Swords Over Fireshore (14 page)

They returned to the others and made ready to start forward again. The ceremony seemed to have refreshed them all; even Luruthin seemed reflective rather than distressed. Glad of this, Eliani walked beside him in silence, keeping her doubts and turmoil to herself.

The Trade Road 

 

R
eturning to the army's camp with Turisan and Ehranan, Rephanin was struck by the changes there. A bustle of activity was taking place around the supply wagons. Rephanin's tent stood alone; no others had been pitched.

Turisan rode away to seek out the mounted companies. Ehranan turned in his saddle to meet Rephanin's gaze.

“We will press harder now. It will likely make you uncomfortable, for which I apologize.”

Rephanin swallowed and nodded his understanding.

Ehranan's eyes showed concern. “Rest well. If you have all you need, I will go.”

“Go.”

Rephanin watched the commander ride away. A guardian came forward to take his horse; he dismounted and yielded it. Really he should learn to care for the animal himself, little though he cared for horses. How useless he was!

He went into his tent, though he doubted he would rest much with all the army busy. To fight the despair he felt rising, he sought activity.

If any of you can hear me, answer now.

Folly, perhaps. He had tried before with much of this army, though new forces had joined them at Midrange. He had little hope of finding another Thorian, but for want of anything better to do, he persisted.

He kept his voice small, a whisper. Over and over he repeated the call. It was soothing in a way, like a cradle song. He was not musical, but he began to play with the rhythm of the words.

Answer now, answer now. If you can hear me, answer now.

What are you doing?

The voice was strong, female, unfamiliar. Rephanin's eyes flew open and he looked around himself. Tent walls, glowing with the fading sunset. He rose and went outside.

Where are you?

With my company. Why do you torment us with this nonsense, magelord?

Do they hear me as well?

A pause followed. Rephanin peered at every face nearby, but the guardians were all occupied, none watching him.

What is your name, please?

He waited, terrified she would not answer. At last she did, sounding less certain.

Filari.

Rephanin drew a deep breath.
Filari, your hearing me among this … chaos, is significant. You may have aptitude for mindspeech. Will you join me?

I must stay with my company. We are preparing to ride.

You are riding? Then you are with Turisan. Go to him, please, and tell him I have asked for your presence.

He will think me mad!

No, I promise you he will not. Tell him that Heléri is wearing a violet gown today.

What?!

Please, Filari, do this and all will be well.

He swept his gaze across the field, searching for Ehranan, but did not see him. Excitement was building in his gut. Had he truly found another mindspeaker? With all that was happening he was not certain of its significance, except that more mindspeakers meant more points of contact. It could not but be a blessing.

Unable to keep still, he ran. Seeking Ehranan, he came instead upon the mounted force gathered on the river bank west of the main camp.

Turisan would be here. Rephanin hurried along the ranks.

Turisan says I may join you.

Rephanin flinched at the sudden contact. Her voice in thought was strong, laced with doubt and confusion. He would have to teach her the signals he used with Thorian.

Excellent. Please give him my thanks. I am near the mounted force now. Do you see a large oak by the river?

Yes.

Let us meet there.

A pause.
Very well.

Rephanin walked to the tree. In a moment he saw two riders approaching, Turisan and a Greenglen female. He recognized her from Turisan's escort; he had come to think of her as the one who always scowled.

They dismounted, and Turisan gave him a nod. “Lord Rephanin, this is Filari. I understand she heard your call?”

“Yes.” Rephanin bowed to her. “I believe she is a mindspeaker.”

Filari's response to this was to frown more deeply.

“Then you wish her to remain with you? The rest of us are riding north shortly.”

“If you do not mind, yes. We should get acquainted, explore her gift.”

Turisan gave Rephanin an intent look and lifted his chin slightly, which Rephanin guessed was a request for private speech. He took a moment to shield his thought from any outsider, especially Filari.

Yes?

