by J. C.
Fréthfâre stood to full height. "Careful, Greimasg'äh… you are not so highly honored as to change caste ways at your whim."
"And what purpose do those ways serve?" Brot'ân'duivé returned. "They serve our people, first and foremost. Guardianship was an old tradition before the first supplicant bent knee before Most Aged Father. Break the ways of our people, and what is left for us to protect?"
Fréthfâre remained unconvinced, but Brot'ân'duivé cut off any rebuttal.
"Take this before the elders, if you wish. Even now they gather at Crij-heâiche. It is for them to decide—not you or I—if the people's ways shall be altered. Would not Most Aged Father agree, as first servant to the people?"
True as this was, Sgäile was still reluctant. Én'nish closely watched Fréthfâre's silent frustration, waiting for the Covârleasa to counter Brot'ân'duivé's words.
Brot'ân'duivé stepped to the path's side, and his passive gaze fell upon Sgäile. The elder anmaglâhk held out a hand to the open trail ahead.
"We follow in service to your purpose."
Sgäile turned his gaze from Brot'ân'duivé to Fréthfâre and back again. He did not know which of them had put him in the worst position. He stepped past Léshil, and the others followed, including Fréthfâre.
Not long after, Sgäile paused again. Paw prints led both ahead and off into the forest on his left. Brot'ân'duivé studied the split trail. There were signs that the pack had turned into the trees and back again, but why?
"It is your purpose and your choice," Brot'ân'duivé said to him.
Sgäile took a slow breath. "We move on and leave this deviation for our return."
He headed on in silence, and a short way down the main trail he slowed in caution.
"Is this…" he began in Elvish, for he did not want Léshil to hear.
"Yes," Brot'ân'duivé answered. "But it has changed."
The forest gathered upon itself in a wild and impenetrable tangle, except for one open passage that cut through the dense barrier.
"Well?" Léshil asked. "Is this it?"
Sgäile did not know how to answer, and Brot'ân'duivé had gone silent again.
"Fine!" Léshil snapped, and stepped into the path through the woods.
Sgäile followed. In spite of deep concerns over Léshil locating Cuir-in'nen'a, he could not stop this search. They had to find Wynn at any cost and bring her back.
At the end of the long path, he stepped through tall ferns behind Léshil.
A pack of majay-hì bustled about a lawn of grass and dark moss surrounding a single domicile elm. There stood Chap between Wynn and a tall elven woman in a shimmering white wrap.
Despair washed through Sgäile as he met the glower of Cuirin'nên'a. Wynn had been found, and his guardianship restored, but Sgäile had failed Most Aged Father once more.
Leesii thrashed through the ferns and halted, rooted to the ground. He stopped breathing. Wynn and Chap stood in the clearing, but he didn't really see them.
He only saw his mother, the perfect lines of her face, her tall and lithe stature, and eyes that could swallow all his awareness. He felt as he had looking down from the mountainside upon the vast elven forest—relieved and overwhelmed all at once. He had struggled and fought—and killed—for this intangible moment.
A flicker of terror passed through his mother's eyes at the sight of him.
In Leesil's youth, she had seldom shown open fear—and never at him.
Magiere came up beside him, but Leesii couldn't take his eyes from Nein'a.
"Mother?"
Someone grabbed his shoulder
Leesii knew it wasn't Magiere. Anger rose as he glanced back to find Sgäile restraining him.
Brot'an shook his head. "We are here now, and nothing can be done for it."
Sgäile's mouth tightened, but he stepped back as the others came through the ferns. Fréth's narrowing eyes turned on Brot'an.
Leesil moved slowly forward, and Nein'a—Mother—turned her face aside. Perhaps all the years alone made her cringe with sorrow. The thought almost stopped Leesil from going on. He shrugged off the rope harness and brought the chest around into his hands.
One steel-gray majay-hì started and then lunged away from the surrounding woods. It spun about to stare into the trees, pacing.
Chap flinched and warily watched the steel-gray dog. The white female beside him hopped in closer to push at Chap with a whine. The other majay-hì grew more agitated in their movements.
