The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 45
Annis fixed her with a glare, but her brimming tears robbed it of any bite. “I do not fawn, but otherwise you are right. He has never looked at me … in that way. I keep hoping to see it in his eyes, the way I see it when Chet looks at you. He looked that way from the first moment I met him, and I was there as the two of you fell deeper and deeper into love. It was effortless.”
“Of course it was, you great fool,” said Loren gently. “Chet and I have known each other our entire lives. He loved me even before I left the forest, before I met you. Everyone is different. Every love is different. He never told me how he felt, for he never needed to. But he is not Gem, and you are not me. So free yourself from both our misery, and speak to him.”
Annis’ eyes shone, but not with tears. “You are right,” she said, quiet as a prayer. “I will. I will tell him. And I will tell him that if he does not return from Yewamba, I will storm in there and drag him out myself.”
Loren laughed. “Good. Then go.”
The girl shot to her feet, but paused when Loren remained sitting. “Are you not coming?”
“I will in a moment,” said Loren. “But my feet are enjoying the water too much. I wish to relax a little while longer, for I think I shall not have another chance in some time.”
Annis smiled at her and set off into the trees. Loren face fell the moment the girl’s back was turned, and she looked down at her feet as they dangled in the stream.
He loved me even before I left the forest.
Loren had said the words without thinking. But why had she not said We loved each other?
She loved Chet—she knew that she did. But she had known for some time, in the back of her mind, that it was not the same as his love for her. If it were, she could never have manipulated him so easily on the day she left her home. If it were, she would not think of Niya the way she did now—and the proof of that could be found in Weath. Weath and Chet had become fast friends, and Loren could see how attractive the woman was, with her short copper hair and lithe, supple figure. Loren could remember one or two occasions when Chet’s gaze had lingered upon her a moment longer than was proper.
Yet never once had Loren suspected that Chet might harbor any intent towards Weath beyond friendship. But Chet seemed to have more than an inkling of the connection between Loren and Niya. It made him jealous, and no matter how Loren denied it, she knew it was for good reason.
Even now, Loren could not stop thinking of how easy it would be to secretly draw Niya out of the camp. They could be alone for one night. Mayhap the last night of both their lives.
What had she told Annis? You worry that if he does not return, then you will never have told him how you feel.
The same could be said for Loren herself. Always she had denied what she felt for Niya, no matter how the Mystic goaded her. And now she had told Annis to be bold, to act as fear had always prevented her from acting before. Yet she would not do the same, even though she might never have another chance.
She remembered her heated argument with Niya just two nights before. Again she saw Niya standing just before her, almost pressed against her. When her mind played across it, the memory of the woman’s scent flooded her nostrils.
A stone lay by Loren’s hand. She picked it up and flung it hard into the water, where it broke the surface with a loud plop.
“Darkness take the woman,” she muttered. “And darkness take me as well.”
She drew her feet from the water and pulled her boots on, making her way slowly back to camp.
SLEEP DID NOT COME TO Loren for a long time. Chet had rolled over into the corner of the tent before she entered, and he did not move as she undressed and crawled beneath their blanket. She rolled back and forth, trying to get comfortable and drift off. There was a lump beneath the tent, and she kept trying to shift around it to find flat ground again. But at last she had to admit that the lump was only an excuse, for she had slept on far worse terrain during her journeys.
“Close your eyes, woman,” grumbled Chet.
Loren sighed. “I am not the only one who cannot sleep, then.”
He turned over, and in the pale moonslight through the tent, she saw his eyes glinting. “Of course I cannot sleep. I am terrified of what tomorrow could bring. Do you not feel the same way?”
“I suppose so,” she said with a shrug. “But on the other hand, I am somewhat used to that feeling.”
“If that were true, sleep would come easy. Yet I think I understand your meaning. I do not feel as though I should be frightened. I was there for the fall of Northwood, and you and I faced Rogan more than once. I was there when assassins came for the Lord Prince, and I was in the battle on the Seat. Yet somehow this feels different.”
“It is different,” said Loren. “All of those times were a surprise. The danger came from nowhere, and then it ended. This might be the first time you have planned to march into mortal peril.”
Chet snickered. “I suppose that is right enough.”
Loren felt herself relax at his laugh. She had not heard it in some time. Cautiously she scooted closer to him, and he did the same, placing his head on her shoulder. She curled her arm around him, fingers idly stroking his arm, and he laid a hand across her stomach. The feeling of his skin loosened her taut muscles even more. It felt natural between them again. It felt right. Suddenly the doubts she had had upon the bank of the stream faded away, and they seemed silly in her memory. This was how it had been when she first came to know that she loved him—beneath the boughs of the Birchwood, and then when their trysts began upon the Seat.
Then she remembered Niya, and the light in the woman’s eyes when they looked at her. Comfort fell away, and she felt like a fraud with Chet in her arms.
“Chet, you have not been wrong about Niya,” she said quietly. “I know you have suspected her for some time. And I dismissed it, but I should not have. Niya would have me, if she could. She has said as much, subtly and in ways that were less so.”
