Chapter 7 Together, Yet Apart
“PERFECT WEATHER FOR the Fuath.”
Pushing a lock of wet hair out of her eyes, Lara cast Bree a quelling look. “Gods, don’t summon them.”
Her warder snorted. She rode, one hand gripping the reins, the other casually resting upon the pommel of her sword. Bree appeared relaxed, but she wasn’t.
She always had her eye out for trouble.
Lara had intended to do the same, but the day had passed in a strange blur. Just before Bree had spoken, she’d glanced up at the sky, alarm flickering through her when she realized the afternoon was waning. It seemed only moments ago that they’d remounted after a brief noon meal and pushed on.
Where had the time gone?
Curse it. She needed to focus. After all, they’d recently formed an alliance with the Shee.
Mor and her Ravens, and the restless spirit world, weren’t the only things worrying her though.
Alar was. They’d entered the borderlands.
He was two days’ ride away now—and then he’d decide whether they mended the rift in the veil.
She hated giving him any leverage, but they needed him.
How he’d enjoy that. Imagining the smirk on his face made her belly hurt.
How would she suffer his company? She dreaded journeying north with him; just the thought made her break out into a cold sweat.
And then there was Gregor’s desertion. Lara and her escort had searched the nearby pinewood for the chief-sacrificer that night. Mor and her Ravens had even joined them. But Gregor had fled into the darkness on his horse. They didn’t have the time to hunt him; they had to keep pushing forward.
Four days on, her mouth still soured whenever she thought about the sacrificer. Only the evening before, she’d found herself studying Annis, Ren, and Ruari’s faces by the fireside, and wondering if any of them were considering abandoning her.
“Luckily for us, there are no rivers or marshes close by, or I wouldn’t be so confident,” Bree went on, oblivious to her line of thought. “Even flooded fields would make me nervous these days.”
Lara glanced up at the sky. Purple clouds were boiling in from the north, promising worse weather to come.
She too grew nervous when traveling in heavy rain these days.
Last year’s encounter with the bog wights farther up this road still haunted her sometimes.
She remembered the way the water in the marshes had started to bubble, steam lifting from its surface.
Moments later, the bog wights themselves had crawled up onto the road.
Even now, her pulse quickened at the memory of how close she’d come to being taken by one.
Uneasiness skated down Lara’s spine. She’d been on edge all day, but now each sense sharpened. Even the rush of the wind made her jumpy.
“At least the Slew haven’t bothered us in a while,” Bree said then, as if deliberately changing the subject.
“Aye … but that worries me too,” Lara admitted with a frown. “They never usually wait this long between attacks. What if they’re watching us … waiting for something?”
Looking ahead, her gaze rested on the backs of the Ravens who traveled in pairs behind their queen.
She wished to discuss this with Mor, yet the Raven Queen had been aloof of late.
Over the past days, the Shee had led the way while Lara and her escort followed.
They traveled together, yet apart. Of course, the iron they carried unsettled the Shee.
But there was more to it than that. Lara understood that the elks and stags were faster than horses.
Nonetheless, she didn’t like that Mor had made herself the unofficial leader of this band.
She wasn’t. They were equals.
One of the riders ahead turned then. As they looked on, a Shee warrior upon a pale brown stag approached.
Wynn Sablebane’s hood had blown back, his long black hair wet and tangled in the rain.
The sight of him made Lara’s heart kick hard.
Sablebane appeared no older than a Marav of forty winters, which meant he was old by Shee standards.
And today, he reminded her more than ever of his son.
But there was one marked difference. Alar was good at veiling his thoughts, yet his face told a story all the same, whereas his father was impossible to read.
Alar’s smile flashed through her mind then—the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheek dimpled, while his gaze softened.
Her breathing hitched. Hag’s teeth. She couldn’t let herself go to that place. Ever. Again.
“The queen suggests we halt soon, camp on the hillside, and in the morning take a different road to Dulross,” he said, his voice low and flat, with a slight husk to it that reminded Lara once more of Alar. “It’s faster … and we’ll avoid the marshes.”
Lara frowned, even as her pulse quickened. “A different road? Won’t that mean doubling back?” Indeed, they’d passed a crossroads a while ago, and there wasn’t another until much closer to Dulross.
“There’s another path.”
“I’ve traveled this road often and know of no other route nearby,” Cailean muttered.
