On the ride back to Madrezza, Elena was quiet. They rode in single file through the forest on a narrow path. Two guards took the lead, followed by Elena and Liran. Another two guards followed in the rear. Liran too, said little.
Their visit with Ergin left them with much to think about. Elena had never met anyone quite like this man. Ergamin Lotreah had a way of turning your thinking inside out.
What did she want? Elena could list a few things, beginning with finding her mother. She needed an explanation of why she had been abandoned and about the remarkable abilities she seemed to have inherited. She also wanted a place where she fit in; where she belonged. Castillon felt like it might be that place.
And love? Well, Elena had made a grand mess of that before. Would she ever get it right? She still wanted companionship. Ergin had seen that right away. The longing hadn't disappeared, but it had gone dormant while she lived in Kalad. Now that she was back among her own people, she wondered if she might meet someone new.
At some point, the issue of her age would start to be a challenge. She might not find a young man of twenty or thirty years particularly interesting when she was seventy or eighty, and a seventy or eighty year old man would be just too old. What would she do if she lived even longer than that? The Hilliri lived much longer, but Trillas and a Hilliri never intermarried, save for that one time, and she knew how badly that had gone. Lorenzo and Liriel had stopped one war with their union, but another conflict had started because of it. No wonder Liran received such abusive treatment when he visited Kalad. He was a reminder of the strife his parents had caused.
The forest was more mixed in these parts than by the water's edge where only tall scraggly pines grew. The undergrowth was heavier. The path, at times, grew close and narrow. Elena was concerned that overgrown branches might catch in her tack or scratch her horse's sides. The weather was grey and the sky so overcast that it created deep shadows in the forest around them. The air was filled with damp, signalling a shower was overdue.
The path was twisted; deep curves making blind turns. They had to keep alert, guiding their mounts carefully through the narrow twisted places so as not to veer too far to the side of the trail where the brush was thick and often prickly. After several hours, they began to look for a place to break. Both the horses and their riders would need to be fed and watered soon.
A fox ran across her path, nearly getting trampled under her horse. He spooked for a moment, rearing and dancing. Elena was used to his temper. She tried to talk him down, patting his lathered neck and humming to him. He tossed his head, stomping back and forth, but he refused to move forward. The gap between her and forward guards was growing wider.
Behind, she heard the Prince talking his own mount down too. Such tension had a way of travelling from one horse to another.
A breeze and a whistling sound passed by her ear. Elena's focus narrowed as she processed the experience. It was an arrow. Her eyes darted from tree to bush, trying to locate its source. It came from further up the path. She glanced up ahead, searching, trying to spot the archer, just in time to watch on of the forward guards and his horse topple from a hail of arrows. The Prince needed protection. She turned to look behind her.
"My Lord, turn back!"
She was relieved when his horse whirled around and headed back the way they had come. She urged her own horse about and kicked him hard. It would only take a moment to return to the last bend in their route where a thicket of trees would block them from view. It would give her time to figure out how to deal with their attackers.
On the other side of the curve, flying arrows no longer a threat, Elena spotted a large tree with a wide trunk. At its base there was a cluster of thick branches of a bush. From here they could hide and surprise their attackers as they came back to capture their prey. Hopefully the guards posted behind them would also come to their aid.
Elena spotted an overhanging branch as thick as the tree trunk. She had an idea. She stilled her horse, stood up on her saddle, balancing for a moment, then reached up with her arms to grasp it. Then she swung her leg over. Her horse, now riderless, wandered off into the thicket nibbling on grasses while she settled herself, straddling the branch, with an arrow nocked and ready. The view was excellent from here. The Prince had taken the cue as well, dismounting and sending his horse off. He was hiding himself behind a short thick screen of bushes, his own bow at the ready.
She heard someone going down with a cry, likely one of the rear guards. She saw the last guard ride into view, looking about in confusion, trying to determine which direction to face as more arrows continued to whisk by. One caught its mark and pierced the man through the back, which meant assailants were in the rear as well. Elena realized that she and the Prince might be the only ones in their party left alive.
She calmed her heart and breathing; otherwise it would be difficult to shoot. Within moments, the sound of braking branches informed her that targets were coming into range. Several riders appeared in her view through the tree branches. Arrows whisked by her, but not too close. She drew and released her arrow. She nocked, aimed, and released several more in quick succession. Several riders fell from their horses. She lost count as they fell, some to her arrows, some to the Prince's. She waited a moment, and two more came into her field of vision. She released her arrow and they both fell. The Prince had hit one and she the other. She waited a little longer, in case there were more, but no one else came.
Elena climbed down from her branch. The air was still, save for the wickering of several horses. She looked around. Nothing was moving or making sound. The Prince was nowhere to be seen.
She fought the rise of panic as she drew up to the thick bushes where he had sheltered and stepped around the screen of their dark leaves.
He wasn't there.
She looked around her, left, right and forward. How could he just disappear?
She must stay focused. She kept her bow ready, stepping forward into the thick brush of the forest. Her ears rang with the sound of her pulse. She remembered the discipline of the forms and began the short meditation that brought breathing under control. As her head cleared, she caught the sound of another horse coming up to the bend. She turned back toward the path, inching forward to find the best screen from which to shoot.
