He pushed aside such memories with desperation, remembered Blaine’s touch on his eyelids instead, and her horrified wonder. Did it hurt? No, not at the time.
But it did now.
Stripped of everything but the habit of his confidence, he stood in the darkness of a transom-lit hall and waited with a large group of people who weren’t sure they trusted him, and were almost sure they blamed him. He missed Mage’s pressure against his leg, and the head that was just the right height to receive his habitual caress. He hoped the dog was doing Blaine some good.
~~~~~
Both hounds fell into place at her heels, and Blaine joined the boys at the head of the path into the woods. They led her upward, and her feet followed, bypassing the fear in her heart. Up the hill, Burl had said. Trey had started the fuss, had chosen the spot — killing one of the Annekteh-Taken warriors on patrol, the boys told her, and thus instantly rousing them all — and it wasn’t far, just below the ridge south of the meeting hall.
Just a few panting, never-ending, too-short minutes.
They heard the fighting before they saw it. Below them, the hill had a gentle slope, and rhododendrons thickly blanketed the area. There was plenty of cover for boys — but not for men. Trey stood uphill of the conflict, directing his young warriors. Blaine’s companions ran ahead to him, exchanged a few quick words, and peeled off, taking position on the upper side of the struggle.
It must have been a perfect initiative for the boys, Blaine thought, trying to decipher what she saw, feeling strangely removed from the fighting even though she was completely out in the open. The plan had been to concentrate the first fighting on the known Taken — those men who now sprawled between the bushes, dead or dying.
But the Annekteh had Taken more plainsmen, Blaine was sure. And those linked by the Annekteh fought with incredible teamwork, worrying and working the boys with frightening precision, seeking to trap them within range of the long blades. One of Burl’s teammates narrowly scrambled away from a blow that would have cut him in two. They needed help.
They needed help.
Blaine tried to get Trey’s attention, but he was in the thick of it; he loosed an arrow even as he scrambled out of blade’s reach. Scooting beneath a rhododendron to safety — or as safe as he was apt to get, for the moment — he emerged and finally sighted Blaine.
“Get out of here!” he hollered, waving her off in a broad and violent gesture.
She shook her head at him, and sprinted through the fighting, throwing herself up into the waiting arms of the tree that towered over the battle. “I’ll watch for you!” she hollered to him as she reached for the next branch, well out of the way of the men below her.
As Blue and Mage curled up at the base of her tree, Trey flung her a nod and nocked another arrow to his bow, burying it in the man who was still trying reach him through the bush.
This wasn’t going to be hard at all! She could spot all the warriors from here, or nearly all of them; she wasn’t even settled before she’d waved two boys away from trouble. If she could keep them away from the Annekteh, no one would have to face killing kin or friend — no one would be Taken. And that’s what the warriors were trying to do, now, she was sure of it; they’d started herding boys into Taking distance — or trying to.
But the men were dying and the boys had no casualties, taking every advantage of size and their nimble young limbs and slowly gaining the advantage. Finally the men gathered their wits and grouped together, shielding themselves, behind a bush near Blaine’s tree — she could see them all from above, note who had lost his helmet, spot who was balding.
None of them so much as glanced up at her; they were busy enough protecting themselves — although against arrows, they had little defense. Several of them had shields, but not enough — and not of a size to protect them from arrows. The fight had become a slaughter — but a slaughter with no regrets.
It all changed in an instant.
The timberers, buoyed with their freedom, came charging off the ridge and straight into the huddled warriors. Snatching bladed weapons from the dead, betting their lives that they could kill their enemies without being touched by them, the men plowed through the battleground before they even realized that victory of a sort had already been achieved. Frantically, Blaine tried to shout them off, tried to keep track of who touched whom, but it was impossible.
The fight, nearly won, was suddenly just as close to lost.
“Fan out!” Trey bellowed, motioning his boys back and away. “Don’t touch anyone!” Ducking, weaving, sliding to safety — the boys were in constant flight, with no chance to pick out targets of their own. Blaine felt herself slipping into panic — she had no idea who was Taken and who was not.
