by Hazel Hunter
The drifts outside the crevasse proved mercifully shallow, and after the first mile they left behind the snow altogether. Some of the ancient trails left by the Ninth Legion remained intact, although strewn and rocky, and then they met the next slopes and began their climb.
Cadeyrn kept glancing back at Emeline until the nurse scowled at him. She might be hurt and weary and breathing too fast, but she seemed determined to keep up with him.
After they scaled the second hill Cadeyrn felt a surge of relief, for the path down led to a narrow glen and into a small village. He saw the moonlight gleaming on the still surface of a pond behind a large shearing barn, and knew Dun Aran to finally be within their reach.
He signaled for the other women to halt as he scanned the trees on either side of the road. Remembering all too well how the famhairean had tricked them on the path to the forest farm, he motioned for Lily and the others to stay while he crept ahead. Happily, none of the trees lining the road turned into the giants, and he doubled back at a fast trot.
“’Tis safe,” he murmured, and saw the same relief he felt on their faces. “Everyone in the village will be abed. We’ll go directly to the pond.”
Cadeyrn dared to take Lily’s hand in his as they walked the final distance to reach the village. No lights illuminated the cottages, and when they reached the shearing barn he saw only an empty pen that had been left open. But then the faintest stink of rot reached his nose. ’Twas a stench he knew only too well. He motioned for the women to stop next to the barn.
“Remain here for a moment,” Cadeyrn told them, and released Lily’s hand to walk down to the pond.
The surface glittered with what he thought at first was frost, and then he saw the things sticking up out of the dark ice. The pond had been too shallow to cover all the bodies of the murdered villagers, so hands and limbs and heads protruded. When he knelt to touch the frozen water, he sensed only ice stretching to the very bottom.
“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Rowan asked from behind him, and when he turned he saw her face blanch in the moonlight. “Oh, no, no.”
“Dinnae look at it,” he said as he took her arm. He turned her around and guided her back up to the barn. To the other lasses he said, “We cannae go into the pond. ’Tis frozen solid, and…’tis been used as a grave for the villagers.”
Emeline stared at him before she staggered backward, spun around and ran behind a bush, from where the sound of retching came.
“Hendry killed all the people who lived here?” Perrin asked. “The women and the children, too?” When he nodded she turned to her sister. “This has to stop. Someone has to stop them.”
“Yeah, I know, but not tonight.” Rowan glanced to the east before she regarded Cadeyrn. “The sun’s going to rise soon. What’ll we do now?”
He knew the ladies all to be exhausted. He could see it in the way they stood hunched and breathed hard. They’d had almost nothing to eat, and but a few hours of sleep. He knew they’d keep going for as long as he asked. In truth, they’d go until they dropped, which would not take long to happen.
“We’ll stay here and hide for the day.” He looked around the village until he spotted the largest of the cottages. Shutters covered the window openings to keep out the snow, and would help conceal their presence. “There.”
Emeline came out from behind the bush and limped to a stop. “I agree. Mostly because Lily can’t feel her feet anymore, and I think I just sprained my ankle.”
“Can you walk?” Cadeyrn asked, seeing how she put most of her weight on the other foot.
She nodded quickly. “I’ll run if I have to.”
The war master turned to his lady. “Why didnae you tell me about your feet?”
“I was planning to warm them at your Dun Mor.” She sighed. “Tell me we can light a fire, and I’ll toast them while I make us some food.”
In the wind that had driven the snow storm, a small fire could be permitted. Though he suspected the other women were just as tired and half-frozen as Lily and Emeline, for their safety it could not be.
“I’m sorry, no,” he said, and saw each of their faces fall. “But we’ll find blankets and a meal before we sleep.”
As they waited in the growing light, he went into the big cottage to assure it was empty. Then he left the women there to search the rest of the village. He entered a large stable he expected to be empty, but instead found eleven work horses that the druids had left to starve in their stalls. Cadeyrn filled their troughs with just enough water to quench their thirst, and then portioned out the feed he found sacked in a wall bin. As the hungry horses ate he inspected each one. More than half proved too old to serve as mounts, but enough were healthy and strong enough for him and his ladies to ride.