The sound of heavy hooves beat time on the damp earth, a bridle jingled and saddle leather squeaked, alerting her to another rider's approach. Could it be the rear guard? She hadn't seen him fall.
The rider came into view in the gap through the trees. It was not a Castillonian guard in dark blue as she'd hoped, but a pale Hilliri man in a sombre steel grey Paracha uniform, like the one Elena wore. She hesitated for a moment. What was a Paracha soldier doing in Castillon, and why was he shooting at them? She would find out, but for now if they shot at her, they were the enemy, so she aimed and let the arrow fly. A quick thump and the sound of a body hitting the ground let her know she had succeeded.
There was no time to be pleased with her handiwork. She checked to be sure all the attackers were dead, poking their bodies with her sword. She must find the Prince and pray that he was unharmed. She plunged into the deep woods to find him. She found her horse first, pawing the ground and stamping his hoofs in agitation. She noticed the Prince's horse standing a little way off, and headed in that direction.
The trees were large and well spaced but the underbrush made movement difficult. Elena hacked her way over to the Prince's mount. It was an ill use for a sword of such pedigree, but it was all she had at hand. The horse was nuzzling something in the grass.
The Prince was lying on the ground, unmoving. Elena dropped down to her knees at his side. A dark red stain spread across his linen shirt. The thick dark shaft of an arrow had found its way into his side during the fight. His breath wheezed, sounding wet and sticky.
It might not be fatal, but Elena had seen enough battlefield injuries to know this wasn't good. She removed her cloak and covered him, to guard against shock, leaving only the injury exposed.
Her fingers trembled as she checked his breathing. It was shallow and wheezy, but steady. She checked his pulse at his neck and found it erratic but strong enough. Next was to deal with the bleeding. She looked around for a cloth, trying to think what she had with her. Her shirt would do. She removed her jacket and tore off a sleeve. She bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. Blood seeped into the fabric and her hands became sticky.
Should she remove the arrow or not? It was sometimes better not to, but the Prince would know for sure. He was a Marulan healer.
She needed to rouse him to enlist his help. She shook him gently by the shoulders.
"My Lord, My Lord, please, will you wake?"
She brushed his hair back from his face. He looked even more pale than usual. She feared he would die if she couldn't wake him. She slapped him on the cheek and his eyes fluttered.
She slapped him again, a little harder than before. He gasped and his eyes opened wide. He clutched her arm as the pain registered.
"I'm sorry, My Lord, but you're hurt and I need you to tell me what to do."
He coughed a little. Blood sprayed onto his lips. He cried out, though the sound was not so loud. "What... happened?"
"We were attacked. You've been shot. Tell me, please, what I can do?"
The Prince squeezed his eyes closed, but this time she could see that he was concentrating. It took a few minutes, but finally he opened them again.
"You can't help me, Captain." He coughed again and more blood speckled his white skin. "My lung is pierced." He squeezed his eyes closed against the pain. "You can't move me, and there is no healer nearby."
"But My Lord, you're a healer. Can't you heal yourself?"
His lips turned up a little, as if to smile.
"I wish it were so, but I don't have enough maru. The wound drains me already."
Elena had given her oath to protect this man. She would not allow him to die. It seemed a cruel fate that a healer should die for lack of healing.
"My Lord, you have said that I have this power too... maru. Can you show me what to do, or... can I lend you some of it?"
"No!" His arm rose to shield himself. He coughed again. His breath rattled.
"You must take what you need, My Lord, I can't do it myself."
The Prince shook his head. "No, I won't."
The Prince turned his head away. He said won't, not can't. Perhaps he was refusing in order to protect her. She had to convince him to save his own life.
"My Lord, I swore an oath. It's my duty to do whatever possible to preserve you. You must take what you need, or I will have failed."
The Prince grimaced and closed his eyes. He turned his head away.
Elena shook him again. He was being stubborn when he could ill afford it.
"I insist. It's my power to give. Tell me how."
Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks. She would fail if he refused.
"I can't. I can't concentrate. It hurts too much."
Elena refused to accept such a lame excuse, not when it was a matter of life.
"You are Katar-amir. Surely Master Yoran would scoff at such excuses. Tell me what to do, now." Later, he might reprimand her for her insolence, but Elena would accept that, if he lived.
The Prince sighed, groaned little, then closed his eyes.
"Take off my glove," he said.
Elena wriggled the glove loose.
"Give me your hand," he said. He held out his left, so she could keep her right hand pressing on the wound. She grasped it. For a second the world seemed to turn about on itself, but the dizzy feeling subsided.
"You will feel weak as I take what you've offered. But first you must swear that you will never tell a soul what we have done."
Elena hesitated. What great taboo was she was assisting in? She would make him explain later, but now she must agree so that he would live.
"I swear it."
The Prince seemed to ease a little after this.
"Take your other hand and ease the arrow out."
Elena nodded. She would have to let go of the cloth she was still using to apply pressure.
"Gently," he said.
She pulled, trying to apply her strength evenly. The arrow eased out most of the way, then refused to budge. Elena shifted position so she had better purchase, and pulled harder. The arrow released. She dropped it and grabbed the cloth to continue applying pressure. The cloth was saturated now.
She felt her strength drain away, until she could hardly breathe. He squeezed her hand. He crushed her bones together until she couldn't help herself. She cried out.
He released her hand as the darkness folded in all around them.
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Rebecca