by Jon Wilson
wondered who would return first, or if Sihr
would come back at all. Part of him believed
Keone had gone out to find her; attending his
soiled clothing had simply been an excuse.
And certainly washing wouldn’t keep him so
long. When he felt his eyelids getting heavy,
Holt rolled onto his back and blinked at the
ceiling. The shed was old, and the
crossbeams lined with cobwebs. He was
dreaming of a small black spider descending
into his mouth when he heard footsteps
approaching.
He held his eyes closed, even when
Sihr’s voice said, “Holt?” There was some
stifled commotion as they came into the room and made out their beds. Holt envisioned
them lowering themselves to the floor. “Oh, shoo!” Sihr said suddenly, very
near his face. He opened his eyes, and she
was frowning, reaching off toward their feet.
She turned back to him and smiled. “A tiny
spider was hovering just over your nose.” He
grunted, and rolled back onto his side, turning
away from her and Keone who lay on the far
side of her, already rolled up beneath his
blanket.
“Goodnight,” she told him anyway, and
he heard her settle in. “Goodnight,” she
repeated more quietly, her head obviously
turned away from Holt.
“Go to sleep,” Keone replied. “We can
only hope that scout’s pride keeps him silent
until we are well away from here.”
Chapter 5 They were well away by midmorning. Holt, finding himself trudging through the snows yet again, decided that worse things could come of their mission than dying. They might survive, and he would have to make his way across the frozen northern country another time.
No one had spoken much as they rose, repacked their supplies and set out. Sihr’s animosity toward her companions had clearly lessened, but she still had not regained her previous penchant for idle chatter. Holt, his stoicism becoming habit, found her silence a blessing. And Keone was proving to act always as if he were the only inhabitant of the universe.
They headed north, with occasional jaunts to the east. The course was not discussed, but Holt remembered the tricks he had discovered during his run with Ardee. He wondered what track Keone was following, for instinct seemed to say the demon was more eastward. He asked no questions, just watched the stonediver’s heels as he struggled to keep pace with him. The man’s skill for moving as silently and tracelessly as a ranger was astounding.
Sihr said to his back, “How is your chest today?”
Holt only then remembered the skillful kick that had stopped his attack the night before. His left hand came up and rubbed over his shirt, his movements small, the better to keep concealed from the girl following him. It did still ache a bit, but he felt keenly disinclined to admit the fact. “What happened with the scout?”
She grunted. “Next to nothing. I’d just found him, and thrown him only twice before Onee swooped down and spirited me off.” She marched onward a few more difficult steps. “It was childish. I deserve to be soundly punished if we ever get home.”
Holt thought it over a moment. “He had it coming.”
She laughed, or very nearly did. Unlike Holt, her agility was hampered by the snow and lack of trail, forcing her to concentrate. “That isn’t the point. I’ve taken the vow.”
Keone looked back over his shoulder. “I’m going to jog ahead, find somewhere to stop for lunch. Keep heading northeast.” He did not wait for a response, but hurried his steps, moving quickly out of sight.
Holt asked, “Do they teach even stonedivers forestry skills at VaSaad-Ka?”
“I’m not sure I like the way you sayeven stonedivers. Some of the most prominent Speakers are stonedivers, Holt. Very few are rangers. But in answer to your question, no. I have never been taught. What Onee knows he either learned from his da’an or knew as a child.”
“But he trusts us to find our way alone?”
“I thought he was trusting you. You seem to know a great deal about treking through the wilderness. Surely he assumes Wika trained you to read your direction from the sun.”
Holt thought not. That was the lie again. And he believed that Keone, of anyone, knew the entire truth about Holt and Kawika. That made the man’s return of the stone even more bewildering.
“What’s the vow?”
“I see I’ll have to teach you how to carry on a conversation. You hop around like one of these Macadre rabbits. The Narat-Tohnin. That Danann will never raise a hand against breeder.”
Holt stopped. “You’veswornthat?”
