Free VirtualWarrior by Ann Lawrence Page B

“Lien, I
must thank you for saving my life again.”
    “No problem.” His answer was curt.
    “You are in pain?”
    “I have pains on my pains. How much farther do you think we
need to go?”
    “If Ollach is correct in his estimations, we will leave the
forest at the next sunrising.”
    “And what time is it now?” He raised his gaze to the canopy
overhead. For a brief moment, in the dark shadows of the trees and torchlight,
he looked like one of the ancient ones carved in ice rock. A wave of dizziness
came over her.
    “I do not know,” she managed. But she did know. The
sunrising would not be for a long time. The distance to the Selaw border was
long also. Tol might be dead ere they reached it. The wave of dizziness receded
as she pushed her horse to greater speed. Once Tol was gone, these warriors
would melt away from her as the ice did when brought to the fire, for they were
Tol’s men, Tolemac warriors, as Ralen was. They would feel no obligation to
serve her unless Samoht so ordered it.
    She remembered well Samoht’s arrogant face as he had bade
her to his bed on his last visit to the fortress. Though she had never
mentioned the incident, Tol had known. He had sensed the truth and been angered
enough to draw his men about her whenever Samoht visited.
    A shout jerked her attention to the lead warrior. A party
approached them. She felt suddenly cold. They were Tolemac warriors. Had they
news of Tol?
    When the party drew near, she saw that unlike her own men,
these warriors were well prepared for the forest trek. There were archers with
bows ready, and the group was twice as large as hers. At the head of the
phalanx rode a man she would know anywhere, anytime.
    ‘Twas Ralen. Each time she saw him, she thought of how Tol
must have looked in his youth—tall, imposing, full of life and vigor. Ralen had
the same shade of hair as her son. It reminded her of honey streaked with
ribbons of gold. And like her son, Ralen had Tol’s eyes too. They were so pale
a blue, they looked almost silver, but Ralen’s were often narrowed with
displeasure. Ralen was not a joyful man.
    Ollach helped her dismount, and she went down on one knee to
the warrior. “Ralen. I bid you peace.”
    “Mistress Ardra. Might I be so bold as to ask why you are in
this bedeviled forest?”
    “I was seeking you.”
    Ralen dismounted and gestured for his men to circle their
party. “There has been an influx of rebels in these woods. It is not safe for a
woman—”
    “The goddess would disagree with you.”
    Ralen nodded. “Aye, but you are not she. Is my brother mad,
that he sends his mate to risk her life?”
    “Nay; he is near death.”
    Ralen looked down. He whispered something she assumed was a
prayer for his brother’s soul. When he looked up, his expression was grim. “So,
now we know ‘tis not the birth of his heir that brings Samoht to the border.”
    “Aye. May I speak with you in private?”
    Ralen nodded and took her arm. He moved with her to the edge
of the party, but not so far as to leave them unguarded. His grip was not
gentle. It was the hold of a man who wished to demonstrate that he was in
control and she but a nuisance.
    “What is it you wish to—” He abruptly turned toward Lien.
“By the moons, who is that?”
    “A pilgrim who saved my life.”
    “He is not a pilgrim. Not garbed in such a manner. I have
never seen hair so dark.” Ralen strode past her as if she were invisible.
    She wanted to scream in frustration. “Ralen. He can wait.”
    Ralen paused. He turned back and sketched a quick bow. “Aye,
mistress, forgive me.”
    “‘Tis said you seek the Goddess of Darkness.”
    “I have just come from her domain. Samoht suspected her of a
serious theft.”
    “Aye, the Vial of Seduction.”
    “You are well informed.” Ralen shrugged his shoulders. “It
was a useless effort. If the woman has the vial, it is hidden so that mortal
man cannot find it.”
    “You spoke to her?” Ardra watched him carefully.