7
Dally scurried back to her shed and unsealed the satchel. She forced herself to move faster than she would have liked, for everything she saw spoke of new beginnings. The clothes were secondhand, and the alterations were hasty and in places incomplete. The leggings stretched somewhat, which was good, because they were too tight. They were colored a grey several shades darker than the mages’ robes. Thin stripes of black leather ran down the outside of both legs. A singlet was worn on top, a much paler grey with a hint of blue, like a cloud before sunrise. Over this went a black leather vest with six ties and a seal embroidered over her rapidly pounding heart. Dally cinched the vest, then slipped into boots that ran almost to her knees.
She wished she owned a mirror.
When she walked back around the house, Krim offered her open-mouthed astonishment.
Edlyn said approvingly, “Now you look the part.”
“All that’s missing is your blade,” Alembord said.
Norvin took that as his cue. “I have one she can—”
“That is kind of you, Mayor. But there is no need.” Alembord handed Dally an embossed belt with scabbard and slender rapier. “Meda asked me to give you this. She says to tell you she trained with this blade, and she hopes it serves you well.”
Edlyn granted her only a moment to regain control, then said, “Summon your friends, my dear. There is not a moment to lose.”
Dally left Honor atop as fine a horse as she had ever seen. On one side rode the captain of Shona’s palace guard. One wolfhound trotted ahead of them, another just beyond Alembord’s mount. The other six made a silver-backed line behind the last troop. On Dally’s other side rode the Mistress of the Three Valleys Long Hall. The entire village came out to watch the procession. As they passed the girls who had taken such pleasure in tormenting her, Dally released a long sigh.
Alembord patted his horse’s flank and asked, “Can you bond with these animals as well?”
“Not in the same way as the dogs.” Dally stroked the horse’s mane. “I can make contact. In a small way. Sort of like saying hello.”
“Do they respond?”
“Not like my wolfhounds, no. Impressions now and then.” Dally straightened in the saddle. “This one knows I have only ridden a few times and promises to be gentle with me.”
The main trail followed the river at the valley’s heart. A narrower route ran a dozen or so paces in from the encroaching forest. Nowadays this was referred to as the guard’s path. Every season the forest moved that much closer, tightening its grip. All the former trails leading into the woods were lost now, devoured by the thornbushes that formed an impenetrable wall.
Mistress Edlyn asked, “Do you know what your real name is, child?”
“My . . . I’ve been called Dally all my life long.”
Edlyn shook her head. “I suspect your full name might well be Dahlrin.”
There was a spark of memory, sharp and swift as lightning. Dally recalled her father’s smiling face as he leaned over her bed and whispered the name as he lifted her to his shoulder. Then again as her little hand pulled at his whiskers. Dahlrin.
Edlyn found something in her silence that caused her to smile. “Dahlrin is not a name at all. It is an ancient title, one granted to senior wizards in the time of our war against the Milantians. It means star-fire, and signifies one whose force defies the normal standards of magery.”
Dally had no idea what to say to that.
Edlyn nodded as though Dally’s silence was the correct response. “Do you know your family’s heritage?”
“My mam and pa were valley born and bred, Mistress. We’re coming up on the boundaries of our fields.” Dally pointed to a low rise on the meadow’s other side. The blackened ruins were almost lost to weeds. “That’s where our house stood.”
Edlyn peered at the vanishing ruins, her smile gone now. As they rode on, she said, “Perhaps we should leave the mystery over your naming for another, safer time.”
The watchers’ trail shifted close enough to the forest barrier for Dally to see the individual thorns, some of them long as her forearm. It was the nearest she had come since the fire. She felt her fear surge with her rage at the thought of what might be lurking unseen beyond the green wall.
They approached a gently sloping rise, where soldiers awaited them. A concave slope stretched out on the hill’s other side, where the main troop was stationed. They were split into nine squads of nine, each with a fighter dressed the same as Dally at their center. They seemed to Dally a small and insignificant force against the forest’s silent might. A muscle beneath her rib cage began to quiver. She pressed a fist to her gut, willing it to stop. But the tremors continued to shake her middle.
She asked, “Mistress, how did you and your mages travel through the barrier?”
“There are certain questions which must wait for another time. I will answer you, but not just now.” The response carried an easy assurance, as though they strolled through a flower-strewn garden. Edlyn pointed at the wolfhounds stretched out to either side of their company. “It would be good if you could select one of these to be your companion. Once this is over and we return to our temporary keep, all the other wolfhounds will need to be housed in the camp’s main kennels.”
Alembord asked, “Will they mind being moved and then separated from you?”
“I don’t know.”
Edlyn asked, “Do you have a favorite?”
“These two,” Dally replied, and pointed to the dogs that trotted just ahead. “The male is Nabu. He spoke to me in a dream as we ran together. It was the only time it ever happened.”
Edlyn’s eyes widened. “Another astonishment. Child, Nabu was the name of the lone Elven ruler who survived the Milantian wars. He founded the secret kingdom that shelters them still today. Nabu the Great.”
Alembord asked, “Will the Elves mind a wolfhound taking his name?”
“It is possible.” She explained to Dally, “When a ruler dies, the name is buried with them, never to be used again.”
Alembord said, “And the other wolfhound you’ve named?”
“The female is Dama,” she replied. “She’s meant for Hyam. If he’ll have her.”
Everyone within hearing range wore a shocked expression. Finally Alembord asked, “Another dream?”
“In a way, I suppose. It came to me as I returned from the candle.”
Alembord asked, “Candle?”
“That too must wait,” Edlyn said. “Go on, my dear.”
“I sensed that Hyam is wounded. And very lonely.” Dally felt foolish sharing such impressions with this company. She finished, “He needs a friend.”
Edlyn merely replied, “You know what that’s like, don’t you, needing a friend.”
Dally did not know how to respond.
Alembord asked, “You don’t mind losing one of your dogs?”
“She would be losing nothing,” Edlyn replied. She smiled at Dally. “You have a good heart, young lady. It will take you far.”