Again the drums sounded, closer and deeper, resonating in the thick ivory trunks of the evergreens around them. The very ground shivered with the beat, snow sifting and crusts of ice cracking. Birds took to the air, calling as they dispersed, leaving the band utterly alone.
The pounding of heavy footfalls came closer, the gentle shushing increasing until it sounded like a stampede of hooves. The splintering of wood came with them, and Tahn imagined small trees being snapped like kindling beneath the girth of towering Bar’dyn. Movement caught Tahn’s eye, and he looked up in time to see a treetop thirty strides north disappear. The Quiet were crashing down upon them; the air was taut with the expectation of violence and death.
Then, into the clearing just to the left of Vendanj and Grant, came six Bar’dyn. The exile waited patiently in the small area he’d cleared. The Sheason smote his hands together, calling a whirlwind from the ground that twisted ice and snow and the hard, cold rocks and earth beneath it into a maelstrom. He then thrust both hands at the coming Quietgiven. The whirlwind leapt at the Bar’dyn. Three were drawn into the tangle of snow, stone, and ice, and lifted from their feet, tumbling over as they were battered and slashed.
Two Given turned on Grant, the remaining one fixing his eye on Tahn and heading for the center of the clearing. As it did, six more Bar’dyn emerged at a full run from the east. But these were different; they wore charcoal tunics with a grey insignia in the center of their chest: a single tree whose roots spread and grew downward to become several smaller, withered trees. These six each carried a heavy pike in one hand and a spiked shield in the other.
Sutter turned on the six as Tahn loosed his first arrow at the leftmost Given. With his shield, the Bar’dyn batted Tahn’s arrow away as though it were a fly.
Braethen began to dash to Vendanj’s side, but the Sheason shouted at him to stand with Sutter against their flank.
The three Bar’dyn caught in Vendanj’s swirl had crashed down in a dead heap. The two spoiling for Grant came within the exile’s circle. They fanned out quickly to opposite sides of the man, but before they could calculate a strike, Grant drew a small hidden knife from his belt and threw it not at the first Bar’dyn’s face, but at its ankle. Its howl thundered terrible and low. Tahn seemed to feel it in his gut. The second Bar’dyn, taking advantage of Grant’s first attack choice, simply threw itself at the exile, and went tumbling with him to the ground.
Vendanj turned his attention to the dark-clad six, and began gesturing at them with first one hand, then the other. Bits of bark dislodged from tree trunks and hurtled toward Bar’dyn eyes, as sharp and menacing as tiny daggers. Two lost their sight immediately. The others pushed against the onslaught, covering their faces as they came.
The single Bar’dyn heading for Tahn slowed as it came near Mira. It drew a second sword, and swung each in tight, quick, looping figures, its arms working together so that a wall of whistling blades began to advance on the Far.
Mira did something Tahn had never seen her do before. She simply lifted one sword to eye level, and dropped it. Surprise brought the Bar’dyn’s impressive display to a pause. The Far sprang, dropped low, and thrust her sword with savage intent. The sound of shattered bone cracked in the bright morning air as Mira’s blade found the Bar’dyn’s knee. It staggered backward, its guttural scream erupting in the air, until Mira leapt and buried her blade in its open maw.
A mighty flail hit Sutter. The spiked ball lifted him into the air and sent him heavily to the ground. The attacking Bar’dyn lifted its weapon to deal a death blow. In an instant, Tahn let fly an arrow at full draw. The missile caught the Bar’dyn in the neck. Nearly before the first arrow had found its home, he’d released a second, and then a third. All three hit the Bar’dyn in the same place, driving it backward.
A second Bar’dyn leapt at Sutter, who lay in the snow. Before it could strike, a cry filled the air. “I am I!”
The call, utterly primal and inarguable, raised the hair on Tahn’s neck. Braethen surged into the space between Sutter and the Given, whipping a blow at the creature in a vicious, tight arc. His sword hummed in the air, glowing faintly in the morning light. Then the steel found home, and burned the flesh of the beast as it tore a deep gash in its chest.
Grant escaped the Bar’dyn that had wrestled him to the ground, and as he did, Vendanj raised his hands in a grand motion, sending the creature skyward thirty strides. Then the Sheason fell to the ground, breathing heavily in the snow.
