Page 158 of Silverbow
“Is not necessary. We know the way to Drozia.” The dwarf looked uncomfortable. “I do not wish to do you any dishonor, Master Graniteforge, but we need to see a gifted healer as soon as possible.”
“Of course, Your Grace, my lady,” the man conceded. “I trust you’ll send word if you need anything else before dawn?”
Oryn nodded again and the man departed, drawing the innkeeper with him. Liam gazed at the silver haired demi-elf again and wondered how he’d never considered Oryn bloody Brydove was something more than just a gods damned demi-elf. It was written all over him, from the proud lift of his chin to the way the others bent to him. Andlight, no man had a right to be so gods damned good looking.
Fitting, he supposed. Still, bitter jealousy coursed through Liam’s veins as he watched Oryn help Enya from her chair, even if she gave him a look that seemed to crackle. Aiden chuckled beside him as if he sensed the direction of Liam’s thoughts.
***
The boyish demi-elf whistled merrily as they readied the horses at dawn. “Finally, someone to help with the bags. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been schlepping saddlebags?”
Liam eyed the man warily. He supposed he didn’t. The mountain of supplies seemed to have grown overnight. Foodstuffs and a pile of heavy fur-lined cloaks had joined the heap. “How old are you anyway?”
Aiden flashed him a grin. “It’s rude to ask an immortal their age, you know.”
“Sorry,” Liam mumbled.
“One hundred and seventy-three, give or take a few years,” Aiden answered. The hoof pick in Liam’s hand clattered to the stone floor as the demi-elf shrugged. “You lose track after a while.”
“And…the others?”
“Ancient,“ Aiden huffed. “Well, Bade is anyway. Oryn only has fifty years on me, but he bloody acts like he’s Mosphaera’s personal gift to Elaria.”
Only fifty years.Liam was still shaking his head as they left Wayforge and started up a steep mountain trail. It was narrow enough that they rode in single file, and he kept shooting looks back to where Enya grimaced in her saddle. She’d washed the brown dye from her hair in the inn, the usual copper gleaming in the sun that filtered through the trees, but she still looked a bit gray. The Prince of Eastwood rode behind her, eyes boring into her back.
“I’m fine,” she snapped at no one in particular as Arawelo stumbled over a loose rock that made her hiss through her teeth.
She took particular offense when they called an early stop, but Colm gently assured her it was for the horses. Even fresh from a week of sailing, all but Arawelo and Kiawa were flagging by the time they emerged in a little glen. She glared down at the five of them who dismounted and stretched. Her arm, bound as it was, made for awkward riding, but Oryn strode over, his black in tow, and patted something solid and unseen.
“There’s a step here,” he said, his hand tapping against the surface.
Enya glared at him as she swung her leg over Arawelo’s neck and gingerly stepped onto nothing but air. Liam shook his head to clear it. His tongue seemed to fuse to the roof of his mouth as he watched Enya hover and lower gently to the forest floor.Mad. Now I’m going mad.
Still stunned, Liam followed Colm to a stream, letting Pips drink beside Lanta. The demi-elf left her on a loose rein and bent over the ferns, whispering something Liam couldn’t hear. He watched him from the corner of his eye. Colm chuckled and nodded, as if something were talking back.
“Who are you talking to?” Liam asked.
“The gnomes, of course,” Colm answered.
Barking mad.
“The what?”
“Gnomes, they’re little-”
“I know what a gnome is, or rather, what the stories say they are.”
Colm chuckled.
Liam shifted uncomfortably on his feet, peering into the fauna. “What are you saying?”
“I asked them to send a message for me.”
It was really too bad the man was a raving lunatic. Liam had rather liked Colm.
“What kind of message?”
“The same that went with the hawks. Just in case.”
