by Kay Hooper
“This,” Siri said strongly, “has got to stop!”
Hunter chuckled quietly. “No privacy in an enchanted valley.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Well, I’ve no secrets,” he said innocently.
She frowned at him. “Neither have I.”
She wants a girl first.
“Storm!”
Hunter reached out to take his distracted love’s hand, smiling tenderly. “A girl would be fine with me. As many girls as you like in fact.”
She was suddenly troubled. “The danger in the Summer…”
Since he had considered the problem during odd moments, Hunter offered a practical solution. “We could hide them in the cave with the Unicorns. Or in Bundy’s cave; he’d protect them for you, wouldn’t he?”
She turned startled eyes to him. “It’s so simple,” she said slowly. “It would work—unless we had no warning.”
“The cards would warn you. Granted, it’s not a perfect solution,” he admitted. “If something should happen to both of us…But, Siri, all parents deal with the uncertainties of bringing children into the world. We’ll do the best we can.”
They had reached the cabin, and now both slid from the backs of their mounts. After physical pats and mental thanks, they watched the two Unicorns return to the herd.
“They seem to be giving us privacy at last,” Siri noted, aware of the silence in her mind.
“Good,” Hunter said dryly.
“Just in time for breakfast,” Siri said.
As they went into the cabin, he said suddenly, “I meant to ask you about this tunic. Your father’s?”
“Yes. It fits you well. We should get our other things from the Crystal Pool,” she added idly.
“After breakfast.”
Yes, my love.
With a soft laugh, Hunter drew her close and bent his head to hers. “That’s one mind-voice that sounds familiar,” he whispered, kissing her with a gentleness that swiftly became something else.
Reluctantly, Siri finally murmured, “I thought you wanted breakfast.”
“I want you.”
—
Not the same, but not less.
—
“Can I talk to your mother the way I talk to the Unicorns?” he asked sometime later. They were sitting at the table, Hunter in his chair and Siri in hers, enjoying a very late breakfast.
“Have you tried?”
“No.”
“You won’t know until you do.”
Wondering silently just how to go about reaching a Mermaid, Hunter found that his mind knew. I don’t know your name.
My name is Shauna, Hunter.
Hunter blinked and stared at Siri. “I seem to have reached her.”
Siri nodded, watching him with a smile.
You have a lovely daughter, Shauna.
Thank you.
I love her very much.
I know. Her happiness is mine.
Uncertainly, Hunter voiced a cautious question. I don’t suppose we could meet?
No. Better not. Not yet.
I’m sorry. I only—
Don’t be sorry, Hunter. I am what I am. Take care of her.
You’re not—
Leaving? No. Not now. But you need privacy.
A door closed in his mind.
Hunter drew a long breath. “She seems…so sad.”
“Mermaids live always with their curse,” Siri reminded quietly. “But don’t be depressed for her. Despite everything, the Merpeople are a happy race. They love life.”
He nodded slightly. “When will she return to her people?”
“When Summer is over. She needs the protection of the deep sea in Winter.”
“She remains here in Summer in case you need her?”
“So I believe. She says her visits give Bundy something to guard.”
Hunter’s thoughts, concerned as they were with a mother’s love for her child, shifted in perspective. “Siri, about our children. Would our daughter be Keeper after you?” He didn’t like to think of a time “after” Siri, but needed to ask.
“No, I don’t think so.” She frowned, thoughtful. “After today, I can’t be sure of anything, but the Keeper of the Unicorns has always been the child of Mermaid and man. Our children will be welcome here, but another will be Keeper after me.”
“Will our children inherit the mind-touch ability?”
“It’s likely. Unless you and I cancel each other out and they end up being psi-null.”
Shaking his head, he said, “Has it occurred to you that any offspring of ours will be an unusual mixture? You’re the daughter of a Mermaid—”
“And you’re the son of a king,” she finished softly.
Hunter looked at her a bit restlessly. “I’d like to know how Storm knew that.” He reflected for a moment. “On second thought, perhaps I wouldn’t like to know.”
“It seems your destiny was here,” Siri said, rising from the table and going to get his backpack from the hidden cupboard. She carried the pack to the table, laying it before Hunter and reclaiming her chair. “I’d forgotten until this morning, but I put this away for you that first day.”
“I thought it was destroyed,” he said slowly, unfastening the straps and opening the pack.
“No. A bit battered, as you can see, but whole.” She watched him, seeing him steel himself oddly before reaching into the pack. And she wondered what, besides his conscious Quest, had driven him from the kingdom he had been born to rule. There was more, her awareness of fate told her that. He had been meant to come here, meant to find her and his myths and his people’s lost knowledge; there was a reason for it all.
Hunter ignored the jumble of clothing and dried provisions inside the pack. He searched with one hand, seeking with touch rather than sight, until his fingers closed about a ring of cold metal. He pulled it from the pack and sat for a moment turning it absently, his gaze on it the accustomed one of long familiarity.
