“I’ll go with you, Fam. Trot over to the staven forest, Greenbliss, and chat about trees, then slip south to the slayers for a drink of water and to complain about the cloudy sky.”
“Sure, tease me after the horrible morning I’ve had.”
“Me?” He screwed up his face into a silly expression. “Never.”
She smiled. “You always make me feel better. Is there anyone you want to pledge to, Gof?”
It was his turn to study the ground. “No one’s asked.”
“You would be a good catch. You’re funny, handsome, and smart. Someone will want you.”
“If you meet anyone that does, tell me.”
She touched his hand. “I will, Gof.”
Mril shimmered above them in winding ribbons, weaving their way toward an increasing light in the canopy. The mril’s hand-sized bodies glowed, hiding their true shape, their silvery-white wings blurring. Wyshea believed the mril were Beloved’s daughters. Famere loved watching them.
“Come on, Gof. I have to meet Mereeth.” Running easily, Goflin beside her, she chased the bright creatures streaming through the forest.
The intensity of the light increased until after a hundred yards they arrived at the east mril cluster. Heavily muscled Bosho and tiny, pixie-faced Yameen lifted their hands in greeting. Famere hugged Yameen, and Bosho and Goflin clasped each other’s forearms.
“You’re all right, Fam?” asked Yameen.
“I am.”
Bosho barely lifted his brows. “You’re very brave, Famere.”
“Or stupid,” she muttered, giving an awkward smile. “Blessings.”
The four of them gazed up at the thousands of glowing mril hovering around the upper third of six norre trees growing in a cluster, their purple tongues flicking in and out to sip the flowing norre sap. The sahr melody hummed stronger here, and the light from the mril forced Famere to hold a hand over her brow. She thought the sunlight hidden by the clouds must be like this, bright and stunning.
A figure appeared abruptly at her side, startling her, and she mouthed, “Ison.”
Ison’s emerald hair lay on his shoulders, his lanky frame relaxed. Six months older than her, and taller, he had high cheekbones and a narrow jaw. Her pulse raced as his arms slid around her waist.
“I was worried about you.” Famere gently held him, resting her cheek on his powerful shoulder, inhaling the scent of mint oil on his skin. “Blessings for saving me.” They had been close friends—baethe—ever since Darkas had begun Ison’s warrior training. She had grown fond of him over time. He always made her feel safe from the threat of the war.
“Father said you were with Grandfather Toash,” she whispered.
“Your grandfather sent me back to report. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Really?” His words made it easier to push her morning vision aside. Lifting her head, she met his soft lips, enjoying the strength in his arms as his lithe body pressed against hers. A rush of excitement ran through her. Conscious of her friends, she eased away. “I owe you a life-debt.”
“You owe me nothing, Fam.” He stroked her back. “Is your wound all right?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
He spoke quietly. “When Mereeth was wounded I was scared, Fam. I didn’t want you to go through what I did.” His voice lowered. “Losing your mother.”
“Oh, Ison.” She held him again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He stroked her hair. “No wyshea children will ever lose their parents again.”
“That’s a nice dream.” She pulled back. Something in his eyes seemed more assured than usual, and it made her wonder how he had hidden himself from their senses. Even her mother would have difficulty sneaking up on them like he had. It reminded her of how suddenly he had appeared when he rescued her from the staves. Curious, she decided to wait until they were alone to ask him about it.
“When the staves attacked you, I realized how much you mean to me.” He paused. “Tonight we finally pledge.”
“I want that more than anything, Ison. You know I love you.”
“I do, Fam.”
Hesitating, she plunged forward. “But I’m not ready to be seer.”
“You’ll see things differently tonight.” He smiled, playfully lifting her chin. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” Glad that he wasn’t upset about her admission, she drummed her fingers lightly on his chest. “Tell me.”
He smiled. “You’ll have to wait, love.”
“Hmm. A secret?”
“Maybe.” He tugged her hand. “Take a walk with me.”
“I’m waiting for Mereeth, but afterward—”
“I’m busy with Darkas the rest of the day.” He kept tugging her.
She debated going with him to find out what he was hiding.
