Watersmeet (30 page)

“Rueshlan! I couldn’t see you in the shadows!” He laughed nervously, and Abisina realized that he had been as frightened as she was. He was a rather young faun, his horns just small nubs peeking through his reddish hair.

“So you drew the early morning shift, Ulian?” Rueshlan asked, and the faun blushed.

“It’s my first time, and Glynholly thought I’d do less harm in the daylight.”

Her father trotted forward and as the faun noticed Abisina, his blush deepened. “Hello, Rueshlan’s daughter,” he managed.

“You acquitted yourself beautifully in your first duty,” Rueshlan said, and pride swelled the young faun’s chest. “I’ll be sure to mention it to Glynholly.”

“Thank you, Rueshlan!”

They left Ulian to his sentry duty and trotted on to where the stream left the trees. Before them lay the valley floor dotted with campfires. Plump wild donkeys and noble stags grazed nearby as the host of Watersmeet gathered for breakfast.

“I don’t know if I’m ready, Abisina,” Rueshlan said, slowing to a walk. “When we ride back in there, I’m Keeper of Watersmeet again.”

“And my
father
. As you said in Vigar’s garden: you’ll always be my father.”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice husky. “I don’t have to choose.”

But as they rode into the camp, Abisina could not help asking herself,
Am I ready?

Just after noon, the army arrived at the western border of the Motherland—an unbroken line of dark trees. Abisina was relieved that they would not actually enter the forest. The trees grew close together and were hung with moss. As they skirted the edge, she felt as if the trees were watching her, ready to bar her way if she were to enter. She was sure they were
alive
—like the Sylvyads—but she didn’t want to touch them. Even walking in their shadows cast a pall over Watersmeet’s forces.

Lohring and several of her advisors appeared in camp that evening, materializing out of the darkness as Breide ladled out a dinner nobody wanted. The fairy army would be there in the morning to begin the climb to the Col.

As night settled, the camp had none of the usual hum of conversation, the songs of fauns, or even the sound of swords being sharpened. Everyone sat quietly, tension etched on each face around the fire. Elodie looked uncharacteristically serious. Meelah rested her head against Findlay’s shoulder, brow furrowed. Findlay stared fixedly at a point on the ground. Abisina both wanted to catch his eye and avoid it; they still had said little to each other. Haret sat near Breide, brooding, and even Breide’s irrepressible chatter was stilled. Alden, Frayda, Glynholly, Kyron, Torden—all settled into moody silence. Rueshlan sat alone. He had consulted with Lohring and the generals throughout dinner, but the fairy had returned to her own camp, somewhere deep in the trees, and there were no details or strategies left to review.

He looked so lonely. Abisina went to her father and put her hand in his. She knew that his thoughts matched hers: this time tomorrow, they would be on the Vranian side of the Obruns. The fairy scouts estimated it would be several days before they would meet the Vranian army, but crossing those mountains marked the end of something. There had been a lot of pain in the months—almost a year!—since Abisina had fled Vranille, but there had been joy, too. More joy than she had ever known. Tomorrow she would return to the tyranny of Vran. What would it cost her this time?

The heaviness of the camp’s mood was reflected in the morning’s weather. A low bank of clouds had rolled in, bringing a misty rain that woke the army from their uneasy sleep. As Elodie and Abisina stumbled out of their bedrolls, they saw Lohring standing in front of the curtain of trees, hands on her hips, head thrown back. On either side of her were four more fairies, all carrying shining swords and longbows. Glancing toward the trees, Abisina saw no one, but she felt sure that the full fairy army was concealed behind the trunks and branches.

They appeared moments later. She didn’t see them step out of the shadows; they were just there. And then row upon row appeared behind the first. Abisina had to remind herself that the fairies were allies. Could there really be only three hundred?

Rueshlan was already striding forward to greet Lohring and her generals. Abisina took a few steps, not wanting to be separated from her father now that the time had come, but she stopped. He had promised she would ride with him through the Col; he would be back for her.

