by Anne Logston
Abruptly Valann dropped from the limb above them, confronting the humans boldly.
“She came seeking her brother, and she has found him,” he said. “And who comes seeking her?” He scowled fiercely, his hand resting threateningly on his knife hilt, although he made no move yet to draw the blade.
That was enough. Ria let her don’t-see-me drop and stepped out of the bushes.
“They’re my foster parents, High Lord Sharl of Allanmere and High Lady Rivkah,” she said ruefully. “And their son Cyril.”
When she glanced at the humans, however, she was silent in shock. Lord Sharl and Lady Rivkah might have been riding day and night without cease, their plain riding leathers were so soiled and their faces so grimed and drawn with exhaustion. Blood stained their clothing in places, and Lord Sharl’s right forearm and wrist were wrapped in bloodstained bandages. Lady Rivkah’s head was bandaged, too, and the edge of an ugly bruise showed past the bandages. Cyril, however, had fared the worst. His right shoulder and thigh were bandaged, and there was a frighteningly dark stain on the left side of his tunic.
Slowly Valann took his hand away from his knife hilt.
“There’s a camp in those bushes,” he said slowly, gesturing. “The boy can rest on the pallet there.” He turned to Lady Rivkah. “Rowan told me you were a healer.”
“I can use healing magic, yes,” Lady Rivkah said tiredly, stepping over to help Cyril down from his horse, “when I haven’t exhausted my power fending off hostile elves and concealing us from patrols so they couldn’t finish what they’d started. Not to mention using tracking spells to find our way when we were driven away from the trails we’d been following. Are there any healers here?” she added anxiously. “I thought I detected someone approaching from the east, close by.”
“Who’s coming?” Lord Sharl said quickly, drawing his sword despite his obvious exhaustion. Cyril stumbled over to one of the altars, leaning against it and reaching for his own, sword.
“Do not dare draw your weapon in this place,” Val hissed, hand again on his knife hilt. He sniffed the air. “Those who come have a right to be here, and you have none.” He turned to Ria, grimacing. “Rowan, Eldest of Inner Heart, who has been as my mother from birth, her mate and Inner Heart’s Gifted One, Dusk, and my mate Lahti, all riding on deer. I’m surprised only that they didn’t track me here sooner.”
“Maybe they weren’t attacked three times by hostile patrols,” Lord Sharl said wryly, “but maybe their mounts rode around in circles like ours did. Maybe deer crossed and recrossed your trail until the gods themselves would’ve needed signposts to follow.”
Ria glanced at Valann, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Lord Sharl’s pursuit explained Chyrie’s haste to bring Ria to her brother; no doubt she’d had deer trampling their back trail to confuse their pursuers.
Ria hurried to Cyril’s side and helped him boost himself up onto the flat stone where he could sit more comfortably. Somehow all her anger and resentment at her human family seemed insignificant when she looked at the stained bandages.
“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously. He seemed so weak and pale.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Cyril said gamely, but his grin was pained. “Nothing dangerous, but it looks like I’ll be the one limping for a while.”
There was an awkward moment of silence as the five of them eyed each other. At last Cyril turned to Val.
“So you’re Valann,” he said quietly. “Ria’s been wondering about you as long as I can remember. I’m glad we were both finally able to meet you.” He extended his hand.
Valann stared blankly at the extended hand, but made no effort to take it. Then reluctantly he stepped forward and embraced Cyril carefully, to the human’s vast surprise.
“You are the one with whom my sister was to be forced to mate,” he said. “She told me you fought for her freedom. For that kindness I honor you as if we were born of the same womb.”
“I—thank you,” Cyril said awkwardly, forcing himself to return the embrace. “I only wanted Ria to be happy.”
“Happy? She’s fortunate to be alive, and so are we,” Lord Sharl said impatiently, tying his horse to a tree. “Still, if you say Rowan’s coming, we may as well wait for her.”
“No need to wait,” Val said, shrugging. “Rowan is here. I’ll bring them.” He vanished into the undergrowth with a suddenness that unnerved Ria.
