She cast him away as if he weighed nothing. He flew off the table and onto the floor, collapsing in a motionless heap.
Aphen and Arling were already moving toward the tavern door. Cymrian was a step behind, hauling Sora along by his collar, shoving him forward. A few angry mutterings rose from the tavern patrons, but no one tried to stop them.
Moments later they were outside, trudging down the road toward the end of the village. Rain sheeted down, soaking them through. No one spoke. Cymrian released his grip on Sora, but the latter made no attempt at running away again. He simply kept pace as if this were the only choice open to him.
“I’m finished here, you know that?” he said to Aphen without looking at her. “Finished and done. I can’t go back. Not to those men. They’ll blame me for this.”
“You should have thought of that before you stole the seed,” she snapped at him.
He went silent for a moment. “Aquinel didn’t have anything to do with this, you know. It was all me. I took it when she wasn’t looking. I just wanted to sell it and give her something nice, something more than what I’ve been able to for all these years she’s stuck with me.” He trailed off. “You just need to know. It wasn’t her fault. She’s a good woman.”
Aphen wheeled on him and shoved him up against the side of a building. “Then take her and leave. Now. Pack a few things and go before they come for you. It will take them a day or so to muster the courage. Go somewhere far away, but get out of here!”
She reached in her cloak, brought out a handful of coins, and shoved them into his pocket. “Take these. Consider the matter of the seed settled. But don’t forget what happened here. Don’t try stealing from anyone again.”
She pulled him away from the wall and pointed him down the road toward his cottage. “She’s waiting. Look after her.”
She stood watching as he stumbled down the road and disappeared into the rain. She wondered if he would do what she had told him. She wondered if he would heed her advice about stealing.
She wondered if there was any hope for these people.
Then she grabbed Arling’s arm and, with Cymrian trailing, started back down the road toward the waiting Sprint.
Twenty-two
Seersha and Crace Coram flew their two-man north through the remainder of the day, making sure they kept well east of the Straken Lord’s army. Neither Dwarf had ever seen an army of this size, so massive and sprawling that it seemed to have no beginning or end, blanketing the countryside for as far as the eye could see. It let them better understand why the Federation army in Arishaig had been unable to defend the city. The Elves would be no more successful in trying to defend Arborlon.
“An evacuation is the only answer against a force of this size,” the Dwarf Chieftain insisted within minutes of surveying the onslaught below them.
“The Elves won’t give up Arborlon,” Seersha replied at once. “They won’t leave their home city. They won’t abandon the Ellcrys. They will stand and fight.”
“Which is madness,” her companion hissed in dismay.
“Maybe. But that’s the way of it. And it’s why I am setting you down outside Tyrsis as soon as we sight her. I need you to get word to the Border Legion. Let them know what’s happened, if they don’t know already. Tell them the Elves will need their support. Then fly on to the Dwarves and bring them, as well. Use the flatbeds for transport—as many as you can manage. No arguments from the other Chieftains. There’s no time for it.” She paused. “Can you do it, old dog?”
He scowled at her. “The ‘old dog’ will need three days to get reinforcements to Arborlon. Can you give me that?”
She grinned and nodded, and suddenly they were laughing. It was insanity, all of it hopeless, and there was nothing for it but to stare it down and laugh in its face. You did what you had to in a situation like this one. You did what your heart and your sense of right and wrong told you was needed.
They flew past the ocean of creatures serving the Straken Lord and continued north. It was close to midnight when she dropped him just west of the city of Tyrsis, the fortress settled high on the massive plateau overlooking the grasslands of the Streleheim. He would make the gates well before sunrise and do what he must to try to help her. She, in the meantime, would snatch a few precious hours of sleep, then go to the Elves and see if she could manage to open their eyes. Or, more particularly, the eyes of Phaedon Elessedil, who would most probably want her clapped in irons and locked away the moment he saw her.