Lost in the Light Ch. 07

Then there was Lysia. Riyarra could leave now and make a straight line for the Eltharians, hopefully avoiding any of her new allies on the way. But Lysia would have to pay the price for her absence. Taking the bookkeeper with her would slow her down considerably and make them both easy targets for the Zecarins. She couldn't do that to her. Logic told her to go for it, but she was having enough trouble sleeping at night as it was, she wasn't going to continue down that dark path anymore.

Riyarra closed her eyes and let her decision settle into her soul. She wasn't going to abandon Lysia. Somehow she was going to have to come up with a reason that would throw the Zecarins off her trail. Her loyalties would need to become fluid once more.

The answers wouldn't come right away. She needed to return to the camp and check on Lysia. Hopefully by then she could come up with a reason to convince The Cat to let her go for four or five days. Cautiously she descended her tree. The forest floor had never been as welcoming as that moment. There was finally something she could do besides simply survive. The flutter in her stomach turned to excitement and anticipation; this was her chance to find out what had happened since her captivity.

The walk back was quiet and uneventful. Her trainees seemed to have given up trying to find her, and when she made it back they were all lounging around smoking some rolled up dried leaves. They paid her no notice, and she couldn't have counted herself luckier – that particular leaf would addle their brains. She paused before the shirtless one that seemed half decent at tracking, who was sharpening his spear head.

"Is The Cat out?" she asked casually.

"Yep, Wart-ass has the command." He mumbled with a smirk. Riyarra scowled, but perhaps this was for the better. She had never learned his true name, but the loud-mouthed Zecarin rider owned more wart-based nicknames than she thought possible.

"Got it." She muttered and wandered the camp until she found him tending to his mount. The young strider lizard was feasting on meat scraps while its master wiped it down with a wet cloth. She stopped short of him and waited. She wasn't sure how to address him; they had never gotten along. His massively muscled, and very battle scarred back always made her uneasy – she wouldn't want to meet him in battle.

"Yes, Elth?" he said calmly. It seemed he would be receptive to this; his mood was always hard for her to determine.

"My mission compels me to leave your hospitality," She started. Her long walk had resulted in honesty being the best course of action – flavored with a little fabrication based on her cover story.

"Yes, this monastery you spoke of." He repeated calmly. Riyarra had the sneaking suspicion that it was The Cat that made him so irritable. His calm tone of voice led Riyarra to believe that this could actually be settled peacefully. She didn't continue, her words needed to be chosen carefully, but it wasn't easy for them to come. "How far away is it?"

"Two days." She replied.

"Armed patrols?"

"None that I could see," Riyarra answered, letting her brisk demeanor melt a little. If Wart-Ass was going to be civil, she would be too. 'Sure, let them think it's a patch of humans'. She thought with a smirk to herself.

"Awhile back, we spoke of loyalty." He said. "The Cat will fail by her actions, and hers alone. But that will be a long time in coming. She doesn't take risks. The routes we have been running are well within our borders. This job is...easy."

"I see."

"No you don't," he growled. "Threats to our sovereignty should be squashed. These humans are too close to our borders and should be wiped out like troublesome insects.

"Now, I see more clearly." She offered.

"Do you? Can you Elth?" He grumbled. An uncomfortably awkward silence came between them, as it often did when her attempts to disarm him with her charm were quickly and immediately shot down.

"Enough to be mindful of what my limits are," She said

"You are learning," he scoffed. "But unwelcome just the same. I don't want you around here." Riyarra stared at the tense muscles on his back, she could resolve all her problems if she chose the next few words correctly.

"North of here, three days by foot, is a mountain range. I saw a meeting on the hillside between some humans, and what I suspect were Eltharian scouts. Their camouflage cloaks hid their features, but it was the same type I am familiar with." The Zecarin rider stopped grooming his mount and turned his head, his one good eye scrutinized her. "I want nothing to do with the Eltharians, just the humans. But I thought you might find that information useful. What you do with it is your own choice." He turned around and crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down with that piercing eye. Riyarra didn't budge under his scrutiny. The silent air between them grew heavy.

"You are no blood-traitor." He summed up after a long thought. "So you are not our ally. For whatever reason your people hunt you, pray they find you before we do. Leave. Now, and take your slave with you."

