Encouraged to find the swelling down and the wound almost completely closed, Lydryth left the pot to simmer and took her pack around the curve of the hillside, following the stream until she found a shallow pool. There she stripped and washed; her breath caught in her throat at the chill of the water, but being clean again refreshed her. Her own bloodstreaked shirt and breeches she soaked to remove the stains, then scrubbed with sand and stretched over a bush in the sunlight. Pulling on clean clothing, Lydryth went back to Alon.
The broth was ready. Cooling it with a little water, she managed to rouse Alon enough to get him to swallow it. She drank a cup of the hearty-though tasteless-brew herself, wishing she had thought to season it with thyme or sage.
Then, knowing that she could do nothing more to aid Alon, and by now so weary that the hillside blurred around her, reminding her ofYachne’s spell-land, Lydryth lifted a comer of the cloak and crawled under it, fitting herself against Alon’s warmth, careful not to jar his injured arm. Just for a few minutes, she thought. I’ll just doze for . . .
Monso’s moist, hot breath in her face woke her hours later. The Keplian was nosing her hair, snuffling eagerly at the sack of grain she was using for a pillow. Rubbing her eyes and yawning until she thought her jaw would split in two, the songsmith sat up, seeing that the sun lay far to the west.
After feeding the stallion, Lydryth put a hand on Alon’s forehead to check for fever. His skin was slightly overwarm, but his color was good. The red mud, she noted, was nearly dried out. Dahaun had warned her to let it dry and harden until it cracked, before stripping it away. The songsmith wound a length of bandage around her patient’s wrist to hold it in place.
After heating the broth again, she prepared to feed the Adept as before, but this time, when she touched him, Alon’s grey eyes opened. Though clouded by bewilderment, he seemed lucid enough. “How do you feel?” she asked him. “We are … back?” he whispered hoarsely.
She nodded. “The bridge-spell worked.”
“Yachne?”
“There has been no sign of her or of any further spells,” she told him. “Steel Talon and Monso would have given warning, I believe. After tending you, I was so weary that I could not stay awake.”
He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but she forestalled him with a hand on his chest. “Softly, Alon. You are still weak. You lost a great deal of blood.”
The Adept subsided for the moment, but the expression on his face told Lydryth that he would not accept her edict for long. “We cannot linger here,” he said, his voice strengthening a bit. “We must take up the search again.”
“It will do us little good to find Yachne if you are too weak to face her,” she countered. “Even if I possess a tiny measure of the Power myself, I am no match for a sorceress with her ability.”
His mouth tightened grimly. “I am by no means sure that / can face her with any chance of winning,” he admitted. “That spell she wove to trap us … I could not equal that.”
“But her Power is stolen,” the songsmith pointed out. “Mayhap her knowledge is lacking, even if her ability is not. Here…,” she urged, dipping into the pot over the fire, “take some more soup. It will strengthen you.” Carefully she helped him sit up, then put the cup into his hands. The thick liquid sloshed; his hands were trembling. Silently the songsmith helped him steady the container. He sipped, cautiously at first, then with more assurance, j
It took all ofAlon’s strength to drink the soup and nibble halfheartedly at a few bits of dried fruit. He was plainly dismayed at his own weakness. “How is Monso?” he asked.
“The wound is closed. He seems nearly well.”
“He has always healed quickly,” the Adept said. His voice took on a bitter note. “Would that I could do likewise!”
“You must give yourself time to recover,” Lydryth said. “I was exhausted from the spell you worked, and I had only to back you.” She shook her head. “Nor did I lose the amount of blood you did. You need rest, and food.”
“What I need,” he said curtly, “is to find Yachne, so that I may repay her for the trials she has caused us! But by now she could be anywhere!”
Steel Talon squawked suddenly, sharply, plainly demanding attention. Alon turned to regard the bird intently, as the two obviously shared some wordless communication. As he “listened,” the Adept’s taut shoulders abruptly relaxed. “What is it?” Lydryth demanded.
“If I understand Steel Talon aright, he is telling me that the one we followed through the Gate is perhaps a half-day’s journey ahead of us, no more-and that she is not hurrying.” His mouth twisted sardonically. “Which should not surprise me. After working the spell that created that massive illusionland, it is no wonder the witch is wearied!” He gazed thoughtfully up at the falcon. “There is something more… something clouded by anger that I cannot understand clearly. Steel Talon feels great anger toward Yachne.”
“Because she is the cause of your troubles here in Arvon?” Lydryth guessed aloud.
“Steel Talon does not feel that strongly for me,” Alon said. “It was Jon that he loved. Falconers and their birds are bound together by ties of great loyalty and affection.”
“But you have companied together for a long time,” she countered. “Steel Talon has affection for you, I can tell. When I told him that you needed fresh meat to regain your strength, he returned with some as swiftly as he could.”
“Perhaps . . .,” he said, his voice ending with a sigh.
“You are wearied,” she told him. “Lie back and rest.”
He turned to regard the sun, hovering only a handspan over the distant hills. Crimson and yellow splashed the western clouds. “I can rest atop Monso. He can bear my weight, I believe, if we do no more than walk.”
Lydryth opened her mouth to protest, but halted as he shook his head. “I know what you are about to say, but I will not be able to rest while we are so close to Yachne’s bespelled ground. What if somehow we became entrapped there again?”
Lydryth glanced back uneasily at that faintly shimmering, raw-cut gorge. “Could that happen?”
“I know not. The spell she used was beyond my ability … 208 209 I cannot judge. I only know that I will rest better on Monso’s back, going away from this place, than I ever could so near to it.”
The songsmith sighed and gave in. Truth to tell, now that Alon had brought up the possibility that the spell-land might ensnare them again, she would not be able to relax near it, either. “Very well,” she said. “I will lead Monso, and we will walk-but only for an hour or so, understand?”
He nodded. “I can sleep on horseback. I have done it before.”
Leaning on Lydryth for support, he managed to walk the short distance to the streamside, where he laved his hands and face with the chill water, afterward drinking deeply. Then, while Lydryth saddled the Keplian and repacked their supplies, Alon swallowed another measure of the strengthening tisane.
When they were ready to start, Lydryth led the Keplian to a position downhill from the Adept. With her aid, he was able to place foot to stirrup, then clamber into the saddle, grunting with the effort. When he settled into place, she saw that his teeth were fastened in his lower lip, and sweat beaded his forehead.
Clumsily, favoring his injured arm, he drew his cloak around him, and they started off, the setting sun at their backs.
Fortunately, their path lay across gently rolling meadows, and Lydryth could see well enough to continue until full dark, thus putting several hillsides between them and Yachne’s trap. When she reached the crest of the third such hillside, she halted, breathing a bit heavily, but feeling her spirits lift to be moving once again in the direction of their goal. She refused to let herself contemplate what might lie at the end of thensearch.
Looking up at Alon in the growing darkness, she saw that his eyes were closed, and he was slumped in the saddle, dozing. If only I could go on a tittle farther before halting, she thought, glancing back at the faint line of reddish-orange that still marked the western sky. Monso, like all horses, has good night vision and will not need much guidance. If only I had the Power to see in the dark as Alon can!
An instant later that idly framed thought brought her up short. But I do have the Power! Perhaps I can use it. even as he does!