Seer's Blood

by Doranna Durgin

  Though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

  They came down behind the barn — in Blaine’s case, smack up against it, as it stopped her out-of-control descent. Dacey had his back to it, trying to slow his breathing, his eyes closed as he listened and assessed what they could hear — though it wasn’t as clear, here on the same level and behind the barn, as it had been uphill.

  Angry men’s voices, snatches of phrases, a clear threat. Blaine caught Dacey’s glance; his face was grim. No, this definitely wasn’t over. Not yet.

  Dacey smeared the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and straightened, leading the way to the downhill edge of the barn. They crept around it, not heeding too much to the noise they made; there was enough of that in the yard to cover their steps.

  When they could see the yard, Blaine crouched down low, and Dacey came up behind her, his hand on her shoulder; both stayed against the rough old wood of the barn slats. Dacey breathed a curse in her ear as the situation became apparent.

  The women were out of the hall, all right. They mingled freely with about half the men from the fighting, and they held hastily snatched implements of war — the pitchforks, shovels and mattocks from the barn. The men had knives and bows, but precious few arrows. The children were hiding, clinging, no longer crying, crowding against one parent or the other.

  They all faced off against three men. Nekfehr and two others.

  “Annektehr,” Dacey murmured to Blaine. “All three. The last of ’em, I believe.”

  Annektehr, and they had a little girl.

  Her name was Rossie; Blaine had watched over her a time or two. She was Willum’s age, a feisty little girl who was not good at taking orders — orders like stay in the hall. Though one of the men had a good grip on her, she was obviously not Taken, not with the genuine terror on her face, the high red blotches from tears. She wasn’t moving — not even a squirm, not with the big knife up against her chest like it was.

  Dacey walked past Blaine and right out into the yard, to the side of the stand off. “If you kill her, you’re going to die.”

  Nekfehr tipped his head, a salute of sorts. “We have no intention of dying. If we can’t come to terms, we’ll simply Take this child.” He gestured at Rossie, in the grip of his man, and bestowed upon her a look of false affection. “It’s amazing how many of you she’ll be able to touch before anyone can bring themselves to kill her.”

  Dacey shook his head. “I can kill her before she reaches any one of them.”

  Someone gasped; a mother’s cry of dismay. Dacey had left the bow behind; Blaine had his knife. But as he moved between the little girl and the crowd, it was clear enough to Blaine that he would simply intercept her before she could reach any of them.

  “Then they’ll likely kill you,” the leader said.

  “Not until after you’ve done died a dozen times over,” Dacey said. “Seems a fair enough trade, to me.”

  “Dacey, no,” Blaine breathed. But no one heard her; no one even knew she huddled beside the barn. They were frozen — afraid, now, to do anything that might tip this confrontation the wrong way.

  As though it were no big thing, Dacey looked Rossie in the eye, got her attention. Then he stepped toward her, reaching his hand out in invitation.

  “I think not,” Nekfehr said. “You’ve done enough.”

  He lunged forward, snake-quick and apparently unarmed — but Blaine saw the tuft of something in his hand, all but hidden from view. She ran from the safety of the barn, crying a warning — but by then Dacey was already in motion. He leapt aside and into the attack, bringing the side of his hand down hard against the man’s inner elbow. And though it made no sense to Blaine, Dacey didn’t hesitate, folding the arm around his hand, and shoving the Nekfehr’s own hand back at him. It slammed into the man’s own chest.

  And to Blaine’s astonishment, Nekfehr crumpled. To everyone’s astonishment, including the men who had backed him, somehow Dacey’s touch held death — or impending death, for the man still quivered at his feet. For an instant, they were frozen with surprise, and in that instant, a warrior cry filled the air. High pitched, a woman’s challenge. Lottie — my mommy, Lottie! — charged out of the crowd, her pitchfork held high. She buried it in the chest of the man who held Rossie, then yanked the child away.

  Dead silence, while the remaining nekteh backed away from them and the entire assembly stared at Lottie, wondering if she’d been quick enough. She lifted her chin and said, her voice fierce, “They took my Willum. They wasn’t having this ’un, too.”

