Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

29

Days later, Diarmán and Uachi rode through the darkness. Farra, whose company on the long journey had been a fickle thing, had slipped away earlier in the evening and was nowhere to be seen. For all his affection for his cat, Uachi had little attention to spare for her that night. She could fend for herself, and his focus was elsewhere.

They were closing in on Uarria and Ealin. Uachi suspected that Diarmán wanted to stop, but he had not raised his voice even to request to slow down. He rode on, although his head drooped with weariness. Now, nearing the middle of the night, as the rose moon reached its zenith, Uachi could feel that the moment was near.

They had eased their horses to a walk. Uachi kept his eyes on the trail, seeking any indication of recent foot traffic, anything that might show him that Ealin and Uarria had recently been this way, and here and there he found it: a broken stem, a half-formed track in the dust of the road. Once, a perfectly clear footprint, smaller than the palm of hand: a child's footprint.

Seeing that mark in the earth was both painful and soothing. Uachi had the absurd urge to reach down and scoop it up between his two hands to carry it with him, proof that Uarria was still alive.

Alive. In danger. But not for much longer. They would find her soon.

Soon.

A soft sound had started in the distance a few minutes past; now, the sound began to solidify to a steady, merry babble: it was a brook. Uachi nudged his horse into a slightly faster walk. The sound of the water would cover his horse's hoofbeats. It was late, and he thought it unlikely that Ealin would walk through the night.

A source of running water would provide an ideal camp site. All of Uachi's senses were alive with awareness, and his stomach was twisted tight with nerves he rarely felt.

They rode on past a high outcropping of rock edged in trees. Uachi raised a hand to Diarmán to indicate the need for silence as he neared the outcropping, but no sooner had he done this than a shadow stepped out from behind the trees. It was a slight figure. Uachi, mounted, saw Ealin a bare few seconds before she saw him. She was carrying some branches tucked under her arm.

She seemed to be wearing a headscarf; her inky locks were nowhere to be seen, covered with something pale that reflected the moonlight. But her posture, her stature, the way she moved, and yes, the highlights of her face under the stars: all of these were familiar. Recognizing her in the darkness was a matter of instinct.

Ealin saw him. She froze. Then, she turned from him and darted off in the other direction, dropping her bundle of sticks in the road.

Uachi drove his heels into his horse's sides. The beast lunged forward, breaking into a canter. Uachi wrapped the rein in his right hand and clenched his thighs to hold himself tight to the saddle as he leaned to the left, stretching out a hand, his fingers spread. In seconds, he had caught up with her. In a desperate move he leaned farther and snatched a fistful of her tunic.

Crying out, Ealin clutched at his hands, her feet sliding along the ground as the horse continued forward. Uachi jerked back on the rein and the horse turned, fighting the bite of the bit, and skidded to a stop. Uachi struggled to keep a hold on both woman and horse; releasing the reins, he swung his leg over and dropped out of the saddle.

Uachi had avoided every thought of this moment over the past many weeks. It had not been something he wanted to consider: confronting Ealin after what she'd done. Now that it was happening, though, his first and most urgent emotion was rage.

Still holding her fast with his fist wrapped in the back of her tunic, he spun her round. He released her, only to take her shoulders. He shook her. "Why? Why!"