“I’m afraid this will hurt a little,” he said, as he began to work the salve into her skin. “But it will feel better afterward.”
Vestakia winced as Kellen’s fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. Kellen cast about for something to distract her.
“You said you’d tell us how you came to be here?” he asked. “This would be a good time.” He glanced over his shoulder. Jermayan was taking an awfully long time getting the tea to boil.
“I suppose I owe you the tale,” Vestakia said, hanging her head. “I warn you, Wildmage, it isn’t a pretty one.”
“Well,” Kellen said lightly, “it’s bound to be interesting.”
She managed a wan smile. “My father, as you know already, was a Demon. My mother told us that he called himself the Prince of Shadow Mountain, and though all Demons lie, I have no reason to think that this one time he wasn’t telling the truth.”
Interesting. He wondered why she was so sure, but decided to let Ves takia tell the story in her own way. He could always ask questions later. Beside him, Shalkan was listening with rapt attention.
“My mother was a Wildmage, who lived with her sister in a little village far to the east of here. My father seduced her in human form and got her with child, intending to leave her on some pretext and come back after I was born and claim me for his own. It is a common practice among Demonkind and well known among the Mountain-folk—perhaps you have heard the songs we sing about it?”
Kellen hadn’t. Vestakia shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter, because this time his plan failed. One night my mother wore a Talisman of the Good Goddess made from braided unicorn hair to their bed. He did not recognize it for what it was, and he touched it. It burned him, and he vanished.”
Kellen blinked at that; he’d known that the living unicorns were inimical to Demons, but unicorn hair? He filed the information away for future reference. It could be very useful.
“She knew him for what he was then, of course, but by then it was too late.” Vestakia sighed. “She was with child, of course, and—and that doomed her to lose the life she had always known, and it would be only that, only if she was very fortunate indeed.”
“Why?” he asked, because Vestakia had stopped talking.
“If the villagers found out that she had been Tainted by a Demon’s embrace, even accidentally, they would put her to death,” Vestakia told him flatly. “If they found out she was pregnant by a Demon, they would put her to death even more swiftly—and there was no point in trying to abort in secret what she carried: Demon-children cannot be gotten rid of except by killing the mother. So she faced death twice over for her error—but my mother was a powerful Wildmage, and she was very clever as well, and she was not going to lie down and wait for death.”
If she was anything like you, and I expect she must have been, I can certainly believe that, Kellen thought.
“She took stock of her options and resources, and made plans. No one but she knew that she had taken a lover at all, much less that her lover had been a Demon: she would be disgraced in the eyes of the village elders when she was found to be carrying a bastard, but not murdered—not until the child was born and showed unquestionable signs of Demonic Taint. And—she didn’t intend to give birth to a child that would grow up to destroy and corrupt all that it touched.”
“Well, I can see where that would be a problem,” Kellen replied, keeping his eyes on her ankle, and his tone light, but not too light. He didn’t want her to think he was making fun of her, or not taking her story as seriously as it deserved to be. “I assume she must have had an idea of what to do about it.”
“She did,” Vestakia said solemnly. “She called upon the Wild Magic to help her.”
He blinked. “Oh. My.” It was a completely logical solution, given that the woman in question was a Wildmage, but how many would have had the courage to take it, knowing that the price asked was likely to be very high, and there was no one to bear it but herself? Idalia would, Kellen thought with a flash of pride. But how many others?
“And so according to the ancient ways, because she had asked only for help, and not what kind of help, my mother was offered a choice, and a price.”
He looked up, then, into those solemn, yellow eyes, and thought that he could guess the choice. But he didn’t interrupt Vestakia. Jermayan was eavesdropping, although he pretended otherwise, and he needed to hear this from Vestakia’s lips.
“Her choice was that the child to be could be completely hers in spirit, and its father’s in body; or its father’s in spirit, yet hers in body. So I could look like him, yet be human inside, or look like her, yet be his in every way that mattered—a Demon. No matter which choice she made, she would sacrifice twenty years of her allotted span of years.”
