That brief embrace nonetheless left her aching when she pulled away.
“That should keep me warm for a few hours,” she said. “Very…tactical.”
“It would be,” Olvir agreed. He flushed as he went on, but he did go on, and there was a glint in his eyes that let Vivian know he was more than simply flustered. “But my difficulty walking could make it a wash.”
They were laughing, quietly, as they went down the road again.
Chapter 13
Sentinels and knights—all the god-touched, in fact—could see in the dark. Colors were a little dimmer, shapes a trifle less distinct, but night journeys were never a problem, at least not as far as vision went.
Exhaustion was a problem. Cold was a problem. Wet clothing that chafed and never truly dried was a gods-cursed problem. If Olvir had hated Thyran more for keeping him from Vivian’s arms, he doubled that after they’d been walking for a few hours, when the sun had gone down and Olvir was worried that he’d be too sore in some areas to so much as think about enjoying himself with any woman ever again.
Tactically speaking, discomfort was better than lust. He could focus more on staying alert when he really wanted to ignore his body. Being philosophical about that would have taken a far better man than Olvir ever had been.
Whatever part of Letar’s Halls geisbars went to, Olvir hoped it was unpleasant.
The rain itself stopped shortly after nightfall, leaving the forest a dark, dripping mass. Mud squelched below their feet. The footing was not wonderful. Neither was the wind that came up after the rain.Raw weather, people had called it in Olvir’s childhood, the sort that often led to illness.
He and Vivian had donned their cloaks, which helped somewhat. Mostly they kept moving, eating and drinking in shifts while they trudged forward. They fell into silence again as they tried to stay undetected. After a while, Olvir felt as though he’d known nothing but the rhythm of their steps and the dark, wet crowd of trees.
The forest grew sparser as the old road took them uphill. Olvir couldn’t have named the spot where it ended, exactly, but at some point in the night, he realized that they weren’t in it any longer. Trees still stood on either side of the road, but they were dotting a hilly plain, not flanking a path through dense woods.
Enemies would find them easier to spot now. Olvir couldn’t help liking his wider field of vision all the same, not to mention the marked decrease in branches trying to break his nose. Fewer trees also meant fewer leaves to drop rain down his neck when he brushed against their branches.
Ideally, too, they’d left Thyran’s army behind a while ago. Olvir kept one hand near his sword nonetheless and added the loss of his shield to his list of grudges against the geisbar.
The night went on. Eventually, the sky turned from black to coal-gray, then from coal to smoke, with a bit of light breaking through in the east. Then it was day. The path dried out, as did Olvir’s boots and Vivian’s, until their footsteps no longer sounded squashy.
Birds started their chorus. Many were the ones Olvir had known from childhood, but there were other calls among them: a series of four long trills that repeated, a lowerone-two-three-ONErhythm, and a single piercing scream that sounded like some variety of hawk but too wavering to be any of those Olvir had heard.
That was the first sign of life since they’d reached the plains—other than the trees, Olvir supposed, and those seemed like simply taller versions of the tumbled rocks that rose from the earth in spots.
He also guessed that he and Vivian counted as living beings, though that was more knowledge than feeling. Physically, Olvir had walked for longer and put himself through worse, but there was a disconnected sense about the night that he’d never had before, born of rain, silence, and darkness. Even though he could see, he’d noticed the faded colors and the lack of light.
Ghosts came to mind. So did echoes or footprints: tracks of passage, untethered to the thing passing. Olvir thought of the journey’s end, as little as he was able to speculate about that, and felt as if he was leaving the world in addition to the forest.
* * *
You yet live, do you?
It was an hour or two after dawn; Olvir was striding ahead of her with what appeared to be unceasing if solemn vigor. While that notion might have set her mind working in pleasant ways when they’d started walking again, she was just inclined to resent him for it by the time Ulamir spoke. Vivian was inclined to resent everything, in fact, and was continuing to walk mostly out of anger at the earth beneath her feet.
Still, she was glad to hear Ulamir’s mental voice again. He sounded rested, too, which was an asset as well as a source of profound envy.
She sent him her thanks for his assistance.
Performing my appointed task is always an honor. Did the beast die at your hands, did you drive it off, or did the two of you simply escape?
She filled him in as best she could without actually talking, skipping the part where she and Olvir had nearly been carried away by lust. Ulamir had never been unaware of her lovers, but as with most Sentinels and soulswords, actually managing liaisons was always a slightly awkward business. He tactfully vanished to the place where he went to rest as soon as he knew any sort of dalliance was happening. Vivian tried to give him advance warning and did the best she could to keep him unaware of the details.
It more or less worked, like most parts of life.
You were wise to press on,Ulamir said at the end of Vivian’s story.I would advise going until sunset, if you can manage it. Tonight I’ll keep the sole watch.
Vivian hesitated. The soulsword was generally aware of what happened near him, but he saw better through her eyes.
The stone is closer here. Should you cover the ground today that seems likely, by night, it will be closer still. What comes across it will be known to me, and you know I can wake you at need.