And suddenly she was seeing from her eyes and her head at the same time... flying.
A dream, that had been a dream — !
But she found her gaze lingering on a plainsmen she clearly remembered as bearing a bruised purple aura.
Hadn’t she dreamt about Willum? Hadn’t she dreamt about Dacey, worn and haggard and standing blankly — blindly — in the woods? And had she been flying in her dream, or just high in a tree, higher than she was now?
And hadn’t Dacey called her dreams seeings, and said the magic was coming back to the hills?
The plainsman crept up on one of the boys — and his weapon pointed back behind him. Not an attack. The stalk of Annketeh looking to Take, clearly marked in her memory.
“Trey!’ she hollered, waving her arms, pointing at the man. “Trey!”
But all Trey’s attention was wrapped up in escaping the plainsman who recognized him as the boys’ leader. There was no doubt what was on that one’s mind, and a simple touch had nothing to do with it.
Or maybe not all his attention. For when Blaine rearranged herself in the tree to bring him back into sight, Trey carried an extra bow and quiver. He was coming straight at her tree, losing ground with the effort but determined enough that when he ran beneath her and flung the stolen weapons upward, she was ready to receive them. She hooked her ankle through the crotch of a small branch and flung her arm out to its very limit, snatching at the bow and intertwined quiver strap.
A few arrows spilled out as the quiver skewed around in her grip, but Blaine hauled in her catch and pressed her body back against the tree. Those few seconds had taught her the fear of exposure — and driven home how much Trey had risked to respond to her. Anxiously, she searched for him, and finally spotted him slithering along on his stomach at some speed while the foiled warrior fought to disentangle his scabbard from a gnarled old rhododendron branch.
Reassured, Blaine looked at the weapon still clenched tightly in her hand. The bow grip was slick with fresh blood, making her wonder which of the dead — which of their own — had dropped it. She pulled her shirt from her skirtband and carefully cleaned the grip. Without contemplating the evolving sequence of her actions, she pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it.
Then she looked below.
The boys were still running, their expressions nothing but fear. The men around them were parents, brothers and uncles, and some of them were Annekteh. But without someone to point out who was enemy and who was still kin, not a boy could bring himself to attack.
But Blaine knew.
She spotted the plainsman from a moment before and raised the bow. She could come nowhere near a full draw on the short bow, but she pulled until her arm trembled, and released. He was close, and it took him in the lower back — astonishing success.
She looked out on the battle with new eyes, eyes with a dream memory imprinted like double vision, flickering visions that made her blink, made her eyes water. Then suddenly it seemed to settle, and make sense. Men and boys mixed in intricate, familiar patterns, and Jason abruptly drew her focus. She knew him as a young man who hunted with her Daddy, and saw him as nekfehr, lying in wait for one of the youthful fighters.
Blaine raised the bow and shifted so there was room to pul
l back at this new angle, then carefully sighted to the center of Jason’s chest. She wondered if his pretty wife had had their baby yet, and she let the bowstring roll off her fingertips. The arrow wavered, but hit its target —
With barely enough force to cause a shallow wound. Jason bellow in surprise rather than pain, searching for his attacker —
And then another arrow thunked home, a solid and fatal attack that had certainly not come from Blaine. Confused, she twisted around to discover three boys just outside the melee. Estus was lowering his bow, and he found her in the tree, gave her a little nod.
The runners, Blaine realized. The ones who had been chosen for size and stealth to reach the timberers. The men must have outrun them on the way back, and now they wisely held back at the edge of danger — until Estus realized what Blaine was doing. He couldn’t have known how — but he had followed up on her attack anyway.
For that, she almost forgave him the blow to Dacey’s head.
Now he spoke quickly to the boys with him and they separated to cover three points of a triangle, moving quietly across the hill until they were in position to see Blaine and take her direction — and act on it.
