Watersmeet (22 page)

“Rueshlan’s daughter,” Alden said, bowing low. “You are wondering what has become of your companion.”

“I was sure Haret would be here tonight,” Abisina said. “Ruesh—my father said he was with you.”

“He was.” Alden nodded. “And he struggled mightily. . . . In the end, there was nothing left to do but take him to the Mines.”

“I don’t understand—the Mines?” At Alden’s continued nodding, Abisina cried, “But they’re days away! Why would he go now, during Midsummer?” She
knew
there had been something wrong!

Rueshlan and Alden exchanged glances.

Abisina tried to take the edge out of her voice. They were holding something back, afraid she would be too upset. “I need to know,” she said, “I wouldn’t have made it here without Haret.”

After a look from Rueshlan, Alden said, “It’s the Obriumlust. He needed to see for himself. The Mines are closed off from us, the same as on the southern side, but he wouldn’t believe it.” Alden rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “All dwarves feel the Obriumlust, but some worse than others. Last night Haret demanded again and again to see my collection of Obrium trinkets. We had some hope that he would withstand it. At times he was quite lucid, even checking on you. But as the night wore on, it took firmer hold. He accused us of hiding the precious metal from him, hoarding it for ourselves.”

“But he fought it,” she protested. “He gave this back to me.” She clutched the necklace. “It was hard, but he knew I needed this.”

“It can seize at any time, I’m afraid. It must have come from seeing so much Obrium at once—items our ancestors wore when they fled. Many of us have some bit of the metal. I wear this,” Alden added, showing Abisina a plain Obrium band on his finger, “and my brother, Waite, has a kilt clasp. Haret noticed these immediately, and that’s when I saw it growing on him—he was ready to go off and search right then. We tried to talk him out of it. Thought we had, but then it came back stronger than ever. That’s when a few of my cousins agreed to go with him. Two centaurs offered to take them. They left before dawn.”

“Centaurs?” Abisina stepped back. “You let centaurs take him? They’ll kill him!”

“They’re helping him, Abisina,” Rueshlan tried to explain, but she would not listen.

“You cannot trust them!” she cried.

“Not trust them?” Alden said. “Why, Rueshlan—”

“—would never have sent Haret and his cousins with them if I wasn’t absolutely convinced that he would be safe,” Rueshlan finished.

He led Abisina to a chair in the next sitting room, out of the crowd. “But why did you let him go?” she asked.

“It’s the only way, child,” Rueshlan said sadly. “If they hadn’t taken him, he would have snuck away on his own. They always do. This way, the dwarves will be with him in the Mines. He may respond to his kin. As you said, he’s fought it off before. There’s reason to hope.”

Haret did not return the next day. As Abisina attended the Midsummer celebrations and thrilled at her father’s every word, her happiness was chilled by thoughts of Haret riding with centaurs, or perhaps by now, digging his own grave.

That afternoon, hundreds of punts put forth from the bank of the River Deliverance to watch an archery contest. Abisina sat in the front of one with Meelah and Findlay. Rueshlan stood at the back, propelling the punt with a long pole, while Frayda sat near him, conversing in low tones. Here below the Sylvyads, the river ran gently, the torrents higher up smoothed out by the thirst of the trees. On the western bank, the archers prepared their bowstrings, tested the wind, and calculated the angle between them and the target—a series of rings hung from branches on the far bank.

Abisina had never been in a boat before. She loved the sensation of floating and the sound of moving water. She was less comfortable sitting so close to Meelah, who chatted about those in the boats around them and that evening’s bard performance. Abisina had to fight her instinct to speak in monosyllables, to hide in the face of Meelah’s Vranian beauty. Despite his brown eyes, Findlay flustered her, too. Abisina was acutely aware of his presence and blushed if he happened to brush against her.

It was a relief when the archery contest started. Abisina was riveted, evaluating the archers’ form and predicting the accuracy of each shot based on angle, wind speed and direction, and the draw of the bow.

“Too sharp an angle with the wind northwest,” Abisina murmured under her breath as she watched one of Alden’s arrows fly wide of the last ring.

