Ticastasy walked with her arms folded. Allavin’s cloak draped over her shoulders, but it wasn’t enough to stop the chilling feeling in her heart. She was exhausted and more than once, the observant woodsman had to keep her from walking right into a tree. She had watched the evil dagger steal Sturnin Goff’s life. If Flent had fallen in the same manner, she would never forgive Tsyrke. Not ever. Her mind had been made up on that point.
“Watch the roots,” Allavin warned, alerting her just in time to slow and watch her step, crunching through the dried fragments of branches and debris. Allavin walked behind her, using the wide broom of a cedar branch to mask their trail as they passed. Twice during the journey they had hidden in swamp gullies as the Kiran Thall roamed the woods looking for them. But Allavin had kept them safe.
“How far do you think it is to Castun?” she mumbled. “We’ve been walking all day.”
“We’ll get there soon. I don’t know about you, but I could use a soft pillow tonight.”
“Mmmm,” she replied, barely able to speak. She paused as he approached and shared some water from his flask with her. The water was warm but it soothed her throat. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Quickfellow didn’t even have a dagger to use or a blanket to roll up in. She looked down at herself. The gown he had given her was mud-spattered and torn. She’d worn it to impress Tsyrke and to lie to him. To stab him in the heart as he had done to her. She wiped her eyes, her thoughts lost in a hazy cloud. What was she going to do? Where could she go? Quickfellow had said he would meet them in Castun. Was he a new path her future was going to take? A barter’s son was definitely more realistic than a Silvan prince.
“Come on, lass. Let’s keep going.”
Ticastasy nodded and started trudging through the woods again. When they came to the edge of the forest, she nearly cried with relief. Castun would be close. As she started walking again, more confidently now, she felt Allavin catch her arm.
“What is it?”
“Smoke,” he whispered, pointing.
She squinted and realized it herself. Castun was burning.
Sagging to her knees in the dry prairie grass, she started to cry in thick choking sobs. She felt Allavin’s arm slide around her shoulders. She could barely hear him over own ragged tears.
“This happens in war,” he said and squeezed. “And it’s only going to get worse.”
*
Ticastasy awoke later hearing voices whispering softly in the musical language of the Shae. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but it was night again and she was vaguely aware of falling asleep on Allavin’s warm cloak. As she slowly sat up, she wondered with a surge of hope if Quickfellow had caught up with them.
It was Jaerod.
“She’s awake,” the Sleepwalker said as she hurried to rise. He reached over and pulled some food out of his pack and offered it to her. She took it hungrily.
“Jaerod just finished telling me what happened,” Allavin said while she ate. He shook his head and sighed with disbelief.
“Hello, Ticastasy,” Jaerod said, his face impassive.
She nodded in welcome and pulled the cloak around her shoulders. She was relieved to see him alive, but where was Quickfellow? “Where have you been?”
Allavin answered for him. “The Sorian tried to kill him, but he used some magic to bring him back to the city he comes from – somewhere in the East Kingdoms? He’s been hurrying back to join us, but knew he came too late.”
“I thought you were Quickfellow’s protector?” she said, wiping the crumbs from her mouth. The bread was wonderful.
“He’s safe, at least for now. He was found by the Crimson Wolfsmen earlier today,” Jaerod answered. “They’re bringing him back to Avisahn right now. I’m going to join him after I leave you both.”
She nodded, feeling miserable. “Did he…get what he came here to get?”
Jaerod looked at her seriously and shook his head. There was something in his eyes as he looked at her. She couldn’t decide what it was. Compassion? Pity? “The warding is still in place. One of the Sorian has left something there in case the warding fails. From what Allavin has told me, I’m not sure Thealos was able to get the magic safely. If he took it, the warding would have vanished.”
Ticastasy sighed wearily. “Then we failed, didn’t we?”
Jaerod smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. “We only fail if we stop trying. I don’t think Thealos is going to quit…do you?”
She thought about it a moment, feeling a fluttering of hope in her heart. “He’s pretty stubborn, isn’t he?”
“He’s very stubborn. When he comes back to the Shoreland, he’ll bring a Silvan army with him. He’ll need you both as he’s needed you before. Be watching for him. Be waiting.”
“We will,” Allavin promised – and she knew he meant it for both of them.
*
Tsyrke reached down and picked the snapped necklace from the dirty straw. The sparrow pendant shimmered in the torchlight coming from the hall outside the cell. He closed the necklace into his fist, squeezing tightly.
“What happened?” he asked huskily, staring at the lump of char sprawled near the cell wall. If she was dead, he would never forgive himself.