For the Killing of Kings by Howard Andrew Jones

Author:Howard Andrew Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

14

Perfect Match

The remote trackways she traveled with Kyrkenall and N’lahr as they crossed into The Fragments were little more than dirt paths skirting steep slopes, usually under a tunnel of tree canopy. Intermittent vistas opened on high waterfalls plunging hundreds of feet, conjuring thunder and spray that glistened on boulder moss and the petals of wildflowers blooming in a profusion of yellow and blue and purple. Rarely cliff sides showed a mix of brown and gray shales; most everywhere was covered in a great swathe of plant life on which plentiful wildlife subsisted. Horned elk and spotted deer, as well as rabbit and smaller creatures, were often visible, and Elenai wished they could stop to bring one down. She wearied of dried rations. But then she was bone weary of nearly everything. They’d been days on the road after the recovery of N’lahr, and if anything, they’d been pressing even harder than they had since they fled Darassus.

Kyrkenall was ebullient, keeping up a running patter of reminiscences and clever commentary on the state of affairs that N’lahr encouraged with an occasional dry question or observation. When Kyrkenall proved unknowledgeable about current events in Darassus, N’lahr turned to her, and transformed their exhausting ride into a grueling endurance challenge as she feigned a ready alertness while answering incisive inquiries about political figures and training patterns she’d hardly considered before. She felt smaller and duller for the scrutiny. This wasn’t how she’d imagined interacting with her hero.

They settled into a welcome silence, which somehow better matched the scenery as they passed through low mountains separating narrow river valleys. The Fragments had suffered more than any other realm during the war, and ruins dotted many places. She saw a particularly large collection of them late morning on their third day of travel through the realm, dozens of overgrown foundations near a crumbling stone bridge over a weed-choked rivulet. She guessed the vast surrounding meadow had once served as pasture or farmland.

Kyrkenall slowed and put his hand to the haft of the recurved black bow holstered beside his saddle. N’lahr stopped beside him and both scanned the far riverbank near the bridge.

Elenai drew to a stop behind them. “What is it?” she asked softly.

The archer whispered an answer. “Kobalin. Up ahead, there.”

Elenai searched the bushes to the left of the bridge. She saw and heard nothing of interest, apart from the burble of flowing water. She realized then that she should have been hearing birdcalls and frowned at herself for being distracted. How did those two stay functioning when they were so tired?

They were used to it, she reminded herself, and probably sensing things through their rings. If she still hoped to earn a ring, she had to get used to it herself. No matter that she hadn’t had more than five hours of contiguous sleep in days.

“Hang back,” N’lahr ordered, and with a click of his tongue urged his roan gelding ahead. Kyrkenall rode with him. A disappointed Elenai found herself left shepherding their small herd of spare mounts.

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