Archer went about moving the animals as Khoury settled onto the sledge. He sat and arranged the girl against his chest with his thighs flanking her to keep her from falling off. He draped a second thin blanket over her and closed his arms around her. In a few minutes, her body warmed enough to start shivering and, after a short while of Archer’s driving, she warmed enough to stop. She was so exhausted she was completely oblivious to the world. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had considered sending her off on her own. But even now, he felt uneasy around her. Her presence stirred something in him, something he didn’t want wakened.
ARCHER ROLLED OUT of the meager nest of blankets tucked up against the sledge. The cold predawn air prickled along his skin making him thankful it was early spring—cold, but not deadly. The three of them would have frozen to death that first night if it had been true winter. He looked to the nearby cluster of shaggy humps; no snow covered them this morning. Still, he was hard-pressed to pick out Cara’s tiny form under Gar’s massive head. The bits of gray he could see might have been only shadows. For two nights, while he and Khoury huddled together in the freezing dark, the girl had chosen instead to sleep beneath the chin of the giant beast.
She was probably warmer than they were, but Archer could never have slept that close to its huge maw. As it was, the fact that the creatures were free to roam made him uneasy. Carnivorous and unpredictable, he had seen many a boy mauled by the long claws that lurked beneath the shaggy fur on their paws. The kinship she had with Sidonius’s sledge bears, Gar in particular, was more than strange. The chieftain would be intrigued.
Archer stretched again and shook the chill from his limbs as the sun began to surface in the east. Scanning the terrain, he smiled. Home was close.
They’d had no sign of the sorcerer or his magic in the last two days, but he still hadn’t felt truly safe. With Bear Clan so close, he hoped to put this adventure behind them.
He nudged the captain awake with his foot. “Sunrise, Captain.”
Khoury woke with a growl to instant alertness as usual. His beard had grown in, but his nose was weather burnt and his cheeks gaunt. The captain pushed himself to standing and stretched with an audible pop of joints. “How close?”
“I bet we’re there today.” Archer smiled again. It would be good to be home for a bit.
“Good. I could use some real food,” Khoury muttered as his stomach rumbled loudly. “And an ale.”
“A bath wouldn’t hurt.” Archer pinched his nose for effect.
“Says the man whose stink kills dung flies at ten paces,” the captain retorted.
They shook out the blankets and folded them back on the sledge. The coiled ropes that passed for gear were laid out in clean lines.
When they finished, Khoury sighed and rolled his stiff shoulders. “All right, Archer. Get her up.” He gestured absently to where the bears slept, then turned to take his morning piss in relative privacy.
The captain had been distant about the girl from the start but at least he hadn’t suggested they abandon her again. Archer had grown fond of her shy smile and unexpected courage. She would do well with Bear Clan. They’d look after her when he and the captain rejoined their Swords.
He walked over to the largest mound of white and carefully reached out to shake Cara’s shoulder that was just barely visible under Gar’s chin. “Cara, time to get up.”
One large bearish eye shot open, and the massive head swiveled around. Archer froze as the black nostrils flared to catch his scent. The ears flattened, perked up, and then lay back again. He backed up to a more respectful distance as the girl yawned. She reached up to absently scratch the side of Gar’s throat.
“It’s okay, boy,” she murmured to the bear and rubbed her face into its fur. Then sleepily she said, “Archer, will you do something for me?”
“Maybe.” She clambered to her feet and swayed against Gar for a moment, eyes closed. “Make friends with Gar,” she said.
Of all the things she might ask, he never would have expected that. The first rule every bear driver learned was not to fool yourself into thinking they were your friends. They were more than half-wild and very unpredictable. “Thanks, but no,” he deferred.
“Don’t you like him?”
“I like him fine.”
“Then come here.” She reached out and tugged at his sleeve.
Archer pulled away. “Cara, stop. This is insane.”
“Why?” One of her hands absently rubbed Gar’s head like a dog.
“I’ve seen what they can do to a man, Cara. They’re not pets.”
She frowned, and the bear’s rumble echoed her displeasure. “He’s seen what men can do. Come show him that not all men are cruel.”
