War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4)

by Meredith Mansfield

  Chapter 55: Undeserved Reward

  Vatar was having a very odd dream. He was walking—stumbling—all around the village at Zeda. Through the Lion Clan, Horse Clan, and Eagle Clan enclaves. Was he looking for something? Or someone? He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He’d gone into the main hut of each clan—which didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t have been allowed in the main huts of the Horse or Eagle Clan, not being a member of those clans. But he clearly . . . well, fuzzily remembered the carvings of all three totem Spirits, even though the only one he’d ever actually seen was the Lion Clan totem.

  There was a blank period . . . one of many. And then the dream continued. Only now he was lying face down on grass mats and someone was poking him in the back with something sharp. And . . . he thought vaguely that Thekila was upset about it. He felt something through their bond, but he was too confused to make out exactly what. He tried to sit up, but someone pushed him back down.

  “Almost done. Lie still.” That was Larad’s voice. Larad was more Pa’s friend than Vatar’s. Why was Larad in his hut? And where was Thekila?

  “Do you think we need to give him some more before we go on?” Ariad’s voice asked.

  Daron’s distinctive chuckle. “I don’t think he can hold any more.”

  He’d just plunged back into one of those blank spaces—or was it that he’d dozed off?—when the erratic ramble around the villages started again. Hands lifted him to his feet, more or less. And he stumbled out into the cool night air, supported on both sides. With an effort, he turned his head. Daron. He swung his head dizzily to the other side. Ariad. Was he still dreaming the same dream or . . .

  “Oof! He’s heavy.” Ariad’s voice again.

  The cool night breeze seemed to help cut through his confusion. Well . . . a little. Vatar sucked in deep breaths of the chilly air, hoping it would help to clear his head. And that would allow him to figure out why he seemed to need Daron’s and Ariad’s help to walk. And where were they going, since this definitely wasn’t the way back to his own hut? And why he didn’t have his tunic on. He’d been wearing his best one, the one with the border of lions and eagles embroidered around the collar that Thekila had made for him. Where had he left it? And why his back felt like he had the worst sunburn of his life. And how had he gotten a sunburn at night, anyway?

  “Where are you taking him?”

  Vatar’s head snapped up at Avaza’s shrill voice. Where were they taking him?

  He squinted to bring Avaza into focus. She wasn’t alone. Some Raven Clan women and men. Quite a few Wolf Clan, mostly men. And even some Bear Clan members stood behind her. He thought he recognized one or two Eagle Clan warriors, as well. Had she gathered them together for some purpose? Vatar wouldn’t put it past her. And it was definitely time to get his head clear in that case.

  Avaza sniffed in disdain. “He’s drunk.”

  Ah, that’s the problem. Not a dream then. Or at least, not all of it.

  “Get out of the way, Avaza,” Ariad said coldly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  Baraz stepped forward to confront Avaza. “Step aside. The chiefs—at my request—have decided to grant Vatar the honor of Pillar of the Tribe.”

  “Him?” Avaza screeched.

  The chill that started in his gut at the words “Pillar of the Tribe” did more to clear Vatar’s head than the night air ever could have. “No.” Vatar tried to force the word out through numb lips and a tongue that seemed oversized and clumsy.

  He shrugged his arms off over Daron’s and Ariad’s shoulders and forced himself to stand upright, swaying slightly. “No,” he repeated more clearly.

  “Vatar, we don’t grant this honor lightly,” said a voice raspy and creaky with age.

  Vatar turned very slowly and carefully to face the oldest chief of the Horse Clan. And all the other Clan chiefs—well, all of them able to walk at the moment. Pa wasn’t there. Of course they’d all have to be present for this ceremony.

  Vatar sucked in another deep breath, trying for clarity. Because the chief was right: this wasn’t an honor to be granted—or refused—lightly. It was breathtaking to have it offered to him. But it was still wrong. And he had to find the right words to say it.

