Dark One Rising(53)

“If Kevaan has taught her well, then yes, I think she would stick to her plan. She would try to outrun them and get to Isamar. If she could reach the Xanthe and get across ahead of them, she would be safe. A wraith will not cross over water. But a wraith is also power driven and does what it’s bidden to do. If he wants to catch her, he will. She won’t be able to outrun it forever.”

“Then you better hurry. Please, save her.”

“She already has quite a head start, but I will do everything in my power to do so.” He got up from the bar and headed toward the door. He turned back to Garreth. “I left my horse at the far end of town. I’ll lose precious time if I go back for him. Do you have one I could borrow? It would do to have one that is fresh anyway.”

“Yes, we have several in the stables.” He turned to Conor. “Go, saddle the warrior horse. There are two bags in there filled with fresh supplies, too. They belong to a patron, but I’ll explain. Go!”

Alek tossed the bag of gold to Garreth, and he caught it. “Give him that. I think that’ll be explanation enough.”

“Thank you.”

“You can thank me when I have Melenthia safely in hand. Send a message with the fastest rider you can find to His Highness at Lachlan Castle. Tell him that I’m on her trail. Tell him that I’ll send word when we reach Drydon Keep. But tell the messenger to be careful. Give it to no one but the Prince, and if he’s caught, tell him to destroy it.”

“It will be done.”

He left Garreth standing at the bar and flew out the door.



***



Melenthia walked for the rest of that afternoon and into the evening. When the first signs of dusk were upon her she was sore and tired. She practically dragged her feet, trying to stay upright, her head throbbing with every step. The bleeding had stopped but she could feel the crustiness of it dried on the rag tied around her head. She had eaten a few forest berries and had stopped several times for a drink in a wayward stream, but she knew she was going to need to stop, and soon. She thought she was on the Isamar side of the Xanthe. Garreth had made arrangements for her to get across the river on the ferry, the fee paid, but she had found her own way across. Certainly not in the way she would have chosen however.

She continued to follow the path she had found, but so far it led nowhere. She had never been to Isamar, from what she could remember, but she knew that there were not many towns there, and the ones they had, were spread out, away from each other, across many leagues of sand. She knew there was a small town, just across the border from Aaralyn, but she had no idea if she was anywhere near it. The forest here was still so dense. The Dark Woods crossed over the border into Isamar, but only for a league or two. After that it was sand as far as the eye could see. No vegetation, just scrub and dust.

As the hour passed she began to smell smoke, but the density of the trees hid her view from it. The darkness was setting in now, and she had only the limited moonlight, the clouds covering most of it, to show her way between the tall trees. The shadows were thick and she jumped at them every now and then before realizing it was only a stump or an odd shaped snag.

She used her nose to guide her, making her way between the trees, the path now all but gone. She started to hear sounds now, the far off nickering of horses and the echo of a fire crackling. She hoped that it wasn’t Fallon’s camp she was walking into but knew she had to take a chance. Her head and body needed attention. She had felt woozy for several hours, knowing that it was from blood loss and lack of food, and knew she had to get help. As she got further into the trees, she could finally see a small light dancing in the distance, the smell of the wood burning stronger. She walked toward it, using it as a guide, and eventually came to a spot where she could see the campsite.

It was small, one bedroll and a small fire burning a few feet from it. She could clearly hear horses somewhere off to her left, but could not see them. She knew it wasn’t Fallon’s camp, for if it was, there would be several tents and the sounds of multiple horses. He never rode anywhere without an armed escort. This could very well be bandits or criminals trying to hide their numbers. She smelled something cooking, and it smelled so good her stomach reeled from hunger at the whiff of it. She looked around but saw no one, so she crept into the camp and went to the pot on the fire. She leaned over and inhaled deeply. It smelled like some kind of stew, maybe rabbit or pheasant, and her mouth started to water. She looked around again to make sure no one was sneaking up behind her. She grabbed the spoon that was resting on the pot, ladled up some food and stuck it in her mouth. She burned her tongue but she didn’t care. It tasted so good she almost started to shovel it in, but knew she had to take it slow, so as not make herself sick.