Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels

by Tara Maya, Elle Casey, J L Bryan, Anthea Sharp, Jenna Elizabeth Johnson, Alexia Purdy (epub)

  “But we won.”

  “Even so.” She met his eyes with such hollow despair that he recoiled. “The kiva beneath this tor is no ordinary chamber. It was crafted by the fae, and can only be opened by magic. But we cannot dance it open until the entire hill has been cleansed of blood. By then, the children will have died from lack of air.”

  Kavio, remembering his own Initiation well enough, understood. Initiation made children taste their mortality. Now, however, mock tomb would turn true tomb.

  Brena collapsed to her knees, hopeless past weeping.

  Chapter Seven

  Test

  Dindi

  Each breath hurt.

  Voices from the darkness had been complaining about feelings of suffocation since the stone had been rolled over the exit, but now it was no figment of a nervous imagination. The air smelled rank. Dindi had thought thirst would kill them before hunger, but it seemed asphyxiation would beat out both. No one could deny it now: they had been abandoned to die. Quiet weeping echoed from somewhere. No one hushed or chided the weeper.

  What had happened to the Tavaedies? Did they lie dead in heaps from war or plague, or had they chosen to sacrifice the children to the Deathsworn for some dark purpose? All the theories had been advanced, hashed and rehashed, debated, refuted and revised. They still knew nothing, except that they were going to die.

  “Dindi, I don’t feel well,” Gwenika said. She sounded awful.

  “You have to hold on.”

  “I don’t think I can.” Even more breathily, “I’m not sure I want to. I’m so tired of fighting. I just want to let go.”

  She sounded peaceful, which drove Dindi to panic. She shook Gwenika. “No! You can’t rest! If you sleep, you’ll never wake up!”

  “If only we could hibernate like bears…” she trailed off.

  “Gwenika? Gwenika!” No answer. Gwenika felt like a limp weight in Dindi’s arms. Her body was still warm.

  Dindi felt too tired to cry. The same lassitude that had stolen Gwenika away crept over her like a thief.

  Hibernation reminded Dindi of something. A trance. She closed her hand around the corncob doll tied to the ribbon about her neck. Every time I go into the Visions of the corn cobdoll, time seems to slip by in a funny way. But wait—that will only help me. What about Gwenika? Is there any way I can extend the trance of the corncob doll to her?

  Dindi wasn’t sure, but she knew they would al

  l die if she did nothing. Share,> she wished to the doll. Share with us all.

  The Vision world appeared, as though superimposed upon the real world. Dindi could see both, yet it felt as though she didn’t fully sit inside either. The Vision world extended as far as Gwenika.

  Further. She tried to push it with her mind. Whether because of her silent command or some other cause, the Vision world billowed until another handful of Initiates fell under its glow. A few of them were still conscious and they blinked in surprise.

  If she pushed too far, too hard, would she ruin what she’d already achieved? She feared to ask for too much. On the other hand, what if the alternative meant that the Initiates left out of the trance perished because time passed for them, breath by breath, until they ran out of air?

  Further! Share with us all!

  The Vision exploded.

  Vessia

  Vessia trailed the delegation from the Tor of the Sun. The agreement was that both sides would send a delegation to the Tor of the Stone Hedge, the megalith circle upon an artificial hill. They never noticed her, not even the War Chief Hertio, or her friend Danumoro, or any of the Tavaedies or warriors, because she kept to the shadows and backs of things. Stones thicker and taller than grown men stood like sentinels in three circles, one with in another, on the hill. The huge basalt rocks provided perfect cover.

  Inside the innermost circle of stones, two half moon arcs of hide rugs had been set out. Each side stood facing one another, with the food piled in baskets on mats in between. Only Tavaedies and Zavaedies were present, and all wore full regalia. It had been the argument between Danu and the War Chief Hertio of the Yellow Bear tribehold, over what Hertio should wear, which had first alerted Vessia to this secret meeting. Danu had pressed him not to openly flaunt Yellow Bear’s wealth, but Hertio had scoffed, “I won’t go dressed like a beggar.”

