packhorse.”
“It’s the only way to keep him alive until we get back to the caravan,” Ashok said. “You and I are too weak to carry him far.”
“He’s barely conscious. What’s to stop the nightmare from invading his dreams?”
Ashok wouldn’t lie to her. “Nothing,” he said. “You’ll have to watch him closely once we return. He’ll need someone nearby who can tell him what’s real and what isn’t. At least he’ll be alive.”
Mareyn opened her mouth to argue, but in the end, she said nothing. They arranged the boy carefully on the nightmare’s back and started down the trade route to meet the caravan.
For a long time, neither spoke. Weariness and pain marked Mareyn’s face. She checked the boy to see if he still breathed. Her own wound bled through the hasty bandage she’d put on it. Ashok watched her struggle through the pain to put one foot in front of the other.
The idea of pain as a weakening force in humans was a concept he still could not grasp. He wanted to tell Mareyn to use the pain, to let the burn in her side act as the anchor that kept her centered in this world.
Humans functioned differently. Pain yanked at their souls the way the shadows pried at his, tempting them to oblivion.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Mareyn said abruptly.
“Like what?” Ashok said.
“Like a shadar-kai.” She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “When you’re human and you’ve lived in Ikemmu long enough, you start to notice that shadar-kai look. It’s either distaste or intense fascination-the fascination is more disturbing, if you want the truth. That’s how you looked at me just now.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashok said. “It’s just-”
“I know,” Mareyn said. “We’re too different for it to be otherwise.”
Silence fell between them again, but it didn’t last long. Mareyn slowed her pace until she was barely moving at all. Ashok came up behind her and touched her shoulder.
“We need to keep moving,” he said. “The nightmare can carry both of you if you need to rest.”
“Not even Tymora’s blessing could coax me onto that beast,” Mareyn said. “And I have to keep a clear head. I can’t afford to have nightmares haunting me the rest of this journey.”
“At least stay close to its warmth.”
They picked up the pace. After another long silence, Mareyn said, “Did someone do that for you-tell you what was real and what wasn’t-when you first tamed the beast?”
“Vedoran,” Ashok said. “He was a sellsword and one of my first companions when I came to Ikemmu. He was with me when I awoke from the worst of the dreams.”
“The two of you were close?”
“For a time, yes.”
“But he’s gone now, isn’t he?” Mareyn said. “Otherwise he would be here on this journey with you.”
“Yes. Vedoran would have relished a challenge like this,” Ashok said, gazing at the unforgiving landscape, the beauty of the snow-covered mountains. When he turned away, he caught her looking at him with a wistful, sad expression in her eyes. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking of a question that’s hard to ask, and maybe it’s not entirely fair.”
“You can ask anything you want,” Ashok said. He noticed that conversation distracted her from the pain, kept her alert and moving.
“When you volunteered to come with me to save Les, what was your first thought? Did you do it out of concern for the boy? Was it for me, or did you do it because you wanted to hunt down the snowfang?”
Ashok thought back to the moments after the wolf battle. They’d all been distracted by the need for haste, both to evade the brigands and to catch up with the escaping wolves. The snowfang had blinded him with its frost breath. Ashok remembered feeling anger, both at the snowfang and at himself for being caught off guard. He’d promised himself it wouldn’t happen again, that the next time they encountered each other, Ashok would have the upper hand.
He tried to sort out where in the tangle of those thoughts he’d considered Les or Mareyn, but he couldn’t get past the excitement he’d felt at the possibility of the chase, of using the nightmare’s fire to burn the snowfang down.
His silence seemed answer enough for Mareyn. The wistful expression deepened. “I didn’t really expect anything more or less from you,” she admitted. “And you’ll always have my deepest gratitude for what you did for me-for Les-out here.”
“There’s no need to-”
“Yes, there is,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s strange-the other races in Ikemmu, especially the humans, view your people in so many different lights. I used to wonder why your leaders revered Tempus. All this time, I’d convinced myself the shadar-kai were meant to be Tymora’s servants. Your fortunes and fates are so mercurial. You plunge into every experience as if it could be your last, and you dance right to the edge. I love to watch you when you fight for the same reason. I thought you were embracing life by behaving that way.”
Ashok shook his head. “Most of us are just trying to avoid death.”
“Yes, and you’ll court any force to do it,” Mareyn said, “fortune, misfortune, creation, destruction. For your people, survival comes before everything-fear, compassion, love, hate. To put any other emotion first is a struggle for you.”
“A struggle, but it’s worth the cost,” Ashok said, remembering Reltnar and the slaughter room of his enclave. There lay the consequences of putting survival above everything else.
“The night we shared together-for you, it was a means to keep from fading,” Mareyn said. “You don’t seek companionship for the same reasons I do. I might be looking for fun, for comfort in the night, a taste of joy on a hard, cold journey. But you-you’ll share pleasure with me, but if it’s meant to aid your own survival, I don’t think I want to be responsible for that.”
“So you don’t think we share Tymora’s kiss?” Ashok said, an edge of mockery in his voice. “Our paths didn’t cross by the will of your goddess so that we could bring good fortune to each other?”
For a long time, she didn’t reply. He thought he’d angered her. Then she stopped and laid her hand over his. “Do you think I’m afraid of you, Ashok?” she asked. “Is that why you try to keep me at bay? Or do you truly hate the gods that much?”
“I ride the nightmare-the demon; you’d be wise to be afraid,” Ashok said harshly.
She laughed, which shocked him. “Oh, Ashok, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the most frightening thing I’ve seen in Faerun. You’re not.” She stroked the scars on his knuckles. “I’ve seen things here you can’t imagine. That’s why I want to be careful not to treat you too lightly. You’re not ready. Someday you might be, and maybe our paths will cross again when you return from Rashemen.”
“Nothing will have changed,” Ashok said. “You said it yourself-we’re too different. I’m not like you.”
“We’ll see. Until then, take care of Ilvani,” Mareyn said. “I want her to find the peace she needs.”
“So do I.” In that, at least, they were united. “I hope whatever path you walk continues to bring your goddess’s favor,” he said. “May Tymora never disappoint you.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they heard the rumble of wagons and the snuffling of weary horses. Slowly the caravan came into view, diminished but safe.
“They did it,” Ashok said. “Ilvani and Daruk drove back the brigands.”
“Tymora be praised,” Mareyn said. Briefly, she embraced him, and they went to join the others.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The caravan spent three days tending to its wounded and seeing to the dead. Vlahna sent scouts ahead to report on how far they were from the road out of the mountains. Blessedly, they were only a day away from passing out of the mountains and into Rashemen. Their remaining supplies would hold out long enough for them to get to Mulsantir.
Despite this news, the caravan crew was discouraged and grieved for their losses. The Martucks were elated to have their boy returned to them, but Ashok sat on guard duty each of those three nights and listened to Les toss
