Whisper and Rise

by Jamie Day

  “I don’t know,” said Darian, “I feel safer here. The bars work both ways. It doesn’t feel like a prison, to me.”

  “In my village, we say what keeps trouble out can trap you inside.”

  “Maybe so,” Darian answered. “But if anyone comes looking, they won’t find us easily. I wish the gate had a lock on it.” Before I could speak again, Darian leapt to his feet and scrambled to the corner. “There’s someone out there,” he said. “A woman.”

  I shook my head in annoyance and wandered to the gate. “That’s no woman,” I told him.

  As if called late for a meal, Taya entered the cave. She was only a short shadow, but her footsteps had the same confident brashness as her voice. She was laughing, along with my father, and together they carried bags full of freshly cut meat. I cringed as I realized we might sleep that night next to her kill.

  “What are you doing back there,” bellowed my father, mocking me with another chuckle. “Did someone lock you in?”

  “No!” My tone matched his. I covered my mouth for my rudeness. The girl I had once been would never have raised her voice to a parent. I wasn’t that girl anymore. Of course, I wasn’t as bold as Taya, either. Then I took a breath and tried to speak as politely as I dared. “It’s safer back here. Nothing can harm us behind the gate.”

  Before my words stopped echoing, Taya dropped her supplies, armed the bow that had been slung over her shoulder, and shot an arrow through the bars. It wasn’t close to me, but it struck the rusted lock and knocked it against the cave wall with a sharp ring. I jumped back.

  “A girl like you is never safe,” she grumbled. She snatched her bags from the ground and lumbered toward us, followed by my father’s laughter.

  As much as she appeared to hate me, I despised her more. In front of my father, she hadn’t ceased to mock me and I had been unable to quell her insults. I glared at her as she pushed open the gate, but let her pass me without a word.

  “She’s energetic, isn’t she?” said Father as he met me. “Go collect some wood for the fire. We’ll feast tonight!” He didn’t turn to look at me, or show kindness with a smile. Instead, he kept walking, laughing as he wandered around the corner into the cave.

  It was my cave. I had found it. It belonged to me. It was on my land. Why was I suddenly the outcast? I wanted to yell at the woman, at Darian and at my father. They had no right after everything I had been through in less than a season.

  The gate slammed shut behind me as I released my grip and stumbled into the darkness. If there was danger out, I didn’t hear it. The anger in my thoughts blared curses at my fortune. I dragged dead branches from the underbrush and tossed them into a pile at the cave’s entrance. It became an altar of my madness; I kept adding wood, ignoring the stinging cuts and scratches on my hands, until the pile reached my height.

  Still hot and raging, I leaned against the cliff stones and allowed the night to cover me. I needed to cry, and there, I let my tears flow free. While I wished away my sorrow, I stared at a small space between the treetops and aimed spite at the stars. When my sobs whimpered to lonely heaves of breath, I grabbed a couple long branches to drag behind and wandered back into the cave.

  “There she is.” Father was already smoking, which hinted of his comfort. “I was almost worried.”

  I started to glare, but when he smiled at me I stopped my face from wrenching and dropped the branches. “I’ve made a pile,” I told him. “I’ll return with the rest.”

  “No, sit down,” said Father. He groaned and placed his weight on my shoulder as he stood. “I can manage the rest. Share some of your mother’s cooking tips with Taya.” He winked at me before lumbering around the corner.

  I leaned near the fire, although I didn’t need to. Large flames roasted the air, making the cave comfortable and warm. The heat of my anger had left me, and I felt cold and weak in comparison.

  “I know how to cook,” said Taya absently, without looking at me. She grabbed a chunk of the fresh venison and tossed it into the flames.

  “No!” I reached out to her, in an effort to warn, despite knowing I couldn’t stop the action. “Not in the flames.” I pointed to the rocks around the fire.

  “How else do you think it will burn?” she asked, turning to stare.

  I noticed her face in the light for the first time. She wasn’t old, like her voice hinted, but young; a hint of innocence lay buried under her heavy brow and mangled hair. If not for her hardened manners and cruel intention toward life, she could have been beautiful. When I caught myself looking longer than I should have, I answered.

  “If you want to char the flesh, then fine, toss the meat into the flames.” I chose one of the strips of meat from her open pouch, cautious of a reproach, and laid it gently along the flat surface of one of the stones. “If you want to keep the flavor, then heat it indirectly and let it slowly sizzle.”

  I grinned with a tiny taste of pride. With the right ingredients, her offering would make a fantastic meal. Then I sighed. I missed Mother’s cooking. “If I had some herbs and salt, we could season this perfectly. Then you would never want for anything less than its magnificence.”

  Taya glared at me and tossed another strip into the flames. “It’s meat,” she retorted. “There’s nothing to marvel about it. I’m not waiting to savor anything. When it’s burnt, I’ll eat it.”

  Nothing seemed to please this woman, and I scolded myself in thought for trying to make a friend. What did Father like about her? As if called to answer, he returned and tossed an armful of logs against the wall behind me. The wood cracked and splintered into a dozen pieces.

