The Forbidden

by Lori Holmes

  Fierce shouts rose above the storm outside, getting closer. More bird calls went up and more answered, swelling in number. Only, those calls had never come from any bird. They were hunting calls. Rebaa raged against her own stupidity. They had been being watched the entire time. Now the Cro were ready to exact their revenge for the loss of their leader. And they couldn’t have timed it more perfectly.

  Fighting for concentration, Rebaa searched the energies of the earth outside, hoping for something, anything. There was nothing. All life had gone into hiding to wait out the storm. Maybe that too had been a part of the Cro’s design. Rebaa was helpless. Their cunning never ceased to amaze her. Sweat poured from her brow along with bitter tears. She had failed her son. Failed him before he had even taken his first breath.

  Nen sat stiffly beside her, face dark and grim as the shouts intensified. Their enemy knew they were getting close to their target. The Thal woman stared down at Rebaa, convulsing in the throes of child birth, then turned her face to the walled entrance, before gazing down at Rebaa again. Dropping to her knees and put her hands on Rebaa’s belly. “Gor cha tarhe, ki juaan,” she murmured softly.

  She stood up, drawing away, her face becoming a fierce mask of cold, hard determination. The look in her eyes sent Rebaa into a panic.

  “Nen?” she asked desperately, though she already knew the terrible answer. She had seen that look on the day her world had shattered. “Nen. Don’t. Stay with me!”

  Nen shook her head. “I vow tarhe, for little strong one,” she said quietly. “If I stay, they find us. I go. Can lead them away. Maybe in snow, can escape. Only hope.” She moved to pick up her spear.

  “No! Nen!” Rebaa cried, gasping and trying to rise to prevent her. She fell back when her body would not obey. “Nen! Please. Stay with me! I need you! We just have to stay quiet. Maybe they’ll miss us in the storm.” She was frantic. She could not lose Nen, too.

  Again, Nen shook her head, no more moved by Rebaa’s pleas than Juran had been. She was already moving for the cave entrance. “Know where cave is. I have go. Protect baby.” She began pulling rocks away from the blocked entrance, just enough for her to slip out into the fractious, stormy night. “Only one who can.”

  “No! Nen!” Rebaa shrieked. But Nen had already begun piling the rocks back into place behind her. She met Rebaa’s eyes across the space between them before replacing the last. The moment stretched as they stared into each others’ faces. One pleading, the other resolute.

  “Shalanaki, Rebaa,” Nen whispered, then the last rock slid into place and she was gone.

  “Nooooo!” Rebaa howled in despair. “Nen! Come back!” But she could think no more as she felt the baby begin to arrive and she had to heave with all her might, instinct driving her to do what she must. The pain went on and on. She doubted that if all of her bones had been broken at once, she could have felt this much pain. Through it all, she kept her teeth stubbornly locked together. She would not scream. She would not make it easy for those beasts to find her. The cries outside faded into the distance. Nen was leading them away. Nen…

  Finally, in blood and fire and the wildness of the night, Rebaa’s son was born.

  * * *

  17

  Reckoning

  Alive.

  Eldrax stood a little distance away from the rest of his men, brooding into the distance. Since Rannac had told him of the company the witch was now keeping, Eldrax had withdrawn into himself, suffering to talk to no one other than to give commands. Rannac had brought them back to the heart of the now tiresome labyrinth of foothills. He vowed once he had the witch, he would never set foot in this forsaken territory again. He had sent scouts on ahead with Rannac to locate and then report back on the comings and goings of the witch and the Thal woman.

  His… mother.

  Eldrax tightened his grip on his spear as he struggled to internalise the knowledge. Soon Rannac would report back with the location of his quarry and then… then what would he do? Such cringing hesitation was unfamiliar to him and he did not like it. His whole life had centered around one thing, the only thing that mattered: becoming the most feared and respected alpha wolf on the Plains. He had learned the hard way that to be anything lesser left one at risk of being devoured and Eldrax would not suffer that. When faced with an enemy, he acted quickly and without remorse, thriving on the kill. Now he had ten good fighting men at his command and two insignificant women standing in his way and he was… afraid.

