“It wasn’t easy,” she said. “I managed to kill those first two right when they entered the clearing, then blinded the rest. That scared them enough to pull back, and from then on, I kept either blinding or striking the loudest of the brutes to keep them frightened.”
She shivered.
“Such horrible creatures,” she said. “They’re like the elves, only drained of everything good.”
“Good in an elf? I think you might have hurt your head in the fight.”
She laughed and elbowed him again. When she did, he jerked to the side, and when she leaned further in, he slid his arm around her and held her against him. She didn’t seem to mind, her head on his shoulder as they both stared into the crackling fire.
“Why did you follow me?” Haern asked, knowing he’d have to ask and wanting it out of the way now, while they were at peace and his father away.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
“Me? Trust me, Del, I can handle myself.”
“That’s not what worried me. You were to be alone and with him. I know you still bear scars from the way he raised you…”
He squeezed her tight, but it was less a gesture of comfort and more an excuse to say nothing, for he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m not the little boy I was,” he said, trying to explain it. “He’s still Thren, but this time, I think … I think I might be the one to reach him. I might be the one to show him a way to build a legacy without cruelty or murder.”
She snuggled in closer against him.
“I’m glad you’re trying, Haern, but he scares me nonetheless. Just … just don’t let him change you, all right? I’d hate to lose the sweet boy I first met all those years ago.”
He chuckled.
“You won’t lose me. So long as you’re here, I will be, too. What does surprise me, though, is that Tarlak was willing to let you go off alone.”
She pulled away from him, scoffing.
“As if I need his permission,” she said, feigning outrage. “But no, he was not pleased, especially knowing where you two are going and that I’d be alone. I only left a day behind you, though, and I caught up with the Bartlets over there, whole family riding west to start a new life in Ker. My hope was to find you when you neared the Stronghold. Needless to say, I didn’t expect you to find me in mid-battle.”
“I seem to be quite good at that,” Haern said. “Let’s see; there was tonight, and there was that first night Alyssa unleashed her mercenaries, where I found you hard-pressed at a fountain. Oh, and when I stumbled upon you and that Ghost fellow having a nice talk…”
“I believe I saved your life that time,” she said. “Or has your pride conveniently forgotten my blinding spell right when he was to cut you in half?”
“Well, that taught him to think a little girl like you was no threat,” Haern said. He smiled, but the remembrance was tinged with pain, for when he’d come stumbling into the Eschaton home, he’d found Senke badly wounded and leaning against the wall. He’d lived, but that same killer, Ghost, had finished the job during Haern and Senke’s combined assault on Leon Connington’s mansion, which had put an end to the thief war that had strangled the city for ten years.
Delysia fell silent as well, and he felt the memory hanging over both of them, stealing away the weightless mood.
“You pick strange company to keep, Watcher,” Thren Felhorn said, stepping out from the trees and into the light of the fire.
Haern grinned at his father.
“Of course I do,” he said. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
Thren grunted and took a seat opposite them of the fire. There was no hiding his disapproval of Delysia’s presence.
“Your humor is wasted at this hour,” he said. “Besides, we have decisions to make. The wagons will only slow us down, though if we share in their food, it might make up for the delay. Given our recent heroics, I’m sure it would be easy enough to take advantage of their gratitude.”
“There won’t be any need to take advantage of anyone,” Delysia interjected. “The Bartlets will share their food willingly, especially after all you’ve done.”
Thren paused, and he stared at Delysia like he would an animal that crawled up to him, opened its mouth, and began speaking.
“These matters do not concern you, woman,” Thren said. “I suggest you go join the wagons while we discuss. We have no need of a prostitute.”
Haern’s eyes spread wide, and he was too stunned to speak. Delysia, however, was not.
“I am a priestess of Ashhur,” she said, a hard edge entering her normally soft voice.
“Then you’re a whore for the wrong god,” Thren said, hardly caring. “At least with gold, you can accomplish something in this world.”
She moved to stand but Haern held a tight grip on her wrist, keeping her seated. He met his father’s eye, and his tone made his opinions clear.
“Delysia is a guest, and will be staying with us for as long as she pleases,” he said.
“Is that so?” Thren asked.
“It is. She’s a founding member of the Eschaton Mercenaries, and will prove valuable in our attempt to find Luther.”
“Valuable?” Thren asked, turning his attention back to her. “Is that what you are, Delysia Eschaton? Valuable?”
Something about the way he was staring at her, the way he said her name, made Haern suddenly uncomfortable. It was almost as if he recognized her somehow, but from where? Had Tarlak ever tangled with the Spider Guild prior to Haern’s joining them, perhaps?
“I will be no burden,” Delysia said, but the answer was unsatisfactory for Thren.
“So be it,” he said, rising to his feet. “I cannot do this on my own, and if this woman is a requirement for your aid, Haern, then I will endure. I take it we are to travel with the wagons?”
“Until we cross the Gods’ Bridges,” Delysia said. “After that, they will be continuing west at Umbridge while we head south.”
“Of course,” Thren said, his look a mixture of acid and condescension. “Good of you to plan our path for us. Perhaps you will be valuable after all.”
He wandered back into the forest, and at his departure, Haern felt Delysia relax considerably in his arms.
“How did you stand being alone with him for so long?” she asked, pulling her arms across her body as if cold.
“He’s not always like that,” Haern said. “Something about you set him off. I don’t believe he thinks too highly of Ashhur.”
“Of course not,” Delysia said. “There’s no room for gods in his heart. He already views himself as one.”
Haern shook his head, remembering the words he’d been taught.
“ ‘Let them think every breath of theirs is a gift,’” he echoed. “ ‘Not from the gods, but from you.’ Thren once taught me that.”
Delysia shivered.
“How horrible,” she said.
“That’s just who he is.”
“No, not that,” she said, staring off into the woods. “That he’d have you believe it yourself.”
Traveling with the families was pleasant enough, and they passed over the Gods’ Bridges with relative ease, which was fine for Delysia. The last thing she wanted after the orcs’ attack was excitement. Once at Umbridge, the three of them parted from the group and began their trek south. Travel was easy, given the fine weather, at least the physical aspect of it. Being around Thren Felhorn was always awkward, especially given the strange way he behaved when she was near. It was as if he knew a secret she did not, something that made him far more guarded than he had any reason to be.
Over the course of their travel, food had become something of an obsession for Delysia. As their smoked meat and dried grains ran low, dry tack became their food of choice. Boiling it helped a little, but it still hurt Delysia’s teeth and made her stomach cramp during their days of walking. Their only real fresh food beyond that was either from hunting (a rare kill should Thren or Haern manage to hurl one of their throwing knives and pierce a rabbit) or, more commonly, foraging for berries.