Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

14 Betrayal

Emeline did not wake the next day. A few hours passed, before Ketiya suggested they keep moving and create a lashwa to pull the child along on.

Brushä lit a torch and cleaned up the remains of the fire, and Avétk found some wood in the log store against the cave wall that might serve well as part of a lashwa. The most important elements were that they should not be too heavy or too thick, and that they should be flexible to an extent, but not so flexible that they would lose shape when weighted down. Linker Wood was perfect for it, but that tree did not grow in the North. The Greisboom, a common tree in these parts, was the closest match. It had a dark grey, thin bark, was light enough not to burden the bearer, and sturdy enough not to break. In fact, Greishout had a reputation for being the wood that could handle the most weight. To top it all off, Greishout was also flexible, but not half as flexible as the Willow's wood.

'Huh,' Ketiya said when Avétk dragged two lengths of Greishout over, and a few shorter lengths. 'Didn't think you'd find any up here.'

'What can I say,' Avétk wriggled his eyebrows, grinning, 'I am Avétk the great.'

She smiled in spite of herself. 'You mean the terrible.'

His smile fell flat and he glared at her, mouth open a sliver.

Without any further words between them, they went about making the lashwa. It was not a lengthy process, but took sturdy arms, firm grips, a good knowledge of how to tie proper knots, and some worldly wisdom.

'Hold it there,' Ketiya asked in that firm but familiar way that families often use when speaking to each other. 'Not that high, a bit lower.'

Avétk's hands moved down a thumb's breadth. 'Perfect.'

They looked each other in the eye, sharing a warm smile while their hands did the harder work. 'Oh, careful,' Ketiya said, 'that one isn't tied as well as the others.'

Avétk grunted, but crouched low, tugging at the lowest knot and looping the rope around one extra time for caution's sake.

He froze. Ketiya tensed. She knew that look he was giving her like she knew her palms. He looked at her pointedly, moving his eyes. They seemed to say, 'there's something in the darkness. Check the space behind me, but be subtle about it.' You could call it a sort of understanding that comes with shedding blood together. One develops an instinct, a sixth sense, if you will. Her eyes flicked about the cave, quick and-she hoped-subtle.

A slight sway of her chin meant she saw nothing. Avétk widened his eyes, his nostrils flaring a tad. It meant, 'look again. There's something, I know it.' He made a show of checking each of the other knots, as though they were still building the lashwa.

Though she squinted her eyes, she saw nothing but pure darkness and the torch on the cave floor flickering. Then it dawned on her. Where was Brushä? He had been right there a moment ago. She frowned, mouthing 'Brushä' to Avétk, hoping the distress in her eyes would be easy enough for him to pick up. Neither of them moved. Avétk stayed crouched as he was, listening, and Ketiya stood leaning forward a little and holding the top of the lashwa. Her eyes flew to the mound of furs on which Emeline lay fully clothed, gloves included. Relief bloomed in her chest. Emeline was not missing. Avétk had noticed her line of sight, and nodded a nod so slight none but the keenest observer would have noticed it. She waited three breaths, and together they slowly lowered the lashwa to the cave floor, careful not to bang it or make any sudden noise. Avétk's hand reached over his shoulder, grabbing the axe.

Ketiya took a step back without thinking, and her one footstep rang and echoed in the hollow space.

That had been stupid. She pulled her sword out of it's scabbard and it sang a scraping ring into the depths of the cave. They moved quick and silent to either side of Emeline and her mound of furs.