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With north found, all else may be guessed at.
The mare hung her own head and shook. I clung to the reins and did likewise, my breath refusing to settle and my eyes watering. My mantle was askew, my skirts bunched, a stray tendril of dark hair fell in my face, and for the first time in a very long while, I had no idea what to do next.
At home there was always another task to accomplish, another petty or large crisis to manage, another trouble to soothe, another lesson to learn. Even traveling with strange Northerners and an Elder for a bare two days had its rhythm, but now the new dance was snatched from underfoot and I was left stumbling as if mead-sick.
I exhaled, hard, and patted Farsight’s lathered neck with numb, gloved fingers. “I do not blame you.” My voice shook, but I put all the calm certainty I could into the words. “Not in the slightest, my fair one. Easy now, let me think.”
I received an ear-flicker for my pains; at least she was listening, and the connection between us firmed. The cold nipped at my cheeks and nose, for my hood had fallen and I dared not free a cramped hand from rein or soothing as I spoke gently to a beast made to endure too much.
“I may call a fire, but there is little fuel I can see. Nevertheless…” I hoped my tone and cadence would calm her further, for all she would not heed the meaning of the words. “I have never seen that manner of creature before. It stank of ill will.”
Whatever it was, ’tis gone now, and night falls. You have only a horse and your mantle, now you must think of what to do.
I could not stay halt and trembling like a hunted rabbit or poor Farsight, who needed a walk to cool her, not to mention other care I could not provide at the moment. I slid from her back in a tangle of skirts andmantle, keeping the reins in case she startled—she would drag me, of course, but that could not be helped—and spent some time at her head, more soft speech and coaxing finally penetrating her exhaustion.
I also had my embroideredseidhr-bag at my hip. Dried herbs, a healer’s knife from south-over-sea, a lodestone, and some other odds and ends… well, others had survived with less. When my pulse and lungs quieted I could use the warming breath, at least for a short while—like any burning, it requires sustenance. I was not hungry yet, but the duration of that mercy might not be long.
Darkness pressed close, ink pouring through night-thickening mist. It was not the weather I had smelled upon leaving Dun Rithell, and I had not heard of this landscape from the few travelers who passed through, wending south to the Barrowhills. This was not normal or canny, and even avolvamay well feel a chill of apprehension when coming across weirding not of her own making.
Seidhris by definition strange, for all we live and work within it.
“Come,” I said finally, when I judged Farsight had regained enough of her breath and wits to be reasonable. “If you will lend me your nose, nervous one, we may yet find a fire tonight.”
The waning moon would not rise for hours. Still,there are many paths to seeing, as Idra often remarked,and the eyes provide only one. Farsight consented to put her head over my shoulder and take a few circling steps to point us in the direction opposite our wild flight, her nostrils flaring, and I could tell from the way the damp skin upon her shoulders twitched that she was upon the cusp of understanding what I wished of her.
“That’s right,” I crooned, encouraging. “You know the way; your nose is finer than mine. We must merely retrace our route, and the smell is fresh now. Just a little walking, beautiful one.”
If I could induce her to follow the scent of our passage, we had a chance of finding the site of the battle, and hence our companions.
I tried not to think about the misshapen things meeting us along the way. Could they smell us in return? What did such creatures eat, how did they live and reproduce? What were they called?
So many questions. Had this been a saga or traveler’s tale I would be breathless with suspense. Curiosity was better than fear, yet I had a surfeit of both at the moment.
Arn would be beside herself. I could only hope her mount had not run, fear-maddened, in a separate direction. I could also hope the misshapen creatures—whatever they were—had all been slain, or taken themselves elsewhere.
The idea that the half-dozen Northerners might be slaughtered and my shieldmaid come to some harm I was not available to mend was bleak, and would not leave me.
Farsight was reluctant, but moving was better than standing in the cold. She plodded with her head at my shoulder, my numb hand grasping the reins and my own steps slow and faltering. When we drifted from the thread of scent spread upon the fog by our wild passage she would slow, not quite balking, and I would bring us back to the invisible line.
Sharing senses with an amicable beast is something many with a touch ofseidhrmay do, and I was glad indeed of such a simple trick that night.
The night crowded us as the fog did, but after a long while thinning vapor-strands streamed across more rocks I did not recognize. I looked up, halting as a faint patch of thinner cloud gleamed overhead. Fitful silver starlight struggled through. A weak breeze was rising—good and ill luck at once, for though bits of unshrouded sky could grant us some light Farsight might have difficulty with a scent blown hither and yon.
I tried to think of a wayfinding song, but I was so cold. My feet were insensate even inside felted overboots, and when I pulled my hood up the tenuous connection between horse andvolvathinned, so I left it down. Every red coral bead braided into my hair was a chip of spreading ice, and I could perform barely enough of the warming breath to keep from deciding to rest against one of the grey, hunched, lichen-cloaked boulders.
If I halted now, I would slip into snowsleep and freeze to death. Farsight would do much better, having the wit to keep moving and perhaps graze, but she was unable to unsaddle herself and I could not inflict a slow, wandering cinchsore death upon her.
Though perhaps the Northerners would find her during daylight? I could not think upon that. Instead, I longed for Arn. We were so rarely apart; though my brother would marry out and Astrid bringa husband into Dun Rithell—possibly even before I could return home—my shieldmaid would never leave me.
The thought of Arneior’s irritation at this turn of events braced me wonderfully. Which was a mercy from some passing divinity or spirit, I suspected, for the breeze intensified into a light wind and yet more starshine glimmered, the fog becoming patchy. Clear skies meant a hard freeze, one I tasted far back upon my palate. Farsight let out a low complaining sound, for she scented it too.
She wished for fodder, for a good rubdown, and for the company of others like her. “I understand,” I whispered. “We came far, nervous one. I do not grudge it; you did well indeed. I should name you Fleetfoot instead.”
A high, chilling howl rose in the distance, bouncing between boulders, distorted by the straggling mist. My breath caught and Farsight stopped, her head rising and her ears pricked. Another wolf-cry answered from a separate quarter, and the horse’s trembling was mine again. Or perhaps I shared my own quivering fear with her, I could not tell.
“Do not worry,” I told the poor horse. “If need be I will light a wolf on fire, and that should dissuade it.”
I did not know if I could call a spark in such tinder, but I would certainly try. There was nothing about to build a campfire with. I could attempt thickening the fog to hide us from anything unfriendly, but suchseidhrwould mar and mask the scent-road leading us back to the others. Strengthening the breeze would do the same; calling rain would simply make snow and render us more miserable even if I had the concentration and will to do so at the moment.
