Even Burl’s face showed the reality of what they faced. Blaine stroked Blue’s head, feeling as invisible as if she’d been clutching the blinder. Dacey, you’re scaring them off, she thought, watching the sniffling, scared bunch.
Dacey seemed to see it, too. His voice gentled down some. “I know I’m a stranger to you. It’s the only reason I’m not caught up with the rest of your menfolk. Trust Trey and Burl iff’n you can’t bring yourself to trust me. And iff’n you can’t do that, trust that I hate the Annekteh as much as anyone. If that ain’t enough, you just better figure you only got a short span of days before more o’ them get here, and I’m the only one standing here to tell you how to get free before that happens.”
There was no denying that. They had only days before their lives were forever changed, they were children, and here was someone who would — who could — tell them what to do. A few of them looked up at him, earnest-faced and somehow uncertain at the same time — we want to believe in you expressions — but they didn’t know if they dared.
“Any one of you let on that something’s up, and the Annekteh’ll Take you,” Dacey said. “They’ll slap you down before you get started — and they may never let you go. You keep that in mind until you hear from Trey or Burl just what you’re to be doing, and when.” His face took on a different kind of intensity. Hope. Purpose. “An’ you keep this in mind — we can do this. They don’t know I’m here. They’re weak, in thinking that they can’t be hurt, when they can. We can do this.”
He sat down on the log next to Blaine. The boys stirred, and turned to one another, still flashing frowns and uncertainty at Dacey, talking in what started as whispers but rose to chatter punctuated with emphatic exclamations. They’d do it, she thought. It wasn’t like they had a choice. “What do you think?”
“They’ll do,” he said absently. “I reckon they got to.”
Blaine snorted. “Half of ’em ain’t old enough to find the outhouse at night by themselves.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet.
Not in a talking mood. Blaine left him alone, busied with the task of staring down the few glances coming her way as the boys filed out of the clearing. Glances filled with silent questions about her — for although she knew some of these boys, they appeared not to have recognized her. She didn’t know whether it was because of their numbed condition or because of some change in herself. Upon inspection she certainly appeared the same.
She couldn’t say the same of Dacey. Never mind the jagged healing spot above his temple; she was getting used to that. She looked instead at the darkness under his eyes and the strain around his mouth, high contrast with the grin that came so easily when he sang with the dogs. “They would rather fight, even this dirty, than live under the Annekteh,” she said, almost before she knew she intended to speak.
Dacey looked at her in mild surprise, and after a moment, a quiet smile barely stretched the corners of his mouth. Then he looked out at the abandoned clearing and the sunshine that had risen over the top of the opposite ridge to sparkle through the hollow, changing the grey fog into brilliant clouds that gathered densely unto themselves as they drifted upward. “By the time this is over, even if we win, those boys will hate me. I’m asking them to do things children ought not even think of.”
“They’ve already seen and done things they ought not even think of,” Blaine said, petting the velvet of Blue’s ear. “You’re the one that told me, way back at your cabin, that things was never going to be the same. You’re the one who knows all about it. How can you doubt what you’re doing? I don’t.”
“Don’t you?” Dacey asked, looking at her, that clear-eyed look of his.
Blaine frowned at him. “You might make it easy and just let me say so.”
“Ain’t my way,” Dacey said, but a hint of humor had returned to his face.
She couldn’t help it. She stuck her tongue out at him. And then she stuck her chin on the heel of her fist and looked out at the shifting clouds, enjoying the sounds of birds reclaiming the clearing with the boys gone. The past few days had seen an explosion of green, and the trees showed a multitude of hues in their fast-growing leaves. Many times she had watched similar weather and similar views from her rock, and now she could almost pretend....
But not quite. She glanced at Dacey to find him lost in his own reverie, comfortably companionable here, on the heels of a declaration of rebellion. And when she looked back upon the cloud that drifted its way up the hill toward them, its first tendrils curling at their feet, she found it had changed. Involuntarily, she sat up straight, gaping at the shadows, the tint of purple that now reached for them. She dug her nails into the rotting wood of the log, searching for something real and solid as the color deepened.