Blaine took advantage of them immediately. The other boys were tiring, and their game of slither and dodge would not last much longer. She found a man she didn’t know, closing on a panicking youngster. Him, she thought, remembering clearly. But there was no response when she pointed.
When she looked, she found Estus spreading his hands in perplexity, frustration on his face. He can’t tell!
Of course he couldn’t. He was at the edge of the action, she was in the middle of a tree, pointing down into a roiling rhododendron patch. As quickly as she could, Blaine notched another arrow and sighted on her target — missing him completely, but marking him for two swift arrows from beyond the battleground. Without hesitation she found another dream-marked man, sighted, and guided Estus’ arrow to his heart. When the third man went down, the boys in the melee began to comprehend; they never thought to question how she knew, and there was no doubt on her face to make them wonder.
For them Blaine could point, and between the pointing and her badly aimed arrows, the enemy fell. In moments the boys and timberers regained their confidence, and the Shadow Hollers men turned savagely on the invaders.
And on their own. At Blaine’s gesture, one youth took grim aim on his uncle — only to be shoved aside by a friend who had no blood ties to stain his hands.
She was crying, Blaine realized suddenly. Tears splashed on her wrist, and even the dream vision wavered. But she never hesitated. And as she took aim at another of her neighbors, she realized the Annekteh had caught on to her. They were coming up to get her.
Just like the dream. The dream that had ended...now.
Blue stood at the base of the tree, his hackles raised, his intent clear. But Mage gave a particularly vicious snarl and drove him away, and one of the nekfehr reached the tree, stretching for the lower branches, making the trunk tremble under her white-knuckled grip. A second joined him, stopping in the lower branches, waiting. Blaine froze, entirely unable to move. The dream ended —
You can take care of yourself, Dacey said in her head. Her own inner voice chimed in, annoyed at her surrender to fear. You outclimbed a bear, Blaine Kendricks. Now get going!
Blaine climbed. Skinny Blaine reached up for the next branches, thin arms hauling her relentlessly upward. Angular Blaine — covered with nothing more than stringy muscles and not an ounce of pleasingly curvy fat — shinnied up a spot bare of handholds and found herself swaying in slender branches. How much further before the tree broke and dumped her? The quiver banged against her back and she dropped it on the head of the man closest to her, spewing arrows into the bushes below. The bow had fallen unnoticed moments before, and was hung up just above the ground — the same ground where tiny chicken-sized people ran around.
Way down there.
Blaine gripped the slimming tree trunk tightly as it swayed in ever increasing arcs, caused more by the nekfehr than herself. She dared not stop climbing. She closed her eyes and stole height, hand over hand. Better to die in the fall than be Taken. Burl had already made that choice, and she could make it, too.
Then the tree shuddered. Blaine peered down over her shoulder, astonished to find the closest man toppling backwards out of the tree. As he twisted and fell, breaking branches all the way down, a tiny Trey figure below gave a salute of his bow and darted back out of sight.
Blaine rested her forehead against the tree. Selfishly, she wanted to stay right there, safe in her perch — or, as safe as she was likely to get. She no longer had the bow and arrows to guide the boys. She didn’t know how else she could help.
A child’s death shriek cut right through her; her eyes sprung open. She could join the fight, that’s what she could do. Go down and grab another bow — for even if she couldn’t guide the others as well from the ground, she would know what she was aiming at — Taken or not.
The renewed trembling of her tree nearly changed her mind again — the second man — and she got ready for another chase...but he was descending, not coming after her.
Descending? Blaine blinked and took a better look. The Taken — hillfolk and plainsmen alike — were gathering up to defend each other’s backs. Weary little boys and their fathers dotted the trampled, body-strewn hillside, warily eyeing those three remaining warriors — and the few local men with them. Taken.
Anxiously, Blaine searched the faces on both sides, and discovered her father and Rand not only standing, but standing apart from the nekfehr. Rand’s arm seemed to be bleeding, but that was all. The only sign of hurt on either of them. She found herself ambushed with a wash of emotion — they’re alive, they’re safe — and hid her face against her arm, blinking away tears. She made them quick ones, though, smearing them away as she felt for the branches beneath her feet. Time to come down.
