Lord's Fall (12 page)

Only one text message was from Dragos. It had been sent a few minutes after she had woken up and turned off her phone.

She clicked the message open and read it.

Talk tonight. Be safe.

Her vision blurred. The message was terse and to the point, as were all of Dragos’s messages, but was it enough?

She had to admit, she had boxed him into a corner in her mind where almost nothing he could have said would have been right, and silence would have been the worst thing of all.

But those four words said a lot. They said he had backed down and accepted her decision, even though he had to have still been angry when he sent the message. They weren’t enough, but they set a platform and were a promise of more.

Then she was able to take a deep breath for the first time since she had awakened. She texted him back.

Yes.

Almost instantly her phone pinged again.

Six days.

He had been waiting all that time for her reply. The starch left her spine, and she rubbed her face. Probably it was good to make him wait now and then, but hell’s bells, that was a hard road to take.
You’re impossible, impossible
, she mouthed at the phone as she gripped it in both hands and shook it.
You make me crazy.

She started and deleted a couple of replies, all too aware that her six guards, as many Elves, the High Lord’s consort and all their horses were waiting on her.

Her phone pinged again.

Pia.

Of course,
she sent back.

Ping. Dammit! She opened that message too.

Until tonight.

Her fingers moved rapidly over the small keyboard.

Until tonight. Cell phones won’t work in the Wood. I must shut down now.

She hit send and, gritting her teeth, forced herself to turn off the phone. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to join Eva, who said nothing but walked with her back to the waiting group.

Afterward she never remembered what she said. She knew that she smiled, exchanged pleasantries and admired the tall, sweet-natured chestnut horse that was to be hers for the trip. When everybody mounted, she did too, while Hugh held on to her horse’s bridle for her.

Beluviel rode a gorgeous, gleaming black mare, with a proud arched neck and startling blue eyes. After a quick glance to make sure everyone was ready, the High Lord’s consort rode first toward the Wood, and the rest of the group fell into place behind her.

As Pia nudged her mount, the two female Wyr, Eva and Andrea, came up on either side of her. Hugh and James took point, and Miguel and Johnny fell in behind, surrounding Pia completely. She gritted her teeth, feeling trapped and boxed in, but she held her peace for the moment. None of them knew what to expect when they passed underneath those trees for the first time.

Behind her, Miguel muttered, “There better not be any Tom Bombadil skipping and singing this early in the morning, or any hobbit-eating trees. That’s all I got to say.”

A light Elven voice said, “Tom Bombadil is a completely fictional character, of course, but we make no promises about any flesh-eating trees.”

Pia glanced over her shoulder, as did Andrea and Eva. An Elven girl had ridden up beside Miguel, a longbow and quiver strapped to her back. The girl had an immaculate seat on her horse, her slender body held straight and relaxed. Her short hair, skin and twinkling eyes were a lustrous dark brown, the pointed tips of her ears showing pixie-like through the fluffy strands. She had dyed the end of her hair blue.

Miguel appeared frozen in his saddle.

“Class it up, jackass,” said Captain Psycho irritably.

The Elven girl laughed, a bright, sharp sound that rang out like knife play. Then she chucked her horse into a gallop that sent her to the front of the party where she fell into step beside Beluviel.

Miguel looked after the young Elf hungrily. “Somebody please tell me that chick ain’t underage.”

Pia closed her eyes briefly. If she could only start over from eight o’clock yesterday morning. No, make that two days ago. Then she could have packed differently too.

Up ahead, Beluviel rode toward a wide path that led to a break in the trees. Pia could have sworn that neither the path nor the break in the trees had been there a moment ago. The Wyr fell silent at the same time the Elves did, and by some trick of acoustics the sound of the hoofbeats seemed muffled as the group entered the Wood in twos and threes.

