Down a Lost Road

chapter 15 – Rescue


Moments later Yatol and Tyhlaur returned, drenched in sweat and empty-handed. Enhyla handed them skins of water, and they stood a while in silence slaking their thirst. They seemed stern, somehow, stern and strong and almost absent. None of us dared approach them.

Tyhlaur came eventually to sit with us, but Yatol kept gazing back the way we had come, toward Enhyla’s hut. If I hadn’t known him, I would have been afraid of him at that moment. I’d never seen him like that, fierce, with some terrifying light gleaming in his eyes. It was as though the strange fire in his eyes had completely swallowed the dark depths of his irises. I could see his throat tighten, his hands clench at his sides. After a moment he turned away, away from the darkening forest and away from me. He put his hand to his forehead, then dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

“Enhyla? Who was Khymranna? Yatol seems just devastated. Were they close friends?”

Enhyla sighed. “Friends, in a way. But they were bonded, because they shared a common duty.”

“But I didn’t think Yatol was a scout. Khymranna was a runner, wasn’t he?”

“Yatol is a scout when needed – as you just saw. But no, he is not a true runner like Tyhlaur and Khymranna.”

I stared at Yatol, suddenly uneasy. “Then what duty did they share?”

I turned back to Enhyla when he didn’t answer. Enhyla was watching Yatol too, and presently he said, “He is stronger than you know.”

That terrified me. I had no idea what he meant, but it sounded so ominous. More than the shrieks and darkness we’d left behind, those words made everything feel like a nightmare. I don’t know why it struck me that way. It was all a nightmare.

Tyhlaur went to take up a sentry post near the trees, and a moment later Damian left me too. He got to his feet and went to Yatol, crouching down beside him and gazing out over the forest.

“What did you learn?”

Yatol shot him a quick glance, the sorrow vanishing from his face – or maybe he just hid it immediately. He gestured back the way we had come.

“They march this way. We saw them send out a small group. They were to comb the area before them, but…we hindered them.”

Damian grinned. “I noticed your weapons are gone. Is it hard, fighting them?”

“If you mean, is it frightening,” he said, and shrugged, “then no. Not very much so. But it is hard, because you see they never are wounded. No matter your own strength or skill, it never stops them fully.”

“Have you fought them many times?”

“Aye, I suppose,” Yatol said with a small smile.

Damian sighed. “In a way I envy you.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t say why.”

He left Yatol then, and came back to Kurtis and me. Kurtis must have been listening in on their conversation too.

“I agree with you,” he said. “I envy the people of this world, especially those who can fight its battles. It’s what you love about the old stories and the myths.” He shook his head. “Well, to have the strength to fight them – that I envy. But the duty to do so? That’s harder.”

I was about to ask him to explain when Tyhlaur suddenly spun around and raced back to us.

“Those fiends!” he shouted as he ran. “They’re nearly here. Go! Go! There’s no more time!”

I turned back to the forest. It seemed to seethe, all its beautiful light quenched into utter blackness. The Ungulion made no sound as they approached, or no more sound than a whisper of a breeze might make. But somehow it felt deafening. Instinctive alarm woke in me, and I reached into the little pouch on my belt. Pyelthan burned like ice. Darkness seeped toward us. The blood pounded in my head with the panicked race of my heart.

“I thought you said they were coming slowly now?” I cried.

“Not the dispatch,” Tyhlaur said, grim. “They fly.”

My fingers brushed Pyelthan again, and I ran to Yatol. “Yatol, what are we going to do?” I dropped a step away from him, seeing his face. “We can’t outrun them, can we?”

“No, Merelin.”

The air throbbed. They were so close, I could almost feel them. I glanced back at the others. They seemed frozen. It’s like they all gave up thinking we could escape. All except Damian. He knelt on the ground, head bowed and hands clenched in fists.

Something was wrong. I wanted to move. Yatol beside me wanted to move. Neither of us could. Side by side, we stared at Damian, at the figure standing before him. We couldn’t hear their words. Suddenly Damian turned toward me, and our eyes met for the briefest moment. My heart caved in as he looked away with a nod.