  In an unspoken threat, Dacey moved between Lottie and the final annektehr, his stare hard, his warning unmistakable. The man hesitated. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in an untidy, quivering heap.

  Beside him, Nekfehr gave a little jerk; Blaine eased up to Dacey’s side, looking down at the Annekteh leader with trepidation. To her surprise, Dacey’s face held nothing but compassion. “It’s over, Nekfehr,” he said, crouching by the man, his voice reassuring; he picked something off the man’s chest and dropped it in the dust, grinding it to pieces with his toe.

  “Not Nekfehr,” the man gasped. “Shauntan. My name —” He stiffened, his jaws clenching, and somehow spoke anyway. “ — is Shauntan. And — I thank you.” He jerked again, and Blaine looked away.

  When she looked back, he was dead.

  Pandemonium. Rossie ran to her mother, was swept up and kissed frantically all over her tear-stained face. Boys and men who’d been watching out of sight on the hill came rushing down to their families, turning the yard into a tumult of whooped greetings, embraces and tears. Blaine found her own family, everyone but Rand, and they somehow managed to hug each other all at once. Sarie, who needed some moments to realize that this person truly was her older sister, took to squealing Blaine’s name over and over again, until Blaine hitched the girl up on her hip and held her there, enduring the stranglehold around her neck.

  Thus encumbered, she turned back to Dacey, who had been standing alone over the three once-Taken, but who was now becoming the focus of the yard. Slowly, silence fell again, as they regarded the uncoordinated shuddering of that which had once been human — the remaining nekfehr, the vessel — and which now seemed like an empty shell.

  “They get like this when they’ve been Took long enough,” Dacey said. “Be a mercy to kill him.” And he turned and walked away, through the path that opened for him.

  Blaine slid Sarie off her hip and followed him to the barn, where he turned back to watch the gathering and the indistinct, solemn action that took place in the center of it. Mercy.

  “Dacey,” she said, “what happened? How’d Nekfehr die? Looked like it was purely from your touch!”

  Dacey glanced at her, startled. “’Course it wasn’t. He had a dart. Same kind o’ dart that kilt my uncle. Didn’t expect me to know of it, I’d say.”

  “Oh,” she said, still a little numb from it all. The men who were crouching over the leader’s body obviously hadn’t found the dart yet, not from the looks they were giving Dacey; she remembered that he had crushed something. The crowd broke up, leaving the bodies in its wake as people started to put things to rights. There were tables to be righted, wounds to be tended, stomachs to be fed. Blaine frowned a little. “They act like they’ve done forgot there’s a whole ’nother crew of them Annekteh headed this way.”

  “I don’t reckon they still are,” Dacey said. “They can’t win when we’re ready for them, which we are. And they know there’s seer’s blood here now. They’ll turn back.”

  “But what about the people they already have?” Blaine asked. “They’re still there, aren’t they? Up north?”

  “That’s another fight, Blaine,” Dacey said gently. He was hardly imposing, leaning up against the barn as though it was the only thing that held him up, his face still pale and marred from Annekteh ill-treatment...but there was something about him that drew her gaze to him. Blaine tipped her head up to meet his eyes. They were
still hazel, still clear and kind, but she understood once more that he had gained more than the simple sight he’d once had.

  He would be leaving soon, she suddenly realized. It simply wasn’t like him to drag out his part in this victory. Despite her respect for his natural reserve, she just couldn’t not do it. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms — skinny as they were — around the breadth of his shoulders. She could feel the weariness there, but when she drew away his face also held the same playfulness she’d seen when they sang with the dogs.

  She didn’t guess she’d ever really understand him.

  “Go to your folks,” he said. “Me’n Mage’ll walk the hills a bit, I reckon.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter 22

  Blaine arranged tender spring flowers on the tiny mounded grave that held Willum. The fine carpets of short, early flowers were almost gone — spring warmed fast in these parts — but he had enjoyed picking them, so she’d made a special effort to find a few stragglers.

