“Reached any conclusions?” Finn's voice sounded steadier. Talyn stayed quiet, not willing to risk letting him know her thoughts.
“I'd be all right if you left me some water.”
She went back and sat next to him, making a show of reloading her pistol. “You'd be dead within a few days, and rather unpleasantly.”
“It's nice to know you'd want to share dying with me.”
Talyn laughed despite herself. “We can wait and see how attractive I find that. Perhaps the guardians will lose interest in us. Whatever happens, I'll outlast you; this is my world, remember.”
“This is the longest conversation we've had since the Caisah's party. I should have known death would bring out the best in you.” Finn shifted his leg and again grew pale under his tanned skin.
“You're not really the stoic type, are you?” She primed and charged the pistol before ramming it and laying it at her side.
“Expecting those pillars to come up here?” Finn asked, casting a wary eye on the Salt around them.
“Not that,” she replied, leaning back on the rock for a bit of sun, “but there is an ill vibration in the air. I think there are more than just guardians about the Salt today.”
Finn didn't reply, just took off his jacket and lay down under it to protect him from the painful rays of the sun. She was amazed how quickly he was able to go to sleep. Talyn, though, couldn't so easily escape her worries.
This was a Vaerli place; nothing here should trouble her. Yet immediately she had been challenged. Only now did she recall the words of the Kindred who had saved Finn at Perilous. If they truly did consider the Pact broken beyond all fixing, then the world would become far more dangerous indeed. It was even possible that another Conflagration could be in the offering, as it had hinted.
The Salt crackled as if disturbed, and a feeling of horror rose up the back of her throat. With a start, Talyn leapt up, clutching up the pistol and cocking it. She roused Finn with the tip of her boot.
A gray haze had obscured the horizon to the north, the direction of the Bastion, and it seemed to be moving closer.
Finn climbed unsteadily to his feet as she wordlessly handed him his second knife. It would be nothing against a guardian, but it was important he not panic. Talyn was grateful he asked no questions, for truthfully her own throat had suddenly become very dry.
The silence in the plain had grown thicker as if a storm was approaching. The air crackled with electricity and both their hair was rising to its command.
Finally the mist halted its advance twenty paces from their island. Shapes moved within, but Talyn could sense nothing else from the Seventh Gift. The before-world was just as shrouded. Still, there was foreboding in the air, making her spine run with shivers and her heart race.
She felt Finn hobble closer to her side; there was strange comfort in that.
Slowly something began to gather in the mist. It was human-formed but not large, and the head was covered in what appeared to be a massive hood. Even as it stepped closer, to the very edge of their rock, Talyn could make out no details of its face. The body was a woman's—only as tall as hers but narrower in hip and breast. It wore a thin white shift that seemed to be part of the mist it had come from.
“Talyn the Dark, you trespass on land no longer yours.” The voice from the unseen face was light but bounced oddly in the ears, as if many other voices were whispering a moment behind it. Could this be some sort of Named creature left idle to wander the plain?
“The land belongs to none now that the Vaerli have abandoned it,” Talyn replied curtly.
Whatever the creature was, it ignored her reply. “If you give us the Wrong Man, we may allow you to go.” The unseen eyes turned toward Finn.
He flinched and took a step back, as if that regard was too weighty to bear.
Talyn frowned. “Wrong or not, he is my prey. Find your own.”
“Why, thank you for that,” Finn whispered sharply.
“You are blind if you do not see what is in front of you, child of fools.”
Talyn surged forward a few paces, before recognizing the creature was trying to goad her out onto the Salt. She didn't need to justify her parents to this thing, but honor was another matter. She raised the pistol and fired it straight at the concealed head. The bullet flew true, but the woman was not there. She had stepped aside in the before-time. So this was what it was like to be on the other side of the Gifts—not a pleasant feeling. Talyn had no time to dwell on the hows or maybes.
The hood was cast back, and the true nature of the creature was revealed.
