“I don’t care about the laws!” he roared. “I’m not leaving her to die.”
“Finn, I can’t let you take her. I’m sorry.”
“I’d like to see you try to stop me.” Shifting her weight against his chest, she felt light as a feather in his arms; her body nestled perfectly against his as if she’d been made to fit in his arms, made to be carried that way by him and only him.
“Finn…”
He was already walking, northwest toward Drekne. He’d gone several paces before his sister’s frantic footsteps quickly fell in behind him. Rue may have been his elder, but she was half his size, and when her hand came down on his shoulder to try and spin him around, he jerked it off and rounded to face her with fire in his eyes.
“Don’t, Rue. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”
“What? You’re going to challenge me over some… some stranger? Some half-dead girl? I can’t let you take her into the village. It is forbidden. The council…”
“Damn the council.”
“Damn the council? Damn the council?” She brought her hand down again, gently this time, silent pleading in her bright silver eyes as she tried to sympathize with his plight. “I know you like to rile them up, to get under their skin and show them you’re not a pup to be pushed around anymore, but this… Finn, this is madness. They will put you in silver chains and drag you into exile. Not even Viln will be able to save you this time.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” she shrieked. “How can you not care? About your own brother, about me? There will be consequences for this.”
“You wouldn’t understand.” No one would understand; they never did.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t understand. This girl, who is she to you? No one, Finn. A human, a stranger.”
“She’s not human,” he muttered, but Rue hadn’t heard him.
“I will not let you throw away your life here with the pack for some stranger.”
“You can’t stop me,” he shrugged her hand away again. “I’d advise you not to try.”
Spinning on the ball of his foot, he turned from her and marched toward the village, ignoring her attempts to persuade him from within. Blocking the sound of her voice from his head was impossible; the same blood ran through their veins, bonded and connected them, but just because he could hear her inside his head didn’t mean he was going to listen.
He didn’t stop to dress himself when he happened upon the marsh banks where they’d left their clothes, and he didn’t wait for Rue when she stopped either. He just kept walking, ignoring the prickle of gooseflesh that dotted his skin every time the cold wind shifted. Storming into the hall completely naked with a stranger in his arms certainly wouldn’t be the oddest thing he’d ever done, but just thinking about the potential looks on the elders’ faces when he did twitched the soft edges of his mouth into a grin.
They didn’t call him Mad Finn the Reckless for nothing.
If anything, what he was about to do would probably cement that name into the precious annals of U’lfer history forever. He could almost hear Bolthon the Keeper muttering the words beneath his breath as he wrote them: “On the eleventh day of the thirteenth month in the four-hundred and forty-third year of our Ladies, Mad Finn the Reckless battered through the doors of Llorveth’s Great Hall, stark naked and raving mad. In his arms he held a girl, whom he said was not a girl. Clearly the last threads of sanity tying him to our world have been severed and on the morrow the Elder Council will lead him to the borders of this land in silver chains to his permanent exile.”
Exile.
They made it sound like a punishment, but severing himself from the restrictive bonds that tied him to their outdated laws and traditions would be a gods damned blessing as far as he was concerned. Freedom, the ability to wander wherever his feet took him, never having to answer to someone else’s whims ever again. It sounded like bliss.
He would miss Viln though, even if his older brother was the biggest pain in his backside, and Rue—nag as she was—but the sea could rise to swallow the rest of them for all he cared.
The girl in his arms was special, something different, something new. New to him, anyway.
Rhiorna would know what she was. Rhiorna would heal her and make her whole again and when she opened her eyes for the first time, that special girl that belonged to him, he would be there. She would see him, maybe she would know him the way he knew her from the very first moment he’d caught her scent on the wind.
Jasmine, white lavender flowers…
“Mine,” he whispered.
Maybe they would cast her out with him, and the two of them could wander, see the world together.
He really was mad.
His throat constricted against the impulse to swallow that dreaded realization. All the things they said about him, about there being something wrong in his head… Gods, they were true, but if madness was the gateway to freedom, he would gladly walk through it.
The throaty rasp of his laughter echoed on the wind, and he swore he could feel his sister rolling her eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
Vilnjar stood at the foot of the stranger’s bed, studying her and listening to the droll chorus of his younger brother’s sleeping breath as it mingled with her every exhale. Together they breathed as one, drawing air, releasing it. It was an uncanny sound, a disturbing display Viln was obviously putting far too much thought into, but everything else around him was chaos and he needed a distraction.
Little brother was treading very dangerous ground, and while there was nothing really new about that fact, Mad Finn the Reckless had finally gone too far. The entire village was in an uproar and there was little more than a thin line between permanent exile and stability.
At the end of the War of Silence, the U’lfer were tucked away into their corner of the world and forgotten. Outsiders were forbidden by the king from crossing into their lands, and they were not allowed to leave. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t welcome outsiders with open arms, but none dared risk the wrath of the king, and so for one to have made the journey across their border and as far as their village hall was a chaotic and terrifying ordeal.
