Chapter 6 #2
He finally let go of my waist, taking the reins in both hands again. The motion was as precise, as deliberate, as the sound of his words – ‘And now you are lying.’
‘I’m not! I—’
‘I should probably warn you at this point,’ he interrupted against the back of my head, voice too soft for the frenzy of our flight – silky, but in the sense of a silk scarf about to wrap around my neck and strangle me.
His arms were a tight cage on either side of me.
‘I have a low tolerance for incompetence, and an even lower tolerance for feigned incompetence. I’m not sure why you insist on treating yourself like some damsel in distress, but it’s damn inconvenient to me – do you expect me to carry the full burden of this madness on your behalf? ’
Inconvenient.
It was a struggle not to wince. It’s no trouble at all, witchling. Really, don’t worry about it. You can’t help it …
‘I just fixed your bloody saddle for you,’ I managed, hearing the hollowness of the defence before it had left my lips. The triumph of that little feat was long gone. ‘Isn’t that enough for you yet?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Even without turning, I could hear that sardonic little smile curl around his lips. ‘The saddle. You’ve definitely earned your fare for the rest of the three-week journey, then.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake – I’m trying to spare you trouble, you pox-ridden bastard!
’ My breath had started shaking. My chest was squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter, and all at once my hands were straining again – did I still have my knives on me?
‘You have no idea of what I can or cannot do, and if you decide to lean on me and I ruin something …’
‘How very noble of you.’ The sarcasm was dripping off his voice. ‘Under those circumstances, it’s of course much wiser to give up and never try again than to make an effort at solidifying your skills. I fully understand.’
Shit. My hand was straying to my hip, the other clinging to the pommel for dear life. Ehwaz. Uruz. Isa—
‘Thinking of stabbing me?’ Durlain sounded unimpressed. ‘I should remind you that you will have to do this all by yourself as soon as I’m bleeding out in the grass.’
I didn’t want to stab him. I just wanted to know I wasn’t losing more than my sanity – Kaunan, Wunjo, Eihwaz, all still where they ought to be, and yet the iron band around my heart wouldn’t give way. Ehwaz. Uruz—
Durlain bit out a curse behind me. ‘Fine. New approach. What if I were to ride south?’
‘What? No!’ My hands faltered with sheer shock. ‘No, that’s ridiculous. You’ll end up on the wrong side of the Sleepers, and then you’d have to ride all around them to—’
‘Oh, look at that,’ he interrupted in a blistering tone. ‘An unexpected surge of geographical knowledge. Wouldn’t it be glorious if you were able to impart more of that upon the occasional request?’
It took a few heartbeats before I realised I’d opened my mouth and failed to get a sound across my lips.
Knowledge. But …
I keep finding you in the strangest places, witchling.
Lark must have had a bloody good reason to take care of the maps and compass on our travels, because as much as he’d reassured me he didn’t mind in the slightest, I knew he didn’t enjoy the task.
And he was the one who’d seen me at work for years, wasn’t he?
Whereas this arsehole behind me was basing himself only on—
Last night’s flight.
When I’d known we were about to ride into the Silver Horn valley.
The midland hills spun before my eyes – wild and windswept and bewilderingly familiar.
We’d almost reached the foot of the slope, where the road split in two – one leg running east, to the town our fireborn rulers called Elenon, and the other running north.
East was the sensible option. The easy option.
But the Svein’s Creek soldiers would only need to ride around the hill to catch up with us …
and I didn’t think we’d be over the next ridge in time for them to lose track of us.
Whereas north …
I closed my eyes for a flash of a moment, dragging in a breath. It wasn’t a map, the image burned on my mind’s eye. It was hundreds upon hundreds of memories, patched together to form the shape of the kingdom I’d traversed over and over again in the last seven years … and all of a sudden, I knew.
As if the answer was truly obvious.
‘Ride for the Moon Lake,’ I said, the words rushing from my mouth. ‘Do you know where to find it? Big white crater lake with—’
‘I know where the Moon Lake is,’ Durlain interrupted sharply, steering Smudge to the north as if to demonstrate the fact. She broke into a gallop, down the last yards of the hill and onto the deserted road. ‘Nowhere near Elenon, for a start.’
‘Which is the whole point.’ Had he been kinder about his scepticism, I might have backed down.
The biting questioning, though, moments after he’d informed me I was supposed to stop doubting myself – he could fuck all the way off with that.
‘If we ride north, they’ll assume we’re making for Kar’s Stone – Carenne, I mean.
So then all we need to do is vanish quietly from the road … ’
He didn’t slow us down. ‘How?’
‘There’s a path beneath the waterfall. Leads into a valley that runs to the southeast, straight back to—’
‘Elenon,’ he finished under his breath.
And that almost, almost sounded like a sliver of … respect?
It did unnerving things to my stomach, that undertone. It made the warmth of his chest all the more unbearable, the press of his thighs against my hips.
