“Because,” she insisted when Sayyed demanded to know why, “we always travel at night. The only reason we left early was to traverse the glen in the daylight. But now we’re out of our territory. Now we rest the horses and travel at night.” And that was that.
Sayyed and Rafnir could only swallow their impatience and wait. The stallions didn’t seem to mind. Sayyed noticed Afer and Tibor had taken a strong liking to the white horses and apparently found something amusing about their company. When asked, though, neither stallion would give a definite answer.
Sayyed scratched his beard and tried to relax. It was not easy. The afternoon wore slowly on while the horses quietly grazed, the warriors dozed, and the insects droned in the undergrowth. Finally Sayyed brought out his tulwar and the special stone he kept solely to sharpen the weapon, and he began to am the stone smoothly along the curved blade. After several strokes, he felt the tingling on the back of his neck he always got when he was being watched, and he looked up into Helmar’s intent gaze. Her eyes sparkled, green and intense, the color of sunlight in deep water. She met his regard with frank interest.
“Are you as good with that blade as you are with magic?” she asked, her voice lightly teasing.
He lifted an eyebrow and kept working. “You have only seen me use one spell, so you cannot know whether I am good or not.”
Beside the chief, flat on his back, Hydan chuckled at the remark.
“If half of what you told us is true, then you must be one of the finest sorcerers in the clans,” she said.
“He is.” Rafnir spoke up from his resting spot by the trunk of a tree.
A hiss of humor escaped Sayyed. “All of what I told you is true,” he said shortly. “Now tell me a truth. Where did your people come from?”
“Over the mountains.” She shrugged. “We have been in Sanctuary for generations.”
“Why did you decide to save us when you learned we were sorcerers?”
“You saved yourselves. We couldn’t very well argue with magic-wielders.”
He grunted. “Where did you learn to speak Clannish?”
“We didn’t know we were until you came along.”
Exasperated, Sayyed put away his stone. He felt as if he were running into walls with every question he asked. Either they had a poor oral tradition, they simply didn’t care about their ancestry or—and Sayyed was more inclined to believe this—they were deliberately concealing a secret they weren’t ready to share.
He shoved his tulwar back in its sheath, crossed his arms, and leaned back against a tree, shutting his eyes to end the conversation. The Clannad would reveal their truths when they wanted, and until then he was not going to beat his head against their walls.
When night came, the troop ate a cold meal and continued across the mountain slopes toward the trail Sayyed and Rafnir had lost in the storm. The two sorcerers quickly acknowledged that the Clannad warriors were quite good at night travel and their horses were sharp-eyed and agile. But the darkness disguised details, drained color, and turned the world to shadow, and even the most seasoned traveler was slowed by night on treacherous paths in the mountain wilderness. Worse yet, the heavy rains of the storm two nights ago had washed out many sections of the trails they were trying to follow, and a huge, muddy landslide blocked one shortcut they tried, forcing them on a long detour out of one valley and up a traverse over a high, spiny ridge before they could find their way to the wagon trail. By dawn they were tired, muddy, and still leagues from the fortress.
When daylight painted the eastern horizon, the Clannad began to look for a place to shelter for the day. Sayyed, though, urged Afer close to Helmar’s mare. “We can’t stop now,” he said bluntly. “Gabria and Kelene have probably been in that fortress almost three days. We have to get them out!”
“And we will,” Helmar replied. “But the horses need a rest and we-—”
“Do not travel in daylight. I know,” he cut her off. “But we don’t have that time to waste.”
“I will not endanger my people for—”
“What is that?” Hydan exclaimed.
All eyes swept to the brightening sky in time to see something large and dark swerve toward them. A shadow swift as a storm cloud raced overhead and plunged out of the dawn light. The white horses neighed a warning.
Hydan’s warrior instincts brought his hands to his bow and an arrow before he stopped to think. In a blur he nocked the arrow, raised the bow, and drew the string to his jaw.
“No!” bellowed Rafnir.
Tibor sprang forward and rammed into Hydan’s horse, knocking the man’s aim askew. The bow dropped, but his fingers released the string, and the arrow sang wildly into the group clustered around Helmar.
In the same second the downdraft from a huge pair of wings swept over the party and blew the shaft farther off course. I found you! trumpeted a Hunnuli voice.
“Demira!” Sayyed shouted in joy. Just as he spoke, the arrow pierced through his arm and into his side. Stunned, he looked down at the shaft that pinned his arm to his ribs, and a sickly smile twisted over his lips. “I knew I should have stayed in Moy Tura,” he said and slowly sagged off Afer to the muddy earth.
Appalled, Helmar, Hydan, and Rafnir slid off their mounts and hurried to Sayyed’s aid. While Tibor joyously welcomed Demira, the warriors carried the sorcerer into a copse of trees and laid him on the cloak Helmar had returned. There was no question now that they would have to stop.
Helmar snapped orders to her riders, and in moments every man and horse was out of sight in several scattered groves of trees. One man was a healer, and under his direction Helmar and Rafnir removed the shaft from Sayyed’s arm. Fortunately that part proved easy enough, for the arrow had pierced straight through the muscle on the back of his upper arm. The difficulty came in removing the arrowhead from his ribs. Demira’s wings had probably saved his life by slowing the arrow, but it still had struck with enough force to wedge between two bones. It took a long while to cut the skin, work the arrow free, and stitch the wounds. Although Helmar and the healer tried to be gentle, by the time they were through Sayyed was drenched with sweat and utterly exhausted. His hand reached out to grip Helmar’s, and he thankfully passed out into healing sleep.
The lady stared down at his hand, still dirty from clenching the earth in his pain, and her fingers tightened around his.
Afer gently nosed her. He will be all right.
“I know,” she murmured.
Rafnir looked up sharply. “What?”
She settled more comfortably beside the clansman, his hand still in hers, and sighed. “Just talking to myself.”
Sleep, the healer’s salves, and a warm meal soon bolstered Sayyed’s constitution. As soon as he could stand without getting dizzy, he insisted on greeting Demira and making much over her return. The mare confirmed Gabria and Kelene were in Zukhara’s fortress, and she told the men the sketchy facts she knew.
“Poisoned!” Sayyed said furiously. “Are you sure?”
That is what Kelene said, Demira replied. She was certain someone had come after them, and she ordered me to leave. Her mental tone still sounded aggrieved. / have looked for you all over these mountains!
Rafnir flung his arms around her neck, and that was all the thanks she needed.
The troop left the trees that night at Sayyed’s insistence, but the loss of blood had left him weaker than he thought, and he could ride only a few hours that night. They stopped again the third day in a woods only a few leagues from the fortress. Sayyed was too tired to argue. Although his impatience pushed him on, his body would not obey. The puncture in his arm was healing well, but riding had pulled the stitches in his side. Blood oozed from his bandages, and the wound looked red and swollen. Sayyed knew he would be no good to Gabria and Kelene if he did not regain his strength, so he ate his food, swallowed a draught provided by the healer, and went to his bed without protest.