Skyfall by Catherine Asaro Page A

Eldri and Roca had ridden a third of the way down the mountains. The storm rapidly grew worse. Snow drifted down and the world became a wash of blue, all the sky, air, and ground. Soon it was impossible to see either the cliff rising to their right or the drop-off on the left. Cold seeped into their clothes, through their leggings, socks, trousers, fur-lined shirts, jackets, and gloves. It seemed to penetrate Roca’s bones. The lyrine slowed until it was barely moving through the swirls of blue. Finally it stopped and would walk no more.
    Sitting behind Roca, Eldri rested his forehead against her head. “We can go no farther. It is not safe. If we try, we will join Jacquilar.”
    She couldn’t accept defeat. “The snow may stop again.”
    “It may.” Eldri lifted his head. “But it is too thick on the ground now. It would be dangerous to go even if it stopped.”
    Roca knew he was right. With reluctance, she said, “I have more than a day yet until the ship comes. If we cannot go today, then perhaps tomorrow morning.”
    “It may clear enough by then.”
    She could tell, from his mind, that he had doubts. She twisted around to look at him. “What do we do now? Return to Windward?”
    “I am not certain. I have never been caught out in snow like this before.” Reaching back, he checked the ropes and spikes fastened to the saddlebag across the back of the lyrine. “I have survival equipment, but in this weather it won’t be enough.”
    Roca tried to imagine what else they might do. “The path becomes narrower back up the mountain, yes?”
    “Yes. It does.”
    “Is it safe to go that way now?”
    “Probably not.” He brushed at the snow that had gathered on the fur of his hood. “The Eira Lysia Meadows are to our north.”
    “Can we get there from here?” Meadows sounded far more secure than this path.
    “The lyrine knows the way, I think.” He paused. “I remember an old cottage. It is a ruin, but it might protect us from the storm.”
    “We can try.” Roca turned back around and scratched the lyrine’s neck. “Can you take us to safety?” she murmured.
    Eldri put his hand over hers, offering comfort, then took the reins and urged the lyrine forward. At first it refused to move. Then Roca felt Eldri’s thoughts, a gentle pressure directed toward the animal. She doubted he realized what he was doing, but the lyrine responded, stepping forward.
    So they went, continuing in the blinding wash of blue.
     
    They were moving in a trance, lost in a universe without definition, two people and a lyrine amid swirling blue snow. The wind had risen, Roca wasn’t certain how long ago. Eldri kept his arms around her waist, his hands clenched on the reins. He offered no hint that he recognized the way. The lyrine seemed to know, though how it could tell, Roca had no idea. She understood so little about the animals.
    A dark patch in the whirling snow formed in front of them. They came up against the mounded ruin before Roca even realized they had reached a building. She stared numbly through the storm as Eldri jumped off the lyrine. Rousing herself, she slid down next to him, stiffly, her body aching. Gripping the reins and Roca’s hand, Eldri led the way forward, past a crumbling wall.
    The wind suddenly died. For the first time in hours, since the blizzard had started, Roca could see farther than a few hand-spans. The daylight was dim, but enough to show they had entered the remains of an empty cottage. It had three walls, a roof, and most of its fourth wall. Snow had piled up against the walls, but they gave welcome relief from the storm.
    Eldri pulled his jacket tight, shivering. Blue ice encrusted the hair that had escaped his hood. “I was beginning to wonder if it was here anymore.” He tried to grin. “Do you like my new castle?”
    Roca managed a bow. “It is lovely, Your Highness.”
    “Highness?” He laughed unevenly. “What does that make us in the plains? Lownesses?”
    She smiled. “I never