough, my friend. We’re done here. Come.”

He bent, picked up Valsun’s pack, and shoved it at him.

Valsun took it, but his eyes were wide, stunned.

Darric turned and stomped out of camp.

“Valsun,” said Mandan. “You can’t let him do this.”

Valsun looked to Hweilan. “We’ll talk to him.”

“You do that,” said Hweilan, then looked at Mandan and Jaden. “All of you. Go talk to him. But walk while you talk.
Now
.”

She put one hand on the dagger at her waist. Uncle padded to her side and growled.

Vurgrim stood. “You heard. Go.”

Trembling and looking like a faithful hound who had just been whipped by his master, Valsun followed after Darric.

Mandan looked to Rhan, then Vurgrim, and finally down at Urlun. “Come.”

He grabbed his own pack, slung his club over his shoulder, and followed his companions.

Jaden slammed his short sword back into the scabbard, shouldered his pack, and gave Hweilan a hesitant smile. “Said I wasn’t walking back by myself. Looks like I’m not by myself anymore.” He gave her a slight bow. “Good luck, lady.”

With that, he followed after Mandan.

Urlun was still sitting, startled. He looked after them, then at the hobgoblins.

“Time to choose, boy,” said Vurgrim.

Urlun grabbed his axe and his pack, and ran after the Damarans.

“And you?” Vurgrim called to Hratt. “You going to run off with your new friends?”

Hratt was still sitting with his head back against the bole of a tree. His eyes were closed, but his hand lay curved around the hilt of the sword that lay beside him. He opened his eyes and sat up. “I serve the Razor Heart,” he said.

The hobgoblins laughed. “And I sup with Shar!” one of them said, bringing more laughter.

The warriors stood and began to gather their own things.

Flet walked up to Hweilan and spoke, his voice low. “Should I take my archers after those five? We don’t want any surprises at our backs.”

“Let them go,” said Hweilan. “You’re going to need all your arrows for what’s in front.”

C
HAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

T
HEY STAYED IN THE COPSE UNTIL WELL PAST MIDDAY
. The hobgoblins were used to sleeping in the daylight anyway, and they needed to wait to make sure the other attack parties were in place. While the warriors snored, wrapped up in their cloaks, Hweilan sat with her back to a tree, her mind racing. She could not sleep. Not with the feeling of her enemy so close.

When at last the sun began its downward descent and the shadows in the wood lengthened, Hweilan roused Rhan.

“It’s time.”