Fire Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  Jenna glanced at Kane, and found him unchanged. She looked back at Tal. “And will you ever have paid enough?”

  Tal’s changeable eyes narrowed. “Probably not enough to ever break the spell, unless I finally find the one who cast it,” he said. “But I do not think we are speaking of me any longer.”

  She did not deny his perceptive—or magical—guess. “He has paid a great deal for his past,” she said softly. “Must he give up his life for the peace he seeks?”

  She saw the glint of that golden glow deep in Tal’s eyes. “You said you wished I would take back the promise I gave you and give it to him. Did you mean it?”

  She did not question how he knew, nor did it frighten her; whatever Tal was, he was not evil, no matter what others might think. There was great darkness in him; she knew that, and from what he had just said, she knew his life had not been easy, but there was no malice, no malevolence in him. So she answered him honestly.

  “I meant it. Can you do it?”

  “Not . . . exactly.”

  She looked at Kane, saw the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the shallowness of his breathing. He appeared barely alive, and her heart twisted painfully inside her. She had to look away.

  “What can you do, then?” she asked, looking instead at the wizard who sat so calmly beside her.

  He smiled at her then, a lovely, soft smile that took her breath away. Tal was indeed a beautiful man, and it amazed her yet again that she could be immune to him simply by the sheer power of her love for Kane. She hoped someday Tal would find a woman who would love him for all that he was, who would look past the things that frightened people so and see the brave, generous, honorable heart.

  “I can give you rest,” he said quietly, reaching out to touch her cheek.

  She needed rest, she admitted; the weariness was suddenly almost overpowering. But she could not sleep, not when Kane was so weak, so near to leaving her forever.

  “He will be here when you wake,” Tal promised softly.

  Jenna yawned, fighting the need to go to sleep right now. She forced her eyes open, and stared at Tal. His eyes glittered oddly, in a way she’d never seen before, even as changeable as they were.

  Tears? she wondered. Surely not. Wizards didn’t cry, did they? And he had promised Kane would be there, it could not be that. . . .

  “Tal? What is wrong?” she asked, her voice already heavy with the sleep she was resisting.

  “A woman once looked at me the way you look at him,” he whispered. “She paid the price for what I did as well. And I can never atone for that.”

  In that moment, Jenna saw in the wizard’s face the man he had been, and the man he was now, a man almost beyond retrieval, and who knew it. Her heart ached for him, and for a moment Tal closed his eyes, as if it had shown in her face and was too much for him to bear. Then he opened them again, and the golden glint was even stronger.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Now rest.”

  In that moment her head became too heavy to hold up. She lay down upon Kane’s chest, taking some small comfort in the sound of his heart, even though the beat was alarmingly faint.

  “Rest, Jenna.” Tal’s voice was lulling, soothing. “You have earned it. You both have. Kane will have his peace. And you will both reap the harvest of your own courage.”

  She murmured something, or tried to. She heard Tal say something, very softly, something that sounded like good-bye. And then the blackness, dark, warm, and mercifully free of dreams, enveloped her.

  JENNA AWOKE slowly, coming up out of the dark depths of a healing sleep like a small trout swimming toward the morning sun. She did not know how long she’d slept, only that it was long enough that sunlight came through the windows of her cottage, and that Kane’s chest felt even harder than usual beneath her cheek.

  It was harder. No, it was not Kane’s chest she felt.

  She sat up sharply, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch him, dreading what she might find. But he still breathed, his heart still beat . . . was it even stronger now? Was he truly warmer, or was it merely wishful thinking on her part?

  She did not trust herself to judge, and thought to call Evelin. But before she could make the thought action, she realized what she had been resting on, although she did not know where it had come from, how it had gotten wedged beneath her head while she slept.

  It was a book.

  She knew it only by hearsay; she was familiar with scrolls and the like, but this kind of thing was unknown to her people. But the storyteller had spoken of them, of volumes that lasted much longer than the fragile parchments, generations, volumes oddly bound with a protective cover that held pages in place for easy reading, that—

  The storyteller.

  Tal.

  She stared down at the heavy tome. It was covered with what felt and smelled like leather, although it was stiffened somehow. The color was deep, rich, and dark blue. The pages looked thick and heavy, and were edged with gold that glinted in the morning light in a way that reminded her of the glint in the wizard’s eyes; she was more sure than ever that this had somehow come from him.

  She inspected the volume carefully. There were no markings on the outside, nothing to hint at what it held. But the most overpowering thing about it was that it was . . . warm. Not in the way she would have expected had it truly rested beneath her cheek for any length of time, but in an odd way that made her, holding it, somehow feel warmer. And she couldn’t define the strange sense of peace that seemed to have overtaken her. Peace, and a gentle easing of tension and strain.

  Kane will have his peace. And you will both reap the harvest of your own courage.

  Tal’s words echoed in her mind. Yes, it had come from him. She could not doubt that now. And as if in confirmation, something else he’d said came to her, in Tal’s voice, as clearly as if he were there and had spoken the words again.

