Part 5: Died for Love
"I did, didn't I?" said Lila to the arrowpoint. She tried to smile her best, most engaging grin while propped up on one elbow, aware that she was barefoot and that her right sleeve smelled of sheep-shit.
The arrowpoint didn't move.
"So…" said Lila. "Are all the sheep up here this fierce, or is it just that one? I'm Lila Farlong, by the way."
"Why not grab another lamb, and see what happens, Lila Farlong?" Not many people could joke with someone one moment, and kill them the next. Except Bishop, maybe. She hoped that the playfulness in the voice wasn't a merely a projection of her hopes.
"Not right now, thanks," said Lila. "Getting trampled once by an angry sheep is enough humiliation for today, don't you think? But if my friends ever think I'm getting too big for my boots, they can always send me back here for another round."
Her voice cracked on last word. She licked her lips. It wasn't that she was trying to appear thirsty, tired, and desperate to gain his sympathy; she was thirsty, tired, and desperate, but perhaps that could be used to her advantage.
There were no sounds coming from behind her. That might mean the other four were standing still, and not doing anything stupid like reaching for their weapons. With the bow string still drawn and almost thrumming with tension, and the arrow still pointing at her neck, she wasn't about to look away.
"Why are you here?" the half-elf asked. "You're too incompetent to be sheep rustlers."
Lila mustered a croaky laugh. "We were travelling along the Great East Road when we were ambushed by undead at sunset yesterday. We escaped into the hills, and we've been walking ever since. We're exhausted. Please." She looked past the bow to make eye contact with the man holding it. "We just wanted a drink of milk. We'd have asked at the house, but thought it was empty." She pushed herself up a little further. "Please – we mean no harm."
She waited. Closed her eyes. Tried to look as vulnerable as she felt.
"Who are the rest of your people?"
She opened her eyes. The half-elf was putting the arrow back into its quiver. His bow was already slung over one shoulder. She let out a slow breath. Gods – whichever of you may be looking out for us – thank you. She tilted her head back to where she thought Katriona was standing.
"Would you do the introductions?"
"Certainly," replied the sergeant from somewhere above her head. "My name is Katriona of Sundale. This young man is Luan of New Leaf. The elf is Elanee from the Mere of Dead Men. And to my right is – well, we call him Eyepatch. Most recently of Phandalin."
Lila blinked. So, in a sense she had known the man's name all along. It felt like a disproportionately huge relief, almost better than watching the half-elf put away his arrow and shoulder his bow.
Without actually lying, Katriona hadn't identified them as soldiers of Crossroad Keep. That was for the best, for now. Farmers could be touchy about Greycloaks – for good reason, in the case of certain regiments. But her group were all in light armour without the famous cloaks; there was nothing to give them away, unless Luan called Katriona "sergeant" by accident.
The half-elf glanced at each one of them appraisingly. Then shrugged. He vaulted over the fence using just one arm, and strolled to the gate. After flicking the latch up, he held it open.
"You'd better come in," he said. "I can give you water, or the mistress of the house can see if we have something richer. We normally eat in about an hour from now." He squinted at the sky.
Lila did the same. It looked to be a little short of midday. The sun was high, and sat in a field of pure blue, like the Eye of Tyr on the crest of Neverwinter. Light blanketed the wide plateau. They could afford a couple of hours before carrying onto Fort Revier.
"Thank you," said Lila. "We're very grateful. And sorry about the lamb." Everyone except Elanee echoed and re-echoed her thanks as they trudged through the gate.
Their guide took them along a path of dust and loose pebbles that wound up round the hill, like a small-scale version of the ascent to Crossroad Keep. At the base of the hill the path cut through a meadow of flowers trembling in the faint breeze from the south. Bees wove lazily amongst the long grasses.
As they neared the house, they passed terraced gardens filled with strawberry bushes, raspberry canes, lettuces, and other vegetables. Shandra would have approved. On her right, one of the terraces was larger than the others, and seemed to have been sunken into the hill itself to provide shelter from the winter winds. Instead of holding vegetable beds, it was entirely occupied by the bent branches and trunk of an ancient apple tree. Small, unripe apples grew in plenty on every one of the gnarled boughs.
"It's unusual for a tree so ancient to bear fruit," said Elanee.
