Elden saw Abelar approaching. Rain pressed his hair to his scalp. “Papa!”
His exclamation startled the big animal and it lurched. Abelar’s heart jumped in his chest but Endren pulled Elden backward and the ox, too tired for much exertion, calmed immediately.
Abelar hurried forward and glared at his father. “Mind his safety.”
Endren lost his smile, looked surprised, then hurt, then angry. “He was in no danger.”
“My all wight,” Elden said.
Abelar scooped him up, put his body between Elden and Endren. To his father, he said, “The caravan is taking a meal then continuing onward. Get some food in you.”
Thunder rumbled.
“How do matters stand?” Endren asked.
“Morale is holding. We make for the Stonebridge. But the terrain and weather work against us. We are moving too slowly.”
Endren nodded. He understood the implication, though he would not say it in Elden’s presence.
“If the storm does not change course, I want you to take Elden on Swiftdawn and ride for Daerlun. We’ll mount as many as we can. The others will … remain behind with me and some others to guard them.”
Elden clapped at the prospect of a horseback ride. He loved riding Swiftdawn.
“You come, too, Papa?”
Endren and Abelar stared at one another.
“You should go, too,” Endren said.
Abelar started to shake his head but stopped. Duty to the refugees did battle with his paternal instincts. He did not want to leave his son but was not sure he could abandon the refugees. He remembered the words Riven had said to him—You have to live with yourself first. He was not sure he would be able to live with himself whatever his choice.
“We will discuss it again if it comes to that,” he said to Endren.
Thunder rumbled.
Elden put two fingers on Abelar’s throat, where he would ordinarily have worn his holy symbol.
“Where flower?”
Where indeed, Abelar thought, but said only, “Gone, Elden.”
“Bad men take it?”
Abelar smiled. “No, son. It’s just … gone. I … I gave it away.”
“You get back, Papa.”
To that, Abelar could think of nothing to say.
“Let us eat,” Endren said, and took Elden from Abelar.
Abelar took his father by the arm. “I am sorry I snapped at you.”
“It is nothing,” Endren said. “Come, Elden.”
They headed off to where the priests were summoning meals.
Abelar stood alone in the rain, thinking of flowers and choices. He resolved to speak to Regg about contingencies.
The caravan took the meal quickly, in a drizzle, and started moving south along the rapidly flowing Mudslide. Abelar and Regg took their position at the front.
As they started off, Abelar said to Regg, “If matters become dire, I want you and the company to double up with as many of the women and children as possible and go ahead. Without the wagons to slow them, the horses will outrun the storm.”
“You speak as if you would not come.”
“I won’t. But I would want you to take Elden.”
“You ask me to do something you would not?” Regg smiled, and thumped Abelar on the shoulder. “You know I cannot do that. None of us can. None of us will. We will find another way or we will give our horses to the refugees. They can ride in twos. That gets more than four hundred to safety.”
“They cannot be left unguarded.”
“Then a small force will accompany them. But I think we will have to draw lots to determine who leaves. None of the company will want a spot in a saddle better filled by a refugee. You know this. You made us, Abelar.”
Abelar nodded.
“The light is in you, Abelar. Rose or no rose. I see it.”
Abelar looked off into the rain. He did not feel the presence of his god in his soul but he did feel something. The sensation puzzled him.
“What is that?” Regg said, squinting into the rain.
Abelar followed his friend’s gaze into the southern sky. The rain and twilight reduced visibility, but he saw what had caught Regg’s eye. At first he thought it a cloud, but that could not be.
“It moves against the wind.”
“Aye,” said Regg, pulling Firstlight to a stop.
Abelar did the same with Swiftdawn and studied the sky.
Behind them, the caravan slowed, then stopped. Above the patter of rain, above the constant low roll of thunder, Abelar heard the murmur of questions turn to cries of dismay.
The object continued to close, looming larger, darker.
“It is immense,” said Regg.
“Get Trewe to sound the muster and form up.”
Regg spun Firstlight and rode back into the caravan. The clarion of Trewe’s trumpet sounded. The company began to