“Everyone seeking knowledge at the VaSaad must swear it. It’s most important to your blessed rangers. Wika never spoke of it?”
“No,” he told her honestly, forcing himself to start marching again. Here was yet another piece of new information about the Danann he found himself struggling to believe. He had seen the hatred in Kawika’s eyes. “What happens when rangers break the vow?”
“It depends.” She grabbed his cloak from behind, forcing him to slow down. “It is one of the secrets of the VaSaad that in small ways the Narat-Tohnin is compromised almost daily. In my time, no Danann has killed a breeder; at least not in such a manner as to be accused of the crime. But you saw how that scout and his friend reacted when the innkeeper explained what we were. There is a mystique about us, a hint of danger that protects. And also, most governments levy stiff penalties upon anyone convicted of accosting us. That is our reward for living as second-class citizens.”
“You mean why we can’t enter the public houses and order our own food.” Holt heard the spite in his voice.
“That’s also tradition. The breeders give us what we need as part of their tithe. Our rangers protect them, our stonedivers advise them, our artisans and craftmasters teach them. We, in turn, do them the honor of not requesting things from them. It has been that way for hundreds of years.”
Holt took a deep breath. “In my village, they honored the Danann. In their own way.” My father would make one sleep in the shed before inviting him into his house. What a liar I am.
“Of course, out here where reliance upon the protection of rangers is part of survival, things are different. Even on Feathersbone, the Danann are highly revered. The nautical equivalent to the ranger, the mariner, gauges weather conditions and guides the fishermen to the heaviest catch.”
He mulled her words over for nearly half a mile. “Are you really from Belfayne?” “I’m afraid so.”
“Why did you leave?”
“There is no other place in all the world like VaSaad-Ka. The Danann come from every country, or nearly every country. I suspect they make the attempt in every country.” She pulled the tip of her cloak from a twig on which it had snagged. “That is why most believe the Danann should not join in this war.”
“But you’re citizens of Macadre now.”
“No. The VaSaad is an independent state, and relies upon tithes from many countries. DuLyn-Au is in Macadre.”
“And VaSaad-Ka is in DuLyn-Au.”
“DuLyn-Au has grown over the years, spread to encircle the VaSaad, but its mayor and council have no authority there.”
Holt, looking ahead rather than down at his feet, only saw the hand shoot out from beneath the bush at the last moment. Instinctively he sprang back, colliding with Sihr. They both tumbled down onto the snow.
“Very good,” Keone said, rising. “But had I been a troll you’d both be dead.”
“Youfeldyshpig,” Sihr groaned, pushing Holt off into the snow. “I suppose you thought that was a jolly joke?”
Though Holt could hear the levity in their voices, his own heart was pounding fit to burst. He rolled over onto his back as Sihr sat up, brushing the snow from he
r shoulders.
Keone stepped over and offered a hand to Holt. “I’ve made a fire and killed another rabbit.” When Holt ignored him, he turned the hand toward Sihr. “Also, there’s a creek just beyond those trees. We’ll all fill our skins before continuing.”
Sihr let her paradigm pull her upright, and then thanked him with a menacing glare. “First I have to drain my own skin.” She turned and marched in the opposite direction of the stream. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Holt examined the campsite. Like Ardee’s, it was cleverly concealed—although he thought he might have discovered this one on his own. A shallow bowl had been dug between two large bushes and the displaced snow used to build mounds to conceal the site from angles the bushes did not. Three small logs had even been arranged around the fire as perches. Holt eyed the stonediver suspiciously. “Did Kawika teach you this?”
Keone had moved back to the fire and did not look up from checking the rabbit. “Well, some of it I read in a book.”
Holt moved over and sat. He naturally chose the log providing the greatest distance between himself and the stonediver. Though his contempt was beginning to wane, he still harbored a deep distrust of the man. And the alternating moods did not help. The previous day, on the march from Darnouth to ThistleTown, Keone had been nearly as silent as Holt. Today he was joking.
“Ardee would have no trouble discovering this place.”