‘Assuming the tunnel isn’t blocked or flooded,’ I still couldn’t help but add, because those were things Lark would have said, and they would have been valid, sensible things to point out. ‘It’s been a while since I last saw it, and it’s been a wet spring, so—’
Durlain’s laugh was bitter against the crown of my head. ‘I’ll take a flooded tunnel over Aranc Estien every day of my life.’
Not that fond of risks, then.
I should have been frightened out of my mind. I should have shuddered when the horns blared behind us and we bolted northward at lightning speed, staking our safety on my memories, on my desperate advice.
Instead …
Instead, more than anything else, I found myself feeling grimly satisfied that the cold-blooded murderer behind me at least cowered for something.
We reached the Moon Lake by early afternoon – the crater of an old, sleeping volcano that no member of the Estien family had decided to wake yet, filled with gathered rainwater.
Minerals had turned the lake a chalky, milky white.
Beneath the pearly grey afternoon sky, the surface was almost blinding; when we came across the ridge of the adjoining, higher hill, I was forced to squeeze my eyes until my pupils had adjusted.
Behind us, we’d caught sight of our pursuers every once in a while. They were still beyond the previous peak now – far enough behind us to give us time to disappear before they came into view again.
Hopefully.
‘We can ride until the waterfall,’ I said, determined not to waste time even though every fibre of me was screaming at me to reconsider this madness. ‘You’ll want to go by foot from there. Path is pretty slippery.’
Durlain didn’t respond as he spurred Smudge back into motion.
Small creeks ran from the edge of the crater down the hillside, joined by those streaming down from adjoining peaks.
The waterfall pouring over a sharp precipice below was not as massive as the one that fed into the Silver Horn river – but so soon after winter, with the cold of the frost in the ground and the spring rains falling in abundance, the water tumbled down in a sparkling, misty spray that shrouded the surrounding rockface in pale rainbows.
From this side, it did not look as though it could be hiding a cave.
Durlain didn’t ask the questions he should have asked.
We rode down the steep, winding path until we reached the bridge spanning the Moon River.
There we dismounted and began walking up along the banks, towards the silvery cascade.
The path wasn’t even a path, exactly – more of a trail of uneven rocks, and I was quietly grateful that Smudge was trained as well as the mounts from Aranc’s stables had been.
I knew more than a few horses who’d have patently refused to continue.
By the time we reached the veil of water, the fronts of my coat and tunic were soaked, my hair plastered to my shoulders in damp white strands.
Trouble for later. I’d ridden full days in wet clothes before, and catching a little cold was vastly preferable to finding myself the centre of one of Aranc’s savage parties …
so I gritted my teeth and clambered on, past the frothing plunge pool the waterfall had worn into the stone over the course of centuries, then onto the ledge that led behind it.
It wasn’t narrow, but it was slippery, and I knew better than to look over my shoulder as I took my first steps onto the gleaming black stone. My boots were getting drenched as well. I could feel the first wetness seeping through my socks; it wouldn’t be long until I was sopping at every step.
Trouble for later, too.
There, finally, was the cave entrance.
I slipped in, blinking against the shadows, tiptoeing away from the deafening roar of the water.
The clatter of hooves behind me told me Smudge – and, presumably, her rider – were following.
Still, it seemed to take ages until they finally caught up with me – Durlain’s steps inaudible, the sudden snort of a horse beside me all that betrayed their nearness.
In the little light that filtered through the milky white waterfall behind us, his silhouette was a sharp, looming shape.
‘How in the world,’ he muttered, words echoing slightly in the darkness, ‘did you ever find this place?’
I should have prepared for that question.
I winced all the same.
‘Just work,’ I said, voice too feeble for the attempt at nonchalance to sound at all convincing. ‘You know. Playing Aranc’s messenger bird.’
He arched up an eyebrow. ‘Ah. Delivering the sort of messages that come with broken legs to the highland locals?’
‘Well. Yes.’ That was too curt. I didn’t want to think about snapping bones and burnings roofs and— Fuck, about any of it.
Hurriedly, I went on, ‘Most people have an inkling they’re in trouble before the birds come for them, so they tend to hide in the deepest, darkest hole they can find.
Which usually meant we had to find the holes as well. ’
‘And someone hid here?’
‘Other side of the valley.’ I managed a shrug despite the memories squeezing cold around my chest. ‘And then I wandered into this place after we were done, and Lark found the tunnel when he had to come after me.’
I keep finding you in the strangest places, witchling …
There was no response this time.
When I glanced to the side, Durlain was watching me with a hint of puzzlement on his face – as if I’d just informed him one and one equalled five.
‘What?’ I said sharply.
‘Nothing.’ But that tight, pensive line at his jaw didn’t soften as he turned away, eye narrowing at the dark of the cave ahead. ‘Could you make some light again? I’m not warm enough to get a decent fire going.’
I scoffed, shaping dagaz, then sowilo, so that the kernel of daylight bloomed in my palm. ‘Making me do all the work now?’
His murder smile twitched back into place. ‘You’re so very lucky I need you alive, Thraga.’
And on that happy note, we began our walk down the winding tunnel.