The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [75]
"Maybe. Then there's the question of the masks."
"They spooked me a little," Alec admitted.
Micum pocketed the arrowhead. "That's why they wear them, I'm sure, besides hiding their cowardly faces."
"Actually, I think I've seen something like them, too," said Seregil. "Not with the animal motifs, but the Khatme who live up in the highest valleys wear some sort of slotted visor to protect them from going snow blind. It cuts down on the glare."
Alec stood up and flexed his shoulder. "That makes three clans."
"So who in Bilairy's name are they?" growled Micum.
"Aurenfaie, or someone pretending to be them," Seregil said with a shrug. "Which makes me think that it wasn't just happenstance that we ran across them."
"Ulan?"
Seregil shrugged. "I don't know how long his reach is, here in Skala."
Micum grasped his stick and pushed himself up to his feet. "We're not going to be able to answer that unless we go back and search the bodies."
Seregil considered that. "Assuming they're dead. None of us knows one of Sebrahn's songs from another, but that didn't sound the way I remember the killing one. Whatever the case, either they're dead, and no problem, or alive and we don't know how many of them there are, except they outnumber us. I say we head for the inn for now, and reconsider in daylight. Alec, can you ride?"
"I'm fine. Come on, before they catch up with us."
"Then I'd better find the road," Micum said as he climbed up into the saddle using his good leg.
Seregil stood, holding his horse's reins. "Micum?"
"What?"
"I don't think we should go to Watermead. You don't want us leading trouble to your doorstep. Not after all these years of being so careful."
"I know," Micum said, regret clear on his face. "Let's find the damn inn before it gets dark, and see if Thero has any news for us."
They cast around for nearly an hour before they found the road again, and Seregil was glad to find it well traveled. The frozen mud and trampled snow were marked with hundreds of other hoof prints; even Micum would have trouble tracking them here. Hopefully if their pursuers had survived, they'd have given up on them by now. Somehow, though, Seregil couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was right behind them, even when a look over his shoulder across the flat terrain showed that there was no one there.
Rieser came to slowly, aware at first of nothing but the stabbing pain in his head, snow on his face, and the taste of blood at the back of his throat. Someone was shaking him and that only made everything worse. He grabbed for the hand and opened his eyes. Hazadrien was leaning over him, and the sky beyond was full of sunset color. It had been afternoon when they'd found their prey. And lost them.
"Stop it, my friend. I'm alive." He sat up and felt blood run down over his lips from his nose. Hazadrien reached back for something and presented him with a yellow healing flower.
Rieser pressed it to his face gratefully and the bleeding stopped, but the pain in his head did not. Using the tayan'gil's shoulder to steady himself, he climbed to his feet and looked around for the others.
They lay where they'd fallen, covered with a thin layer of fresh snow. Turmay lay next to him in a crumpled heap, his oo'lu trapped awkwardly under his left shoulder. Two horses remained, pawing in the snow for grass; the others were nowhere to be seen.
Nowen sat up, holding her head in both hands. "What in the name of Aura was that?"
"I don't know," Rieser told her. "Help me check the others."
She appeared to be in as bad shape as Rieser, and they moved like invalids as they slowly went from one to another, shaking them awake.
All of them were hurt to some degree. Rieser came last to young Thiren lying facedown in the snow. When he didn't stir, Rieser rolled him over and found the boy's eyes fixed and his face dark with settled blood. His bow lay broken beside him.
Nowen came to Rieser and rested a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was thick with grief and pain