  Hertio’s costume jangled with so many disks of beaten gold that his shuffle to the center of the circle sounded like a flock of woodpeckers. The enemy wore a musk-scented robe of winter fox tails and his mask featured a wooden foot stepping on a bleached human skull. With their masks, the two leaders looked like eight-foot giants confronting each other. Vessia wondered if they would fight.

  The man in gold bent to his knees in front of the man in white. A tangible groan swelled from the Yellow Bear onlookers, not so much heard as felt, like a subtle earth quake, a shared tremor of shame. Lower still bent the man in gold, until his mask sank into the grass. The man in white lifted a foxfur boot and stepped on Hertio’s neck.

  The man in white removed his foot-on-skull mask. “I spare your life and your tribehold in the name of my master, the Bone Whistler.”

  A jolt of recognition hit her when she saw the enemy leader. It was the handsome prisoner—Vio the Skull Stomper.

  Hertio left his mask face first in the grass when he stood. Unlike Vio, who only looked haughtier with his face showing, Hertio had shrunk. The bulky gold costume now looked ridiculous with his tiny head sticking out from the wide shoulder spikes. He slunk back to his side. All Tavaedies of both sides removed their masks and sat down at the mats to feast. On the Yellow Bear side of the feasting court grim faced men and women picked at their food, eating only enough to avoid giving offense, while across from them the Rainbow Labyrinth Tavaedies gorged themselves and laughed at jokes they pitched too low for their hosts to hear.

  On the enemy side, next to Vio the Skull Stomper stood a taller, thinner man who shared many of his features, including handsome charm. The third man lacked a lovely face. Judging by his bulging muscles, he did not lack strength. All three were much younger than the usual Zavaedies that Vessia had seen in the Yellow Bear tribehold. Danumaro had said that the Bone Whistler’s whole army was like that, “because none of the elders would serve him.”

  At length, Vio made an announcement. “I am Vio the Skull Stomper, Purple Zavaedi to the Bone Whistler, of the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe. This is my brother Vumo, the One Horned Aurochs, the Green Zavaedi; and my friend Gidio the Bull, the Red Zavaedi. We are here on behalf of the War Chief of the Labyrinth, the Bone Whistler.”

  “We know who you are, Skull Stomper. What are your master’s demands?”

  “As you know, the Rainbow Labyrinth experienced a number of plagues some years ago.” Vio leaned back, at his ease. “My master was called in to eliminate the plagues, which he did. But he did more. He found the source of the plague. Imorvae scum had been casting evil spells upon our people. He vowed to destroy all such hexers.”

  “We also experienced some blight to our crops and livestock,” Hertio replied stiffly. “We did not find that any people were to blame, no matter what form of magic they practiced.”

  “You were mistaken,” said Vio, unruffled. “Many-Banded Imorvae hexers were to blame. And some of them, unfortunately, escaped the great cleansing undertaken by my master.”

  Vio looked directly at Danumoro.

  The direction of the eyes indicates the direction of the thoughts, Vessia remembered Danumaro telling her. Vio knows that Danomaro is one of the Imorvae who escaped.> For some reason, this disquieted her.

  “I repeat,” said Hertio. “What are your master’s demands?”

  “The Bone Whistler has no wish to inflict the cruel wounds of war upon innocent people. Do you really want your tribehold to hear the wails of widows and orphans just to save a few outtribers?”

  “I will not ask more than thrice,” said Hertio. “What are your master’s demands?”

  “Surrender all of the Imorvae Ta
vaedies within the hold, and turn back any more that seek refuge in your lands,” said Vio. “Do that, and he will spare you the blooded spear. Refuse and we will consider your defiance as a deathdebt unpaid.”

  “Then here is my answer,” said Hertio. “Better the blooded spear of war than the broken dagger of an oathbreaker. I gave my word as a refuge to those in need, and my word will stand.”

  Vio laughed softly. “You know that you cannot resist once you hear the song of the Bone Flute. No one can.”

  “I know,” said Hertio. “And that is why I have a counter offer.”

  Vio raised his brows.