  She sat back on her heels and stared at the grave, the newest in the small family cemetery up behind the barn. Lenie had come up with her, but hung back by Granpapaw’s headstone.

  Blaine had found her sister changed, a quieter person, someone whose comments were sincere even if not always what Blaine wanted to hear. Under the Annekteh, she had been driven hard, saddled with Cadell’s chores as well as her own and Blaine’s. Now that she was free of them, Lenie returned to watching for her appearance, but without the shallow nature from before. Blaine understood that in the mixing of the people of the hollows, Lenie had found someone to interest her, and the attention was being returned.

  Respect for the dead demanded decent time before a wedding, but Blaine expected it would soon be her own turn to find someone.

  Strange. She had helped to free her kin and neighbors. Now she felt like she had traded their freedom for hers. She was already back to the old life she had always fought against. Daddy hadn’t thought to forbid her the hills — yet — but it had been only a bare week since her return. Several times she’d been out in the hills with Dacey, as he walked the ridges and searched for signs of Annekteh interlopers with his seer’s eyes.

  But he was due to leave after the dance-party tonight, and surely then it would occur to her father that Blaine should not be allowed in the hills. Not if she was to devote herself to finding a good husband.

  Well, Cadell couldn’t be expected to look after her forever. Blaine understood that. She also knew that the taste of freedom she’d had would make it harder than ever to settle down.

  Thoughts of leaving had filled her mind for days. If she was going to do it, she should do it now, so it would be merely one more shock on top of all the others.

  South. Maybe she could go south, to the place where Dacey’s glass window had come from. She had seen enough of Dacey to appreciate his loner’s lifestyle, and to respect it, but surely he wouldn’t mind if she tagged along on his way home, on her way to other places. Surely he’d come to enjoy her company, too.

  “Poor Mommy,” Lenie said, drawing Blaine from her thoughts with surprise. Since when had Lenie noticed any of what their mother went through? While Blaine’s way might have been to run to the woods, Lenie had simply ignored what she saw and set her sights on something of her own.

  “Poor Mommy?” Blaine repeated.

  Lenie gave her an accusing look. “First to lose you, then Willum — oh, that was horrible, Blaine. They took Charlane Prater, and she held Willum whilst one of the soldiers —”

  “I don’t want to hear it!” Blaine turned away from the grave to shout Lenie into silence.

  “We had to live it!” Lenie shouted back, then looked away. When she looked back, the anger was gone from her face. “Poor Charlane was worse off than Mommy, though we all told her we knew she had no say in what happened.” Lenie’s shrug was matter-of-fact. “You missed a lot, Blaine.”

  I went through my own trials. “Don’t think you can figure what all I’ve done, either.”

  As though Lenie had heard her sister’s thoughts, she shrugged again. “I guess you’ll be part of legends now, just like the stories of Anneka Ridge. I don’t mean to say you run out on us, nothing like that. It’s just you weren’t here, to see what happened to Willum, nor to see Mommy and Daddy when they thought you was gone as well. They told us you’d been kilt, you see. Having you back has done as much for Mommy as being freed of them.”

  Blaine stared at her sister, wondering suspiciously where this was leading. It wasn’t the self-centered talk she was used to hearing from Lenie, but she still felt resentment creeping in.

  Lenie didn’t seem to understand that Blaine had been just as scared, just as driven, as anyone here in Shadow Hollers. She didn’t have any idea what it was like to hide, trapped and terrified, in a dairy. She didn’t know what it was like to stare over the hills and see nothing, all her very self caught up in anguished worry about her family.

  Then she heard a quiet echo of Dacey’s voice, one telling her in his simple way not to worry what anyone else thought. His assurance that she was special. So instead of firing off the riled-up words on her tongue, she let the older girl talk.

