Talar pressed his back to the wall of a rickety three-story building and glanced out the alley, gasping for breath. His side ached and he couldn’t seem to gulp enough air.
“We’ve lost them?” asked Bledig, his chest heaving from their run.
People yelled and screamed, but no one rushed down the street, pitchfork in hand, to kill them.
“I think so.” Talar leaned over, pressing his arm to his side. “What in the name of the Goddess happened?”
Bledig ran his hands through his hair and stared at the sliver of dark sky between the eaves. “They’re dead. All of them.”
“Who’s dead?” But ice filled Talar. He had a feeling he knew who was dead. If the first man to run into the pub had said Mythnar had been attacked by clansmen, whoever was responsible likely wouldn’t want any clansmen around to deny that.
“They slaughtered everyone in the delegation. I couldn’t get into the keep to see if the elders in the delegation were still alive.”
“Only by the grace of Her will,” said Talar. He said it out of habit and for Bledig’s sake. Her grace was still a matter for debate.
He rubbed his wrists, but the tattoos were cold. Guess She didn’t have anything to say at the moment. He couldn’t tell if that meant he should go after Kaelyn or not. His Goddess hadn’t spoken to him in a season, not since She’d denied Kaelyn her memories. Just another thing to hold against his fickle Goddess. It didn’t make any sense to have Kaelyn travel north, face the hardships she had–regardless that some could have been avoided–and then deny her request. She’d seemed so broken over the winter that he ached every time he looked at her.
Damn it, he should have stayed with her, not let the excuse of avoiding Court keep him from being at her side. And yet, she hadn’t wanted anyone at her side, not even Wyndham–and his affection for her was plain in everything he did.
“We need to get Kaelyn and get out of here,” said Bledig.
Four townsmen wielding shovels and daggers rushed down the street.
Talar lurched back, deeper into the shadows.
“What we need is to get you out of town.”
“I can’t leave the Avatar.”
“Your face will get you killed before you even get close to her.”
“But–”
“Mac will get to her.” Goddess, it burned to say it. If either of them were caught they’d be killed without question. It probably didn’t matter that his tattoos were hidden, just being in Bledig’s company was probably evidence enough that he was on the clansmen’s side. Why did the damned fool ink his face? “Come on. Mac will think of meeting up at the hunter’s hut I’ve being staying at. She’ll be there before us, I’m sure.”
Bledig grimaced but didn’t argue.
They worked their way to the closest gate out of Mythnar, hiding from townspeople. Bodies littered the streets, men, women, and children. The gruesome images burned into Talar’s memory. Whoever planned the attack wanted Meriduin to have no reservations about seeking retribution.
Hours later, Talar peered through the trees to check the narrow path leading to the hunter’s hut where he’d been staying. They were almost there. But not nearly soon enough. The moon sat close to the horizon and soon dawn would brighten the sky. For the last hour, all he could think of was Kaelyn. He should have gone looking for her, should have at least tried. But the logical part of him knew he’d made the right choice. Please let her and Mac and the others be safe.
They broke through the last of the trees and thick underbrush to the edge of a clearing. On the other side sat the hut. He started forward, but Bledig grabbed his shoulder and pointed at a trail of footprints and broken twigs.
“It looks like a small group, two maybe three people,” said Bledig.
Talar nodded. He squinted, trying to decide if the party had most recently come or gone, but couldn’t tell. There hadn’t been anyone around when he’d left for Mythnar that evening.
“If they’re still here, they’re being very discreet,” said Bledig. “No fire.”
Talar unsheathed his sword. “Then it’s a good thing we’re big strong clansmen and both thought to bring appropriate equipment.”
Bledig snorted and drew his blade. He eased through the tall grass, crouching low and creating only a hint of a ripple in the swaying stalks. Talar followed, making more of a trail. They inched to the front of the cabin where the door and the only visible window were, and pressed their backs against the rough, stone wall.
A faint flicker of light came through a crack in the shutter. Damn. The intruders were still here–likely going through his gear. He strained to hear anything but they were quiet, so he raised himself high enough to peer inside.
The light went out. He squinted, pressing his face to the shutter. Blond lashes fluttered across the opening. Talar bit back a yelp and jerked back, his heart racing. A matching cry and thump answered him from the other side of the wall.
“What?” hissed Bledig.
What, indeed. Talar scrambled to his feet.
