Seer's Blood

by Doranna Durgin

  Cadell turned to spot Lenie as the girl’s run turned into an exhausted stagger. Once she stumbled to her knees. “Rand!” he snapped, but Rand was already sprinting to meet her.

  “Oh, Rand,” she sobbed, barely coherent. She must have run all the way from the meeting hall. Her hair straggled from its usual neat bun and the sweat on her face marked a long run made in panic. Rand scooped her up and jogged back to the porch with her, where she slid out of his grasp to reach for Cadell. Unused to embracing this daughter who had outgrown him, Cadell nonetheless put his arms around her in an awkward, protective hold.

  “Hush, Lenie,” he said after a moment of her hysterical crying. “Try to calm a bit, girl. What’s the problem? Has one of the children took sick or been snakebit?”

  “Men, Daddy,” Lenie gulped. “Men.”

  Rand straightened his back and looked Cadell square in the eye. It seemed, then, that they were in for some trouble.

  ~~~~~

  An entire communal house made from suktah, and the humans didn’t even seem to comprehend its value. Why, if they’d had warding of even the weakest kind, inside that building they’d have been untouchable.

  But they didn’t, and now they were in the hands of the Annekteh, to serve their new masters as the Annekteh chose. Perhaps even to tear down this structure to use the old suktah for the nekfehrta the annektehr needed before they could truly establish themselves here.

  Nekfehr surveyed the site, and the terrified women and children held within their own place of safety. A beautiful set-up for Breeders... The annektehr contemplated it at length, simply to torment his vessel, and to experience the results of the man’s emotional memories. Nekfehr being Taken, chosen, torn from his family — from within a Breeder camp, where such things were never supposed to happen. But Nekfehr had caught their attention with his thoughtfulness, his quick intelligence — even his devotion.

  All of these things served the annektehr well — at first, by the intensity of anne-nekfehr the man provided, separated from his family and community. And later, when his natural quickness and drive provided answers and incentive for the Annekteh...solutions the Annekteh applied toward the management of his own kind.

  Human betraying human despite himself.

  So the annektehr within Nekfehr now drove his thoughts to Breeders and children and family, and greedily lapped the frisson of the vessel’s anguish. And, after a regretfully short moment of that sweetness, released him from those thoughts; Breeders were not what they needed here — not yet — and they could not afford to waste time and concentration on irrelevant matters.

  What they needed was cooperative labor...and Feeders, from which to taste the senses, for some of the nekteh among them craved the perception of human pain and fear — strong, intoxicating experiences — called anne-nekfehr — that the Annekteh could not encounter without the use of a vessel.

  Nekfehr suspected there would be opportunities for such. People like these, long out of touch with the Annekteh, thought themselves defiant, and willing to fight for their freedom. For their families.

  They never thought such for long.

  ~~~~~

  As a group the Shadow Hollers men walked down to the creek, following its well-worn path to the river at its mouth — where the flat if narrow flood plain made the walk to the meeting hall, several hollows south, an easy one. Old Bayard, the only one mounted, had to check his mule frequently, and often muttered that he should just go on ahead. Cadell finally put Lenie on the mule behind him, and that slowed the animal enough for the men to keep up.

  Lenie hadn’t told them much — she hadn’t known it to tell. A score of men arrived suddenly, spent a few moments terrorizing the women and children in the hall, and then sent her and other youth out to gather the men from their houses.

  “They sent for us?” Rand puzzled as they paused, the meeting hall in sight. “Don’t make sense.”

  “Makes sense if they figured they’ve already got us beat,” Bayard said ominously. He was not perturbed when the others rounded on him with words and glares. “Hellfire, men! What were we just talking of? Takers! And they don’t have any call to be scairt of us! Prob’ly just making sure we all know they’ve moved in on us!” He gave his mule an unkind kick in the ribs and guided it boldly into the hall yard, stopping just before the row of unfamiliar pack and riding animals, and next to several other Shadow Hollers men.