As soon as Valann was gone, Lord Sharl rounded on Ria.
“I hope you realize this little adventure of yours could have gotten you killed, and us with you. I didn’t dare bring guards into the Heartwood for fear of provoking every elf in the forest into a massive battle—not that the guards would’ve been much help against elven patrols hidden in the bushes and trees and shooting arrows that probably would’ve pierced the stoutest armor. They’d have killed us if Rivkah hadn’t managed to hide us with her magic. Cyril’s badly hurt, thanks to you, and if I can’t manage to make some kind of treaty with Rowan, it may be even more dangerous getting back out, now that Rivkah’s exhausted.”
“There will be no danger if you leave passing only through the blighted lands, and I will tell you that road,” Rowan said quietly, following Valann into the small clearing, Dusk and Lahti behind her. “Not all clans are so easily fooled by human magic as they were when last you used it to cloak your journey into our forest. Many small noses followed your scent, many ears marked your passage, and carried that message to Dusk. Fortunately we were already bound for the Altars in search of our wayward Valann.” She laid her hand on Valann’s shoulder. “Strangely enough, there was no trail at all to follow, and not a beast or bird seemed willing to give Dusk any idea of his whereabouts. When Hawk’s Eye sent a bird bearing the news that Ria had come to the Heartwood, however, we knew where Chyrie would take her.”
“Maybe the patrols had beast-speakers, too. That must be how they found us,” Lady Rivkah murmured. “We thought they’d found some way to see through magic.”
Dusk chuckled dryly.
“I imagine most of the patrols near the border were seeking Valann, not a band of humans, as he was the last to trespass on their lands, and his exploits no doubt in part explain why you were attacked so fiercely,” he said. “But magic notwithstanding, I have no doubt that Valann would have been the more difficult to find, for all the noise your huge riding beasts make and the wide track they leave.”
“And you are Ria.” Rowan stepped closer to Ria, gently tracing the bones of Ria’s cheeks with her fingertip before pulling Ria close in a warm embrace. “There’s much of your mother in your face. Welcome among us, little one. Many of us have prayed to the Mother Forest that one day you would come home.”
“I’m glad to be here,” Ria said, infinitely relieved at her welcome. “But Cyril’s badly hurt, and he’s my good friend. Is there someone who can help him?”
“Lahti and I will tend to him,” Dusk assured her. “We’ve both dealt with arrow wounds many times.”
Lord Sharl cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Look, I can’t say I planned this meeting to happen in this manner, but since it has, I’d like to see something good come of it. It seems to me that I recall Rivkah and myself getting into a good bit of trouble just for being in this place. Is there somewhere else we could go to talk and have my son’s injuries tended?”
Val scowled darkly at the interruption, and even Rowan frowned gently—what could possibly be more important than the reunion of kinfolk?—but the Eldest nodded, took Ria’s hand, and turned away, leaving the others to follow or not as they chose. Lord Sharl hurriedly grabbed the leads of the horses, pulling Rivkah after him, although the High Lady gave a troubled glance toward Cyril. Cyril waved to her to go on, watching Valann as he leisurely bundled up the sleeping furs and supplies from his makeshift camp in the bushes, then wrinkling his brow in puzzlement as Valann laid the bundle on one of the altars.
“Are you just going to leave it there?” Cyril asked hesitantly.
“They’re not mine,” Valann said, shrugging. He glanced narrowly at Cyril. “Do you need assistance walking?”
“I think I can manage.” Cyril stood upright, holding his side. “As long as we walk slowly.”
Val nodded shortly, slowing his pace to match the human’s. After a long moment he spoke again.
“Why do you wish to take my sister as your mate?”
Cyril hesitated thoughtfully, then sighed and shrugged back.
“Sometimes I’m not sure I do,” he said. “Mother and Father could give you a hundred good political reasons. Mine are a little different, but they sound just as worthless when you say them out loud.” He pulled a leaf from a bush as they passed and tore it raggedly in half, holding up the halves. “The two pieces look nothing alike, but they fit together along the edges. I guess it comes down to, for me, a feeling that Ria and I fit together along our jagged edges somewhere. But you said Lahti is your mate, didn’t you? I guess you know all about it.”