  Vatar bowed to the old chief. Or, at least he tried to. Daron caught his arm before he could pitch forward on his face. And then Thekila was there, holding tight to his chest and supporting his other side. Her touch—or maybe it was something she did through their bond—finally evaporated the fuzziness from the fermented cider.

  “The honor is beyond any words I could offer. But it isn’t mine. It belongs more properly to the men and women we sent to the Overworld over the last days.”

  “Well said, Vatar,” Uncle Bion answered. “But you deserve it, too.”

  Vatar shook his head. “I appreciate beyond measure the honor the chiefs do me. I would not think myself worthy of it if all the Dardani agreed.” He shrugged off Daron’s hand in order to gesture toward Avaza and those gathered behind her. “But they don’t. And it is not the part of a Pillar of the Tribe to sow dissension among the Dardani. Or within any clan. I cannot accept if by doing so I create conflict among our people.”

  Help me not to fall over, he sent through his bond with Thekila as he took a step back toward the Lion Clan enclave and his own hut.

  “You just can’t help making trouble for the joy of it, can you, Avaza?” Ariad said fiercely behind them. “I pity whoever takes you into his hut next.”

  Vatar winced and whispered. “Ouch.”

  “Are you hurt?” Thekila asked.

  “No, just dizzy. But Ariad just made certain that Avaza won’t find another year mate anytime soon.”

  “No. Avaza did that to herself. Ariad just saved some other poor man from being fooled by her appearance,” Thekila whispered ferociously. “Let’s get you where you can lie down for a while.” She grinned. “A long while. You’re going to have quite a headache tomorrow, I think.”

  “One problem at a time. Right now I’m just focused on walking that far without falling over.”

  She looked back over her shoulder. “I tried to tell them you wouldn’t want that as soon as I figured out what was going on. But they were so pleased with themselves, no one would listen to me.”

  ~

  Vatar woke lying face down again. At least this time he was in his own hut. It was quiet. The twins must be outside or with his parents. And Thekila was sitting next to him stroking his back, leaving cool traces where her fingers passed. Probably some of Mother’s healing ointment. That was nice. Or would have been if his head hadn’t been pounding like his hammer striking his anvil. He groaned.

  “Awake?” Thekila asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, let’s get you sitting up, if you can. Your mother brought over some juice mixture—not cider, I checked—that she said would help your head. But you can’t drink it lying on your stomach. And it’ll be a seven-day or two before you can lie on your back.”

  Vatar struggled to sit up. He started to lean against the inside wall of the hut, but flinched back as soon as his back touched the sod. “What’s it look like?” he asked to distract himself from the itch.

  Thekila handed him the cup of juice. He obediently took a sip. It was laced with a bit of pauver juice, by the taste. Not enough to send him back to sleep, but enough to dull the pain and probably keep him from wanting to try anything too athletic—like standing up. Except . . . he was going to have to do that and stumble outside very soon. Or burst.

  Thekila scooted around so she could see his back. “Most of it looks like a bare tree. A trunk and six branches. On your right shoulder, there’s a bird . . . an eagle, I think. But not like Theklan’s tattoo, exactly.”

  “More like Ariad’s?” Vatar asked, closing his eyes against either the dim light or the answer. He wasn’t sure which.

  “Yes, now you mention it. Like a smaller version of Ariad’s. The eagle looks like it’s jus
t taken off from one of those branches.”

  The hero’s version of the Eagle Clan tattoo. Not something I deserve at all.

  Thekila went on, “Diagonally down from that, there’s a rearing horse. Looks a little strange perched on a tree branch, actually.”

  The Horse Clan hero’s tattoo. Of course they’d use those versions for this honor. And now I’ve been effectively inducted into two more clans.

  “And then diagonally down from that, below another branch, there’s a smaller version of your Lion Clan tattoo. The other three branches are empty.” She touched a spot just to the side of one of the fiercest itches. “Would they have put the other clan tattoos on the other branches if you hadn’t stopped them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this mean you belong to the Horse and Eagle Clans, too, now?”

