The days with the kainarin passed in unexpected peace. They were treated as honored guests, just as Erios had promised, and allowed to explore the encampment as they wished, though Aellyn could feel ever-watchful eyes upon them whenever they ventured from their tent. Aellyn found the forced reprieve strangely relaxing, using the time to catch up on lost sleep and pepper ever-patient Daelar with all manner of questions. Her other companions, by contrast, grew increasingly restless. Dacyne complained often about her confiscated steel and Conrad would grumble his agreement, each spending much of their time pacing the tent like caged animals. To give vent to their frustration, the two spent increasing amounts of time outside the tent in the small open space beside it engaged in hand-to-hand sparring sessions that would often occupy most of the day, stopping only to drink water or answer the call of nature. Aellyn was thankful for this, as their endless resentment was quickly beginning to wear on her patience. She understood how they felt, but as their circumstances were currently outside their control, the bitterness was unproductive.
That morning, Dacyne and Conrad had left the tent early to continue their training, leaving Aellyn and Daelar to their own devices. She sat on the floor of the tent leaning her back against one of the cots, her legs stretched out before her and crossed at the ankle, her arms folded across her chest. Daelar sat close by on the cot against which she leaned with his elbows propped on his knees, his slender fingers threaded together before him.
“I still don’t understand how it works,” she complained with obvious frustration. “It can’t be as simple as ‘think a thing, and it is’ or everyone would do it.” Daelar laughed.
“It isn’t that simple,” he agreed, his amusement evident in the lilt of his voice. “Though it seems like it may be for you.”
“If that were true, I’d have been doing it all my life,” she grumbled. “What’s different now?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Perhaps contact with your father and others who share your heritage have awakened something within you,” he mused. She mulled that over in silence. “I can only train you as I was trained, Aellyn,” he said sympathetically. “The rest you’ll have to sort out for yourself.” She let out a growl of frustration and let her head drop back to the cot behind her. She stared up at the ceiling of the tent for a long moment and let her mind wander where it would, observing the flow of her thoughts as one might watch the course of a river from its bank. “Try again,” Daelar urged gently after a moment. With a sigh, Aellyn lifted her head and fixed her gaze once more on the small empty pitcher that sat at Daelar’s feet. “Don’t think too deeply about it,” he instructed, and she let the thoughts drift from her mind.
Water, she thought. The feeling of some unseen power came to her then, an impression of this great and ever present energy that permeated everything, and she felt that if she could just see it, or touch it, she could tap into it and turn it to her will. The impression of a barrier came to her then, as if some invisible cord were tied around her, preventing her from reaching out and gaining access to the power she sought. She searched that feeling with her thoughts, reaching out with her mind as one might reach out with their hands in the dark. The vision of an illusory knot came to her then, and she paused, examining it closely. It felt… familiar somehow. She realized suddenly that the barrier felt almost like… a gentle embrace. It struck her as odd, but she shook the thought away and focused once more on the knot. It was simple enough, she saw now, and she untied it carefully, expecting some trap but finding none.
She opened her eyes. Blinking, she saw the pitcher at Daelar’s feet now sat full to the brim. Looking up at him, she found him regarding her with an amused expression.
“Well done,” he said quietly, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small grin. Realization dawned.
“You!” she exclaimed. He laughed openly then.
“Guilty, I’m afraid,” he admitted, chuckling softly. “Though I meant no mischief by it, truly. I wanted to see if you could undo the binding without my even telling you it was there.” He regarded her then, and she caught a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “I wasn’t disappointed,” he murmured.
“So that’s what your magic feels like,” she mused, more to herself than him.
“What did it feel like to you?” he asked curiously, drawing her attention back to him. Though his posture was casual, he watched her closely.
“It felt like…” she hesitated, feeling color rush to her cheeks. “It felt like an embrace. Warm, and gentle.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes as she spoke.
To that, he made only a soft, noncommittal grunt. After a thoughtful moment, he said, “You’ve seen it done. Try binding me.” She looked up sharply at that.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she hedged.
“Any binding you can cast, you can undo,” he explained patiently. “If I’m not able to undo it myself.” He gave her a grin, and she saw a challenge in his eyes.
