Swords Over Fireshore (32 page)

Luruthin called his readiness. Eliani nodded to Ulithan, who began hauling at the rope again. She watched him bring up Vanorin's gear and stack it away from the edge. She could hear Luruthin climbing now.

Ulithan coiled the rope, laid it beside Vanorin's gear, then moved to where his belt lay. Eliani kept an eye on him, not yet ready to trust him. He put on his belt and stayed by the cliff wall, watching her with his black eyes.

Luruthin reached the ledge, caught sight of Ulithan and paused halfway over the edge, staring in alarm. “Who is that?”

“A friend, I think. He helped bring Vanorin up.”

Ulithan came toward them. “May I help you as well?”

Luruthin heaved himself over the edge, wincing as he set his weight on his knees.  He got to his feet and stepped between Eliani and Ulithan, glaring at the alben.

“This is Ulithan.” Eliani met Ulithan's gaze. “I am Eliani, and this is Luruthin, my cousin. That is Vanorin.”

Ulithan nodded. “You are welcome to shelter in any of the caves, but I think you should come into mine for now. I have a fire there. Shall I carry him?”

He stepped toward Vanorin, looking to Eliani for approval. She nodded.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He knelt and gently picked up the injured captain. Luruthin caught Eliani's eye, frowning. She gave a shrug and reached for Vanorin's bow and quiver, while Luruthin took up his pack.

They followed Ulithan along the ledge through the gusting snow, passing the dark mouths of several caves before Ulithan stopped at one. He glanced back at Eliani and Luruthin, then stepped into what looked like a mere hollow in the cliff wall, higher and narrower than the one where Eliani and her party had sheltered the night of Kelevon's attack.

Eliani closed her eyes as she pushed away that memory. When she opened them again she saw Ulithan step around a protrusion of rock and disappear. She hurried after him, and found herself in a narrow corridor that ran deep into the cliff.

Vanorin gave a startled gasp as his injured foot brushed the wall. Ulithan murmured an apology and continued forward.

There was almost no light in the passage, though Eliani could see Ulithan's form moving before her. Despite the closeness of the walls she was relieved to be out of the snow and wind. She caught a whiff of wood smoke, and a faint, pungent smell of dried leaves, then saw light ahead as the passage opened into a larger cave.

It was roughly circular, perhaps three rods across, and was lit by a small bed of glowing coals at one side. A circle of rocks contained the fire, and the smoke rose into a small crack in the cave's ceiling.

The walls were dotted with rows of pegs from which hung deerskin clothing, untrimmed skins, furs, bunches of dried herbs, a bow and two quivers. Small shelves mounted high on the walls held wooden bowls and cups, rough pottery jars, gourds, feathers, and animal skins. One longer shelf held a large number of what looked like more skins, these small and rolled, neatly stacked.

Ulithan went to the fire and gently laid Vanorin on a heap of furs beside it. Luruthin entered the cave, set Vanorin's pack against the wall, and took off his own.

Eliani unshouldered hers as well, sighing with relief. She left it with Vanorin's quiver and bow and her own, though she kept both her sword and Birani's with her.

She went forward to the fire and knelt beside Vanorin. Ulithan moved back to give her room.

She glanced at him. “Thank you for your kindness.”

He smiled slightly and nodded, then stood up. “Please make yourselves at home. It is long since I had any visitors.”

Luruthin came to sit beside Eliani. He, too, had kept on the sword he wore, and his hand rested on its hilt as he watched Ulithan go to a shelf and take down a gourd and a pottery jug. Trusting Luruthin's suspicion, Eliani turned her own attention to Vanorin's injury.

Gently she drew the fur cloak—rabbit furs, she now noticed, meticulously stitched together and wonderfully soft—away from Vanorin's foot. He lay with eyes closed, breathing shallowly. Eliani held her hands above his ankle, careful not to touch it as healing began to flow from her palms.

Vanorin gave a soft moan, and his breathing slowed somewhat. Eliani closed her eyes and let go of all thoughts beyond the khi flowing through her. She guided it into the swollen flesh, felt it ease pain and begin to mend the damage. She stayed still, unaware of time passing until at last she noticed her hands growing cool.

