and even when truth doesn't help with the sting
A couple of days later, the weather takes an abrupt turn for the decidedly nasty. The clouds were dark and ominous, and to make matters even worse, there was a slight miscommunication. When they hit a clan border, divided by a large strip of open ground, but no escort was waiting for them. The clan that had escorted them seemed anxious to leave ( Read more... )
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Ideally, their Atan escort would have arrived before they'd even finished eating.
It didn't. Sparhawk is less than thrilled, and Martel--who has spent the better part of the past few days alternately making himself useful and just making himself annoying, but managing to do so mainly out of Zalasta's way--isn't happy either. When their short-tempered (yet glorious) leader gives the command to move out, he's also not surprised, and he doesn't bother with the brief discussion on whether or not they should.
After all, they will, for reasons other than just Sparhawk's bad mood.
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There's some idle banter between Zalasta and Kalten (well, frankly speaking, it's more banter from Kalten's side) and then a peculiar rumble coming from the east. Maryani, along with Stragen, assumes it's a thunderstorm to finish off their lovely day.
Seconds later, the echo and ensuing bellow follow, and Maryani goes still, searching out first Nourelle and then Martel.
Ulath swears, violently.
"What's wrong?" Sparhawk demands.
"Didn't you recognize it, Sparhawk? You've heard it before--back at Lake Venne."
"What is it?" Khalad asks, apprehensive.
"It's a signal that it's time to for up! Those are Trolls out there!"
Now it's Maryani's turn to swear.
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Martel's no expert on trolls, but years in Thalesia taught him what he tends to think of as 'more than bloody enough' about the creatures, and the prospect of facing them in battle isn't really a thrilling one.
The Peloi range out into the woods to find them a defensible position, and return shortly with word of a canyon--a blind canyon with a small cave toward the end of it. Not perfect, not ideal, but with trolls approaching them with no such constraints they don't have the time to find something better.
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It's settled that Ehlana, the other ladies, and Talen, will take up residence in the cave in the back--but Maryani has no intentions of going in with them. This is the crisis situation she meant before, in her opinion, and she's not stopping to consider whether Martel will disagree. "They need you," she tells him, "Go to Sparhawk; I'll make sure Nourelle and the others are in the cave safely."
After that, she'll go and help with the preparations--she's got an idea for trip lines, since Trolls are not exactly keen observers, and wants to ask Ulath how tough the hides of these things are. Having someone who is relatively acquainted with the beasts is tremendously handy, in her opinion.
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It's oddly unsurprising that their wedding takes place on a day like this--by the time Martel and Maryani retire to their chambers, his nerves are a wreck for a variety of reasons having little to do with their marriage and everything to do with the reason they'd chosen now to be married.
Almost funny. Less so, with what Sparhawk had had to tell them after the siege that had blessedly not lasted half so long as Sarabian was worried about. Goddamn Krager, though. Martel's eager to get out of his armor, to say the least.
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Maryani hurls herself onto the sofa with a great sigh. "Cyrgon," she mutters, "I can't believe Krager really said he was working for--a god's got to be involved in this, Martel, but I don't know that it could conceivably be that one. Either way, I really, really dislike this. This was way too close, and it's just the start."
When she's stressed and has had an enormous week (marriage and battle and death and she hasn't even gotten to kiss him properly as a married woman yet, not in private), she talks.
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As fond of the steel wardrobe as Martel is, right now it's mostly a hindrance and he's not much of a conversationalist while he removes it--briefly summoning her assistance, in a fascinating switch from the usual--but eventually, he's across from her on the sofa and not looking much less stressed.
Perhaps moreso. There are things he's still not bringing up.
"Sarabian's a political child," he notes, finally. "Vastly intelligent, but--if Ehlana can't take him in hand quickly, he's going to slow things down." He likes Sarabian, but if they have to stop every ten minutes to remind him of the situation it's going to be bloody hindering awkward.
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"She will. I'll remind her, if necessary, but I don't think it will be." Maryani starts unplaiting her hair, rolling her shoulders while she does this. "I'm not tired. I ought to be tired, but--instead I'm keyed up. How are you?"
There's a lot coming for them, after all.
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