“You may come to regret this,” she teased with a wolfish grin. He laughed. She shifted her seat then, turning to face him and bringing her legs up under her to sit on her heels.
“Likely,” he agreed affably. “But give it a try just the same.”
She closed her eyes then, and cleared her mind of everything but the task before her. She envisioned a wide, soft silken ribbon in her mind. She pictured him in her mind’s eye standing before her, and taking up the ribbon, she danced circles around him in her mind, twining the ribbon about him lightly as she went. She swathed him in ribbon from ankle to neck, tying it securely at the nape of his neck. Enjoying the game, she stepped before him and looked up at him, finding his eyes closed and his expression serene. Feeling impish, she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, then opened her eyes slowly, returning to reality.
She found him watching her intently and her stomach did a little flip. His lips curved in the barest hint of a smile as he regarded her.
“I’ll light the hearth once I’m free,” was all he said, and he closed his eyes. A heartbeat later, a small fire blazed to life in the tiny stone hearth in the center of the room. Aellyn felt a tickle at her neck suddenly that sent a shiver up her spine and gave her gooseflesh, and his eyes opened a moment later. “It was artfully done, if not particularly effective,” he said, chuckling. “You’ve clearly got the trick of it, anyway.” He gave her a reassuring smile, but the expression quickly shifted to a wry grin. “Though, you should be mindful of any other mischief you get up to,” and he pinned her then with a knowing look. “You may discover more than you bargained for,” he warned. “Try again,” he urged. “But this time put an emphasis on function rather than form,” he admonished her, but the grin that still tilted his lips took the sting from his words.
She gave a quick nod and closed her eyes again. This time, when she envisioned him standing before her, on sudden inspiration, she visualized invisible bands of air flowing in swift currents around his torso. She wondered how the lack of a knot would affect his ability to break free. Eager to satisfy her curiosity, she was about to open her eyes, but hesitated. Something he’d said had kindled a spark of mischief within her, and she decided to test another theory while she was at it. She stepped in close to him then, careful not to disturb the currents of air she’d placed around him, and ran her hands along his shoulders and up to his neck. She cradled his head gently in her hands and leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. She stepped back then and checked to make sure that the bands of air around him were undisturbed. Satisfied with her work, she let the vision fade and opened her eyes.
She found his eyes were closed and his brow was slightly furrowed, though his eyes came open a moment later. The look he gave her then spoke volumes, and she realized then that her mischief had not gone unnoticed. The azure depths of his eyes carried both warning and promise, but he said nothing, merely took a deep breath and closed his eyes once more. Aellyn waited, wondering what signal he would give once he’d freed himself from the binding now that the hearth was already crackling merrily behind her. A long moment went by and still he sat before her, eyes closed, his expression serene, and no obvious sign came. She felt movement at her collarbone then, and looking down in confusion, she watched as the laces of her linen shirt began loosening as if pulled by an unseen hand. The thin leather cord came free slowly and the fabric of her shirt parted as if brushed aside by a lover’s gentle touch, drawing a surprised gasp from her. She looked up suddenly and found Daelar watching her.
“Clever,” he said quietly. “You’ve intuited the proper way to cast a binding.” Though his tone was casual, his eyes held the promise of a reckoning. “Elemental currents are one of the most common methods employed by most mages.”
“So,” she began, clearing her throat. “I could use any element?”
“Your first instinct was the correct one for our purposes here,” he explained. “Currents of air will restrict the target without causing undue harm, but yes, any element could be used.”
“Wait,” her thoughts snagged on the implications of what he said. “If I’d chosen a different element… say, fire… I could have… hurt you?” The thought appalled her, and she wondered if he’d taken leave of his senses letting her play about without so much as a warning. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“In theory, yes,” he agreed. His tone was calm and his expression gentle. “But I would not have permitted it.” She looked up at him doubtfully. “Because I was expecting it, I could sense clearly what you were doing, Aellyn,” he paused then, and sat back, looking up to the ceiling of the tent as he often did when his thoughts turned inward and he struggled to find the words to express himself clearly. “Think of it like peripheral vision,” he said at last, though it was clear from his countenance that he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the analogy. “If something happens behind you, you don’t see it. But if you know something will happen behind you, you can turn to watch it.”