  Cadell and Rand exchanged a quick look — not wanting to expose themselves by leaving the creek brush, unwilling to have Lenie and Bayard out there without them. Cadell nodded, grim and unhappy, and they stepped forward, leading the others out into the yard.

  “Excellent.” A voice spoke with confidence, drawing their attention to the hall, and the voice alone was enough to tell the men that this was a stranger, without the drawling speech of their own. He spoke over his shoulder into the hall. “This should be just about all of them.”

  Rand found the tall man in the hall doorway, quickly taking in the high, shin-padded boots and the peek of mail from beneath a shiny leather shirt and rough cloth pants. At the man’s side was a long sheath, a foreign shape to Rand’s eye. No wonder Blaine had been alarmed. And I called it a dream, wouldn’t even follow her.

  The open door allowed some view of the hall within, where the day’s quilt lay scattered in limp shreds and the women and children crowded into the far corner by the fireplace. The two men watching them stood well back, relaxed — one sharpening a dagger, the other leering now and then at whoever happened to catch his eye. There was another man there, ignoring the women as he spoke quietly to several others. He was shrouded in a dark cloak, and when he came out and stood in front of the hall, Rand could see the cloth was a fine, expensive weave. Not a man used to rough living.

  A voice echoing from the nearby barn told Rand where the rest of the strangers were, but the cloaked man — the leader, Rand had no doubt — paid them no mind. Instead, he watched as inside, someone spoke sharply to the quiet huddle of women and children.

  Frightened and unsure, the women just stood there, and men moved forward to haul them out of the safety of the crowd and shove them at the door. Rand stiffened as little Sarie stumbled and fell, and he caught Cadell’s arm in restraint, though he wanted just as badly to rush forward. Jenna, one of Blaine’s least favorite cousins, caught the child and swung her up into the safety of adolescent arms as she herself hurried for the door.

  “It will be more comfortable out here,” the leader said. His hair and eyes were dark, like black ice, and his voice made Rand shiver inside, especially when the man smiled as though he was offering them the hospitality of a neighborly porch. “I’m afraid you’d find it quite crowded in there, and I very much want you to be able to pay attention. No distractions.”

  He gave them time for families to unite and waited until they had settled, little nuclei of defiance and fear. Then he left his spot beside the door to stride out before them, the casual set of his body telling them more of their situation than anything else they’d seen. Mystified and intimidated, the same mountain men who would growl back at a wildcat merely stood and waited.

  “I’m impressed,” the leader said. “I’d been told it was harder than this to quell you people, but I think this is going to be easy on both of us. My name is Nekfehr; I command here. Please listen closely as I explain how things will be from now on.”

  Lenie’s hand crept into Rand’s; he took it gladly.

  “We’re from the plains to the north of you, although I think most of you know that already. We run things there, and we’re very good at it.” Nekfehr smiled — a slow, chilling smile. “Originally, we came from north of the plains, but we find the living more entertaining in the flat lands. More people there. More for us to do. And now we have needs that your mountains can fulfill. Conveniently for us, you’re here to help us meet our goals, and to satisfy our needs.”

  Rand glanced at his father, and then at the others, seeing narrowed eyes and tensed jaws — hea
ring the same message he did. You people are our playthings. Our slaves.

  With his next words, Nekfehr as much as told them so. “You’re nothing but tools to us. Work for us, and we’ll treat you well enough. Fail to serve us, and...well. One throws a helplessly broken tool away, does one not?” He adjusted his fine black gloves, pulling them more snugly over his fingers, apparently unconcerned about his audience — but Rand saw him watching them, a surreptitious gaze. The eyes of a man — a creature — who enjoyed the power he held over them. “For the moment, you will serve our purposes by providing labor. It’s certainly too bad for you that you’re so isolated in these mountains. Some of you might have gotten away, had you been forewarned.” He affected another smile. “But oh, yes — you’ve lost all your seers, haven’t you? No warning at all. Now it’s too late, I’m afraid.”

