Swords Over Fireshore (25 page)

Luruthin realized that he had withdrawn his khi from any awareness of the living woodlands. He was holding himself closed, a state he had assumed as defense in Ghlanhras. There was no need for it now, and he sought to alter it, reaching out experimentally toward the nearest tree, an ancient fir. He felt its life, slow, silent and powerful in roots that spread deep into the earth. It gave him heart with an intensity that surprised him.

Live in the world
, a tenet of the creed. One he had ceased to uphold for a while. It would be best if he resumed it, but slowly, slowly. He could not open himself all at once.

He was glad to be with his people, his kindred and companions. Glad to be walking free beneath the sky. These were the gifts he should hold in his thoughts, as a light against dark memories.

And Jhinani. It almost hurt to think of her, but she, too, was a gift. He should compose a message to send to her. Some cheerful news, some word of hope. When he tried, he could only remember the dark truth that he must someday share with her, and his heart recoiled. Not yet, not yet.

Footsteps hastening toward them made him sit up. Vanorin was returning, slightly winded.

“There is a ridge ahead that we can reach by nightfall, if we hasten. It will be a good place to camp.” Vanorin drank from his water skin, then looked at Luruthin. “Can you bear a push until evening?”

Luruthin rubbed his thighs. “I think so.”

“Eat some fruit, it will give you strength.”

Luruthin was not hungry, but he knew the sense in Vanorin's words and reached for his pack. He ate a dried stonefruit and kept out the pouch, tying it to his waist with a leather thong that he found in the bottom of the pack. There was a comb there, too. A simple thing, to be able to comb one's hair when one wished, but also an enormous comfort.

Another gift. Luruthin's lips twitched in a smile. Giving thanks was also part of the creed. He was trying, with all his heart, to be grateful.

Vanorin hastened them onward, crossing a valley and pointing out the ridge on its far side. It seemed rather distant to Luruthin, and the climb would be steep on the opposite side of the valley, but he resolved to keep up.

For a while the way was clear of brush, allowing them to make good speed as they followed Vanorin back and forth across the steep slope. As they approached the valley bottom the rushing sound of water reached them. The stream was small but swift, and Vanorin secured a rope to a tree before crossing, tying it to another at the far side. This was for his sake, Luruthin knew, feeling slightly ashamed and annoyed.

He held the rope as he crossed, cold water stabbing into his lower legs and the rocks slippery underfoot. The others all used the rope as well though he suspected they did not need it. Onami came last, untying the far end of the rope and gathering it as she came. Just before reaching the bank she slipped and caught herself with the rope, splashing out of the stream to take Vanorin's reaching hand.

They paused to fill their water skins. Luruthin drank as much of the icy water as he could stand, and ate another stonefruit while he stamped his numb feet and tried to shake off the cold. He was too sensitive to it, he thought. Usually he was stronger than this. He was holding better than he had on the journey to the Lost's camp, though.

Vanorin pushed them onward, crossing back and forth on the south slope as they climbed, now. Before long Luruthin's breath rasped in his throat, and his lower legs began to burn with the effort. Twice Vanorin halted to let him catch his breath. The second time Luruthin noticed tiny snowflakes beginning to drift down. Looking up, he saw a thick sky above the treetops, and many more flakes falling.

It would snow well into the night, he realized. There was no wind to push the storm away. This was why Vanorin wished to reach the ridge by nightfall. He must be hoping to find a good shelter against the snow. If need be they could cut boughs of fir and pine to protect them, and such a shelter would be easier to make against a rock wall.

Luruthin drank, forced himself to eat one more fruit, and nodded to Vanorin. His stomach complained at the cold water. He ignored it and trudged after Eliani, too tired even to think of a song.

Dark had fallen by the time they reached the ridge. A thumb's width of snow lay on the ground, and the flakes continued to fall, larger and thicker now.

Vanorin found a small, clear place that was fairly level and sheltered by a crop of rock that looked ready to tumble at the first tremor. Luruthin leaned against the rock while the others set about cutting branches, brushing away the snow, gathering firewood. He was too weary to help, to his dismay.

Eliani dumped an armload of dry sticks beside him. “Can you kindle us a fire?”

Luruthin nodded and pushed away from the rock. Leaving his pack, bow, and quiver beside it, he took up two handfuls of the kindling and moved to the center of the tiny camp. Piling the sticks together, he held his hand over them and focused his khi upon the dry heart of one twig, building warmth within it, growing it into heat, into a spark.

He found it difficult to concentrate on the task, one so easy every ælven child learned it before learning to write. His lungs burned with cold as he drew in deep breaths. He was angry with himself, and he used that to feed the feeble spark he had made.

At last a yellow tongue of flame flickered. He fed it with more twigs and with scraps of shreddy bark handed to him by Birani. He became aware that the others were in the camp, moving about. Glancing behind him he saw them building a low roof against the rock outcrop, covering cross poles with boughs of evergreen.

Returning his attention to the fire, he fed it carefully, building it up with heavier sticks and the first of a pile of small logs that Felahran had brought. The guardian must have acquired a woodcutter's knife somewhere, among the gifts from Bitterfield, perhaps.

Snowflakes hissed as they vanished in the flames. Luruthin began to feel the fire's warmth against his knees, and sighed gratefully.

“Ah, excellent!” Vanorin crouched beside him and held out his hands toward the fire.

Luruthin glanced up and saw that the roof now extended over him, with a notch left for the fire's smoke. The others gathered beneath it, close quarters, but that was an advantage in the cold. They dug in their packs for food. Eliani produced a loaf of soft bread and tore it into six portions. She smiled as she handed one to Luruthin.