When she opened her eyes she saw Luruthin still seated nearby, watching Ulithan. Their host was stirring something in the pottery jug, which sat over the coals at one side of the fire. Minted steam rose from the jug, a comforting smell. Ulithan sensed her gaze and glanced up, smiling shyly.

“A healer.” His voice was soft and low. “Welcome indeed. Will you have some tea?”

“Thank you, yes.”

He took the jug from the fire and poured from it into a wooden cup, which he then offered to Eliani. He had taken off his gloves, and she saw that his fingers were long and dexterous. All his movements were unhurried and fluid.

She watched him as she sipped the tea, its warmth spreading through her chest. Ulithan offered tea to Luruthin, then poured a third cup and glanced inquiringly from Vanorin to Eliani.

She shook her head. “Let him rest.”

Ulithan nodded and returned the jug to the fire, settling back and sipping from the cup himself. Eliani gazed at him, wondering what to make of him. Though his coloring proclaimed him a victim of the alben's curse, something in the lines of his face reminded her of Greenglens.

She glanced from him to Vanorin. Yes, the angle of the brows, and the high cheekbones, were similar.

Now that they were out of the wind and snow she could better observe Ulithan's khi, and what she sensed reassured her. As far as she could tell he was sincere in his wish to be of service. She could detect no ill will. He seemed entirely content to host three strangers in what was plainly his home.

He asked no questions. He seemed at peace, and that reminded her more of Heléri than anyone else. It was the strongest sense she had from him, that he was one who had found peace.

She took another sip of tea. “Do you live here alone?”

Ulithan smiled softly. “Yes.”

“What of your kindred? Your clan?”

The smile faded. “I have no clan.”

He took a log from a small stack nearby and laid it over the coals. Wisps of smoke began to rise from beneath it, drifting toward the crack in the roof.

“Everyone has a clan.”

Ulithan glanced at Luruthin, black eyes gone hard. “Darkshore cast me out, and no other would have me.”

“Darkshore!” Eliani stared at him in surprise. “How long have you lived here?”

Ulithan's lips curved again, this time in amusement. “Twenty-seven centuries, and a few years.”

Eliani was stunned. “You saw the Bitter Wars!”

“I saw the first, and heard about the second. By then I had already left Ghlanhras.”

Eliani gazed at him in awe. He was one of the oldest souls she had ever met, and though countless questions leapt to her mind, she was shy of posing them. Ulithan had chosen to live alone, in voluntary exile perhaps, for centuries. She had no wish to intrude upon his privacy.

Luruthin was not so reticent. “Why did Darkshore cast you out?”

Ulithan gazed at him for a long moment. “Because my ways did not agree with theirs.”

“How so?”

Eliani directed a warning frown at Luruthin, who showed no sign of noticing. He was watching Ulithan, his expression suspicious. Eliani wished he would show more courtesy to one who was so much their elder.

Ulithan in turn was watching Luruthin, his air of amusement increasing, though it was tempered with a slight frown. “I favored upholding the creed, for one thing.”

Luruthin seemed to relax somewhat. “Oh.”

Eliani gave a slight cough. “Perhaps you have not heard of the Lost.”

Ulithan turned an interested gaze on her. She finished her tea and set the cup down before her.

“A group of folk who suffer the alben's curse, but who live by the creed. They have dwelt in the woodlands of Fireshore for a century or so.”

Ulithan shook his head. “I had not heard of them, no. I am glad to hear they live by the creed. I tried to convince Darkshore they should live so, but they were too bitter, and would not hear me.”

“I am sure the Lost would welcome you.”

He glanced at her, laughter glinting in his dark eyes. “Think you so?”

“Yes. Their leader is Kivhani, who governed Fireshore with her lord until she was stricken with the hunger. She is a gracious lady, deeply devoted to the creed. I know she would make you welcome.”

He gazed at her, the smile playing about his lips. “I think I am best here. I have dwelt alone too long now to wish for constant company.”

Eliani felt her cheeks reddening. “It is most kind of you to welcome us.”

His smile widened. “Oh, I am glad to have visitors. It has been a long while since anyone came this high onto the Sleeper. What brought you here?”

“We were trying to retrace our path northward, but missed our way in the storm.”

Ulithan's face went serious. “Was it you who lit the pyre two nights since?”