He winced. A hard price; a harder choice. “I think,” Kellen said aloud, “that she must have been very brave.”
Vestakia nodded, accepting his comment as no more than simple fact. “It was—so my aunt always told me later—a hard choice to make, for some claimed that Demons were not by nature evil, and if one could only get an imp young enough, and raise it up in love and law, perhaps its nature could be turned away from Darkness. And if Mama had only taken the choice of having me look human, she could have stayed where she was, among her friends and family, and hoped for the best. Perhaps—so she might have told herself—I could have been turned from my evil ways. And even more temptingly, even if I was evil by nature, there was a good chance that I wouldn’t begin to work my wickedness until I was grown, and due to the nature of her price, she knew she would be dead by then.”
Shalkan made a little, thoughtful sound. “Less risk for her; potentially a disaster for everyone else. Not so much a choice as a temptation?”
“Maybe,” Vestakia acknowledged. “Maybe not. Maybe it is true that Demons are not evil in nature; maybe she would have been doing all of the world a great service by proving it. If it were only her own fate that was at stake, I believe she might have tried it. But it was not. If the child proved to be evil in blood and bone, if my nature had been unredeemable, she would be risking not only her sister’s life and those of everyone in the village—not only with what I might do to them, but in what would certainly happen when my father came for me. And not only theirs, but perhaps the lives of everyone in the surrounding countryside as well, for once Demons are drawn to a hunting ground and find it undefended, they do not stop until they have destroyed everything within reach. Mama saw that one path was easy—for her—and one was hard, but that only one was right. She was very brave,” Vestakia finished proudly. “She told the Good Goddess that she would bear a Demon-appearing but human-spirited child, and sealed her bargain.”
“Good for her.” Shalkan touched Vestakia’s cheek lightly with his horn, and she glowed a little at his praise. Out of the corner of his eyes, Kellen caught Jermayan watching, his frown deepening at this further proof that Vestakia was not what he thought her to be.
She picked up the thread of her story again. “But I would not be born for many moonturns yet, and she had many plans still to make if we were both to survive, for Mama did not intend for either of us to die—nor for either of us to fall into my father’s hands again. She went to her elder sister Patanene, who was unmarried and loved her dearly, and confided all to her, and my aunt was just as brave and strong as Mama. Aunt Patanene got herself put in charge of a flock of goats to be sent out deeper into the mountains for summer pasturage, and Mama went with her. They stole half the flock, and took it away with them deep into the Lost Lands, where they knew they would never be found, walking for moonturns. I was born in a hut the two of them built with their own hands and shared with their little flock.”
Two women and a baby all alone in these mountains? And I thought living in the Wildwood was hard! Kellen thought to himself.
“I suppose it was a hard life for them,” Vestakia said, in an unconscious echo of his thoughts. “As for me, I never knew any other. Mama’s Wildm
agery kept us well and safe and fed, and I was always happy, even though the very first thing I learned was that I must never let anyone see me. All was well for ten years, then Mama died, paying her price, and Aunt ’Nene and I were left alone to fend for ourselves. We didn’t do quite as well, I think … Mama’s magic had kept us safe when the Demons hunted me, and when she died, at first we were never sure when they were near. But then, when I …” Vestakia hesitated, and looked away, embarrassed. “When I … began to become a woman … I realized that I could sense them when they drew near, because I became ill. Aunt ’Nene and I had reason to bless that gift, many times!
“But it was a hard life, very hard. And when Aunt ’Nene fell ill, four years after Mama died, I wasn’t skilled enough to nurse her back to health, and though I called upon the Good Goddess, without Wild Magic, I could do nothing for her but to keep her comfortable and ease her spirit. And she died. So then I was alone.”
By now Kellen had finished working the allheal into Vestakia’s ankle, and he began winding the linen bandage firmly about her foot—not too tight, or it would cut off the circulation. He only hoped what little he could do would be enough.