It was the dogs and not Leesil that made Nein'a lift her face. Fear returned as she watched them. Her expression darkened when she peered among the trees, as if searching out some hidden threat.
Leesil slowed under the growing weight of guilt. Long imprisonment had affected his mother's mind. He kept on, stopping only when close enough to reach her.
Unbidden memories came of long hours training with her, the meals they had shared, and how she checked on him in his room when she thought he was asleep—and of a sad father who had done all this as well with unexplained reluctance.
Leesil wanted to confess his sorrow and guilt for abandoning her, for his father's death… for everything. But the words wouldn't come.
"Mother…" he finally said, "I'm taking you out of here."
Nein'a didn't reach out to put a hand upon his cheek, as she had long ago.
"Leave," she whispered with a slow shake of her head. "Get out of this land… if you still can."
Leesil's voice failed. He had come all this way, risked the lives of Magiere and Wynn and Chap—and her only response was to tell him to go?
Nein'a's large eyes shifted to Brot'an as the man approached. Leesil saw pleading in her gaze, and Brot'an's passive expression softened when he looked upon her. Leesil's stunned outrage was lost in chill anger.
Nein'a briefly spoke to Brot'an in Elvish, but the name "Léshil" was easy to catch. A silent Wynn looked up in dismay at Nein'a; this was enough to tell Leesil that his mother had asked Brot'an to take him away. He couldn't bear any more of this.
Leesil dropped to one knee and flipped open the chest, lifting the cloth bundle from within. He separated the cloth's folds and thrust out the skulls like a spiteful offering.
"I took them from Darmouth," he said sharply. "I went back looking for you and Father."
Nein'a's breath turned shallow as she reached out a hand. The closer it came to the skull of Leesil's father, the more her long, slender fingers shook.
"It is him?"
"Yes," Leesil said. "And your mother… though I was told it was you."
He cast a hateful glance at Brot'an, daring the tall elf to even try to explain. Brot'an offered no reply by word or expression.
"It is Eillean… and Gavril," Leesil said. "I brought them to you… for whatever last rites you see fit."
Nein'a's fingers slid to her mother's skull. Leesil had rarely seen her cry, but tears dropped down her caramel cheeks in silence. They seemed to drag her down into some strange sickness, and guilt flooded through Leesil again for his harsh words.
Nein'a took the cloth with both skulls and cradled them.
"Leave here at once," she whispered. "You cannot stay."
It was a long cold moment before she looked up and saw the others behind Leesil. Low, sharp Elvish erupted from her lips. The words sounded much the same as what she'd said to Brot'an, though this time Leesil caught Sgäile's longer elven name. She wasn't making a request, but a demand.
"You're coming with me," Leesil said. "I'm not leaving without you."
"I cannot," she whispered.
"It is true," Wynn said cautiously. "The path simply returns her, and anyone with her, back to this clearing. Chap and I have tried."
The sage's face and hands were covered in small scratches and scrapes. Leesil should've been angry for all the trouble she and Chap had caused, but then, they had found his mother.
"Enough!" Sgäile commanded. "We return to Crijheâiche. Léshil, come."
"No," he whispe
red.
He stood within reach of his mother—and she was alive. Her insistence that he go didn't matter. If anyone thought he'd simply walk away, they were dangerously mistaken.
At quick footsteps from behind, Leesil caught the barest cinch of Brot'an's scar-cut eyebrow.
Leesil back-stepped and spun out of reach.
As Sgäile tried to close the distance, Magiere snatched his cloak at the neck. Sgäile swung back with the edge of a flattened hand. It caught Magiere across the throat, and she fell back gagging.
"Stop this," Brot'an shouted. "Both of you cease!"
Osha stiffened at Brot'an's order, but the others didn't listen. As Sgäile turned his determined attention back toward Leesil, Magiere thrashed around on the grass.
Leesil saw her irises flood black.
"No," he whispered, panic-stricken. "Not now…"
Magiere kicked into the back of Sgäile's leg.
Sgäile buckled, dropping to his knee. Fréthfâre and Én'nish's two companions descended on Magiere. Leesil tried to rush in.
Én'nish dodged in his way, a long-bladed stiletto in each hand.