“And if something happens that you weren’t expecting, but you catch it out of the corner of your eye, you can turn to see it,” Aellyn mused, beginning to understand.
“Yes,” he confirmed, his tone relieved.
“So you would have done something to stop me if I was about to do something dangerous,” she followed the thought to its logical conclusion.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I wanted to give you the opportunity to experiment. There’s much satisfaction to be had from the lessons we learn for ourselves.” He smiled. “You have an intuitive grasp of the underlying fundamentals, Aellyn. I don’t want to stifle you with constant warnings. I trust your judgment. But I am here, if you need me.”
“Curse that woman and may Nolhok take her,” Conrad spat, bursting into the tent then and interrupting whatever reply Aellyn might have made. A stream of blood covered one side of his face and he walked with a pronounced limp. He cradled his right arm gingerly in the other, rubbing absently at his elbow. “Your sister plays rough,” he shot a miserable glance at Daelar as he slumped onto the other cot. Aellyn might have laughed, if not for the blood.
“Take it as a compliment,” Daelar advised mildly. “She believes you capable.”
“Are you alright?” Aellyn asked tentatively. She believed his pride stung more than his wounds and didn’t want to become the next target of his ire, but she was concerned for him.
“Fine,” he said in a low growl.
“I can have you patched up in a moment, if you like,” Daelar offered. Conrad looked up and regarded him for a moment, the battle between stubborn pride and practicality writ clear on his face. After a pregnant pause, practicality seemed to win the day, and Conrad gave a grudging nod, but said nothing.
Making no comment, Daelar reached into the neckline of the simple traveling tunic he wore and pulled out a small crescent moon charm that hung from a simple silver chain around his neck. Aellyn was momentarily taken aback by the similarity it bore to the charm she wore around her own neck. Perhaps it was made by the same craftsman, she mused. Daelar held the charm lightly in one hand and closed his eyes, murmuring a quiet prayer under his breath. The charm emitted a soft golden glow, and turning to watch Conrad, Aellyn found him limned in a similar gentle golden light. After a moment, he flexed his injured arm and found his range of motion returned. He stood then and walked with a confident stride to a small wash basin by the door of the tent and crouched, drawing a soft, damp cloth from it and wiping at the blood on his face.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he scrubbed at the blood and grime.
“Any time,” Daelar said casually as he tucked the necklace back into his shirt.
“It’s been some time since you’ve graced the training yard,” Conrad remarked, eyeing Aellyn over his shoulder.
“If you’re thinking I’ll be an easier mark than Dacyne, you’re mistaken,” Aellyn replied with a grin.
“Aye,” Conrad conceded with a wry grin of his own. “You’re as likely to dump my arse in the dirt as she is.”
“Though maybe not,” she mused. “Unarmed combat was never something I excelled at.”
“Fancy a go?” Conrad asked with a wolfish gleam in his eye.
“Haven’t you subjected yourself to enough punishment for one day?” Aellyn asked tartly.
“I like my odds,” he replied smugly.
“You would probably benefit from a bit of exercise,” Daelar said diplomatically, clearing his throat, though Aellyn could see clearly from his expression that he was curious to see the outcome of such a contest. With an exaggerated sigh, Aellyn climbed to her feet.
“Have it your way,” she said, walking past them and out of the tent.
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They faced each other across the open space next to the tent that Conrad and Dacyne had claimed as their practice ground. The dry grasses underfoot had been cropped close to the ground by gazing animals at some unknown point in the past, offering them good open ground in which to spar. Spying them squaring off, some nearby kainarin had gathered to watch, some even coming to stand boldly near Daelar, who stood off to one side, arms folded over his chest, watching with interest. The gathering crowd must have been larger than she realized, because before they could begin, Aellyn spied Grexos approaching through the crowd, which parted for him as he passed. When he reached Daelar’s side, he called out to them.
“Just what have we here?” his tone was gruff, as usual, but Aellyn could detect a note of amusement in it.