How brave she had been! Compared with what she had faced growing up alone and isolated, his own problems as Lycaelon’s despised and socially embarrassing son seemed like nothing. He’d spent a lot of time feeling sorry for himself, but he could tell, just by looking at her, that Vestakia had never wasted a single moment on self-pity.
“What did you do then?” he asked. “After your aunt died, and you were all alone?”
“What could I do?” Vestakia asked, with some spirit. “If I sat about and bewailed my lot, the goats would starve, I would starve, and what use would there have been of Mama’s sacrifice, of all of Aunt ’Nene’s care? I buried her next to Mama, I tended my flock, I went on with my life. I knew how to hunt, I had milk and cheese and butter from my goats, eggs from the wild birds, and sometimes meat. Though you may not think it, there are wild foods growing in these hills, not abundant, but Mama and Aunt ’Nene taught me how to find them. Sometimes I could trade for bread and flour with the other crofters—I wore gloves, and bandages over my face, and let them think I had some horrible skin disease. I managed well enough. I knew the Demons were hunting for me—Mama had warned me that my father would always know that I was still alive, even if he could not tell exactly where I was because of the boon the Good Goddess had granted her, and that he would never give up searching for me. So I hid whenever I felt the Demons nearby, but I dared not leave the hills, or go anywhere there were more people, because I would be killed at once or, and that would be nearly as bad, lead the Demons among people. Mama made sure I learned those lessons well, so that I would never be tempted to show my face to anyone. She warned me that anyone who saw it and pretended not to care must be a Demon in human guise; of course, she never lived to know that no Demon would ever be able to trick me that way …” Vestakia sighed and bowed her head. “When I saw you … when you saved me … I was so afraid! I thought my power had failed me somehow. If Shalkan hadn’t been there …”
She reached out to the unicorn, and Shalkan stepped forward so that Vestakia could stroke his cheek.
“Usually, of course, the maiden rescues the unicorn,” Shalkan commented, and Kellen was pleased to see Vestakia smile gravely.
“As for what I was doing there in the first place: that was my home, up until today. A month ago, someone started stealing my goats. I couldn’t let that go on, so I set a trap to catch the thief, intending to give him a good drubbing and get my goats back—any of them that he hadn’t already eaten, at least.
“But there was Demon-magic in the air, and I wasn’t paying enough attention. I twisted my ankle, and he cornered me. If you hadn’t come along when you had, I’d be dead now. And so he has all my goats, and my hut as well! And I wish him much joy of them, whoever he is.”
Kellen finished wrapping the bandage at the top of her knee and tied it off to hold it fast. He held up her boot, and Vestakia slipped her foot into it.
Both of them looked up as a shadow fell across them. Jermayan was standing over them, holding cups of tea. The Elven Knight’s face was a stony mask of disapproval. Kellen realized that with Elven rigid-mindedness, Jermayan still didn’t believe any part of Vestakia’s story—though he’d certainly heard all of it—despite all the proof Shalkan had given him.
Idiot. He’s as blind sometimes as Lycaelon. If Idalia ever got wind of his behavior—
—if we make it home again—
—she would be sure to give him a well-deserved piece of her mind.
If he amends his behavior, I’ll consider not telling her.
Kellen rocked back on his heels, wincing at his own soreness, and reached for the cups. Reluctantly, Jermayan placed them in his hands. Kellen passed one of them to Vestakia.
Kellen sipped the tea in silence. Considering everything, Kellen didn’t think he was going to tell Jermayan that he’d been led to save Vestakia by the Wild Magic, or why the Wild Magic had exacted that particular price from him, as satisfying as letting the haughty Elven Knight know that Vestakia’s rescue was the price of his own healing would be. It would only irritate Jermayan further, and Kellen didn’t need Jermayan any more irritated and upset right now. He needed Jermayan alert and cooperative.
“There’s soup,” the Elf said reluctantly.