"And yet this one does," replied Lila.
"It looks a bit like a really old man, doesn't it?" said Luan.
Lila paused, and winced as Luan walked into her. "Yes – I see it. Like an old man with a bent back." A low, crooked branch could be a leg. A spray of twigs and leaves stretching towards the midday sun could be a head.
"Perhaps the ones in the Keep orchard will look like that one day," said Luan.
"I hope so." She looked up the hill to where the weathered half-elf was waiting for them patiently. "Let's go. I don't want him to change his mind and get his bow and arrows out again."
"It wasn't us that stopped to look at trees!" muttered Katriona.
A final short climb, and they were standing in front of the porch of an old farmhouse. The lower storey and chimneys were had been built of creamy limestone; a second floor of old beams and thick plaster rested on the thick walls. It looked more welcoming than the last place they'd seen beside Redfell. This one had glazed casement windows on both levels. Behind the set nearest her, she spotted yellow iris in a sea-blue-glazed vase, and a tortoiseshell cat fast asleep next to it. No wonder the residents hadn't evacuated: if it had been her home, she wouldn't have left it either.
Apart from the house itself, a small barn and stable block had also found space on the little hill's summit. Chickens pecked around stretch of cobbled yard between the buildings, a long-maned horse leaned out above its stable door, while a house martin arced down from its nest.
The half-elf was at the pump in the yard, filling a wooden bucket with clear water. Was he planning to give it to them to drink? She was so thirsty she'd be pathetically grateful for water on any terms in any state.
"Take this," he said, pressing a bar of ash soap into her hand. "And hold out your arm."
He tipped half the bucket over her dirty sleeve and hand, while she scrubbed hard at the residue of frightened lamb. Foamy bubbles smelling of pine oil sank into the wet linen, until the last of the muck seemed to be gone.
As the half-elf sluiced down her arm again, she saw a pair of thickset humans with bullish necks and muscular arms step out from behind the open barndoor, look at them, then walk straight back in again. The horse whinnied in its stable.
"Who were they?" Elanee asked.
"Who?" said the half-elf. He'd been facing Lila with his back to the new faces.
"A couple of humans. They were in the barn."
"Oh," he shrugged. "Local lads. Giving us a hand about the place. We need the extra help when our son is called away."
Their guide directed them to the boot-scraper by the door – Lila scraped her feet conscientiously - before leading them through the porch into a long corridor. The floor was surfaced with a layer of smooth pebbles set in swirling shapes like peacock-eyes. It was dark and pleasantly cool; she hadn't realised how overheated she'd been in the baking sunshine until now that a gentle draught of air was flowing round her ankles.
The corridor continued to the back of the house with wooden doors opening off it here and there. Next to a flight of stairs, the corridor turned at a right angle, and brought them into what had to be the kitchen. It was a long room, and felt low – in part because of the heavy beams across the ceiling, and in part because this part of the house was half-underground. Six windows, all set high on the wall, admitted the light in controlled shafts.
Sitting in the corner, the sun from the nearest window shining on her silver-yellow hair, was a woman. Lila tried not to gawp. Realising that Luan wasn't even trying, she nudged him hard with her elbow.
The lady – the word came into her head much more easily than it did for most of the actual ladies of the Neverwinter court – had a heart-shaped face without signs of age. A narrow chin, apple cheeks and wide grey eyes created the dual impression of astuteness and softness. Her figure was round, and motherly.
"Welcome," said the mistress of the house, who was, if Lila was not mistaken, a very beautiful half-elf, half-dwarf. Rare.
"I found them wandering in the upper field," said the half-elf. "They asked for something to drink…" he shot a sideways glance at Lila "…and need food too. This one looks like she could do with a month on double rations."
"Us too," said Eyepatch sotto voce.
The mistress of the house sent an amused smile to Lila. "You're not the first wanderers to find their way to our door. Take a seat, all of you, and tell me about yourselves."
They gratefully moved to occupy the stools that lay around the heavy table, whose surface was marked by generations of the work of the farm's cooks.
"I'll never be able to stand up again," said Luan, giving voice to her own thoughts. Every muscle in her legs had started twinging and protesting at their treatment over the last day, now that they were no longer required to hold her upright.
