Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  She lifted her wrists so that moonlight gleamed across the heavy bracelets at her wrists. Rifflet seemed to think this an invitation. Wriggling free of Tenma, he glided through the air and landed in her hands.

  “Wow,” Tenma whispered. “He flew.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that.” Lilya caressed the little dragon’s back. “You don’t need wings to fly?”

  Rifflet peeped in a pleased way.

  They continued along, and Lilya decided it was her turn to ask something. “What’s your classification?”

  “I haven’t formally declared one.”

  At his age? “I didn’t think you could graduate without one.”

  “It’s easiest if you think of me as an unregistered reaver.” Tenma ambled along, hands in the back pockets of his grubby jeans. “Ever since I graduated from New Saga, I’ve been traveling. Going different places, meeting all kinds of people, and making a lot of really ugly pots.”

  Lilya laughed. “Is there something you’re good at?”

  “Tending.” He offered a small shrug. “I like tending.”

  She nodded. “My papka does, too.”

  “I know.” Tenma favored her with a lopsided smile. “Michael-sensei was my teacher for a while. So … what’s your classification.”

  Lilya kind of wished he hadn’t asked. “Beacon,” she sighed.

  His hand strayed to her shoulder, just a light touch. “Strange. I thought the beacon must be a different sister. You give nothing away.”

  “Precautions.” She tapped his hand. “Reavers aren’t supposed to be able to sense other reavers.”

  “I do a lot of things I’m not supposed to do.” Tenma lifted both hands. “Sorry for being strange.”

  Lilya decided to answer more than he’d asked. “They sealed me. That’s why you can’t find me. That’s why no one can find me.”

  Then she told him about Radiance’s silly plan and her day with Glint. Tenma’s steps lagged to a stop, as if walking might keep him from listening well. He was all smiles and nods, with questions that had her spilling out more of the story. All the way up to her discovery of Rifflet.

  “Should we stop by Zisa’s and see if Sinder’s awake?” he offered.

  “It’s late.”

  “He’s Amaranthine,” Tenma pointed out. “And don’t you think he’ll want a look at your new friend?”

  So she let him lead her to the little house beyond Waaseyaa’s.

  Tapping on the door, he opened it partway and quietly called, “Is everyone decent?”

  “By whose standards?” sang out a familiar voice. Zisa appeared, wreathed in smiles.

  Kyrie skidded in his haste to reach her side. “Lilya?”

  Inside, Timur was lofting crystals. In their soft light, she could tell that Kyrie had been in bed with Sinder and Timur. Hurrying forward, her big brother quietly demanded, “Trouble?”

  “Peace.” Tenma’s posture matched his words, which helped to calm everyone. “Lilya-chan has a question for Sinder.”

  The dragon grumbled something, and Mikoto left the other bed to offer his arm. Sinder shook his head and stayed on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll hold audience from here, if you don’t mind.”

  Kyrie caught Lilya’s hand, pulling her around Zisa and drawing her inside. “Damsel was hurt, but Timur is a good healer.”

  Timur reached for her but pulled his hands back when Rifflet lifted his head. “Sinder?” he called. “Are you seeing this?”

  “Can’t be.” Sinder looked from Lilya to Rifflet with an expression of utter bewilderment. “That’s a wind dragon.”

  “Is that what he’s called?” It was nice to have a proper term.

  “They’re extinct.”

  Lilya knew better, and she could tell Sinder did, too. His wonderment only multiplied when Rifflet’s voice chimed sweetly in both their minds. Damsel.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Secret Apprentice

  Ginkgo had been so sure that Dad was joking when he referred to this summer as his eldest son’s proving journey. A bad joke, at that, given the monumental disaster that had been Argent Mettlebright’s first foray into the wider world.

  Betrayal. Capture. Enslavement.

  Looking back on all those dreadful memories, Ginkgo often wondered how Dad had managed to survive. Except … now that things were better, he thought he knew the answer. Argent had toughed it out because he’d had a kid to protect. All those centuries. More than a millennium. He’d dug deep and kept going because his son needed him to.