“Dacey,” she said unsteadily, unable to tear her eyes away from the miasma that flowed around her calves. “Dacey!” she repeated more insistently, her voice going shrill and terrified. Beside her, buried in dark fog, Blue growled.
The moist fingers shifted up to her thighs and Blaine could stand it no longer — she stood to flee, looking wildly for escape, finding that the rest of the cloud had risen above them and covered everything, leaving only a few dark, looming and unidentifiable shapes. “Dacey!” she shrieked. Beyond reasoning, beyond terror, she dropped to her knees to bury her face in her hands, a thin, insubstantial target buried in purple mist, rocking and keening in fear.
“Blaine.” Two strong hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her against the rhythm of her own movement. “Blaine.” He gave her a single, tooth-rattling shake and she suddenly realized he was there, turned to huddle in against him. “It’s all right, Blaine. They ain’t here. Just a Taker trick.”
“Wh-what?” she said, muffled through her hands.
“Look,” he said firmly, turning her away and gently but insistently removing her hands from her face.
The clearing shone before her, washed in sunlight and strong shadows. Above, the dissipating mist still shone faintly of purple as the clouds rose to evaporate in the sun.
“I — I thought they were here,” she said tremulously. “I thought they had us.”
“Just tricks, Blaine.”
“But — didn’t you see it?”
“Not until I looked for it. It weren’t nothing more than what a good seer could have done in the days when they were strong. Just trying to scare us.”
“Well, damn,” Blaine sniffled, “they did a good job.”
“That’s all right,” Dacey said, sliding back to sit on the log again. “Iff’n we hadn’t got them some scared, they wouldn’t have bothered to do it.”
“But they don’t know we’re here,” Blaine said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her face with a sleeve that left her more smudged than she’d been. “Do they?”
“I don’t reckon,” Dacey said thoughtfully. “They might could suspect I’m back, what with those men dead.”
“That’s enough,” Blaine muttered, still shaky as she rose to her feet. She was beginning to feel ashamed and more than a little bit angry.
“It’s all right, Blaine,” Dacey repeated quietly, although when she looked at him, his gaze was on the faint path leading toward their old camp. After a moment he fumbled with the buckle that wrapped the leather upper of his boot around his lower calf. The soft leather sagged, spilling out the winter wool lining. He pulled a small pouch from the wool and relaced the boots.
By now Blaine knew enough not to ask, and merely watched with curiosity until Dacey stood, emptied the pouch into his hand, and held it out to her. Within were four completely nondescript dull white objects, each about the size of one of her front teeth. Blaine blinked and stepped closer. They were front teeth. Someone’s cutting teeth. She wrinkled her nose at him and deliberately stepped back again.
“They’re teeth, all right,” Dacey said, in complete sympathy with her expression. “And more. They’re protection.”
“From what?” Blaine asked, skeptical.
“T
hey’re Annekteh Took. Were,” he corrected himself. “Now they’re wards, iff’n you know how to use them. Set ’em in a building, it’s safety from Annekteh.”
“Then why ain’t we used ’em before?” Blaine said, not quite a demand. She was just as glad they hadn’t.
“They ain’t without risks,” he said, tilting them around in his hand. “They pretty much make a path that’s easy for the Annekteh to follow. Once you use ’em, they know where you are, and that you got magic. ’Course, once they get to you they can’t actually get in, but then neither can you get out. I was counting on these to help us hold the hall if we take it.”
“Strikes me this is one of those things you been keeping from me.” She leaned just a little closer, deciding she definitely didn’t want to know how they’d been acquired in the first place. “Why tell me now?”
“I want you to take them.”
“Oh, no.” Blaine’s interest evaporated. “They’re yours. I don’t want nothing to do with them.”