At any moment they all expected King Aelfric to come barging through their doors with a thousand men to wipe the last of their people from the face of the world. The U’lfer did not welcome outsiders into their den, did not expose themselves to the world beyond their borders because it was forbidden and they certainly didn’t display such obvious signs of infatuation for strangers not of the blood.
It was the way of things, yet no amount of protest from their sister could convince Finn to leave the strange girl to her doomed fate in the clearing.
His brother was on the verge of being cast out, and for what? An outsider. At that moment the only thing sparing him from exile was the unexpected sound of Rhiorna the Silent Seer’s voice at the council table. Rhiorna once channeled the wisdom of Llorveth himself, communing directly with the Lord of the Wild Hunt, and some said that was what drove her blind and mute in the end. Llorveth stole her vision and her voice because she hadn’t used it to save his children during the War of Silence. His punishment left behind nothing but an old shell that hadn’t uttered a single word in more than ten years. At least that was what everyone believed. Vilnjar always thought if the god was going to punish her, he might have been more timely about it, and he had his suspicions about whether or not she was actually blind and mute. Suspicions he felt were fully confirmed the night his brother brought doom into their halls.
When Finn burst through the doors naked as his name day, the battered girl in his arms hung slack as a corpse. Arms dangling, head lolling against his forearm, it was impossible to tell at first if her hair was truly so bright a shade of red, or if the blood from the blow she’d taken to the head accounted for most of that vibrant color. The porcelain oval of her young face was etched in hundreds of scrapes and painted black and blue with bruises and dark streams of cl
otting blood. The bottoms of her bare feet were raw and bleeding, tiny bits of stone embedded so deep into the flesh, Viln felt his toes curl sympathetically inside his boots.
She’d been running for her life, and from the looks of her she put up one hell of a fight before whatever foe she’d been facing ran her down. Little more than a child of sixteen or seventeen, a flicker of shame rippled through Vilnjar when he scanned the faces of the council and saw how closely his thoughts aligned with theirs. Had his brother finally crossed the line? Were the atrocities committed unto that poor soul in his arms Finn’s fault?
Amidst a sea of gasps and protest, Finn marched straight toward Rhiorna’s seat at the table and held the body toward her like a child with a broken toy.
“Fix her.”
A calamity of voices rose from the silence.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“You dare bring an outsider into our hall?”
“Finn, have you lost your mind?”
“I tried to stop him.” Rue burst through the doors several steps behind him, so out of breath she could barely speak. She bent at the waist and positioned her hands on her knees, the loose black locks of her hair falling in to frame her face. “He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to stop him.”
“Oh, he’s done it now. I knew it was only a matter of time.” Normally such a response from Cobin would have at least elicited a glare from his headstrong brother, but Vilnjar had been watching. Finn’s lower lip trembled between his teeth, and his large, glassy blue eyes were fixated on Rhiorna as if he hadn’t heard Cobin speak at all. “Call in the guard and have him restrained and then cart him off to a holding cell until judgment can be passed.”
At first no one moved, but the combination of their voices joined in mumbles of surprise.
“Silence!” The seer’s voice echoed through the hall, stifling every whisper until its residents collectively held their tongues and their breath.
The crone rose from her chair at the head of the table with a clatter of movement that startled everyone in the room. Ten years of silence broken by a single word, and the powerful rasp of her voice commanded obedience. Without aid, she stumbled several steps across the hall, hands outstretched and reaching until they cradled the young woman’s face. The mottled folds of her wrinkled face smoothed with love, and though her old, white eyes had not seen within the realm of the physical world for a decade, Vilnjar swore the haze was clearing and the oracle could see that girl.
“She has come,” Rhiorna said softly. “I knew she would. Llorveth promised this day.” Her gnarled old hands moved over the girl’s face, as if tenderly memorizing every feature, every wound beneath her fingertips. “To the temple with her, my boy. Edla, follow us and bring water.”
Without question the healer snapped to action at Rhiorna’s command, and as the seer led Finn through the hall the silent council found their stifled voices again.
“He is beyond saving,” Cobin feigned lament, but as Vilnjar turned his wary gaze across the table he could clearly see there was no remorse in the man’s eyes. “Mad Finn the Reckless has broken the last of our laws that he will ever break. He must be cast out.”
“We don’t even know the whole story,” Viln protested, looking toward Rue for support. His sister lowered her head almost shamefully. “Rhiorna obviously knows that girl. She was expecting her…”
“What of the story is there to know, Vilnjar? I realize he is your brother, and you would say anything to protect him, but he has put us in danger for the last time.” Cobin conveniently ignored his final statements.
“Danger?” The laugh that escaped Vilnjar surprised even him, for it was arrogant and strong, a challenge to those above him on the council and for a moment their silent response spoke volumes. He was right to question Cobin’s quick condemnation, but none of them would speak on his behalf. They never did. “From a half-dead little girl? She hardly looked dangerous to me.”
“Regardless of whether she is dangerous or not, she should not be here. You know the laws and your brother has broken them. The council will meet on the morrow to determine his fate.”
