Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

He frowned when he saw that it was worse, then cleaned and bandaged it, too.

“Gratitude, Tryggr,” Altene said when he was finished.

“Don’t go getting all soft on me. I would have done the same for one of the horses. You couldn’t ride for much longer like that, and when you started to slow us down, it might have been just enough to push Jarl over the edge. He’s halfway there already,” he muttered and shook his head. “I only tended to you to spare myself from having to listen to his ranting later, so don’t thank me. Get some sleep.”

“She did not stop,” the tracker reported to Jarl and Tryggr. “You see, these tracks here were made while the rain still fell. You can see the way the water poured into the print when the animal lifted its foot.”

Tryggr raised his eyebrows and shook his head, amazed. “I don’t see how that’s possible. You couldn’t see a damn thing in that rain.”

“She couldn’t either,” the tracker disclosed. “She was riding almost blind.”

“Almost?” Jarl asked.

“She used the river to guide her. I’ve found several places where she accidentally rode into the water. She couldn’t see a thing.”

“But she didn’t stop,” Jarl said, resigned to the fact that any news from the tracker these days was going to be bad.

“No,” the tracker confirmed.

“How far back are we now?” Jarl asked.

“It’s too hard to tell with the tracks being so wet. Once things dry out a bit and we get to tracks that were made on drier soil, I can tell you for sure, but she was not making good time.”

Jarl twisted his head and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while he did the calculations in his head. The storm had kept them pinned down the first afternoon and night, and all the next day and night. Even if her pace was only at half speed, that put them at least another day and a half behind her. An additional day and a half on top of the lead she already had. How could she not have stopped?

“I know what you’re thinking, Jarl, but it’s not as bad as it sounds,” the tracker continued. “She’ll have to stop and rest some time. No one can go on forever without sleep. The time she made in the storm was very slow at best. We are all fairly rested now, and if we ride at normal speed today, we’ll have gained on her by nightfall—maybe quite a bit, depending on how long she stops for,” the tracker added.

NENA STOPPED THE horses at the base of the tall red cliffs. The Bloodcliff Gates. How many times had she returned from raids and felt their welcoming security? Why did she not feel it now? Where was the relief that her exhausting journey was at an end? Where was the elation that her escape was successful and she was free? Why did she not feel anything but numb? It had to be the Taymen.

“We are here,” she said to Exanthia who was back on her own horse, trailing at the moment. “We’ve made it. These are the Bloodcliffs that keep us safe on the mountain. No enemy has ever passed through them and lived. You see on the top.” Nena pointed up to the rim. “Warriors man these cliffs day and night. When you are older, and a warrior, you will do the same.”

Exanthia said nothing, only stared at the imposing red monoliths.

“Come,” Nena said, as she led the way into the narrow canyon between the sheer rock walls. They had made it only a short distance inside when the trail turned and wove through a patch of large boulders. “These are here to slow an enemy. They prevent wagons or large groups of men from being able to pass in a rush,” Nena explained. Before she could continue, she was interrupted by the sound of pounding hooves. She looked further up the canyon, beyond the boulder field. Hard riding Teclan warriors bore down on them. In that moment Nena could see how terrifying they must be to an outsider. In her current state, still jittery and numb from the Taymen root, they were almost intimidating to her. She turned back to Exanthia and reassured her. “Have no fear. You are safe with me, and these are your people now.”

Teclan warriors surrounded them, their faces stony masks, though Nena could tell they were excited to see her. She recognized them all. There was Gentok, who, though only a few years older, had been one of her weapons trainers. Nena regarded him with fondness and respect. Then there was Baldor, a larger heavily-muscled warrior, whose sister had chosen her older brother Lothor. He was a fierce warrior, and though he was brother’s closest friend and her own brother-in law, Nena had never particularly cared for him.

“You have returned, Nena. Your father will be very pleased,” Gentok welcomed her.

“My father? He lives?” She tried, but could not keep the emotion from her voice.

“Yes,” Gentok replied. “Your father is a strong man, and though his injuries were grave, the gods have mended him.”

“And my brother? Ruga?” The words were out before she could stop them.

Gentok shook his head. “Your brother rides in the afterlife.”

Nena nodded.

Baldor rode beside her, interrupting them. He made no attempt to hide his examination of the circle on her arm, before taking an exaggerated look around, pretending to look for a husband who was clearly not there. “It is just the two of you then?” he asked.

“Yes,” Nena replied, and fought back a wave of annoyance.

That brought a hint of a smile to Baldor’s lips. He looked her over again with more familiarity than she cared for. Men from her village had looked at her before, but when it was the gods’ choice, it had been more with a wistful longing—never this kind of boldness. It would be an adjustment