“I’ll show you how to use them,” Dacey said, giving her as intent a look as he ever had, “and then you’ll take ’em. You got to. Up to now I’ve been your safety, Blaine, not that you’ve needed much. I figured I could protect you from being Took, and it weren’t worth the risk of using these, shouting to ’em that we were here. But I reckon they do know that — or at least think it — or they wouldn’t have played with the mist. And things are gonna get confusing soon. You won’t be as safe no more. You take these, and if the time comes you need ’em, use ’em. But don’t lose ’em, cause you’ll be the one setting them at the hall.”
“Dacey...” she protested, and he brought his gaze up from the teeth to look directly at her.
“Blaine,” he said, “I need to give them to someone I can depend on.”
Human teeth. That was bad enough, but to know they’d been Took? Blaine shuddered. Someone I can depend on. Slowly, she extended her hand. The little grey objects tumbled into her palm, warm from Dacey’s own. She stared at them.
“Now listen close,” he said. “I don’t want to go through this too many times — I got yet to make it back to the old camp today.”
Blaine’s gaze had been oddly drawn by the things in her hand, but now it wrenched back to Dacey. “You can’t go, not if they know you’re around, not when you’re still puny from that rock!”
“That’s all true enough, but...we might need a place to fall back to, Blaine. I want it set to rights, and I want it safe — and if they know we might go there, it won’t be safe. It’s got to look like no one’s ever been there. I don’t reckon that’s how you left it.”
“I’ll go, then.” They did need his pack, and her bearskin still hung over a branch plain as day. “You know I got restless feet. And you — iff’n I could boss you around with any luck, I’d be sending you back to rest while you can.”
He rebuckled his boot, considering her words. “It’s good sense, I can’t argue that.” Straightening, he stretched, scrubbed his hand through his hair — one side of it, anyway — and nodded. “Iff’n you’re truly —”
But he stopped short, stiffening, off-balance with his stretch and jerking to catch himself. “No,” he breathed, and his expression changed so rapidly Blaine had no chance to follow, to figure out what was going on. He made no effort to give her that chance. His face closed up; he straightened. “I reckon I need the chance to stretch my legs, Blaine. I won’t be gone but for a while.”
“Dacey,” she said, all set to protest, lifting her chin to its most stubborn elevation. “I can’t stop you, but I ain’t staying behind.”
“You’ll be all right,” he said, picking out one of the teeth from the group on her palm. “It’s got to be done. Now listen up, I’ll tell you how this is done.”
She gave him a cross look — it’s not me I’m worried about — and bent to the task of learning the wards. Then she’d see about who went and who stayed.
~~~~~
With the wards secured in her pocket, Blaine had watched Dacey take the hill to the old camp. Mage walked along behind him, his nose to the wind and actively searching the air; the other three foxhounds were off on some errand of their own.
It should be me.
But he hadn’t wanted it. Had gone in that one strange moment from considering her sensible offer to steadfastly refusing it, to refusing even her company.
Leaving her with this handful of disgusting old teeth.
But he had his reasons, whatever they were; he always had his reasons. And he was right enough not to be free with ’em, not with the Annekteh around. So Blaine went over the ward procedure in her head three times — it was simple enough, if distasteful — then quit the clearing in search of a willow — and, perhaps if she were lucky, sassafras. By the time Dacey returned from his ill-advised hike, he’d probably be in need of more of that tea. Meanwhile, Trey had been thoughtful enough to bring more food, so she had no intention of foraging unless she saw something irresistible.
The sassafras remained elusive, and she moved down toward the creek in search of willow. It was easy found, and she stripped off a few wands for tea before she cut a branch to transform into a willow whistle on the way back.
Blue hovered around her as she brewed the tea, and she let him taste it when he insisted; he gravely lapped it, but only once — and his tongue flew around the inside of his mouth, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste. Blaine laughed and then had to say she was sorry, and he forgave her by cleaning her arm from wrist to elbow with that same big tongue.