* * * *
Anxiety overwhelmed Most Aged Father. The little human woman had reached Cuirin'nên'a. When Léshil and the others arrived, all his careful plans evaporated.
He heard Cuirin'nên'a's repeated refusals to come away with Léshil and grew even more frustrated. Her words would only make Léshil lose hope, and without that, he would become more difficult to manipulate. It was clear that Cuirin'nên'a would sacrifice any tie to her son to protect him.
Most Aged Father writhed as the means to ferret out her confederates shriveled before him. She was a cunning one. He had hoped long isolation might make her desperate enough that Léshil could be used against her. Or his attachment to his mother could be used against him.
The only relief came at Sgäilsheilleache's urgent attempt to remove Léshil from the encounter. The longer Léshil faced his mother's denial, the greater the risk he might turn from any lingering desire to free her.
The pale woman grabbed for the back of Sgäilsheilleache's cloak.
Most Aged Father's frail heart began to race.
* * * *
Magiere's eyes locked on Nein a the moment she stepped into the clearing. Less than a year past, Leesil had told her of Nein a and Gavril. How many years before that had he drank himself to sleep, hiding from nightmares of a past he couldn't bear and a guilt he couldn't escape?
And here was Nein'a, finally, yet she offered little welcome to Leesil. Magiere barely heard what was said as she waited for the easing of Leesil's pain.
It never came.
Leesil deserved more than this. It didn't matter what he'd done. There had to be more than the denial of a cold-blooded mother.
The low thrum in Magiere's body, which she'd held down for days and nights, began to make her shake. When Sgäile closed on Leesil from behind, it lunged up her throat like hunger and filled her head.
She snatched Sgäile's cloak from behind.
Her throat clenched when he struck. She fell back and lost sight of everyone.
She hit the ground, and hunger devoured the pain in her throat. The sun blinded her for an instant when her vision widened. She writhed around to glare at Sgäile's back, his hair now brilliant white in her sight. Then she saw Leesil's glimmering amber eyes fill with anguish. He stared right at her.
Magiere kicked the back of Sgäile's knee as the first tear ran from her burning eyes.
No one was taking Leesil from here until he got what he came for.
Her jaws began to ache the instant Sgäile buckled. When she slapped her hand to the ground to get up, someone pulled it from under her. Anger mounted as her face struck the moss and she lost sight of Leesil.
Magiere twisted on the ground and a flash of gray passed above her. Chap slammed into Fréth with a snarl, and Magiere's wrist jerked free of the woman's grip. She pulled her feet under herself as one of Én'nish's companions came at her. Magiere lunged from her crouch and slammed her hand into his midsection.
Her hardened nails bit through his tunic, and she grabbed his collar with her other hand. Turning, she dragged him in an arc as she rose. Gray-green fabric tore in her grip as she flung him into the clearing's border trees.
Where was Leesil?
Urgency shivered through her and she wanted to rend anyone who touched him. The bright sun made the world burn and blur in her expanded sight. Something struck her lower back.
Moss tore under Magiere's boots as she ground her feet in resistance. What was it—this thing that tried to stop her from finding Leesil? Magiere turned on it.
She saw a gray-green cowl around an astonished tan face. Her anger turned manic as it backed away. She lunged at it.
* * * *
Leesil twisted aside as Én'nish slashed her right blade at his face. Her left stiletto thrust instantly for his gut.
He speared his hand downward and slapped away the blade, and it passed harmlessly off his side. Her lunge brought her close. Leesil twisted sharply right, driving his left elbow at her face.
Én'nish ducked, and her parried stiletto slashed across Leesil's midsection.
He heard it skitter across the rings of his hauberk. He felt its tip catch in one laced ring at his left side.
She shifted behind the blade to thrust with all her weight, and Leesil spun quickly, trying to turn out of her path.
The tip held and tore through. Leather split.
Leesil felt no burn of pierced skin, but he heard the tinkling of metal. One of his hauberk's steel rings dangled against the round guard of Én'nish's blade.
Leesil grabbed Én'nish's wrist below that dangling ring, and his gaze caught on her amber eyes so close to his face.
