by Pam Uphoff
Rustle passed through the village on her way to leaving it, if not forever, then at least for a long time. She spotted the Auld Wulf leaning against the Tavern. He pushed away from the wall and strolled toward them. Her mouth went dry with lust as she watched his smooth stalk. He stopped at her knee. "Xen looks happy."
"Da!" Xen reached for a hug. "Happy!"
"Oh good. Finally, someone else he'll talk to. I think if we travel a bit it won't be so noticeable how slowly he's growing."
The Auld Wulf caught the boy and hugged him. Reluctantly put him back in front of her. He took her hand, and studied it, laying in his calloused broad palm. "I am sorry that I have driven you to this."
"You aren't what, or who, is driving me."
He ran his thumb over her fingers, then stepped away. "Good traveling. Safe return."
They made it over the pass, despite some remaining ice and snow. And turned south, for Gemstone.
Chapter Eleven
1371 Spring Equinox
Ash
As winter turned into spring Tromp watched the wagons full of eager settlers leave the village, while she was stuck here. Pregnant! Old Gods, what had she done to deserve this?
Getting bigger and bigger. Finally her time came. The first contraction ripped through her belly like a wound, and she remembered wondering if the old man had ruptured her. A second contraction shot a hot poker from belly to brain, hurting, hurting, wonderful hurt changing into ecstasy . . . she climaxed and cried out and that woke her mother and grandmother.
"Oh, this is a bit earlier than I'd expected," her mother dashed about getting the birthing stool, and her grandmother laughed.
"It's her first, Idea! She be in labor for hours. Now honey, you just save your strength, try to sleep in between contractions."
Tromp pretended to sleep to get rid of them, so she could enjoy the contractions as they ripped through her. She could feel her brain opening up again, feel new skills budding, dry lessons suddenly made practical. She laughed and grabbed her abdomen as she gasped with pain and pleasure. Old gods! Make this last a good long while!
It lasted until nearly noon, when she delivered two beautiful little girls in quick succession.
She lay back, content as the softer, after contractions lulled her to sleep. As she drifted off she heard her mother and grandmother talking.
"Goodness. One with dark hair and one with blonde."
"Oh, baby hair doesn't mean anything," her mother scoffed.
Tromp smirked. One could be Havi's and the other that old man's, she'd fucked them just about four days apart. Oh, there's been that cheap officer, too. Very easy to forget. She let sleep take her.
The wail of hungry babies woke her. Irritated she took the first one at hand and popped a nipple in its mouth. The milk release triggered another contraction, and she gasped with pain. Ah, good, and another. This motherhood thing wasn't bad at all. She traded babies with her anxious mother and the baby shoved and nuzzled against her painfully engorged breast and that hurt too.
"Are you all right honey?"
"Oh yes," She grinned tiredly. "I'm just fine."
It put orgies to shame. It was better than the old man. She managed to arrange it so one baby was hungry every couple of hours. It was wonderful. She got sore nipples.
Zenith gave birth a week later, and Cost the day after. Tromp didn't care about their babies, but getting out of bed hurt, so she walked down and visited them.
Neither of them seemed to be particularly pleased by their situation, or appreciative of any new abilities. Hmph. Did she really need her triad? She'd wait till next year, after the new village was founded, the hard work done before she followed them. That would give her plenty of time to decide about Zenith and Cost.
Chapter Twelve
1371 Late Spring
The New Lands
Gemstone was a beautiful circular valley. Rustle chatted with the farmers and miners, and talked to all the teenage boys the Scoone wizards had sired in their sweep through Auralia and brief reign over a small village in the Cove Islands, when she was just a child. They were all between sixteen and eighteen, younger than the goat boys, so she could talk about how the older goat boys' magical abilities had jumped, after the magical suppression of hormones. "I have no way to know if they would have improved without the treatment. I'm offering it, if any of you want it." Some of them rejected it out of hand, others took it. She showed all of them some basic meditation and power gathering techniques. Two boys, much too young be have been sired by a goat wizard showed talent, and she shut their staircases off at their apprehensive requests.