Valann chuckled.
“Lahti and I are not yet actually formally mated,” he admitted. “She says it’s too soon to decide, but she smiles when she says it, and she lives in my hut as if we were mates. I think she’ll agree before our child is born.” His smile faded as he remembered the cold, closed faces of the adults as they’d left the fire pit on the first night of his return to Inner Heart. Lahti would need him when their child was born, need his support and love more than ever. Hopefully Lahti would agree to the mating quickly, while Valann was certain that their joining would be from love and happiness, not loneliness and need. “There are many reasons for our mating, too, more than I’d expected. I always supposed it a simpler thing.”
“Lahti’s pregnant?” Cyril raised her eyebrows. “It doesn’t show yet.”
“Our first coupling was only days ago,” Valann said absently. “Lahti had not yet passed into womanhood.” He glanced at Cyril sharply. “As my sister has not. She’s too young still for coupling. Elven women seldom leave their childhood until their third decade, and sometimes their fourth.”
Cyril’s face fell.
“How old is Lahti?” he asked after a long moment.
“Lahti has two decades and five years.” Val glanced at Cyril and felt an unwilling sympathy. His own time of waiting for Lahti had been so short, only a few months, and yet so troublesome. How many long years might this human have to wait for Ria?
“But Ria’s half of human blood, like you,” Cyril protested, “and you’ve grown into adulthood in sixteen years, haven’t you? So won’t Ria grow faster, too?”
“Who can say?” Val sighed, shrugging. “She doesn’t appear to have been speeded in her growth by her human blood, but all things are possible. But I haven’t heard my sister say she wishes to be your mate.”
“I know.” Cyril glanced at Val rather defensively. “That’s between Ria and me.”
“Indeed it is between you, and I wonder that you leave it standing there,” Val said, chuckling a little. “I’ll give Lahti no peace until she agrees to be my mate. You and I, young human male, don’t have centuries of leisure to indulge elven patience. If you are meant to be my sister’s mate, make her believe it. And be prepared to find other lovers to fill your arms while my sister is yet a child,” Val added sternly.
Cyril flushed but said only, “They’ll be wondering where we are. And my father will want me present for the negotiations.”
Val only shrugged and led Cyril outside the circle of stones marking the common land of the Altars. Just outside the circle of stones, Rowan and Dusk had sat down on the earth to face Lord Sharl and Lady Rivkah, Lahti beside them. Ria had settled herself rather awkwardly at the base of a tree, carefully behind Rowan and Dusk, as if the elves were a wall to protect her from her foster parents. Elves and humans alike wore expressions of wary stubbornness.
Dusk and Lahti immediately came to help Cyril settle himself comfortably on the ground while they unwrapped the bandages and checked his wounds. To Val’s untrained eye, they looked serious, and Ria was obviously alarmed, but Dusk seemed relieved by what he saw. To Val’s pride, Dusk allowed Lahti to heal the wounds in shoulder and thigh by herself, after the Gifted One had smelled each wound for any signs of poison or infection and healed the wicked-looking gash in Cyril’s side himself.
“You’ll be well enough, young one,” Dusk said kindly, patting Cyril’s shoulder before he returned to Rowan’s side. “You’ll be weak for a few days from the loss of blood, but the wounds should heal cleanly.”
Cyril pulled his tunic back down and glanced at his parents, then at Ria, hesitating. To Val’s surprise, he turned and gave Val a rueful half-grin, then went to Ria, extending his hand. Ria hesitated only a moment before taking it, and let Cyril draw her to the circle of humans and elves. They joined neither side, but sat slightly apart between them. Val chuckled to himself and took Lahti’s hand, drawing her slightly to the side also so that they faced Cyril and Ria. Lord Sharl spared Cyril only the briefest of scowls before turning his attention back to Rowan.
“I don’t understand,” Sharl said impatiently. “You were willing enough to make a treaty when Allanmere was last settled.”