Sablebane gave him a dismissive look. “That’s because no Marav has ever traveled the Slighe Fraoch.”
A beat of silence followed before Bree spoke. “Mor wants us to take the ‘Heather Path’?”
“Aye. It’s safer.”
Bree scowled. “For Shee maybe … but not Marav.”
Sablebane eyed Bree, his lip curling. “No harm will come to any of you. Just don’t stray from the path … or touch anything … and you’ll all be fine.” He paused and studied Bree’s face intently, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the Shee female she’d once been. “Regretting our choices, are we?”
Bree scowled at him. “No.” Her tone was cutting.
She gave Lara a sharp look then. “The Slighe Fraoch can only be used by Marav by invitation … and even then, Shee magic makes it risky for us. He’s failed to mention that the path is a cruel, twisted mirror …
it shows you the things you don’t want to see.
” Discomfort flickered across Bree’s face.
“The Shee don’t make a habit of traveling their greenways with Marav …
but on the rare occasions they have, some Marav have lost their minds. ”
“Only the weak succumb,” Sablebane replied, his tone dismissive. “Surely, you aren’t afraid to face yourself, Fellshadow?”
Bree stared back at him, her eyes hardening. “No.”
“Good.” He shifted his attention to Lara.
“This way, we’ll avoid any bog wights. It’ll rain for a while longer …
and if we take the low road, we’re likely to draw the Fuath to us.
” Lara and Bree shared a look at this. “Also, time moves against us, and your husband may be difficult to convince. This route will take a day … no longer … and we’ll approach Dulross unseen.
” He paused then, his grey eyes glinting.
“The Half-blood won’t know we’re coming. ”
The small band made camp a few furlongs above the road, on a rocky hillside strewn with purple heather.
They stood under the shadow of the Goatfells now, serrated peaks that pierced the low cloud.
The rain fell steadily as they set about getting a fire lit—not an easy task with The Sweeper slamming into them.
Both Roth and Cailean had brought rolls of hide with them, and so they managed to put up a windbreak and erect an awning of sorts over the fire pit.
But despite working at close quarters, the Shee and Marav didn’t mingle.
Even when they sat around the fire at night, the two races kept to their own sides.
Lara had marked the wary looks the Ravens gave her escort—and in turn, the suspicious way the likes of Cailean and Roth, especially, watched their Shee companions.
“Cnoc-banes dwell in this area, My Queen,” Roth warned as he staked down the hide, even as the wind tried to tear it from his hands. “It wouldn’t be my choice for a campsite … especially with the spirit world as churned up as it is.”
Lara frowned. She then glanced over at where, a few yards away, the Raven Queen looked on while Sablebane drove the chain that secured Dorka into the ground. “Surely, Mor knows that?”
“Maybe she has a way of repelling them.”
“Not likely,” Bree answered. “The Shee avoid cnoc-banes as much as we do.”
Meanwhile, Mor crouched before the snarling feline, the melodious strains of her voice rising and falling with the wind. She was trying to gentle Dorka, as she did every evening while they made camp. As yet, she didn’t appear to be making any headway.
Irritation spiked through Lara as she looked on.
Instead of messing about with that oversized cat, she should have been focusing on ensuring this was a safe campsite.
Over the past days, Lara had noticed that the Mor left such things to her Ravens while she tried to coax the clag-doo into tolerating her.
Dorka hissed then, a large paw raking the air. Mor leaped back just in time to avoid being clawed.
It wasn’t working.
Lara huffed a deep breath. They also needed to discuss how to approach their looming meeting with Alar. Anxiety tightened her belly. She didn’t want to lead the meeting. Mor would have to. The less she spoke to her husband, the better.
Her chief-enforcer approached then, after tethering the horses, Skaal padding along behind him. Lara turned to him. “Cailean … you’ll know. What’s the best way to repel a cnoc-bane?”
Cailean pulled a face. “I’d suggest a ritual where you ask permission to dwell on their hill. Unfortunately, it’s one sacrificers usually perform.”
Lara breathed a curse. The Reaper take Gregor. His absence left them vulnerable to many dangers. Also, without a sacrificer, Cailean wouldn’t be able to replenish his earth magic when the need arose—and it surely would.
“Ren.” She turned to the blue-robed woman digging through a saddlebag behind her. “Can you sing something that will appease them?”
The bard’s brow furrowed. “I will try … in the meantime, I suggest we place some offerings on the highest point of this hill. It should help.”