She reached out and grabbed his sleeve again. This time Archer followed her gentle pull, not wanting to make a scene. She stood between him and the bear and laid his hand on top of Gar’s head, and gestured for him to scratch as she had been.
He pushed his cold-roughened fingers into the warm soft fur and stroked the giant head, feeling very foolish. Gar’s wide wet nose snuffled the length of his arm. The bear huffed softly and relaxed into Archer’s hand.
He couldn’t help smiling as she leaned down and whispered to Gar, “I told you he was okay. Now, get the others up.”
Gar pushed to his feet and shook himself in a violent furry wave from nose to rump. Then, as unbelievable as it seemed, the bear ambled over to nudge its companions. Archer was convinced Sidonius had charmed the animals somehow. But as long as she had control of them, he wasn’t going to argue.
“Thank you,” she said, “Gar feels better now.”
“Sure.” Archer laughed, shaking his head. “I was making him nervous. So, who’s pulling first today?”
“They’re getting hungry,” she said. “We need to let them eat.”
“Don’t worry. There’s food at the Clan for them, and we should be there by nightfall.”
She nodded, squeezing her lower lip between her teeth in thought. “They’re gonna be grumpy. But I’ll let them know. We should save Gar for later in the day. He’s easier to control.”
“You know them best.”
She whistled to the bears and they ambled over to the sledge, allowing her to harness them with an ease that still fascinated Archer. He noticed Khoury from the corner of his eye, watching her, too. The captain’s face was stony.
He caught Archer staring at him. “You have something to say?”
“Nope. I’m just gonna be glad to see home.”
The small curve of a smile eased Khoury’s face. He took a deep breath. “Me too.” Khoury bent to climb onto the sledge.
Cara climbed on behind to Khoury as Archer whistled to Shona to head out.
The weather held to a thin layer of overcast. Cara had been right; the beasts were unruly, and his arms were sore by the time Cara took her turn. The landscape grew more familiar every mile. By the time the sky began to darken, they had passed from desolate tundra to the pine-forested foothills of the White Mountains whose peaks Archer knew by heart.
Cara was driving when they crested a high ridge and startled a heard of pine elk. Archer and Khoury had to hold tight as Cara fought the now-hungry bears who wanted to give chase.
“Gar, no! Stop!” she scolded as she hauled on the reins. The bears slowed to a halt with a reluctant growl.
The hill’s meadowed slope tilted down to a forested vale with a river cutting through the trees. It split into two smaller streams as it ran southward and at the junction of those two streams stood a rough gray stone taller than any man in the Clan. Archer knew that carved face. It was so ancient that even up close you couldn’t make out anything but the flat wide nose of Borran the Spirit Bear. It was the edge of the Clan lands. Archer was home.
His troubles dissipated like mist. “We’re here,” he said, striding down the slope. Khoury followed, and Cara brought the sledge down after them. Standing at the edge of the easternmost stream, he let the strength of Borran’
s familiar shape sink in.
“What is that?” she asked.
He laughed with the lightness of his heart. “The Guardian of Bear Clan. Hop on. I’ll take us the last little bit.” He strode to the sledge and took the stand. Cara whispered something to Gar’s ear before she climbed on the sledge. Khoury hopped on, too.
Archer guided the bears between the pines along a wet path of scented needles. The snow had melted here, and the bears had to work harder to pull the sledge on its thin snow blades. The path skirted the river before breaking off into the thickening trees. Then it widened and wove around until they came to a clearing. But it was more than just a clearing; it was the center of the Clan.
Over fifty thatched huts nestled among the trees that circled the open area. Near the center of the clearing stood the main gathering hall and the kitchens; to the west was the Gathering Place where stories were told around the firepit. To the east, the smithy crouched, spouting puffs of smoke as the smiths worked the bellows. But most of all Archer welcomed the sight of the crowds. People filled the clearing: men, women, and children, all laughing and talking.
Archer drew in a deep breath of pine smoke and sugar mead, and felt the warmth of homecoming energize him. Shouts circulated as he pulled the bears to a halt just beyond the trees.