Keone’s head bobbed up suddenly, his eyebrows nearly meeting in the center. “Why do you say that?”
The gaze was too penetrating; Holt had to look away. “She’s a ranger. She showed me her own camp. You could never have found it.”
Keone offered only a ghost of a smile, turning his attention back on the food. “Not with my eyes, anyway.” He pulled the spit off its supports. “Here. Try that.”
Holt reached to tear off a bit of flesh. “You’d use magic?”
The smile emerged. “Something like that.”
Holt put the meat into his mouth and chewed it a couple of times. It was just as delicious as the innkeeper’s food prepared in a kitchen. He was beginning to grow exasperated with Keone’s seeming infallibility. “You’ll use magic against the demon?”
The stonediver was chewing his own mouthful. He shrugged.
“You can’tfightit.” Holt’s voice cracked. “Kawika fought it. And I’m sure Kawika was a much better fighter than you.”
The man’s eyes came back to him, and this time Holt weathered them. He stared back trying to think of other things—such as the fact they were large and green and handsome.No,he told himself. Kawika’s eyes had been huge and brown and beautiful.
Keone said, “There are many ways to fight.”
“You think you’re a better fighter than he was?”
Keone offered the rabbit across to Holt again. “Well, you certainlysound like a ranger’s ward. Take the entire leg.”
Holt did as he was told. He knew he sounded childish, but Keone irritated him so. Better to stay silent than attempt to discuss anything with the awful man. He bit into the rabbit’s thigh, feeling juices coat his chin.
Sihr rejoined them. “Did you men eat it all?”
Keone offered her the spit and she claimed a healthy portion. All three then ate in earnest for several long minutes. Finally, Sihr broke the silence again. “Which way now?”
Holt felt the large green eyes return to him, but was busy licking his fingers. He did not look up.
“That depends on Holt,” Keone said.
Holt could not resist then, he had to raise his head. The others were both watching him expectantly.
“The demon is most likely resting at this time of day,” Keone explained. “It would be best if we sought him out now. Our search might go unnoticed.”
Holt recalled the agitation of the black monster when he and Keone had tracked it before. It had appeared to actually be capable of seeing them. He recalled its hisses, how it threw back its head and roared.
“If you do not fight me, we can creep in undetected.”
How can I fight you?Holt thought.I am defenseless against your magic. You could grab me up and take me sailing across the sky any time you wished.
“Will you agree?”
He looked from one to the other. Was the stonediver serious? Did he really want permission? Even as doubt and suspicion warred within him, Holt felt himself nodding.
Keone rose, and Holt involuntarily flinched. He had not meant to.
Sihr smiled. “Trust him, Holt. He won’t hurt you.”
The man moved around to place his hands on Holt’s shoulders. “Relax,” he said softly. “That is the most important thing you must do.”
Holt tried, drawing a deep breath. “That’s good,” the voice told him from behind his ear. The hands slid up over his collar, curving around the sides of his neck. The fingertips met beneath his chin.
The hands were already unbearably hot. Holt felt his eyelids instantly grow heavy, as if pushed down from above. In the darkness, the warmth spread throughout his body, melting places he had forgotten were cold. The rediscovery of these frozen regions frightened him.
“Don’t be afraid.” The voice was no longer at his ear, it was from somewhere above him. He looked up, found Keone floating over him in the darkness. He reached up, touching the toe of the man’s boot and began to rise himself.
The darkness was fading to gray and then blue, and they were swirling up through it. The air sparkled like water, and they swam through it like water. Only it was clear, fresh, delicious tasting water that Holt could breathe, and the higher he rose the lighter he felt. Strangely, all the while, he imagined he could still feel the burning hands on his throat. Odd, too, that he could see when he knew his eyes were closed.