The two remaining Given ran past Braethen and headed for Wendra. Their dark tunics marked a dread contrast to the white powder snow they kicked up ahead of them. Nothing lay between them and Tahn’s sister, and Tahn knew he would not reach her in time.
He nocked another arrow. From his bowstring to the Bar’dyn was but a moment, but when his arrow struck its side it hardly slowed the beast.
Wendra pulled Penit behind her and stared savagely at the Given as they bore down upon her. She then opened her mouth, as though to speak or sing. But alarm lit in her face as she rasped out something completely devoid of vocal timbre. She tried again, but also began to back away, pushing Penit along.
Tahn fired again, this time missing completely. A horrible rasping sound rose from his sister’s throat as she pushed harder to vocalize something. Nothing could be heard but the pounding of feet.
In a final effort, Wendra turned to Penit, trying to force him to flee. The child shook his head. Wendra slapped him hard, and pushed him in a safe direction. Penit rubbed his face twice, and began to sprint away. Wendra wheeled about and headed in another direction, hoping to draw the Bar’dyn’s attention from the boy, to preserve him with the lure of her own life. But as she dashed aside, the two Given rushed past her in pursuit of Penit. Tahn could not understand why, but the race was on. Only Mira could catch up to them. Tahn shouted to the Far, who instantly saw the dilemma and gave chase. In eight strides she had matched the Bar’dyn’s distance, and looked like she would rescue Penit.
Wendra stood helpless, watching Mira streak toward the boy. One of the Bar’dyn pursuing Penit turned suddenly to meet the Far. Caught unaware, Mira nearly ran into the beast. A menacing grin spread on the thick, rough features of the Given as it knocked Mira down and planted a foot on her arm, kicking the sword from her other hand.
In unison, Tahn and Wendra lifted their cries: “No!” He for Mira, she for the child.
Vendanj lay spent in the bright snow several paces away.
Grant, Sutter, and Braethen started to plow through the snow toward them. But they were too far away.
Only Tahn …
He raised his bow and nocked an arrow.
He drew down on the Bar’dyn pursing Penit, then shifted his aim to the Given hovering over the woman he loved. The moment lengthened, and the world grew dreadfully still. Plumes of labored breath hung in the air, billowing with unnatural lethargy.
Tahn looked at the exhausted Sheason, his face gaunt and as pale as the snow, then to his sister, who’d taken the boy as her own. Wendra gave Tahn a pleading look, and his mind filled with the memory of his own suspended action when another child had been taken from her.
The memory seared him still, despite her forgiveness.
Not the son of Balatin. Not Tahn.
He had not truly stood passive in her moment of need, had he?
But Tahn also thought of the face in Sutter’s visions, Mira’s face. Nails had seen the haunted, anguished visage of a woman burned by the League the night before her death; at least, he thought he had. Sutter believed it, and so Tahn believed it.
He spoke his words in his mind as cries and yells sounded all around him. He recalled Rolen Standing for him in a dank prison cell, and was instantly reminded that he was now accountable for his choices.
Then Tahn narrowed his aim, and between the towering pines and over the fallen snow, he released his shot.
The arrow sailed true, slicing the brittle morning air, and whistling toward its target. As it struck down the
Bar’dyn, Wendra raised a cry to end all the Skies known to her. The Given pinning Mira fell back, releasing the Far. A moment later, Penit was caught and whisked away into the forest.
Tahn dropped to his knees, tears burning his eyes, though he could hear none of the scream coming from his own throat. All sound and light dissolved as well, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He pitched forward into the snow, but caught the tortured look on his sister’s countenance shortly before the comforting cold of the ice soothed his face, as he buried in the snow both his head and his own cries of anguish.
* * *
The quiet sound of sobs came to him sometime later. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the close, impassive face of the Sheason, and over his shoulder, Mira. The Far wore a mixed look of gratitude and disappointment. Vendanj helped Tahn sit up, where he could see the stoic expressions on the faces of the others. Only Sutter’s eyes held no indictment. Tahn wiped the snow from his cheeks and unhanded the bow he’d been clenching with distaste.
“You made your choice, Tahn.” The Sheason fixed Tahn with an unrelenting gaze. “You must own it. Do not disclaim it by relinquishing your weapon.”