Look after her. She has...had difficulty in the guard.

A vague memory of some scandal in Glenhallow drifted through Rephanin's mind. He would have to get the particulars, but not now.

I will.

And Rephanin—you must leave her alone.

What?

Make no advances. She has been hurt.

Rephanin's heart clenched. That Turisan felt it needful to warn him...but he had only himself, and his past actions, to blame for that.

I will be careful.

Turisan turned to Filari. “I congratulate you. Henceforward, if your mindspeech proves true, you will be honored among all ælven.”

Filari blushed crimson and stared at the ground. Her lips moved but formed no words.

“You will travel with the main force. You may keep your mount. Remain with Rephanin, and learn from him.”

She looked up at Turisan then, her face filled with unhappiness. No pride in her accomplishment, no gratitude that she was to be spared a grueling ride.

Turisan offered his arm. Filari hesitated before clasping it briefly, causing Rephanin to wonder just how badly she had been hurt. She watched Turisan ride back to the mounted force with hopeless eyes.

“Come, we should find Ehranan. He will be delighted at this news.”

She gave him a glance that was almost resentful, then walked beside him toward the main army, leading her horse.

What would come of this? The joy of discovery had changed to doubt, for his new mindspeech partner was, incredibly to him, reluctant.

Turisan rode at the head of his new command. They had greeted him as their commander, though he suspected this brought little joy to them, especially the Steppegards. There were two hundred of these, another hundred Eastfæld riders, and something less than a hundred from Southfæld and Alpinon.

They rode along the Asurindel, eastward toward the plains. Freed from canyon confines, the river sprawled lazily here. Cold stars flickered overhead, and the horses' breath came out as fog. Judging it time to rest them, Turisan raised his hand and called a halt.

The captains led their companies to the water in good order. Turisan led his own horse to drink, then took out a map that Felisan had given him, reading it by starlight. He would strike north, he decided, away from the river toward Greenfield, a small village situated on the river Clerendil where the trade road to Hollirued met the trade road running north toward the Steppe Wilds.

Putting away the map, he sighed. He had a few moments now, and might find no better opportunity this night. He sent the query signal to Eliani.

Yes, love? We are walking.

And we are riding. We shall reach Greenfield tonight.

Fill all your water skins there. You will leave the river afterward, and the next few streams to the north are small in winter.

Thank you.

I told Othanin and Kivhani about the Council. Othanin says he will come. Kivhani has not decided. She wants to consult her people, so we are hastening to their camp.

I wish I were with you.

So do I.

Turisan resisted the urge to elaborate on this theme. It would serve neither of them, and what ease it might give his heart would be fleeting.

Rephanin has found another mindspeaker.

A mindspeaker? Wonderful!

Well, perhaps. We shall see.

Why do you doubt?

It is Filari, one of my escort. She is...troubled.

He had never explained Filari's difficulty to Eliani, not wishing to remind her of Kelevon. He wondered now if he should do so, but thought it would help nothing and possibly distress Eliani.

I hope she finds her path, then.

As do I.

A silence followed. Turisan could still feel Eliani's khi. He closed his eyes, treasuring the contact. It was not enough, but it was better than nothing.

Happy Midwinter, Turisan.

Midwinter. They had hoped to be reunited by now. Spirits knew when it would be, but Turisan was determined to find Eliani as their paths crossed. He ached to hold her again, if only for a little while.

Happy Midwinter, my love.

Ghlanhras

 

S
halár fretted as she paced the outer chamber of her suite. She wanted to act, to move. She wanted Woodrun, but she had too few hunters to take it and still hold Ghlanhras.

Two nights had passed since she had reclaimed Ghlanhras. Yaras could not possibly have reached Nightsand yet, not even if he ran without rest; it would be many days before she could expect more of her folk to arrive. She was tempted to send a messenger after Yaras to urge his haste, but that would be folly. She needed every hunter here, for she expected the ælven to retaliate.