  Eldrax shifted restlessly, resisting the urge to pace like a cornered animal in front of his men. He was… afraid to see her, afraid that the sight of her would crack his strength and he would fail in his task. Through all the long seasons since his childhood, he had always believed that his cowardly mother was dead. Murzuk had sent Rannac after her to hunt her down and kill her following her betrayal. Eldrax had never known Rannac to fail in obeying his chief or to bring a hunt to completion.

  At first, he had refused to believe that Rannac had been correct in his identification. Even if the older warrior had somehow failed in his task all those seasons ago, Eldrax could not see how a lone, helpless woman could have survived without the protection of a clan. It was impossible and therefore it could not be her. Red hair was common among certain populations of Thals.

  But the doubt had niggled and gnawed away in his stomach until at the last he found he could not continue and see this woman for himself. He had sent Rannac forward instead as a delay and he hated himself for it.

  His desire to possess the witch for his own warred with his need to turn tail and run. It was as though he was that weak, terrified boy again.

  Flashes of memory flickered through his mind, strong hands comforting him after he had fallen and cut his knees, a husky voice that sang to drive away his fears in the night, a flash of red against pale skin, a scent that curled on the edges of his senses.

  Old wounds tore open and he bellowed in agony as he launched his spear at the nearest tree. The haft quivered with the force of the impact. The wind whipped at Eldrax’s own mane of red hair as he sucked in the cold air through his nose. He felt like he was being ripped apart. It was all Rannac’s fault. His anger flared and he latched on to it. Anger was an emotion that Eldrax could understand. He stoked it into a low simmer until it scalded all other sensations away.

  The wind buffeted against him in ever strengthening gusts and moaned through the rocks. He glared at the horizon where dark clouds were gathering. The storm would hit by nightfall. He could see the rest of the men eyeing the growing blackness apprehensively. Eldrax had made them travel light and such a storm could trap them in these hills without shelter for days. Eldrax ignored them.

  Darkness was beginning to fall ahead of the encroaching clouds when a whistle went up, announcing Rannac’s return. Viciously suppressing the leap of dread in his gut, Eldrax thrilled back.

  “Well?” he asked as the scouts appeared.

  Rannac scratched at his tightly bound arm. “They are still there, my chief, both the witch and your mother. They suspect nothing.”

  Eldrax jerked his chin once in acknowledgment then beckoned Rannac close; the man who was responsible for his turmoil. “You were supposed to have killed her,” Eldrax began in a whisper, the low simmer rising with each word. “You told Murzuk she was dead. You told me she was dead.”

  Rannac grew very still beside him. “She… evaded me, my chief,” he said, carefully. “But she was alone, I truly believed the land would claim her as I had not. I did not expect her to survive.”

  “She evaded you?” Eldrax’s voice dripped skepticism. “You never fail, Rannac. You have never failed to bring down your target, that was why Murzuk valued you so much. How is it that you failed with her?”

  The older warrior pressed his lips together and did not answer; instead his eyes flickered to the gathering clouds over Eldrax’s shoulder. “A storm is about to hit these hills,” he murmured in a low voice. “My chief, I advise we abandon this hunt and make for lo
wer ground until it passes.”

  Eldrax silenced him with a cut of his eyes. He rubbed absently at his chest as he brought his face close to Rannac’s ear. “I respect you, Rannac,” he murmured. “You taught me how to fight. You taught me well. But my respect will not protect you. I am not my father. If you fail me or question my decisions, I will cut out your tongue and cast you from the protection of the clan. Understand?”

  Rannac wisely dropped his grey gaze to the ground. “Then what are your orders, my chief?”

  Eldrax looked to the approaching clouds and smiled. He did not see a hindrance there, only an opportunity. Swiftly, he laid his plans; the timing of the storm could not have been more perfect. Murzuk had underestimated the witch and now he was dead. Eldrax would not make the same mistake.

