Free Lord of the Clans by Christie Golden Page B

carrying rain barrels clattered through, the drivers having a hard time controlling their frightened mounts. No one noticed one lone figure slipping out into the darkness.
    Once clear of the fortress, Thrall ran. He headed straight for the surrounding forested hills, leaving the road as soon as possible. His senses seemed sharper than they had ever been. Unfamiliar scents filled his flaring nostrils, and it felt as if he could sense every rock, every blade of grass beneath his running feet.
    There was a rock formation that Taretha had told him about. She said it looked a bit like a dragon standing guard over the forest. It was very dark, but Thrall’s excellent night vision could make out a jut that, if one used one’s imagination, could indeed appear to be the long neck of a reptilian creature. There was a cave here, Taretha said. He would be safe.
    For the briefest moment, he wondered if Taretha might not be setting a trap for him. At once he dismissed the idea, both angry and ashamed that it had even occurred to him. Taretha had been nothing but kind to him via her supportive letters. Why would shebetray him? And more to the point, why go to such great lengths when simply showing his letters to Blackmoore would accomplish the same thing?
    There it was, a dark oval against the gray face of the stone. Thrall was not even breathing heavily as he altered his course and trotted for the refuge.
    He could see her inside, leaning against the cave wall, waiting for him. For a moment he paused, knowing that his vision was superior to hers. Even though she was within and he without, she could not see him.
    Thrall had only human values by which to measure beauty, and he could tell that, by those standards, Taretha Foxton was lovely. Long pale hair — it was too dark for him to see the exact color, but he had glimpsed her momentarily in the stands at the matches from time to time — fell in a long braid down her back. She was clad only in nightclothes, a cloak wrapped close about her slender frame, and beside her was a large sack.
    He paused for a moment, and then strode boldly up to her. “Taretha,” he said, his voice deep and gruff.
    She gasped and looked up at him. He thought her afraid, but then she laughed. “You startled me! I did not know you moved so quietly!” The laughter faded, settled into a smile. She strode forward and reached out both hands to him.
    Slowly, Thrall folded them in his own. The small white hands disappeared in his green ones, nearly three times as large. Taretha barely reached his elbow, yet there was no fear on her face, only pleasure.
    “I could kill you where you stand,” he said, wondering what perverse emotion was making him say those words. “No witnesses that way.”
    Her smile only grew. “Of course you could,” she acknowledged, her voice warm and melodious. “But you won’t.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because I know you .” He opened his hands and released her. “Did you have any trouble?”
    “None,” he said. “The plan worked well. There was so much chaos that I think an entire village of orcs could have escaped. I noticed that you released the animals before setting fire to the barn.”
    She grinned again. Her nose turned up slightly, making her look younger than her — what, twenty? Twenty-five? — years.
    “Of course. They’re just innocent creatures. I’d never want to see them harmed. Now, we had best hurry.” She looked down at Durnholde, at the smoke and flames still billowing up into the starry sky. “They seem to be getting control of it. You’ll be missed soon.” An emotion Thrall didn’t understand shadowed her face for a moment. “As will I.” She took the sack and brought it out into the open. “Sit, sit. I want to show you something.”
    Obediently, he sat down. Tari rummaged through the sack and withdrew a scroll. Unrolling it, she held it down on one side and gestured that he do the same.
    “It’s a map,” said Thrall.
    “Yes, the most