“Please,” he added.
“You must be hard of hearing,” said Goflin. “That’ll make it difficult to fight, won’t it, Ison?”
Famere glanced at Goflin, confused over the edge in his words.
Ison gave a sideways smirk. “Is anyone pledging to you, Goflin? Perhaps a skunk?”
“Come on, you two.” Famere gave a friendly wave to Goflin, but he ignored her.
“If you weren’t Darkas’ choice for guide, you’d be pledging to a mouse.” Goflin rolled his eyes. “A little one.”
“You’re Famere’s friend, so I’ll ignore that.” Ison gently guided Famere several steps from the others. “Come on, Fam.”
She slipped her hand from his grasp. “I want to, but Mereeth will be here soon.” She smiled, trailing a hand along his arm. “After.”
Ison stepped closer and put his hands around her waist again, pulling her in close. “A short walk. I would have asked earlier, but you were sleeping.”
She held his waist, her resistance wavering. “It won’t take long to talk to mother. It’s important.”
Ison smiled. “We’ll be back before she misses you.”
“Well…” He was right, Mereeth might be a while.
“Hard of hearing and needs to repeat himself.” Goflin shook his head. “Might be hard as wyshea guide.”
Ison’s face tightened. Famere moved closer to distract him, but his jaw clenched and he said, “You have a big mouth, Goflin.”
Goflin glared at him.
“Let’s walk a little, Ison,” whispered Famere. “As long as I can still see the cluster.”
Ison didn’t move, and instead glared at Goflin.
Bosho’s brow creased and he tapped Goflin’s arm.
Goflin scowled and turned away from Ison.
“Our warriors say slayers are strong,” said Bosho.
“Oh, yes.” Yameen patted Bosho’s thick arm. “And their maqal have horns as long as our legs. Be careful tonight, Bosho.”
He grasped her hand. “I will.”
“Come on.” Famere pushed lightly against Ison’s chest, but he still didn’t move.
Ison’s eyes shone as he said to the others, “Tonight we’ll take the fight to the slayers.”
“That’s not the wyshea way.” Famere repeated another of Darkas’ rules, “Attack when attacked.”
“Time for a change, Fam.”
She studied him, again sensing something different she couldn’t identify. As if he knew a huge secret the rest of them didn’t.
“How would we attack the slayers?” Bosho’s brows arched. “Their army is much larger than ours.”
“You’ll see.” Ison looked at each of them, his smile confident. “Let’s go, Fam.” He tugged on her waist.
Goflin put a hand on Ison’s shoulder, his voice hoarse. “Leave her alone.”
Famere touched his arm. “It’s all right, Gof.”
Ison separated from her, slid a foot behind Goflin’s leg, and pushed him to the ground.
“Don’t,” pleaded Famere. “Please, Ison.”
Scrambling to his feet, Goflin charged Ison. They grappled with each other, but I
son slammed him against one of the large norre trees. Pressing a forearm into Goflin’s throat, Ison grabbed his dagger hilt.
“Ison.” Without thinking, Famere unwound her thrip, unsure what she would do with it. She was relieved when Bosho stepped to Goflin’s side and gripped Ison’s wrist, his muscular body tense.
“No weapons.” Bosho’s expression and voice were neutral.
Ison glared at him, but let go of his knife and released Goflin. Yanking his arm free from Bosho’s grasp, he backed up.
Goflin slumped against the tree and gulped air, his face flushed.
Famere looked from Goflin to Ison, hoping it would end now. Yameen moved beside her, wide-eyed.
Ison scowled. “You need a friend to help you, Goflin.” He uncoiled his thrip, floating it waist-high. Raising his other arm, he aimed his palm at Goflin.
Unsure what he intended, Famere stepped between them. “Please, Ison. No more fighting.”
Ison’s eyes widened when he saw the thrip in her hand. “Fam.”
She looked at her whip too, confused about what to say to him.
“Ison.”
Famere turned, and her shoulders relaxed.
Mereeth stood close by, hands on her hips, staring at Ison. Her wolf-bond, Mir, bristled and faced Ison too. Famere hadn’t heard Mereeth arrive, but her mother was the best among the wyshea at moving quietly.