Riyarra bowed her head respectfully and broke their eye contact. With a grunt he picked up his rag, soaked it again in the bucket by his feet, and resumed wiping the dry skin of his mount. Riyarra left quickly. She couldn't have asked for a more fortuitous exchange. The more she played over all the conversations she had had with this group, the more it fell on The Cat's shoulders – she had given her permission to go as she pleased. Wart-Ass was simply following orders. A derisive scoff escaped from her brooding thoughts as she returned to her tent with a scowl – Wart-Ass was right, The Cat was a failure away from death.

The flap to their tent was easily pushed away, and inside she found Lysia still huddled in her bedroll. The girl looked up with a blank expression to see who it was and when she realized it was Riyarra she sat up respectfully. Her queen placed a quieting finger to her lips and made hand signals to the girl, hoping she had at least been trained in them by the Yvarna captain.

Pack. Pulling Camp. Now.

The girl nodded, and to Riyarra's relief started pulling their things together. She did so with surprising efficiency and silence. It gave Riyarra some much needed hope about the girl's chances. While Lysia packed, Riyarra found her boots and leather vest and started to suit up her own gear. The fabric strained to retain her womanly proportions; it gave her a twinge of guilt to remember this outfit had not been made for her, but the Eltharian girl Mule had killed. Lysia had noticed her change in demeanor and had paused to look up for instruction. Riyarra was lost in thought trying to remember the girl's name – the one she had impersonated among the Yvarna.

"Eymara..." Lysia responded to what she thought was her Queen's distress. To her relief, Riyarra smiled warmly and nodded.

"For Eymara," Riyarra whispered solemnly, "and for Gayne." Lysia's ears perked up at that name, but decided to ask later as she resumed stuffing the last little bits into her backpack. Hunched over, she waited patiently until her Queen was ready to go.

Fearlessly Riyarra tossed the tent flap open and strode out into the camp. A few half-baked Zecarins looked up at the flurry of motion but stared blankly – one even snickered. But it was when Lysia emerged with a pack full of gear that something didn't seem right.

"Going for a walk," Riyarra announced. "Who wants to keep our tent warm till we get back?" The shirtless, spear-sharpening tracker stood up and looked down the length of his weapon. The spearhead was cut down the middle, giving it two pronged capabilities to catch things. The way he was eyeing its edge made Lysia cower behind her Queen.

"Seems like a long walk," He observed with an arched eyebrow. His shaved head and smooth features were not as intimidating as Wart-Ass, but his attitude made it appear that he knew which end of that spear did the business.

"Crossing the border to raid a human town for sport and information," she flashed him a wicked smile. "I'd invite you along, but there are Eltharians up on the hill near it. Wart-Ass may want you to give them a little surprise midnight visit."

"Is that why you were up in the tree all morning?" He smiled sweetly and leaned his weapon back over his shoulder. "I had thought you had fallen asleep, but when you came back down you seemed.... bothered."

"I was," Riyarra said with a scowl, not letting his revelation unnerve her. "Humans and Eltharians shouldn't be doing business together this close to Zecarin borders."

"Then you wouldn't mind a little Zek help, I think I'll tag along." He smirked at her. Riyarra tossed her hair back with a hand and sized him up as if she was considering it. In truth, her mind was scrambling for a more convincing excuse to keep him from following. She could dispatch him easily, and the rest of the lounging soldiers, but it was Wart-Ass she didn't want to contend with and the returning patrols that would be after them. It seemed they weren't getting out of here so easily. Her hand twitched nervously but didn't move for her blade. He saw it.

"No you aren't," Came Wart-Ass's authoritative voice. "The pale bitches are leaving for good and that's that. If we see them again, they're dead first and fucked second."

"HoooPA!" came a half-hearted cry from one of the stoned soldiers. The spear-wielder grumbled and threw his weapon over both shoulders before ducking into their now empty tent to fume in silence.

Riyarra nodded to Lysia and the two of them set out without further incident. Now, all they had to do was avoid any returning patrols. It was after they were a long way out of earshot that Lysia finally asked what was itching at her.

"Did you know Gayne?" she said.

"Yes, I grew up with him." Riyarra answered plainly. She didn't want to speak of it, but Lysia's curiosity was innocent enough. However, the soldier in her returned and she gave Lysia the hand signal for silence. They didn't want to be surprised again by Zecarin scouts.