She made a mental note to talk to her dad and Nil about all these young wizards. Then she bought more oats and started off again.
She cut east, to avoid the shanty town to the south. Just because she was a witch was no reason to be over confident in a boom town full of men. Especially if she didn't want to add to her body count.
They kept going east and south east until they found the Rip.
Some of the wizard spells the Sheep Man had taught her were down right aggressive, and she and Xen ate lizards regularly. Or at least their tails.
"Pity to eat so little of the critters, but the rest of them is even fattier than the tails, and even fishier tasting."
"I like lizard tail." Xen demonstrated, popping another piece into his mouth. "I hunt lizards."
"Hmm, I think you need to grow a bit before you can try it, my little warrior."
He stood up, as tall as he was able. "I medigate. I do big spells."
"Meditate. There's more to spells than meditation, but that's where you start." Rustle glanced back at Junk and Phantom. They were settled down, munching the grass she'd cut up on the plains before descending to the Rip to hunt. She looked up. Late summer, and the comets were clear, hanging halfway up the western sky. They'd pass inside the World's orbit a few weeks before the Winter Solstice, then the view would wash out in the daylight. Right about the Solstice they'd pass the World's orbit again, outbound on their four year long orbit. "See the comet closest to the horizon? That's Comet Lamb. In four years it's going to cause a problem. This year we should slide between the comets, and the only danger is that a few that have already lost all their ice could hit the World without us realizing they were even near."
Xen squirmed. "Hit me?"
"No. I won't let that happen." She heard the determination in her own voice. "That's why I meditate and practice. I'll put a magic shield over us, if there's any danger."
Xen lit up. "I do a magic shield?"
"Hmm, perhaps I can teach you some silly rhymes that will help. In fact, buster, I do believe you're almost two years old. We ought to find a way to celebrate that. Then start teaching you some rhymes." She looked thoughtfully at the hot springs below, and shook her head. "Too many lizards, here. We need to find a better spot for a recognition point."
They were far enough south that the Rip was dwindling and the lava strips turning into faults and getting closer together. They turned south and crossed the Rip at an unusually low spot. Rustle stopped on the far side. Meditated, and gathered a memory of the unique characteristics of a big steaming pond.
And the feeling of the teakettle geyser outside her parents' home. She felt the thinness of the spell, the end recognition slithering from her mind.
"Damn."
Xen giggled. "Mum! Damn!"
"I've got to stop saying that." She twisted around to reach her saddlebags. Her pad of notes . . . she dashed off a quick request to the Auld Wulf.
He stepped out of nowhere a moment later. Xen dived at him, got a hug, then plopped back in front of Rustle.
"Stay there just a minute, boy." He touched both horses and stepped across two thousand miles.
The teakettle steamed peacefully beside them.
"You make it look so effortless."
The Auld Wulf flashed a smile. "I'll be back." He disappeared.
Xen thumped his heels in disappointment.
> "He'll be back. Let's go see if anyone is home."
The clearing was so quiet, so familiar. And the house so still and empty.
Then galloping hooves, and her dad was vaulting off a horse to grab her and hug her, and grab Xen. And then her mother and sisters piled in.
It was a proper prodigal's welcome, at least from family and Nil and Justice's family. The other witches stayed away. The Auld Wulf slipped in one evening. Something in his eyes made her breath catch . . . but he only hugged her. And played with Xen. The boy chattered away at him, and followed him as far as the teakettle geyser. That night Rustle rode out, circling the village and turning up to the winery. She walked around it, to absorb the feeling of the Auld Wulf's hotsprings.
A warm laugh spun her around. "Rustle . . . "
She sighed. "I know, dammit. I've always known I was too young for you. I figured maybe twenty-five would be old enough . . . and then those plans came crashing down. Or at any rate the in-between stuff got mangled. But when I'm finally old enough, I am going to pursue you relentlessly."