  And the Thal, whoever she was, would not stop him. He forced the weakling doubt from his heart. His mother had abandoned him long ago, if she had lived through all the days of his abuse at the hands of Murzuk, never once trying to save him, then she deserved to die. He yanked his spear from the tree. In his eyes, she was already dead. Nobody would ever stand in the way of what he wanted.

  The wind gusted again, tugging fiercely at Eldrax’s furs and bringing with it the first flakes of snow. More would follow. His resolve hardened like ice, freezing out the last of his hesitation. It was time to claim what was his.

  “Move out.”

  The full force of the storm hit the foothills as Rannac led Eldrax’s raiding party forward. The wind’s voice had grown to a deafening pitch as it threw blinding sheets of snow and ice into their faces. The men thrilled whistles back and forth to one another to keep from getting separated.

  “How much further?” Eldrax shouted to Rannac over the howls of the wind. Ice was forming along the haft of his spear and on the hairs of his furs.

  “I’m… not…, … chief.” The wind snatched at Rannac’s voice and stole it away. “The storm… every… lost.”

  One of the other men stumbled and fell to his knees in the snow. Eldrax could not see who it was but gave them a vicious jab with the butt of his spear, forcing the man back to his feet. His half-Thal blood gave him the advantage in this extreme but he knew his pure Cro followers were not fairing so well. He could not afford for them to perish before he found the witch. He caught Rannac by the back of his furs, spinning him around. “I do not care if the gods themselves brought this storm. Find that-!”

  Someone grabbed his arm, cutting him off. Snarling, he turned on Tanag. The other warrior’s skin was pale and ice was clinging to the hair on his face but he did not back down from Eldrax’s angry gaze. He pointed silently away into the snow.

  Eldrax followed the direction of Tanag’s spear. The blizzard obscured his vision to the point of blindness but in the distance he caught a movement. A dark figure was fleeing as fast as the deepening snow cover would allow.

  “They’re trying to escape!” Eldrax laughed as he watched the dark silhouette struggling against the wind and the treacherous footing. There at last was his prey, flushed out of hiding or maybe attempting to flee towards it. Whatever their plan, they were his. “Hunt them down!”

  Eldrax plunged into the storm. The snow was piling higher, dragging at his feet but he pushed his body on, determined to keep the fleeing figure firmly in his sights. The paths and trails twisted and turned through an increasingly jagged terrain. The hills and cliffs rose higher on all sides. His quarry knew the land well and despite his best effort, the dark silhouette disappeared into the crags, evading them in the storm.

  Eldrax growled. So, you think you’re clever, do you? If they wanted to test his skill as a hunter, then so be it. They were about to lose and lose badly. Eldrax scanned the ground as his men fanned out about him. The falling snow was a hindrance but not an impossibility. Here and there a scuff mark would catch his eye, a stone knocked out of place. The barest of marks that a lesser hunter might have missed were all plain to Eldrax. He loped along eagerly, nostrils flaring. He was close, he could almost smell his prey’s fear.

  A shallow hollow tucked beneath a rock slide drew Eldrax’s eye. Baying, he charged towards it. His prey held nerve only for a moment before they broke cover and ran on into the night. Eldrax boomed a laugh as the chase was rejoined.

  His prey darted this way and that, searching for another bolt hole but Eldrax would not allow it, directing his men to block them at every turn. This was the most diverting hunt he had enjoyed for a long time. He could see his prey was swiftly running out of tricks. And they were growing tired.

  The gap closed.

  Under a low cliff, the figure ahead finally came within range of Eldrax’s spear. He could clearly make out the bulky figure of a Thal. His heart hitched in his chest causing his fingers to twitch upon his weapon. He ached to strike out, to launch the spear and eliminate the object of his uncertainty before he saw a face. But he could not give in to the temptation. The Thal could be carrying the object of his desire and he could not risk losing the witch. He had pushed his warriors to the limit in his desire to possess her. If he failed to return with her now, the first seeds of doubt would be sown against his ability to guide the clan.

  And that would never do.