I screamed and stretched out my arms, as if I could grab him and drag him with us. My hands caught swirling air, hugged cold eerie emptiness. And then the world tore away from my feet. Grey-gold mists swallowed me, only to dissipate just as I found my palms and knees dropping to the warm dusty earth.

“Damian!”

I couldn’t see anything but dirt. Everything careened wildly around me, and I couldn’t focus. Could hardly breathe. Stabbing pain shafted through my head. I forced myself up, but my legs wobbled and buckled and I collapsed into Yatol. I hadn’t even seen him standing close behind me. He called my name, letting me sink back to my knees with his arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, but I just kept staring around until the haze receded. There were Kurtis and Enhyla, both unconscious. Tyhlaur a little farther away on hands and knees, coughing. Yatol. His hand in my hair, holding my head close to his shoulder, not looking at me. Throat tight, eyes squeezed shut.

I pulled away from him, scuttling back three feet and trying vainly to stand up.

“Yatol, where’s Damian?”

I didn’t wait to hear his answer. Shouting Damian’s name, I managed to gain my feet and staggered forward half-blind. I couldn’t choke back the racking sobs. A fragrant tree tendril brushed my cheek but I batted it away and stumbled on through a maze of trees. I didn’t know where I was heading, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Damian. I had to find him.

Almost too late my blurred vision focused on a burnished spearhead, poking through the gossamer not a foot from my face. I reeled back and felt a hand clamp on my shoulder. A scream rose in my throat but another coarse hand pressed over my mouth.

“Be quiet, girl!”

I stood statue-still, hands shaking. I couldn’t see anyone, not the man with the spear, certainly not the one close behind me, holding me painfully tight. After a moment the brush parted and a hooded figure stepped out, still leveling the spear’s point at my neck. He tugged back his hood, revealing a head of fiery red hair and glinting dark eyes staring suspiciously at me. I could have sworn the tip of the spear was only a few inches from my neck. He had it pointed straight at the vein that I’m sure was pulsing visibly, my heart was beating that hard.

“Hold her,” he said through clenched teeth. He took one step closer, but the spear stayed where it was. “Are you true?”

“What?” I gasped.

“She doesn’t know,” said the man behind me. “She’s one of theirs.”

That didn’t sound good. “One of whose? Let me go!”

“Lohka!”

Thank God. I watched in relief as Yatol emerged from the shadows. He swiped the spear away and then leveled such a furious glare at the other man that he snatched both hands away from me as if I’d suddenly caught fire.

“Yatol! What are you doing?” Lohka gasped, shifting the spear. “She’s one of theirs!”

“You know him?” I cried, at the exact moment the other man said, “Do you know who this is?”

“Do you?” Yatol reached out to me, and I stumbled into his arms. “This is Davhur’s daughter. Take us to the camp. We need to speak to Syarat. Tyhlaur and I just encountered the Ungulion host.”

From the safety of Yatol’s arms I peered at the second man, a roughened older soldier with a graying beard and two twisting scars snaking down his arms. He didn’t carry any weapons that I could see, but he had huge, strong hands. My bruised shoulder would prove that, I could tell already. It still felt like an iron weight was digging into it.

“Encountered them?” he said. “And you survived?”

He exchanged a glance with Lohka, who frowned and said, “How do we know you didn’t give them information?”

“What?” Yatol and I both cried at the same time.

I glanced up at Yatol, saw the pain and confusion in his eyes.

“Yatol, let’s go. We have to find Damian. Please.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to say without the tears coming. Yatol didn’t answer. His hand released my shoulder, and he took a couple of steps toward the men. They beat a hasty two-step retreat, restoring the distance between them and him.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Yatol said, lifting his hands. “Verin?”

“I can smell them on her. Death. Ungulion.”

My face went cold, and my stomach churned. I smelled like them?

Some strange low trill sounded farther into the trees, but it didn’t register until Lohka stepped suddenly aside with an expectant glance over his shoulders. In a moment the gossamer veil swung aside and two more men materialized out of the shadows, both armed. Before I realized what had happened, Yatol and I were surrounded. I stared around at them, disbelieving.