  Rand’s back stiffened in denial and defiance; the minute gesture echoed throughout the gathering, a collective of stubborn-looking faces. Rough faces, some of the men freshly shaved of winter beards, some of them still fuzzy and untrimmed, everyone in work clothes — unlike the women, who had put some effort into their appearance for the quilting party. Mountain faces...determined to keep the mountains their own.

  Nekfehr seemed not to notice — but suddenly Rand was sure he had, that he’d deliberately evoked the response, and was now enjoying it. Playing them, like trout on the line. “To start with,” the man said, crisp and uncompromising, “we have a need for suktah — that is, sassafras wood. We’ll be searching for your groves. We’ll also be starting extensive logging of other trees — your trees have properties you don’t seem interested in exploiting, but we have no such weaknesses.”

  He waved a hand at them, his gesture encompassing them all. “The women will work the farms, aside from a select few who will watch the children — here, at this building. My men will be here at the hall also — you may consider your children hostages for your honest efforts.

  “The men will be logging. We will assign you to crews and areas, and you will work at a reasonable pace or we will come to terms about it. Negotiations will not be pleasant.” The man smiled emotionlessly, and at once Rand hated him.

  “The younger boys,” the man concluded, “will provide fresh meat and other forage. I assure you the whole system is simple and workable, and I expect to have no trouble.”

  Rand shifted back on his heels and caught Cadell’s eye — and could see his father’s thoughts favored his own. The invaders were outnumbered; they were under-armed. What weapons they did have seem to be for close-distance fighting — there was nary a bow to be seen. And maybe these mountains were isolated by the very nature of their structure, but that could be an advantage, too. There were always places to slip away to, plans to make...these heavily armored and bulky-weaponed men could never keep up in a pursuit, and hostages could always be freed. For a moment, lulled by the leader’s calm attitude, the community thought of rebellion. As a whole, their faces were hard, hateful and defiant.

  “What about my girl?” Lottie said, her voice sudden and low. “Blaine, my middle child. What have you done with her?”

  Rand gave her a startled glance, surprised she had put it together so fast. But when the man seemed unlikely to respond, despite the raised eyebrow he bestowed upon Lottie, Rand backed her up. “She went to help Dacey Childers. We know you had him.”

  His statement started a stir of surprise and murmuring, people leaning over to hiss questions at Cadell.

  The leader shrugged, uncaring. “She’s dead. So’s the man.”

  “No,” Lottie whispered.

  Rand did more. He’d been to that camp site; he’d seen no bodies. “Prove it!”

  “Prove it?” That dark gaze held sudden danger. “Prove it? Never would you say such a thing, had you any memories of our history here. Prove it? I can see we need to remind you of those days. Perhaps we did ourselves a disservice, last time, by destroying your seers’ records so thoroughly. But,” he said, giving them a suddenly calculating gaze, “we can rectify that error.” Nekfehr gestured to his men and pointed toward the gathered families, jabbing his finger once at each end of the crowd. Charlane Prater was yanked away from her family — while Willum, who’d been squatting in research on a bug, gave one surprised squall and found himself in front of the crowd. He offered the insect to the man who held his arm.

  The man slapped it away.

  Willum understood then; this was more than just some odd game. He tore loose and Charlane snatched him and gathered him close before her, her arms crossed over his chest to offer what protection she could. Willum watched fearfully as Nekfehr approached and laid his ungloved hand on Charlane’s neck. Then his eyes widened, for Charlane’s grip tightened visibly. He wiggled in protest, whimpering, casting questioning eyes on his mother.

  “Hold still,” Lottie whispered, her command strained, thinking, it seemed, the same as Rand...if he didn’t fuss...if he was cooperative —

  Too much of a chance. “I’m the one done said it,” Rand said, stepping out — only to be brought up short by one of the men, one he dared not let touch him. “You got something to do, you do it to me.”

