Remnant of Power

Chapter Forty-two

Yavenna

What am I doing here? wondered Yavenna. On my own, miles from anywhere, with some bad-tempered, arrogant fool accusing me of abandoning his friend to his death, and strangers telling me I'm not even human. She sat down on the grass in front of a silver birch tree and reached up to her throat to clutch her pendant, then remembered it was in her pack where the others were. She cursed under her breath. There was no way she was going back to them just yet. Let them wonder where she'd gone. A blackbird flew down in front of her and she watched it hop about. After a few minutes, her breathing grew calmer.

Look on the bright side, Yavenna, she chided herself, at least you haven't had to marry the evil old murderer. Anything's better than that, even being leagues and leagues away from a home you hardly dare go back to, in the company of a strange group of people you don't know, with the possibility of being attacked by a wild mage. Noticing an apple tree nearby, she helped herself to two fruits, and ate them savagely. The blackbird flew away and she sighed, knowing that she would have to go back. As she got up, she saw a figure winding its way through the trees. It was Channa.

The Ithrim woman came straight to Yavenna, sat down next to her, and to Yavenna's surprise, clasped her in a hug.

"Please forgive Gared, if you can, Princess. He's very worried about Mal and Yoldas." Yavenna closed her eyes and relaxed into the embrace. It seemed so long since anyone had cared enough to hold her. She sighed. Channa let go of her, then clasped Yavenna's hand.

"You look like you could do with a friend," she smiled. "I would like to be one to you, if you want. Will you come back with me and select some armor?"

Yavenna looked up at Channa. "Yes, "she nodded. "And yes, I'd like you to be my friend." Right now, she thought, that's probably the thing I'd like most in all the world.

***

The afternoon passed quickly. Channa took her to watch some Dryads making Elixir, and a Dryad woman gave her clean clothes and showed her a pool she could bathe in. Then she, Channa, the other Ithrim and Gared picked out ancient armor and weapons from the Dryads' massive store. They seemed unaffected by age. Afterwards she sat on her own in the deep shade of a large lime tree as she mended the pendant. She couldn't help thinking about what had happened earlier, and her cheeks burned as she wondered if the others thought she was a coward as well.

The following day she woke up early to a dull sky and a quiet, still forest. As she opened her eyes she was horrified to see a thick gray coat only inches away from her face. One of the wolves! It must have lain down to sleep next to her. She certainly wouldn't have chosen to sleep next to the huge creature! She pushed herself backwards, trying to get away from the beast as quickly as possible without waking it. But it must've heard her move, for it rolled over and stared at her, fangs protruding from its great mouth. She stepped over the still-sleeping Channa and reached to grab the Dryad sword she'd laid on her pack a few hours before.

"Princess Yavenna, you have nothing to fear from me or my brothers," growled Ragnar. "If we had any reason to, any one of us could have eaten you alive by now. Speaking of food, I'll be glad to leave this place. I've only eaten a few bread rolls since we arrived here and my belly is aching." The creature shook itself and stood up. "Watch me, Princess Yavenna," it commanded. She looked up at it, frowning, then rubbed her eyes.

It looked like it was shrinking. What was happening? Before her eyes, it was changing into a dog.

"You see? Are you convinced now?"

Yavenna touched his coat, and nodded briefly. It felt softer, how strange, and he didn't look fierce or dangerous anymore. In fact, she almost felt like she wanted to sit down next to him and give him a hug. He changed back into his wolf shape and walked off to the hall.

Still not entirely persuaded the wolves were harmless, Yavenna put the sword back on the ground by her pack and reached inside to clasp her pendant before following him.

Excitement spread out from her empty stomach as she thought of the long run ahead of her, and that at the end of it she would see Mal again. She picked her pack up and set off to look for food, but as she ducked under the branches of a beech a strange smell wafted past her face. Not sweet, or lemony, like the trees and flowers in this beautiful land, but harsh and metallic. Puzzled, she leant against a trunk and sniffed the air, wondering what in the world it reminded her of. Then one single pink petal of a blossom floated down from a cherry tree and landed on the top of her hand. Suddenly the smell grew stronger, and Yavenna recognised it. She'd smelt it before when she saw the gibbets out of the window. It was the smell of blood.