The Riddle - Alison Croggon [144]
Dharin was looking at her in awe, and she realized he had not seen her in her power before. She straightened herself and tried again, steeling her will. Again nothing happened. She shook her head, bewildered, but by now they were almost level with the sleds, which had turned to block them. Dharin’s team swerved violently to avoid a collision. He was making for a tiny space between the right sled and the rise beyond, calling his dogs to bunch together. If they made it through, they might have a chance.
Wildly they raced for the gap, and at the last moment the Jussack urged his sled out of the way. Maerad glimpsed his face as they passed, his eyes cold, his blond beard forking down from his chin. For a moment she thought he was not human at all, and then realized that his face was tattooed, with strange blue marks curling around his cheekbones and eyes, making him look savage and alien.
Then they were past the sled; they were flying along the valley. They might just make it. Maerad’s heart leaped in hope.
But suddenly Dharin slumped forward with a grunt. The traces went slack and the dogs, bewildered, became tangled and lost their direction.
Maerad turned, her mouth open, and saw that an evil-looking bolt was protruding from just below Dharin’s collarbone. It had passed right through his back. She hadn’t even heard it. So her shield wasn’t working either. What was wrong with her? But she had no time for thought: their sled struck a spruce with a splintering crash, shivering Maerad to the bone and pulling the dogs up so sharply that some tumbled over in their traces. Dharin was flung over the rails and landed on Maerad.
Forgetting everything else, she lifted him off her with a strength she had not known she possessed and straightened him lengthwise on the sled on his side. The black feathered shaft of the arrow stuck out from his back. She bent over him, trying to pull the arrow out through his chest, her fingers slippery with blood, but he lifted up his hand and clasped her fingers. He opened his eyes and looked up into Maerad’s face. His eyes were very blue and clear, and his face was very pale.
“It is no good, Maerad,” he said, gasping for breath. “The life already goes out of me.”
Maerad stared at him, all the love she felt for this gentle young man welling into her heart. “No!” she said. “You can’t die. I can heal you.”
“They will kill you, too. I hope your death is as merciful as mine. I am told —” Dharin winced, and a trickle of blood came out of his mouth. “I’m told that it is often better to kill yourself, rather than to be captured by these people. I’m sorry, little cousin.”
Maerad could find no words to answer him, and bent over Dharin, clasping his hand and stroking his face. He pressed her hand gently, trying to say something. She pressed her ear to his mouth.
“If you are not killed — if you ever speak to my mother — say my farewells for me. I will see her beyond the Gates.”
“I will. I’ll do anything. I love you.” Dharin’s blood seemed to be all over Maerad, in her hair, on her clothes, all over her hands; and still more poured out of him. “You have nothing to be sorry for; it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. You can’t die.”
“Nay.” Dharin drew a shuddering breath and tried to smile. “Nay. It is not your fault. I love you too, cousin. I am glad that I knew you.” His breath now bubbled with blood, and he tried to say something else, but Maerad couldn’t hear it.
“What?” she whispered, her face close to his.
“It doesn’t hurt. Don’t be afraid.” Then he shuddered and went still, his eyes turning up into his head, and Maerad knew he was dead. She closed his eyelids with her fingers and kissed his forehead, remembering how she had done the same for her mother, so many years ago. Was she cursed, that she caused the death of anyone who loved her?
She had been so intent on Dharin that she had not realized that his team was howling. The mournful cries echoed unbearably through her body, like the sound of her own grief. She stood