But Siri had never seen such a thing before, and stared at the ring in fascination. It was large to fit a man’s finger and shone dimly with the dull glow of gold. The shank was wide, and set securely atop it was a carved stone. The stone, unlike any Siri had ever seen, was not one color but rather a myriad of shades. Black, red, green, purple, it seemed to reflect each color at once as it was turned in the strong hand holding it. The carving was enigmatic, curiously unformed, but it bit deeply into the stone to form a definite symbol that not even her Well of Knowledge offered to define.
“The symbol of your house?” she asked curiously.
Still gazing, unseeing, at the ring, Hunter shook his head. “No. Not really. It’s ancient. A puzzle.” He looked across at her with a sudden, rueful smile. “My interest in legends and myths comes naturally, beloved, considering that my own family history is riddled with both. Even some things as peculiar and unbelievable as your valley.”
“And you were taught—”
“Told. As such things are traditional in my family, the legends are passed from each generation to the next. Most, of course, are simple tales of courage or daring or enterprise, of ancestors whose actions shaped the destiny of the family. Some tales, however, are puzzles. Like this ring. It’s a secret thing. My father died before I was born, and although my mother was his second wife and his first wife was also expecting his child, he gave the ring to her and asked that she pass it to me should something happen to him. My mother took me out into the forest one day when I was little more than a child. She gave me this ring, which was not to be worn but only kept safe. And she told me of a legend which made no sense to me—a tale which has never faded from my mind. As if the telling locked it inside me in some manner I could never understand.”
“Like my Well of Knowledge,” she suggested.
He nodded, then stirred restlessly, his gaze dropping to the ring. “I’ve often thought,” he murmured, “that I was the wrong son to give this to for safekeeping, that my half brother should have taken it. His mother was
our father’s first wife, after all. But I was officially firstborn, and my mother insisted that my father wanted me to have it, and that the ring was mine.”
Siri waited and listened quietly, sensing that Hunter was carefully probing his own past, his memories, triumphs, and disappointments, seeking to assemble a puzzle that had been only disjointed pieces until now.
He stirred again. “It’s an…impossible tale. Its roots lie too deeply in ancient times to retain any shreds of truth. Or so I’ve always believed. Now, I’m not so certain of that. And a part of me must have believed, because I’ve never worn it and always kept it safe. Only since entering this valley has it been out of my possession and out of my mind.”
“It’s a talisman?” she guessed softly.
“Of a sort. Supposedly, there is something protective or lucky about it. It was given long, long ago to the oldest ancestor my family claims from their new beginning. From a time when they were wrenching a civilization from a hostile world, using only the primitive means they had chosen to keep. The ancestor began as a soldier, and his name was Hunter.”
Siri felt a curious suspension, vaguely aware that something, some memory or sliver of knowledge, had sat up alertly in her mind.
Hunter went on musingly. “I’m the only one of his descendants to bear his name. My mother told me that I was so named because the Wisewoman who attended my birth insisted. And my mother, wanting to avoid any taint of bad luck for her firstborn, agreed. But the name wore heavily on my shoulders after I was given the ring.”
When he remained silent for a long moment, Siri prompted gently, “The first Hunter?”
Sighing, Hunter pulled his mind away from the faint detour it had taken unbidden, concentrating on following the spiraling trail of legend and reality toward some truth, some knowledge he only dimly recognized. “As I said, he began as a soldier. But he lived in violent times; it isn’t easy to build a civilization with primitive tools and a diverse shipload of people. They were warring times, and a man may carve his own destiny during such an era in the history of a world. He wrought a kingdom with his wits and his sword, and held its reins in iron hands. And he was a good ruler, a wise ruler.
“With his kingdom at last peaceful, he began thinking of a successor, a hand and heart to guide when his own finally withered. Some unnamed compulsion drove him to travel far from his kingdom to seek a bride. There was much of that world unexplored, and he traveled far beyond the boundaries of what he knew, searching for a place he could not put a name to.”
Almost hypnotized, Siri realized that Hunter’s very words were ancient ones, that this “legend” had indeed been locked within his mind in careful words. This tale, she knew, had not changed in the telling for untold generations. Like her own beginnings as Keeper, it lay more than ten thousand years in the past. And the alert, waiting part of her mind voiced a calm recognition of truth.
“The king was accompanied only by the captain of his armies,” Hunter went on. “When he and his companion came upon a towering mountain, he realized that he had found his journey’s end. They rode their andars—creatures native to that world trained to carry riders—as far as they were able, and when they were forced to dismount, he left his companion behind to stay with the creatures and went on climbing alone. It took him days to reach the summit, but the goal was more than worth the effort. At the summit he discovered a plateau unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was forested with tall, graceful trees, and there were peaceful glades and sparkling streams.
“And a race of people lived there. They were not of the powerful, thickly set people he ruled; despite the world’s high gravity, these beings were tall and slender, graceful in their strength and wise beyond his knowing. They lived in templelike buildings more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his travels. He was welcomed by them calmly and graciously, bidden to remain as long as he desired. Their king was a very old but still incredibly powerful man, with a flowing silver beard and ancient green eyes.
“The first Hunter remained there for a time. Their cool, shaded gardens soothed his restless spirit, and the wisdom of their conversation fascinated him. They knew…so much. And there was one in particular he sought out, finding in her gentle manner a balm and an odd strength.