  It was time to bring this hunt to an end. Whistling a hunting signal, he ordered his men to circle around. They peeled off, loping through the snow, easily overtaking their spent prey, trapping it. The Thal figure slewed to a halt as his men appeared out of the snow-filled darkness before her. She turned quickly, looking for a new route only to find herself surrounded by silent, spear-bearing shadows on all sides.

  Eldrax watched as she snarling like a cornered spear cat, bringing the spear she carried to bear. Rannac was closest and she struck at him. The old warrior wheeled away from the blow, knocking her spear aside with his own. She recovered quickly and gathered herself to launch another attack.

  “You have no hope of escape,” Eldrax called over the wind. He had not deigned to speak Thal words since he was a boy and it felt strange upon his lips, the pronunciations testing his tongue. It mattered not, she understood. At his first word, she ceased in her attack, sure hands trembling upon her weapon.

  Very slowly, the Thal turned and Eldrax felt the world around him stop as black eyes, his own eyes, came to stare him full in the face. More images exploded in his mind, those same eyes gazing at him in adoration when he had lifted his first spear, when he had won his first fight, the protective fire that flared whenever his father approached…

  A soft keening wail went up from the Thal’s throat. The spear dropped from her hands. “Eldrax. My Eldrax…”

  Eldrax could not move, could not speak. Emotions tore at him from all sides but, in the eye of the storm, his heart was numb. Motionless, he watched his mother take a stumbling step towards him, tears freezing on her pale cheeks as they fell.

  “My Eldrax? My baby.”

  “Mother…” As the word slipped from his lips his mind whirled faster, the memories coming sharp and painfully clear.

  Someone was tearing him from the warmth of the strong arms.

  “My baby!”

  “Mama!”

  Her tortured eyes focused on him once and then she was fleeing. She did not look back even as he cried and screamed. “Mother!”

  The eye of the storm passed and Eldrax was at once filled with a terrible fury. She had left him, abandoned him, and now here she was, alive and well after all the passing of the seasons, never once having tried to return and save him. His skin crawled as he grew conscious of every one of his scars, every ache of a healed bone. Cold, he straightened to his full height as she halted, hesitating, just two short strides from where he stood.

  “You are here.” She repeated again, her eyes so familiar, so hated, raked over him. She appeared afraid that he would disappear in a swirl of snow if she so much as blinked. “Eldrax… My Eldrax.”

  “Yes.” His voice held no more warmth than the fractious air tearing around them. “And here you are after all t
his time, mother.” Derision dripped from the last word.

  Her face contracted at his tone. “My son.” A large hand reached forward as though to bridge the gap between them and convince herself that what she was seeing was not an hallucination. Her lips trembled. “How… how much I have…” She appeared lost for words, dazed. “You must have missed me so.” She held out her arms as though expecting him to fall into them.

  Eldrax’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would I miss you, mother,” he hissed. “You let me go and fled. You left me behind to the… mercy of my father.” The terror he had felt in that moment ripped through his chest as fresh as it had on the night she left him. He closed his eyes, locking the memory of her fleeing form in place so as to harden the defensive ice around his heart. “You did not even look back as you abandoned me. You did not care about me. You ran as hard as you could to save your own miserable hide.”

  Horror shot across her face as his words struck like a mortal blow. He took savage pleasure in her pain. “No!” She moaned. “Eldrax. I did not- please, no. I loved you! My sweet one. I tried to keep you but I could not fight them. They would have killed me in front of you. Th-that was something I could n-not let you see.” Her voice cracked.

  “At least it would have proven your love!” Spittle flew from Eldrax’s mouth as he rejected her words. “Instead I was unworthy, too insignificant in your eyes to be worth saving.”

  His mother’s face was carved in the same mask of agony she had worn in his last memory of her. Her hands twisted together in desperation. “No, no. Forgive me. Understand, I had nowhere to go. I-I could barely feed myself. And you were not safe with other Thals.”

  “Yes, best to leave a Forbidden half-breed filth where he would not shame you,” Eldrax snarled. “Well here I am, a man grown, a chief! Am I still a shame to you, mother?”