  But there must be a way for those who are the last of the line to know, to understand what they must do to assure it continues. Something to guide them along the right path . . .

  A guide.

  She looked at the book more closely.

  The pages were of parchment, made heavier and stiffer by the gilt of the edges. The inside of the cover was lined with an even heavier parchment that also made up the first page, a paper marbled with an unusual design in shades of blue that blended with the color of the cover. A design that seemed to change as she looked at it, to flow and fluctuate, until she almost thought she was seeing something more than a random design, thought she was seeing images there, shadowy figures of people, seeming to move as she looked. She felt an odd light-headedness, shook her head sharply, and the pattern settled down into a merely intriguing flow of lines and ripples.

  Wizard’s work for sure, she thought, but she felt no fear. She could not fear anything that had come from Tal.

  She turned one of the parchment pages. It was blank, but the next page was filled with lines of an ornate, elegant script, in the written language of her people. For an instant she simply admired the grace of the writing, but then her gaze locked on the top line, and she froze.

  The page was headed with a variation of her name, in a bolder version of the same script. And Kane’s name was set beside it, in the same bold hand.

  “Jenna Hawk,” she whispered, liking the sound of it. Simple, clean, minus the pretension of her title.

  Kane was listed only as Kane. No explanation, but then, legends did not need explanation. When she read on, her brow furrowed. Unfolding there was the story of her clan, bits of history no one outside knew, not even the storyteller.

  But Tal would know. She read on.

  Tears began to pool in her eyes as she read the stark, unflinching account of the horrors that had befallen them, and in reading the account Jenna saw how futile their efforts
had been, how foolish to think they could match such a force as Druas. She read of the deaths, so many deaths, and pain welled up anew at the loss. Her mother, her brother, Latham, Lucas, all the others . . .

  Her fingers tightened convulsively on the binding, and she felt another rush of that odd warmth, as if someone had touched her with a gentle hand, just to assure her she was not alone. It was so strong she lifted her head quietly to look around, half expecting to see Tal again. But the cottage was empty, quiet, as she had ordered it when Evelin had told her there was nothing more she could do, nothing anyone could do but wait for Kane to heal or die.

  She looked again at Kane. Hope leapt in her chest; he did look better, she was almost certain. And he was warmer; she knew he was. As warm as the book felt to her, she thought, wondering if there was some connection. Yet she hesitated in summoning the healer; she did not want to hear, or see in those wise old eyes that she was fooling herself.

  Drawn inexorably, she looked back at the hook, at the story written there. It told of her search for Kane, the arduous journey, and his initial refusal to help her. And heat crept up to her cheeks as it told of the bargain they’d struck, including the price Kane had demanded and she had paid. She had realized Tal would no doubt know this as well, but it was still disconcerting to see it written so plainly. Only the fact that the book also said that the price had become more of a joy than an obligation kept her from closing the book in embarrassment.

  She smiled at the account of her first encounter with Tal. The book made her part in his escape sound much more pivotal than it had been; she realized now he had never needed her help at all. But the words praised her courage to the skies, and her kindness and gentleness far beyond human capacity for such things.

  She read on, and in a few moments had the answer to what she had suspected; the final battle, where the wizard she had saved returned the favor to her clan, creating the vision of a huge armed troop, and of herself and Kane to lead the battle. She remembered what it had cost him, as well, remembered what he had looked like when she had found him afterward. No, she could never be afraid of him, wizard, sorcerer, or whatever the world called him.

  The next passage was of Kane, of his daring, his bravery, and the way he had risked his life for her and her people, and she read swiftly, hoping to find some proof that Tal had done as she asked, that he had taken back the promise he had given her and given it to Kane instead. Instead, she found again Tal’s promise as if it had been given to her, that her line would never die, and in fear she lifted her head and looked at Kane.

  Her breath caught. His eyes were open, and he was watching her.

  And then, slowly, he smiled. He looked bemused, as if he were surprised he was still here. But what showed in his eyes above all else was the love behind that smile, in these moments when he was too unsteady to try and hide it.

  And Jenna knew the joy had only begun.

  Chapter 25

  “KANE . . . HAWK?”

  He said it tentatively, uncertainly. The offer was so very tempting, to stay here, to become one of the Hawk clan. But it would also be unbearable, to be so close to her and not be able to—

  “Do you not see?” Jenna asked, cutting off the painful thought. “ ’Tis what Tal’s prophecy really meant, not that you would die, but that the man you were would be no more. That it is Kane Druas who will die, the moment Kane Hawk is born.”

  “I . . .” Kane stooped and shook his head in bewilderment, slowly; his strength was still limited, and he was still feeling a bit dazed. As much from all Jenna had told him as from his injury. He felt like a man within reach of the sun, needing the warmth so desperately, yet fearing the inevitable burn.

  Finally he decided on a question he thought safe enough. “Tal . . . was here?”