He was still for a while, and then he pushed himself up on his elbow. In the midst of his silhouette, his eyes searched hers. “And? What came of it?”
“Nothing,” said Loren. But then she realized that that was not strictly true. “She kissed me. Twice. In Dahab.”
She could feel him tense. “You … why would you—”
“I did not,” said Loren quickly. “She did it without asking.”
He pushed himself up still farther. “What? Loren, that is only a step away from taking someone against their will, from breaking the High King’s harshest law.”
“That is not the way of it,” said Loren. “I know how it must sound, but … do you remember the first time we kissed, on the shores of Dorsea, just before we sailed for the Seat?”
“Of course,” he said quietly. “That memory will never fade.”
“I did not ask you before I kissed you,” said Loren.
“Yet you knew,” he said. “You knew I loved you.”
“How? You had never said the words, nor had I. We had never spoken of it at all. And when we began to—that is, when we became …” She flushed, and wondered if the moonslight would reveal it. “Even when we did more than kiss, we did not speak of it then. You told me you loved me for the first time just before we left the Seat. We had shared a bed for weeks before then.”
He thought about that for a moment. But then he shook his head. “I do not understand, Loren. You knew my desires, and I knew yours. And so the only way I can think that what Niya did was no crime, is if she also knew your desires, and she was right.”
She stared up at him. Shame burned in her breast, but she did not look away.
“I see,” he said quietly. He began to turn away, to roll towards his side of the tent again.
“Stop, Chet,” said Loren, pulling him back. “I do not want to be with Niya.”
“You just said otherwise. So what is the truth?”
“The truth is that I am here. With you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes. Yes, I would lay with Niya if it were not for you.”
It thrilled her to say it out loud. Her skin rose to gooseflesh at the words, and she grew quick of breath. But then she raised a hand to cup his cheek.
“But that is something I would merely enjoy. A momentary pleasure, like drinking a cup of wine. Between such a fancy and what I want—what I truly desire—a wide gulf stretches. Much would have to change in this world before I would attempt to leap it.”
He did not answer for a moment. Loren realized she was holding her breath, and slowly she let it out. And then, when he spoke, she heard a small smile in his voice.
“So you do not fancy me, then?”
She gave a frustrated growl and slapped his arm. “Be silent, you idiot. I love you, Chet. I will not lay with anyone else, but that does not mean I can promise I will never have desires. Can you tell me, in truth, that you have never thought of another? Mayhap Weath?”
“Anyone can see that she has a fine figure,” said Chet. “But there my thoughts remain. I will never lay with her.”
“And I will never lay with Niya,” said Loren. “It is not precisely the same, for I feel a way about her that you do not feel towards Weath. But I have chosen love over desire. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” he whispered. “I only wish that my love was enough for you. That it did not leave you wanting another, or feeling this deep need to pursue the aims of the High King.”
“That is another matter entirely, and you know it.”
“Of course it is, but it comes from the same place in your heart. I believe you when you say you will be true. Yet even so, I am not enough. There is your quest—your mission. Can you not give that up for me as well?”
“No,” she said flatly. “And you should not ask it of me. Not if you love me in truth.”
He paused to consider that. “I understand your sense of duty,” he said at last. “It is a quality I admire, in others as well as yourself. It is only that I do not see anything for you beyond this war. If I were in your position, I might do the same as you have done. But always I would dream of a quiet home in the woods, where I might spend my days after the war—if indeed it becomes a war at all. Do you want that, Loren?”
“I do not know. It sounds fine enough, I suppose. But when I think of it, I do not feel the yearning for it that is plain in your voice.”
“That is what I thought,” he said, sighing. “Is there even a time after the war, in your mind? And what do you see there?”
She sat up, and he rose from his elbow to sit beside her. She took his hands into her own and traced a finger along the back of his hand. “I have no easy answer for you. I cannot say what I know you want me to say. How can I know what the distant future holds when I cannot even know what will happen to you and me tomorrow? But right now, I love you. And your love is dearer to me than any honor the High King could bestow. Can that be enough? At least for now?”
He turned his hand over to grasp hers, and lifted it to his mouth to kiss her fingers one by one. “It can,” he murmured.
Loren kissed him, and they lay down again together, still and content. Soon she was asleep, a dreamless sleep more sound than any she had had since leaving Ammon.
UZO WENT ABOUT THE CAMP to wake them all before dawn. One by one they came out of their tents and stood stretching in the crisp air. Loren caught herself looking at each of her companions. Often they returned her gaze, but no one spoke a word.
They were silent, too, as they readied themselves for the journey. The Mystics buckled their swords at their waists and donned their shirts of chain. Loren left her bow—Albern’s gift—for it would be of little use in the fortress, and only by terrible misfortune would she need it before then. Niya had her sword and a brace of knives at her belt. She caught Loren staring and winked. Loren smiled and shook her head.
Annis rose to see them off, though of course she would not be coming with them. Loren noticed at once that Annis and Gem would hardly look at each other, and each flinched when the other spoke. They kept a wide distance between themselves as well. Loren groaned inwardly. Whatever Annis had told Gem the night before, it did not appear to have gone well. But she could waste little thought on that now. She would have to ask what happened after their journey to Yewamba, if indeed there was an afterwards in which they could speak with each other.