“You are getting stronger. You would not have made that climb a few days ago.”

Luruthin pulled off a bit of the bread and ate it. Its flavor was good, but he was not especially hungry.

He glanced at Vanorin. “I wonder if we will be able to move at all, tomorrow.”

“A good question.”

If the snow fell all night and fell deeply, they would not be able to continue southward. They would have to return down the valley and seek lower ground for their journey. They were well south of Bitterfield, now, but not out of Fireshore. That would take another day or two, at least.

Eliani offered Luruthin a slice of cheese from her knife. He took it and ate it, but the taste was sour in his mouth and he refused a second piece. He nibbled at the bread until he could not manage more, and handed what was left back to Eliani.

“Too many stonefruits?”

The teasing in her voice reminded him of childhood. He smiled, then poked at the fire with a stick of kindling.

Vanorin hung two of the blankets across the front of the shelter, trapping more of the fire's warmth inside and keeping out the drifting snow. Gradually the party settled down to rest, their feet toward the fire, sharing the remaining blankets.

Luruthin lay with Eliani on one side and Felahran on the other. He tried to clear his thoughts, empty his mind for rest, though lately doing so had opened the way for dark memories to rise up. To counter that he thought of pleasant memories, old times with the Guard. He could imagine himself on patrol now, in the high reaches of Alpinon, guarding the roads below from kobalen.

He became aware that his thoughts were drifting, aware of deep silence around him. The night seemed to press down on him. No stars, no friendly light. Darkness enwrapped him, a darkness so heavy he felt trapped by it, so intense it seemed the sun would never breach it.

With a gasp he sat up and threw off the blanket covering him. He stumbled to his feet and out of the shelter, nearly pulling down one of the blankets in his haste.

Outside he stood gasping in the cold, blinking as snowflakes settled on his face. The snow lay nearly a handspan deep, and the cold swiftly penetrated his legs, but he stood shuddering, drinking deep gulps of the night air.

He heard someone emerge from the shelter and turned his head swiftly. Vanorin stood there, concern writ on his face.

“Luruthin?”

“I h-had to get out. Get some air. I felt confined.”

His throat tightened on the words. He glanced away again, into the swirling snow. The panic he had felt was fading.

“I see. Stay a moment.”

Vanorin went into the shelter and returned with a blanket. He wrapped it around Luruthin's shoulders.

“Th-thank you.”

“Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Vanorin gazed at him, worry in the dark eyes. “Do not go far.”

Luruthin stared back, realizing the captain feared he would leave, wander off into the frozen night. He drew the blanket closer.

“I will return.”

Vanorin nodded, then went back into the shelter. Luruthin turned away again, gazing at the falling snow. He felt calmer though he was not yet ready to go back inside.

He was annoyed with himself for panicking so, for disturbing the rest of his fellows. Perhaps he should walk away into the snow and cease to be a burden on them.

But to do that would be to waste the effort they had spent to free him. The lives that had been spent.

He closed his eyes, swallowing. He could not do that, render their sacrifice meaningless. The worst was over. It was his obligation to make the best of the gift of freedom the guardians had given him.

Glancing toward the shelter, he saw the snow piled on the boughs of its makeshift roof. That was what had made him feel confined—the muffling layer of snow. Now that he knew what it was, he thought he could return inside.

He took a last deep breath and gazed upward at the fat flakes drifting out of the darkness. The air was no longer quite so still, and the snow danced and swirled over his head.

Father—

Luruthin gasped and for a moment lost his balance. He shifted his feet and blinked as a snowflake struck one eye. He shook his head vigorously, then listened.

It had been his daughter's voice, he was certain. He stood still, straining to hear more.

No sound came, but through the drifting snow he saw a pair of golden eyes in the darkness, blazing with the rage and hunger of a catamount. He took a step back instinctively. The eyes faded, leaving him staring into the snowfall.

For a long time he stood straining to hear or see more. No more came, though, and at last the cold drove him back into the shelter.

Faint heat rose from the coals of the fire. Luruthin stirred them and added wood, pushing the coals close on either side so that it would burn slowly. Vanorin lay uncovered between the others, so Luruthin settled beside him and threw the blanket over them both.

Lying back, he tried to relax. The stillness caused by the snow layer overhead closed around him again.

To keep himself calm he reached out to the woods, touching the khi of the many trees outside the shelter, feeling their strength and their deep, silent patience. In their roots they knew the snow would not last forever. It would stop falling eventually. It would melt, not at once, perhaps, but in time. The sun would return again.

The sun would return, and he would find his way out of darkness. The memory of the glowing eyes troubled him, but not knowing their meaning, he could make no response. He sensed no catamount near, nor any other creature moving in the forest. He would have to wait out the storm, and see what the morrow might bring.

“Eyes?” Eliani frowned as she watched Luruthin toy with the fire, which he had built up again after sunrise. The snow had ceased, but it had fallen fairly deep, and Vanorin had decided to let the sun work at it a while before they moved on.

Luruthin nodded, frowning himself as he mused. “I thought they might belong to a catamount. They were angry, and hungry.”

Her stomach growled. She dug a piece of bread from her pack. “You think it was a vision, not a real animal?”

“I know it was not really there. It may have been a warning.”

“Spirit-sent.”

Luruthin gazed toward the front of the shelter, seeming not to see the blankets that blocked his view. After a moment, he nodded.

Eliani tore the chunk of bread in half and offered a share to him. He shook his head. He had not broken fast, save for a few sips of water, and this worried her.

His vision worried her as well. She had never heard of eyes appearing as a warning. She wished she could ask Heléri about it, for Heléri knew more about the spirit world than anyone else of her acquaintance.