  Maybe it was easier to see now because Ginkgo felt the same way about Michael’s and Sansa’s kids. His first brush with a real family. His first time really belonging. They’d quietly encouraged the attachment, and he’d taken every last one of them to his heart.

  Darya, Timur, Isla, Annika, Lilya, and Vanya may have been born into Rilka’s hands, but she’d promptly handed them off to him. Like an honorary uncle. Or a big brother. Not until later did he learn that it was an actual thing. Fostering.

  Their kids were his in every way that mattered.

  So he understood, now, just how far a parent would go for their child. And that scared him more than anything. Because Kyrie was Dad’s in every way that mattered.

  The worldwide threat that the rogue represented was intensely personal to Argent. Sure, that murderous dragon kept eluding the trackers, but what were years compared to millennia? Argent Mettlebright knew how to dig deep and keep going. He wouldn’t stop until he stopped Kyrie’s sire.

  All without Ginkgo. Or maybe it was fairer to say, without endangering Ginkgo.

  Unless this really was a proving journey. Maybe he’d go home better equipped and able to help. Somehow.

  Chasing Salali through the treetops, Ginkgo drummed up the courage to ask, “Are you my mentor?”

  “Up to you.” The squirrel crouched on a limb and waited until Ginkgo settled beside him. “Not everyone wants this sort of thing getting out.”

  “Because I’m a crosser?”

  Salali snorted.

  “Is it a clan thing? Am I not supposed to learn the squirrel clan’s secrets?”

  “Closer.” He tipped his hat back and grinned. “People like you and I don’t usually advertise the tools in our kit.”

  “So I’d lose the element of surprise if folks found out I’d picked up some seriously squirrely tricks.”

  Salali offered his hand. “Traditional secrecy aside, this is an apprenticeship. I’m willing to teach you everything I can. I’m interested in the possibilities represented by your unique heritage.”

  Ginkgo grimaced. “Guinea pig time, huh?”

  “Sensitive on that score?”

  “Can you blame me?”

  Salali sighed. “Untuck your tail, Ginkgo Mettlebright. To me, you represent untapped potential. I’d like to see if there are any new tricks up your sleeve. Do you want an advocate to make sure I don’t take unfair advantage of our arrangement?”

  “Is that usual?”

  “Common enough, and quite useful in our case.” With a faint smirk, he said, “I recommend Hannick Alpenglow.”

  Ginkgo recognized the name. “One of the other founders? Why him?”

  “I really couldn’t say.” Salali casually scanned their surroundings. “But as my apprentice, you’ll gain access to the kinds of places I go. Which will undoubtedly please Lord Mettlebright, should you discretely pass along certain details.”

  He wasn’t going to turn down that kind of help. “Want me to call you sensei?”

  Salali tweaked his nose, then pulled something from behind one of Ginkgo’s ears, presenting it with a wink. “Wear this at all times.”

  “Is this so you can keep tabs on me?”

  Salali snorted again.

  A necklace. Holding it up toward the moon’s light, Ginkgo recognized it for the treasure it was. The crystal was nearly colorless, with a faint seam of green at its heart. Slipping the heavy chain over his head, he studied the sigils etched deeply
into the stone’s surface. “This is to keep me safe?”

  “You’re my responsibility, now.” Salali solemnly asked, “May I place a sigil on you?”

  What to say? Trust for trust was a good way to begin. But he knew better than most that it could lead to betrayal, capture, and enslavement. Voice catching, Ginkgo asked, “What for?”

  “You can’t learn from my sigilcraft if you can’t see my sigils.” Salali showed his palms. “I intend to open your eyes. We can wait for Hannick if you have reservations.”

  Ginkgo gave a small shake of his head. “Where do you want it?”

  With an approving little chirr, Salali playfully asked, “Are your feet ticklish?”

  It took a few minutes for the squirrel clansman to complete the intricate pattern on Ginkgo’s heel, but the moment it took, Ginkgo’s view of the world changed.

  Sigils wheeled at regular intervals overhead.

  Networks of hidden crystals sparked with inner light.

  Nocturnal varieties of Ephemera swirled into view.

  Barriers fizzed at trailheads, limiting choices.