She went to Midnight just before they left and stroked the mare’s muzzle. “You will be safe here,” she said. “If I do not return, I am sorry, but that only means you will belong to Annis. You like her.”
Midnight blew a wet snort into Loren’s face, making her laugh.
Shiun led them from the camp and into the jungle. They paused at the mouth of the valley while she went ahead to search it, making sure no new guards had been posted there since last they came. She soon returned to wave them on. The sky had only just begun to turn grey.
For a long while she led them on the same path they had taken the last time, but when she reached the place where they had seen the guards, she took them in another direction—right instead of left, up the face of the northern ridge rather than the south. Loren wondered at the change, but she did not speak. Shiun had been out all day scouting the path, and the woman was like an Elf in the woods, silent and sure. She would not lead them astray.
At one point they stopped dead, and Shiun gestured them into a crouch. Loren looked around for the reason, and then she saw two forms moving a little bit below them on the ridge. They wore the green cloaks of Yerrins, and they appeared to be eating. Shiun turned to Loren and leaned close, whispering into her ear.
“Do we remove them now?”
Loren blinked at her. “Remove …?”
Niya pressed forwards, her breath hot on Loren’s cheek. “We may have to escape at great speed. Every guard we kill on the way in is one we will not have to fight on the way out.”
“No,” said Loren. “When are the patrols replaced? Do you know?” Shiun shook her head. “Then we could raise the alarm while we are still inside, and not even know it. The family Yerrin prides themselves on not killing needlessly—we should endeavor to do the same.”
Shiun glanced over Loren’s shoulder. From the corner of her eye, Loren saw Niya shrug. Shiun turned away without a word and pressed on.
The grey had lightened considerably when they reached the base of Yewamba’s sudden cliffs. Dawn’s approach filled them all with urgency. The route up looked to be a difficult one, but Loren knew from long experience that climbing up would be much easier than climbing down.
Their path began to wind back and forth, and Shiun would pause every few moments to check that the rocks gave her another path up. But then they reached the top of the slope, and it turned into a sheer wall at least thirty paces high.
“Where do we go from here?” said Loren.
“Up,” said Shiun, arching an eyebrow.
“That is why you brought me,” Weath said, smiling. She stepped forwards and pulled off her leather gloves. Her eyes began to glow. “I may not be much of an alchemist, but I am an alchemist.”
She put forth her hand at about the height of her knee, and her fingers sank into the rock like it was made of water. Soon she had carved a little depression there, and she placed her foot inside it. She made another for the other foot, and then she reached up to create her handholds. Hand over hand and foot over foot she began to climb, creating new handholds each time.
“Sky above,” whispered Gem. “I would have given much to have known a girl like her when I was the best thief in Cabrus.”
Niya snorted. “I will go next,” she growled.
“I will follow,” said Loren. “Then Gem, Chet, and Shiun. You can cover our rear best with the bow.”
Shiun nodded. Niya was already climbing up just behind Weath, gripping each handhold almost as soon as the alchemist’s foot left it. Loren came after her as soon as there was room, and soon the whole group was on the cliff face, making their way slowly up, like ants ascending the leg of a table.
The sun rose at last while they were halfway up, and eastern light poured upon them from the left. Loren paused for a moment to look back down. Yewamba’s little valley was in view, but nothing beyond, for the mountains blocked the landscape from sight. It was the very reason Yewamba was so well hidden. She could not see any guards from her vantage point, and she hoped that none looked their way, for surely they could not miss the sight of five small figures crawling their way up the light grey stone of the cliff.
A wind had begun to blow. Loren shivered and reached up for the next handhold.
Just then, Niya’s foot slipped from the wall. She gave a grunt as she slid down, reaching desperately for something to hold on to. With no time to think, Loren braced her feet and reached up to try and halt Niya’s fall. It did little to slow her, but Niya gripped a handhold in time, stopping with a jolt. Loren realized suddenly that her hand was on Niya’s rear.
The Mystic looked down at her with a savage grin. “Time for that later, Nightblade. We are working.”
“Get on with it,” said Loren, removing her hand. She looked down towards Chet, trying to send him a silent apology. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. She hoped that meant he was not upset.
Looking up again, she realized they had finally neared the top. Weath was already out of sight over the wall, and Niya was scrambling over as well. They all quickened their pace, Loren nearly leaping from handhold to handhold, and Gem following so fast that his fingers scraped on her boot more than once. But just before she reached the lip, Loren heard a muffled cry and the scuff of leather boots on stone.
We are discovered, she thought. A moment’s panic seized her as she wondered if she should keep going. But then she realized Weath and Niya were in danger, and she lunged up—only to recoil again, as a body sailed over her head and fell into the open air. She caught a glance of it—and saw Weath’s pale face, her red hair fluttering, bone jutting from her neck. In silence the Mystic fell, and in silence struck the rocks far, far below, too far away to hear the impact.
