Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3 (9 page)

Telai shot him a frown, then sank into another chair near the door with a sigh. She spread her arms and glanced down at herself in distaste. “I probably smell like a pack of wet dogs.”

“I could use a bath, too,” Tenlar said. “But we must talk to Kenda first, no matter how dirty or tired we are.” He grunted. “If he can believe our story.”

“From both the Grand Loremaster and the second-highest Raén in Ada?—not to mention that letter bearing the Seal of Kerraél.”

His expression darkened, and he rose to step into the hallway. “I hope the innkeeper doesn’t dither around with our message,” he muttered as he returned to his chair. “Kenda should be told about this as soon as possible.”

“He’ll come, don’t worry.” She stuck the heels of her palms in her eyes. “I’d keep away from that bed if I were you.”

Tenlar’s jaw dropped; then he grinned. “I have to admit the thought crossed my mind.”

Telai suddenly remembered which room they were in. Her cheeks flamed. “That’s not what I meant, Tenlar, and you know it!”

Tenlar clamped his mouth shut. But he couldn’t hold it in, and shook with silent laughter until the tears flowed, arms wrapped around his stomach. Meanwhile Telai scanned the room for something to throw at him, but eventually gave it up and slumped in her chair, arms folded.

“Finished with your silly little joke?”

His smile lingered—a brave one, she thought, considering the withering look she was giving him. But he held her gaze for what seemed long minutes, until the years melted away, and a faint melancholy stole into her heart, quenching her fury.

“You love him,” he said. It was merely a statement, without bitterness or sentiment.

Her pensive mood vanished. “Is it down to simple jealousy now?”

He shrugged. “I’m no less jealous than the next man.”

“Thank you!” she said, raising her brows. “A much better compliment than
you don’t have a baby’s complexion.
”

Tenlar laughed again, this time gently, as though at himself instead of her. A grin threatened the corners of her lips; then she sat up straight and glanced about the room in affected curiosity.

A bushy-haired old man stood at the open door, a well-worn leather case in one hand. “I’m Larrin,” he said gruffly. He peered at Tenlar’s chapped and reddened face. “Crooked Pass? The winds are wicked up there, lad. And you’re not in blushing health yourself, young lady.”

She lifted her chin. “No, but Lord Tenlar is to be ministered to first.”

Larrin nodded absently. Then he stared at both her and Tenlar in quick succession. His expression darkened, and Telai fought another smile. Apparently Laiyara hadn’t told the doctor about his patient’s identity.

There wasn’t much for the physician to do for either of them except leave some ointment. He left before Tenlar could pay for his services, abruptly and without a word. Soon afterward two servants entered with trays of hot food, evoking groans of pleasure from their guests. Yet they had only half finished when they heard a restrained knock at the door.

Kenda was about the same age as Soren, with a mop of brown hair shot with gray. With his rugged features he looked more like an old soldier than an Underseer. He stared briefly at Tenlar, perhaps wondering what matter was so grave to require the hardships of Crooked Pass. Kenda clasped hands with them, apologized for interrupting their meal, then brought another chair from Tenlar’s room and set it near the glowing hearth.

“I’m not sure, Lord Kenda, where to begin,” Tenlar said as Telai rose to close the door. “There’s a lot to tell. Ada is in grave peril—in fact, Udan and Ekendoré may be under siege or attack this very moment.” Seeing Kenda’s confusion, he added, “You’ve heard nothing of this?”

“Nothing concrete, except these Hodyn scouts in the area of late. Bannlef is out looking into it as we speak. Did any escape the battle at Eastgate?”

“A few, I’ll admit. But I still don’t see how they could have reached Crooked Pass without anyone noticing it.”

“Who knows what the Bringer is capable of now, Lord Tenlar?” said Telai, careful to address him formally. “In Gebi she vanished right before our eyes.”

He paused in thought, but Kenda sat up straight. “Then the rumors are true!”

“They are,” Tenlar replied. “That’s why we called you here.”

Doubt clouded Kenda’s expression. “But no one would send the Grand Loremaster and the Master Raén of Spierel all the way to Enilií to deliver a simple message, no matter how important.”

“No, but the message is anything but simple,” said Telai. “And, with your permission, let me be the one to deliver it, or most of it. I’ve been more involved in the tale than Lord Tenlar, though certainly not as much as Soren, or … or Caleb Stenger.”