  “Sort of.”

  She chuckled. “I wonder whether your eagle form will be normal-sized now. Do you think you should try a horse shape change? Later . . . when we get back to Caere. Just to see what happens.”

  Vatar took another sip of the juice. “I don’t want to even think about magic right now. My head hurts almost as bad as it did when I nearly burned out my Talent.”

  Thekila squeezed his shoulder, above the tattoo. “I’m sure it does. Well, at least now you know some of your people appreciate what you’ve done for them.”

  Vatar shook his head—and regretted it. “What we did. All of us. And I didn’t hear anyone offering you—or Kiara or Theklan—the same honor. Anyway, it doesn’t mean anything if half the tribe is still afraid of me.”

  “It means something,” Thekila disagreed. “If nothing else, it means you still have a place among the Dardani. I know you were doubting that.”

  “I suppose. But once all of the cleanup is done, I don’t think we’ll be coming back here anyway. At least, not anytime soon.” The thought made him sick—sicker—but he just didn’t feel he could face the Dardani again. Not for a long time, anyway.

  “What about your promise to train more Dardani smiths?”

  “Those that still want to train with me will just have to come to Caere. They’ll get better training there anyway. And we even have a Dardani hut so they can feel right at home.”

  Chapter 56: New Bonds

  Kiara’s fingers toyed with her feathered armband as she strode across the village. The armband she’d made while Theklan was away being trained, before she knew about the other girl. Sharila. The beaded strap bore the charging lion, symbol of her clan, but three eagle feathers, for Theklan’s clan, dangled from it. She’d intended it as a coming home present for Theklan and then hidden it away at the bottom of her belongings. Last night, she’d decided it was time to give it to him after all.

  The battle . . . his wound . . . had finally clarified her feelings for him. The anger and hurt were still there—much reduced, but still there—but she’d learned that, despite all that, she still loved Theklan. And that was what mattered most.

  Kiara saw Theklan walking slowly and a bit unsteadily across the large open area between the clan enclaves. Anger surged through her. He shouldn’t be left alone like that. Someone should be by him in case he fell or needed help. She took a deep breath and walked towards him.

  Theklan smiled at the sight of her, but his smile faded a little at whatever expression he saw on her face. “Kiara, I gather I owe you my life. You know you shouldn’t have. You were the important one. But I appreciate it.”

  Kiara swung into step beside him and subtly guided their footsteps away from the village center. “I couldn’t very well let my teacher die, could I? The Dardani need us—both of us—to protect them. You have to show me how to do that.”

  Theklan winced, fumbling with something in his hand, turning it over and over in his closed fist.

  “How’s your side?” she asked. “Does it hurt much?”

  He shrugged stiffly. “Only if I move wrong. The Healers haven’t let me up to walk around much. I slipped away from them today, while they thought I was taking a nap.”

  Kiara’s stomach churned with worry for him. “Should you be up?”

  His smile brightened. “There’s a difference of opinion on that. I think so. Most of the Healers don’t. They keep cackling about blood loss. But I couldn’t just lie there looking at the inside of a sod hut any longer. I needed air and a wider view.”

  Kiara smiled in sympathy. It was exactly how she’d felt when they’d been trying to make her learn to meditate. “I know what you mean.” She changed direction slightly and led him toward a log just at the edge of the village. “But maybe you should sit down. There’s a good view of the plains from here.”

  Theklan grunted, but took her suggestion. Kiara stood uncertainly for a minute and then sat beside him.

  She fumbled with her armband, untying it. It was usually the man’s place to make this offer, but Kiara’d never set great store by tradition for its own sake. And she’d had enough of waiting. She’d waited for Theklan to tell that other girl to leave him alone, waited for her own anger to cool. Waited until he almost died defending her people. It was more than enough waiting. If she had to be the one to offer a token of courtship, so be it.