Tahn looked away at his friends. Braethen stood with one arm heavily bandaged and blood on his neck. The sodalist looked too weary to stand, swaying as he attempted to steady himself with his sword. Sutter winced every few moments and finally sat on a large rock to roll up his pant leg, which revealed a purpled bruise that ran from his calf to his knee. Nails then placed tentative fingers on the crown of his head, and pulled them away bloody. He shook his head but gave a sardonic smile before wincing again. The exile seemed to have no injuries and kept his distance.
Then Tahn looked at Wendra, collapsed at the far side of the clearing. She wept bitterly, but softly, hiding her face deep in her garments. The sound rasped from her bruised throat. The pitiful scene surrounding Tahn found its emblem in the covered face of a crying woman. He’d chosen to save Mira over the life a child, the child Wendra had virtually claimed as her own. The sheen of sunlight off the snow and the newness and delight it represented only made Tahn’s abjectness darker, more bitter.
Putting words to it, Vendanj said low and even, “It was a selfish draw.”
Tahn snapped his head in the direction of the Sheason. Anger flared in him, and he was momentarily grateful for it as it replaced the ache growing in him for Wendra and the lost boy, the ache for having failed her twice. What did those words mean, I draw with the strength … if when he should most adhere to them, he chose instead to serve himself.
And yet, looking at Mira, he was not sorry. The ache within ebbed further still as he briefly imagined the possibility that they could one day be together, that he could escape the pull of waking dawns, and she the vigil she seemed forever to keep. The thought calmed him even in his deepest grief.
“Sutter, Braethen, gather the horses,” Vendanj ordered. “Be quick and quiet. If they’ve wandered too far, leave them to their instincts.” Then the Sheason turned sharp eyes back to Tahn. “I will accept part of the blame,” he began, “for not telling you something that might have prevented your mistaken arrow.”
“Mistaken arrow!” Tahn repeated, incredulous. He focused on his anger, preferring it to the shame he felt when he heard Wendra’s cries. “I know the child was young, but he was of little use to us in reaching Tillinghast. Mira is Far, a skilled fighter; her contribution outweighs his loss.” The words rang out in the cold stillness, and brought Wendra’s face from the depths of her cowl.
“You bastard,” she said coldly. “Will you weigh the life of a child against anything? What man lifts his arms in the defense of a boy or his family and fails even to act? No son of Balatin, I tell you!” Her tears streaked over cheeks etched hard with hatred and indignation. “I’ve no dislike for Mira, but what choice was it to let an innocent be taken by the hands of Quietgiven. You are a coward!” she screamed with her damaged voice. “You disgrace me; you disgrace your father!” Her words plumed into the cold mountain air. “If I had voice for it, I’d sing the curse of a lifetime down upon you!”
Then Wendra began to weep more openly, her hand outstretched toward Tahn as if conveying apology, her own wearied spirit and confusion and loss.
Tahn turned back to Vendanj, who exhaled slowly, then began to explain. “Tahn, what I kept back was the importance of the child as a contingency against your own misstep. I feared we would not reach the Heights of Restoration before you stood to pass your melura years and take upon you your own will. By fortunate coincidence, the child came along with us, deeply protected by his youth against the consequences of his choices. His innocence, Tahn, was his value, besides the value of any life.”
Tahn shook his head, failing to understand.
“He was to be a sacrifice, Tahn, to answer for a poor choice on your part, should you do so before reaching Tillinghast. Not a blood sacrifice. But to Penit we could have transferred the stain of that choice. His purity meant he could accept—and thus cleanse you of—whatever mistake you made that might have led you down a false path.”
Understanding dawned in Tahn’s mind. “Like shooting to preserve my own desire rather than releasing as the Will allows.”
Vendanj nodded. “But in this choice, Tahn, you not only brought the stain of selfishness upon you, you also let slip the vessel to which we would have transferred that stain to reclaim you from a state of blemish.” Vendanj drew back and looked about him, appraising the situation. When at last his eyes rested again on Tahn, he reiterated in a soft, defeated voice, “It was a selfish draw.”