Ison immediately lowered his outstretched palm and wound his thrip with a flick of his hand. Mir relaxed and sat beside Mereeth.
Famere wound her thrip too. Quickly stepping beside Ison, she allowed her hand to drift to his. She was glad when he curled his little finger around hers.
Mereeth walked around them, following the trail of movement in the bent grass and dirt. Finished, she barely flicked a hand to Bosho. “Blessings, Bosho.”
Bosho gave a small nod.
Facing Ison, Mereeth’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”
He flapped an arm toward Goflin. “He put his hands on me first.”
Goflin hung his head. “He’s right. It’s my fault.” He turned to Ison. “I’m sorry.”
Ison’s hand fluttered from his leg. “Accepted.”
Famere exhaled. But she didn’t understand why Goflin had started the fight. He wasn’t one of Ison’s close friends, but they had never argued before today.
Mereeth’s voice hardened. “A guide never raises a weapon against one of his warriors, Ison.”
“I was playing.” Ison sounded contrite, his expression apologetic. “I wasn’t going to use it, but I went too far.” He straightened and looked at Goflin. “I won’t ever do it again.”
“Never again.” Goflin stepped forward and extended his arm to Ison.
Ison grasped it. “Never again. We’re baethe.”
“Baethe.” Goflin sounded sincere.
Mereeth’s face softened. “All right. It’s over. Learn from it. We have enough enemies without fighting each other.”
Famere gave Goflin a tiny nod, and he blinked acknowledgment. She squeezed Ison’s finger with hers, glad he had resolved the fight peacefully like a wyshea guide.
Mereeth lifted her chin to Famere. “My daughter saw the sun’s light this morning.”
Famere’s cheeks warmed as the others regarded her with open mouths.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Fam?” Ison’s disappointment was obvious.
She gave him a quick glance. “I was going to.”
He sounded hurt. “It’s a rare omen.”
“Truly a blessing.” Yameen smiled.
Mereeth barely lifted her hand to Ison. “Darkas is waiting for you to prepare for tonight. Tell him what happened.”
“I will, Mereeth.” He leaned closer to Famere, whispering, “Until tonight, my love.”
“Tonight,” she said. Their lips met for a moment, and then he left, quickly fading into the forest. She wished she could leave with him. Maybe his secret would calm her fears about tonight.
Mereeth waved at the others. “Please, I have to talk to my daughter alone.”
Before leaving, Goflin glanced at Famere, his face downcast. She guessed he was disappointed too that she hadn’t told him about the sunlight. Her vision about the approaching bonding ceremony had scattered her thoughts.
After her friends drifted away into the woods, she inhaled sharply. “Mother, I—”
“Fam.” Mereeth’s eyes darkened. “If the war continues, our people will be defeated in a month. I don’t need the sight to see this. Everyone knows the war is going badly.”
Famere’s mouth became dry. “Does Dar agree?”
“Yes. It will take our enemies longer to cut down the norre, but then the mril clusters, the brethren, and the melody of sahr will vanish from our land forever.” She clamped her hands on Famere’s shoulders. “I know you have doubts about being a seer. But no matter what you think, it’s important you go to the bonding ceremony. I’ve seen that you have a chance to end the war.”
“Me? How?” Her mother’s words stunned her. She couldn’t argue against going to the ceremony when the wyshea seer said she must. Even her father obeyed her mother. Mereeth’s visions came from the sahr, the energy connecting all living things, and gave voice to Beloved’s wishes. “What can I do?” she murmured.
“It’s unclear, but you can’t ignore the two omens from this morning.” Mereeth’s eyes sought hers. “What scares you, Fam?”
She stared at the ground, unable to focus. “That father will die in battle, and you’ll run into battle and die too.”
“How long have you been afraid of this?”
“After Goflin lost his parents.”
“Three years. I should have talked to you.” Mereeth’s fingers gently slid from Famere’s shoulders to her hands. “Dar has my visions and grayblade to keep him safe.”
“What about my vision of the battle? It had to come from Beloved too. Why would the goddess tell us two different things?”