“Yes. You saw it?”

“I smelled it.”

Eliani lowered her gaze to the fire, where small tongues of yellow flame were now licking at the new wood. “We were attacked. Three of our party were slain.”

“Half your party?” Ulithan's brows rose. “By what? Not a catamount.”

Eliani shook her head. “An alben.”

“Kelevon.” Luruthin's voice was bitter.

Ulithan glanced at him, then looked back to Eliani. “An alben who is known to you?”

“Sadly, yes.”

All were silent for a long moment, then Ulithan said softly, “So not all the alben are west of the Ebons.”

Luruthin put down his cup. “No.”

Eliani glanced at him and saw the familiar haunted look in his eyes. He was thinking of Ghlanhras, she knew. She changed the subject.

“Kelevon is—unusual. He suffers the alben's curse, but he does not claim kinship with them. He only recently acquired the hunger.”

Luruthin shook his head. “He is traveling north. That implies he is going to them.”

“He could be returning to the Steppes.”

“There are alben in the north?”

Luruthin made no answer. Eliani glanced at Ulithan. He had a right to know about the upheavals in Fireshore, for they might affect him.

“The alben have taken Ghlanhras. Two hundred warriors or more, led by their ruler, Shalár. We were there when the city fell.”

Ulithan's brows rose. “Shalár? Would she once have been called Shalári?”

Luruthin's head came up sharply. “You knew her?”

Ulithan gazed thoughtfully at him for a moment. “Shalári was a child when the wars began. Her father was head of Clan Darkshore and governor of Fireshore, until he was killed in the war. So she survived?”

Eliani looked at Luruthin. He had drawn up his knees and was resting his chin on them, plainly unwilling to discuss Shalár.

“Apparently.”

Ulithan picked up the pottery jug and offered to pour more tea for Eliani  “I saw a group of alben traveling northward not long ago, though on the west side of the mountains. It must have been Shalári and her warriors.”

Eliani sipped the tea and sighed. She tried to think of something else to talk of, if only to spare Luruthin's feelings. His face had gone grim, and he sat frowning at the fire though she doubted he saw the flames.

Her brow grew warm. She closed her eyes.

Yes, love? I cannot take long, I am in company.

I wanted to ask if all was well. I thought you were troubled, earlier.

I was, but all is well now. I will explain later.

Opening her eyes again, she saw Ulithan watching her. His expression was unreadable, though she thought it was partly curious. He glanced away toward Vanorin, who had risen to his elbows and was blinking at the rabbit fur cloak that lay over him.

Eliani set down her cup and moved to Vanorin's side. “How do you feel?”

He looked up at her with a chagrined smile. “My foot feels somewhat better, and I feel rather a fool.”

“Anyone might have slipped there, in this snow.”

“Hm.”

Vanorin looked around the cave. When his glance fell upon Ulithan his eyes widened and he sat up sharply, wincing a little at the movement. Eliani's hands twitched toward his injured foot, but she kept them back.

“This is Ulithan. He has been kind enough to make us welcome in his home.”

Ulithan nodded in greeting. “I have balmroot, if you would like some for your pain.”

Vanorin stared at him, then glanced at Eliani and seemed to conclude from her manner that Ulithan was no danger. “Thank you, I am well enough for now. You are very good to shelter us.”

Ulithan smiled and offered tea to Vanorin. A gust from the roof crack raised a cloud of sparks from the fire, and Eliani glanced upward. If the storm continued, they might be trapped here for a while.

“Is that a handfasting ribbon?”

She glanced at her arm, where the glints of gold and silver showed at the edges of her bracer. “Yes.”

“Your partner does not travel with you.”

Eliani met Ulithan's gaze. “He is with the army.”

“Ah.”

Ulithan smiled, a little wistfully, she thought, and a tingling of realization passed through her. He had been alone here for centuries. He must not have had a lover in a very long while. Pity moved in her heart, though his isolation had been by choice. Had she not been bound....

Foolish to think that way. She was bound, for life.

And he suffered the curse. Strange how quickly she had almost forgotten that. He reminded her of the Lost in a way, though he was also different. The Lost were always watchful, always cautious. Ulithan must be no less alert, or he would not have survived so long alone, yet he seemed more at ease.