"And perhaps I can drop my guilt feelings and . . . be young enough for you."
Rustle hesitated. "Don't go and get yourself half killed just for me. I dare say that sleep-and-rejuvenate-for-a-year thing will happen often enough without trying."
He laughed, and stepped up to hug her, and drop her to the ground by the teakettle. Rustle sighed as he disappeared. "Should have killed all eight of those idiots. Messing up my plans for that man."
She walked back to the dark house and crawled into bed.
He brought Junk back the next day, and showed Xen some unarmed combat kicks.
Never shook her head at the sight. "That would be silly enough with a well coordinated two year old." She glanced at Rustle and winced.
Rustle tried to moderate her expression.
Never didn't say another thing about Xen's progress for the three days they stayed, but Xanthic and Young shared all the village gossip, even the bits that hurt. Never was crying when Rustle mounted up. The Auld Wulf took them back to the Rip. And left without kissing her goodbye. Dammit.
They followed the Rip south. It made navigation simple, provided water with a simple purification spell, and warmth as the nights cooled.
She sang the songs of the New Year on the Winter Solstice, but it felt odd, without snow . . . without other voices.
One thousand, three hundred and seventy-two years since the Exile. I wonder how old the Auld Wulf was, when it happened? I wish they remembered more of it.
She relaxed in the grass beside Xen, staring at the comets and the streaks of falling stars.
Rustle shivered as she stared up at the spectacular sky. In four more years . . .
She reached, mentally, and could feel the meteorites as they streaked past, too fast to do anything to them. She gathered more power, and pushed her awareness further, higher. The tenuous, thin air felt hot. She pushed further. A rock . . . she swatted at it, watched it bound higher and zip off out of reach. She reached, stretched . . . flopped back on the grass with a pounding headache.
Just as well I advanced early. Perhaps I should have stayed home for more training, even second hand. But nothing can rush the next step of my advancement. There's not enough time for Xen, let alone a theoretical sister, to grasp power. If the comet is going to hit, we'll just have to do our best.
***
The air got chilly, but they were far enough south that when a storm reached them, it was just rain and wind, no snow at all. Rustle molded enough rock to keep both people and horses dry through the first storm. Counting major fault zones she was fairly sure when they passed from being north of the kingdom to north of Verona. Then they turned directly east, staying north of the Old Road and the actual start of Veronian civilization, although the northern border was so nebulous she had no idea where she was in relationship to it.
They lived like nomads and grew ragged and scruffy.
But well fed. Rustle's old unnoticeable spell worked on all sorts of animals. Rabbits, pheasant, deer, and bison. A then a quick slice spell, and they had all the meat they could hope for. She showed Xen the edible greens, and how to dig up wild onions.
The wolves avoided them. The wild horses came near, attracted by Junk and Phantom. But they were hunted enough to be wary of humans.
One night a foal approached to just within the firelight . . . or perhaps not. A silent, thin man eyed them through a reddish mass of untamed and uncut hair. He didn't speak, but when she laid out a serving at the edge of the light, well to the side, he circled around and ate it.
"My father is from Scoone. He tells stories of a wild boy long ago, who joined the wizards, to protect the town."
The wildman just finished his bison and retreated from sight.
They didn't see him again, but Xen was sure that every reddish foal they spotted must be him.
"I wildman. Turn into horse!" The boy was showing signs of going from barely talking to never shutting up. Except he'd sit quietly by her side for hours while she meditated. "Never go back there."
"I'm afraid we'll need to go back now and then. But we don't have to stay. And we don't have to visit the really rude ones."
"Rude." He nodded. "Not Dad. And Granddad."
She eyed him and hoped he'd been guessing from expressions. Had some people been saying things out of her hearing, but within Xen's? Her mother hadn't been hiding her feelings very well. She picked at her fraying sleeve. "And I need to figure out how to make money to buy some new clothes, or else start tanning these hides and live in leather."