“A friendly sparring match,” Aellyn called back to him. “Though I’d prefer blades in my hands if it’s a good show you’re after,” she said hopefully. The kainarin seemed to consider this for a moment, eyeing her and Conrad both skeptically. To her astonishment, he nodded.
“That can be arranged,” he said, and turned to bark an order at some unseen member of the crowd. A moment later, a young kainarin emerged from the crowd carrying a bundle of practice swords in his arms. He hustled up to stand beside Grexos and waited patiently. “Will these do?” Grexos asked her.
“They’ll do,” Aellyn responded, casting a dangerous grin in Conrad’s direction. He gave only a casual shrug, seeming unconcerned, and they both approached to collect their arms from the waiting kainarin. Aellyn selected a pair of swords cut to resemble sabers, while Conrad chose a short sword and dagger for himself, as was his custom. Stepping back to her original place, Aellyn hefted the practice blades in her hands, testing their weight and balance. They were a far cry from her habitual blades, but they would serve. Looking across the yard, it seemed that Conrad had come to similar conclusion and now stood in a ready stance watching her carefully.
“Ready when you are,” he grinned at her.
“We’ll see,” she replied casually, rolling her neck slowly to give the muscles a gentle stretch. Dropping into a crouch, she gave him a curt nod and waited.
His eyes narrowed. He took a slow step forward and to his right, his blades held casually at his sides, the mocking grin still firmly fixed to his lips. Aellyn made no move other than to shift on the ball of her right foot, squaring to him again. She watched him calmly, keeping her expression deliberately blank. He advanced again, and again she made no movement, seeming content merely to watch him. He took another cautious step forward, smaller this time, bringing them nearly within blade’s reach of each other, and again she made no move, merely watched him, her blades held ready. This inaction seemed to frustrate him, and finally impatience got the better of him. He lunged forward then, quick as lightning, drawing a surprised gasp from the assembled onlookers.
But Aellyn caught his darting sword cleanly with one of her sabers, knocking it out wide and low. His dagger, which followed, she knocked out high with her other blade, and in a quick spin, she brought the first blade around in a cross cut that caught him across the ribs as she pirouetted beneath his dagger arm and out behind him. Lashing out with a quick kick that caught him in the backside, she sent him stumbling forward. Recovering his balance quickly, if not his dignity, he turned to face her again and stood in a more casual stance, his expression wry.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he conceded with a chuckle. Aellyn’s only reply was to advance on him, bringing her left saber down in a slashing cross cut from the right that he narrowly caught with a cross of his dagger and sword. He managed to dodge the swift stab of her other saber with a quick turn and backpedal, but she refused to allow him the opportunity to reset his stance, dancing after him with quick, fluid steps, her blades leading.
Aellyn worked her blades in a blur, pressing her advantage in a series of rapid attacks, utilizing her innate agility to unleash a sequence of quick slashes and fluid thrusts as Conrad was forced to employ his sword and dagger feverishly in defense. Between the quick, precise movements of her blades, Aellyn could see the sweat forming on his brow as he struggled to match her speed and though she gave no outward indication, internally, she smiled to herself. Occasionally, he would manage a riposte and counterattack of his own, but largely she kept him on the defensive, forcing him to give ground more consistently than he was able to gain it.
Finally, in frustration, he lunged at her. She danced neatly around his thrust, her steps light and graceful as she leapt and spun. Having anticipated her movements from long hours of observing her training back at the Manor, he came at her again in a more calculated assault, and when she brought her blades down to knock the thrust of his sword low, instead of stepping back to disengage, he advanced on her with his dagger held high for the final blow. Instead, she leaned back gracefully, throwing her arms out wide for balance, and flipped herself swiftly backwards, one booted foot knocking his thrusting dagger from his hand, sending it spinning across the yard, and the other catching him neatly on the chin, knocking him back to tumble onto the grass with a pronounced thud as her body arced gracefully over her head and she came to land in a neat crouch, blades held casually at her sides.