“Agh! I
knew
something was wrong. Bannlef’s scouts spotted Lord Soren heading west along the south shore of Lrana a while back. Two other men were with him, and a boy. We weren’t so foolish to follow them to Tnestiri, though.”

“My lord,” Telai said, “that same forest may hold Ada’s only salvation. Hear us out—then you’ll understand.”

Kenda listened without interruption, absorbing every word. Tenlar in the meantime fought to stay awake, for no matter how grim the tale he had heard it before, and the large meal was having its effect. Even Telai slurred a few words toward the end, and she straightened in her chair to revive herself.

The Underseer sat in shocked silence, but his hesitation didn’t last. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything, as far as Enilií is concerned. No corner of this part of Ada shall escape the eyes of the Raéni, I assure you. If there’s anything you need, ask Laiyara, and she’ll see that you get it.” He stood.

“We definitely could use a few days’ rest,” Tenlar said, rising with him. “But the urgency of our mission forces us to shorten our stay here. We should leave before sunrise on the second morning. We’ll need a fresh team, two if it can be arranged. There’s a long way to go yet, and the quicker we return to Ekendoré, the better.” He placed a hand at his hip. “I’ll need a sword, too.”

Kenda nodded. “Consider it done.”

♦

They spent the next day quietly, hoping to keep their presence a secret to all save Kenda, Laiyara, the doctor, and a few trusted messengers, such as the old gatekeeper. With the excellent food and care, Tenlar’s face began to heal rapidly, though he knew it might be several days before the last traces were gone.

With frequent visits from Kenda or his messengers, it proved impossible to distract themselves from the gravity of their mission. A large, ornate map of Ada and the surrounding lands had been painted on the wall of the lobby, extending from Larsus to Trethrealm, Wellrock to Tnestiri. The last was represented by a green, largely indistinct area dominating the upper-left corner. It emphasized the uncertainty of their destination; where in that vast, primeval forest would they find this Ksoreda, who had appeared to them as little more than a ghost? His only instructions had been to seek him deep within the forest’s heart.

They retired early, intent on living up to their promise to be up and away before sunrise. But in the late hours of the night Tenlar awoke to a vigorous pounding at his door, accompanied by an urgent voice in the hall. His first thought was that the servant assigned to wake him was overdoing it a bit. He groaned, forced himself up, and sat on the edge of the bed as the pounding continued.

“Yes, yes,” he bellowed, running a hand through his hair.

“Lord Tenlar!” the muffled voice called. “Please open the door. Hodyn are attacking the city!”

That did what no amount of pounding could accomplish. In seconds he was at the door, fully alert.

The chalk-white face of a teenage boy appeared. “They’re attacking from the south. They came out of nowhere!”

Tenlar’s indecision vanished at once. “Wake Telai in the next room, tell her to get our things together. I must see Kenda.”

The youngster’s hand stopped him. “He’ll meet you with your teams in the alley behind the inn. He said you must wait there if the quest is to survive.”

Tenlar nodded. “I’ll wake Telai. Go to Kenda. Give him whatever help he needs. Quickly!” he ordered, and the boy set off down the hall at a run.

Tenlar remembered how soundly Telai slept in a comfortable bed, and he didn’t feel like knocking. All prudence aside, he opened the door, walked over, and jostled her awake.

She sat up staring, drawing her blankets over her chest. “So help me, Tenlar, if you—”

“Never mind! Hodyn are attacking the city. Get dressed, get your things together. We must meet Kenda at the back of the inn. He’ll have our teams ready for us.”

“Attacking the city? How is that possible?”

A distant shout turned their heads toward the window. “No time for questions! We need to hurry if we’re to escape,” he said, and left the room before she could say another word.

♦

Snow fell. The air was damp. Telai and Tenlar waited in an alley near the back door of the inn, huddled within their winter coats and listening to the noise of battle away south of town. A faint scream rose into the sky, an eerie sound in the heavy air. Tenlar’s hand fidgeted on the hilt of his new sword, while Telai stood in shocked silence.

Though the wait seemed long, only a few minutes later a pair of teams rounded the corner, one driven by the boy who had wakened Tenlar, the other by Kenda himself. Plumes of breath entwined the First Underseer’s hood as he halted at their feet.