Intensely conflicting emotions ricocheted through her when it came her turn to pass the border, a deep elation along with a sense of panic. She was both an urban-raised girl and a forest animal, and the dense foliage called to her deepest instincts. She wanted to back out, turn on her cell phone and call Dragos, or worse, race to one of the SUVs and break the speed limit all the way back to New York. She also wanted to throw herself out of the saddle, change into her Wyr form and plunge crazily into the deepest, most Powerful heart of the Wood.

Of course she did none of those things. Instead an ancient, wild presence enveloped her as her horse stepped underneath the green, green trees.

They traveled at an easy pace through the morning.Once they had all entered the Wood, Beluviel fell back through the group to travel with Pia and talk of a variety of things. In contrast to their open heart-to-heart from the previous afternoon, they both kept the conversation light and suitable for multiple listeners.

The Elven girl with the blue-tipped hair traveled back with Beluviel to tease Miguel unmercifully. Miguel did not appear to mind in the slightest. In fact, by the end of the morning his dark, observant gaze had glazed over slightly, and he was looking both smitten and disturbed, much to the amusement of the other Wyr and the Elves.

The party stopped for lunch in a beautiful spot where a huge tree had fallen and the wood had been carved into a massive table. The table had been surrounded by stone benches that had also been carved, their thick legs covered with moss and lichens. Diffuse light filtered through the green leaves overhead. Pia could hear the faint trickle of running water nearby. The scene felt peaceful and very old.

Pia’s double, Andrea, came up to take the reins of Pia’s horse as she eased out of the saddle, her thigh muscles quivering from the unaccustomed strain of riding all morning. Come evening she was going to be in a world of hurt.

Clearly Beluviel had no such trouble, as she sprang lightly from the back of her mare. When the Elven woman joined her, Pia said, “This place is gorgeous. The tree must have been immense.”

Beluviel regarded the scene, her expression inscrutable. “Yes. I was very saddened when she fell.”

Pia looked from Beluviel’s youthful face to the table again. This time she also took in the hollows on the stone benches along with the wear underneath on the forest floor.

Dragos, Beluviel. Her mother. It was easy, she thought, to speak of ancient beings without really taking in just what that meant until the reality hit home at moments like this.

Someday, someone might look at her and realize the same thing. But nobody would look at her that way for a long, long time. She was just in her twenties, which was young by human standards, and she had mated with one of the oldest known creatures in the world. How could she expect to become his partner in anything? Even worse, how could she expect him to accept it? It was beyond crazy. Discouragement turned her limbs leaden.

While she tumbled into her private funk, Elves brushed off the top of the table and laid out flasks of wine and water, along with fruit, nuts and stacks of their indescribably delicious wayfarer bread. At the end farthest from Pia and Beluviel, they set out a variety of meats and cheeses.

Pia’s mouth watered at the sight of the loaves. She had eaten Elven wayfarer bread just once in her life, when she and Dragos had been kidnapped by Goblins and imprisoned in an Other land, and she had never forgotten the taste.

She glanced upward, but the sky was too obscured by thick tree branches and clouds to see the sun. It wouldn’t sound good to ask how soon she might be able to go to bed. “How long is the journey from here?”

“We’ll arrive before dark,” Beluviel said. “Sunset is around five thirty, which is something around forty-five minutes later than New York at this time of year. That is, if you’re up for the rest of the trip? There are a few quite comfortable cabins just an hour away if you would rather stop.”

“Not at all,” Pia told her. “I think we should travel the whole distance today.” After all the sooner she got there, the sooner she could talk with Calondir, accomplish what she came to do and go home.

She was not well adjusted at all. Most people would be thrilled at the rare privilege to see inside the Wood and travel into the heart of the Elven demesne. All she did was think about leaving as soon as she could.

Because she might have put too positive a spin on Dragos’s texts. The tricky thing about terseness was that it left so much open to interpretation, and he had only sent her nine words in total.

And it was probably pathetic that she had counted them.

Her stomach tried to clench up on her again. She shoved away the impulse and focused on eating. The other Wyr cycled behind her, always keeping two on duty while the others ate. No one remarked or looked askance at that, although she noted Beluviel’s attendants did not keep the same kind of vigilance.