The Sheason crawled a few strides away and rested his back against a rock, appearing to fall deep into thought and weariness himself, leaving Tahn staring at Mira. The Far returned his gaze for several long moments, her grey eyes sympathetic but also sorrowful. She took a small step and touched Vendanj’s shoulder lightly. They shared a look that seemed to communicate much in but a moment, ending with a mutual nod. Mira then drew near to Tahn, and knelt in the snow beside him. She searched one eye, then the other. Without a sound, she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
It was all the reward Tahn needed.
Then she began to speak. “Melura is a word from the covenant tongue, the language of the Charter, meaning First Inheritance. It is the providence of the Far to abide in this condition all their short life.” She gave Tahn a reassuring look.
And in that moment, the realization of what she was about to suggest came upon him.
“As one who stands spotless in her First Inheritance, I offer to accept the stain you brought upon yourself by seeking to preserve my life.”
The creak of snow could be heard as Grant wheeled about and finally showed his face to the scene behind him, his impassive, sun-worn visage drawn taut with concern and amazement. He partially raised one hand, but to no apparent purpose, before dropping it again to his sword. Tahn didn’t know how to respond, and shot Vendanj a look. The Sheason gave no indication of approval or disagreement. He appeared to wait on Tahn’s reply. Tahn stole a look at Wendra, whose face showed a bitter judgment.
Looking back into Mira’s smooth face and clean eyes, he searched for direction from within. “What would this mean for you?”
“It is not yours to count the cost, Tahn. It is only yours to accept or deny my gift.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “But there is no alternative. If you will not allow the transfer of this transgression to me, then all we’ve done thus far will have been in vain. You cannot go to Restoration burdened…”
Her words trailed off without an end, leaving Tahn doubting that even Mira could be completely honest with him. It pained him that his love for her had brought her to such a choice. Sutter and Braethen were nowhere to be seen, on an errand Tahn thought the Sheason had put them to precisely to take them away from here. Vendanj, his eyes unblinking, offered no council. He wished Balatin were here; he’d surely speak wisdom to Tahn. But for the first time in his memory, he felt utterly alone.
Unable
to decide, he simply said, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Then do as I ask, Tahn, and let me do this for you, for all of us.”
“Isn’t it selfish of me to be delivered from my own mistake?”
“You have not sought this of me,” Mira said, “I offer it freely.” She leaned closer, and noted his reluctance with a kind smile. The sight of it eased Tahn’s concern, if only slightly. But perceiving his need to know more, she explained, “In accepting this stain, I forfeit my First Inheritance.”
Tahn’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t let you give back the blessing bestowed on you by the Noble Ones so that you can bear the mark for something I have done.”
She smiled again her slight, nearly imperceptible smile. “People often do such things for those they care about.”
The revelation spread through Tahn and made him certain he could not ask this of her. As he began to protest, she interrupted.
“There isn’t time to deliberate or act feebly. You feel that you are in the dark, but I ask you to have courage and trust me. I know that this is right.”
Tahn thought of his compulsion to await sunrise, of his restored memory, and of the things he and Sutter had shared on their way to Recityv.
“Trust me,” Mira repeated, “and believe that this must be done.”
Again Tahn began to argue. This time Mira put her finger to his mouth.
“Tahn, even if you were a stranger traveling to Tillinghast to answer the threat of the Quiet, I would insist.”
He stared into her grey eyes a long time.
“It is so much easier that you are not,” she finished.
Tahn felt like he was again unable to defend someone he loved, as he had in his Hollows home at the start of all this madness. But the truth was, he did trust Mira. Slowly, he acquiesced with but a simple nod.
Vendanj stood and came to them. He placed Tahn’s hands on Mira’s and bound them with a silken cord he produced from his mantle. Clasping their shared grip in his hands, the Sheason began to chant cryptic phrases. Warmth spread up Tahn’s arm, and light radiated around the intersection of their four hands even brighter than the sun shining off the snow below it. In a flash, Tahn saw his moment of choice. He saw it from high above the clearing where he now sat, his bow drawn toward the Bar’dyn. He watched in terrible clarity the release of his arrow. The moment came like a knot in his throat, suffocating him. He felt keenly his deliberate betrayal of trust in the appropriate shot. And while Mira had been spared, he realized something more: The new repercussions in the life of the child, Penit, were also his.
The Unremembered: Book One of The Vault of Heaven Page 89