It could have been her cousin or aunt. The golden-brown skin and dark hair were true Vaerli, but the woman-creature before them was twisted in terrifying ways.
Talyn had seen much in her time, but even she took a step back.
The beautiful face of the woman stared calmly back at her, surrounded by a ring of squirming malformed heads that seemed very like to Kindred shapes. They snapped and snarled around her neck, alternately bulging and retreating in what was obviously agony. She took no notice, eyes fixed on the Hunter in icy calm.
“Do you know us, Talyn?” she asked, and each word was whispered in a circular fashion by the corona of heads.
It was the fault of the Fifth Gift. Though the Hunter couldn't recall seeing any such thing, a shadow lingered in the back of her mind, the memory of recollection. It was elusive and maddening because she badly wanted to know what she was facing. The word “us” made Talyn feel like her head was spinning.
She had almost forgotten about Finn. He rested his hand on her back—a bit too much familiarity, but for once she was glad of human contact.
“What is that?” His voice held no fear, just a boundless talespinner's curiosity.
It was not Talyn who answered. The woman, still wrapped in the mist, held out her hand to him. “Come with us, Finnbarr, and we will reveal all to you.”
Even though she was not its target, Talyn felt the woman's power dragging at Finn. With an amazing show of fortitude, he turned away from it.
Putting his hand on her shoulder, he took a few ragged breaths before glancing up with a grin. “Why doesn't she come get me, then?”
It was a good question. It certainly seemed an unremarkable piece of rock, and yet it had appeared suddenly in the nick of time to save them. The earth was the domain of the Kindred.
Stepping around Finn, Talyn glared back with as much conviction as she could muster. “Come claim him, then.”
The unearthly necklace of Kindred howled, but the woman barely blinked. “You may live to regret that, little cousin.” With that, she stepped back into the haze and was gone as if swallowed. The mist slipped away from them like a ribbon being reeled in from somewhere, taking its mysteries and menace with it.
“I think I'd rather just cook up on this rock like a piece of bacon, first,” Finn said with a slight waver in his voice.
“Or I could blow your head off right now, if you'd prefer,” Talyn offered.
He glanced at her sideways. “I hope you aren't serious.”
Reholstering her pistol, Talyn dropped to a crouch and once more scanned the horizon. “Not now, but give me a few days and we'll see.”
Finn laughed and sat down with her.
Let him think it was a joke, but the worrying facts were she had no idea what they were facing. A creature with power, that much was obvious, but why such an interest in Finn? Putorae also wanted him at the Bastion, and she had not forgotten the Kindred that had saved him. Talyn was also beginning to wonder if the Caisah's bounty was not solely because of the performance at the dance. For someone who was supposed to be merely an annoying talespinner, Finn was attracting interest from a lot of quarters.
Talyn had the disturbing feeling that something momentous was happening to which she was only a bystander.
Still, Talyn kicked herself for not sticking to the plan. If she had, right now she would be collecting another golden piece, that much closer to lifting
the Harrowing. Everything had been going much better before she had heard the name Finnbarr the Fox.
With a deep sigh of frustration, she reloaded her pistol once more and tried not to look in his direction.
Traveling with Nyree would have been a pleasant thing—if it were not for the constant fear of the Swoop and the ever-present screeching of their leader. Apparently, eagles were not meant to be kept in cages and bounced around like luggage.
Equo could feel those metallic, golden eyes boring into his back as he followed Nyree up the slope of the hill. The sound of avian revenge was a constant rasping cry, while she attempted to batter her way out of the willow cage the Portree had supplied.
“I can't say I blame Azrul,” Nyree said with a sigh. “If I had wings, I could not bear it either.”
“Better her in a cage than us,” Varlesh called from the rear where he was trying to maneuver their borrowed donkey up the track. The creature was almost as stubborn as Varlesh.
Equo rubbed his sore head and tried to think of something else to discuss. “How much farther until we can Travel, Nyree?”