As he left the stable, Cadeyrn glanced up at the fading stars. Ruadri would urge him to give thanks for the horses he’d found, but surely it had been by chance, not the Gods’ will.
In the villagers’ homes he found signs of countless, desperate struggles. Directly outside of them dried blood still marked the earth with red-brown splatters and frozen pools. From what he saw it seemed the famhairean had dragged out every mortal from their beds and killed them outside before tossing their bodies in the pond. The merciless indifference the giants showed toward mortal life stoked in him a furious sorrow. Before this moment he had always regarded the druids and their famhairean as the clan’s enemies. Now he understood what they would make of the world—blood and bodies and death—and it chilled him.
As war master, so much of Cadeyrn’s own life had been spent in anger and suspicion. He’d been bred to brutality and the company of other warriors. If he’d gone down a different path, could this empty village have been his work?
Walking to the center of the small settlement, he went down on one knee. While he gave the Gods their due, his true devotion belonged to his battle spirit. He covered his skinwork with one hand.
“Too long I’ve been blinded by the wrongs of the past. Help me see clearly, that I protect and serve, not only my lady, but humankind.”
Strength poured into his veins, answering him as directly as he could have hoped. Cadeyrn murmured his thanks as he pressed his palms to the ground. Then he stood and went back to the big cottage. Inside he found the ladies gathered around a small table set with food.
“I found horses. Tonight, we ride.”
“First, we eat, and then we sleep,” Rowan said. “And then we’ll ride with you into the sunset.” When Emeline frowned at her she shrugged. “Okay, so it’s a terrible cliché in our time. In this one, it actually fits.”
The healer glanced in the direction of the pond, and then at Cadeyrn. “Not much more we can do, I imagine.”
He grimaced and silently shook his head.
Perrin offered him a plate of bread chunks. “Lily’s in the kitchen putting together a cold platter.”
Cadeyrn smiled his thanks as he took a piece of the crusty bread, and then touched Emeline’s shoulder.
“When the thaw comes, my clan shall return and see to them.”
Though she still looked pained, Emeline nodded.
He took a bite of the bread on his way to the kitchen, and found it had been cut in half, the middle filled with thick slabs of butter and slathered with a berry jam. He discovered his lady cutting up roots and vegetables, which she then added to a pan of meat sliced so thin he could almost see through it. He’d never seen Lily move with such ease of purpose, but he also suspected that what she did kept her from thinking about the bodies in the pond.
The lasses each had their ways of coping with the worst of times: Emeline nursed, Rowan jested, Perrin ate, and Lily fed them all.
He glanced down at her feet, and smiled a little at the heavy, too-large boots she now wore.
“What happened to your shoes?”
“They’re in the trash bin. I’m never taking off these clodhoppers for as long as I draw breath.” Regret flickered over her features. “I shouldn’t have said that. Not a
t all respectful.”
“’Tis no’ wrong to be happy that you live,” he chided.
“But it’s not about me, is it?” She halved a small bitter orange and squeezed the juice into the pan. “We can’t do anything for those poor people. I thought about using my trick to crack the ice and get them out, but the ground’s too frozen to dig graves. We’re eating their food and stealing their shoes and clothes, and we can’t even give them a decent burial.”
“They wouldnae begrudge us any of it, Lily,” he said.
“I know.” Her hands stopped moving for a moment as she glanced up at him. “It’s just another thing to hate. I’m so bloody tired of hating, Cade.”
“Then you must look past it.” He grazed her cheek with his knuckles. “See what awaits you.”
Her expression softened. “Three starved women.”
Smiling, she picked up the pan and handed it to him. She took a platter spread with sliced cheeses, candied fruits, and small bowls of nuts. Together they carried them into the front room.
“I haven’t a stove,” she said to the other women as she checked the pan before bringing it to the table. “But this should be better than chestnuts.”
