But one also could not dwell overlong in pity, or self-doubt. That way lay the path to a shortened life. And Gard did not want to see Ehmish end up as he had seen the death of Alaric Chieftain’s-Son. That was something he could do without.
Stopping him with a light tug, he turned to face him squarely. “What curdles your blood more, Ehmish? That you sickened on that spider’s scent? Or that you could not save yourself and keep an eye on Kern?”
“Neither! It sickens me that I could have stopped it all from happening and did not.” And in a short rush of words, he explained to Gard how he had scented out the trap before it had been sprung. How it might have all turned out differently.
“Heartbeats, Ehmish. The decision of an instant.” He waved it aside rudely. “By your reason, I should nay deserve to live for being so foolish as to be blinded by the sorcerer’s wrath above Conarch. I had seen it happen to others. I should have prevented that!” It surprised Gard how hot and how quick the molten words poured out of him. Wasn’t that the very reason Sláine Longtooth had abandoned him after all?
“That’s nay the same thing,” Ehmish said, shuffling from one foot to the other. The image of a boy being scolded.
“Nay! It’s not. I was Cruaidh’s protector. Twelve summers I fought under the fox’s tail. You became a man just this winter. And if I can go on after what I have lost, you can stop whining like a spoiled pup who just got his ears nipped.” He saw Ehmish bridle at that, hackles up and ready to bounce back at him. Gard’s hands tightened into sledgehammer fists. “Nay another word, boy, or I’ll lay you back out across this trail.”
For a moment, Gard thought the young man might do it. He saw Ehmish’s fists tighten up, and read the muscles bunching in his arms, his shoulders. And that cold, blue-steel gaze that could have cut stone. He nearly clapped the lad on the shoulder, impressed. But he let Ehmish square off and hold on to his anger instead. Knowing it would serve him better for the moment.
“I’ll nay bother you with my whining, Gard Foehammer.” And he stalked aside, fuming, casting back dark looks that nearly had the other man grinning again.
Nearly.
“Good fer you.”
Hydallan stood nearby, kicking over some loose rocks that had fallen down the cliff face and ended up on the trail and wringing his peaked, rabbit fur hat in gnarled, bony hands. He’d pitched his voice quiet enough to carry no farther than Gard’s ears. But the old man did not bother to hide his nod of approval. “That boy needs you,” he said in the same low voice.
Gard stepped in closer. Only Brig Tall-Wood and Nahud’r stood nearby, the two of them talking quietly and gesturing up the trail, lost in their own discussion, but still Gard wanted no one else to overhear.
“That boy needs Kern Wolf-Eye,” he said. That much should have been obvious to anyone who had seen the way Ehmish usually hung on Kern’s every word.
“And you, Gard? What do you need?”
For a man who had just lost his son to the unknown, Hydallan was too damn interested in others. Then again, with forty summers on him at least, no doubt he had learned to deal with hardship and endure, for the good of the clan.
“Something of interest in those rocks?” Gard asked, changing the conversation. “You’ve been kicking them over for some time I’ve seen.”
“Edges are too sharp,” he said. “At least, that’s what I’ve been a-saying. Think I’ve got Brig and Nahud’r convinced. The only way it makes sense.”
“Only way what makes sense?”
Hydallan kicked the rock fragments hard, scattering them along the trail. His leathery face peeked up at Gard, gray eyes a hard, hawk’s brightness. Wispy gray hair stuck out at odd directions, giving him a slightly wild appearance.
“Daol was nay a fool, even if running into that web the way he did makes me think twice at times. But one o’ them spiders does not come up and take him from behind without a yell or a struggle. An’ Kern? If Crom blessed anyone with a special gift for survival, it’s him.”
Gard couldn’t gainsay the old man on that one. But still he didn’t see. “So, what does that make you wonder about those rocks? About Kern and Daol?”
Hydallan looked up the near-vertical facing. Five times the height of a man.
“I’m a-wondering how Clan Galla managed to haul them up that there face.”
19
RUNNING ACROSS BROKEN ground with hands tied behind one’s back took a lot out of a man, Kern discovered. His sense of balance constantly thrown off. His legs burning with fatigue as they strained to compensate, holding down in a deeper crouch, lengthening his strides and stretching every jump a little farther.