Stroud and Auric rejoined the others several hours later. Liandra and the rest had followed a divergence around the stony cliffs, until the mountain side had smoothed out, and the stones had made way for sparsely dotted trees once more. At the edge of the trees, just off the path, they waited, and it wasn’t long before the two men came tramping down the side of the mountain, bruised and cut. They hid their pain well, but Liandra knew it had been a difficult fight. It heartened her to see them again at all, Auric anyway, who walked with a touch of a limp.
Stroud was indecisive, and it was not a difficult guess as to why. Perhaps he was planning something already, a scheme to hand her over to her father. She had considered touching him, reading his thoughts, but did not think that she had reached that level of desperation. Either way, she would have to keep her eye on him.
Mother rushed to Auric and Stroud, kicking gray dust off the stony ground. After a moment, Father Fairwell followed her. They investigated the two men's wounds quickly, offered them shoulders to lean against. Both men shrugged off the help, and rejoined the others on their own.
Beecham and McJames sat on the ground. McJames put a piece of bread in Beecham’s hand, helped him lift his arm up to his mouth. Liandra worried for the young soldier. His gait had slowed in the last little while, their overall slowing with it. It was clear his wounds were starting to take their toll, and with his vision getting worse, he had to be helped along the path, lest he bump into a tree or trip on a stone.
“Who was that man? Did you…take care of him?” Mother asked, once Auric and Stroud had sat down next to the others, and taken a moment to catch their breath.
“We didn’t kill him, no, if that’s what you’re asking. Auric let him go,” Stroud said, his voice dripping with disdain.
“I was sure he would try to kill you,” Mother said.
“Oh, he tried,” Stroud said, with a joyless grunt of a laugh.
Mother turned to Auric, her brow knitted. “He tried to kill you, and you let him go? Why would you do that?”
Auric grunted, dismissed the question. “He won’t be after us again any time soon.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Auric’s voice held a sharp tone, one that surprised Liandra. He looked up, shot Mother a fiery glare. “He’s wounded enough. He knows we’ll best him if he tries again.”
“Are you certain? You’re both wounded, too.”
Liandra looked at the cut on Stroud’s upper arm. She saw a similar one on Auric’s leg. She wondered how close of a thing it had been, them both surviving. Whoever that man was, in the strange armour, he would have killed either one of Auric or Stroud if they had fought alone.
Auric rubbed at his temple, looked down at the ground. “I’m sure.”
He was confident, at least, Liandra knew.
“Perhaps next time he won’t wait for you to defend yourselves. Perhaps next time he’ll ambush us in our sleep, slit your throats like cattle.”
“No.” Auric kept his eyes on the ground. “If he was going to do that, he would have the first time. We will not see him again, not before we reach Whitehall.”
Mother’s lip trembled, but she said no more. She was afraid, afraid for the life of her daughter, but she could not argue with the old man. On some level, she knew that he was right. He had been right about everything so far. Still, there was something Auric wasn’t telling them. Something had happened during that fight that had changed something for him, had changed the way he felt towards Liandra. She did not feel anything threatening buried in the complex whirl of his feelings, but still, it made Liandra apprehensive. The sooner they got to Whitehall, the better.
“Regardless,” Auric said, pushing himself back to his feet, “our course remains the same. Priest.”
Fairwell looked up, towards Auric. His eyes were vacant, as if he had woken from a dream. “Hmm?”
“Lead the way.” Auric gestured down the side of the mountain, towards the faint path winding through the trees.
Fairwell rose, somewhat lazily, and trudged off down the path. The others got to their feet—Beecham with a sympathetic whimper—and followed the priest.
The going was slow. The longer they walked, the worse Auric’s limp became. He made no complaint, but it was clear to all that he was in pain. He winced with each step. Blood oozed through his trousers at the outside of his right thigh. Beecham, too, slowed. His face had turned a scaly, yellow-pink mass of dried pus and old blood. He walked now with his arm over McJames’ shoulder, his stride reduced to little more than a ground-scraping shuffle. Liandra had to put him out of her mind, had to force his feelings out. There was too much pain, too much fear. If she let it in, she worried it would consume her.
Overhead, purple-gray clouds closed in, blurring the shadows of the trees, and chilling the air. Lightning flashed to the east, turning the sky a pale white. A few heartbeats later, a great gust of wind swept dust and leaves into Liandra’s face, and thunder ripped through the air like the hoof-beat of a thousand horses, causing Liandra to near jump out of her travelling clothes. She blinked grit from her eyes, as she felt the morale of all drop.
They pressed on, ever downward. Slowly but surely the ground flattened out. The first drops of rain fell in the late afternoon, as they came down a particularly stony slope, hard and jagged beneath their feet. The rain fell in dark drops against the stone, spattering them like a careless painter. They were soaked through in seconds. Even under the hood of her traveling cloak, Liandra’s hair stuck to her cheeks.
