Elbryan and Pony helped Captain Kilronney secure his prisoners in a barn in Caer Tinella. Though it didn't seem as if any of the powries would try to escape, the captain set a score of guards in the place and separated the dangerous dwarves into groups of three.
Satisfied that there would be no trouble, the ranger took Greystone and Symphony away, while his exhausted companion went back to their lodg-ing. Elbryan expected to find Pony asleep when he returned half an hour later, but she was standing at a window, staring into the forest, still wearing her drenched clothing.
"You'll rot the wood under your feet," Elbryan said with a smile.
Pony looked at him long enough to show him her own smile, then turned back to the forest.
"We should speak about last night," Elbryan remarked. He was upset that Pony had acted without his knowledge or help.
"Bradwarden and I eliminated a problem, nothing more," Pony replied.
"A problem that would have been eliminated anyway," the ranger said, "with less risk."
Now Pony turned to face him, her expression severe. "To whom?" she asked. "You could not have had a cleaner fight if all the Palmaris garrison had come north to join you. Not a single man or woman was scratched, and the threat is ended."
Elbryan held up his hands defensively halfway through her retort. "I only fear - " he started to respond.
"That I might have been injured?" Pony interrupted. "Or killed? Do not presume to protect me."
"Never that," Elbryan said, "no more than you presume to protect me. But I fear the wisdom of your actions." He hesitated, expecting Pony to strike back, but she stared at him, even cocked her head to the side, her look pensive.
"Obviously it was no random lightning strike that took down the front of the cave," Elbryan said.
"You think that only because you know of my power with the gemstones."
"But still, the magical energy was considerable," Elbryan went on. "I fear that there might be monks in the area once more, searching for us and for Bradwarden. They might have detected the stone use."
Pony's admission that the reasoning might be sound came in the form of a nod.
"And what of the powrie prisoners?" the ranger asked. "What strange tales of your powers might they tell?"
"Most who saw anything worth reporting are dead," Pony replied grimly.
"But I understand," Elbryan was quick to add. "It has been difficult for you, and for Bradwarden. Both of you are full of justifiable anger, and yet you two, above all others, have been relegated to a passive role."
At that moment, Pony almost told him that she was carrying his child. She wanted to explain that this one outburst against the powries was the only revenge she would allow herself during her pregnancy, that she meant to move far from danger for the sake of the unborn babe. She hesitated, staring long and hard as Elbryan went on, talking about the trip to the Tim-berlands and how both Pony, should she decide to go north, and Bradwarden would have more opportunities to join in the battles when the soldiers had departed.
Pony hardly heard a word of it. Her concentration was on Elbryan, this man she loved. She moved toward him slowly, lifted her finger to her pursed lips, and then, when she got close enough, put it up to his lips, silencing him.
She moved her hand from his lips to brush his cheek, rising on tiptoe to kiss him gently.
She felt Elbryan go tense - he was remembering their frantic encounter in the woods, she realized. She held the kiss for a long while, keeping it soft and tender, then stepped back, her hand still gently brushing his cheek.
The quiet moment was stolen as a drop of water rolled from Elbryan's hair to land with a plop in the puddle at his feet. Both looked down and giggled, as much from nervousness as from amusement. Then they looked into each other's eyes, remembering the experiences they had shared, remembering why they had fallen in love. Pony kissed him again, once, twice, each one tender but more passionate.
Then she stepped back and unclasped her cloak, letting it drop to the floor. Without a word, she unlaced her tunic and pulled it over her head, and stood, bare to the waist again staring at her lover.
He wasn't sure, she realized. She had shaken him with her aggressive, even angry, approach in the forest, and now her demeanor had him off balance.
She went back to him again, smiling wistfully, then kissing him, and his arms came about her, roaming softly over her wet body.
They made love, but it was not like the frantic encounter in the forest. It was warm and gentle, full of tender words and tender caresses.
