Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [44]
Yawning, she fought to keep her eyes open. Wind sighed through the branches of the trees that sheltered them, carrying the scents of loam and leaves. The soft moss she lay upon was a welcoming pillow that beckoned her to sleep. Beside her, Doriantha had settled again on her own bed, her stories seemingly at an end.
"How far is it now to the Tangled Trees?" Larajin asked, stifling yet another yawn.
"If we rise at first light, we'll reach camp by tomorrow evening. Just in time for the Turning."
Larajin was too sleepy to ask what that was. Instead she sank onto her mossy bed and drifted into an exhausted sleep, dreaming of the mother and sister she had never met-and of the brother she hoped to meet someday soon.
*
The first warning that they were approaching the elven camp came in the form of a snarl from the treetops, ahead and to the left. It was echoed a moment later by a loud yeowl, directly overhead. An enormous shape hurtled down through the tangle of branches, landing with feline grace no more than two paces ahead of Larajin. Round eyes glared at her, and sharp white teeth glinted in the moonlight as a giant lynx stared her down. Its tail lashed behind it as it growled and its ears were flat against its head. Suddenly wide awake, Larajin froze, barely daring to breathe.
Doriantha spoke a sharp word in the wild elves' tongue. Tail still lashing, the lynx gave Larajin one last baleful glare, then turned and padded obediently toward Doriantha. The elves behind Larajin laughed as Doriantha stroked the head of the lynx, which rubbed against her like a contented house cat. One of them nudged Larajin forward.
Angry at herself for being so frightened of what was obviously one of the wild elves' pets, Larajin stumbled forward on aching feet, following Doriantha and the lynx. Ahead in the forest, she could see the dark shapes of tents sprinkled among the trees. They were round and squat, like mushrooms. Under the thick canopy of branches their brown leather woidd have been invisible from the skies above. While most of the tents were silent and dark, Larajin could hear low voices murmuring inside one or two of those she passed by, and the
occasional giggle or moan that made would have made her blush, had she not been so exhausted.
After walking for a few moments more, she saw a small tent up ahead that was illuminated from within. A single figure moved inside it, casting a dark shadow on its strangely mottled walls, which glowed a bright, translucent green.
As they drew nearer to this tent, Doriantha paused and spoke another command to the lynx. It turned and leaped into a tree, climbing swiftly up its trunk. One of the elves protested the lynx's departure, gesturing at Larajin, but Doriantha cut him off with a curt word. She spoke at length to the members of her patrol in their own language, and at last they grudgingly nodded their heads.
She turned then, to Larajin. There is someone inside the tent who will want to meet you," she said quietly, "an important person, a druid of the Circle of Emerald Leaves. Please do not give the members of my patrol any cause for alarm."
Larajin glanced around her, and saw that several of Doriantha's band had their hands close to the hilts of their daggers. One had even unlimbered her bow and was silently stringing it. Larajin started to raise her hands to demonstrate that they were empty, then thought better of it. The locket that hung around her wrist could be as effective as any weapon, if the goddess so willed it. She didn't want to remind the elves of its presence.
Instead she nodded, and meekly followed Doriantha while the other elves waited behind. She could feel their suspicious eyes upon her back, all the way to the tent.
The mottled texture proved to be the result of the tent's construction. The walls were stitched together from hundreds of overlapping leaves of every shape and size. From within came the sound of a woman singing in the wild elves' tongue.