The remaining daylight was spent in a quiet northbound trek. Lysia seemed to be enjoying the activity; she was quickly responsive to Riyarra's silent instructions and kept pace despite not having formal military conditioning. Even when the sun had set and Riyarra continued to press on, Lysia didn't complain even with the heavy pack on her shoulders. She did need to stop frequently to readjust the straps, and once to retie her hair that had pulled free and was bothering her face. Her Queen didn't seem to mind, and even smiled encouragingly when Lysia needed to take a break. Something good had happened that had put Riyarra into better spirits and it was catching.

They came to a wide river – a tributary of the Lidark. Its slow moving waters were deep enough to take small barges and crafts, but otherwise couldn't be crossed easily. Riyarra stopped and looked up and downstream, she stood there lost in thought as Lysia caught her breath.

"Do you need help with that?" Riyarra offered her hand to take Lysia's pack.

"N-no." the girls smiled appreciatively, and hefted it securely onto her shoulders.

"I can cross here, but you couldn't." Riyarra started to explain her thoughts out loud. "We shouldn't swim it in the dark, but..."

"I can swim it, and we shouldn't lose time with the Zecarins behind us." Lysia cut in. "but my pack shouldn't get wet, the blankets and bandages aren't any use wet."

"Right, we'll camp once we cross." Riyarra nodded and wadded right into the water. "Let's use that log to float the pack over." She uprooted a half-buried log at the riverbank and pulled it out into the water. Lysia unshouldered her pack and tied it across the top of the driftwood. Together they ferried it across as they swam, and made it to the opposite bank easily.

Lysia's cheeks had taken on a deep flush from the exertion, but aside from being soaked she was fit and ready to continue. She untied her sack from the log and pulled it to dry land to set it down – it made it with little dampness. Riyarra smoothed her water-heavy hair back over her head to keep it from dripping in her face, and started to search around.

"Over here," Riyarra pointed to a huge fallen tree and the massive root ball that pulled up a wall of dirt. It made for perfect cover from eyes back across the river. Lysia admired the redwood as she dragged her pack over. She sat it down under the trunk and checked the contents for dampness. Riyarra set about collecting fallen branches and set them in a pile away from the tree in the river rocks. With an effortless use of magic the logs sparked ablaze and cast a warm glow over the two soaked Eltharians. Satisfied with her campfire, she crouched down in front of it to dry out and warm up.

"Umm, your grace?" Lysia said as she came to sit down next to her. "We need to wash these properly." She pulled her own shirt off over her head and her heavy chest spilled free. Taking care, she laid it out next to the fire on the sandy ground while she unlaced her small boots. The cool night air mixed with the water on her skin caused a wave of goose bumps and she shivered. Undeterred, she yanked her soggy leather boots off with a grunt and fell backwards. Riyarra caught her before she hit the ground and chuckled. Despite the request, Riyarra stayed in her clothes and returned to starring blankly at the fire. Its orange light reflected an eerie glow in those emerald eyes as her thoughts drifted to the days events.

"Riyarra," Lysia repeated in a sterner tone of voice. She stood looming over Riyarra with her hands on her naked hips. It snapped her queen out of her thoughts and she looked up with a "hmm?"

"Out of those clothes," Lysia instructed. "First, you've been wearing them for days on end now. Secondly, they stink of Zecarin. Thirdly, getting them wet made the first and second reasons all that much worse." Riyarra looked down at her vest and shirt. She pulled it up to her nose and gave it a sniff.

She stunk.

The vest came off in a flash, and the shirt followed button by button. The cold air gave her a chill, so she covered her chest with her arms to hold in the body heat. Lysia was down at her queen's boots unlacing them as Riyarra was too distracted to continue. She pulled them off, one after the other, and then went about unfastening Riyarra's leather pants. They didn't come off without a fight, as the water made them stick to her skin. Naked, wet, and cold, Riyarra huddled over the fire to warm herself.

"The blanket is in the pack, I'll be back once I get these scrubbed." Lysia said and placed a hand on Riyarra's shoulder. Her queen's sudden distracted nature was giving her pause, but she knew it wasn't her place to question. Riyarra patted her hand and went back to enjoying the fire. Lysia gathered up their clothes and headed to the river.

