Rebel Fay

by Barb Hendee

  Urhkarasiférin sharply backhanded Rujh's spear aside. "You are not a judge of the forest's natural law."

  "Neither can your Most Aged Father take exceptions upon himself," Rujh answered.

  "You will do nothing without the will of all blood," Urhkarasiférin warned, "that of your people and of mine."

  "Have your clan elders agreed to allow humans to walk among the trees?"

  A ray of hope grew inside Sgäile. "Nor have they agreed to execute them."

  "Speak when spoken to!" Urhkarasiférin snapped, and Sgäile clenched his jaw.

  He watched Rujh's face. Only clan leaders decided such weighty issues for Sgäile's people. Rujh knew this, for it was much the same among his kind. The small man scowled.

  "There is a judgment to be made," he said, and turned away. "We will meet at Crijheäiche… where all will hear of this matter."

  Sgäile quickly reached down and pulled Leanâlhâm to her feet, her innocent face still full of fear.

  "Up," he said to Wynn. "Everyone return to our path."

  Magiere grabbed Wynn's arm and turned back with Leesil close behind. Urhkarasiférin took the lead as Sgäile pulled Leanâlhâm along. Not one of the Äruin'nas remained among the trees. They had all vanished from sight.

  What fuel of lies had Én'nish used to kindle this fire in her hunger for vengeance?

  "Do not stop and do not look back," Sgäile said to the others.

  He knew where Én'nish would head next. The same place he must take his own group in order to shorten the journey. Traveling alone and unburdened, she would beat him to the river and passage down to Crijheäiche. Leanâlhâm's hand trembled in his grip.

  "You are safe," he whispered, pulling her close.

  An anmaglâhk's duty, by life oath, was to protect his people. Sgäile had one failing in this. Leanâlhâm's safety came before all others.

  Chap trotted beside Wynn, longing for the lost talking hide and the privacy to use it.

  He needed to speak with Leesil, and he did not know how else this could be done.

  Chap had never met the Äruin'nas—had never even heard the word until it rose from Sgäile's memories. But now, Chap had things to tell… things he'd seen in Rujh's memories.

  Én'nish, for one.

  The instant he realized what the female anmaglâhk had done, he pulled upon Sgäile's memories, until he felt Sgäile reach a realization. But Chap could not shake off his puzzlement over the tone Rujh used when speaking of Most Aged Father.

  In youth, Chap had known but a few of the Anmaglâhk. Most Aged Father was no elder of a clan, for Anmaglâhk were a caste apart and servants to their people, but their patriarch was still held in high esteem. His word carried the weight of a clan elder, if not its authority. His word held power among the elves. Was that now changing?

  Brot'an and Eillean had believed they took great risks in defying Most Aged Father. The patriarch believed an Ancient Enemy would return, as did Chap's kin. It was the reason they had sent him to Magiere—to keep her from falling into the hands of those who searched for her.

  But what of Leesil?

  His own mother and grandmother had conspired to create him, to train him, in order to kill this same enemy Most Aged Father feared. The thought rankled Chap, and he growled.

  Leesil was no one's tool. Why had Nein'a wanted a half-blood for the plans of her dissidents? And what did Most Aged Father really want with Leesil?

  Chap steeled himself for what would come at Crijheâiche, and what he might have to do to protect Leesil, Magiere, and Wynn from all sides.

  His thoughts were broken as the white majay-hì loped toward him from the trees. Wynn had once compared her to a water "lily."

  Chap agreed.

  Lily kept her distance, glancing hesitantly at those walking with Chap along a wide-open way through the forest. Whenever the breeze shifted Chap's way, he caught her earthy scent.

  His thoughts tumbled through memories passed between them in the night outside the elven enclave. He wanted more of this—more of her. He wanted to run with Lily among the pack. Or without them.

  Was this what passed between Magiere and Leesil? A depth of longing he had not felt since Eillean had taken him from his siblings?

  Lily yipped once in a standing pause, watching him. He did not need touch, as the other majay-hì did, to see her memories. Images of leaves and brush and grass and trees whipping by in the night filled his head. He caught a flash of silver gray running beside her.

