The Complete Legends of the Riftwar Trilogy: Honoured Enemy, Murder in Lamut, Jimmy the Hand

‘He was the one you slew on the road,’ Gregory interjected.

Tinuva nodded.

They had heard the two approaching moredhel and had laid the ambush, and then at the very last second Tinuva had shifted aim, going for the one on the right, the same target Gregory was aiming at. It had thrown the ambush off and one had escaped, but now he understood why.

‘A moment I have dreamed of for centuries,’ Tinuva whispered.

‘I understand.’

‘Bovai hates me for what he sees as a betrayal of everything he holds sacred in his life: his clan’s honour, his blood, and his shame. Kavala hated me because of personal jealousy and envy as much as because I killed his brother. Kavala made a practice of hunting close to the boundaries of Elvandar, and when he could, he’d stalk our sentries. He killed four over the years, leaving his mark on them, so that I knew it was his doing, his way of reminding me he was out there, and more. It was he who left a message on the first corpse that Anleah had been wed to my brother.’

Gregory said nothing, waiting for Tinuva to continue, but the elf paused and sipped his tea before continuing.

‘I feel shame, and no little fear that my moredhel blood still lingers in my veins, for I will tell you what I will tell no other, Gregory: I enjoyed killing Kavala.’ He rose as he said it.

Gregory looked up at his friend, not certain how to respond. He would never have imagined his friend capable of taking pleasure in the death of another.

Tinuva kicked at the coals of the fire and then tossed another log on which crackled and hissed as the flames took. Then he squatted and held his hands out to the growing flames, warming the palms. ‘The madness of it all taints me. My father kidnapped Anleah to fulfil his own plans and my joy blinded me to the reality that my happiness was never a factor in my father’s choices. I ignored the pain my brother’s love for her must have caused him, distracted already by the call of the Returning. A clan destroyed and brothers hunting brothers in the name of honour. Madness, all of it madness.’

Another silence fell, but this one was shorter.

‘That realization came at the moment I knew I was no longer of the moredhel. I left my life behind and went on the journey to be reborn.’

‘And yet you slew Kavala without hesitation, taking the shot rather than letting me do it.’

Tinuva smiled. ‘I am of the eledhel, but that does not mean I am without flaw.’

Gregory shook his head. ‘No mortal being is without flaw.’

‘You know that my brother and I shall settle this thing soon,’ Tinuva said, looking up at the sky, which was darkening with the approach of night.

‘Is that why you tell me these things now? You feel fate closing in?’

Tinuva smiled. ‘So that someone will know. So that if I do not survive, you may tell Dennis what the truth of this hunt was, and some day tell those in Elvandar what has transpired. I was always better with the blade than my brother, but that is no guarantee of my success. Fate is bringing us together to finish this tragedy, but I may be the one to travel to the Blessed Isle, and not my brother.’

Gregory nodded, saying nothing.

‘Bovai’s honour demands it. I am an apostate; I have abandoned all that he is. The shame to my clan is all but unbearable in a way that it is hard for anyone not of the moredhel to understand.’

‘And of what he now has, that once was yours?’

‘Yes,’ Tinuva sighed. ‘I have never loved another as I once loved her. I know now that it is in the past, but still, at times I remember …’

His voice trailed off and again a silence lingered until darkness concealed the cold woods around them. Then the elf sighed and Gregory was startled beyond words to realize that Tinuva was silently weeping.

The tears of an elf were said to be the rarest of all things, and that but a single drop could restore the life of a dying man. Gregory knew the later was but an old wives’ tale, but in all the years he had known elves, he had never seen one weep. He remained motionless, hardly daring to breathe and the darkness of night closed in, the fire flickering down and dying before Tinuva spoke again.

‘My brother and I shall soon meet again,’ and his voice was a shadow moving on the night wind, ‘and it will come to a bloody end.’ He looked at his friend. ‘For the only thing that will keep me from killing him is my own death.’

Gregory remained silent. He listened to the wind, and silently thanked the gods that he was spared the burden that was crushing his friend.

• Chapter Thirteen • (#ulink_30f89569-1a9f-5f90-b8bc-23bf2a319901)

Accord (#ulink_30f89569-1a9f-5f90-b8bc-23bf2a319901)

THE WOODS WERE SILENT.

Asayaga, bow raised and partially drawn, waited. The stag was half-concealed behind a fallen log, only its antlers and the upper arc of its back visible. It had been there for some minutes, peeling bark from a low-hanging branch, head down.

Asayaga remained motionless, barely daring to breathe, a slight trickle of sweat creasing down his forehead.

The stag raised its head, seemed to look straight at him. Don’t look in its eyes, Asayaga remembered, they can sense that. He let his gaze drift away. A moment later the stag stepped out from behind the overturned log. With a steady, fluid motion, as relaxed as if he were a branch stirring in the breeze, Asayaga drew back, sighted down the shaft and let his fingers slip off the string.

The arrow winged in, the stag leapt into the air and then collapsed.

Asayaga started forward.

‘Don’t move.’

Asayaga froze and looked over his shoulder. Dennis was leaning against the tree beside him, bow in one hand.

‘Remember, I told you this before. The sound of your shooting, the impact of the arrow, the death struggle of the animal –’ and as he spoke he nodded to the stag which was feebly thrashing on the ground, ‘– if anyone else is near, it will draw them. I told you, if you are in hostile woods, after you shoot you should draw back in to your cover and wait a moment.’

‘But the animal?’

‘If you didn’t make a clean kill, that is your own damn fault. But you must wait. Look around you, listen carefully. Usually if someone who is unskilled hears the shot he’ll immediately start towards you, expecting to catch you off-guard butchering your kill, and you get an arrow in the back.’

He smiled, a smile that held no warmth.

‘I know, I’ve done it more than once.’

‘To Tsurani?’

‘Do you want to know?’

Asayaga did not reply, his gaze going past Dennis to the snow-covered glade and the stag struggling in its death agony. It was something he had never quite understood about himself. He had seen thousands of men die in nearly ten years of war and could look on it at times with a near-total detachment, but an animal suffering – be it a horse or needra injured in battle, or the stag now dying – moved him deeply. He tried to shut out the look in the animal’s eyes.

So strange to be out here like this with Hartraft, he thought. They had taken to the habit of going for a walk together each morning. For the first few days the walks had clearly been defined as a meeting to discuss what had to be done that day.

Dennis always went forth with his bow and more often than not returned with something for the pot, and finally Asayaga had borrowed a bow from Wolfgar.

Dennis had first met Asayaga’s efforts with barely-concealed disdain, but after several days, he announced that if Asayaga was to hunt by his side he had to learn to do it right or leave the bow behind.

Now, at last, Asayaga had made his first kill and he felt a touch of bitterness. The Tsurani had accepted Dennis’s lessons and admonishments in silence. He was willing to defer to Hartraft’s superior skills, and besides, he was learning, how Hartraft worked in the woods: a valuable lesson worth the humiliations. At this moment, however, he half-expected a nod, an acknowledgment of a difficult shot through the woods on game they had stalked for nearly an hour.

The mere fact that he expected some sort of praise from Hartraft made him angry with himself. He now did as ordered, carefully scanning the woods, watching as the branches slowly swayed in the afternoon breeze, trying to catch a movement that was not in rhythm, listening for a sound that was out of the ordinary. He caught the distant sound of a horse, and looked back to Dennis, who had heard it as well and simply shook his head. Of course it was all an exercise, for they were still safe in the valley, but he played out the game.

‘Nothing.’