The charm of the dancing flames finally broke and Riyarra stirred. She grabbed her hair and squeezed the water out into a puddle on the ground. With a flip of her head, the wet mass flung back over her shoulder. She rose and went to the sack and dug out the rolled up blanket. It smelled of spun cotton, and finally her senses returned to the present and she could tell how badly she reeked. But there were other scents as well on the air, natural ones – animals were nearby. Tossing the blanket to the ground she made for the river. There she found Lysia scrubbing their clothes on river rocks.

"You're right, I need to wash." She grumbled and dove into the river for a night swim. Lysia watched her blonde head resurface here and there as a pale spot amid the black surface while she herself rinsed and scrubbed in the water. Satisfied their clothes were mostly stench free, she tucked them under both arms and walked back up riverbank to their hidden camp. Had she Riyarra's training, she would have noticed the set of pale yellow eyes watching her and the black animal form they were attached to silhouetted against the crescent moon above.

Taking care to spread them out evenly, she set their clothes out to dry. When she found their blanket still rolled up she huffed and sat down to undo its binding. The string came free and she fluffed it out once before slinging it around herself as she sat down. Like a living mound of linen she scooted closer to the fire until it baked her and the blanket nicely. A contented sigh came from the depths of the pile of cotton that completely covered the elf girl inside. She wasn't alone for long as Riyarra soon joined her by the fire. Invigorated by the brisk swim, the warrior woman was content to sit out bare skinned in the night air.

"I take it we only have one of those." She smiled at the huddled girl underneath the blanket.

"Yes. You lose." Came Lysia's reply from inside. Riyarra let out a joyous laugh. It was something Lysia hadn't heard before and it warmed her inside more than the blanket or fire could. She poked her head out and smiled mischievously.

"If you ask nicely, I'll share."

"Ah, ransom demands. That's unusually mercenary of you." Riyarra smiled back while she combed out her wet hair with her fingers.

"You owe me after that mess." Lysia grumbled. Riyarra paused and nodded sincerely.

"You're right, I do. That was terrible situation." She combed her hair over her face as she worked some of the tangles out. It was also to hide the scowl of anger so Lysia wouldn't think it was her Riyarra was upset with. She must have lingered there in silence for some time, because a warm arm and a curtain of warm blanket came around her shoulder. It startled Riyarra out of her brooding and she tossed her wet hair back to keep it out of the way as her outward arm pulled her half of the blanket around them. Lysia snuggled in close and leaned her head on her queen's toned and athletic shoulders.

"You mentioned you knew Gayne?" Lysia started as she stared off at the enchanting fire. "I'll understand if you don't want to talk about it...that was also a messy situation."

"Mmm," Riyarra agreed and leaned her head down to nuzzle against her friend and compatriot. "I loved him." She just came out and said it. "I grew up with him. We played as children. He was studying to be a court bard; he was already a fine player. He was best with the flute, and he carried one everywhere, but he was also half decent at the harp and the drum." She paused to let out a fond smile at the memory. "But then he started studying at the university and we lost touch. On occasion, he'd come visit my brothers and I during the spring festivals. He'd play for us, while I beat my brothers at swords. But I think they really just let me win..."

"He was part of your family." Lysia said and pulled her part of the blanket up to her face. "I'm sorry. He was a good friend of mine, and I wasn't sure if you had a hand in... what happened." She wanted to continue but she felt the unease in Riyarra and stopped speaking.

It was a long, uncomfortable moment before Riyarra answered. A long shadowed tail swished lazily in the tree overhead.

"He figured out who I was, and the Yvarna killed him because he refused to reveal me." Riyarra said. Gentle comforting arms wrapped around her waist from under their blanket and held her. Despite the surge of emotions, Riyarra refused to let them out - for more reasons than one. "I held him until he passed, and it drove me violently insane."

"I'm so sorry." Was all Lysia could say, and held her friend tightly.

"There's more you should hear..." Riyarra started but took a moment to regain her composure. "While I was a prisoner, the Zecarins gave me something that clouds my judgment. I'm more violent than normal and more... lustful. I doubt I would have done what I did... to the Yvarna, and to you otherwise."