Another time and place—another woman with a knife—had looked at him with the same desperation. All because he'd killed someone she loved.
He raised his other arm on instinct, and Én'nish's free blade slashed his forearm.
Leesil shifted weight into his rear foot, prepared to throw a shoulder into Én'nish and take her to the ground. His rear foot jerked from the mossy ground and a soft-booted foot struck his hip.
Without footing, Leesil flipped sideways. A grunt erupted from him as his back hit the ground. When he rolled to his feet, Brot'an stood in his path. But the scar-faced elf wasn't looking at him.
"Enough!" Brot'an ordered. "Both of you!"
He held a wide and low stance with his right palm out at arm's length. But not toward Leesil. A half dozen paces beyond Brot'an's hand lay Én'nish.
She was curled on the lawn, holding her chest and gasping for breath. One of her long stilettos lay at Brot'an's feet.
Chap ground his forepaws in Fréthfâre's stomach as he snarled into her face. The woman went rigid on her back staring up at him. But Chap faltered at Magiere's hissing screech.
She lunged into one of Én'nish's companions. Tears ran from her eyes around a mouth wide with sharp teeth and fangs.
Magiere had lost all control in front of the Anmaglâhk.
She sank hardened fingernails into her target as Sgäile closed on her back.
The other majay-hì circled away from the conflict, but the pack elder lifted his grizzled muzzle. He stared intently at Magiere, and his jowls wrinkled.
Chap grew frantic. He had no more time to keep Fréthfâre pinned.
Lily paced behind the elder, looking into the trees where Magiere had flung her first opponent. That anmaglâhk had not gotten up.
Chap could not turn from Fréthfâre to touch heads with Lily. All he could do was reach for her own memories. He dipped into Lily's mind, calling up her sight of Fréthfâre standing before Most Aged Father's massive oak, and added the memory she had shown to him in fear—the dark opening in that tree. He repeated these in an alternating flurry and hoped she understood.
The pack elder charged at Magiere with an eerie howl, and Chap bolted toward Magiere and those closing on her.
> Magiere rushed the anmaglâhk drawing his blades and drove one hand at his throat. Instead of slashing at her, he ducked into the brush beneath the closest birch. Something snagged Magiere's hair, jerking her head back. Her legs buckled under someone's whipping leg.
Her knees hit the ground. With her head pulled back, she looked up to see Sgäile, his grip tangled in her hair. He sucked a sharp breath at the sight of her face.
Magiere swung a hand upward to claw his astonished features, but Sgäile fell away beneath a snarling silver-furred bulk. Magiere toppled sideways as Sgäiles grip tore from her hair. Her hand slapped firmly against the base of the birch.
Shock ran through her and every muscle clenched tight.
A wild rush of nervous energy flooded her limbs from that brief touch and filled her up with its intensity.
Magiere jerked her hand away, rolling to her feet. Sgäile struggled under Chap's assault, but the dog wheeled around, charging the other way.
He was hunting—like her—and Magiere's hungry gaze traced the path to his target.
A dark-furred dog rushed at her, its gray-peppered jowls pulled back from yellowed teeth.
Leesil heard Magiere's feral screech as she reached for one Anmaglâhk with Sgäile coming at her from behind. Chap took Sgäile down but not before Magiere toppled. When she rose, shuddering as she snatched her hand from a tree, Leesil saw her face.
Her teeth… the tears… her irises so full black they nearly blotted out the whites of her eyes. He started to run for her.
Brot'an stepped in his way, and Leesil threw himself at the tall elf.
"Leesil… no!" his mother shouted.
Brot'an's palm slammed against Leesil's chest, driving the air from his lungs. But it wasn't enough to stop him.
Leesil fell on Brot'an, and they both hit the ground. He tumbled away as Brot'an tried to grab him. When he reached his feet, Wynn raced by him, clutching something in her arms. She threw it, and only then Leesil saw the large, grizzled majay-hì charge Magiere.
Bits of fluffy white nodules spun from the basket Wynn had thrown. It hit the charging dog in the shoulder. The impact startled the dark majay-hì. It spun away, and Chap barreled into the dog. Both wheeled around each other in snapping growls.