She and Kevin followed after as best they could. Naitachal, dazed and exhausted, somehow managed to keep pace with them—
But if we don’t find shelter soon, Kevin realized, he’s going to collapse—and w with him.
But just when the bardling had decided they must have died and been condemned to an eternity of dark and wet and endless, thorny paths, Tich’ki came fluttering back. She landed on Lydia’s shoulder, panting, wings drooping wearily. But Kevin saw her sharp little teeth flash in a grin.
“Shelter,” she crowed. “Just up ahead: a big old shell of a tree. Hurry up, you’ll see.”
She was right The oak must have been truly ancient, incredibly vast in girth and all but dead. Time and age had worn a deep hollow in the base, a natural cave just big enough for two humans, one elf and a fairy to fit inside. It smelled strongly of animals and decaying wood, but it was blessedly dry and carpeted with a thick layer of crumbled leaves. Kevin, sure he was soaked to the very bone, couldn’t make up his mind whether to remove his cloak and freeze or keep the soggy thing wrapped about him and stay wet. Hopefully, he thought, the combined body warmth of four living beings would warm the tree-cave soon enough.
“Naitachal—”
The Dark Elf had fallen to his knees with a faint groan. Lydia hastily dropped to his side. “All right, I know you’re hurt. Let me see that arm.”
“In here?” Tich’ki cut in. “Thought you humans couldn't see in the dark.” She added in sudden alarm, “You’re not going to try lighting a fire?”
“In a tree? D’you think I’m mad?”
“I—No. That’s too easy a jest”
Kevin bit his lip nervously, just barely able to make out Naitachal’s crumpled form in the darkness. “I’ll try the Watchwood Melody again,” he said in sudden inspiration. “You know, the light-spell. I... think I can get it to last longer this time.”
There wasn’t much room to take the lute out of its case, let alone play it, but by squirming his way back into the tree-cave, Kevin managed to hit the proper notes and chords. He began to sing, hesitantly at first, his singing voice feeling rusty from disuse, then more strongly, secure that the storm outside would drown out the sound and praying that his small magics wouldn’t be noticeable to Carlotta.
And Bardic Magic stirred within him—The tree-cave began to glow with a feint, steady light, and Lydia nodded in satisfaction.
“Now,” she told Naitachal, “you will let me see that arm.”
The Dark Elf, eyes closed, made no move to stop her. Kevin winced at the sight of the long slash running halfway down Naitachal’s upper arm, but Lydia didn’t seem particularly worried.
“Arrow just grazed you. That arm’s going to be sore for a time, but hopefully that’ll be about the worst of it.” She paused. “You aren’t hiding any other wounds, are you?”
“No.” It was a weary whisper of sound. “My cloak cook most of the damage.’’
“Ah, so it did. Look at those holes.” The woman held up a fold of black fabric and gave a soft whistle. “You were lucky, my friend.”
Naitachal winced. “Another was not,” he murmured faintly.
“Ah. Well. I—uh—don’t think Eliathanis would begrudge us a chance to take care of the living before the—before we—’’
“Before we mourn the dead. Lydia, do what you think necessary to this slash, then let me rest”
She blinked at his suddenly cold tone. “Sure.” The woman hunted through the pouches hanging from her belt for a time. “Oh damn. My healing herbs are all back in the castle. Some oh so helpful lady’s maid must have tried to ‘neaten up’ my stuff when I wasn’t watching.” Lydia paused, holding up a small flask. “I do still have this, though.”
“Water?” Tich’ki piped up. “Should think you’d had enough of water by now.”
“It’s not water, believe me.”
“Ah, the brandy! How’d the maid miss that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a good thing she did. Naitachal, you want to take a good swig of this, then bite down on something. This is going to hurt like hell, but at least it should ward off wound-sickness.”
Kevin winced in sympathy, nearly losing his hold on the light-spell, as she poured the brandy on the arrow-gash.
Naitachal never made a sound. Instead, endurance finally exhausted, he simply fainted.
“There, now,” Lydia said after a moment. “That’s bandaged as best 1 can manage, what with nothing really dry. You can stop singing now, Kevin.”
The light was already fading, because the bardling’s voice was quavering so much he could barely hold the tune. He broke off abruptly, and the tree-cave was plunged back into darkness.
“Kevin? What is it, boy? What’s wrong?”
“I d-don’t ... I... Eliathanis ...”
“Oh hell, kid, don’t be embarrassed. Nothing wrong with grieving, be you woman or man.”
But Kevin battled with himself till he’d fought back the tears. “I—I don’t understand him!”
“Who? Naitachal?”
“How can he suddenly turn so ... cold? Eliathanis was his friend! Why isn’t he grieving?”
“Ach, Kevin.” Lydia’s voice was very gentle. “He is. That coldness was to hide his real feelings. Look you, I’ve seen a lot of people die. Too many,” she added softly. “That’s part of being a warrior. I’ve mourned a lot of them, too, and that’s also part of being a warrior. True grief isn’t something you can command. It comes out when and where it will.”
All at once Lydia gave a long, tired sigh. “You know something? I enjoy traveling and all that but, times like this, I really wish I had a place to come home to.”
She stopped for a thoughtful moment, then added with an embarrassed little laugh, “Like that castle we just left. If it wasn’t already inhabited by that bitch-witch and her buddy, it might make a good place to settle. Despite all the hassle, the place itself had a nice homey feel to it. Or do you think that’s too crazy?”
“Not at all.” Kevin straightened, staring in her direction in the darkness. “There were times in that casde when I was really miserable; I admit it. But underneath it all, even with those two running things and those spoiled brats of squires, there really is something there that could make it a good place to live!”
Working by touch, he fit the lute back into its case. “Ah well. Let’s not dream about catching the moon, as Master Aidan would say.”
Lydia chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t know about that Dreams aren’t such a bad thing to have. And sometimes—who knows? Sometimes you do catch that moon.” Kevin heard the dried leaves rustle as she stirred. “Come on, kid, enough talk. 1 have a suspicion we’re going to be leading an active life in the next few days, so let’s try to get some sleep while we can. If we huddle together with Naitachal, we should be warm enough. Hungry, bruised and battered,” Lydia added wryly, “but warm enough.”
“Kevin!”
The fierce hiss brought the bardling awake with a start. “Naitachal?” The tree-cave wasn’t as totally dark as it had been, but even so, the Dark Elf’s eyes still glinted with their eerie red light. “What—” Kevin sat bolt upright. “Carlotta! Has she—”
“She hasn’t found us. Not yet. But I felt her sorcery brush us just now. And she has set loose her hunters.”
“Not human hunters,” Tich’ki added, perching beside Kevin for a moment, “not all of them. I sensed that, too.”