As Abisina crouched down to roll up her blanket, Findlay approached, holding out a piece of bread. “Breakfast?” he asked awkwardly.

Elodie mumbled something about needing breakfast herself and left them alone.

Abisina took the crust, knowing she would never be able to force it down.

“Abisina, I’m—”

“No, Findlay,
I’m
sorry.”

“But you were right. It’s easy for us to think we know what’s best. Especially me. I’ve hardly been anywhere but Watersmeet. I’ve seen nothing of battle but a few skirmishes with überwolves. I want it to be so simple and clear, but it’s not.”

Abisina turned the bread over in her hand. “Maybe it
is
simple. My father—he sees what’s right, and he acts. My mother did the same. But I don’t see as clearly, and there is so much at stake. I think that is what’s making me so me angry. I was—
am
—jealous of your certainty—of everyone’s. But I won’t take it out on you in the future,” she added ruefully.

“Well, you can, if you need to,” Findlay offered. “But maybe you could give me some warning next time?”

“I will,” Abisina said, and she found herself smiling—a real smile she would not have thought possible when she had awakened in the rain.

It took all day to climb to the entrance of the Col. At midmorning, Abisina thought they must be close as they crested the peak under which they’d camped the night before. But ahead of them, across a barren plain, rose two more peaks with a low, even ridge between, like a swaybacked old horse: the Low Col. It had been described so many times, she knew it at once.

Compared to the jagged peaks stretching to the east and west, this level ridge did indeed look low and passable. But the terrain was steep and rugged, well above the tree line.

By late afternoon, Abisina and Rueshlan stood at the Col, Abisina on Rueshlan’s back, ready to descend the southern slopes. Behind them snaked the long line of the army, footsore and subdued. Only the fairies, marching in their own formation to one side, looked unruffled by the demanding climb. All day, they had moved back and forth along the line of soldiers, Rueshlan conferring with captains and offering an encouraging word.

Now, he stood at the front of the column, ready to pass into enemy territory. A tremor passed through him.

“What is it, Father? Do you see something?”

“No.” He sighed. “But down there, somewhere in that vast wilderness, Charach is waiting. I can feel his hate reaching toward me.”

His tone was so despairing, Abisina panicked. “It’s not too late to turn back! Glynholly’s plan, holding the Col! We can still do that, can’t we?”

“Daughter”—he reached back and took her hand—“it was always too late for Glynholly’s plan. But I am glad you’re with me.”

And with that, Rueshlan took a step forward and they crossed the Low Col.

Abisina hardly closed her eyes their first night on the Vranian side of the Obruns. She was not alone. The army simply paused in its march down the exposed slope, rolled up in their blankets, and waited for light. But Abisina couldn’t have slept no matter how comfortable her bed. Every time she started to doze, she was sure that she heard the clank of armor or pounding feet.

She gave up all pretense of sleep when the dark sky began to lighten in the east. A few paces away, a tiny fire flickered. Lohring had just joined Rueshlan and Frayda to give them the most recent report. Straining to hear, Abisina caught Lohring’s musical voice: “—the wooded terrain. At this rate, they will not reach the Col for six, maybe seven days.”

“Then we have a little breathing space,” Rueshlan concluded. “I’ve already asked Kyron and Alden to assay the land within two days’ march of here. If there is any ground that will suit us, they will find it.”

“That would leave four or five days then,” Frayda mused. “I think the dwarves would have time for some earthwork—trenches, at the least.”

“And the fairies will find the best tree-stands for our archers. We could even station ourselves along the path that the Vranians—”

“No, Lohring!” Rueshlan’s commanding tone surprised Abisina. “We’ve talked about this before. Complete defeat of the Vranians is not our goal. Just Charach.”

“I hope you do not underestimate the enemy, Rueshlan.” The fairy was ready for an argument.