  Another man stepped forward, drawing his knife. He smiled at Charlane — and Charlane smiled back, genuine as anything.

  “I’m afraid this is more effective,” Nekfehr said, and nodded at Willum.

  The plainsman drew his blade across Willum’s throat.

  It happened so fast Rand wasn’t at first sure of what he’d seen — and then they all knew, frozen in horror as blood sprayed high in great heart-driven spurts, as Willum’s astonished little face gathered itself for one great cry that he never had the opportunity to voice. As his eyes drained of life and his body sagged, as Charlane held him tightly without a hint of regret, as Lottie wailed and fell against her husband, Rand’s chest clutched with a fury and grief he knew he didn’t dare express. Could only vow to avenge...while at the same time realizing there was very little chance he’d ever get the opportunity.

  Nekfehr smiled his terrible, dead smile. “Take note. I could have made any one of you do that. His mother, his father, another child his age. And if you give me cause, I will.”

  His touch on Charlane’s neck released her. She looked, aghast, at the body in her arms and the blood on her sleeves, and began to scream.

  Nekfehr turned away, his face filled with cold, alien satisfaction.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter 6

  Much to Blaine’s relief, Dacey kept their course on the ridges. Despite the occasional detour downslope to avoid rock outcrops, or abrupt hikes up to another level of the ridge, most of the path was flat. Much easier than walking on two different levels of ground with the same length legs... It was where anyone doing serious travel in the mountains would go — and the first place anyone looking for them would go.

  No, she told herself, the first place anyone used to the mountains would go.

  Poplar and maple, oaks and hemlock, ridgelines that swooped from one chain of hills to another, subtly veering east or west without notice — soon the landmarks became a blur in Blaine’s mind. A thoroughly disoriented blur. She realized suddenly that it was one thing to know the few ridges behind your homeplace, and quite another to know the pattern of the hills well enough to guide yourself through them.

  Without Dacey, she doubted she could even find her way home; she marveled that he’d found his way to Shadow Hollers in the first place. There seemed to be no settled land in between.

  And she badly wanted to find her way home. She wanted to be home. She wondered constantly if she’d done the right thing by going with Dacey, and she wondered how things had gone with with her family, if they were safe...if Rand had ever come to look for her or if Lottie was crazy with worry, adding more lines in her early-aged face. And she wondered just how far they would walk.

  The dogs didn’t make it any easier. Excepting Mage, who traveled right at Dacey’s heel, the dogs ranged back and forth over the sl
opes, arriving and departing in great frenzies of excitement that never failed to scatter her thoughts and make her own weariness seem greater simply by contrast.

  “Don’t they ever get tired?” Blaine asked, finally, during an afternoon that seemed especially long, on a day that seemed even longer — and only a day after Dacey’s escape.

  “Never seem to.” Dacey’s hand dropped, as it often did, to rest on the crippled hound’s head. Then, as if he sensed the reason she’d said anything, he stopped, eyeing the trees around them. “Good place to take a breather, you think?”

  “If you like.” She dropped to the ground while he was still shrugging off his pack, and watched with concealed surprise when he threw together a quick pile of easily found wood, started a fire, and spitted Blue’s latest catch — a rabbit, though Blaine didn’t know how the big dog had ever gotten his jaws on one — over it. Like magic, the hounds quit quartering the ridge and came to sit in an attentive circle. Blue, Blaine noticed, sat beside her, dividing his attention between the cooking meat and making sidelong glances toward her.

  She pretended not to see him.

  “Dacey,” she said, absently catching the end of a braid to fiddle with, “Who are those men? What did they want with you? I mean, why you instead of — well, Rand, maybe. After all, Rand lives right there. You were a stranger.”

  He glanced at her, and then returned his attention to the rabbit. “I reckon that’s why it bothered them that I was there — I didn’t belong. They figured it meant I’d come there looking for ’em...and they were right. I warned your daddy of ’em the very eve I took supper with you.”