  A memory of him.

  Chap remained beside Wynn, but he often turned his eyes to Lily.

  * * * *

  Past nightfall, Leesil sat staring into the campfire that Magiere stoked with more wood. Wynn sat on the ground and struggled with a hay-bristle brush Leanâlhâm provided. But try as the sage might, she couldn't get the last mat out of Chap's coat. The dog's restless fidgeting didn't make it any easier.

  At a light footfall, he turned to find Leanâlhâm approaching. She crouched near him, her expression uneasy. Perhaps the encounter with the âruin'nas still troubled the girl. It certainly troubled Leesil.

  Leanâlhâm watched Wynn's efforts and Chap's scant tolerance with fascination. The girl obviously hadn't known what the sage intended with the brush.

  Osha had gone in search of food, and Sgäile stood at the clearing's far side, speaking in low tones with Urhkar.

  "Magiere, come and hold him down," Wynn called, and Chap tried to belly-crawl out of reach. "He is a mess, but he will not let me finish."

  "You hold him, and I'll do it," Magiere said.

  Chap saw her coming. With a rumble, he licked his nose.

  "I saw that," Magiere warned.

  "You lose again," Leesil said to Chap. This resulted in another tongue-and-nose gesture just for him.

  Leanâlhâm leaned forward. "Why are you talking to the majay-hì?"

  Before Leesil could think up an answer, Wynn pounced on Chap and grabbed his neck with both arms. Magiere dropped on her knees, pinning the dog's hindquarters as she took up the brush.

  "Oh… you stink!" Wynn said, wrinkling up her face.

  The sight of the two women wrestling the dog into submission, and getting as dirty as he, was almost amusing enough for Leesil to forget the day's troubles.

  "No! Do not treat him that way!"

  Leanâlhâm's thick accent made her words hard to catch, and she jumped to her feet indignantly before Leesil understood. She grabbed for the back of Wynn's coat, and Leesil shoved his arm in her way.

  "He is a guardian of our forest," the girl shouted. "Let him go!"

  Both Magiere and Wynn froze and stared at Leanâlhâm.

  Chap's ears perked as he ceased struggling. He rolled crystalline eyes and huffed once in agreement with Leanâlhâm's outrage. It sounded a bit too pompous to Leesil.

  A way off, Sgäile and Urhkar looked on, and neither appeared pleased.

  "It's all right," Leesil said, pulling Leanâlhâm down on the log. "Chaps a bit of a pig. If we don't clean him, he gets unbearable… and he knows it."

  Chap growled at him.

  "Oh, be quiet!" Wynn snapped, and clamped the dog's snout in her little fingers. "Magiere, finish it."

  "And if he didn't really like it," Leesil added, "he wouldn't make it so easy for them."

  Leanâlhâm's face filled with hesitant wonder. "He… understands?"

  Chap shook his snout with a grunt, nearly toppling Wynn forward into the dirt.

  Leesil sighed. They couldn't hide Chap's unusual intelligence forever, but perhaps it was best not to answer too many questions.

  "Done," Magiere said and got up. "It might have gone quicker if you'd kept your butt still!"

  Chap wrinkled a jowl at her and slunk off to the clearing's far side. He flopped down to clean himself. Wynn picked herself up, brushing dirt from her breeches.

  Leanâlhâm was still watching Chap.

  Leesil studied her face. A small loop of her light brown hair was pulled through a wooden ring
and held there over a crosswise wood peg. From there, her hair fell down her back in a tail. Her skin was a bit lighter in tone than his, which was strange considering he had more human blood. She turned to warm her hands by the fire, her expression suddenly too serious.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  She only nodded.

  "If elves don't spill the blood of their own," he asked, "why did you cry out?"

  "I have only seen the Äruin'nas a few times," she answered, "but never so many at once… and so angry."

  This was the most Leesil had heard the girl say to anyone but Sgäile or Gleann.

  "They wanted to kill your companions," she added, "humans, but… they hated me the same way… and you. The words they spoke… terrible things… before my uncle came."

  Leanâlhâm went silent, staring into the fire.

  "People say terrible things about me all the time," Leesil answered. "Don't let it bother you."

