"Ah, gods," said the Creel. He pointedly looked away from Soran and up at Kadrigul. "Th-thank you. Oh, thank you."
"Don't thank me," said Kadrigul.
Soran threw away the last vine and buried his teeth in the man's throat. The Creel kicked and screamed. But not for long. Soran savaged the man's throat like a tiger on a deer. Blood sprayed. The sight of it, Kadrigul could take. But the sound of Soran gulping it down like a deprived drunkard turned his stomach.
Kadrigul turned away. He walked over to the elf, lying on his back near his dead companion. Both his arms hung at crooked angles, and the elf was weeping with the pain.
Behind him, Kadrigul heard breaking bone and tearing flesh. The elf cried out and shut his eyes. Kadrigul wasn't sure if it was from terror or pain. Probably both.
When Soran joined them, he had the Creel's heart in one bloody fist and was still chewing from where he'd bitten a large chunk. Most of the wounds on his face and hands were gone. With his other hand, he removed the sword from his midsection, spraying the prone elf with dark, stinking blood, then threw the blade away.
"I feel much better," said Soran. He took another bite from the heart, chewed, and swallowed.
The elf cried out something in his own language.
Wincing at the pain from his many cuts, Kadrigul knelt beside him and said, "Now. You are going to tell us where the girl is."
The patrol had still not returned. Jijoku, whose task it was to remain by the portal and watch, had expected them long ago. After the capture of the exile and the girl, the Ujaiyen had suspected there might be more lurking in the valleys. The Nar never came close to their hills. Where two mortals did come, there were sure to be more. No one came that close to their lands unless they were up to something. So the Ujaiyen had continued their hunt.
But they should have been back by now.
The storm's fury had begun shortly after dawn. Jijoku relished the fresh cold and the beauty that the snowfall brought to his home. But it was falling so heavily now that he could no longer see the portal.
If it had just been Jijoku's brothers and the tiger, it might have not been so worrisome. The uldra often reveled in their hunts too long when game-two-legged or four-legged-was plentiful. But the eladrin Amarhan and Teirel had been leading the company. They were never late.
Unless they'd found something.
"They should have been back by now," Jijoku muttered to himself.
It was snowing even harder. He'd waited longer than he should have. A sentry who could no longer see what he was supposed to be watching wasn't much of a sentry. Time to move.
Jijoku retrieved his spears and hopped down from the outcropping of rocks where he'd been hiding. His bare feet had no trouble finding traction in the snow as he hopped and slid down the incline.
Even as the ancient tree, bowed over as if forever frozen in the wind, came back into sight, Jijoku thought he saw the last of telltale shimmer fading from its branches. Had something just come through?
He gripped his spears-one ready in one hand, two held loosely in the other-and advanced more cautiously.
Something was leaning against the bole of the ancient tree. It didn't move of its own accord, but the gusting wind caused something to ripple. Some sort of fabric.
Jijoku raised his spear and approached.
It was Amarhan. Both of his arms hung at twisted angles that made Jijoku wince. The eladrin's eyes were wide with panic, and he panted like a deer brought to ground by wolves.
Amarhan's eyes locked on Jijoku, and his mouth moved.
Jijoku stepped closer. "What?"
"Run!" Amarhan gasped.
Jijoku turned in time to see the sword descending. Then he saw no more.
"No," Kadrigul said, as he knelt to clean his sword. "Don't."
Soran emerged from the swirling snow like a ship through a storm.
"Are there more guards?" Kadrigul asked him.
"Not anymore." Soran closed his eyes and leaned his head back, like a man might bask in the sun. A smile spread across his lips, but it was the most inhuman thing Kadrigul had ever seen. No joy. Not even malice. Just the pulling of lips back over the teeth.
"You can sense her again?" said Kadrigul.
"Oh, yes. She burns like sun's first light. So much brighter here."
Kadrigul scowled. He had no idea what that meant. "You can find her? You're certain?"
"Quite certain," said Soran.
Kadrigul stood and walked over to the eladrin. They wouldn't be needing him any longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I'm Not Leaving Without My Fathers Bow," said Hweilan.
Menduarthis frowned. The warm light from the hearth fire burned low, setting a flamelike halo around his hair. But the blue light from the goblet on the table lit his pale face, setting his eyes and the folds of his frown in deep shadows. All in all, it gave him a maniacal aspect.
"Hmm," he said. "That could be difficult, I'm afraid. I may be the queen's hound, but Roakh is her main meddler. Your things are with him."
"Then we go see Roakh."
"You think he's just going to hand over your things?"
"We ask nicely," said Hweilan. "If he refuses, we take them. Less than nicely if necessary."
"You're ready to cross that bridge?" Menduarthis said. "Once you do, there's no coming back."
"I'm not leaving without my father's bow. It's all I have left of him."
"You have your blood. If you rouse the queen's ire, she'll take that as well."
"Not without a fight."
Menduarthis watched her in silence. She returned his gaze without flinching.
"How far are you prepared to go?" he asked.
"As far as necessary."
"Have you ever killed anyone before, Hweilan? I mean a person-not a beast, not something intended for your table."
She remembered her first day on the run. The Creel chasing her down. The fear and anger in the man's voice-Face me! Come out and If she tried, she could still feel the shock going up her arms as she plunged her knife into the man's throat. She had killed him. No doubt.
But that had been different. The man had been hurting her, and she'd struck out. This would be different. This would be going after what she wanted and being faced with the stark reality of killing whoever got in her way.
"Are you a killer, Hweilan?" Menduarthis asked.
"Not… not like this," she said. "But I have to start some time."
Menduarthis donned the armor he had worn the first time she'd seen him then donned a blue cloak over it. Had his wild, black hair not spoiled the image, he would have looked every inch the prince.
He disappeared into the hallway again and returned with a large bundle. Fresh clothes for Hweilan. Not the leather and animal hides Lendri had provided for her, but fine clothing of an excellent cut. The material felt soft as fine linen over her skin, but it was thick as tent cloth and, he assured her, would keep her warm. Loose trousers and tunic, a jerkin that fell past her hips, all a dark gray that would fade into shadows, snow, and stone. Over that a sort of sleeveless robe with a deep cowl, rimmed in fur, all black, as were the belt, gloves, and boots he gave her. And over that a thick cloak made from the white fur of some animal. He even had the grace to turn his back while she changed.
"How do I look?" she asked when all was done.
"You don't look like you," he said, "and that's the important thing. Keep the hood up, and you'll pass a casual glance for one of the eladrin. Just pretend everyone is beneath you. Also very eladrin."