Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

The mage backed up. He looked drained, but she wasn’t willing to bet they could get away, especially tied.

At least they’d kept some semblance of control, made him listen to a little. Small satisfaction, but something. Getting up tied together was harder than she’d thought, and they fell all over each other twice. Lleryn growled at the mage once, and Rhiannon growled at him the second time, and he let them struggle through it. He still looked pretty uncomfortable, maybe because of the reported difficulty with using magic since Vanyel’s death. Not that she was a mage, but there were enough songs about it.

Rethwellan was close. No more than a few minutes’ walk. That was why they’d kept their fire low. She glared at her captor. “Why do you want us?”

“My keep could use a Bard or two.”

“You can’t imprison a Bard!” Lleryn exclaimed.

“I already did.”

Dionne’s head spun. Only this time she was sure it wasn’t just over another bad day. In fact, it hadn’t been that bad—two of the people in the village had needed herbs, and dispensing that kind of help was easy. Mari had stopped trying to sweet-talk, encourage, or force her cooperation. She sat placidly across from Dionne with the firelight brightening her cheeks as she measured herbs into handwoven net tea bags a mother had given her for calming a colicky baby.

They were in a pretty safe rest between two villages, with a pen the horses stamped quietly in, and two other sets of travelers near enough to see each other’s cookfires, if not near enough to hear each other.

All in all, it was a calm evening. But still, the fire spun around her, and she gasped and twitched, and suddenly her balance turned so awkward she leaned and then fell off the sturdy log she was sitting on.

Mari leapt up, looking around for an attacker, the herbs in her lap scattering to the ground. She cursed lightly under her breath on her way to kneel beside Dionne. “What hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” Dionne closed her eyes, searching inside. As a healer, she should know if she’d eaten something poisonous or taken ill. But it didn’t seem like that.

And then she knew.

“Rhiannon!” she murmured. “Rhiannon!” Her heart beat faster, fear pounding through her veins. Her stomach lurched so hard she nearly threw up her dinner. A bruise blossomed on her cheek.

“What’s happening?” Mari demanded.

“I have to go to her!” Now she was half-screaming and half-sobbing. Her vision still seemed wrong, slightly off, but she struggled to push herself up.

Mari extended a hand, helping Dionne to stand up. “Are you sure she’s really in trouble?”

Dionne nodded, gasping and struggling for balance. “I have to ... go.” She started toward their shared traveling gear, grabbing her pack and stuffing clothes in it hurriedly.

“Are you crazy?” Mari asked. “She must be all the way across Valdemar. You need someone to help you!”

“So help me.”

“How?” Mari asked.

“Let me go.”

Mari shook her head, biting her lip and stamping her feet. “I can feel how much you need to.”

Of course she could. She was an Empath. Dionne tried to strengthen her need even more, sharpen it. She reached forward and took Mari’s hands, something she’d been avoiding as much as possible. She searched Mari’s dark eyes. “I have to go.”

Mari grunted. “I’m responsible for you. Gavin told me not to let you come back before time.”

Dionne fought back a sob. “Gavin doesn’t know Rhiannon’s hurt.”

Mari blew out a long breath. “I’ll take you back to the Collegium, and they can decide from there.”

Good enough. Haven was almost on the way. “Can we go now?”

“In the dark?”

“The moon’s full.”

Rhiannon and Lleryn were both allowed to ride, their hands tied to the pommels of their saddles. The horses were tied together, the reins all ending up in the mage’s hands. His horse’s heavy gait and broad, ugly face would have shown him for mixed farm and warhorse immediately had Rhiannon seen him during the day, instead of just his white outline in the smoke from the fire.

Almost as soon as they passed the border, their captor began to look better, the moonlight illuminating penetrating eyes and a strangely smiling face that made Rhiannon shiver. His control over their mounts became more sure, the horses nearly sleepwalkers moving at his command. At one point, he turned to them and said, “I’m really sorry. I don’t mean you any harm, but you belong in my dream.” He looked directly at Rhiannon. “The sad beauty of your song infected me, and I needed to take you. Surely you understand that?”

No. He liked sadness? All while he was wearing that funny grin that disturbed her? Maybe he was a little crazy or a little hurt, but that didn’t mean he should be after innocent Bards. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but instead she looked straight ahead and appeared as unconcerned as possible given the situation.

Just as the first morning sun began to paint the hills with light, they turned up into a narrow, wooded ravine. “I bet this is the way to his keep,” Lleryn said.