“Damn this rain,” McJames called out, over the roar of the falling water. “We must stop, find somewhere to shelter. Beecham is near ready to keel over.”
“I think it not the worst idea,” Fairwell added, turning to look up from a few paces below. His priestly robes were a sodden, dead weight falling from his shoulders.
“We will be lucky to find shelter on the side of the mountain,” Auric shouted. He pointed down to the end of the slope, where a pocket of dense trees sprouted up. “If you want to be dry, best we carry on.”
“We *are *still over a day from Whitehall,” Fairwell said. “The trees will do little to quell this deluge.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?” Stroud said, throwing out his arms.
“I shall pray for the rain to end. I invite you all to join me.”
Stroud narrowed his eyes, shook his head. “Fuck me, man. Is that all you have to offer? Remind me again why you’re here.”
“He knows the way,” Auric shouted.
“I think we all know the way from here. That blind kid could probably get us there.” Stroud gestured towards Beecham. “If he wasn’t kicking at death’s door.”
“Please,” Mother said, drawing out the word in desperation. “We must not fight amongst ourselves. Need I remind you that what pursues us does not fear the rain, is not slowed by pain or injury?”
Liandra looked about. Their faces dropped. She could feel their will to survive battling with their exhaustion. She felt the fear rise in them all, all except Auric. From him came only thirst and calm self-loathing. She felt then that if they carried on as they were, they would not make it. They could not outrun their pursuers, and with Auric injured, there was the very real chance they could not outfight them either.
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She looked around the group once more. Only Stroud stood tall, his eyes searching the path ahead. He put a hand across his brow, shielding his eyes, and stared off in the direction of Whitehall. He was eager to continue. He was still strong, and perhaps he was their only hope. A plan came to Liandra then, buoyed by the righteous zeal of inspiration.
“Stroud should go,” Liandra said, shocking the others, who turned to face her. “Ahead, I mean. He can travel faster than the rest of us. And when he gets there, he can send help back for us.”
There was no immediate response. She could see each of them weighing the costs, weighing the benefits. Stroud himself was excited by the notion. It *was *a good idea, Liandra knew, but she didn’t expect it to be accepted without argument.
“C’mon girl,” McJames said. He almost sounded disappointed. “If he goes off on his own, we’ll never see ‘im again. Trust me, the man thinks only about ‘is own skin.”
Liandra gave McJames her most royal look. “Exactly. He is driven by an overwhelming desire for self-preservation. Which is why he will make sure help comes for us.” Liandra turned towards Mother, made her voice stern. “Mother, does the offer of a royal pardon still stand?”
Mother looked to Liandra, caution in her eyes. Part of her was upset by the girl’s forwardness. Another part was impressed by her thinking, and her shrewdness. “If the man keeps to his word, then yes. I, as Queen, will pardon him of his crimes. I *will *give you your freedom.”
Stroud glared at Liandra. Rain water ran off his face. Perhaps he had guessed what she was about to say.
“Good,” Liandra said. She looked back at Stroud, her face a mask of dispassion. “Now rescind the offer unless he does what I have suggested.”
Shock from the others. Stroud, however, nearly laughed. The corner of his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “You little bitch.”
“You dare speak to my daughter so?” Mother said, stepping forward. Liandra put a hand against out to stop her. “No, Mother. He is right. What I have done is cruel. To dangle hope before him, then threaten to snatch it away. It *is *cruel, but it *is *necessary.”
Stroud’s lip twitched. His jaw trembled. “And why would I simply not leave you to die?”
Liandra gave him a sad smile. “Because if you do, you will spend the rest of your short life hunted. You will be caught, and you will be hanged.”
Stroud sneered, clenched his jaw. He looked away, down the mountain, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You win, little girl.”
“He will need a token,” Liandra said, looking up to Mother.
Mother stared down for a moment. Disbelief blocked her senses.
“Mother,” Liandra said once more.
Mother shook herself, stepped towards Stroud. She grasped at a finger with her other hand, and tugged a ring there loose. She approached Stroud, held it out to him. “When you get there, you must speak to Baroun. Show him this. He will know it comes from me. Demand to see him, of anyone who will listen.”
Stroud took the ring, tried it on his pinky, then, seeing it was too big, pushed it deep into a trouser pocket. “Well, I can’t say it has been a pleasure. Perhaps I will see some of you again, under better circumstances.” He shot Liandra a dirty look.
“No,” Mother said. “We may need you in the night. You will go first thing in the morning.”
Stroud opened his mouth to protest, but Auric spoke before he could. “The girl is right. It is already getting dark. There is little sense in running through the night, lest you collapse before you get there. Rest, then go in the morning.”
Stroud sucked at his teeth. He looked at Liandra. She sensed he wanted her to know what he felt. He did not want to spend a minute longer around the strange girl than he could get away with. “So be it,” he said. “Tomorrow I will fetch your salvation.”