The mistress of the house rose and filled a large glass jug with sweet-smelling liquid from a barrel. She placed it on the table, along with six beakers, and a pot of honey. "Meadowsweet cordial. The flowers grow on the southern banks of Deramoor. Straight from the barrel it's bitter – I use lemons from the glasshouses in the city, you see – so add as much honey as you like."
Despite the urge to seize the jar and tip the lot down her throat, Lila waited for her companions to our themselves a drink. Her fingers were already twitching in their eagerness reach out for the handle. To distract herself, she watched the mistress as she returned to her place in the corner, a round, neat figure who completed everything in small, graceful movements. That was even visible in the away she pulled the chopping board towards her, and resumed slicing red cabbage into pieces before adding them to a pickling jar.
Finally, Lila was able to pour herself a beaker of the cordial. There was some left, thanks be. The next challenge was to drink it in sips instead of all at once, as Eyepatch had done. His left eye was already on the jug, probably calculating how many refills were left in it.
She took her first sip. The flavour was sharp underneath the flowery aroma, that was true, though the sharpness helped cut through some of her weariness. Even in the shady kitchen, where the small fire under a cauldron of water had little effect on the cave-cool air, Lila felt she was sitting in her own personal heat haze, eradiating all the sunlight that had sone down on her in the fields and on Derramor.
"Don't worry if you finish that jug. There's plenty left, and another barrel in the cellar as well." Luan and Eyepatch grinned delightedly, Katriona's lips twitched, and Lila thanked their host again with some of the most sincere thanks she'd ever uttered. Elanee seemed detached, staring round the old kitchen with wondering eyes. Typical Elanee, then.
"I'm sorry we didn't introduce ourselves to start with," said Lila, after finishing her first beaker of cordial. At least she could speak without croaking now. "I'm Lila – this is Katriona, Elanee, Eyepatch and Luan."
"I'm happy you're here, and welcome again," said their host. "We don't have many guests up here these days. Not regularly. The troubles have put people off travelling, and the wars to the north and east." Orcs and Luskans, thought Lila. Was she not concerned about the darkness in the merelands?
"Yes," said Katriona. "A bad business. But we were surprised to find anyone still here. The other families roundabout have left."
"We're a stubborn folk in this country," the lady replied, raising her chin a little at the same time a flash of amusement crossed her eyes.
"Determined!" clarified the half-elf from the kitchen door. Lila laughed politely, having heard the same remark a hundred times before in West Harbour, most often from Georg.
"That's right. Three parts mule, three parts donkey, three parts grit, and season the lot with struck flint. That's us," smiled the mistress of the house. "Like the whitethorn on the hilltops, we can stay put here through the worst of the winter gales." She dropped more cabbage into the jar, screwed it firmly closed, then wiped her hands on a cloth.
Across the table, Katriona raised an eyebrow. Lila shook her head as unobtrusively as she could, trying to communicate to the sergeant that this wasn't the right moment for a lecture on the creeping threat from the Merdelain. Katriona's pale eyelashes flickered in assent.
"I'm sorry I've offered you no food," continued their host. "We're waiting for our boy. He went out this morning to look for a missing lamb, and hasn't got back yet."
Lila's heartbeat quickened slightly. Her companions shifted in their places, and Luan's eyes widened. That didn't sound good. At all.
"Not a boy anymore," said the half-elf. "He's fallen asleep in the shade, most likely, or gone fishing by the canal. Still, I'll see if I can track him down."
He pushed himself off the doorframe, ready to stride away.
"What time did he go out?" asked Katriona.
"Dawn," said the mistress of the house. "I saw him climbing over the fence at first light." She looked oddly vague. "I think. Or was that yesterday?"
The half-elf narrowed his eyes. "No – I must have seen him after that. He was reading in the sunken orchard. His favourite place." He frowned. "I'll find him. I always do." Then he was gone; his light steps made no noise in the corridor.
Lila looked at their host's soft-sharp face. There were faint signs of strain around the eyes and mouth. Retta Starling had often had that expression; maybe Esmerelle would have too, if she'd lived. At times like this, Lila wished Neeshka were nearby, ready to kick her ankle and tell her to stop imprinting on other people's mothers like a lost duckling.
"Is he your only child?" she asked.