  He heard a hiss, and looked up. For an instant, he thought Magiere's vicious expression was aimed at the girl. She stepped slow and steady in front of him, until she stood beside Leanâlhâm while facing away from the fire. Leesil couldn't see her face.

  Magiere's fingertips gently touched Leanâlhâm's shoulder. The girl jumped slightly, but Magiere headed off across the clearing toward Sgäile and Urhkar.

  What was she doing? Leesil was about to go after her before she stirred up another conflict.

  "You are fortunate to have the right hair and eyes," Leanâlhâm said.

  "What?"

  "Your hair is light," she said. "And your eyes are amber. You look more like our people than I do, and you are half human. I am… I wish I had hair and eyes like yours."

  Her words were sickeningly ironic. Leesil wanted to tell her that in his world, growing up, his hair and eyes cut him off from everyone but his parents.

  "There's nothing wrong with who you are, Leanâlhâm," Wynn replied. She sat on a folded blanket at the fire's far side, fingers laced around her pulled-up knees.

  "Leanâlhâm," Leesil asked slowly, "how did you come to be here?"

  "I wanted to tell you that first night you came to our home, but my grandfather and uncle are always worried."

  She watched the fire for a while, and Leesil waited in silence until she spoke.

  "My grandmother was not only bond-mate to my true grandfather, the brother of Gleannéohkân'thva—or Gleann, as you call him. She was also under Gleann's tutelage to become a healer. I call him grandfather because he is the one who raised me. It is the closest word in your tongue for the title.

  "My grandmother traveled with Gleann as needed, helping those who had no healer among their own enclave. Illness spread through another clan's settlements to the southeast, and they went to assist. Grandmother was gathering basha weed in the hills near the shore, which helps lower fevers. She was attacked… by human men."

  Leanâlhâm paused and did not look at Leesil. "Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Wynn whispered.

  "She was badly hurt when Gleann found her and brought her home. In another moon, they knew she was with child. My grandparents did all they could to make certain their coming child would not be treated as an outsider."

  Leanâlhâm's voice broke with a painful breath. Firelight glistened in the tears running down to the edge of her triangular jaw.

  Leesil understood. Even if Leanâlhâm's grandparents had accepted and shielded their half-blood child, some among their people still wouldn't accept it.

  "Grandmother died the night my mother was born," Leanâlhâm went on. "Grandfather was broken inside, as happens among many who are bonded. He left my mother for Gleann to raise. No one saw him again.

  "My mother was… not right in her mind. She wept often and seldom left the enclave's dwelling trees. Except at night, when she might sit alone in the forest. It was difficult for Gleann, as he never found a way to make her feel like one of the people.

  "By the time my mother was of age, Gleann was a most respected healer. A young man with the Spirit awareness came from clan Chiurr to ask that she bond with him—but only if Gleann took him under tutelage as a healer. I think Grandfather was desperate to see my mother have a normal life. He agreed to the bargain. But my parents' bonding was short and then broken by my father, as my mother did not change. He left after I was born and returned to his own clan. By then it was clear that he had never truly loved her, or he would not have been able to leave."

  Leesil knew better. Love didn't always last—and sometimes it wasn't enough.

  "Not long after," Leanâlhâm continued, "my mother disappeared one night. Some in the southwest say a woman was seen heading for the mountains. She evaded all who approached. Perhaps she found a place among humans."

  Leesil waited for more, but Leanâlhâm went silent.

  "You grew up alone with Gleann?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Except for Sgäile, but not until after my mother left… and his last testing to be Anmaglâhk. He was then free to see family again and to live where he wished, though most of his caste live in Crijheâiche."

  Leanâlhâm turned to face Leesil fully.

  "Sgäile's grandfather was bond-brother of my grandmother's father, though he calls Gleann his grandfather in respect. Sgäile and I share blood. He is often away, but his acceptance of me weighed greatly. Sgäile never knew my mother, but he stood for me among our clan, and he is Anmaglâhk."

  She nodded slowly, as if remembering something.

  "He has traveled many lands, but other mixed-bloods are unknown. So you are the first half-blood he has ever met."