She paused and wiped her brow. “The Threads of the White Void are tricky things, but if we can find one, we should be able to reach Baraca in an instant.”
“Anything to get out of this damn forest,” Varlesh muttered, casting a concerned eye around at the thick trees they had been tramping through.
It was true—their surroundings did have an unhealthy feel to them. The branches swung low and were almost always in their faces, while the trees rose so high that it was at times hard to tell if it was night or day.
It was the silence, though, that brought everyone's nerves to the breaking point. It felt as though they were the only living things in the woods. Nothing much stirred in a Chaos forest, but when it did it meant danger. Still, it was near the point where Equo would have been glad of something to break the quiet.
“The White is near. I can feel a Thread nearby,” Nyree said in a whisper.
“A handy way to travel.” Equo edged closer so his voice would not get too far.
The Vaerli's eyes were unreadable as she looked up at him. “Using them was forbidden by the Pact. They travel through the realm of Chaos, and that was one thing the Kindred would not allow.”
Varlesh coughed, not very discreetly. “I hate to stand in the way of us getting where we're going faster—but aren't we worried about annoying the Kindred?”
Nyree waved her hand as if dismissing them like a flock of moths. “Since the Harrowing, they seldom dwell near the surface. We should be all right.”
Varlesh exchanged a sharp look with Equo; they both recalled a far more recent meeting with a Kindred. “I do not like the sound of ‘should,’” Varlesh grumbled.
Nyree smiled one of her secret smiles. “There are no certainties in life, friend.”
Azrul screamed, flapping her wings against the cage, making all of them jump.
The forest got darker and quieter the farther they went in. Equo found sweat was crawling down the back of his neck. After a time even Azrul kept her peace, watching them out of baleful golden eyes.
“Not far now,” Nyree kept whispering under her breath. At first Equo wasn't worried about that, but the farther they went on, the more she said it. Each time her voice became softer and somehow more fervent.
She pushed ahead of them just as they broke through into a small clearing. It looked like nothing more than that, but she immediately stumbled and fell into the greenery.
The men all rushed forward. Equo reached her first. Her eyelids were fluttering and her whole body was covered in sweat as if she were on fire.
“What is it?” Varlesh dropped to his side.
“I don't know.” Equo brushed her hair back. Now her skin felt strange under his hand, almost as if it was moving. Blue writing began sliding over her body, writhing and scrambling its way up from under her clothing. It was like watching a snake slither across something very precious; it made his own skin crawl.
It transformed Nyree as they watched. It made her familiar face exotic and strange, but it took away none of her beauty. He recalled what she had said, but could not imagine why she was suddenly being claimed by a seerdom that had remained quiet for hundreds of years.
“We need a camp,” Si said softly.
While Equo watched, the other two quickly arranged a fire and their camp rolls.
“I don't like pitching here.” Varlesh stood at his shoulder. “I cannot see this Thread she spoke of, but the feel of this place…it is disturbing.”
“I agree,” Equo said, “but we don't know what is happening to Nyree. Maybe she needs to be here.”
They made their friend as comfortable as possible, wrapping her in blankets and pillowing her head against the ground. Then the sun went down, limiting their visibility and making them even more uncomfortable.
About the same time as the sun disappeared, Nyree's eyes flicked open, staring into nothingness, and she began to scream. The sound was horrible. He could discern words mixed in with animal cries of pain—but in the Vaerli tongue which he did not know.
Equo felt completely helpless. He could only hold her down to prevent her harming herself as she thrashed around, yelling. It sounded like her throat would break. Varlesh paced with fingers jammed in his ears, while Si crouched nearby watching with interest but seemingly unconcerned.
The words on her skin were burning and shifting as if seeking some particular form.
“Perhaps the Union can help,” Equo yelled over the screams.
“Her magic,” Si's voice pierced the noise. “Hers alone.”
Varlesh looked as though someone was pouring hot lead in his ear. “Perhaps if we just gagged her,” he suggested.