"Yes. He's adopted." The woman raised her eyes to meet Lila's. "But I could never love a child of my body more than I love him. The same for my husband. He's all the world to us."
"He's lucky," said Katriona. "To have such loving parents."
"Do you have children?" They all shook their heads, Luan turning a rosy pink as he did so.
"Well, maybe one day a child will find you as ours found us." Lila thought of Kipp shuffling to the main gate of the Keep with rags wrapped around his feet. Well, maybe. But fond as she was of the West Harbour orphan, she doubted the feeling could compare with the kind of all-encompassing devotion that this woman seemed to feel towards her son.
Her legs throbbing, she stood, using the table to prop herself up while her head stopped spinning. "I'll go and look as well. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. After what we've seen recently, I don't think anyone should be outside on their own."
"That goes for you too, Lila," said Katriona.
"I shouldn't ask you to -" said their host, in what seemed to be only a formal display of hesitancy.
"I'll go as well. And you," said Luan to Eyepatch. The older man had been pouring the last of the cordial into his beaker, and looked glum, though compliant. "We'll watch your back," Luan assured her.
"Perhaps I'll -" said Elanee.
"Stay here and have a rest," said Lila. "You could do with one after last night."
"I was unconscious last night," said Elanee.
"Exactly!" Lila retorted, grinning. She shifted the straps of the haversack so that they dug into a different part of her skin. There was the option of leaving it and its contents with her companions, but it would have made her uneasy in her mind to be parted from it. The head of the statue had been bought with at least one life.
As she stepped out of the door, the hot air surged up and down and around her. With any luck, they'd find the – boy? man? – quickly, and then be able to sit out the worst of the midday sun indoors again. There was no sign of the half-elf in the triangular farm-yard; nor was the human help in evidence. To the north and south, Deramoor appeared deserted, except for sheep.
"Where now, chief?" asked Eyepatch.
"Back the way we came, then sweep south and east around the base off the hill."
Passing the sunken terrace with the apple tree, she glanced back over her shoulder. One of the thick-set farmhands was standing by the barndoor again, following their progress. Perhaps she should ask him if he'd seen either father or son?
"That lady, said Luan, distracting her, "was she a half-elf, half-dwarf?"
"I think so. But I didn't want to ask and risk offending her."
"I've never seen on before. I never thought they'd be so pretty."
"I wouldn't rate her much myself. Too much at the front and not enough at the back, if you get me," drawled Eyepatch. "Mind you, I wouldn't say no either."
Lila rolled her eyes at the path. "Her husband's a fine archer," she said. "I could see that just in the way he kept the arrow so still for so long. Be careful about saying that kind of thing too loudly."
"Aw, come on, chief. There's no one around!"
"My foster father can shoot a wren from the air at a hundred yards. Bishop can do the same, and he can read lips as well. Don't be so sure."
As Eyepatch hurriedly scanned their surrounds, she repressed a smile. Could Daeghun or Bishop shoot a wren from such a distance? Maybe, but why anyone would bother to was an entirely different question.
Reaching the gate first, she held it open for Luan and Eyepatch to pass through with exaggerated courtesy. And then they were out on Deramoor.
"Right, we'll split up, but stay within sight of each other. Eyepatch, that way. Luan, you stay in the middle. We'll check the meadow beyond the dyke, and the outskirts of the wood. But don't go into the trees on your own. If you see anything in there, call me."
"Yes, captain."
"Got it, chief."
She nodded to them. "Good."
She set off across the sheep-cropped grass. The sun beat down on her. It had to be past midday now. Something was nagging at her, something she'd heard or seen that was important…she bit her lip. Damn it. It was too hot to think.
To her right, both Eyepatch and Luan were following her orders to the letter. Luan was about five spear-lengths away, and walking parallel to her, while Eyepatch was the same distance again from Luan. As she neared the meadow beyond the boundary ditch, the sound of bees and crickets grew louder. The shade of the treeline seemed to invite her towards it.
Something moved.
She squinted into the spaces between the rowan and aspen trunks, just as a man stepped out from amongst them. He was carrying a lamb under his left arm; it let itself be held, apparently content to be where it was.
"Hello!" she called. "Are you the son of the farmers on the hill?"