“I think I’ll have to see you shoot sometime.” Findlay laughed next to her. “That’s the third archer whose short- comings you’ve diagnosed correctly before the arrow came near the target!”

“I—I love to shoot,” Abisina admitted, embarrassed that Findlay had heard her.

“Watch Glynholly.” Findlay pointed to the faun who was about to take her turn. “It’s the only time you’ll see her so serious.”

“Glynholly has won the last two years,” Rueshlan called from the back. “At this rate, they’ll make her retire like Frayda!”

Abisina glanced toward her father. The pride on his face as he looked at Frayda unsettled her. And Frayda’s shining eyes disturbed her even more. Was it the glow of a compliment from Watersmeet’s leader, or was it—something more?

“Frayda has never been beaten.” Findlay leaned toward Abisina and spoke confidentially. Abisina’s pulse surged, though she didn’t know if it was the look that passed between her father and Frayda or Findlay’s closeness that made her so jittery.

“No one would challenge her anymore,” Meelah added. “She still runs all the drills, though. Our mama’s one of her drill captains.”

“Drills?” Abisina asked.

“All of Watersmeet drills on one team or another,” Findlay explained. “Alden handles the axe-play, Frayda the archery, and a man named Neiall, the fencing.”

Cheers erupted across the water as Glynholly’s arrow passed through the final ring without moving it a hair’s breadth. Abisina cheered, too.

“Look at Alden,” Findlay said, touching Abisina’s hand lightly—and taking her breath away—as he pointed out the dwarf. “There is quite a rivalry between those two. Alden looks ready to explode!”

Abisina followed Findlay’s finger, but before she could pick out the dwarf among the archers, there was an alarmed shout from farther down the bank. A palomino centaur broke from the trees followed by two others, all galloping hard.

“Überwolves!” The cry rang across the water. “Half a league from here!”

The boat lurched beneath her as Rueshlan sent it hurtling toward the shore. All along the bank, the archers of Watersmeet put arrows to strings, while those who had other weapons drew them and gathered around the centaurs.

The punt struck the shore with a jarring thud and Rueshlan leapt out, followed by Frayda, who was handed a bow and quiver before she had even climbed the bank. Findlay was on his feet, too, Abisina close behind him. But Rueshlan called out, “Stay in the boat, Meelah! And you, too, Abisina! Findlay, stay with them!”

Abisina was about to argue when an eerie howl filled the air.

“Over there!” someone cried as two hulking figures came through the trees. They stood a least a head taller than the centaurs who reeled to meet them. Their yellow eyes gleamed, their black lips drawn back to reveal long fangs. Like their wolf brethren, silver fur covered their bodies, but they stood on hind legs and carried crude spears in their clawed forefeet. The hair around their necks and down their backs stood on end, and Abisina could smell a wild, musky odor. She remembered the strange wolf tracks Haret had seen as they neared Watersmeet.

Arrows rained down on the überwolves the moment they left the cover of the trees, but none penetrated their thick coats. It was the palomino centaur who got off the best shot, close as she was, sinking an arrow deep into the belly of the first überwolf.

Frayda leapt onto a boulder, took aim, and shot in one liquid motion. The second überwolf fell dead, and the palomino got another shot off to finish the first.

Thinking the danger over, Abisina was surprised to see the three centaurs dive back into the trees in pursuit of something beyond her sight. Kyron and a group of others ran farther down the riverbank before plunging into the woods.

“Where are they going?” Abisina asked.

“There must be more!” Findlay said.

Meelah had scrambled out of the punt. “I want to see them!” she cried and set off running.

“Meelah!” Findlay yelled, but the little girl didn’t stop.

Findlay and Abisina raced after her.

When Abisina reached the edge of the trees, she found Rueshlan standing over the bodies of the fallen überwolves, directing the pursuit. “Alden, take your group north along the river. Glynholly, you head south. We’ll follow Torden.” He pointed where the palomino centaur and her partners had disappeared into the forest. Then he caught sight of Abisina, Findlay, and Meelah. “Abisina! You and Findlay must take Meelah back to Watersmeet.”