“We know you’re out there.” It sounded like Gerid. “There are a lot of us.”
“I’m sure there are,” said Talar, praying it was Gerid and everyone else–particularly Kaelyn–safe from Mythnar.
The door cracked open and Gerid poked his head out. “Thank the Father. What would be the odds we’d look through the same crack at the same time?”
Talar snorted. “It sure wasn’t what I’d thought I’d see.”
Gerid ushered them in and closed the door. Jillyn sat on the floor before a small lit candle, twirling a lock of hair around and around her finger, her mouth pinched and eyes wide. Kaelyn wasn’t there. His mouth went dry. He had to go back for her.
“Are you all right? Were you followed?” asked Jillyn. “Have you seen Mac and Kaelyn?”
“Ah . . . yes . . . no and no,” said Talar. At least Mac was out looking for Kaelyn. If anyone could keep her safe–beyond herself–it was Mac. But it didn’t ease his worry.
“Where are the others?” asked Bledig.
“Mac sent us here and went to look for Kaelyn. He said he’d meet us,” said Jillyn.
Gerid sat beside her on the edge of a musty stool. “Are the rumors true? If Wyndham is dead, what about Aric?”
“How many of the clansmen were killed?” asked Jillyn.
“Everyone in the envoy,” said Bledig.
Jillyn released her hair and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry.”
Bledig nodded. In the dim light Talar couldn’t read his expression, but his tattoo made him look grim.
“So what now?” asked Bledig.
Gerid sighed. “I guess we wait.”
“Mac said he’d meet us here,” said Jillyn, “with Kaelyn.”
Bledig shifted from one foot to the other. Waiting probably didn’t sit well with a man who’d been the champion of his clan. “What do we do if they don’t show?”
No one responded. Talar didn’t need his seasons as a minstrel to read the moods in the hut. They were worried and they didn’t know what to do.
They spent a restless, sleepless night, waiting, but no one else came. The sun rose, higher and higher, and still nobody came up the path.
Talar shifted, but couldn’t get comfortable. It wasn’t a physical discomfort that bothered him. Kaelyn was going to be all right. She had to be. But when he examined that thought, that hope, he couldn’t find certainty. He didn’t want to believe that she had completed whatever task his Goddess had set out for her. That would mean Kaelyn was disposable, too, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her dead or dying somewhere in Mythnar.
Bledig crossed the hut and crouched beside Talar. “What now?”
“We need to–” Talar swallowed hard. They couldn’t wait forever, not when people had to be told what had happened. “We need to assume they’re not coming.”
“But–” Jillyn lurched forward and Gerid place a hand on her shoulder.
“We’re in possession of important information,” said Talar. “We need to decide what to do with it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Gerid.
“We know that someone has slaughtered the clansmen delegation. We also know that supposed clansmen attacked the keep.” Talar sucked in a steadying breath “And there’s a possibility that Wyndham, the Queen, and her consort are dead.”
Jillyn nodded, her expression dour. “So both sides are going to seek revenge.”
“The attackers weren’t clansmen,” said Bledig, his voice hard.
“Exactly. We have knowledge that might stop a war.” He’d just feel better about taking action if he knew Kaelyn was safe.
“So what do we do?” asked Jillyn.
Talar ran a hand through his hair. “We need to tell someone.”
“But,” said Bledig, “do we go north or south?”
“South of course,” said Jillyn.
“It might not be that simple.” Gerid cleared his throat. “This is a very difficult political situation. Especially since we don’t know who the attackers are.”
Birds outside cried and flew into the air with a flutter of wings. Talar eased to the window and scanned the trees, hoping it was Mac and Kaelyn and not someone else. But no one appeared and the forest returned to quiet.
“We need to go north,” said Gerid. “The clans are steeped in tradition. Once they decide on a war they might be unwilling to change their minds. Adelicia and her sons are more likely to consider negotiations even after their army has assembled.”
“But if the Queen and Consort and–” Jillyn sniffed. “–and Wyndham are dead do you think Prince Reynold will listen to reason?”
“It’s been a while since I was in court at Vitreah, but everything I’ve heard about Reynold said he’s more like his mother than his father.”
“North then,” said Bledig.
“What of Mac and Kaelyn?” asked Jillyn.
“If they’re not here by now. . . .” Talar couldn’t finish, couldn’t say what he feared, that they were dead. Nor did he need to. He saw the same fear in everyone else’s eyes.