The man, a human, stepped further into the sunlight. He was wearing an old-fashioned grey shepherd's smock embroidered around the shoulders and sleeves with silver thread. In his right hand he held a black quarterstaff.
At first she thought he hadn't understood the question, or hadn't heard it. But suddenly he tilted his head a little to the side, and gave her a brilliant smile, all the more striking for the solemn young-old face it was spread across. Olive skin. Black hair. Cheekbones high and round.
"Yes," he said, sounding almost as if he had been given an unexpected present. "I am their son. Are they well?" He continued moving forwards, until they were on opposite sides of the dry ditch, he to the north, she to the south.
"Yes. But they were worried about you. Your father's out looking for you – I came to help."
The man nodded. How old was he? Anything between eighteen and forty was her best estimate. "I know. I want to come. But I had to find this little one first, you see. And that took a lot of my strength."
He bent down, and released the lamb, giving it a little push when it seemed to want to stay by him. It bleated, and ran down the ditch and up the other side. Somewhere behind Lila, a ewe called back in response.
"Will you come home?" she asked, looking into his dark eyes with a growing sense of disquiet. She remembered now what she should have remarked on in the house. The canal. The half-elf had known about it, treated it as if it were a normal part of the landscape.
The shepherd looked up to the sky, shading his eyes against the sun. "It's too late, I think." His voice was full of a regret so powerful that she felt her own chest clench in sympathy. How could a few simple words do that to her?
"It's only noon," she managed to reply, keeping her voice level with difficulty.
"Past noon, now, I fear." He pointed at the ground by her feet, and she followed his finger uncomprehendingly. "Your shadow is growing longer."
So it was. When they first arrived on Deramoor, it had been nothing but a stump. Since then it had grown, attenuated. Looking back across at him, she forced herself not to clasp the hilt of her sabre: he had no shadow at all. In her experience, that meant one thing.
"That lamb I saved has a hundred days to play in the field with its flock," he said, "before it goes to the slaughterhouse. But my hundred days were not like that. They took me into the dark. They took me into the cold and dark forever. If I were allowed to wish anymore, I would wish for a hundred days like that lamb."
She stared at him. Often, when she couldn't sleep, she had imagined the ways they might meet. In a cavern under the earth, maybe, or in the ruins of West Harbour on the site of the last battle. On the walls of Crossroad Keep. Never had she imagined a meadow of rustling grasses and flowers at midsummer. And he'd always appeared as a monster, black and characterless, a negative and nameless force of aggression. He wasn't supposed to be like this.
"I'm sorry," she said. She really was. Always had been since the first journey to Arvahn, but meeting him now, and seeing his face made it worse. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him. How did you get here? Are you trapped? Can I help you? Can I break the rite that you chose for yourself all those centuries ago?
But already the features that had seemed so clear when he held the lamb were fading – warping – shadowing.
"You need to leave now, Lila. My time is up. Yours too, maybe."
A scream juddered through her. It had come from somewhere on her right. She spun around and ran towards the source of the noise. Ahead of her she could see Luan running too.
Perhaps forty yards away, at the bottom of the ditch, she caught up with him. He was crouching next to Eyepatch. The older man was lying on his back. The fingers of one hand tore into the ground; with the other, he had made a fist and was thumping on the dry-packed earth. In time with the beat, he let loose a string of groans and curses that would have shocked a dockworker.
He had triggered a steel trap, and its jaws were buried deep in his right calf.
"Captain!" said Luan. He looked green. "What…what do we do?"
Lila exhaled once, slowly. Elanee was up at the farmhouse. After her encounter on the edge of Deramoor, it was clear that the farm was not a safe place to be. Yet she couldn't leave Eyepatch here with that in his leg, while she extracted Elanee and Katriona. Could she?
She gritted her teeth. She'd seen a lot worse, she told herself. She'd helped Elanee with the wounded many times. She could do this.
"Cut off his shirtsleeves," she told Luan. "We'll use them as bandages."
Her stomach lurching, she untied her Calim sash and folded it across twice, trying to make it narrow and strong, more like a rope. She knew two little healing cantrips. Barely enough to mend a cut finger, really. What she would give for just one strong healing potion.
On the ground, Eyepatch had stopped cursing. His chin was tilted back, jaw muscles tightening and trembling in agony.