  And as he slowly adjusted to the dizzying array of new information, Ginkgo noticed a pattern. The surrounding trees bore a softly gleaming mark. Finding the silvery sigil on the tree in which they’d stopped, he looked to Salali in disbelief. “You named them? All of them?”

  A modest shrug. A faint smirk. “I’m a squirrel. I spend a lot of time in trees.”

  Ginkgo found Waaseyaa dozing in a rocker, Gregor sprawled on his chest. “Was he fussing?”

  Zisa laughed quietly. “Brother has always kept his children close. He knows no other way.”

  Lifting the contented toddler to his own shoulder, Ginkgo nudged Waaseyaa. “Get along to bed, old man.”

  Waaseyaa smiled sleepily. “Welcome back.”

  “Good to be. Thanks for this.”

  “Anytime.”

  As the man eased from the chair and stretched, Zisa swooped in, getting a shoulder under Waaseyaa’s arm. “Bed, bed, bed,” crooned the tree. “I will tuck you in.”

  Waaseyaa chuckled and allowed himself to be led away. “You do not need to fuss.”

  “I know no other way,” retorted his twin.

  Ginkgo slowly swayed his way toward the guest room, but an unexpected sound set his ears quivering.

  A moan? Almost a howl.

  Without stopping to put Gregor to bed, Ginkgo hurried back outside and paused to orient himself. He squinted against the dazzle of sigilcraft that kept Zisa’s existence under wraps. It was going to take a while to get used to all the extra stuff revealed by Salali’s mark on his sole.

  “That wasn’t there before,” he muttered, making his way to a shed on the far side of the tree. It must have been, of course. Probably for a century or more, judging by the vines. But Salali must have hidden it from view for some reason.

  Another halfhearted moan set his hairs on end.

  He tried the door. Not locked.

  Ginkgo’s ears flattened against a whimper that turned to soft keening. Had this been going on every night? Or worse, day and night? Why would anyone sequester an animal here?

  Opening his mouth, he tasted the air, which was close from being closed up. Wolf. Well, probably a dog, given the locale. Not injured, but not happy. The scents finally matched a memory, and he adjusted his hold on Gregor as he hustled to help.

  Planting a hand on the rail of a pen, he launched over, landing lightly in the straw beside a large white Kith who was crying in her sleep.

  “Hey, lady, what’s the matter?” He crouched to rest his free hand atop her head. “Wake up, now. It’s only a dream.”

  He rattled on until she finally roused, her whimpers cutting off with a snarl.

  When she lifted her head to bare her teeth, he ducked low to nuzzle her jaw. “Sorry to wake you, lady, but you were having a bad dream. You need anything? I can get your friends or a healer. Or a drink of water. Or we could keep you company until you fall asleep.”

  The we must have caught her attention. She angled her head to get a better look.

  “This is Gregor. He’s not mine exactly, though I helped raise his daddy.” Scooting back to make it easier for her to see, Ginkgo lofted one of the pocket crystals he carried for nightlights.

  Copper eyes blinked in their glow.

  “Well, now,” he said. “Aren’t you a beauty?”

  Straightening so he could reach, he fondled her ears in the way he knew felt awesome. Her nose bumped his belly, a good reminder of how vulnerable he was, but Ginkgo smiled. It was best to let a wolf—or dog—know that they had the upper hand. She could easily push him back. Or with a single snap, he’d be a goner.

  Instead, she lowered her head to butt his hip, allowing his rough caresses. He explained about his years running with the Elderbough pack and sang his pack nickname. His wolvish wasn’t great, but it earned him an amused huff.

  She nipped his ear.

  “Curious, are you? That’s fine. Everyone is.” Ginkgo wiggled his ears at her. “I’m half fox, which explains the ears. And the tail, for that matter. How about you? If you don’t mind my asking, you look like a wolf, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t part of the dog clan.”

  She snuffled him, then Gregor.

  “Guess it’s not fair to ask questions you can’t answer. Wolf?” he tried.

  Her ears flattened.

  “Dog?”

  Her tail flashed an affirmative.