  “You’ve quite the daughter, Neal,” said Taya. “She wants to waste the night waiting for flavor and succulence.” She tossed another chunk of venison into the center of the fire in an obvious attempt to mock me further.

  Father questioned me with his eyes as he rolled to the floor. “Ah,” he offered, “but you should taste the magic of her mother’s meals.” He pointed a thick finger at Taya. “You’d melt in the flavor.” He was smiling, though his beard hid the dimples I remembered from my childhood.

  Darian sat opposite the fire, holding his arm while we watched the flames dance and listened to the crackle of wood and the sizzle of our steaks. Still unseasoned, the smell from the meat made my stomach groan for nourishment. I hadn’t eaten a full meal since the celebration, which seemed a season ago already. Finally, Taya broke the moment and jabbed her long knife into the fire. With skill, she balanced the knife in front of her and plunged her teeth into her catch.

  Her teeth—I understood why the woman never grinned when I saw them again. Aimed away from the next, each tooth was either broken or yellow. This woman was unkempt in every way. I couldn’t keep the question about bathing from my mind. She was dressed like a man, though different from the men I had always known. She wore loose pants, partially covered by a long leather shirt and her boots were well made, carefully stitched and padded in layers on the soles. She wore an assortment of belts and pouches around her shoulders and waist. If human fingers were inside those pouches, I would not have been surprised.

  While the woman mumbled and belched at her meal, Father decided to make himself comfortable with his pipe. A long puff of smoke and an eruption of tobacco weed made him sigh with exhilaration. He leaned back on one elbow and shared his visions through the patterns in his murky breath.

  It reminded of the home I had lost. Nights had been comfortable there. Cold evenings by the fireplace had always led to fantastic stories. Mother’s stories were the most magical, but Father told his with passion and prominence. Leila, Ethan and I had often huddled together, absorbing every word our parents shared. That was a different era, before I was rejected from the Fae, before flames took our home. To keep from dwelling in misery, I leaned forward and turned my steak over with my fingers.

  “Do you mind?” asked Taya.

  I flashed my spite at the woman, but noticed she was looking at my father. She stabbed her emp
ty knife into the flames and flicked a smoking steak at him.

  “Take some meat,” she told him, “if you’ll share your pipe for a while.”

  Father’s surprise was obvious in his voice, but he laughed with delight. “Oh, you are a treasure,” he exclaimed. “Savor in the flavor of Aisling’s pleasures.” He started to reach the pipe over the flames, but stopped. “How about you, bandit,” he said, pointing at Darian. “Are you as daring as this woman?”

  Taya snorted.

  Darian shook his head. I watched him intently while trying to measure if Father’s mocking would bring out the beast I had feared. I didn’t want it to happen, but if Darian was going to lose his temper, I was grateful to have someone next to me to keep me safe.

  “No, sir,” he said, using the same polite voice I remembered. “Thank you.”

  Father’s laughter echoed through the cave as he handed the pipe to Taya. She was laughing too. I grinned along with them, wondering if Darian realized what had just happened; he had suddenly become their target for teasing, releasing me from the cruel woman’s insults.

  Taya Zhan puffed on the pipe, surprising me with her vulgarity once more, while Father gnawed happily on his trade. I sat in silence, watching my meat warm and wishing I had been brave enough to toss mine into the flames. I was starving. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. Using a small stick, I poked my steak and dropped it onto a flat rock I had chosen for a plate. I was contemplating grabbing it like Father, when I noticed Darian’s eager face. There was another slice of deer in the fire, but I didn’t think he dared grab it; at least the look on his face told me as much.

  “Would you like some meat, Darian?” I asked, nodding toward my steaming supper.

  “Yes, please. I would like some.”

  Not willing to part with all of my meal, I looked at Taya and wondered how I could request her blade. Before I could speak again, she swiped her arm toward my leg and sliced the meat, sending a spark from the rock I had chosen. I thanked her with a nervous nod and tossed one piece of steak over the fire at the man who had once tried to kill me. Then I tasted heaven.

  It wasn’t Mother’s cooking, but after several days of longing for a warm meal, the deer from the meadow was the closest thing to bliss I could imagine. Each bite dripped savory juices and left me wishing for more. I had grown up with pork and beef and chicken. Their flavor, in comparison, seemed tame and flat to this marvelous feast. While I imagined stew made of deer meat, and all the vegetables in it, Darian offered his own sentiments.

  “This is the best meat I can remember,” he said. “Thank you.”

  I turned to the woman hunter and nodded my agreement. “This is a great meal. Thank you for sharing.”

  Ignoring our sentiments, Taya blew a stream of wispy cloud at the fire before handing my father his pipe. “You’re right, Neal,” she said. “This is a pleasure.”

  She opened the leather flap of one pouch and removed a flat white bone. Focused on her hand, she lifted her knife and cut at the bone, shaving tiny flakes toward the fire. I watched her, amazed at the precision and control of her hands. Taya had already demonstrated her ability with a bow, and now casually displayed her love of craft.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, offering another goodwill compliment to ease the rift between us. “You have great skill. What are you making?”

  She answered without looking up. “Arrowheads.”