Then they were flying and the sky was blue and Holt knew somewhere far behind he sat on a log with Keone crouching behind him and Sihr watching them both as she chewed her lip. And there was G’nash, the clearing, for the tents were gone and all traces of the trolls with them. Holt soared up into the mountains, over the tree-covered ranges and higher into the lands with fewer trees and steep ridges formed long ago by sliding lakes of ice. Caves dotted the landscape—some deep and menacing, some shallow and useless—all glowing black as if calling out to his magical, high-flying gaze. Holt dove down to circle one hole—the cave in which the demon had first hidden itself. But the beast had moved, and as he ascended again Holt’s attention was momentarily diverted by two small bands of trolls waging war on a mountainside. Before he could even resist the urge to investigate, something beckoned further east, and he rolled in his aerial dance to dive toward another cave, high atop a plateau. Again he circled the opening. Deep within, the monster’s ragged heartbeat sounded like a muffled drum. It was asleep, exhausted by the effort to heal itself, and for the first time since leaving the clearing, Holt felt Keone beside him, restraining him. They would go no closer and risk revealing themselves even though the demon’s proximity pulled at the edges of Holt’s sanity and made him long to rip it from its slumber and make it rage and hiss once more.
“No, no, Holt. Not now.” The voice was in his ear again, and the warm hands were gently massaging his throat and the cave and the mountains and the warring trolls were leaving his mind like the indecipherable images of a bad dream. “Open your eyes.”
He did. Sihr was smiling again. “Back with us?” The hand left his neck, and he nodded. The girl looked up at Keone. “Which way?”
“East,” Holt told her.
Chapter 6 Ardee felt like gnashing her teeth. Never in her life had she traveled so far in two days, and yet she knew she was still far behind them. The slowest leg of her journey had been the second. It had taken her almost half a day to reach ThistleTown from Darnouth; she had dared go no faster as every moment she was certain the trail would suddenly turn about. But Keone had tricked her again. Knowing she would expect them to turn north or east, he had gone quickly and directly to the large trading village. The remainder of the day had bee
n spent trying to pick up their tracks leading out. A day wasted. She passed the night at the inn where her quarry had spent the previous evening, much to the unfathomable consternation of the innkeeper, whom she overheard muttering some nonsense about overburdening and destroying property.
The next morning found her hurrying toward Fort Ridge. The tracks were only a day old, and yet expertly cleared. She knew he must leave them and go back behind to eradicate all evidence of their passing so completely. The bastard, leaving too untrained children alone in the wild! But she also knew they were headed for the fort. She would not be tricked a second time. She flew northward, a mere spirit of the wind, whistling through the undergrowth, whipping past startled rabbits and foxes, leaving them stunned and bewildered. She made Fort Ridge in a day from ThistleTown—surely a record—only to discover no Danann with two wards had ever been there.
Fool, fool, she chided herself. She would have gone back over her path immediately, but she knew she must rest. Her body and mind could not function if she tortured them too severely. She paced the small cell off the barracks, rebounding from one heavily-beamed wooden wall to the other, occasionally growling at the moon through the small window. It felt as if the night itself was her enemy.
No, it is that stonediver who has brought me to this. He has taken my child and will get him—will get them all—killed.
She had just coaxed her body into crouching in a corner, resting her arms on her knees and her head on her arms when she heard severalfeldyshfeet approaching. Hardsoled boots, measured steps except for one. The colonel to see her, escorted by two guards.
She waited for the knock before rising and going to the door to open it. In her youth she had enjoyed the startled looks of the breeders when she appeared magically to anticipate their every move. They had all enjoyed it—even Kawika, who affected more respect for breeders than any ranger she knew.Oh, staunch, by-the-book Kawika, you managed nearly to be as humorless as me. But experience had inured her to their fear and loathing, and also, unfortunately, to their bewilderment.
She said nothing as she pulled the door wide, regarding the trio of men with arching brows.
“Please excuse the intrusion,” Colmaire told her, without a lot of insincere entreaty. She appreciated his honesty.Feldyshwomen would appreciate the thick black hair swept back from his abrupt brow. They would marvel over his blue eyes. Ardee found the best she could do was overlook these things. “We seldom see so many rangers in a season, not to mention a week.”