“The north part of the city is still free,” he said. “They must think no one will try to escape that way. Bannlef has returned just in time, too. He knows about your mission, and he’ll fight to the last man to keep the Hodyn confined to the south. But you can’t wait! We must assume they know nothing about your presence here. If you hurry they may never find you.”

The Underseer drew close and handed Tenlar a note. “Here are directions to the home of an elderly couple, a long day’s ride west,” he whispered. “I don’t know their names, and be sure not to tell them yours. They’ll give you food and shelter tonight. You shouldn’t bivouac in the open until you’re far from the city.”

Tenlar glanced at the teenage boy, grimly aware of why Kenda was whispering: the Hodyn were known to torture secrets out of their victims.

“Who are these people?” he muttered softly. “Treth?”

Kenda scanned the southern sky. A crimson line of death thin as gossamer shot into the clouds.

He turned back, eyes full of dread. “Does it matter? Ask no more questions. Go,
now
!” He seized Tenlar’s arm and nearly threw him at the sled. “Before we all fight in vain!”

“Wait,” the Master Raén cried, and reached inside his coat to bring out a small item wrapped in cloth. Without further preamble he tossed it into the Underseer’s hands.

They shouted their commands, and the teams sprang forward, Telai in the lead. Tenlar glanced back, his face twisted as if in pain, and vanished into the snow-filled gloom.

Kenda focused on the package in his hands. He unwrapped it, then gasped.

“The fool!”

The boy stepped closer, curious despite his fears. “What in Hendra’s name is
that
?”

The older man lifted his stare into the black tomb of the alley. “A fighting chance.”

7

Forest of Souls

To feel alone in a forest is to have no eyes, and no ears.

- Jander, first explorer of Ada

BETWEEN ROWS
and rows of brambles they rode, the dogs bounding and panting through the falling snow. Telai feared an ambush at every turn. She knew that many silent forms were hiding in the shadows nearby, but they were Raéni, posted by Bannlef to cut down any Hodyn who broke through the lines.

They headed directly for the shores of Lrana, hearing no sound and seeing no sign of the enemy. They seldom stopped to rest, exchanging few words, save when Tenlar confirmed Telai’s fears by mentioning that the Hodyn could not have approached the city unseen without some kind of sorcery. Time was precious now.

The weather cleared, and the air turned mild; the snow-covered fields brightened around them, and the distant rooftops of barns and villages rose above the winter haze. Telai had always loved the beauty of winter, when each snow-shrouded light and chimney spoke of the enduring comforts of hearth and home. Today it filled her with grief. Ordinary, everyday sounds were all about her—the lowing of a cow, a breakfast bell, the faint slam of a door—idyllic little testaments of a way of life that might have witnessed its last dawn.

Following the directions on Kenda’s note, by dusk they found the home of the old couple, who dwelt on the outskirts of a fishing village near the frozen mouth of a stream. Once they read the note they asked no questions. The man proved to be an excellent cook, serving a delicious meal of
oflai
, a freshwater fish common to Lrana, while his wife chatted with her guests like an old friend. Yet Telai saw an underlying fear in the way she kept glancing out the window or at the doorway when her husband left the room.

A low barn full of straw stood nearby, where Tenlar and Telai stayed the night with their teams. It was safer for everyone concerned, and in any case there was not enough room in the tiny house. Telai had insisted on keeping her lead dog, and she smiled as Slink lay down beside her, knowing he was as good a night guard as any soldier. But they took no chances, and woke well before dawn. After leaving a small gift of money in the barn for their elderly hosts, they left as quietly as they could and headed for the lake.

Northwest they rode over the vast, wind-swept ice, risking open water yet less exposed to enemy eyes so far from land. And they made better speed. By evening blue sky was peeking through breaks in the overcast, and the sun set behind fire-rimmed clouds, silhouetting the low hills of an island only a few miles long. They camped under the dense shelter of its trees, and on the following morning started off with all measured speed toward the distant shore to the west.

By late afternoon they were riding through the wild country beyond the lake. Telai remembered Ksoreda’s promise to remove the protective barrier surrounding Tnestiri. But his assurances seemed to grow weaker with each passing mile, and she dreaded the first glimpse of the forest ahead.