“Carpaccio?” Rowan said, her jaw nearly dropping.
The women eagerly fell to serving themselves, as did Cadeyrn. Though he didn’t know the strange food, the flavors came alive in his mouth as he chewed. He’d never tasted the like, and it proved so delectable that it made him wonder what other talents his lady possessed.
“How did you make this?”
Lily met his gaze. “The acid from the citrus cooks the raw meat. If we had lemons it would be better.”
“Oh, no, this is perfect,” Perrin assured her as she stuffed a huge piece of the cured and thin-sliced beef into her mouth. “This is amazing. I love you. Marry me.”
“You’ll have to fight me,” Cadeyrn said, making everyone laugh.
“Lovely to know I’m so wanted,” Lily told them.
Cadeyrn waited until all the ladies had taken another portion before he loaded up a plate. “I’ll have this outside while I’m on watch.”
Lily nodded, some of the lightness leaving her expression, and the rest of the ladies fell silent.
Outside Cadeyrn found a sheltered spot that gave him the best view of the road leading in and out of the village, and there slowly savored Lily’s carpaccio. Like pleasure, food for him had always been a necessity, not a desire. She had changed that now, too, and he would likely never taste another trencher of beef without thinking of this night, and watching her cook.
A shadow crossed his as Lily came to him. “You didn’t wait for the drinks, mate.” She offered the bottle in her hand to him.
He uncorked it, took a sniff and handed it back. “Dinnae tell my clan, but I’ve never much cared for whiskey.”
“You might have to resign your citizenship for that,” she chided, her gaze straying from him to the shearing barn. “The people here were sleeping when Hendry came with the guards, weren’t they?” When he nodded, her mouth flattened. “He could have just stolen the horses. Why did he have them all killed?”
He put his arm around her hunched shoulders. “Hendry and Murdina have long despised mortal and druid kind. They hold them to blame for the loss of their tribe. ’Twas said that they and the famhairean murdered more than could be counted in my time.”
“Your time?” She looked up at him. “You mean you don’t belong here? Were you brought here, like us?”
Cadeyrn nodded. “I lived and died twelve centuries past. Like you, the druids brought me here without my say. Those who awakened me and my clan from our graves intended for us to again battle the famhairean. They gave us immortality, and our ability to water-travel, but naught of it we wished or wanted.”
“Good God.” She uncorked the bottle and took a long drink from it, coughing a little once she’d swallowed. “I see now why you don’t like whiskey. It’s absolutely vile.”
“I favor perry.” He rubbed her back as she coughed again. “’Tis made from pear juice.”
“I make a wonderful tart with pears poached in brandy. You’d love every bite.” She curled her hand around his and looked out at the village. “Only we’re not going to get away, Cade. I don’t think we can make it.”
“We’ve horses now, so we’ve a chance.” He wouldn’t tell her how tiny it was. “With food and rest the lasses should have more strength tonight. We’ll press on north until we find water.”
She set the bottle on the window ledge. “Who knows how far we’ll have to go to find water than isn’t frozen, maybe miles and miles. I had some riding lessons when I was younger, but I doubt the others have. Emeline and Perrin won’t admit it, but they’re completely exhausted. I’m hardly in tip-top shape, either. You and Rowan can’t manage the three of us between you. If we have to keep riding for the whole night…”
“’Twas much the same for you with your father, I reckon, and yet you escaped him.” Cadeyrn took her in his arms. “Hardship and evil can take all from you. But your belief in yourself? That you must give.”
“Well, then.” She stood on her toes to kiss his mouth, and then held him tightly. “Sod that.”
Chapter Fifteen
LEAVING ORIANA AND the Dawn Fire at the Moss Dapple’s settlement worried Bhaltair almost as much as Galan’s admitted cruelty toward his son. He’d accepted sanctuary for his tribe from druids far too suspicious and secretive for his taste. The headman’s venomous hatred for Ruadri, who had made only the mistake of being born, also preyed on his conscience. Not once during the training of the Skaraven lads had Galan’s son ever revealed the maltreatment from his sire. It made him wonder what else had been hidden from him. Though he grimaced at the deeply troubling thought, at present there was naught that he could do. Dealing with the quislings and their famhairean had to come before all other concerns.