“I was,” Rowan agreed. “And I’m eager to make peace between our two peoples now. But you must realize that circumstances are different in the forest now. I’ve never spoken for all the clans of the forest, but when we made our alliance just before the war, many clans were willing to listen to me, and perhaps to be guided by what I said. Now I speak only for my own clan, and my words bind no others. I’ve tried for sixteen years and still have formed no lasting alliance among our own people. It’s always been our way that the clans have fought for their territories, and we’re not a people to change our ways quickly. I was centuries trying to forge some unity between our clans before the war, and even with the storm of war gathering, many clans still disagreed with my goals and remained apart. After the invasion, they all fell to fighting again, and after a decade and a half they see no reason to stop. Building an alliance again may take centuries more.”
“You told us Dusk had a vision of another invasion,” Rivkah pressed. “It was the prospect of an invasion that brought the clans together before. Can’t you use Dusk’s prediction in the same way?”
“I am already attempting to do so, and will continue,” Rowan said patiently. “But—your forgiveness, beloved,” she said gently aside to Dusk,“—Dusk’s visions are neither so dear nor so reliable that even my own clan follows them eagerly and without reservation, and they’ve seen the truth of his predictions many times. How can I expect more from the other clans, especially when all Dusk has seen is a vague warning of some unknown time in the future? What he foretold might be decades, even centuries ahead of us. That’s what the other clans will say, if they believe us at all. If other signs come, if other Gifted Ones have visions of their own, that will help us.”
“But there’s your own clan,” Sharl said slowly. “If your own clan formed a treaty with us, might that not lead the way for other clans to follow? If the Hawk’s Eye Clan is sending messages, it seems they have some regard for you.”
Dusk shook his head.
“Since the invasion, most of even our people remember humans only with hatred and fear,” he said. “Only a very few of them actually saw your city, met your people, and have a firsthand memory of any kindness coming to us from humans. The others remember humans as the invaders, the attackers who burned the forest around us, or at least as trespassers and poachers who once invaded our territories to kill our trees and slaughter our game—and continue to do so, I might add. If it were known that Rowan’s clan were dealing with the human rulers of the city, it would hurt Rowan’s chances of forming an alliance within the forest, not help.”
“Most clans prefer their solitude and have no desire to become part of a larger whole,” Lahti said slowly, shaking her head. “If they knew that Rowan was dealing with the human leaders, they might believe Rowan was enlisting the huma
ns’ aid in defeating the neighboring clans and seizing their lands, or perhaps bargaining so that if the humans invaded the forest, Inner Heart alone might be spared.”
“And there’s more still to make me hesitate,” Rowan said frankly. “Sixteen years ago you came to our forest and behaved in a disgraceful way toward our people—” She glanced at Ria and Cyril. “I won’t elaborate in the presence of children the offenses you committed against the Mother Forest. But you came among us intending to cheat us, to use us to your own ends. Only when you bore our geas could I be assured that we wouldn’t be cheated or betrayed. Sixteen years is only a moment here in the forest, but that’s not so for a human. Now I no longer know your motivations, and I fear this is yet another attempt to use us for your own ends. I’m not certain you can be trusted to deal fairly with us.”
Sharl grimaced.
“I could say the same,” he said. “But I suppose I know better. Your folk don’t actually need anything from us anymore, while the elves control all of the timber and most of the good game in the area—things that we in the city definitely will need. Isn’t it enough that the elves are bargaining from a position of power?”
“That power you speak of is an empty promise,” Rowan said, frowning. “Inner Heart cannot bargain with the lands of the border clans, either to grant humans passage there or for wood or game from those lands, so we have little to offer in trade if we desired it. And the elves of Inner Heart are few and the humans many. We have no way to enforce any treaty we make, and no reason to trust that it would be honored.”
“But what if the leaders of Allanmere represented elven interests as well?” Rivkah asked quietly. “What if one of the rulers of the city, Cyril’s wife, was an elf born in the Heartwood—Chyrie’s daughter, in fact?”