“She was called Athene. Her skin was fair, her eyes green, and her hair black as darkness itself. She was serene and gentle, and the brusque soldier-king found a peace he had never before known in her company. He learned gentleness from her, the rough edges of him smoothed by her touch. He fell in love with her, and dared to ask the ruler of that place for her hand.
“The ruler bade him ask Athene herself and return to him with her answer, and Hunter did so. She answered him with calm certainty, saying that she would leave her mountaintop home for his kingdom, but warned him that her ruler would demand a price for her hand. Hunter felt that no price could be too costly for his love, and returned to the ruler to convey Athene’s acceptance of his suit.
“The old ruler indeed demanded a price. He produced a ring.” Hunter looked down at the bauble in his hand. “This ring. It would bring good luck to the family, he said, but there was a great deal more to it than the simplicity of a talisman. The ruler told him that there would come a time when the child of Hunter would be required to accept a task great with danger. The ring, he said, was called Omega, and Omega would summon when the time came. Omega was to be held but never worn until the summons, and it would summon only the firstborn of Hunter.
“Hunter was a man in love. Though reluctant to think of his firstborn on a dangerous quest, he was a soldier and king, and knew that there would be danger for his offspring, quest or no. He accepted the ring and the responsibility it entailed. And he carried his bride from the mighty summit of her mountaintop home and far away to his kingdom.”
After long moments of silence, Siri said very softly, “His firstborn was never summoned.” It wasn’t a question.
Hunter looked at her. “No. Never summoned. After many long years, the soldier-king realized that the price he had paid was more complicated than he had known. He was wise enough to realize the promise involved all of his blood, and honorable enough—and grateful enough—to be determined that his promise to the old ruler be kept. It was his queen he went to for advice, as he had often done over the years. She advised him to pass on the ring and the promise, and to make certain as much as possible that the original promise was honored. So the ring was passed from firstborn to firstborn and never worn but only kept safe. Until it came to me.”
“And when it came to you?” she questioned softly.
Hunter took a deep breath and set the ring on the table, staring down at it broodingly. “When it came to me, I thought it an amusing tale. Then. But I’ve wondered these last years. And I’ve never forgotten. Promises and quests. My Quest taught me a great deal. I came to realize just how badly my world needed…something. I felt I’d find the answers I was looking for on other worlds.”
“And you did. You found the myths. And more than that, you found the roots of your people, their history. When they understand how nearly they came to destroying themselves, it will help them, Hunter.”
He smiled a little. “I have to believe that.” Then he looked at the ring. “But this…I was told that nothing confined Omega to the soil of one world, but only to the blood of one family. It’s still my responsibility to pass it along. I had to take it with me when I left Rubicon.”
“On your Quest for a throne?”
He looked at her and sighed. “As I said, I was officially firstborn. But my half brother’s birth hour was uncertain; there were no witnesses to the birth. Jason, our uncle, had no offspring of his own, and announced that he would decide in time which of us was to rule. But he died of a fever before he could make his decision known. The Council, unwilling to decide, announced that the next King would chosen by means of a Quest. The first of us to return with proof that Unicorns did—or did not—exist would occupy the throne.”
“And your half brother?”
“I haven’t seen him since we left Rubicon.” His tone was abstracted; he looked back down at the ring.
Siri was quiet for a long time, watching him. He hadn’t realized, she saw. Hadn’t put all the pieces together. She reached carefully for words. “And if you had always been meant to leave your world? If your Quest for a throne was always intended to become something more?”
He looked at her, a little puzzled. “I’ve learned to respect your ideas of Fate since coming to this valley. But—”
“You heard Storm,” she interrupted firmly. “The Unicorns knew that a prince would come; they were told so long ago by the Guardians. They knew you for that prince instantly—why else would they have trusted you as they did? Why else would Cloud have led me to you when you were so badly injured? Why else did he refuse to be hidden with the others when we knew you were coming?”
“There are countless princes—”
“But only one prince named Hunter,” she insisted, her voice very soft.
“What has that to do with it?”
“Everything.” She unlocked her hands and reached across the table to touch the ring with one finger. “This. And green eyes, Hunter.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your destiny and mine were intertwined long ago. Set for us in ancient times, when the Guardians traveled from one world to another. They lived on this world once, this Earth. They were a playful, human kind of a race, but very wise. And they lived for all to see on mountaintops within graceful temples. They could—and did—summon the lightning and the wind out of sorely tried tempers, and sometimes interfered in the lives of humans.”
He was frowning, trying to follow her. “Part of legend, of myth. I remember some of the stories. So?”
“Don’t you see the parallels? When you talked to me once about myth, you mentioned some of the ancient Earth myths. The gods and goddesses, remember?”
“Yes.” A suddenly arrested expression flickered in his eyes. “Do you mean that the first Hunter—”
“The Guardians travel,” she said softly. “They live for a time on one world, then move on to another. Is it so impossible to believe they would have visited the adopted world where some of your race struggled to build their civilization again?”