Read Online The Legend of Lady Ilena by Patricia Malone - Free Book Online Page A

says. His tone is gruff, but his face softens when he looks at Gola. There are splotches of water on her tunic and trousers, and she is shivering. Before he mounts his horse, he pulls her cloak from the top of her pack and hands it to her. “Wear this till you dry off.”
    The trail slopes gradually upward until we reach a steep ascent. Cochan stops us near a stream that rushesdown the mountain. “We’ll rest here. It’s hard going up that track.” He nods toward a jumble of rocks that rises as high as I can see. The path is clear enough here at the bottom but disappears quickly in the mass of boulders.
    “It looks impossible,” I say.
    Gola laughs. “Just difficult. There’s another tomorrow that is worse.”
    “I’m glad you came with me.”
    “Chief Perr knew we’d like a few days to ourselves.” Gola smiles at Cochan.
    I reckon they have not been married long. It is a warming feeling to see a couple so fond of each other.
    I think again of Grenna and Moren and the looks, the smiles, the gentle touching when they thought I wasn’t watching. I feel an ache inside. The Vale of Enfert is the only home I’ve known, though I was an outsider there. With Moren and Grenna gone, I was alone there, too. Even with Jon I would have felt out of place. How good it must feel to have someone, to belong somewhere.
    We share our midday meal sitting against a sun-warmed rock and watching a pair of peregrine falcons overhead. They swoop in great slow circles over the moor and then hang motionless far above us. The horses drink from the stream and crop grass along its bank. There is a cold wind coming down the mountainside. I pull my cloak tight around me and shut my eyes.

    “Ilena, wake up.” Gola shakes my shoulder gently.
    I jump up, embarrassed to find I’d fallen asleep.
    Cochan hands me Rol’s rein. “We’ll walk up this. It’s steep for the horses even without riders.”
    Steep it is. The path is a narrow opening between huge boulders and piles of scree. In many places I have to scramble on hands and knees to get over rough spots. Cochan is far ahead, and Gola follows me. I’ve dropped Rol’s rein. There is no place for him to go except straight up with me, and he follows gamely. The mares are agile and seem accustomed to this kind of climbing. At least they don’t roll their eyes and snort as often as Rol does.
    We pause at the summit for a few minutes to rest before starting down the east side of the mountain.
    Our night shelter is a small, enclosed space; the walls are a welcome break against the cold wind. Gola builds a tiny fire against the inner wall while Cochan and I rub down the horses and measure out three piles of oats. Water runs down a crevice in the stone to a small pool. Rol and the mares drink deeply before they start on the oats.
    There is little space for our sleeping places. I spread Rol’s saddle blanket as far from Gola and Cochan as I can, and I look without success for any vegetation to soften the hard rock beneath it.
    “It’s a hard sleep here,” Gola says.
    “Aye, and a short one,” adds Cochan. “We need to be up at first light to make the next pass tomorrow.”
    We eat in silence. Stars are thick in the clear, dark sky; water from the little cascade tastes of mountain ice. I fall asleep the instant I lie down.
    When I awaken in the dim predawn light, Cochan is harnessing the horses, and I hear a murmured comment from Gola in their sleeping place.
    “I’m awake,” I call softly.
    “High time,” he says. “You women are a problem. Sleep all day if I’d let you.”
    I feel a flash of anger at his tone but relax at the sound of Gola’s laugh.
    By noon we have made some headway up the stony slopes of the next mountain range. Cochan assures me that we will find shelter just over the pass by sundown. I struggle on, thinking of Moren. It is no wonder he returned exhausted from his journey. I wish he were beside me now.
    Night camp is another rocky hollow with wind howling