  Theklan wasn’t looking at her as he continued to roll something around in his closed hand. They turned to each other at almost the same instant.

  Kiara held out the armband. “Theklan, will you take this and keep it for me?”

  Theklan began only a beat after her, holding out the object he’d been playing with. “Kiara, I’d like you to keep this for me.”

  Theklan looked down at the armband in her hand, nonplussed for a moment. He started laughing, but stopped abruptly, with his hand to his side. “Ow!” He shook his head. “I should have known you’d do something like this.”

  Theklan took the eagle-feather armband from her hand, admiring it. “It’s perfect. I’ll keep it for you. But only if you’ll take this.”

  Kiara looked at the object he held out. A small metal amulet shaped like a lioness with an eagle sheltered between her paws hung on a leather thong. The detail was exquisite. She smiled. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

  “I made it, from the spear point they took out of my ribs. I had to use magic to shape it, since I never let Vatar teach me any metal craft.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “I’ll keep it for you.” The traditional reply, at least.

  Kiara leaned forward and kissed him. Considering Theklan’s condition, she meant it only to be a promise of things to come, but Theklan held her close against him. His touch sent shivers across her skin. Except for the need to breathe, she might have stayed that way forever. When at last they broke it off, she was flushed, breathless, and slightly dizzy. She had to lean against Theklan for support.

  Theklan was flushed and breathless, too. He clutched his side as he drew in shallow breaths, but he grinned at her. “Whoa. I’m still recovering, you know.”

  Kiara laughed and put her head on his good shoulder.

  “I never thought I’d be saying this, but we need to slow down a little,” Theklan said. “I’m in no shape to start digging sod for our own hut, yet.”

  “I can dig.”

  Theklan gave her shoulder a little shake. “This is one traditional chore you will please leave to me. Unless you want to make me a laughingstock in front of my clan brothers.”

  Kiara hunched a little and made a rude noise. Her thoughts about the opinion of her clan brothers and sisters had changed dramatically since the battle.

  Theklan held her tighter. “I’ve been insulated by the Healers. Has it been very bad?”

  She shrugged, shrinking a little closer to him. “It’s not so bad since the shaman took all the credit for what we did. He did at least acknowledge us for drawing the enemy away from him.”

  “He did what?”

  “It’s okay. He made the arrangements with Vatar. To keep the Dardani from completely ostracizing us. Well, mostly. It didn’t do his reputation any ha
rm, either, of course. And it did make it easier. Even if almost no one else knows what we really did.” Though it wouldn’t hurt if his clan brothers knew what a hero Theklan really was. And Vatar, too, of course.

  Theklan tucked that stray lock—which had mostly grown back—behind her ear again. “You’ll always be a hero to me, Lioness.”

  She laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  They sat quietly for a moment. Kiara eventually broke the silence. “I’m still allergic to Uza leaf, you know.”

  Theklan kissed the top of her head. “That’s all right. In fact, it makes me your perfect partner.”

  She sat up where she could see his face. “Why is that?”

  “You won’t need Uza leaf with me. The Valson have other methods to accomplish the same thing.”

  “What methods?”

  “Our magic. I’ll show you. Later, when I’m completely healed and we’re both ready.”

  Epilogue

  Six Years Later:

  Vatar shook his head as he looked around the bustling little settlement. There was an inn, now. Not much of an inn by Caerean standards, true. But this waterhole used to be deserted. Well, except when he and Arcas rode through on their way to or from Zeda. Now it was a crossroads.

  There was a small forge, too—mostly for the shoeing of horses rather than actual blacksmith’s work. Though it looked as if the journeyman smith made a few blades and tools on the side. A couple of years ago, so Arcas said, the Merchants’ Guild had had to firmly put down the entrepreneur who wanted to charge for use of the waterhole. But a few other vendors had set up semi-permanent booths to supply the needs of the wagons and pack trains.