When it came to it, none of them could bring themselves to—so they got no sleep at all. Instead, they took turns watching as Nyree cried out in words they couldn't understand and pain they couldn't relieve.
The thought was not far from any of the three's mind that the horrors of the Chaoslands could be drawn to the clearing. Whether it was some divine providence or just good luck, they made it through to the dawn.
Somehow, with the rising of the sun Nyree dropped back, limp, alive, and breathing, but unable to be roused. In exhaustion the others slept, wrapped around each other in a heap to keep warm.
Equo woke with someone's foot under his ribs. His first thought was Nyree, but when he glanced, over she was sleeping. The Seer's face looked very different carved with strange blue Vaerli words.
“She rests easy now, but I heard her call.” An unfamiliar voice broke the morning stillness.
Equo gazed bleary-eyed up at this new woman standing over him.
She could have killed all of them while they slept, for looking around it was apparent that even Si had not heard her approach. His two companions were still slumbering.
Climbing cautiously to his feet, Equo examined their visitor. She was shrouded in a cloak of deep purple like the night sky just before the dawn. The face beneath was stern, but a carving of mellow brown beauty. She was far taller than he. Equo looked around, but this newcomer seemed to have neither companions nor pack. She simply stood there as if she'd been summoned forth from the Chaos.
Those dark eyes narrowed on him. “I see you, Ahouri, do you see me?”
At his back he heard Si and Varlesh stand, taking positions around him. No form on Conhaero could be hidden from them.
“We see you, Phaerkorn,” Si said.
“There is no blood for you here,” Varlesh growled.
The Witch smiled with a flicker of brilliant white teeth. “You are supposed to know the truth of all forms, so surely you can see I am not hunting you?”
Equo moved nervously to a spot in front of Nyree. “Depends on how desperate you are.”
She sighed and perched herself on the log. “Then let me ease your mind. I have recently drunk from my gewalt long and deep. I need nothing from your veins.”
“Then w
hy are you here?” Equo tried to remember where he had put his long hunting knife in the chaos of the night before.
“Once, your kind and mine were friends of a sort.” The Witch seemed uninspired to move.
“Not friends—allies perhaps, in order to survive the White Void.”
She inclined her head. “Our Twelve-Mouthed Goddess and your Trifold Spirit worked well together. Had they not, neither of our races would have survived. Now we must again trust each other.” She gestured to the still form of Nyree, whose eyelids fluttered like trapped butterflies.
Equo drew his blade. “You may not have her.”
The Witch sighed. “So quick to judge! The Ahouri are much changed. I do not seek Vaerli blood or anything else. I merely came because she called.”
“Explain yourself, woman,” Varlesh muttered, tugging on his whiskers. “The Phaerkorn have not gotten any more sensible with time.”
“One of our number is missing.” The Witch's face flickered with a real and deep emotion. “On her first Blood, what is more! She has made the kill and yet she has not returned, and the one she hunted was Talyn the Dark.”
For once, even Varlesh was wordless. Equo knew the rites to create a Blood Witch were long, arduous, and often fatal. Not many survived them, and everyone who made it was loved. He could imagine the lengths they would go to in order to find their kin. As for killing Talyn—he would want to see the body before believing it.
“I am her matron, the one who brought her out from the sheep of normal kind, so I feel more…responsibility than most. I must find her.” She paused, looking down at her perfect curled hands. “I flew in the clouds, a whisper on the air, until I heard this Vaerli say something which drew me here.” The Witch leaned forward and peered with narrowed eyes at the pae atuae that had now run its course over Nyree's face.
As if on cue, the Vaerli sighed heavily and her eyelids flickered open. Whatever change had happened was not just on her skin. Those dark eyes were now filled with tiny motes of light. Other races had been afraid of the Vaerli before the Harrowing; many had looked at those stars and fallen in love. They said those lights drew out a person's soul and chained it. Fortunately, it was already too late for him.
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