She stood then, looking down at him with only a hint of smugness in her expression, and the assembled crowd erupted in cheers and applause. On impulse, she spun on the ball of her foot then to face the crowd and favored them with a courtly bow. When she straightened, she tossed her practice sabers to Grexos, who caught them with a barking laugh, and she turned once more to Conrad who lay somewhat shamefaced in the grass nearby. She walked over to him then and leaned forward, extending a hand to him. He eyed it for a moment before reaching up to grasp her wrist, and she hauled him to his feet.
“Serves me right, I guess,” he muttered with a wry grin.
“You’re the one who wanted a match,” she reminded, offering him an answering grin.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied dismissively, putting a companionable arm around her shoulders and turning her in the direction of the quickly dispersing crowd. “Let’s find something to eat,” he suggested. “Nothing makes a man hungrier than a sound thrashing.”
With a laugh, she agreed, and they turned toward the tent.
“Good match,” Grexos commented as they approached. He stood beside Daelar, arms folded across his massive chest. “Erios would like to see you when you have a moment,” he told Aellyn, which explained why he’d lingered after the crowd had gone. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, and he turned and left without another word.
“Friendly fellow,” Daelar remarked mildly, watching the kainarin depart.
“He’s not so bad, I think,” Aellyn mused. “He’s been polite enough.”
“To you, maybe,” Conrad grumbled. “I’m starving.” He marched off to the tent, leaving Daelar and Aellyn behind.
“He was right, though,” Daelar said quietly turning back to her. “It was an impressive display.” He seemed to turn thoughtful then. “Perhaps it’s a good thing that you’ve established some martial competency early on before taking an interest in magic.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, curious.
“Well,” Daelar hedged, looking a bit embarrassed. “Your family—your father’s family, that is—aren’t exactly known for their martial prowess. They’re extremely skilled mages and scholars, but none of them ever showed much interest in training with a weapon of any kind,” he explained, clearly trying hard not to sound overly critical. She nodded, understanding.
“It’s not for everyone,” she observed. “But I’ve trained every day since I was old enough to hold a sword. Conrad was right to point out that I’d been lax about it recently, and it did feel good to hold a blade again. Even if it was only a wooden practice sword,” she admitted. “I’ll have to find a balance between studying with you and practicing with him,” she mused.
“For now, I think perhaps lunch was an excellent suggestion,” Daelar said, and abruptly turned, following Conrad into the tent, leaving Aellyn to trail along behind him.
After a quick and inexplicably tense meal, Aellyn left the tent to answer the chieftain’s summons. She’d been surprised to find Dacyne already in the tent when she’d entered for lunch, but the usually taciturn elf seemed even less inclined toward conversation, and Aellyn had opted not to press. She ate quickly and in silence, and had been grateful for an excuse to absent herself. She made her way quickly to the great tent at the center of the sprawling tent settlement, and hoped that this audience meant that the chieftain would be sending them on their way soon. While the respite had been much needed and put to good use, she was as eager as any of her companions to be underway once more.
When she entered the great tent, Aellyn found the chieftain lounging in his great throne as was his custom. Grexos stood to one side, arms folded across his chest, watching her silently as she walked the length of the tent, coming to stand before the dais upon which sat Erios in all his state.
“My scouts have returned from Goldtide,” the chieftain announced without preamble. “They have brought no word that would belie the story you have told us, but neither have they found any sign of your lost companions.”
“I see,” Aellyn said quietly, digesting this pronouncement and its implications.
“Your mounts and weapons will be returned to you, and you will be allowed to continue your journey,” the chieftain shifted in his seat then, cleaning forward to place his white, fur-covered arms on his knees as he regarded her. “You will be given supplies, enough to get you to Goldtide,” before she could thank him for this generosity, he continued, “Grexos will act as your escort to the city, to ensure that you and your party do not dally on kainarin lands.” He pinned her with a serious look. His attitude was not outright hostile, but it held a dark promise. “You will leave tomorrow at first light,” he stood then, stepping down off his dais and coming to stand before her. Gazing up, she found he stood head and shoulders above her, and she was struck then by the sheer size of him, which hadn’t been obvious when he’d been seated. He gazed down his long white muzzle at her, and seemed to smile then. He extended a long, clawed hand to her. “I wish you good luck in your travels, Aellyn Mistwind.”