As Domnall stood by, Bhaltair quickly read the small batch of message scrolls.
“No sign of the Skaraven or the enemy,” Bhaltair said. He glanced up at the overseer’s impassive expression. “As well you ken.”
“The headman wishes all things that enter and leave the forest checked,” Domnall told him. “I’ve no belly for trickery, Master. I but do as Galan commands.”
“You sound like a mortal,” Bhaltair said. He suspected the overseer wished to say more but would not permit himself to confide in an outsider. He also seemed to cling to his stoic indifference like a shield. But against what? “Are you compelled by Galan to act against your own reason, Domnall?”
He considered that for a long moment. “’Tis my duty to serve the headman. I give my loyalty freely.”
So, it would seem that Galan had not used magic to force the overseer and his defenders to obey him.
“But he trained you.”
“To protect this settlement.” Domnall’s mouth hitched. “Aye.”
Bhaltair decided against asking any more questions. The overseer might report his interest to Galan, who might then act against the Dawn Fire. Instead he only nodded.
“I must leave now to journey to Aviemore. Overseer, I’d consider it a boon if you’d watch over my people and attend to their needs until I return.”
Domnall bowed. “As you wish, Master.”
The overseer escorted him to the falls, where he stopped at the passage into the cascade and untethered the chestnut steed that waited there.
“Safe journey, Bhaltair Flen.”
“My thanks, Domnall.” He pulled up his hood, took the reins, and stepped into the tunnel.
Some hours later Bhaltair arrived in Aviemore, which remained dark and quiet in the hour before dawn. He climbed down wearily from his mount and held onto the saddle horns until his knees steadied. The sleepy stablemaster appeared and muttered under his breath as he took the pony’s tether.
“Water and brush him, and change his blanket,” Bhaltair told the mortal, and handed him enough coin to silence his grumbling. “I’ll return
for him in a few hours.”
Since he yet saw no sign of Ruadri he went to the inn where they had agreed to meet and made his way to the kitchen.
The innkeeper’s wife looked up from the pot of oatmeal she stirred, her surprise plain. “Fair morning, Master Flen. You’ve put my rooster to shame. Will you be wanting a room?”
“No’ this day, Mistress Moray.” He forced a smile. “I’m to meet a friend here for a short talk. We’ll use your back room, if we may.”
“’Tis your friend a grand brawny highlander?” She held a hand high above her head, and then measured a broad space in the air equally impressive. “Silvered black hair and eyes like smoke?” When he nodded she let out a breath. “He came an hour back, dripping wet. Said he slipped and fell in the loch.”
“The lad can be clumsy,” Bhaltair said, nodding.
“I put him to wait in the back room and lit the fire.” Her mouth twisted. “Such an odd man. He barely spoke to me.”
She was likely but the second female Ruadri had ever spoken to. “You ken how highlanders can be.” He peeked at her pot. “If you can spare two bowls of your lovely porridge to break our fast, I’ll be in your debt.”
“After all the coin you’ve dropped in my purse?” She waved a hand at him. “I’ll bring it along with some berries and cream, just as you like it.”
Bhaltair smiled his thanks and trudged down a passage to the back room, where he found Ruadri crouched by the hearth.
The big man straightened and faced him. “Cadeyrn?”
“We’ve yet had no word of him or the lost ladies. I sent word from the Moss Dapple’s settlement by dove to all the tribes.” He sat down with a grunt. “We cannae yet give up hope.”
The shaman peered down at him. “Then I shall tell you my news, Master Flen. The clan found the hidden portal in the Great Wood.”
“What? How?” he demanded.
“The lass who came to take Cadeyrn used it.” Ruadri went to brace an arm on the mantle and stare into the flames. “I’ve said naught to Brennus about it, or how I’ve used it to come to you with my reports.”