Xen's eyes widened as he eyed the remains of her latest victim, a yearling bull bison. "Big black coat?"
"Oh my. Hmm, well, lets just have a go at a bit of brain tanning. But first I need to get the meat all cut up and smoking or cooking." She looked around. "And we'll camp here for awhile, because poor Junk can't carry everything, and Phantom's . . . a bit over two. I suppose he could start carrying some weight."
The bull had been small enough for Junk to drag back to their campsite. They had a small bluff to cut the north wind, and a small spring provided both water for their use and an attractant for wildlife.
We could live here forever.
She finished her butchery, and amateur tanning, then they walked over to the spring to clean up. "I've never done brain tanning before. There are other ways to do it, and people who know how . . . so I just bought leather from someone else. So this first experiment may not work."
In fact it smelled so awful, they dragged it away and let the scavengers have it.
The weather warmed. Warmed further.
On the night of the Summer Solstice, Rustle sweated as she greeted the Moonrise all by herself. She sang the Full Moon gently up and down. A coyote's howl harmonized briefly, then she was alone again. Remembering what she'd walked away from. Just the witches, not the power.
In the morning she and Xen took a long walk, collecting berries and greens.
The horses were staked out to graze, and Phantom trotted over to the end of his rope to visit as they walked back.
"Ride Phanty!" Xen reached out for the stallion, who nudged the boy tolerantly.
"You're going to be one of those protective type stallions, not the aggressive type, aren't you bud?" Rustle set the boy on the horse's broad back, keeping a grip.
Xen leaned forward to hug him and then thumped his heels. Phantom looked around indulgently, then lifted his head to stare across the plain. Rustle pulled Xen down and perched him on her hip as she followed the direction of the horse's gaze.
A distant neigh answered, and Rustle climbed a rock for a better look.
Wagons, two of them, and four riders. The riders were galloping toward them, and Rustle reviewed her more distant magical attacks. Not long enough. With a sniff, she put Xen down by the saddle and grabbed her bow. Magic was inconveniently short ranged. She'd rather deal with the problem from outside its reach.
"I fight too!" Xen called. "I fig
ht, Mom, with a sword!"
"You are still a little small for a real sword, my little warrior. I suspect your father will give you one when you are ready for it." Her eyes tracked the strangers.
"Big sword?"
"Very Big."
"Mine?"
"Yep."
He crowed happily.
"You stay right there."
Rustle stepped out in plain sight as the riders veered and circled to get a good look at the camp.
They rode whooping around the picketed horses three times, their braided hair flying. Their clothes were colorful, their bridles flashed with cheap glass beads and their horses had seen a lot of miles and years.
As they circled, they kept trying to look over at her, but their heads kept turning toward Phantom like iron to a loadstone. Horse thieves, perhaps, but not rapists.
One of them swooped in, as if to cut the stallion's picket line, but Rustle had seen their horses long enough to be able to suggest a fright to the gelding, and it spooked away.
"Good evening." Rustle called. "Why don't you forget about horse stealing and just come for dinner?"
"You aren't Travelers. Anyone can see that." The man pulled his gelding to a halt. "What are you doing out here?"
"Traveling to Cadent. And you?"
"There've been Auralian raiders hitting the Old Road. We figured that the God of Travelers would forgive us if we left the road."
"Auralians?"
"They sneak through the Southern divide, and attack anyone. Soldiers, mostly. But the Amma doesn't pay well, instead he lets them keep anything they make from raids. Horses and children are valuable."
Rustle looked a bit skeptically at their old animals. But perhaps they have children. "Well. I'm not a raider. Will you share the hospitality of my fire?"
"Who are you? Why should a Traveler trust you?" But his eyes had found Xen, and his shoulders relaxed.
"Well, unless you're going to drive along with us to Cadent, you don't need to trust us. But you really shouldn't attack us." Rustle pointed beyond the man. "I've been building mile markers, every night. If the God of Travelers comes this way, to check the new road, he'll see what you have done."