  “He was.” Her expression changed, saddened. “But I do not know if he will come back. I . . . have the sense that this”—she held up the book—“was a parting gift.”

  She had told him the whole incredible story when she had explained about the appearance of the mysterious book. And when she had read the writing it held to him, and he had been forced to admit there was no way Tal could have known much of it save magic of some sort. And he’d had to believe the tale of the vision Tal had created; he’d seen the mounted warriors himself, had heard the clan speaking of him and Jenna leading the battle when in fact they had been locked inside the stronghold walls. He’d admitted in his head that Tal had such powers, but only then had he at last admitted it in his heart.

  It was when she told him of finding Tal after, appearing near to death himself, that he had realized it did not matter what Tal was, only that he still and would ever call him friend. And he had sought reassurance that Tal had survived, that she had seen him since that time, alive and well.

  He looked now at the book his friend had left behind.

  “I . . . hope it is not meant as good-bye,” he said quietly.

  “As do I,” Jenna said. “He is an extraordinary man, but I think he carries many secrets and too much darkness for one soul, and he needs friends who will not hold against him the simple fact of what he is.”

  “I . . . do not.”

  “I know. And so does he, Kane. He knew the battle you fought was with yourself more than he.”

  “He truly said . . . good-bye?”

  “I cannot be sure,” Jenna said, her expression troubled once more. “I was so very tired, I might have dreamed it.”

  Evelin had told him how Jenna had refused to leave him for days, refusing to sleep or even eat more than crumbs while he lay near death. And he could not deny the look on her face when he had first opened his eyes to her; it had been pure joy, and it had thawed the last frozen bit of his heart as the sun thawed the winter ice on the forest pond.

  But it seemed so impossible, that such a treasure should be within his reach, that he had bit back the first words that rose to his lips. Perhaps she was just grateful that he lived, he’d told himself. She would feel the same for anyone who had helped her save her people.

  And anyone who had done so would have been welcomed by the clan as well, he told himself now. The offer had been from the clan, not Jenna herself. He would do well to remember that.

  “The book,” he said, not liking the turn his thoughts had taken, even though he knew it had to be the truth. “He said it was a . . . guide of some kind?”

  She nodded. “He promised me my descendants would always walk the world. And that there would be a guide to show any who were the last of the blood what must be done to assure this.”

  “Your . . . descendants,” he said, lowering his eyes.

  Children. Jenna’s children. Who would have children after them, who would also have children, on down through eternity. He did not doubt it would be so; Tal did not make promises lightly. So the Hawks would go on, the children of this woman who had proven herself worth both the title and the reverence that came with it. They would be the children of royalty, in spirit as well as fact.

  And they would be fathered by someone deserving. Someone as fine of heart and spirit as Jenna herself. Someone who had earned the right to become her mate by living a life worthy of her.

  Someone he hated even without knowing who he was.

  “Is the thought so awful to you?”

  He looked up at her words, sensing the sudden tension in her. “What?”

  “Descendants. Children. Is it such a repellent idea?”

  “No,” he said hastily, realizing his feelings must have been reflected in his expression. “You will have . . . many, I’m sure.”

  As he spoke the words something tore inside him, hurting as badly as the stabbing blow his father’s sword had delivered. Even imagining them together, Jenna and whoever he would be that would father those descendants, made him sick inside.

  Oddly, Jenna looked
relieved.

  “Then what is it that makes you . . . scowl so?” Jenna asked. “Is it that you do not care for taking the Hawk name?”

  He struggled to keep up with her; he was weary, and emotions he’d never felt before were making it difficult to think clearly. “ ’Tis not. It is a fine name, a name to be proud of. Certainly better than that which I carry from birth.”

  “Then perhaps you have some idea it is not fitting that Kane the Warrior take the name of a woman?”

  He shook his head; he was feeling a bit dizzy again. “Jenna, I am honored that your clan would consent to have me among them, more so that they would allow me the name. ’Tis . . . more than I deserve, but . . . I cannot.”

  She drew back, her eyes narrowing again, and all the tension he’d sensed before rushing back.

  “Cannot . . . what?”

  “Stay.”

  She looked away abruptly, lowering her head as if staring at her hands folded in her lap were her sole task in life. The wavy mass of her hair fell forward, masking her face from him.

  “It is . . . me, then?” she asked, her voice oddly tight.

  He was surprised at her perception, but then realized he should not have been; she had always seemed to have a knack for sensing, not his thoughts, as Tal did, but his feelings. Almost as uncanny a talent, really, since he understood them so little himself. But this he understood.

  “I . . . could not do it, Jenna,” he said softly. “To live here, to be so close to you, and not . . . I could not watch you with those children who will come, watch them with their father and wish—”

  “Watch them with their father?”

  Jenna’s head had come up sharply, and she looked at him. She had been weeping, he realized in shock as he saw the wetness on her cheeks. He stared at her, utterly lost now, wondering why on earth she was crying now, when it was all over, her people were safe, and he would soon be gone and her life would be her own once more.