  “You still don’t see,” Lenie said, having realized she was to get no response from Blaine. “I know you better’n you think — no, don’t look at me that way. You’ve changed some, but so have I — and deep down we still got parts that are the same. And I know you’re gonna go. You ain’t about to settle yourself down here and start looking for someone to work you and order you around. You think I am? But it don’t bother me, Blaine, cause instead of fighting it with claws out, I got other ways to get a man to look at things my way. If you’d realize that, you’d quit facing everything with all that fire in your eye. Things are what they are, and having a man to look after you ain’t the worst thing that could happen to you.”

  “Mommy used to have fire in her eye, too,” Blaine said bitterly.

  “Well, she don’t no more, an’ that’s why I got my own ways of dealing with a man. It’s not too late for me, or even for you. But you get all snorty about it and run off to find where things suit you, you’re gonna take every last bit of fight out of Mommy. I hope you think about that real hard before you go.”

  Blaine thought about it. She turned her reflections inward, to images of her mother. First, the tired, resigned soul who simply wanted to keep her family healthy and fed, then a younger version, earlier memories, when that face had smiled more often, had fewer lines in it and less gray in the brown hair that was so much like Blaine’s.

  But the strongest image of all was that shocking first encounter in the meeting hall, when neither mother or daughter had quite recognized one another. Blaine now recognized the hopelessness in that change...a thing worlds different from Lottie’s normal worn-out visage.

  In the week since the Freed Day, some of that hopelessness had disappeared, and enough of Lottie’s spark — tenuous as it was — had returned to direct the strict cleaning of their neglected house, to take pride in what she’d done at the meeting hall — even to take pride in Blaine.

  Should Blaine leave, what then?

  Blaine looked up at her sister, who was satisfied with what she had wrought.

  “I got peas to hoe,” Lenie said simply, and left Blaine alone with the graves. Alone to think about what she would or wouldn’t do.

  Blaine twisted around to stare at Lenie’s retreating back — hips a-sway — as she walked down the hill, and settled back to her heels with a sigh.

  Her sister was right, of course. Or at least, she had chosen a way that was right for herself. Blaine doubted she could mend her looks enough to turn a man’s head, and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to sweeten her attitude to the flirt and beguile that Lenie so ably employed. No. Quiet rebellion, sometimes not-so-quiet rebellion. Those were her tools.

  A cold wet smear on the back of her neck startled her — she jerked around, her bottom sliding off her heels onto the damp gr
ound.

  Blue. How could she have been so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard the lumbering hound? She patted the ground beside her and Blue pushed up to sit tightly against her. He had missed her, he let her understand. Well, she had missed him too. It was comforting to know there was anything out there that cared as much as Blue.

  “Your sister’s got some turnings in her head I wouldn’t have guessed,” Dacey said. He was up the hill a ways, and coming down on quiet feet.

  And how long had he been there? Blaine gave him a narrow-eyed stare, and it was enough.

  “I was going down to your house,” Dacey said. “Blue brought me here instead. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “So you listened?”

  Dacey said nothing, only watched her with the intense eyes that would now always be just a little bit different. But then, Blaine had always thought there was a difference, even before the Annekteh unwittingly wakened his seer’s sight. Eventually she dropped her own gaze, regretful of her words. She knew his decisions always had reasons. This time it meant giving Lenie her say.

  “I guess she hid it well from me, too,” Blaine said. “I never figured she saw what I saw in Mommy.” She looked back up at him, scowling. “But her way’ll never be mine.”

  “No,” Dacey agreed, “you just got too much o’ that fire. Don’t believe there’s any putting it out.” She scowled harder, but he just grinned at her.

  “Well,” she finally muttered, and pushed off on Blue to climb to her feet, “I guess I won’t never be able to change that. Not till I’m all wore out and got a big family.”

  “Family’s important, Blaine.”

  Blaine looked down at the soft, scuffed toes of her boots and wouldn’t admit that he was right.

  Dacey sat down on the ground outside the grave area and looked at Blue. “He’ll miss you. I guess he thinks you’re family, now.”

  “I never did understand why he picked me, anyway. You know better’n most that I ain’t much for a petted-on hound. Especially,” she added with fierceness that did not reach her eyes as she looked down at the dog, “one that drools and blows its cheeks out all the time.”