  “Guess that means you’re related to Glint?” At her soft growl, Ginkgo revised his assumptions. “Right. Sorry. With your coloring, you’d be related to Radiance Starmark.”

  The Kith’s posture remained neutral, which could indicate a snub.

  Ginkgo decided to go all in. Sitting between her forepaws, he leaned back into the thick ruff of fur covering her chest. “Y’know what? How about we hang out with you until morning? It’d do Gregor good to get a feel for a canine. We would have bundled him off for Harmonious to cuddle, but this trip came up, and that dog’s schedule is always ridiculous.”

  More ear nipping. But a quick lick reassured him.

  “If I hang around long enough, will someone come by who can cover your half of the introductions?” He resettled Gregor and reached up to touch her muzzle. “Bet you have a beautiful name.”

  She crooned a few notes.

  “Did you say … frost? Wait. I take it back. If I guess wrong, you’ll be insulted, and my shaky grasp of wolvish nuance will ruin our friendship right from the start.”

  A tongue bathed his cheek.

  “I wonder why you’re here, of all places. I know she-wolves who withdrew into their dens for the last few weeks before whelping.” Ginkgo asked, “Is it getting close to your time?”

  She whined.

  “Hey, it’ll be fine. Better than fine. Pups are almost as cute as kits.” He chuckled. “That’s what my dad used to call me when I was just a squirt. It might have been the only joke he ever made. Or just his version of an endearment. Kit was short for kitsune, which is a kind of fox spirit from folklore.”

  Ginkgo rambled on with no real purpose except to distract her from her troubles.

  “Any chance you were brought in to strengthen bloodlines?”

  That earned him another nipped ear.

  “No offense. It’s just a guess since that happened to a friend of mine. Only he never mentioned it to anyone, and then all the sudden our Kith was having kittens under the kitchen table.” He smiled at the memory. It’d been a fiasco at the time. “Quite the feat, since Minx is considerably larger than the table. At least she spared my couch.”

  A thought occurred.

  “Anyone figured out how many pups you’re carrying?”

  She made a low sound that was decidedly inconclusive.

  “Want me to check?” He stroked her jaw. “I got pretty good at it. Guessed right for both of Minx’s litters.”

  A small lick felt like permission.

  “Okay. Mind the baby
for me.” Ginkgo bundled Gregor in his shirt and nestled him between the Kith’s paws. “I need to push and prod a little, but it shouldn’t hurt. I’ll watch your ears. Flick them back sharp-like, and I’ll stop.”

  She rolled an eye.

  He knelt at her side, petting before adding any pressure. “I’m sure if you’re here, you’re under all kinds of watchful care, so let’s face it. I’m just being nosy.”

  The scents were good. Much of the sadness had faded, leaving the deep, warm, waiting flavors he associated with pregnancy. With half an eye on the disposition of her ears, he kneaded into her side, searching for clues.

  He found one.

  A big one.

  “Hey, you in there,” he called softly. “Are you making your pretty mama wait? Seems to me you’re about ready. Between you and me, she’s ready, too. So no dawdling.”

  Under his hand, the lone pup wriggled, almost like they were trying to get closer.

  “Clever pup. Are you a beauty like your mama? Or as handsome as your da?” Which really should have occurred to him earlier. “Say, lady. Is your mate going to take exception to my being here?”

  She closed her eyes, threw back her head, and opened her mouth in a silent howl.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Ears to Hear

  Mikoto woke to the skitter of tiny feet, only to realize that Kyrie had taken Noble out for him. His apology came out low and hoarse as he rolled from bed. “Thank you for sparing Zisa’s floors, but Noble is my responsibility.”

  The boy glided over and boosted the puppy onto the bed. “I was already awake. I do not need as much sleep as you.”

  “Because you are a crosser?”

  “Because I am a crosser,” Kyrie solemnly confirmed.

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Mikoto was nearly the same height as the boy, who was compelling at close range. His fingers twitched, but he recalled himself and lowered his gaze.

  “Curiosity can be a compliment.” Kyrie carefully picked up Mikoto’s hand and brought it to his face. “Some people need to touch me to be sure I am real.”