Afterward, they lay cuddled in each other's arms. Pony had made no fur-ther mention of her intentions, but they both knew that, with the morning light, they would be separated, one riding south, the other north.
Again Pony considered telling Elbryan the truth of her condition, and again she realized, for his peace of mind, that this was not the time. His road lay north, to Dundalis, which would one day be their home. If he was to make that journey safely and help secure that region, his concentration would have to be complete.
They spent the rest of that day and all night alone together in the small house, speaking little, just enjoying each other's presence.
The morning dawned bright and clear, and the pair went out together, sharing one last sword dance. All too soon after that, Pony had Greystone saddled and packed with supplies.
"We will meet back here at the spring equinox," Elbryan said to her.
"Just over three months," Pony remarked. "Will that be enough time?"
"I will not be able to hold Shamus back much longer than that," the ranger explained. "He is eager for the Timberlands, and, if the weather stays mild, he'll likely want to set out before then."
"Then go," Pony replied, thinking that her lover had meant to go north all along. "Leave as early as the weather allows, and return as early as you can. I will be here waiting for you."
The ranger sighed.
"Mid-spring's day, then," Pony said. "That should give you near to eight weeks to go and secure the Timberlands."
"Too much time away from you," said the ranger, flashing his boyish smile, his green eyes sparkling in the morning light.
"Caer Tinella on mid-spring's day," Pony agreed. "And I will come back to you with my grief put to rest, ready to look to the road ahead."
"A quiet road," Elbryan said.
Pony chuckled. She knew, and so did Elbryan, that no road would be quiet for an elven-trained ranger. They would live on the edge of the Wilderlands, protecting three towns from goblins and powries, giants and wild animals. They would work with Bradwarden to protect the animals and the forest from careless and callous humans.
No, the road ahead would not be quiet, she knew. If nothing else, it would be filled with the sounds of a baby's cry and the laughter and joy of proud parents. Again she almost told him. She gave Elbryan a long, tender kiss, whispered another promise to meet him on mid-spring's day, then climbed upon Greystone's strong back and kicked the horse into a quick trot down the road to the south.
She didn't look back.
"She is gone," Elbryan said quietly when the image of his uncle Mather appeared in the mirror at Oracle. "I miss her dearly already, though the morning is but half through!"
The ranger sat back against the cool wall of the small cave and gave a self-deprecating chuckle. He did indeed miss Pony, and he was pained by the thought that she would not be with him for several long months. Sitting there, in the dark and quiet, Elbryan could hardly believe how much he had come to depend on her. Besides the obvious benefit of Pony's skill in battle, she was Elbryan's emotional support, his best friend, the only one of his closest companions who could see the world through the eyes of a human and the only one with whom he chose to share so much of his thoughts and feelings.
Elbryan gave a great sigh, then another chuckle, thinking how empty the road north to his home would seem without Pony and Greystone trotting along beside him and Symphony.
"I understand why she had to go, Uncle Mather," he went on. "And though I still do not agree with her choice, I admit that it was hers to make. And I am not nearly as worried as I was just a few days ago. Pony has found a better and more secure attitude - I saw that clearly when Shamus Kil-ronney decided to capture, and not kill, the trapped powries. A week ago, Pony would never have agreed to that, or more likely, would have killed all the powries before we arrived. Perhaps she has put enough of her grief behind her now. Or if not, then perhaps this trip back to Palmaris, to see Fellowship Way - which I am confident Belster O'Comely has brought back to its previous reputation - will grant her peace of mind.
"I miss her, and it will be a long few months waiting to see her again," he admitted. "But this may be for the better. Pony should be removed from battle for now, should be in a quiet place where she can properly remember the Chilichunks, and properly grieve for them. I do not believe that the road north will be such a place. We'll find many powries and goblins, and even giants, before Dundalis and the other two towns are rebuilt, I do not doubt."