They continued on another hour, in tense silence. The rain did not stop, and darkness came premature, the sun a milky smudge fading out in the west. The trees thickened somewhat as they came to the foothills, providing a little more cover from the rain.
It was well past sunset before the rain trickled away and stopped, leaving wet earth and a black sky devoid of stars. They stumbled through the dark, eventually coming to a rock wall slick with the rain. They nestled in a corner. McJames set Beecham against the wall, where he slumped over and shivered. Auric tore open his trouser leg, though he could not have seen his wound well in the dark of the night.
It was miserable. They lay in their wet clothes, huddled together, unable to warm themselves. Beecham groaned in his despair, and the others tried to ignore him, tried to find sleep.
Some time later, she did not know how long, Liandra sensed thoughts, a cluster of animals, somewhere out in the woods. She quested out to them, drawing their feelings into herself. They smelled humans, and they were frightened. She sent them as much comfort as she could muster. She wanted them to know they were friends. They would not cause harm.
When she sensed the thoughts calm, she rose to her feet.
“Where are ya off to?” Auric’s gruff voice startled her.
“I’m getting us help. Just don’t be alarmed when I get back. I won’t be long.”
She stepped out into the woods, picking her way towards the origin of the thoughts. The animals had a great understanding of the surrounding land, and she borrowed a half-sight from them, stepping over fallen logs and around ditches. After a few minutes, she came to the animals. A pair of deer—a buck and doe, mated to one another—were just visible in the dark. Their eyes glinted with pale light. They lifted their heads as she approached, but were not afraid.
She walked towards them, her hands outstretched, knelt down, and touched the doe. I am Liandra, she sent, a friend. You need not fear me or my companions. I promise you are safe.
I am Zafella, the doe sent back. This is my mate, Ullamna. Would you hear our story?
I wish that I could, but first must ask your assistance. Would you lie with my herd so that we may share of your warmth this cold night?
Zafella leaned her head forward. She licked Liandra’s cheek with her strong tongue. Certainly. Lead the way.
With her senses bonded with Zafella, Liandra easily found her way back to the rock wall. The others gave off such a smell—in Beecham’s case, she had to fight revulsion, fight the urge to turn and flee—that she only had to follow her nose. The two deer followed close behind. Excitement filled Zafella. She was eager to meet her new friends. Ullamna was more cautious, but still happy. When they returned, Auric shot to a sitting position.
“It’s okay,” Liandra said. “I have spoken with them. They are here to help us.”
Liandra could not see the expression on Auric’s face, but she felt his apprehension. Then, when Ullamna lay down next to him, she felt his relief.
“Press yourself against the animals,” she told the others, their waking minds slowly coming back to them. There was confusion, but it quickly fell away as they found the comforting warm of the deer, and slipped back into dream.
Liandra pressed her hand against Ullamna’s neck, scratched behind his ears. Thank you, she sent. We are infinitely grateful.
Of course, young one. Now rest against my belly, and I will lull you with the tale of my mate and me.
Liandra nestled against Ullamna, at the thin skin of his chest and stomach. She shivered as she felt his warmth seep into her.
We came to the mountain, searching for a land fit for our fawn. Zafella is with child. We will have many children, and they will graze on the tussock that spreads unbidden across the face of the mountain.
As much as she fought, as much as she longed to hear Ullamna’s tale, Liandra was asleep before he had finished the first utterance of it.
She dreamt of pain and cold. She was choking, choking on her blood. Her lungs filled with it. She gasped at the morning sky. Her hoofs scraped against the dew-covered earth as she convulsed, spasmed, then was still.
Liandra shot awake, and knew immediately that Zafella and Ullamna were dead. She shot to her feet and ran at Stroud, who stood over Zafella’s head. Blood dripped from the edge of his sword. Mother’s arms were around her, lifting her off the ground, cradling her, before she had a chance to make him pay.
“How could you?” she shouted, her eyes filling with tears.
Stroud looked at her, and she saw his own eyes rimmed in red. “We have to eat,” was all he said. A ghost of a joyless smile fluttered at the corner of his mouth, then, slowly, he looked back down at the animal he had killed, stared into the creature’s dead eyes.
Liandra lost herself in a sea of blind rage and fear. Part of her was still with the buck, still slipping into an endless, black void. She had to focus her mind, wilfully pull herself back into her body, before she went with him eternally.
Her own senses were a jumble, a scattering of light and sound. She was with Mother. In her arms. Eventually, mother’s love enveloped her, brought her mind back, calmed her.
By the time she had regained her composure, Stroud had already left, and Auric had set to cleaning the bodies. “I told them they were safe,” Liandra said, looking up into Mother’s eyes through tears.
“I know,” Mother said. “I know you did.”