Masques (Sianim #1)(38)

The cold must have had a greater effect on their speed than she thought it would, because - much to her surprise - Aralorn made it to the river while the Uriah were still sluggish. Sheen protested the cold water with a grunt when he hit, but struck out strongly for the other side. Aralorn took a good grip on Sheen's mane and lay flat on the fast-running surface, letting the water take most of her weight.

The river was deep and swift, but narrow. The horse towed Aralorn to the far bank without mishap. The current had swept them far enough downstream that the Uriah were no longer in sight, but she thought that she could hear them above the rush of the water. When she turned back to mount again, she noticed that the arm she'd severed from the Uriah still held fast to her stirrup.

There was a story about a man who kept a finger from a Uriah's hand for a trophy of war. Ten years later the Uriah who owned the finger showed up on the man's doorstep, Aralorn didn't believe that story, not really; she just wasn't enthusiastic about riding around with a hand attached to her saddle.

Aralorn pried at it with grim haste. The thing was strangely stubborn, so she finally used an arrow as a lever to pull it away. As she worked she noticed that it wore a ring of heavy gold - stolen from some poor victim, she supposed. Ren would be fascinated - Uriah were not generally looters; their primary interest was food.

She threw the arm and its ring in the river and watched in some satisfaction as it disappeared in the depths. She reloaded the crossbow from habit; it obviously wasn't much good against Uriah. Mounting Sheen, she headed in the general direction of camp, hoping that there would he a bridge over the river between here and camp.

The only thing that the Uriah could be after this far north was Myr - assuming that Wolf was correct in labeling them servants of the ae'Magi. They had obviously been caught by the storm and incapacitated by the sudden cold. If the storm hadn't stopped them, they would have reached the camp early in the morning.

Now, she had a chance to warn Myr.

Shaking with cold, she urged the stallion to a trot that he could maintain until they made it back to camp. As they went, she sawed at the girth and dumped the saddle and bags to the ground to reduce the weight, keeping her seat somehow while they fell. She retained her grip on the loaded crossbow.

The river was between the Uriah and Aralorn, but it stood between her and the camp as well. She rode as far as she could, looking for a bridge, but there was none. The only choice was to swim again. When they came out of the water the second time, Aralorn was blue with cold and Sheen was stumbling heavily. Warming was one of the easier magics that she knew, but it took her three times to get it right.

She rode right into the camp, scattering people as she went. She stopped finally in front of Myr's tent. Drawn by the sound of horse hooves, Myr ducked outside just as Aralorn slipped off the stallion's back.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in her appearance.

"Uriah ... about a hundred of them. They're coming." Aralorn panted heavily, her voice hoarse with what was turning into the grandfather of all colds. "I think that the caves will be safer. Leave the tents behind, but take all the food, blankets and weapons that you can."

He was acting before she finished speaking. The children, under the leadership of Stanis, were sent ahead with such things as they could carry. Myr had the majority of the camp packed and on the trail to the caves before anyone had time to panic.

Aralorn and Myr brought up the rear of the procession. Aralorn, listening for the Uriah behind them, chafed at the slow pace they were forced to take because most people were on foot - but then again, even a dead run would have been too slow. She walked beside her exhausted horse and hoped that Sheen wasn't so tired that he wouldn't give warning if the Uriah got too close.

By the time they arrived at the caves, Aralorn found herself mildly surprised that they had beaten the Uriah there. Myr put her in charge of organizing supplies while he worked on sorting out living quarters.

When he had a chance, Myr sought Aralorn out. "This is only going to delay them, you know that. I've been told they can track a man as well as a hunting dog." Myr spoke in a soft voice designed not to carry to anyone but Aralorn. "I don't have much experience with Uriah. All that I know is that they are very hard to kill and are almost as immune to magic as I am. Is there some sort of defense that we can mount?"

Aralorn nodded. "They don't like fire, so make sure that there are torches ready. This lot" - she swung a hand in the general direction of others in the cavern - "will fight better with torches than swords."

Myr gave her a tired smile. "And no worries about how to light the torches either, with this assortment of amateur magic-users. I think that the only one who can't light a torch with magic is me. Haris!" He caught the attention of the smith who was organizing the storage of supplies. "I want a bonfire laid in the entrance and someone who can light it from a distance stationed to watch for the Uriah."

Haris nodded, and Myr returned his attention to Aralorn. "There are three or four here who should be able to light the fire from a good distance. I'll station them in relays."

Aralorn shivered in her still-damp clothes. "I don't know if they'll come inside the caves. There is some kind of warding near the entrance; you can see the markings if you want to look. Wolf must have set them. I suspect that the warding was the reason that Edom wouldn't enter the caves. Do you remember?"