Elbryan closed his eyes and ran a hand through his thick mop of brown hair. "The soldiers have left, as well," he told the silent ghost, "soon after Pony, though they did not know that she had gone out before them. I will miss Shamus Kilronney - he is a good man - but I am glad that he and the other soldiers are not making the trip north. The folk kept the secret of Bradwarden and Juraviel, and those who knew said nothing of Pony's profi-ciency with the gemstone magic. I am sure of this, for Tomas Gingerwart kept a close eye on his fellows and understood the urgency of the situation. Pony and I can remain obscure to all but the most knowledgeable and prying eyes, I am sure, but Bradwarden's distinct heritage would mark him clearly to any who knew the recent histories of St. Precious or St.-Mere-Abelle. Better that Shamus turned south; Bradwarden, Juraviel, and I will clear the way to the north."
The ranger nodded as he finished, believing the logic of his words. He was glad Pony had gone to Palmaris, if that was what she needed, and he did believe that Dundalis would be easily reclaimed. He thought again of his last intimate encounter with Pony, the tenderness, the sharing, and con-trasted that with their almost angry encounter in the forest. This last encounter was sincere, he knew; the truth of his love for Pony, and hers for him, and the simple fact that she had been able to put aside her anger so completely gave him hope.
And so it was with complete trust in his wife that Elbryan came out of that small cave to see the bright morning, the clouds finally giving way. He found an extra blessing awaiting him: a rainbow, stretching from horizon to horizon. That brought a smile to Elbryan's handsome face, a sparkle in his olive-green eyes, and a strange feeling that the rainbow was for him and Pony, that they would be joined, despite the miles, by its bands.
The thought settled and Elbryan put it, and all of his other feelings for Pony, into a warm place in his heart. He could not afford any distractions now. This was the life the elves had given to him: the ranger, the protector. Nightbird.
The task of reclaiming the Timberlands fell squarely upon his strong shoulders, and woe to any powrie, goblin, or giant that stood before him.
Sitting astride Greystone in a copse of trees off the side of the road just south of Landsdown, Pony, too, saw the rainbow. She hardly stopped to appreciate the beauty, though, nor did she hold any romantic notions of a rainbow bridge connecting her to Elbryan.
Her focus was pragmatic, and her gaze now had settled on a rising cloud of dust coming from the north, the telltale approach of Captain Kilronney and his soldiers.
Pony eased Greystone a bit farther back into the wooded cover when the group came into sight.
A point rider led the way, trotting his mount swiftly some fifty yards ahead of the main group. He went past Pony's position, head turning as he scanned for potential enemies, but she was well concealed.
Shamus Kilronney and his strong-willed cousin led the main host, arguing as they rode. They always seemed to be arguing, Pony noted. She realized that she would miss Shamus Kilronney, and her gaze lingered on him as he moved past her. She respected this man, and liked him and thought that if they had met under different, less trying circumstances, they might be great friends. Her feelings toward Colleen were more ambiguous; she certainly wasn't enamored of Colleen's condescending attitude. But Pony would not allow herself to be too judgmental. Above all else, Colleen Kilronney possessed an aura of competence. The warrior woman had likely been through many trying experiences during the war, Pony realized, and if she wasn't trusting, it was understandable.
Four ranks of five soldiers each, including most of Colleen Kilronney's warriors, came next, all alert and looking for signs of danger. It struck Pony that none of them, not even the two leaders, seemed splendid in the morning light. They didn't resemble the knights of the famed Allheart Brigade, whom Pony had seen thundering about in their shining armor dur-ing her time in the King's army; rather, they were capable, battle- hardened warriors, a bit weary but ready for any foe.
Behind them, tied together waist to waist and each laden with a huge pack of supplies or a tied stack of firewood, came the score and seven powrie prisoners. Despite the load, the powries, prodded by soldiers, rolled along at a tremendous pace. Powries were legendary for their endurance - the dangerous powrie barrelboats had no sail and were propelled by pedaling dwarves, yet these ships traveled the rough waters of the open Mirianic and had been known to overtake sailing ships in a stiff wind! And now the powries lived up to that reputation, stepping to keep pace with the trotting horses without a grumble or complaint.