"Bite down on this," she said, pressing the leather sheath from her knife between his teeth. Eyepatch might be almost on another place in terms of his suffering, but he understood what was going to happen. His eyes rolled in terror, and his shoulders seemed to be trying to dig backwards into the ground in an effort to get away.
She quickly scanned the plateau in all directions. No one else was visible. The young shepherd of the hills had vanished into nothing, as she had thought he might.
"Get ready to hold him down, Luan. I'll make this as quick as I can."
At least she was wearing her enchanted gauntlets. They should speed the business along. She knelt down by the trap, put a hand each on either side of the steel jaws, and wrenched them open.
Even with his teeth deep into the improvised gag, Eyepatch's moans seemed loud enough to echo amongst the caves and cliffs of the surrounding hills. Luan spread-eagled himself across his comrade to keep his thrashing in check.
Not time to stop yet. She bound her sash tight above his knee. Then, cutting away part of his bloodied hose, she muttered both healing spells in quick succession. They didn't seem to do much, but there was so much blood it was impossible to see the wounds in detail. She was grateful for that. What she could make out was bad enough.
A few more slices, and the shirtsleeves were formed into passable bandages. She wrapped them around his leg until his whole calf was covered. Blood soaked through them before she'd managed to tie the ends.
For a while she just knelt on the grass, feeling completely numb. Luan staggered away to throw up, but when he came back he sat next to Eyepatch, massaging his hand without seeming to realise what he was doing. She had no more spells, no potions. What happened now would depend on the strength of the man lying in the ditch.
Finally, Eyepatch coughed. Lila hurried to remove the gag.
"What was the trap for?" he gasped. "An ogre?"
If it had been a trap for an ogre, he would have been dead. She looked at the glossy, blood-slicked metal in distaste. She reckoned it was about human-sized. You'd have to be daft to put out anything smaller, unless you wanted to risk maiming your own sheep.
"Well, you were too much for it," said Lila. "Much too tough. Must be all those weapons drills at the Keep."
Eyepatch's lips were pale. He smiled in a wild sort of way. "Sound the charge, captain." He rested a hand on the haft of the morning star he'd been carrying with him since the ambush. "And I'll get up and smash the bastards."
She lent forwards and touched his forehead. Clammy, damp, not as warm as it should be. Gods, don't let me lose him too.
She held still for a little longer, trying to get her thoughts and feelings into some sort of order. They needed to get away, but Eyepatch couldn't move. The farmhouse was not safe, but Elanee and Katriona were still up there. Leaving the men on their own was dangerous, but…but…but…
She closed her eyes. Zhjaeve would say something calming and fairly incomprehensible, if she were here. Just imagining the quiet voice of her Zerth advisor was a balm. The words didn't matter.
They'd be back at Crossroad Keep with the lizard-folk now, Zhjaeve and Casavir. Assuming their party hadn't been ambushed too. And even if there was an ambush, Zhjaeve could escape and warn the Keep because she didn't use horses, she teleported…
That was it. Horses. Lila's thoughts clarified. How stupid not to think of it immediately. She pushed herself off the ground with hands still covered in blood.
"Luan," she whispered. She gestured for him to follow her, and moved a short distance away so that they were out of Eyepatch's hearing. The man had enough problems. "This place is dangerous," she said. "Very dangerous. I don't just mean the traps – the farmhouse too."
Luan nodded. The poor lad looked as if he might be in as much shock as Eyepatch. "I thought so. That man you were speaking to – why didn't he come and help? What kind of person doesn't come and help someone when they're screaming?"
Quite a lot of people, in Lila's experience. "You saw him then?"
"Oh yes. A black-haired man with a staff."
"He's the reason this place is so dangerous. We need to get far, far away from it. Anywhere is better than here. Listen, I'm going to go back up the hill. There's a horse in the stables there. I'll saddle it and bring it down to you. Then I'll go back for Elanee and Katriona. If anyone sees me and asks about the horse, I'll just say I'm using it to fetch Eyepatch. Barely even a lie."
"What about the lady and her husband? Shouldn't we try and save them? They were kind to us."