  “Your master has a Bone Flute that no one can resist. But I have a dancer whom no one can resist. We call her the Corn Maiden because she is as pretty as a living doll. If I give him the Corn Maiden, let him pass us by—”

  “No!” shouted Danumoro, rising to his feet. “You cannot betray her! She is your guest too!”

  “I have never given her my pledge,” said Hertio sharply. “If she had accepted your offer of marriage, Danu, then I would never dream of turning her over, but she rejected you. You owe her nothing.”

  “It is not a matter of what I owe her, it is a matter of what is right,” Danumoro said. Tears streaked his cheeks. He fell to one knee before Hertio. “I beg you, do not turn her over.”

  “It is too late,” said Hertio. “I’ve already sent warriors to fetch her.”

  Danumoro shook his head.

  Warriors, those Hertio had sent, Vessia presumed, entered the circle of stones. “She has fled!”

  “This is a load of aurochs’ dung,” the enemy called Gidio said. “What is the point of this charade?”

  “It is no charade, when you see the maiden dance, you will understand,” said Hertio. The skin of his face beaded with sweat. “We will find her, she often wanders off, I doubt she has fled, and when you see her, you will gladly take her in place of everything you asked.”

  “One girl? I doubt it,” said Vio.

  “She’s odd, but she’s not stupid,” said Danumoro. “She found out your plans, and ran away! You’ll never find her.”

  “What are you so happy about?” Vio asked him. “If I had agreed to take her, it would have saved your life.”

  “I would never buy my life so steeply,” Danomoru said.

  Vessia stepped out from the shadows behind the megaliths and walked down the center of the grassy circle, until she stood directly between Vio and Hertio.

  “There is no need to look for me,” she said. “I am here. I will dance, if you like.”

  The three men stared at her as if they had never seen a woman before.

  “I should have known he must have been speaking of you,” said Vio the Skull Stomper. An expression almost like pain convulsed his face.

  The one called Vumo whistled and said to Hertio, “You didn’t exaggerate her beauty. Once we conquer you, I think I’ll ask my master for her as my share of the war booty.”

  “You stinking carcass for vultures,” said Danomoru.

  Vumo laughed at him. “She already turned you down. How do you know I’m not just what she wants?”

  Vessia looked him over. “You aren’t.”

  This time Vio chuckled. He elbowed his brother. “So much for your charm with women, Vumo.”

  “I can win her over, just give me time,” said Vumo. After some thought, he added, “And beer.”

  The three men laughed. Vio’s eyes never left her though. He looked as though he wanted to devour her.

  “You are a Tavaedi?” he asked.

  “I dance.”

  “Imorvae, I suppose. Many-banded.”

  “I dance what I dance.”

  “Dance, then.” Vio folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. Challenging her. “Let us see what’s so irresistible.”

  Hertio clapped his hands and women who ducked their heads hurried to clear away the uneaten feast. No one spoke of moving to a dancing platform, nor did it occur to Vessia to ask. She began to dance. And all around her, the stones burst into light, and into song.

  Dindi

  Caught up in the Vision, Dindi still retained enough of herself to recognize the unearthly music that haunted the Corn Maiden’s dance. The tune tormented her, it was so familiar. Where, where, where have I heard it before? She strained to hear, but there were no words.

  Then she remembered.

  The Corn Maiden was dancing the tama of the Unfinished Song.

  It was the simplest of dances. Bare feet on the grass, skipping in a circle, arms raised in joy. So stark, so beautiful. No wonder Mad Maba had thought she could do this tama, if she could do no other. Anyone, anyone at all, could dance this tama.

  I can dance it! I can learn it from watching her.

  If I only I can remember it. If only I can hold on and never let it go.

  But the Vision went on, and she had no way to awaken from the past.

  Vessia

  Vessia danced now as she always had, and as always, it seemed a mere wink of time. Yet hours passed. The moon-cast shadows of the stones crossed over her while she whirled. Then the sun-cast shadows from sunrise crossed her the other way. When the shadows of the moon and sun, filtered by the position of the stones, both touched her, she stilled. Time blinked, awakened.