The two groups stared at one another, prickling hostility. Slowly, Trey brought his bow up, arrow ready. A ripple of movement spread around the clearing, boys and men following his lead. Ready to cut the nekfehr down in cold blood.
The silent stand-off lasted only an instant.
The annektehr ran — leaving their vessels, returning to the Annekteh whole, so far away — if they even made it. The effect was barely noticeable, a strange wavering of the air; Blaine fancied she saw a tinge of purple. The small circle of former nekfehr separated into confused hill men and three panicked warriors, abandoned by the Annekteh — and reacting with instant, unthinking hostility, turning on the dazed hill men standing with them. For that they died, pierced by a dozen different arrows.
The Shadow Hollers warriors stood another long moment in silence, until one triumphant whoop filled the air, followed by a dozen others. Blaine dropped out of the tree; Blue instantly accosted her. “All right, all right,” she told him absently, trying to spot her father and brother from this new angle. She found Cadell easily enough; it was his practical voice that cut through the noise.
“It’s too early for that,” he said. “There may be more of ’em hiding in the woods. They ain’t all here, that’s for sure. We know some of ’em are dead by the timber, but we got to get an accounting of ’em all.” His calm words stopped the back-slapping cold, and exchanged it for apprehension. No, they weren’t done yet.
“They might could try for the meeting hall,” Wade agreed. “Do a search between here and there. And we need to get some of the women up here, to tend the wounded.”
“Cadell.” It was one of the five, the once-Taken, who still held themselves apart from the others; Blaine didn’t know any of them by name, though she’d seen them all at dances and meetings. “It seems to me you might best keep us separate, and under watch. I feel myself again, but I ain’t taking no chances.”
Cadell nodded thoughtfully and turned to Rand. “See to it,” he said. Then, when Blaine thought that he had looked right past her and not recognized her, his gaze came to
rest squarely on her. His voice was quiet but clear as he said, “Blaine. Estus said you was here... You done good, Blaine. Hang here until we make sure it’s finished.”
Blaine gave a single nod. You done good, Blaine. How long had she waited to hear those words? She wanted to run up and hug him.
She didn’t.
She stayed with Blue and Mage, while Trey teamed up with Cadell to direct the mixed force in a sweep pattern of the hill. If there were annketehr still out there, she wanted to be no part of delaying their demise.
When the last of the searchers faded away, there was awkward quiet beneath the ash. The five men clustered together under Rand’s watchful eye, but his attention was clearly torn, his gaze flicking often to Blaine. Leaving Blue behind, Blaine went to join him.
Rand gave her a small smile and shake of his head — but no invitation to tuck under his arm like she’d expected. “I told Daddy you were all right. I just knew you’d gone on with that Dacey feller.”
“I didn’t have any say at the time,” Blaine told him, feeling rebuffed.
“I don’t see how you done it. How’d you get this planned? How’d you tell who was Took just now?”
Blaine shrugged. “It’s an awful long tale, Rand. Maybe some day I’ll get around to telling it all.” Rand took a good look at the fatigue on her face and held out the arm that was not bleeding, a belated invitation. Relieved, grateful, she moved to accept it.
Mage slunk between them, snarling. Blaine stopped short at the sight of him; the dog’s ears were laid flat back, his lips wrinkled up an ugly face.
“Mage?” she said hesitantly, wondering if the dog had somehow been Taken. Mage crept closer to Rand, his low-slung posture accenting his lurching gait, his snarling loud and constant.
“Blaine, call him off,” Rand said uneasily, slowly dropping his arm. The five men beyond him moved apprehensively, shifting away from the dog.
“Mage, no!” Blaine said with as much authority as she could muster. “Sit, Mage!”
The dog ignored her, continuing to stalk Rand — although he wasn’t, Blaine suddenly noticed, getting any closer to her brother, just circling.
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