For an afternoon that came on the heels of a purple mist and the gathering of miniature warriors, Blaine enjoyed herself almost indecently. Now that she’d accepted Blue’s affection, and even allowed herself to return it, she discovered that his companionship was entertaining. She didn’t even begrudge cutting off some of the bear meat for him so he wouldn’t pester her about the warming bacon and beans.
But when darkness fell, Dacey’s portion of the beans sat dried and cracked at the edge of the fire. Alternately worrying and dozing, Blaine sat against one of the little pines, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the blue ticked dog on her feet. A few owls hooted back and forth at one another while the dying fire occasionally shifted, sparking in the darkness. Now and then the trees moved enough to rustle in the breeze. Blaine listened to the soft intrusions, comfortable with them. When Blue gave a soft whine she didn’t stir.
And then something made the hairs on the back of her own neck stand up. An instant later, Mage’s eerie lament filled the air, swallowing the other night noises with its intensity.
Blue jumped to his feet, his hackles rising, his whine growing into the sort of moan which could only rise to a howl. Blaine grabbed his collar, struggling to keep the blanket around her shoulders as she stood. “No good,” she said. “We don’t want to call no attention to ourselves.” Unhappily, Blue subsided, looking up to her for reassurance.
After some moments, when the night noises resumed and Blue gave one of his whiffling sighs, Blaine sat back down. She was halfway to the ground, her ankles crossed, her balance precarious, when Blue gave a sharp bark. She snatched at his collar again; he tore through her grip like a favorite knife through a weak pocket and was in full cry before her bottom hit the ground. Blaine stared stupidly after him, and only belatedly — and futilely — shouted, “Blue! You get back here!”
The rustling noise of his progress up the ridge faded. She was alone.
Blaine closed her eyes — frustrated, searching for patience and fortitude — but they opened again, quick and very wide. She knew that Mage song, that very noise. Not any old hound howl, not talking with the others up on the ridge. Spirits, it was the very one he had sung the morning she found Dacey tied and struggling.
A hound’s cry of mourning.
They’ve got him. The Annekteh have Dacey again.
“Blue!” she cried into the night. Don’t leave me to face this alone!
Blaine stepped outside the pine
s, only to discover that the evening mist blanketed out the sky and all but the lowest branches of the trees, leaving her no sign of moonlight. No way to find him. No way to keep herself from blundering into the Annekteh, were they out there. Agonizingly indecisive, she clutched the blanket together at her throat, her fingers tight in the wool fabric. Squinting into the darkness for answers.
Something shuffled in the woods, something close and slow and quiet. But before her frustration could turn to fear, she heard Blue’s whine.
“Blue!” Had he really come just because she’d called? Surely not. Surely he was only confused. He came to her, head low and expression confused, and Blaine gave him a quick hug — making certain sure to get a good grip on his collar.
Moon or no moon, Blue could find Dacey.
His braided leash lay in a coil beside the blankets, and Blaine wasted no time hooking him up. She crushed the already dying fire into coals and bent over to touch her head to his. “I can’t find him,” she said. “But you can.” First a hug, and then she gave his shoulders a little push forward. “Go ahead. Find Dacey.”
She didn’t imagine he actually understood — but he was free to go where he’d wanted, all along, and he knew that well enough. He took off with Blaine in tow, unwavering and determined, his course certain and detouring for only the most major of obstacles. Blaine went on four limbs almost as often as he and scaled slopes as fast as she ever had, yanked upward by her hold on the leash, one hand before her to ward off obstacles she couldn’t see.
At last, worn out with the effort of dodging branches that were already in her face and of stumbling over invisible tree roots, Blaine dug her heels in. “Blue, wait,” she panted. Grudgingly, the dog stopped, just long enough for her to loop the leash in front of his throat for control. She held the ends of the loop in both hands and slowed their progress to a fast walk. Not long after that they hit the top of the ridge, and the going was as flat as it ever got.
Blaine caught her wind and eased her grip on Blue. Instead of taking off again, he slowed, lifting his nose to the breeze, jerking in tiny whiffs of air between thin whines.
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