She took his hand in a firm grip. “Thank you for your generosity and hospitality, Erios. I hope we will meet again some day under better circumstances,” she declared, and meant it. She found she was curious about the kainarin and their nomadic way of life and longed to spend more time among the tribe, but knew she hadn’t the time for such whimsy now.
“If Vernos wills it so, then so shall it be,” Erios replied and turned, nodding to Grexos, then climbed the steps of the dais and once more took his seat. The audience was over.
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Aellyn was slow to return to their tent, strolling down the main thoroughfare of the settlement at a leisurely pace. She took in the sights and smells of the busy village, knowing it would likely be her last opportunity to do so, perhaps forever. The ever present scent of roasting meats and baking breads carried on the wind as she passed, countless cookfires each lending their own unique blend of smokes and spices to the savory blend that filled the air. Everywhere she looked, she saw kainarin of all shapes, sizes and colors busy about the simple everyday tasks of living. Some glanced up curiously as she passed, others simply ignored her. She stopped briefly to watch as a circle of kainarin women sat around a small cookfire weaving dried rushes together into baskets and backpacks, their clawed hands working with surprising dexterity and gentleness as they worked the delicate materials into shape. One glanced up, sensing her regard, and offered a polite but distant smile before returning to her work. Aellyn gave a nod in acknowledgment and walked on.
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The sun was already setting when at last she reached the tent and ducked inside. To her surprise, she found only Daelar there. He sat reclined in the pile of cushions at the back of the tent with a small book in his hands; a tiny globe of light floated above one of his shoulders, illuminating the pages before him. He didn’t even glance up as she entered the tent.
“Where are the others?” Aellyn asked curiously.
“Just outside, I’d have thought,” he replied without looking up, his tone was quiet and his manner distant. With a shrug, Aellyn turned and left the tent again without another word, not wanting to distract him from his reading.
She rounded the tent toward their impromptu practice yard, thinking perhaps she’d simply missed them in the growing darkness, but the yard was empty. She glanced around curiously, but saw no sign of them. She detected movement out of the corner of her eye and turned. She spied a bit of fabric on the ground rippling gently on the evening breeze, peeking shyly from just around the tent. Curious, she moved toward it. The tableau that unfolded before her as she rounded the tent stopped her dead in her tracks.
There, on the ground just around the edge of the tent, Dacyne lay on her back in the grass. It was the long, dark sash of her belt that had caught Aellyn’s attention. Conrad knelt astride her, his hands cradling her head gently while her arms circled his ribs, as they shared a passionate kiss. Neither seemed to hear her approach, and without a word, Aellyn spun away from the scene and fled. With nowhere else to go, in a panic she simply dipped back into the tent and stood frozen just inside the doorway, speechless.
After a long moment, Daelar looked up from his book curiously. A small fire sprang to life in the small hearth, and in the dancing firelight that chased away the growing gloom of the room, he must have seen something on her face that disquieted him, because he bolted upright then and peered at her closely with narrowed eyes, his book forgotten.
“What is amiss?” he asked, a note of urgency in his tone. The tiny globe of light beside him winked out.
“Nothing,” Aellyn mumbled. “They… they’re outside, as you said.” She walked further into the room then, but her movements felt stiff and cumbersome, as if her body was not quite her own.
“Here,” he said, shifting on the cushions to make room for her. “I’ve stolen your place. It was more comfortable for reading,” he murmured in soft apology. As she drew near, he moved as if to stand, but she reached out a hand, bracing it on his arm as she lowered herself to the cushions beside him, and he kept his seat, watching her closely. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, his deep lilting voice barely a whisper.
She gave no answer. Instead, she merely gazed sightlessly into the dancing flames in the small hearth before her and slowly leaned into him, resting her head gently against his shoulder. She pulled her legs up, hugging her knees to her chest. He made no move, other than to turn and watch the crackling fire himself.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” she said quietly after a time. “Grexos will be escorting us to Goldtide.”
“I see,” he replied in a neutral tone. “When?”
“First light.”
“This… troubles you?” he asked carefully.