The whole group moved down the road, around a bend, and out of sight, save the telltale cloud rising up above the trees. Familiar with Captain Kil-ronney's tactics, Pony knew to wait a bit longer, and sure enough, the trailing pair of scouts came by.
The woman jiggled Greystone's reins and the horse started out of the copse.
"And still you did not tell him," came a familiar voice.
Pony turned the horse to the side and scanned the trees, finally picking out Juraviel sitting calmly on a branch some ten feet from the ground.
"Are we to have this fight again?" she asked indignantly.
"I only fear - "
"I know what you fear," Pony interrupted. "And I fear it as well. If Elbryan is killed up north, then he will die without ever knowing that he has fathered a child."
Juraviel, obviously agitated, hopped down to a lower branch. "How cold are your words," he remarked.
"How true are my words," she corrected. "Both Elbryan and I have been living with the shadow of death looming over us since before we journeyed to Aida."
"Thus I would think that you would wish to tell him."
Pony shrugged. "I do wish to tell him," she said, "but I know that to be the wrong course. If he knew, then he would not go north - or not without me, at least. And I am not going to Dundalis."
"Never?"
"Of course I will return to my home, and Dundalis is my home," she was quick to reply. "But not now. And Elbryan would not go without me if he knew that I was with child."
She paused. "And that would be to the detriment of us all," Pony went on. "The Timberlands must be reclaimed, and none will do that better than Nightbird."
Juraviel nodded.
"So, no, Belli'mar Juraviel, I did not tell Elbryan," she said bluntly. "But I will promise you this: I plan to raise my child in Dundalis, and will rejoin Elbryan before the babe is born."
"If we get into a situation from which I can see no escape," Juraviel said quietly, "or if Elbryan is grievously wounded and near death, I will tell him the truth."
Pony smiled and nodded. "I would expect nothing less from you, my friend," she said.
"One more promise and I shall be satisfied," Juraviel said after another pause. "I will have your word that you will always remember the life that is within your womb," he said firmly. "Promise me that you will keep safe, and that you will not go in search of a fight and will avoid any which find you."
Pony eyed him sternly, indignantly.
"The child within you is the child of Nightbird," the elf said, not backing down. "Thus, the safety of the babe is of great interest to the Touel'alfar."
"Of course my concern is for my child," Pony retorted. "Need you ask - "
"Need I remind you of the powries in the cave? " Juraviel interrupted just as forcefully. Then he did back down, though, offering a disarming, sincere smile. "The child within you is more than the child of Nightbird," he explained. "It is the child of Elbryan and Jilseponie. Thus, the safety of the babe is of great interest to Belli'mar Juraviel."
Pony could take no more. The elf had her trapped by the honest concern of friendship. "I surrender," she said with a laugh. "And I promise."
"Farewell then," Juraviel said somberly. "And hold to that promise. You cannot begin to understand the importance of the life that grows within you."
"What do you know?" Pony asked with concern, for Juraviel's words and tone hinted at something larger.
"I know the beauty of a child," the elf replied.
It seemed to Pony that he was being evasive, but she knew the ways of the Touel'alfar well enough to understand that she could not coerce any-thing from one of them.
"I am to meet Elbryan and mid-spring's day in Caer Tinella," she ex-plained. "I expect that Belli'mar Juraviel will see him there safely."
Juraviel did a silent count of the months. He knew from Pony's words that the child had been conceived on the road to St.-Mere-Abelle in late summer. Juraviel thought to comment that Pony would meet Elbryan only if she was still fit to travel then, but he kept quiet. She knew the timing better than he, he assured himself.
Pony paused and reached into her pouch, producing a smooth gray stone, the soul stone. "Perhaps you should take this," she offered. "It is the stone of healing and you may well find use for it."