“Aedan! Gwenna!” Archer shouted back, waving. Familiar smiles rushed to greet them. The men were similar to Archer in build and girth. Most of the beards were long, and all the heads were shades of gold and red, even the gray-streaked ones. By southern standards the women of Bear Clan would have been considered sturdy but their auburn braids, generous curves, and open smiles were as welcoming as a lit hearth.
Dropping the reins and stepping off the runners, Archer hugged them one by one, large thumping embraces as their loud, boisterous voices chased away the memory of the silent Keep. He laughed, ensconced in the affection of his Clan.
Khoury stood up and greeted the Northerners, too, getting lost amid their bulky height. Archer smiled at how his people welcomed Khoury as one of their own. The captain had made friends in the Clan over the last few years, and Archer saw him really laugh for the first time in months.
“Reid!” The familiar shout was almost a squeak and he turned, smiling so hard his cheeks ached.
“Maura!” He opened his arms to the pretty woman who launched herself at him with a gleeful squeal. He spun her around, remembering how perfectly she fit in his arms.
“I had no idea you’d come back so soon!” She trapped his bearded face in both hands and planted a passionate kiss on his mouth. The taste of sugar mead on her lips and the aroma of baking bread on her cheek squeezed his heart and made him wonder for the hundredth time why he kept leaving.
“Nice to see you too, Maura,” Khoury called over Archer’s shoulder with jovial sarcasm. Archer felt her wave hello without breaking their kiss.
Then Khoury nudged him in the ribs as an older man with a braided beard approached. Archer gently put the woman down but kept one hand possessively on her full hips.
“Chieftain Bradan, the Spirits smile on you.” Archer raised his hand in formal greeting.
“Reid Tarhill, the hearth is lit.” Bradan nodded to Khoury as well. “Well met again, Captain,” he said. His raised hand revealed the symbol of power tattooed on his palm. Behind Archer, Gar huffed a greeting himself.
Archer turned to see the bear focused intently on the chieftain. Cara crouched on the far side of him, staring at the raucous scene with tears bright in her eyes. For the first time he realized how lonely her life must have been, if her story were true.
“Cara,” he said, waving her over to him. “I’d like you to meet Maura. Maura, this is the girl who saved our lives.”
Maura looked at Archer with surprise and then held out welcoming hands to Cara. The pale girl crept out from behind her bear, wide-eyed and trembling. “Thank you for bringing my Archer back,” Maura said. Then unable to contain herself, she drew Cara into a hug, which the girl awkwardly tolerated.
“And Chieftain Bradan,” Archer said. “Bradan, this is Cara.”
Cara swallowed hard and then stammered a, “Hello, Sir.” Then she turned back to Archer. “Where do you let the bears hunt? They’re quite hungry.” She kept her voice low and her eyes focused only on him, her hands nervously clutching each other.
“Hunt?” Archer was confused, and then he laughed. “We feed our bears.”
Cara blushed with embarrassment.
Looking around, he recognized a tall youth leaning against a nearby cart. “Ewan, find a few boys to settle the bears in,” he called. “They’re hungry.”
The boy approached, glancing down his hawkish nose at her. “The pens are pretty full, Archer.” His face was surly, barely covering his adolescent aggravation at being asked to help.
“Then move some around and find these a place.”
“The others are out hunting.”
Cara tugged at his sleeve. “I don’t need his help. Just tell me where they go.”
“She takes care of your bears?” the boy asked with disbelief.
From the looks of it, Ewan’s attitude had improved little over the winter. Archer wanted Cara to feel comfortable with the Clan so he drew himself up to tower over the boy.
“Lady Cara is a superior driver. She could show you boys a thing or two. She can handle the six by herself so just show her where the pens are. And get her whatever she needs.” He grabbed the boy’s arm, leaning close with a stern look. “And be polite.”
“Fine.” The boy remained petulant but bowed slightly to Cara. “My lady, bring your bears this way.”
Bradan raised an eyebrow in her direction as she followed Ewan. “All six alone?”
“Her skill is unprecedented. But I suspect the bears are charmed.”