“The vote must be unanimous in order to cast him out.” Vilnjar pushed his chair away from the table and rose from his seat. “You know I’ll never vote against him.”
“Yes,” Cobin leered, a sickening grin that signaled nausea in Vilnjar’s stomach. “But perhaps on this account your vote will not be necessary. I know our laws better than anyone here, and there are always loopholes, my boy,” he paused to linger on that one word, boy. Vilnjar hadn’t been a boy in at least ten years, but not one among them ever let him forget that at eight and twenty, he was the youngest member on the council. “Special circumstances often require us to bend the laws to better suit our needs, and it is… unseemly for a member of one’s own family to preside over one’s exiling.”
“And you call him mad,” Viln seethed. “All because he will not conform to your will. What justice is there in changing laws to suit your purposes?”
“He brought an outsider into our hall!” Cobin shouted, his rigid voice echoing through the vast and silent hall.
Rue actually gasped, her quick intake of breath the only sound to break the silence until Cobin spoke again.
“He is unstable, unpredictable and no amount of pleading on his behalf will ever change those facts. No,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry, Vilnjar, but your brother has violated this sanctuary for the last time. He must be cast out.”
He wasn’t sorry. From the look he wore he was obviously enjoying the unfolding of events.
“We’ll just see about that.” The legs of his chair scraped the stone floor beneath them as he pushed away from the table and rose.
Ignoring their glares he stormed from the hall and into the corridor leading to the healer’s temple. Rue didn’t follow, and for a moment he was glad because he’d tasked her with keeping an eye on their little brother during a hunt he should never have been on, and once again Finn proved too strong for even her to handle.
He could hear the counsel’s quiet mutters already plotting for a way around the only seat at that table with the power to keep Mad Finn the Reckless from being exiled. Their voices faded into whispers as he made his way toward the temple, where the healer’s quarters were housed. His feet did not stop until he arrived in the doorway of the small room just two doors down from the silent temple of Llorveth.
For a moment he stood transfixed, watching as Rhiorna moved like a woman possessed. She and Edla the Healer combined the power of their magic to mend the girl’s external wounds. Both the sound and vision were mesmerizing, the vibrant essence of a million chiming bells ringing in spirals of vivid light all around the girl’s body. The luminescence cast upon her skin made her look angelic, otherworldly, peaceful. He immediately felt drawn to her, as if the singing of that magic rang through her blood and called to him, whispered silent pleas into his soul to protect her, keep her safe.
Tilting his head, he swore he had seen her face before, but from where he could not remember. Shaking off the sense that he knew her, his gaze fell on his younger brother.
Finn hovered behind the two women, still naked and completely oblivious to his own exposure. The sound of him coughing into his broad, bare shoulder snapped Vilnjar from that peaceful frame of mind and he turned a narrow, bitter stare to meet his brother’s eyes.
“For the love of the Ladies, Finn, put some clothes on.”
“As soon as I know she’s okay.”
“Now, Finn.”
“There’s a set of robes in that chest over there,” Edla gestured with a quick jerk of head toward a trunk on the opposite side of the room. “They were Groland’s, so they should fit even you.”
With a sigh, Finn broke away from their healing to do as he was told, but the look he shot in his brother’s direction was a silent reminder that he was only doing it because he wanted to, not because he’d been told.
Since the moment he was old enough to co
ntrol his transformations, Finn had done what he wanted, when he wanted to do it and not even the threat of being caged, beaten or exiled had ever been enough to deter him.
The trunk opened and closed, the rustling sound of fabric over skin followed, and within seconds he resumed his place behind the healers looking more ridiculous in those robes than he had in just his skin. Edla was right, they did fit him, but Finn had not been a man made to wear the simple garb of a priest. He was warrior-born, standing almost two heads taller than Viln and with shoulders twice as broad. He reminded him of their father, a man Finn had never known. A fierce force to be reckoned with, the softness of his transfixed stare contradicted that vision and for a moment Viln could see there was more than just concern in his brother’s eyes.
Viln recognized that look; his brother was infatuated with the stranger. Dangerously infatuated if his actions were to be the judge of how far he was willing to go for someone he didn’t even know.
“What were you thinking?” he finally snapped through clenched teeth, stepping close enough to whack his brother on the back of the shoulder. “Bringing her here, you know the rules…”
“Damn the rules,” he hissed. “She was defenseless out there, and if I hadn’t stepped in those hounds would have torn her apart.”
“Hounds? What hounds?”
“A hunting pack from the eastern border, at least twenty of them. Bloodhounds from Hofft.” He spoke as if hypnotized, his deep voice soft and thoughtful. “I could smell the stink of that place on their fur. Old stone and the stench of sea. They chased her into the clearing and would have ripped her limb from limb, so I killed them, all of them but one.” He spoke of killing without remorse, and Vilnjar felt a great heaviness fall over his soul. Finn was more like their father than he would ever know, and that was why the council was always trying to get rid of him. “She ran back to her masters when the horn sounded. I figured letting her go would send the proper message.”
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 4