  Osha stepped from the trees with two gutted and cleaned rabbits ready for roasting. He also carried a bulging square of canvas tied up by its corners. Leanâlhâm took a long breath and stood up.

  "I should help prepare the meal, as it grows late and we are all hungry… yes:

  Leesil nodded to her. He had no notion what else to say, no matter how much they shared. Words would weigh nothing against the life she had led and the one he had lived. He glanced across the clearing to where Magiere faced Sgäile engaged in some talk he couldn't quite hear. Chap was with them as well. Leesil couldn't help studying Sgäile for a moment.

  The man must have more immediate relatives than Leanâlhâm and Gleann. Yet he chose to call the dwelling of a mixed-blood girl and an eccentric old healer his "home" and these two people his "family."

  Leesil didn't believe he would ever understand Sgäile.

  Magiere approached in quick pounding strides. Sgäile's tension rose and he broke off his discussion with Urhkarasiferin.

  After their confrontation with the Äruin'nas, it had taken a long and heated argument with this woman to keep her and Léshil from reclaiming their weapons. Apparently that debate was not yet settled.

  "No more," Magiere growled at him. "Give me our arms… now!" Sgäile took a long breath. "I understand your concern, but if you had been armed today, we might not have talked our way out. I gave you my word. You will be protected."

  "You can't," Magiere insisted. "We saw that today. What if those people hadn't listened? I won't risk those I care for, whether I believe you or not. It's not about your word or keeping it… it's about failing, regardless."

  Sgäile was not certain how much insult hid beneath her words. He had his ways and customs to follow with faith, and his oath of guardianship to fulfill, and arming this human woman would make neither easy to accomplish.

  "You couldn't even keep Leanâlhâm safe," Magiere whispered.

  Sgäile fought down rising anger. Her voice carried no malice, but his frustration made it seem so.

  "Get me my weapon, or I'll get it myself," Magiere threatened. "Choose!"

  Sgäile hesitated too long, and Magiere took a step toward him. A snarl rose up, and she halted.

  Chap stood between them, braced in Magiere's path against her legs, but his crystalline eyes looked up at Sgäile.

  "Get out of the way!" Magiere snapped.

  The
majay-hì only growled and would not move.

  Sgäile felt a moment's relief that this Fay-touched creature shared his concerns. Then the dog trotted around him, skirting Urhkarasiférin, and headed straight for the bundle and pack that held the weapons and armor. Sgäile went cold inside as the dog sat down next to the arms and stared at him.

  Did Chap not understand anything he had tried to make this ill-tempered human accept? Now the majay-hì appeared to side with her.

  Ever since the time Sgäile went to kill a half-blood marked as a traitor, this unique being's presence had shaken all he believed concerning the ways of his people.

  A memory surfaced in Sgäile's thoughts, of Magiere, her white face aglow, standing by her companions in the forest the night he and his brethren had come to take them. Sword out, she stood ready to defend them from whatever came.

  The memory snapped away, replaced with one of a terrified Leanâlhâm huddled next to Wynn amid the Äruin'nas.

  The majay-hì lifted its paw and shoved the pack over.

  Urhkarasiférin whispered in Elvish. "What is it doing?"

  Still Sgäile hesitated and glanced at Magiere. She folded her arms, waiting, as if the dog's action required no explanation.

  How could Sgäile explain to Urhkarasiférin what he saw and felt? How could be justify relenting to the majay-hì's request?

  Sgäile was bitterly forced to admit that Magiere might speak the truth.

  They had escaped the rightful anger of the Äruin'nas, but it had come too close to bloodshed. Leanâlhâm had suffered for it, despite the final outcome.

  Sgäile knelt before Chap with uncertainty. He unbound Magiere's heavy blade and lifted it with the rest of the arms still in the pack. He held out the sheathed sword, and Magiere wrapped her hand solidly around it.

  Sgäile did not let go. His gaze drifted across the clearing to Leanâlhâm. The girl was assisting Osha in spitting rabbits to cook over the flames.

  Magiere followed his glance and then turned her hard eyes back on him.

  "No one will touch her," she said. "That's my word."

  Sgäile released Magiere's sword.