She was shaking her head, denial, rage, and fear twisting her features, her hand tightening on his arm until her nails bit into his flesh.
"He's not attacking us because he wants to!" Quentin hissed. "He's doing it because he doesn't have a choice, because he's been rebuilt to carry out the wishes of Antrax! He's been mind-altered like those Elves who murdered Allardon Elessedil! Only there's no body left, nothing whole. He's-" He caught himself. "He isn't Ard Patrinell anymore, but Antrax has stolen something of who he was and is holding it prisoner inside that wronk."
Something moved in the darkness, but the movement was small and quick. Quentin glanced out hurriedly, then back to Tamis.
"You could be wrong," she insisted angrily.
"I know. But I'm not. I saw him. I saw him."
There were fresh tears in her eyes. He caught their gleam in the moonlight. Her grip on his arm loosened. She blinked hard and looked away. "I can't believe it. It isn't possible."
"The Rindge knew. They've seen it happen before with their own people. They tried to tell us."
She shook her head and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair. "It makes me sick. It makes me want to scream. No one should have to . . ."
She couldn't finish. Quentin didn't blame her. There were no words sufficient to express her feelings. What had been done to Ard Patrinell was so loathsome, so despicable that it left the Highlander feeling unclean.
And afraid, because there was every chance that Antrax intended that he come to the same end.
"We'll have to kill him," she said suddenly, looking over with such fierceness that it left him off balance. For a moment, he wasn't certain who she was talking about. "Again, all over again. We can't leave him trapped in there. We have to set him free."
She took his hands in her own and gripped them tightly. "Help me do it, Highlander. Promise me you will."
He saw it then, the reason for her passion. She had been in love with Ard Patrinell. He had missed that before, not seen even the barest hint of it. How had he been so blind? Maybe she had kept it well enough hidden that no one could have known. But there it was, out in the open, as certain as daylight's return with the dawn.
"All right," he agreed softly. "I promise."
He had no idea how he was going to keep that promise, but his feelings on the matter were as strong as her own. He was the one who had looked into Ard Patrinell's eyes and seen him in there, still alive. That was not something he could pretend never happened and would have no effect on him if he walked away from it. Like Tamis, he could not leave the Captain of the Home Guard a slave to a machine. The wronk had to be destroyed.
"Get some sleep," she said, easing away from him. There was weariness and sadness in her voice. All of her strength seemed drained away. He had not seen her like that before and he did not like seeing her that way. It was as if she had suddenly grown old.
"Wake me in a few hours," he said.
She did not respond. Her gaze was directed out into the night. He waited a moment, then stretched out, placing his head in the crook of his arm. He watched her for a time, but she didn't move. Finally, his eyes closed and he slept.
In his troubled dreams, he ran once more from the wronk. It pursued him through a forest, and he could not find a way to escape it. After a long time, he found himself backed against a wall, and he was forced to turn and fight. But the wronk was not solid or recognizable. It was insubstantial, a thing made of air. He could feel it pressing into him, suffocating him. He fought to break free, just to draw a breath, and then suddenly it materialized right in front of him and he saw its face. It belonged to Bek.
It was almost dawn when he woke, the first tinges of daylight seeping through the trees, the sky east lightening. Tamis had fallen asleep on watch, her body leaning against a tree, her chin lowered into her chest. When he pushed himself into a sitting position, she heard him move and looked up at once.
In the distance, far off but recognizable, something big moved through the trees.
They stood up together, staring in the direction of the sounds.
"It's coming again," Quentin whispered. "What do you want to do? Make a stand here or choose another place?"
Her look was unreadable, but the weariness and sadness of the previous night had vanished. "Let's find one of those pits the Rindge dug for wronk traps," she replied softly. "Let's see how well it works."
FIFTEEN