“But, Father—”

“No, Abisina.” His tone brooked no argument. “I want all of you safe. Wait for me at home.”

They could only watch as Glynholly, Alden, and Rueshlan led their teams away, leaving behind the unarmed folk who had scrambled ashore when Torden sounded the alarm.

Several agonizing hours passed as they waited in tense silence. Once Meelah clasped her hands together and cried out, “Oh, Vigar, protect them!”—and then she was quiet again while Abisina and Findlay took turns pacing before Rueshlan’s hearth. Twice Abisina stood up and announced, “I’m going.”

“We train for this,” Findlay argued. “Überwolves are the most common threat, but sometimes it’s minotaurs—”

“Minotaurs?”

“Vigar got rid of most of them long ago, but now and then they threaten us. There’s even a dragon that flies over occasionally. They’re looking for folk straying from the protection of the Sylvyads. It’s been a long time since someone’s been taken. Our training takes care of that.”

The minotaurs and the dragon aren’t signs of an advancing evil
, Abisina thought with some relief.
Vigar’s warning in the garden has nothing to do with them.

But as evening approached, Abisina could not contain her anxiety. “I can’t wait any longer, Findlay,” she said. “I have to go out there!”

“We promised Rueshlan we would stay here.” Findlay sounded firm, but his eyes cut toward the door, and she knew he wanted to be out there, too.

She had just retrieved the bow that Haret made her, with the intention of going after her father, when Rueshlan walked in.

“Father!” Abisina threw herself at him.

“It’s all right, Abisina,” Rueshlan spoke with little energy. Hugging him, Abisina smelled fresh air on his tunic, but wrinkled her nose when she caught a whiff of centaur.

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Findlay said. “She was about to walk out after you!”

“Abisina!”

“I didn’t come all this way to lose you again, Father!” Abisina insisted. “What happened?”

Rueshlan sank into a chair. “It was a large pack—far larger than anything we’ve seen in years. But they must not have been ready for a fight, because they headed toward the Mountains Eternal as soon as our teams came together. A cadre of centaurs is still on the trail, but the wolves were moving fast. I doubt they’ll catch them.” Rueshlan rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Are—are the bards still singing tonight?” Meelah asked, bringing a smile to Rueshlan’s face.

“Of course! It takes more than a pack of überwolves to interrupt Midsummer! And Abisina has never heard our bards.”

“They’re wonderful!” Meelah said rapturously.

Abisina could see the strain behind her father’s smile. He’d said the pack was larger than anything seen in years. Could
this
be a sign? She had to tell him about Vigar’s warning.

But the danger had passed. And Rueshlan looked so tired. She could wait to tell him—until after the Midsummer celebration.

The folk of Watersmeet filled tier upon tier of the amphi- theater again that night until it overflowed with the light of their torches. News of the überwolves must have traveled through the community—the mood was more subdued than the night Abisina had arrived—but as the folk poured in, they seemed ready to throw themselves into the celebration at hand. Frayda came and whispered something to Rueshlan that made his eyebrows pull together, but when he caught Abisina looking at him, he squeezed her hand in reassurance. “There’s nothing to worry about, Abisina. Just enjoy the music.”

She studied the stage at the bottom of the theater where the performers gathered: two dwarves, four fauns, five humans, and two centaurs. The bards stood among a cluster of instruments: harps of various sizes; lutes ranging from smaller than Abisina’s forearm to one that she could hardly imagine Rueshlan handling; drums made of animal skins stretched over stumps, hollowed logs, and what looked like an enormous mushroom cap. Two fauns played a light and merry tune on a harp and a flute until everyone had filed in. Meelah hugged Abisina in excitement, and Findlay smiled at her over his sister’s head.

Before the fauns’ song ended, Abisina caught Alden’s eye, but at her hopeful look, he shook his head. Haret had not returned.

The performance began when one of the centaur bards came forward and called out the familiar greeting: “Watersmeet!”