“What’s the matter with you all? Did you forget who the enemy is?”

“Did you?” Lohka asked, leveling the spear at my neck again.

I was so angry I forgot to be afraid. “Get that thing away from my throat!” I cried, batting it aside. “My brother is out there! He’s probably –”

I choked on the words. All the fire and fury died, and I dropped my hands, cold, shaking. My eyes flitted from one man to the next, never really seeing any of them. I could only see Damian. My vision swam, my lungs closed. I couldn’t even sob, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk. God, please let him be okay.

I turned to Yatol, met his gaze. Why didn’t he say anything? Why did he just stand there, staring at me like that?

“What is this madness?” Enhyla cried, appearing through the trees, Tyhlaur and Kurtis close behind. “Put away your weapons, all of you!”

“Why should we listen to you?” Verin said.

I broke out of my fog with a gasp of horror. Did he just say that? To Enhyla, the Lord Master?

“You spend too much time in the outer reaches, Enhyla,” he went on. “Too close to the Void. Maybe it’s gone to your head.”

I almost threw myself at him in fury, but Yatol beat me to it. He moved too quickly for me to see, too quickly for any of the others to stop him. Two steps and three quick blows, and suddenly Verin collapsed to the ground with a sickening crack. I didn’t even see what Yatol had done, but somehow he had gotten Lohka’s spear and now stood over Verin, one foot on his chest and the spear tip pressed under his chin. Verin’s lower leg twisted to the side at an unnatural angle, and sweat poured over his grimacing face. I stared in horror, transfixed.

“Who are you calling a traitor, Verin?” Yatol gritted. “Enhyla and the outer watch risk everything day by day to keep you safe at night, and you call him a traitor?”

“Get off me, Yatol.”

“Yatol...” Enhyla began, stepping toward him, but one of the newcomers leveled his spear at him, halting him.

“You’re all crazy!” I shouted. “You’re crazy! Don’t you know what’s going on? Don’t you have any idea?”

I glanced back at Tyhlaur. He just stood there watching the whole scene, frozen. I wanted to strangle him. Didn’t he care? But then I realized it wasn’t apathy at all that kept him paralyzed beside Kurtis. The fear shone in his wide eyes, too plain to mistake. Fear, even guilt. Guilt? I stared around at the men, the deep suspicion in their eyes burning hatred at me.

“Are you true? Any of you?” I found myself face to face with Lohka. I didn’t even realize I had gone over to him. “Are you?”

“You’re none of my people,” Lohka hissed. “I don’t know you.”

I glanced across at Yatol, still pinning Verin to the ground, then at Enhyla, poised at spear’s end nearby.

“What about Tyhlaur? You know him, I’m sure.”

Tyhlaur gave an audible gasp of surprise, then all at once he was behind me, jerking me away from Lohka.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

Someone shouted something, then two strong hands reached between us and dragged Tyhlaur away from me. Kurtis. It took me a moment for his words to translate in my mind – “Get your hands off her!”

“Tyhlaur?” Yatol called, warningly. “What have you done?”

Tyhlaur stood stricken, staring at his brother wide-eyed in anguish. His gaze shifted, falling on the three men surrounding us, then finally on me, before it wrenched back to Yatol. He stumbled a step, then suddenly he spun on one of the men, grabbing his spear and twisting it out of his grasp. Kurtis jumped in front of me, but Tyhlaur didn’t aim the weapon at any of us. He shifted it around, pointing it at Lohka.

The three men clustered together, as if on cue, all of them weaponless. Somehow Enhyla had stolen the spear from the last attacker without anyone’s notice. He didn’t point it at anyone, though, just stood leaning on the haft like it was a walking stick.

“Lohka, where is Master Syarat?” he asked, quietly.

“How should I know?”

“What’s going on?” Kurtis whispered to me. “Where is Damian?”

I covered my mouth to stifle the sob. When I’d recovered my breath I said, “These men are accusing Yatol and Enhyla of being traitors. Tyhlaur knows them somehow. I thought maybe he would side with them, but I don’t think he will.”