“Morning is here,” he said, refusing to take up the fight. “The armies need to move.”

With a quick nod, Lohring left the fire, and though Abisina watched, she lost her immediately in the tricky light before dawn. She knew the fairies were close by, but she hadn’t seen where they had made their camp. She only knew it was not among the folk of Watersmeet.

Frayda left to oversee loading the arrows back onto the stags, and when she was gone, Abisina threw off her blanket and stood up, thankful to have some time alone with her father.

“Did you sleep?” she asked, warming her cold hands at the fire.

Rueshlan smiled. “No more than anyone. But as you heard, we’ve made good time, and Charach’s advance has slowed. We will be able to pick the place where the armies meet.”

“Lohring sounded worried about the Vranians.”

“Her numbers are small, and the fairies’ Motherland lies just beyond the Col. She thinks I’m willing to be merciful because Watersmeet is not directly threatened.”

“But she doesn’t think mercy is wise, does she?”

“She is doubtful.” Rueshlan studied Abisina for a moment. “But I have to do this my way. I will spare nothing to stop Charach, but I am not ready to sacrifice all the Vranians.”

The army advanced to the base of the Obruns and into the forest. Kyron and Alden returned from their scouting with good news: between the wood through which Watersmeet’s forces currently moved and the older, denser pine forest where Charach was delayed, there were several leagues of grassland. Where the wood and grassland met, Kyron and Alden had discovered a small rise of land on which they could place their archers. To the west, a finger of the forest reached into the grassy plain, providing cover and height for the fairy archers. The hills on the left and the trees on the right would protect the flanks of Watersmeet’s army. If the dwarves dug trenches in front of the archers’ and fairies’ positions, the Vranians would be forced to attack Watersmeet at the front, allowing Watersmeet to take the preferable defensive role.

Less than two days after cresting the Low Col, the Watersmeet army had marched to the chosen ground. And by the next morning, the dwarves had begun to dig trenches.

Haret thrived on this work: barking orders; wielding his shovel with such power that his hands blistered and bled; refusing to quit until Breide insisted he eat a bowl of soup. “It’s as good as my grandmother’s,” Haret whispered to Abisina, “but don’t tell Breide.” As Abisina walked away, he shouted after her: “And should we find her again—don’t tell my grandmother either!”

The discovery of a ruin less than a league from the battleground, back toward the safety of the mountains, further excited the dwarves. The ruin seemed to be a remnant of the Obrun City, thrust somehow aboveground by the Great Earthquake. It was hard to say what the building had been, as most of it was reduced to rubble, but there were a few standing walls that provided some shelter from arrow flight. Haret and the other dwarves left the trench-digging in shifts to stand with earth in their hands and marvel at the small bits of stonework still intact.

Abisina tried to keep her mind off Charach’s approach by studying the battlefield and the land around it. She talked archery strategy with Elodie constantly until the topic was exhausted. By the end of the second day at the battle site, Abisina had nothing left to do, nothing left to discuss, and her nerves were beginning to fray. Every few hours, a fairy arrived with an update on Charach’s movements, but the reports changed little, and Abisina stopped listening to them. The dwarves still worked on the trenches, but Haret told her that she’d be no help in digging. “It’s dwarf work,” he said loftily. Breide had taken over the ruin and set up the healers and food preparation, but there was no one to heal yet and Breide allowed only a select few to work on meals. Meelah was always underfoot, but Breide knew better than to send her away. Abisina couldn’t help but wish that
something
would happen. Anything had to be better than the waiting.

On the third day, she and Elodie were walking the eastern rise, discussing for the thousandth time how the Vranian army might approach and which shots would be most effective. Abisina had just said, “I think we’ve talked about every possibility, Elodie—” when a loud shout came from the brushy area on the far side of the rise. They looked at each other, and at a second shout, they set off running.

They were racing down the slope when Torden came charging in their direction.

“Did you hear that?” she called.

“Someone was shouting!” Abisina answered.