“No,” she gave a soft sigh. “Though I think perhaps when we arrive in the city we ought to send the others back to Andrinport.” Her tone was thoughtful, but carried an uncharacteristic stiffness. He gave a start. “If we can’t find Rom and the others, someone should probably notify my father and uncle.” It sounded like a lame excuse even to her own ears, but all she felt at that moment was numb and bone-weary.
“Aellyn…” Daelar implored her softly, tipping his head forward to try to observe her expression. “What has distressed you so?” He watched, horrified, as a single tear slid silently down her cheek. He shifted slightly then, putting an arm around her thin shoulders and drawing her against his side. His other hand, he reached across to guide her face gently into the hollow of his shoulder. “Tell me, and I will try to set it right,” he whispered to her.
“It’s nothing,” she murmured, but he could see her lips trembled as she spoke and there wasn’t much conviction behind the words. Her expression was distant, as if she gazed upon a far-off horizon he could not see.
“Then it should be an easy thing to tell me about,” he replied sensibly, but his tone was quiet and sympathetic. She shook her head.
“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” she asked quietly. His head jerked back in surprise.
“If you wish it,” was all he could think to say.
She gave a quick nod, and she shifted out of his embrace then, moving back on the cushions slowly. She watched him anxiously as she did, her manner stiff and uncertain. He moved to accommodate her as she stretched herself out on the side of the cushions closest to the wall of the tent, then moved in beside her, reaching for the blankets that lay in a nearby pile and spreading them carefully across their legs. When he lay back, she propped herself on an elbow and reached for his arm, pulling it around her before easing herself down to lay her head on his chest. He held her then, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her in close against him. She reached an arm across his stomach, hugging him tightly as she draped a leg over one of his and nuzzled her face into his chest. Gently, he stroked her hair, and despite herself, she felt warm and safe within his embrace. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before long she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A short time before dawn, Aellyn jolted awake. Beside her, Daelar gave a quiet groan of displeasure and rolled onto his side facing her and reached for her, his arm going around her waist and giving her a tug. Looking around dazedly in the soft glow from the embers of the dying fire, Aellyn wondered what had awoken her. She saw first the empty cot that Daelar typically shared with his sister. She turned her attention then to Conrad’s cot, knowing already what she would find, but some part of her needing it confirmed, and indeed, she spied two sleeping forms there. Neither moved nor made a sound, though Aellyn could hear some faint sound from outside the tent, and realized that must have been what woke her.
She gave Daelar’s shoulder a gentle shake and leaned down to whisper quietly in his ear, “there’s someone outside.” She watched in the dim light as his eyes fluttered open then and he turned his face to look up at her. She pointed to the door of the tent, then held a finger up to her lips, signaling for quiet. Coming quickly alert, he nodded understanding, then sat upright and turned toward the door. She clambered over the cushions then and padded silently over to the tent flap. Setting her back to the wall, she parted the flap carefully and peered out. Her posture relaxed immediately. “It’s Grexos,” she explained in a normal tone. “He’s brought the horses and supplies.” There was a questioning groan from the cot, but she ignored it and slipped out of the tent.
“Morning,” Grexos greeted her when she stepped outside. Their horses, she saw, were tethered nearby and their escort stood overseeing the loading of supplies into packs and saddlebags.
“Morning,” she replied dully. She hugged her arms to her chest against the predawn chill and regretted leaving the warmth of the tent without first donning a cloak.
“We should be ready to leave within the hour,” the kainarin explained, eyeing her. “Rouse your companions and ready yourselves for departure,” he instructed gruffly. “You can eat on the road.”
Aellyn heard the rustle of the tent flap behind her as Daelar emerged. Turning, she found he’d had the good sense to don a cloak before coming out.
“Is it just you traveling with us?” Daelar asked, coming to stand beside Aellyn and watching the preparations with curiosity.
“No,” Grexos replied. “Two more will be joining us.” He nodded then to a pair of kainarin busily checking the saddlebags and harness on a sleek, powerful chestnut stallion tethered nearby.
“We best wake the others,” Aellyn muttered and turned back toward the tent. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”
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