That was all I could say. I clamped my mouth shut, forcing a steady breath, staring fixedly at the cluster of men in front of us. Kurtis put a hand on my shoulder.

“Merelin? Where’s Damian?”

Don’t think it. Don’t. I backed away from him, two steps, three. “He’s gone!” I screamed. “Don’t you understand? They took him! Why doesn’t anyone understand?”

I sank onto the ground, wrapping my arms around my head. Memories from the Gorhiem Bolstoed flooded my mind. The stench. The blackness. Azik. Oh God…

“Where is Syarat?” Yatol, threatening.

“In the camp, where else? That way.”

“Take us.”

“No.”

A howl of pain, agonizing. I jerked my gaze up in time to see Yatol with his heel pressed against Verin’s twisted knee. His face, so angry. My stomach flipped.

“Take us.”

“We’re not exactly welcome there,” Verin muttered, hostile.

A low harsh laugh escaped Yatol’s lips. “And you questioned our honor.”

“They’re failing. You are all failing!” Lohka cried, but Tyhlaur jabbed the spear at him and his hands shot up protectively. “We’re not the only ones who think so. There’s a whole movement rising up in Alcalon.”

“At a time like this?” Yatol said, but his gaze was fixed on Tyhlaur. “The Ungulion are even now marching to lay siege to the city, and you thought it would be a good time for a revolution?” He speared a dangerous glare at Lohka. “Who’s actually aiding the enemy? You! You’re the traitors.”

“We didn’t want it to be that way,” one of the others said. “We didn’t know the Ungulion were on the move.”

“Then end it now,” said Enhyla. “Send a runner back to the city and quell the rebellion. There will be time for making things right when all this is over.”

“I’ll go,” said the fourth man, who hadn’t spoken yet.

Verin made some grimace from his back on the forest floor, but Lohka nodded.

“Go, Rim. Tell them I said it. Tell them to call it off.”

Rim shot off at once into the trees, going almost without a sound. Yatol finally left Verin, not even offering him a hand to get up. He just turned away, tossing the spear aside. His eyes still blazed in a face pale with anger, fixing dark and silent on Tyhlaur. Tyhlaur stood statue-still. Shame and guilt and fear were etched all over his face. He didn’t even jump when Yatol grabbed him by the arm and propelled him into the nearby trees. I couldn’t hear what Yatol said to him, and I couldn’t see a thing. Both of them stood facing away from us. Only the murmur of their voices drifted faintly across to me.

Kurtis inched closer to me, following my gaze to stare at the two brothers. He didn’t say anything, but I knew perfectly well that he was waiting for me to explain what was going on. I couldn’t. All I wanted was for him to go away and leave me alone. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. Except Yatol. But then, I wasn’t sure about that either. I’d never seen him so angry.

The thought made me glance back at Verin, or where I expected him to be with his twisted leg. Almost too late I saw him writhing on elbows and stomach toward the trees, reaching out with every wriggling motion for the spear half-buried in the undergrowth. And I just stood and stared, unable to move. Incoherent thoughts tumbled through my mind. Why didn’t anyone stop him? Why didn’t anyone notice? Kurtis, oblivious. Lohka and the other man were talking quietly together, and Enhyla had turned away, standing some fifteen feet away from us now with his arms folded and chin buried against his chest.

I had to stop him. My pulse raced, and I went cold all over. A spasm twinged across my bruised shoulder. He reached the spear. What could I –

Panic lurched me into motion. I felt the earth firm under my pounding feet. Couldn’t hear a sound. Saw Verin haul himself upright, gripping the spear. I leapt forward, felt the smooth haft meet the palms of my hands. Then the world was tumbling, treetops at my feet, earth sinking to meet my head. Somewhere between the sickening thud of my back meeting a trunk and the taste of dirt in my mouth I heard a shout, a scramble, and deafening silence. Such a silence.

I couldn’t see anything but shadows. My ribs ached with every breath, and my right arm throbbed, pinned awkwardly half behind my back. I wanted to move, but could only lay there. Waiting. Did I stop him? Is Yatol all right?

