Darkwell - Douglas Niles [38]
Where are you, Robyn? His mind voiced the question that possessed him. His throat tightened and he shook his head angrily, but though he struggled to overlook his own role in the druid's flight, guilt soon rode roughshod over his feelings. And following the guilt came self-pity, and then the anger he directed at his companions.
"Damn!" he cursed at the darkness. He tried unsuccessfully to shake off his mood as he joined his companions over their cold bread and cheese.
"We'll have to stand watches. I'll take the midwatch." Tristan grabbed a large chunk of dark bread and chewed angrily.
"Have some wine," offered the bard, and the king gratefully took the wineskin.
"I'll take the first watch." Daryth said as he finally entered the camp.
"And the morning watch for me! We'll let the halfling sleep in," piped the bard, chuckling.
"I can stand watch, too! How come I never get a turn?" Newt was indignant. "I can see in the dark better than any of you!"
"Take the morning watch with me. I could use the extra pair of eyes!" Tavish tried to humor the dragon, and Newt, satisfied, curled up to sleep.
"I can't b-believe this is Myrloch Vale – Vale!" Yazilliclick looked around nervously. Dark clouds pressed ominously overhead, and the lifeless forest stretched to the horizon on all sides. "It – it's all so dead – so dead! Wait till Genna sees this – till Genna sees!"
Tristan took another swig from the wineskin, then turned to Daryth. "Let's check the horses before it's too dark to see."
The Calishite shrugged and followed him to the little clearing in which they had staked their mounts. The king tugged on the line that held Avalon, while Daryth checked the other horses. Tristan stared at his companion all the while, but Daryth would not meet his gaze.
"Look at me, Daryth! Why won't you look at me?"
Daryth turned to stare at the king, but the look was more painful than his avoidance. Tristan saw great depths of accusation in the Calishite's black eyes. Then, wordlessly, Daryth went back to his task.
"Why this silent invective?"
"You drove Robyn away," whispered Daryth, in a voice that thundered in Tristan's mind. "She could be dead!"
"And she could be alive! We'll find her, I swear it – and it'll be easier if we work together! When we do find her, she will accept my apology and forgive me. She knows I made a mistake!" The king spat his answers, one after the other, before taking another pull of the wine. The liquid cooled the heat of his throat and seemed to calm his pounding heart. "By the gods, she will forgive me!"
"You ask too much of her," replied the Calishite in a voice of silken quiet.
"Too much? It's asking too much to forgive a simple mistake?"
"You have the love of the finest woman I have ever met. What cause do you have for throwing it away?"
" Stop it! I command you, as your king! You took the oath to serve me, as binding as upon any lord of the Ffolk!"
"And serve you I shall… sire. But you cannot command the feelings inside a man. Until now, I would not have thought you fool enough to try."
Tristan's hand went instinctively to his sword, but the bitter edge of truth in Daryth's words held him back. Instead of drawing his weapon, he stared in anger and pain at his friend.
"I chose to follow you, remember?" Daryth continued, his words spilling forth in heat. "You spared my life, true, when I would have stolen your purse. Since then, we have fought great enemies side by side, and I have watched your power grow. I have always felt that you were a man with a great destiny before him, and I was pleased to help you reach that destiny. But now to see you throw that away for a trivial encounter with a maid -"
"I did not throw anything away! I will make it up to Robyn! How does that mean I have renounced my destiny?"
"You have proven yourself unworthy of her love!"
Tristan stepped back as if he had been struck, but then he stopped and stared at his companion. He studied Daryth carefully and came to a startling realization.
"You love her, too, don't you?" Daryth flushed and turned away while