So that’s what took him so long. Kellen forgave Jermayan slightly.
“We’ll need to eat,” Kellen told Vestakia. He got to his feet and handed his cup to Jermayan. He knew Jermayan would want tea as well, and they’d only brought two cups. And he was sure just by looking that Jermayan wouldn’t want to drink out of a cup that had been used by Vestakia.
“After we eat, we’re going ahead, as far as Vestakia can lead us. From the way she was feeling before Shalkan dosed her, the Barrier must be close by, and the animals can’t get up the rock, so we’ll have to leave Valdien, the mule, and everything we don’t absolutely need here, and hope it’s here when we get back.” If we get back, Kellen added silently.
For a moment Kellen was certain Jermayan was going to refuse, to demand that Kellen find some other path, or decide to strike out on his own. But the Elven Knight merely bowed, the same stiff formal bow Kellen had seen so often back in Sentarshadeen. “As you command, Wildmage,” he answered tonelessly, turning away back to the campfire.
“Well, that went well,” Kellen said, under his breath.
“He hates what I represent,” Vestakia said sadly, getting to her feet. She tested her foot gingerly, then put more of her weight on it, her expression relaxing into relief. “Well, I hate it, too. Does he think I’ve ever been able to look into a bowl of water without hating the Demon that looks back at me?” she added bitterly.
“Hate the Demon, but don’t hate yourself,” Shalkan said quietly, “for you are not of their kind. Your mother’s Wild Magic saw to that, her courage, your courage. Vestakia, you have been braver than you think. If one who is wholly human can be turned to the Darkness willingly, think how much easier it would have been for you! You would have been accepted without question; all you would have had to do was take the easy path, embrace evil, and join your father. You did not. You are as human as your mother was, brave and true. And just as good.”
“No one will ever believe that!” Vestakia cried wildly, tears starting to form in her yellow cat’s-eyes. “Mama said so!”
“I do,” Kellen said firmly, willing her to believe him. “Shalkan does. And Jermayan will believe in you, too—if I have to beat his Elf-stubborn head down between his shoulders until his eyes are level with his collarbone to make him realize it, I will. But we don’t have time for that, now. We have to get up over those rocks before the light fails. Now come and have some soup. You’ll need all your strength for the climb.”
He was talking in part to keep from thinking. It was quiet. It was too quiet. Surely the Endarkened knew that they were near! Surely he would n
ot be able to just clamber up to the top of the rocks, put the keystone in place, and walk away!
But Vestakia had said that the Taint was here, the dark magic, but not the Demons themselves. And certainly there was no sign of life here except for the moss and grey-green lichen. Maybe—maybe by taking up with Vestakia, they had been able to reach this place before the Endarkened were prepared?
He wanted to believe it, and knew he dared not. He dared be nothing less than prepared for the worst.
Except, of course, that “the worst” would be impossible for anyone short of an army to stop.
Chapter Twenty-four
A Pause Before the Storm
HE LED VESTAKIA over to the campfire. Valdien stood nuzzling his master as Jermayan stood eating thick trail-soup from a bowl. Neither the mule nor the stallion wore any trace of tack now. At the moment, the mule did not look inclined to stray, and even if she did, she probably wouldn’t go far. If none of them returned, the beasts would have to fend for themselves as best they could.
Maybe they’ll make it back to Sentarshadeen. If nothing else, I suppose they’ll find their way to where there are some people. The people can’t all be like that bastard that tried to kill Vestakia …
Of course, by his way of reckoning, he was killing a Demon, so maybe I shouldn’t call him a bastard.
Except that he was stealing her goats before he thought she was a Demon, so I guess he is.
These and other inconsequential thoughts chased around and around in his mind, and he let them. Better that than think about where they were going and what he might meet.
Kellen ladled more soup into the remaining bowl for Vestakia, and then ate his portion directly from the pot and unwrapped several trail-bars for Shalkan.
The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy Page 70