Somewhere nearby I heard a soft footfall against the earth, the rustle of plants. Relief hit me hard, but I couldn’t even manage to cry. I just whimpered into the dirt, praying. God, please let me be all right.

“Merelin.”

At the sound of Yatol’s voice the tears started falling, dripping down over my nose. Yatol’s hand fell gently on my shoulder, the other touching my head, stirring back the hair that matted my face. I made an effort to glance up at him, meeting his anxious gaze.

“Oh, Merelin,” he murmured. “Can you move at all?”

It took all my effort to choke out a voice. “I don’t know. Everything…hurts.”

Enhyla appeared beside him, bending over me. He reached out a calm hand, running it over my back until I winced. Then he pushed a little harder, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain.

“Nothing is broken. Not that I can feel. I’m not sure about her arm.”

Yatol slid his arms around me, carefully and gently pulling me away from my crushed position against the tree. He held me while Enhyla examined my arm, prodding the bruised skin to see if it was broken. I thought I was going to be sick.

“Stop, stop,” Yatol said, pushing Enhyla’s hand away.

“I don’t believe it’s broken. Just badly injured. The healer at Syarat’s camp can see to it, if we can just get her there.”

“I can try to walk,” I said.

I watched Enhyla move away, going to join Tyhlaur and Kurtis where they stood worried nearby. When he had gone I glanced back up at Yatol, but he was staring at something in the distance, jaw set.

“Yatol, what happened?”

He lowered his gaze, looking me in the eyes until I blushed and turned away. After a moment he supported me into a sitting position, keeping hold of me while I adjusted to being upright. That’s when I saw Verin. I froze. I knew he was dead without anyone telling me. I couldn’t tell how at first, until I saw his head, twisted strangely, unnaturally. Just like his knee.

My good hand shot up to my mouth. I’d never seen a corpse before. His face like a mask. Glazed eyes staring blankly in my direction. He couldn’t see me. He wasn’t there. I didn’t realize I was shaking until I felt Yatol’s arm tighten around my shoulder. He hugged me gently against his chest, his face close to mine, shielding me so that I couldn’t see the body.

“Don’t look, Merelin. You don’t need to see that.”

“Who did it?”

The question blurted out before I could stop it. I didn’t want to know. Or I already knew the answer, and I didn’t want to hear Yatol say it. For once I was glad of his silence. I couldn’t process the idea, not just now. I needed to think.

Yatol helped me to stand up, still staying between the dead body and me. The world tottered a little when I gained my feet, but Yatol didn’t let go of me. Every nerve in my back flared with pain, making my legs wobble weakly, and I was still shaking all over. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or some deep residual fear. I tried drawing a breath to calm my racing pulse, but it hurt too badly.

Idiot.

“Lohka! How far to the camp?”

The redhead only half-turned to glance in our direction, shame written all over his face.

“Kurtis,” Yatol said, gesturing to him. “Come help me.”

Kurtis came over and wrapped an arm around me to help me stand. As soon as Yatol saw me steady he strode over to Lohka.

“Is she all right, Yatol?” I heard Lohka murmur. “I never wanted that to happen. I didn’t know that Verin would…”

“Are you all right?” Kurtis asked me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what was happening.”

“I think so. I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Can you walk?”

I tried a few tentative steps, forcing back the grimace as I hugged my hurt arm to my chest. “I’ll manage.”

“The camp isn’t far,” Yatol said, coming back to us. “Apparently they were just there, trying to steal rations. Merelin, if Kurtis and I help you, can you make it?”

“I’ll try.”

“Do you really think Rim will take the message to the city?” Kurtis asked.

“I hope so,” Yatol said, sighing. “They’re misguided fools, but they do have some honor.”

“Honor! They were stealing rations.”

“Kurtis!” I cried, staring up at him. “You…you understood that.”

“Understood what?”

Suddenly I wanted to laugh, but I choked it back – it hurt too much. Kurtis turned his gaze from me to Yatol, the confusion on his face just priceless.

“Maybe you were always meant to come here, too,” I said.

A brief smile flashed across Yatol’s face. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late.”