  Vio stretched and rubbed his eyes. He shook himself. “By the Seven Faeries! It’s dawn! We were watching you all night.”

  She looked at him.

  “You aren’t even sweating,” he marveled. “What are you?”

  “I must have her,” said Vumo. “At any price. I must have her!”

  “You must have her?” Vio asked coldly. “You forget yourself, little brother. We serve the Bone Whistler. But I agree with the basic idea.” He bowed to Hertio, who was also rubbing his eyes. “We will take your bargain, War Chief of Yellow Bear. We will take the Corn Maiden.”

  “Then you must take me as well,” said Danumoro, rising to his feet.

  “Don’t be a fool, Danu,” said Hertio. “It was out of friendship for you that I did this.”

  “Then you never understood what it meant to be a friend,” said Danumoro.

  Brena

  Brena bowed her head over the fallen body of her enemy. Though he hadn’t driven a spear through her heart, he’d killed her all the same. She wasn’t sure why she had saved him from Kavio’s blow. To spare his life, or to keep him alive until she could drive the bear’s black arrow through his heart? Would she do that, take the life of an enemy in cold blood, a human sacrifice? With Gwena and Gwenika dead…

  The young man who had fought with such supremacy touched her on the shoulder. She supposed she should apologize to him for misjudging his honor, but she didn’t have the strength. In any case, he seemed preoccupied with another matter, asking, “Would rain cleanse the hill?”

  “I suppose,” she said. She rolled her eyes to the cloudless, moonless sky. “Do you know how often it rains in Yellow Bear?”

  “No less than it does in the desert canyons of my home, I imagine,” he said, and she remembered he had originally been from the Rainbow Labyrinth. “But I am a Rain Dancer.”

  Her jaw dropped. When he requested a clear space to dance, she nodded dumbly and staggered back to tell the other Yellow Bear warriors and Tavaedies to drag the bodies out of his way.

  “He claims to be a Rain Dancer,” she told them, suddenly afraid to believe it. Many Tavaedies claimed such powers, but true Rain Dancers were more rare than rain itself.

  Nonetheless, everyone worked to remove the bodies from the center of the Stone Hedge. Brena helped organize teams to help the wounded and carry away the dead. All the while, however, out of the corner of her eye, she watched the young man, and was aware when he began to dance.

  As his fighting had been flawless, so was his dancing. Otherworldly grace whispered in his movements, sending chills down her spine. Something about him frightened as much as awed her. She was glad he was not her son, and wondered what his mother thought of having bor
n such a fearfully powerful child.

  Thunder clapped above, startling her. Hard torrents of rain out of nowhere pelted the hill. Gore and grime streamed away in the sudden flood. The water felt delicious against her bare back, washing away the ache of the lash marks along with the blood. Not just rain, she realized, a healing rain. Her amazement deepened. Those who danced the most powerful of Blue Chromas might dance rain, but who could dance healing and rain, Yellow and Blue, into the same spell?

  Ten minutes of bucketing rain battered the hill, then ended as quickly as it had started.

  “Who are you?” Brena asked him, but he didn’t hear her. His attention snapped to watch someone walking across the clearing.

  Hertio, the War Chief of Yellow Bear tribehold, threaded the rings of stones, with his elite band of Bear Warriors in tow. He must have arrived some time during the Rain dance. He pointed to the young Rain Dancer.

  “Seize him!” Hertio commanded. “He is an exile from the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe.”

  “No!” cried Brena, daring to thrust herself forward. When Hertio turned to look her up and down, she blushed, but persisted. “He may be an outtriber, even an exile, but he fought on our side. He saved us!”

  “Did he?” asked Hertio. “Or was he in league with the Blue Waters tribe all along? The Initiates are dead. Perhaps it was the plan all along to distract us with a fake battle while they suffocated.”

  “No!”

  “No, they didn’t suffocate? If they are still alive, then what are you waiting for? Perform the spell that will allow them to arise out of the earth. Finish the ceremony you came here to perform. My men and I will take care of the wounded, the dead and the prisoners of war—including this one,” he jerked his finger at the Rain Dancer, “until we can determine if he is friend or foe.”

  Brena