Chapter 18. Teleri

eetha!” Teleri Dunvael called, her inner ear listening for some sign that the foolish lynx had heard her.  One moment the big cat had been lolling on the mossy hilltop, basking contentedly in the sun, and the next she had sprung lightly into the ferns and vanished.  Unfortunately, the cat’s sudden movement had flushed the juicy young boar that Teleri had been tracking all morning and she was doubly irritated that she had neither cat nor meat for the guild.

Like all cats, Geetha had a mind of her own, but she normally responded by now.  Teleri was becoming worried as she glanced at the sun’s height and marked the passage of another hour.  The ettins and avacara were thick in this valley and she feared her feline friend might have fallen afoul of them.  Clutching her bow with renewed purpose, she adjusted her grip on the red fletched arrow nocked to its string.

She listened, tasting the air and sensing nothing more than rotting leaf litter and damp loam heating under the Krytan sun. Cicadas shrilled as the heat of the day stirred them from silence.  A broken twig and turned leaves gave her a clue to Geetha’s passing, and as she knelt to check for signs of her companion she smelled the cat’s musk.  Why did she have to choose now to mark her territory?

Sighing, Teleri stayed crouched on her hams, folding her arms over her bent thighs as she removed her mask and mopped the sweat from her face. She angrily plucked a twig from a low hanging bush and used it to skewer her golden hair into a sweaty lump at the base of her nape.  Any sensible creature would be lying in the shade having a nap as the temperature rose.  But Geetha was not known for being sensible.

Greedy and pigheaded, perhaps, Teleri thought as she half slid, half walked down a steep hillside, the moss and leaf litter doing little to give her traction.  Just a little further, then she had to turn back.  Her son, Mabane, was old enough to take care of himself.  She trusted his survival instincts, but he was still a child.  Leaving him alone like this pained her, especially since she had not told him where she might be found.

Still, he knew where to find the rest of the clan and they would take care of him.  He had lost his father in the Searing, but the Dunvael Guild had stepped up to the challenge and nurtured the boy as best they could.  He wanted for nothing and she admired the way the men lavished their attention upon the boy, treating him as they would their own son.  Teleri chided herself for worrying.  In all likelihood, Mabane was even now on a hunting expedition with Sywno, the leader of the guild.

Not that he liked hunting, she mused, a faint smile creeping onto her sweaty visage.  He took after his father, all dreamy and artistic, with a sweet singing voice and natural charm.  Shoving aside the unwelcome sadness of her lost love, she covered her face once more and headed toward the shimmer of the sea that lay below.  Finally she saw Geetha sitting sphinx-like upon a dappled knoll, her long tufted ears flicking with interest as she gazed down on the bridge outside of Lion’s Arch.

“Honestly, Geetha,” Teleri grumbled as she crept up beside the lynx, stroking her spotted flank lovingly.  The big cat thrust its head companionably into her side as she knelt beside it, a raucous purr emanating from her throat.  Teleri then followed the cat’s green-eyed gaze and noticed a battered yak cart sitting on the long bridge.  There was a rowboat drifting in the river that flowed beneath it and three prisoners were lead one at a time to the boat and made to sit at its center.  One of them she recognized and the sight of her drew an angry scowl to Teleri’s visage.  Uriel.

She watched as the little boat was rowed down the river toward the sea and secretly hoped the horrible little witch was finally getting her comeuppance.