Page 73 of In Darkness Forged
“You saved me,” she said simply. “And you sacrificed yourself in ways no one else even considered. Whether you knew it or not, that kind of sacrifice is really just a form of love, and”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“I think I love you too. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you in return.”
Her lips trembled, and her eyes pressed shut to stop the tears.
“I hope,” she whispered, “that you are finally at peace.”
And then she walked away.
* * *
At first, Aislin followed the faint hint of a breeze, placing one foot in front of the other in a mindless trudge out of the depths and into the first tantalizing glimmers of light. When it grew bright enough, she tucked the vial back into her pack and kept on, eyes glazed with weariness, her entire body throbbing with pain.
When she finally took those last few steps out of the cave, she almost did not believe it.
The outside world seemed bizarrely unchanged. Only a few paces beyond the eternal night of the Darkspring, she stumbled into an unremarkable forest clearing just as the pink and purple light of sunset bathed the treetops. It was serene… peaceful even, and suddenly Aislin could go no further.
She dropped her pack, fell to the ground, and stared up at the sky, unable to even move as night fell and the stars appeared. Tears leaked unheeded from the corners of her eyes, trailing down her neck to dampen her hair and soak into the dirt beneath her.
She had to move—she knew that. Needed to eat and drink and find shelter for the night. But every step away from where she’d left Tal still felt like a betrayal.
Moving as if in a dreamlike stupor, she pushed up on her elbows and found the food in the pack, still wrapped in oilskin, still as unappetizing as ever. She tried to eat it, but could swallow no more than a few bites. A sip from what was left in the waterskin dampened her parched throat, but could not ease the pain from all the tears she’d shed.
So she lay back again and stared at the stars, while sleep threatened to drag her into oblivion.
If she slept, she would be vulnerable to any creature who wandered by, but she was simply too tired…
* * *
Aislin was awakened abruptly by the strangely familiar feeling of having her face washed by a compost heap.
A hot, wet tongue swiped across her cheek, followed by a plaintive whine, and she opened her eyes to the soft glow of moonlight and the huge, dark shape of Cuan lying beside her.
How he’d found her, she could not even begin to guess, but Aislin rolled over, sat up, and threw herself at his shaggy neck, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to his fur as if he could somehow block out the memories of the past few days.
He whined again, clearly aware that something was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his fur. “I’m so sorry. I lost him. He isn’t coming back, and it’s my fault.”
She half expected the dreadwolf to snarl and pull away, but he had an uncomplicated heart and seemed to sense her distress. Another whine, and then he rested his chin on her shoulder, and for a moment, they simply comforted one another.
But then the wolf did pull back with a snarl, though it was not directed at her. Instead, he rose to his feet and placed his furry bulk between Aislin and the forest, hackles raised and eyes glowing dimly in the moonlight.
“I must say,” a familiar voice drawled out of the darkness, “I’m quite surprised to find you still alive.”
Aislin stiffened as the shadows beneath the trees began to stir, eventually resolving into the familiar form of… Rhone.
He sauntered towards her, pausing a half dozen strides away and regarding her out of one curious, dimly luminescent green eye. A slight smirk tugged at his mouth, and while he appeared relaxed, Aislin was not fooled by his casual stance.
“What do you want?” she growled, and was shocked by the harsh rasp of her voice. She sounded like an old woman who hadn’t spoken in twenty years.
Rhone shrugged. “Merely to know how a fragile creature like you survived when my companions and I were forced to retreat. The aranthas’ numbers proved too great for our abilities, so I cannot help but wonder what miracle enabled you to escape unscathed.”
Aislin’s eyes closed in fresh grief. “There is no miracle,” she said flatly. “My companion sacrificed himself so that I could escape.”
“Then you failed in your errand?” Rhone asked, and suddenly Aislin became aware of the calculating gleam in his eye. “Or did you succeed, and that is why your companionsacrificedhimself?”
“Whether we did or not,” she returned icily, “what is that to you? Did you not say that whoever succeeded would have fairly earned their victory?”
Rhone’s hand lifted to rest casually on the hilt of his blade. “Perhaps I did,” he said. “But perhaps I also find your survival to be a curious anomaly. Your protector was the strongest opponent I have ever faced, and I cannot quite imagine how he is dead and you… are not.”