She tried to think of ways to ask Beluviel about the Numenlaurians’ impending visit but she couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject without sounding like she was prying, mainly because she
would
be prying. In the end she said nothing, opting to wait, watch and listen. She could always ask questions later.

The group finished lunch quickly while their horses were watered, and soon they were on their way again. After traveling with her for another half an hour or so, Beluviel excused herself and moved forward to take the lead again.

An invisible hot poker settled at the base of Pia’s spine. The backache grew worse as the afternoon wore on, and her new boots rubbed blisters on her heels. The unsettled euphoria at having entered the Wood had worn off. Now its presence made her feel claustrophobic as it seemed to press on her from all sides. She could sense the crossover passage somewhere ahead as the group grew closer to it.

Eva never left her, although the other five Wyr took turns riding on her other side. Johnny and Andrea carried crossbows, and all the Wyr had swords strapped to their backs. Eva’s powerful body moved in lithe rhythm with her roan mare, her lean dark fingers handling the reins with confident ease as her black, alert gaze never stopped roaming over the scene.

Pia sank into a miserable haze, only jerking straighter as Eva said telepathically,
You looking like something a cat coughed up again, princess. Need a break?

No,
she said. She needed for the day to be over, and a break would only prolong her misery.

Eva turned to look her in the eyes.
Are you sure, Pia?

She took a deep breath, and the muscles in her sore back throbbed while the peanut slept oblivious to it all, his energy strong and steady.
Thank you, I’m sure.

You know, I don’t remember hearing Beluviel make any promises,
Eva told her
. In fact, I thought she sounded a little cagey.

What nonsense are you talking about now?
She sighed and shifted in her saddle, but there wasn’t any position she could get into that would alleviate her discomfort.

The consort said “might” and “possibly” yesterday,
Eva said.
She hung with Calondir all these years, seems she could be more definite about whether or not the man would like it if you showed up on his doorstep. It’s possible he might not be as pleased as he could be. If the Numenlaurians arrive while you try to get his attention, you might be knocking yourself out like this for nothing.

She scowled. She hadn’t considered any of that. It had sounded to her like Beluviel was just being polite. Great. She grumbled,
Just once I’d like you to say something I really want to hear. Besides, that’s all the more reason to push hard to get there. I need to try to talk with Calondir while I’ve got the chance.

Point,
Eva admitted.

They rode for a while in silence. Just ahead, Miguel and the young Elven girl were sniping at each other again. Pia watched them as she thought. She asked Eva,
Do you know anything about the prehuman war among the Elves?

You mean a civil war?
Eva said, lifting her eyebrows.

Yes.

The captain shook her head.
Before my time, princess.

Pia snorted, and a grin played at the corners of Eva’s mouth.
Apparently there was one, and it was big and nasty. Dragos said it changed the landscape of the Earth, caused the Elves to scatter and eventually gave birth to the Light and the Dark Fae.

Shew, what a lot of drama,
said Eva. The captain paused.
If Numenlaur is the “old country,” then that’s where the war began?

Sounds likely,
Pia replied.

Eva remarked,
Makes me curious why they coming to visit Calondir and Beluviel.

Pia said,
Me too. Keep your eyes and ears sharp in case you get the chance to overhear something, will you?

You bet. I’ll pass the word to the others to do the same.

Silence fell again between them, and that was the last they spoke for a while. Wowzer, thought Pia, after her and Eva’s rocky beginning, it seemed almost peaceful.

The light was beginning to wane when one of the Elves broke away from the group and ran ahead. Pia hoped that meant the Elf was taking word of their arrival to Calondir, and their destination was close at hand. She had long since stopped trying to talk with anyone and rode in a cloud of increasing tiredness.

She must have fallen into a doze, because the next thing she knew a shout of greeting sounded up ahead. She jerked into alertness.