"Here. Try carrying your own weight for a bit." Then, when Jaened clumsily slit the rabbit's throat rather than the skin, she coughed, "You think the Tassin will take you when you can't even skin a rabbit?"
"You know, I'm beginning to think I should have left you in that cell," Jaened snapped back. "I've been locked up for eight bloody years. How many skills do you expect me to have?"
Seeing the tension nearing a breaking point, Kalen took the rabbit and gently suggested that Jaened go find some wood for a cookfire. Eldan agreed, warning him to stay in sight because, "If you get caught, don't expect me to come to your rescue."
Kalen cut away in silence for a few minutes, then finally asked Eldan, "This isn't just about Jaened, is it? I mean, you've been getting tenser every minute for the past two days."
Eldan slit down the center and quickly gutted her skinless rabbit before replying. "We are being tracked. That's obvious. But why haven't they attacked yet? By now, they must know that we aren't going to lead them anywhere. If we are that important to them, they would have attacked us. If not, they would have turned back."
"How do you know we're being tracked? I haven't heard or seen anything."
Eldan pointed to their left. "They're just beyond those bushes. They are skilled--I seldom see or hear them. We only halt when I know where they are."
Kalen squinted where she indicated but saw nothing. "How many are there?"
"I don't know. There could be only one, or there could be a dozen." She glared resentfully at the still bushes. "We can't do anything until we lose them. We've led them on a wild chase, but we should have lost them long since. Even the best of the Tassin trackers couldn't have followed our trail. Even the Naresh would have lost our scent, and they don't have one with them. If Fellyre has trackers like this, they've been holding out on us. Who knows what else they've been hiding? Are they just playing with us?"
"It's just one tracker--"
"But it's not!" Eldan interrupted. "We've been getting hints. Our scouts have reported strange sights near Fellyre--fire and fumes and other weapons we know nothing of. Just last month, one of our families--mother, father, four children--simply disappeared. Even their shelter was gone like it had never been there. They were in the middle of our camp. No one could have come in and they couldn't have left. The lookouts saw nothing."
A dry laugh turned their attention. The bushes were moving now. Eldan sprang to her feet, sword ready as a tall, grey-clad figure emerged.
"Another step and you're dead." Eldan warned, readying her blade to throw.
The newcomer smiled. "You couldn't hit me from there. Your sword is ill balanced." She, for it was a woman, held up her hand, four short blades locked between her fingers. "But I do not have that problem."
Eldan stiffened and lowered her blade. "Are you alone?"
"You actually expect me to answer that question?"
Kalen caught Eldan's glance past the stranger. Jaened was silently approaching, a heavy branch in his hand. "You tracked us across the stream. How?" She demanded.
"I am not a tracker."
"What are you then?"
"Assassin." Jaened raised the stick--and, without looking back, the woman caught him by the throat with her left hand. He dropped the branch to claw at her fingers, and, with a twist, she forced him to his knees. "You were stalling. That won't protect you."
For the third time, Kalen realized that he was dead. Only this time, there was no way out. Eldan's eyes said it all as she dropped her sword point first into the turf. Their killer smirked. She was almost too tall to be a woman--her voice was the only thing which betrayed her gender. Kalen wondered if she would kill them quickly. But she didn't.
"You have food. I'm hungry." She released Jaened, who fell to the ground gasping, then ordered them to finish preparing the rabbits. Kalen had started hundreds of fires, but he fumbled over this one. He wondered if she would make them dig their own graves next.
She ate slowly, her eyes never leaving the prisoners. Her fingers played idly with the knives. Pray that your death comes by a sword. Dallaris had said that once, warning about the cruelty of short blades.
"We won't tell you anything." Eldan said at last.
The self-proclaimed assassin grinned. "What could you possibly know that I do not? We know where your Tassin camp is. It's just not worth our time."
"And we are?" Jaened asked.
"You are. Symorkhel wants you back. Your sister is essential to Zerak's purposes, and you alone, as the only one who knows and cares about her, could thwart his plans."
"I don't care about Zerak and his plans--or Ithein, for that matter. All I want is to know that Erissa is safe."
The assassin's jaw tightened. "But you are not Fellyrian. Surely you wish ill on Zerak and his servants."
"I don't care if Zerak rules the world. All I want is my sister."
"Then you're right. I should have turned back long ago and not wasted my time on you. I was not sent by Symorkhel. I came of my own accord--not to kill you, but to join you."
Eldan crossed her arms. "No you didn't. You came from Terraphel--if you were not sent, you at least have the priestess's permission."
"I could have killed you all and I didn't. Is that not proof enough that I am not your enemy?"
"Enemies come in many forms. Why would you turn on Fellyre?"
"I do not care for Fellyre--or Zerak and Ithien, like your friend. But I have reason to hate Symorkhel. The Sheela is her charge. Zerak would have her blood if she failed."
"Why are you so set against Symorkhel?" Kalen asked.
The assassin smiled coldly. "She is my mother."
No comments:
Post a Comment