“Charmed bears. A woman rescuer. It appears you have quite the tale. Come to the hall. You boys can tell me more while you eat.”
“Now you’re talking,” Khoury piped up.
“I’ll have the girl brought to us as soon as she finishes with the beasts,” Bradan added. Archer’s stomach rumbled, reminding him how little they had eaten in the past month. He and Khoury eagerly followed the chieftain across the center of the village.
TENSION DRAINED FROM Khoury’s neck and back. The village looked the same as ever and, if Khoury felt at home anywhere, it was here. Beside him, Archer held Maura’s hand, radiating a youthful happiness as they followed Bradan across the center of the village. His lieutenant confused him. At times, he was so besotted that it was painful to watch and yet in a week or two he invariably would be itching to leave. Not paying close attention to where he was going, Khoury bumped someone, hard.
“Excuse you.” The familiar voice brought a pair of warm eyes beneath silky auburn locks.
“Nalia?” Khoury was surprised to see her, though she was usually the one on his mind when they traveled north. Today, he’d forgotten all about her and, as alluring as she was, the last person he wanted to deal with right now.
“My captain! What a delightful surprise.” Her smile was hungry and her voice husky as she sidled up to him.
“You are lovely as ever.” Khoury bowed slightly and smiled. The languid sensuality that radiated from her warmed him in ways that had nothing to do with the cold. “Unfortunately, I’ve business with Bradan. No time to talk.” He flashed another smile and turned to catch up with the others, cutting off any response.
“I see Nalia remembers you,” Archer said.
“And very fondly, too,” Maura added with a knowing grin. Khoury sighed but didn’t bother to respond. Ever since the Keep, he felt irritable, unsettled and plagued by dreams of his past. What he needed was to get back to work. He kept his face blank and focused on the building ahead of them.
The main hall was a sprawling one-story structure of rough-hewn wood with a common room large enough for the whole village to eat in at once. Its inner darkness, a stark contrast to the bright afternoon, made him temporarily blind
so the first thing he noticed was the smell. The heavy fragrance of herbs and meat made his mouth water. As his eyes adjusted, the common room was exactly as he remembered: Warm, low-ceilinged and busy.
They sat at an empty table while a ruddy-faced woman brought bowls of thick stew and slabs of dark bread. Khoury scooped the stew into his mouth, reveling in its hearty flavor.
Then came large pints of mead, sweet and tart and cold.
“This is the good stuff,” Khoury said. “My eternal thanks for the ‘hospitality’ of your hearth, Bradan.” He toasted the chieftain with his drink, and Archer laughed as they both downed them with pleasure.
“And how are things here?” the captain asked the older man.
“Would be better if you’d stop stealing our best bard.” The older man thumped Archer on the back with affection. “But the hunting was good this year. Trading will be very profitable.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And, as usual, Captain, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I hear there’s a woman here that might put up with you.” Humor tugged at Bradan’s mouth hidden in his beard. “I mean, put you up.”
“Nalia could be persuaded.” Archer smiled.
“If we clean him up a bit.” Maura frowned, judging him nearly inadequate. “Maybe,” she hedged, and then chuckled warmly.
He shook his head at them. “I’ll not be settled that easily, even if Nalia were interested, which you very well know she’s not.”
“Perhaps,” Bradan said, chuckling, “but one of you should take himself a wife. The right woman won’t wait forever.” Bradan tried to fix Archer with a stern look, but the younger man was conveniently intent on his dinner.
The right woman, Khoury knew, was sitting right there—Maura, Bradan’s daughter. Embarrassed by her father’s dig, Khoury watched her press her lips together and hide them in her mead. Though Archer had been reticent about their story, the village gossip was that Archer and Maura had been promised to wed at one time. Then Archer’s father died. Archer had called off the wedding and ventured south with his brother, ending up alone on the losing side of the Barakan War. Why Archer had deserted Maura remained a mystery, especially when it was obvious he still loved her. And Khoury could see she still loved him, too. Each time they visited, she was here waiting, affectionate and hopeful.
Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1) Page 8