"If I could, I would. But I think we may have arrived a thousand years too late to be able to help them." This would be too much for Luan soon, she was sure. She returned to less daunting ground. "Just stay with Eyepatch, keep watch over him, keep him talking if you can, and keep a look-out. I'll be back in no time at all."
Gods stand me by. Stand us by. She used the old formula she'd heard from a travelling cleric in West Harbour. After taking a last look at Eyepatch and noting that his breathing was regular, she turned to face the farm on its mound. Get the horse. Head back down. Easy.
She swung herself over the gate, and for the second time that day followed the winding path upwards. For the benefit of any onlooker, she left her sabre sheathed. The knife was still down in the field with the soldiers. Pity.
At the apple tree she stopped, bracing herself for the last push uphill alone. Better not to think that if this trip went without a hitch, she'd have to do it all over again before they could flee west.
"Lila!"
She blinked in surprise, then relief. It was Katriona. Perhaps a third climb wouldn't be necessary after all. And it felt good not to be alone.
The sergeant came to a halt a spear's length away from her. A haversack, the twin of the one Lila carried, was slung over her back. That was one less thing to worry about. Now they just needed a horse and an elf druid, and they'd be all set.
"Where's Elanee?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
Katriona smiled. It was a wide smile that showed her teeth. "No, nothing's wrong. But you had been gone so long I thought you might have come to harm."
"Well, as you see, I'm fine." In as casual a manner as possible, Lila slid her left foot back and a little to the side. She rubbed an pretend itch on her chin, hoping to give an impression of nonchalance. "You left her on her own?"
The sergeant's pale eyes didn't move. "Oh no, Lila – I left her with the family. They're about to have lunch. Come on, join us."
Lila shook her head. "It's strange, but I don't feel hungry. It must be all the fresh air up here on Deramoor. It's completely destroyed my appetite."
"Still, you must eat. It would be impolite to refuse."
They both paused. Watched each other.
Lila flexed her shoulder muscles. Time to end this farce.
"I'm surprised you left Elanee behind. What would Casavir think?"
"Casavir?" The thing in front of her wrinkled its forehead. "Who-?"
It realised it had failed the test. Red light flooded its eyes. Katriona's white skin and blonde hair retreated, and were consumed by a deepening layer of shadow.
But one shadow alone was no obstacle. Lila had her sabre in her hand, and had brought it slashing down before the transformation was complete.
"Go into nothing," she spat, as she brought her arm down again. Unnecessary, but satisfying.
The dark shreds of the creature faded. Soon she was alone on the path again. Nothing was different, except that a haversack lay abandoned on the path at her feet.
She knew something was wrong before touching it. Why was it not still with the real Katriona? For it was definitely the real haversack. There were even sandy scuffmarks on it from the hollow they'd rested in at dawn.
Gingerly, she picked it up. It was much lighter than it should have been.
About to undo the ties that held it shut, she froze. Where the bag had fallen on the path, the dust had turned dark. A red drop trickled downhill towards her, being absorbed into the ground before it could touch her foot.
She set the bag down again.
She didn't want to open it at all. Right now, she wanted to run to the stables, grab the horse, and ride to the Neverwinter Road as fast as she could. But she had to open it. Had to.
Her fingers stumbling, she loosed first one knot, then another. She pulled back the canvas cover.
Inside was a mass of white-blonde hair. There was only one person she knew with so much hair of precisely that colour. She couldn't see much beneath it. The top of an ear. The bridge of the nose. But really, she knew who it was.
She dropped the cover back down. Put a hand to her mouth. Screwed her eyes shut.
What the hell had happened? Was that really -? She wasn't going to look again. Didn't want to carry the memory of the dead face with her for the rest of her life, however long that was.
She held her hands in front of her, palm-up. The blood had dried already. Distantly, she was surprised to see her own hands shaking.
Oh Gods, Katriona was dead. She'd been relaxed and well in the old kitchen a short time ago, and now -
But Eyepatch and Luan were alive. Elanee too perhaps, though she had little hope of it.
This wouldn't do. None of her friends would be kneeling in the dust like this when the journey wasn't over. She willed her hands to stay still. Took the haversack from the path, and laid it beside the trunk of the apple tree.
"Look after her," she said, pressing the bark with the tips of her fingers. It felt right, somehow. And with her sabre drawn, her back straight, she continued up the path.
