LYNX’S COUP
Karigan did not reawaken until sometime in the gray
of morning when she perceived someone in the tent with her. She
opened crusty eyes to discover Graelalea kneeling beside her and
peering beneath the blanket at her leg.
“The leeches appear
sated,” Graelalea said. “They have detached from your
leg.”
The leeches! Karigan
had forgotten about them, and thought it just fine she had. She
rotated her foot and shifted her leg, grimacing as pain burned
through her flesh.
Graelalea gazed
sideways at her. “How does it feel?”
“Very
sore.”
The Eletian nodded.
“I am not surprised. I shall spread some evaleoren on your wounds
and that should ease some of the pain. I’d make a poultice, but
Hana carried our herbs.” Anything Hana had carried was gone with
her. Graelalea produced a pot of the salve and spread it gently on
Karigan’s leg. Immediately it calmed the pain. “Only time will tell
if the work of the leeches proves efficacious. I fear, however, we
haven’t the time to allow you the rest you require.”
Karigan nodded,
barely withholding a sigh. She’d like nothing more than to sleep
and keep off her leg, but there could be no waiting around in
Blackveil, and of course she did not wish to appear
weak.
“So we are going on
to Castle Argenthyne,” Karigan said, feeling a strange thrill
despite the circumstances, to be journeying toward a place that
had, for most of her life, existed only as a fairy
tale.
“The tiendan and I
will resume our journey to the castle,” Graelalea said. “Your Grant
and the others have been debating whether to continue with us, or
to turn back.”
Grant had already
acknowledged that trying to return without the Eletians to guide
them was likely suicidal. Yet it did not make sense to be leading
poor, blind Yates to Castle Argenthyne, or, for that matter, her
with her hurt leg and unreliable visions. And they had found out
the truth of what the Eletians sought in Argenthyne: the Sleepers.
Had they achieved what the king asked of them, or would he want
them to press on?
“We recovered your
pack from your campsite,” Graelalea said. “I shall pass it in to
you, but first I’d like you to take a sip of this.” She produced
the cordial and Karigan eagerly took the flask to her lips. “One
sip only,” Graelalea reminded her.
Karigan reluctantly
returned the flask, licking her lips to ensure she didn’t miss a
single drop. Graelalea crawled out of the tent, then reappeared in
the opening and pushed in the pack Karigan had believed long
lost.
“When you are
ready,” the Eletian said, “come out and see if you wish to try some
food.”
At the mention of
food, Karigan’s stomach gurgled and she realized she was famished,
quite a change from when she’d felt so unwell only a day ago. Was
it the effect of the cordial? The leeches? She only hoped it was
not temporary.
She dug through her
pack looking for a change of clothes. The contents were none the
worse for wear—not even damp, which was miraculous. Maybe the
Eletians possessed drying magic, and a part of her did not doubt
it. She was grateful to have her own supplies and her own clothes
to change into. Her old pants were shredded beyond repair. She did
not think even meticulous Ty would be able to mend
them.
She crawled from the
tent and unsteadily rose to her feet. Placing weight on her leg
sent hornets buzzing in it and she winced. She steadied herself and
looked around at the campsite. Lhean fletched an arrow beside the
fire and gave her what looked like a genuinely friendly smile.
Grant sat hunched before the fire, pushing coals around with a
stick and muttering to himself. His appearance was haggard and
stubble failed to conceal the hollows beneath his cheekbones. He
was much diminished, looked unwell, and appeared unaware of
her.
Ard paused searching
through his pack for something and gave her a hard, penetrating
gaze. As if remembering himself, he schooled his expression to
something softer, but for some reason he didn’t look happy to see
her. “Well, look who’s up and about.” He smiled, but his joviality
rang false in her ears. Then again, she wasn’t herself and maybe
wasn’t perceiving things right.
“Karigan?” It was
Yates, also sitting by the fire, gazing in her general
direction.
“Hello,” she said,
and limped over to him, taking his hand.
“You all right?” he
asked.
“I’ll
live.”
Ard dropped his
whetting stone and swore. He bent over to retrieve it and said
nothing more.
Ghosting in the
background was Ealdaen, probably on watch. He spared her a glance,
but it was brief and indecipherable. She did not see Solan or
Telagioth, but perhaps they were in the Eletian tent, or guarding
another side of the perimeter.
“Good to see you
up,” Lynx said, but he did not look particularly
happy.
“What’s wrong?” she
asked.
He held up his
tobacco pouch and sighed mournfully. “My leaf has gone bad. Moldy.
And I’d been using it sparingly to make it last.”
Karigan was just
glad she was not the source of his
misery.
“Come sit with us,”
he said, and he helped her over to a seat by the fire. “Would you
like something to eat?”
“Yes.”
