'Not now, anyway,' said The Unknown. 'Come on, we'd better get away. Try again when we stop this evening.'
Denser nodded. 'Yes. It's unlikely to be a long-lived effect. Or I hope it won't.'
'Unless it's a deliberate obscurement,' said Ilkar.
'Hmm. How, though? It's not a structure I recognised. It wasn't right, though.' He bit his lip, frustrated.
Hirad sheathed his dagger and got to his feet. 'It'll be all right, Denser.'
Denser blew out his cheeks. 'Nothing like a non-mage to give you confidence, is there?'
Erienne leaned over the post and retched again, her muscles convulsing, the taste of bile strong in her throat. Her stomach was long empty but the nausea sweeping through her didn't subside and hadn't for most of the morning.
Ren'erei had stood just far enough away to give her comfort but not too near to crowd her and add to her acute embarrassment. As Erienne straightened and turned to let the wind blow into her face, cooling the sweat on her brow, she walked forwards.
'It isn't seasickness,' she said. 'How can it be after this many days?'
'I know,' managed Erienne, her head thumping, her belly aching and protesting every time she took a breath.
'It must be something you ate,' she said, helping Erienne to sit on one of the net-covered crates on deck.
Erienne shook her head; she didn't have the energy to speak. She knew where the nausea originated but didn't want to have to explain it to Ren'erei. It wasn't food, it wasn't the gentle motion of the Ocean Elm, which was speeding towards Arlen Bay on a stiff and consistent wind. It was nothing that Ren'erei could comprehend even though she was an elf and so inherently magical. She didn't understand what it was that touched and aided her in everything she did. After all, she wasn't a mage.
Erienne was under attack. She didn't know from where or by whom and that scared her almost as much as what she was feeling.
On the mainland, only The Raven knew she was coming, so how she could have been targeted, she didn't know.
It had crossed her mind that she had fallen victim to a mana sickness. There were always claims bouncing around the Colleges that mana within a mage could become somehow infected. Erienne had always dismissed them but in the first flush of her nausea, she had been prepared to believe anything that would provide an explanation.
But as the hours passed and she regained some rationality, she'd ignored the notion in favour of hard fact. Her nausea had come on her like a blow from a hammer, and stirring her head like thick soup so she couldn't focus on her hand in front of her face. It had provoked a reaction in her body that was nothing to do with any physical sickness. And it had gone on long after she'd established in her own mind that there was nothing wrong with her mana capabilities.
So there was no infection, there was no food poisoning and there was no focused drain on her mana stamina.
This was something no textbook had ever covered. It was what happened when someone who knew your signature launched spells at you without knowing exactly where you were. Enemy or friend, Erienne couldn't tell but she could guess. Lyanna. Seeking her mind. But in her innocence she was damaging her mother and until it stopped, the world of magic was closed to Erienne.
The realisation rocked her. It was a powerful weapon. It made her defenceless. Fortunately, she'd be meeting Denser in a couple of days.
He would know what to do.
It was the same that night. While the fire burned and The Raven waited, Denser tried and failed to make contact with Erienne. If anything, the fog obscuring her was thicker than either of the times he'd tried before.
He dispersed the Communion and lay still, desperation beginning to steal over him, a feeling of tears behind his closed eyelids. He was tired. He had never found Communion an easy spell and his three attempts so far had left him depleted of stamina. He needed to rest and pray, to rebuild his strength for another casting, but his mind
raced with possible solutions and he could see sleep would be a long time coming. He didn't have time for this. None of them did.
'Denser?' It was Ilkar. He didn't open his eyes. He could feel the fire warm the left side of his body as he lay, its flickering glow orange on his eyelids.
'C'mon Denser. I know you've released the spell. There's tea here for you. Herbal. It should help you sleep later.'
Denser opened one eye. Above him, through the trees that part sheltered them from the strengthening wind, he could see cloud tumbling across the sky. It was darker than the night it covered. There was going to be heavy rain. Very heavy.
'I hate herbal tea,' he said. He tried to smile but nothing happened. He dragged himself to a sitting position and accepted die mug Ilkar offered, wrinkling his nose at the heady, sweet smell. Across the fire, The Unknown was building a makeshift spit and he could see Hirad laying snares through the gloom about fifty yards away.
'Food could be a while,' said The Unknown, following his gaze.
They lapsed into silence. Denser forced his tea down, wincing at its syrupy texture. He could see Ilkar smile but it was an effort. Denser looked back at the sky. There were no stars at all now, just thick darkest grey cloud. The wind blew chill through the evening air and despite the shelter of the trees, it would get cold. The Unknown clearly intended to keep the fire stacked, not considering the blaze as a risk.
'Anyone in Greythorne who wants us that badly will find us anyway,' he'd said. 'And anyone coming from Arlen is too far away to get to us tonight.'
Too far away. The words haunted Denser.
They were two days' ride from Erienne and that was a day and a half too many. He felt angry that he couldn't reach her, frustrated she wouldn't hear his warning and scared of what they might find in Arlen if he failed in his contact at dawn.
Bloody Hirad. This could prove one indiscretion too many. And despite the barbarian's confidence, Denser still boiled inside. His wife and daughter were at stake here. Hirad seemed to forget that and he clearly had not grasped how desperate Dordover was to get hold of them both.
The wind ratded the branches and blew dying leaves over the ground. The rain was in the sky now and the odd spot hit his face. Dust kicked into the air and the flames of the fire blew hard, tinged with a telltale blue-brown corona.
It was so wrong. Denser wasn't a man of the woods but he was a sensitive mage. And this was deeply disturbing. It even tainted the air they breathed, or so it seemed to him. Perhaps it would be better if the Dordovans found Lyanna first. At least then…
He quashed the thought, ashamed it had even arisen. But the rational part of him acknowledged it as a solution to the ravages Balaia was increasingly suffering. Hideous, but a solution.
Hirad walked back into the firelight and sat down. He dumped an armful of leaves and roots on the ground by him.
'There's not exactly a mass of wildlife around here. I've set for rabbits but it might not be rich pickings tonight.'
Ilkar chuckled. 'Get your excuses in early, Hirad.'
'You're funnier than usual tonight, Ilks,' returned Hirad. 'Which isn't hard.'
'Right,' said The Unknown and the moment's levity was banished. 'We have to face the possibility that Erienne will sail straight into Dordovan hands.'
T take it the Communion was no better?' Hirad looked up at Denser who shook his head, his eyes not quite holding contact. 'Maybe in the morning.'
'Maybe,' said Denser.
'But the worst case is that Erienne is captured,' said The Unknown. 'What then?'
'Well presumably the Dordovans will demand Lyanna and that means all of them going back to Ornouth with her,' said Ilkar. 'It's pretty simple.'
'Agreed,' said The Unknown. 'But there are variables.'
'Aren't there always?' grumbled Hirad.