At the crest of the height, profiled against the sky, no more than a long bowshot away, stood Hweilan.
Losir laughed. "Looks like we get to take all three back after all."
He issued an order and several of the hunters ran forward. Lendri had killed both tigers, so Menduarthis half-hoped Hweilan might run. If her luck held, she might get away.
But no. She simply stood there, watching them come.
Menduarthis watched, sick at heart, as the two elves and four uldra escorted her down. They didn't net or bind her, or even take her weapons. Just kept their spears at her back or naked swords in hand.
Hweilan stepped among the hunters, and Menduarthis saw that she was not well. She was trembling and squinted as if the light hurt. Her jaw clenched and she did not even look at Menduarthis or Lendri as her captors brought her before Losir.
The eladrin chuckled. "I must admit, you do surprise, girl. You were free. Why come back?"
Hweilan did not meet his gaze. "Let them go. Both of them. Let me go. Do it quick and run. Fast as you can. Heed me, and I think you might have time to get away."
Losir threw his head back and laughed. "Get away? From you?"
She did look up then, and Menduarthis saw the gleeful fury in her eyes. "No."
Several of the Ujaiyen cried out and pointed.
"Now what? "said Losir.
Menduarthis looked up.
A figure was coming over the rise. Not running, but approaching in a steady unwavering gait. Pale skin. Long hair tossed by the wind. For a moment, Menduarthis thought it might be some of Lendri's kin come to rescue him. But no. They were all gone, weren't they?
And then he drew close enough for Menduarthis to make out the details. He felt his blood frost at the sight.
It was that pale warrior. The Frost Folk. The one Menduarthis had most assuredly killed back in the Feywild.
"This is your plan?" said Losir, and he looked on Hweilan with disdain. "We hunt Frost Folk for fun. Whole clans of them. This one will be no more than a distraction."
He said something to his hunters in his own language, then drew his sword and stepped forward to meet the newcomer.
The pale warrior only glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on Hweilan. Now that he saw her, he increased his pace, coming swiftly down the slope.
Losir stepped in front of him and brandished his blade. He said something that Menduarthis did not catch, then attacked.
Losir was a fine swordsman, Menduarthis knew. One of the best among the Ujaiyen. But perhaps he was in no mood to play. Or perhaps at the last moment he sensed something amiss and chose a simple attack-one quick thrust between the ribs, aimed to skewer the heart.
The pale warrior turned his gaze on Losir, locked one fist around the eladrin's sword arm, and twisted. They were at least a hundred feet away, but still Menduarthis heard the bone snap like a dry branch. Losir shrieked and went down. The pale warrior drew the sword out of his own chest, bent down, and lopped off Losir's other arm. He picked it up in his other hand and stepped over Losir, who kicked and screamed on the ground as his lifeblood poured out.
The Ujaiyen charged.
All but two. One elf who stood guard over Lendri and one uldra over Menduarthis.
Their attention was focused on the fight. The elf never saw Hweilan step up behind him and bring the hilt of her dagger down on the top of his head. He flopped to the ground like wet dough.
The other uldra cried out and flicked his arm, uncoiling his whip. He charged her, swinging the weapon in swipe after swipe. Hweilan danced out of the way-the girl was good on her feet-but each strike was coming closer.
Menduarthis squirmed and struggled, but he only succeeded in tightening his bonds and losing more skin.
Snarling, Lendri thrashed and threw off his bindings.
Little bastard chewed through the ropes, Menduarthis said to himself.
He had. His teeth had gone long and sharp, his fingers curled into claws, and his hair was thickening around his face and shoulders.
One look, and the uldra fled.
Hweilan ran to Menduarthis. Lendri was right behind her, and by the time they knelt beside him, he was fully an elf again. She handed Lendri her other knife, and the two set about cutting away the vines.
Menduarthis hissed through his teeth. "Careful! Some of those thorns are caught in more than cloth."
Lendri looked up to the battle. Menduarthis saw his eyes widen, and he gave Hweilan back the knife.
"Back the way we came," said Lendri. "Over that northern rise and down in to the next valley. Once you cross the river-frozen most likely-you should be safe. Get him free and go!"
"Where are you going?" Hweilan and Menduarthis said at the same time.
"To buy you some time," he said, and bounded off.
Menduarthis looked the way he had gone. The pale warrior brought his sword down, killing the elf who held the shaft of the spear piercing the warrior's gut. The eladrin went down and did not move. The rest of the Ujaiyen-the few survivors whose corpses were not littering the slope-were disappearing over the hill.
"Forget the thorns," said Menduarthis. "Just cut, girl. Cut!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dozens of tendrils of vine and thorns still clung to Menduarthis, but once he could move again, they were on their feet and running. He picked at the tighter creepers and smaller thorns around his hands as they ran.
Hweilan looked back.
A huge wolf snapped at the pale warrior, raking at his legs then bounding away. Each time the warrior would pursue, the wolf bounded off. The warrior would break off the chase and continue after Hweilan, and the wolf would charge in again.
"Go! Toward the river!" said Menduarthis. "Once we're away, he'll follow."
Knowing Menduarthis was right, Hweilan turned and ran. She was utterly exhausted. When had she last slept? In the Feywild, and that hadn't been a rest so much as a mental pummeling by the queen. But her fear and desperation lent strength to her limbs. She knew in her heart that the thing didn't care for Lendri in the least. The wolf was only an obstacle in his way. The best thing she could do to help Lendri right now was to get away.
But just before they crossed a bend in the hill, she heard the wolf let out a yelp of pain. She turned. Less than a quarter mile away, the pale warrior was headed straight for her. The wolf lay motionless on the frost-covered rocks behind him.
"Lendri!" she screamed. "No!"
"Run!" Menduarthis pulled her along.
They did, rounding the bend in the trail and losing sight of the pale warrior. They kept going, and when the thing next came in sight, he was much closer. Despite the broken spear shaft still protruding from his midsection and the gaping sword wound in his ribs, he was running.
"Up here!" said Menduarthis, and he tried to pull Hweilan up a narrow trail. She saw that it wound up the arm of the mountain to a cliff overlooking their present trail.
"No!" she pulled back. "That isn't the way."
He grabbed her again and shoved her before him. "I know. I have an idea."
Their path ended at the cliff. Before them an old rockslide had collapsed the rest of the trail into the valley, which was a dizzying distance below them.
"A wonderful idea you had," said Hweilan.
She looked back. The pale warrior was still coming. He'd be on them in moments. She gripped her bow tight and pulled Lendri's knife.
"None of that," said Menduarthis, and he pulled her to him in a tight embrace.
She struggled and pounded his chest with the handle of her knife. "What are you-?"
"No one likes a coward. Trust me."
And then she knew what he had in mind.
"Oh, gods," she said.
The air hit them, swirling tighter and tighter, taking them in an embrace of storm that drowned out all other sound. Hweilan squeezed her eyes shut.