“Your vision is a warning that Darkas will make sure doesn’t come true. There’s more, Fam.” From her life-pouch, Mereeth withdrew a thin, small gray stone shaped like a triangle with rounded corners. Smooth marks on one side glowed faintly with sahr. A strip of woven grass ran through a single hole in one of the corners, forming a necklace. She placed the warm stone in Famere’s palm. “Promise to wear stone tester tonight as a symbol for our people.”
“Why?” Her mouth was dry.
“I can only tell you that it’s important to your father and me.”
Her mother never refused to answer her questions, but Famere said, “All right, Mother.” Not even the cooing suu at her neck could calm her.
5
She of Two Shadows
Famere raced through the forest with Mereeth and Grandfather Toash. She couldn’t put aside her vision of a battle and her mother’s words. Smaller healing leaves covered her wound, which was already knitting closed, and she had left the suu behind in the cave, along with her childhood. Half of her hair was braided with a grass weave, the other half loose on her back.
Mereeth’s lithe arms and legs moved smoothly, effortlessly, her oiled, jade skin scented with wildflower perfume, her dark green hair flowing over her shoulders. Moving like a whisper through the woods, she left no trace in the soil beneath her feet. Famere dreamed about matching her mother’s ability someday.
Toash’s and Mereeth’s bonded wolves ran beside them, and two daggers hung in woven sheaths from Toash’s waist belt. One-hundred-sixty years old, his arms were still knotted muscle and a long braid of silver hair ran down his back. A retired warrior, he was greatly respected. Famere felt safer running with him.
As they raced, Toash said, “We have to hurry.”
They left the cliffs in the distance, flowing in and out of several small valleys, past Sparkling Lake, its tranquil blue surface mirroring the dusk. Ghostly white trees grew throughout the forest, and massive norre rose like specters in the dim light, their sap singing its sweet melody to them. Several times they
passed small herds of grazers, including sharpies—large animals with four slightly curved, sharp horns sticking out from their heads.
Occasionally, wolf brethren blurred through the trees, alert for the enemy as they kept vigil. Famere’s worries about a battle finally relaxed. No enemy could enter their woods and surprise them with their wolves patrolling it. Her mother was right. Her vision was a warning.
They ran deep into mrilwood until Toash stopped them at the edge of a meadow running north-south to the horizons. The scent of spring grass filled the breeze. Famere drank it with deep breaths. A black owl floated down the length of the meadow, hunting mice, and a small long-eared meadow cat made several leaps above the grass as it chased prey.
Along the border of the woods, blending with the grass, thousands of adult wyshea waited with their wolf-bonds. The bonding youths stood among them. Famere examined the line on either side of her, but couldn’t spot Goflin. Looking more carefully, she still didn’t find him and it unsettled her.
Standing stiffly beside Mereeth, she waited as three dreamlike images drifted out of the trees toward them. Darkas, Ison, and Song. Ison’s proud expression made her yearn to be in his arms, to have his whispered words in her ear, his lips on hers. To feel safe.
Song reached Famere first, pulling her in close, her thin arms wrapping around her. “This is the last time you’ll be young, Fam. Tonight you become a wyshea sun.”
Famere looked at her uncertainly, her thoughts jumbled. “Blessings, Grandmother.”
Song smiled and moved beside Toash to hold his hand.
Darkas smiled and rested a hand on Famere's shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Fam,” he said.
“Blessings, Dar.” She couldn’t smile back, her face taut.
Walking up to her, Ison kissed her cheek and whispered, “Our lives change tonight, Fam.”
Some of the tension in her arms eased. Ison’s sharp-featured face and emerald skin were oiled, his long hair loose on his powerful shoulders. His eyes showed confidence. She sensed that his secret somehow gave him strength and she wanted to know what it was, believing it could help her too.
She watched Darkas stride into the meadow, his black wolf-bond, Drur, beside him. When her father reached the center, he drew grayblade and held it high. Longer than all other throwing knives, the black dagger gleamed with silver which gave it a slightly gray tinge.
Wyshea Shadows Page 5