Juraviel shook his head. "We have the magical armband Bradwarden wears," he said. "You keep the gemstone." His gaze drifted down to her belly and she understood that he feared she might need it even more.
Pony pocketed the gem. "Mid-spring's day," she said.
"Fare you well, Jilseponie Wyndon," Juraviel replied.
The elf nodded. Pony offered a last smile, kicked Greystone into a brisk walk out of the copse, then trotted off down the south road.
Juraviel watched her ride out of sight, honestly wondering if he would ever see her again. He hoped that she would hold to that last, all- important prom-ise to keep out of harm's way, but he recognized the pain and rage within her and understood her need for action. The powrie fight had sated that need, had brought a measure of calm, but only temporarily, Juraviel knew.
Like the smiles Pony had shown him in this meeting. They were not lasting things, not signals of true contentment. Pony's mood had shifted dramatically in the course of seconds, at the prompting of only a few words. Watching her go, Juraviel could only hope that no trouble found her among the dangerous streets of Palmaris.
And even if Pony did get to Caer Tinella for mid-spring's day, Juraviel doubted that he would be there to greet her. It was nearing time for him to go home, back to Andur'Blough Inninness. Lady Dasslerond needed to know about the babe, the child of Nightbird, who was, in effect, the child of Caer'alfar.
Pony soon had the trailing riders in sight. She took care to stay back, but the group was focused on the road ahead so she had little trouble shad-owing them all day.
They set camp among a group of deserted farmhouses, one of many such settlements that had not yet been reclaimed.
Pony set her small camp in sight of the soldiers, taking comfort in the warm lights that shone through the windows and in the silhouetted forms of men walking about the blazing fire set on the common ground between the houses. They were confident, obviously so, that there were no sizable groups of monsters in the area - none that would challenge them, at least - and Pony knew that their confidence was well placed. Still, she thought it foolish for Captain Kilronney to advertise his position, especially with more than a score of dangerous powrie prisoners in tow.
So Pony did more than rest that night; she went out with her soul stone, keeping a silent and vigilant watch over the troop.
As much a ranger as her husband.
At the same time, Elbryan, Juraviel, and Bradwarden reclined comfort-ably on a bare hillock some distance north of Caer Tinella. The ranger lay on his back, hands folded behind his head, eyes staring up at the starry sky. Bradwarden was similarly at ease, plopped on the ground, his front horse legs crossed before him. Even in his reclining posture, his human torso remained upright. "Hard on the breathin' if I lay on me side," he explained to his friends.
Juraviel was the most agitated of the three, looking as much at Elbryan as at the skies above, though any elf would surely enjoy the quiet splendor of the sky this clear, crisp evening. Juraviel's concern was for Elbryan, for the ranger was obviously sad, and his posture spoke more of resignation than of serenity.
Bradwarden saw it, too. "She'll be back," the centaur offered. "Ye know she's not to leave ye for long, and know, too, that there's no other man for her heart."
"Of course," Elbryan replied with a chuckle that turned into a sigh.
"Ah, but for the ladies," Bradwarden lamented dramatically. "Oft times I'm glad indeed that I've seen none o' me own kind o' the fair sex."
"Sounds a bit lonely," said Elbryan. He managed a wry smile and looked at Juraviel. "And frustrating."
"Ah, but there's the beauty in being a centaur," Bradwarden interjected with a mischievous wink. "I'll be takin' a ride on a dumb horse, with no questions to be answered and no explanations to be given!"
Elbryan pulled his hands out from behind his head and covered his face, groaning, left speechless by the crude centaur and not wanting to conjure such a picture in his mind.
"Just be glad that Symphony is a stallion," Juraviel put in, and the ranger groaned again.
Bradwarden only laughed harder.
Then it went quiet on the hillock, the three friends each alone and yet sharing the splendor of night sky. Some time later, Bradwarden took up his bagpipes and started playing a haunting melody that drifted through the trees like an evening mist, unobtrusive and adding to the mystical qualities of the night.