He fetched her a
spoon and a cup of gruel from a pot on the fire. Normally the stuff
was not very palatable, but this morning—afternoon?—it tasted like
a feast.
“Must be doing
better if you’ve an appetite,” Lynx observed.
She nodded and was
permitted seconds. She knew enough to take it slowly, and sipped at
intervals at the tea Lynx handed her. It had the tang of Blackveil,
for they were down to collecting drinking water from the rain that
fell through the leaves of the forest.
Her companions
remained quiet. Yates tapped his toe to some unheard music. No one
asked her about her adventures while separated from the group.
Yates must have filled them in. Still, the tension was palpable.
Grant hadn’t moved one bit, transfixed by the
campfire.
Graelalea emerged
from her tent and stood before them, hands on her hips. Ealdaen
drifted closer, and Solan and Telagioth appeared from the
woods.
“The day grows old,”
she announced. “It is time to push on. The question is, will
you be coming with us?” This she
directed at Grant.
Finally he moved,
gazing up at her with eyes shadowed by dark rings. Although it was
not especially warm, sweat glided down the sides of his
face.
“Ask him.” He nodded
in Lynx’s direction. “He seems to think he’s in
charge.”
Whoa! Karigan thought. Graelalea had mentioned
there was a debate, not a coup. She could not imagine quiet,
taciturn Lynx deciding to take charge. She glanced at Yates, who
wore a tight smile on his face. She’d have to ask him later what
had happened.
“I have assumed
command of the Sacoridian contingent of this expedition,” Lynx
confirmed. “Second in command is Karigan G’ladheon.”
Karigan almost
dropped her mug of tea. Second in command? Another surprise, though
it made sense. If Grant was out of favor, then certainly he
wouldn’t be second, and Yates could not see, and Ard was not
military or in the king’s service. That left her.
“What is your
decision, then, Rider Lynx?” Graelalea asked.
“We will continue
with you to Castle Argenthyne as our king would wish.”
Graelalea nodded as
if there had been nothing to it.
Karigan breathed a
sigh of relief just to have a decision one way or the
other.
“Suicide,” Grant
muttered. “You’re gonna find ruins and death. You should forget
those Sleepers.”
“We cannot,” Ealdaen
said. “I cannot, and I will not. I was one of those who left them
behind.”
His words hung in
the air, letting them all absorb what he’d said and what it
meant.
“So you were there
when . . .” Karigan began.
“Yes,” he replied.
His silvery eyes had taken on the aspect of cold pewter. “Yes, I
was there when Mornhavon attacked. I led the retreat. I abandoned
the Sleepers and . . . and the lady.” He abruptly turned
away.
Laurelyn, he’d
meant. The Queen of Argenthyne.
“We must break camp
and make use of what light we have left to us,” Graelalea
said.
Karigan wanted to
help, but Lynx ordered her to rest while she could. Because Yates
could offer little help, he sat with her and quietly filled her in
on the so-called debate they’d had about the mission.
“The man’s not
himself,” Yates said of Grant. “He’s becoming unhinged. He was
planning to march back to the wall even though he didn’t know the
way. He keeps going on about nythlings, too.”
“Nythlings?”
“We have no idea,”
Yates said, shrugging. “Lynx says Grant’s also been favoring one of
his arms like it hurts him.”
Karigan stole a
glance at Grant wrestling with one of the tents and it was true—he
was not using his right arm much.
“Anyway,” Yates
continued, “Lynx argued that our mission was not complete until we
saw Castle Argenthyne and the grove of the Sleepers. Like he said
just now, the king would want as much information as we could
gather. Grant said the king could go to the five
hells.”
Karigan raised an
eyebrow. That was not acceptable behavior for one in the service of
the king and in command of a mission.
“That’s when Lynx
announced he was taking command,” Yates said. And then he proudly
added, “I seconded him. I want to go home as much as anybody, but I
know my duty. Plus, I wasn’t about to follow Grant, not the way he
is now.”
“What about
Ard?”
“He preferred
turning back,” Yates replied. “He argued for it, but he wasn’t
about to go with just Grant and not the rest of us.”
“I guess I didn’t
get a vote,” Karigan said.
“I think we know
which way you’d choose. But once Lynx became commander, it’s his
order to keep going, anyway.”
So they knew which
way she’d choose, did they? Her sense of duty had become
predictable, but they might be surprised by how all too willing
she’d be to turn around. Even if Grant was becoming, as Yates said,
unhinged, his reasons for heading home were sound
enough.
And yet, Lynx was
right to continue, for they hadn’t completed the mission. She shook
her head. The mad man among them wanted to take the common sense
course and return home, and the sane man wanted to take the insane
route.
Such was the way of
it in Blackveil, where everything was turned upside
down.