  I had never heard of bone used for arrows. The hunters in Aisling always fashioned the heads from shiny black stones they collected near the river. Leila and I used to look for the stones and make wishes before tossing them downstream. “I’ve never heard of arrows made from bone,” I said to her. “Do they work as well as stone?”

  Taya leapt to her feet. “The griblin’s bones are the sharpest and most valuable prize for a hunter,” she said, her eyes reflecting the flames. “Their horns are sharp enough. The bones do just the same.”

  “What’s a griblin?” asked Darian, leaning toward her, despite the menacing glance Taya flashed at him. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

  “They’re a myth,” said my father. He leaned back and puffed a cloud toward the roof of the cave. “They died out centuries ago, leaving legends in their place.”

  Taya thrust the bone at my father. “See the myth for yourself, Neal,” she ordered. “Toss this into the flames and then tell me their stories.” She turned and lifted her shirt, revealing her stomach to all of us. Across her front and around her side, was a thick crooked scar, lighter than her dirty skin. She pointed at it with her knife. “I tracked one over these mountains, two years ago. He got my flesh and I got his bones.”

  I gasped. Not anyone injured as badly would live long without proper care. Even the best of Fae healing would have been limited with such a gash.

  Darian removed the andelin leaf from his arm and examined his wound. “I’m hardly injured in comparison.” He tossed the leaf into the fire and covered his arm with a fresh one.

  “What’s that?” Taya lowered her shirt and replaced the knife into a sheath across her shoulder. She grabbed Darian’s arm for a closer look.

  “It’s not so bad,” said Darian, straightening in an obvious effort to appear unhurt.

  Taya pried away his hand and stripped the leaf, holding it up to examine. “This does nothing,” she said. She crumpled the leaf in her fist and turned to Darian. “Give yourself to witchcraft and there’s no telling what you’ll become.”

  “It’s not witchcraft!” My voice echoed in angles that shattered the night around us.

  Taya grabbed Darian’s arm again and squeezed, releasing an explosion of blood and white infection. His yells and screams while he tried to wriggle free smothered any doubt that she was hurting him.

  “Leave him alone,” I cried, twisting away from the pain I saw. “He might have been poisoned. The andelin leaves will heal him.”

  Taya ignored my plea and continued her assault on Darian, grunting as she twisted his arm, squeezing his life while he withered helplessly. She laughed with casual unconcern.

  “Father, help him!”

  My father leaned back and puffed another circle of smoke. He didn’t speak, and I saw the hint of a smile beneath his beard. Then it was over. Darian lay on the dirt, facing away from us and groaning. Taya mounted him, pressing him to the ground with her thighs, and leaned close.

  “I can sew it closed,” she said, whispering loud enough that the rasp carried across the fire. “Do you want my healing touch?”

  “No.”

  Taya flashed a grin at me and rolled to sit next to the fire. Darian glared over his shoulder and snatched a leaf from near his feet, quickly covering his wound again. With another chuckle, Taya lifted her sleeve and exposed another scar. I wondered how much of her body had been exposed to such brutal pain.

  “You’ll have a mark of honor, dark one,” she said, rubbing her streak of pale skin with pride. “Not many live through a poisoned arrow long enough to scar.”

  While father displayed his enjoyment with laughter, I allowed the incense of the moment to burn inside me. Darian lay on the ground, groaning and sniffling while Taya sat relaxed in front of the fire, whittling another griblin bone as if she’d done the man no harm. I could never have been so cruel, yet in my village, I was the villain—I was the rejected. I was nothing like Taya. I hated her. Next to her, I felt like a child. She seemed to take pleasure knowing so.

  “You’ve seen terror,” said my father to her. “I can see it in your coldness to pain.” He rolled to his side and reclined further from the heat of the flames. “Tell us, what do you know of war?”

  “War is a curse on the eastern lands,” she answered. “There are those who keep fighting and those who die.” She paused as if a memory caught hold. She lowered her voice. “And there are those who chose to leave.”

  “Is that why you came to Aisling?” Father’s voice carried the concern of an Elder, not the admiration he had displayed all evening. “Are yo
u escaping?”

  “I won’t stay in your valley,” said Taya, “I never have. There’s nothing here to please me.” She nodded a longing glance at my father’s pipe. “Except these hills. The hunting’s good on this mountain.”

  I remembered Maeia. “Did you see horses there,” I asked, “on the mountain?”

  Taya nodded. “There’s plenty to find—and to hunt. If I were staying long, I would have taken one. Horse meat is more filling than deer.”

  Again, her words seemed to mock me. Many in Aisling ate the meat of horses. Father thought it was cruel, and had taught our family the same. Whenever one of our beloved creatures died, he took care to sell its flesh to passing traders, rather than risk our partaking from a neighbor unknowingly. I was grateful for his discretion; the horses were more like my family than most of the villagers.

  I swallowed a gulp of spite. “A white horse?” I asked. “Did you see one with the others?”

  “No,” Taya whispered her words as she turned with wide eyes. “I’ve seen them before,” she said, almost bragging. “When I was a child, we travelled to the northern mountains of snow to see them. Marvelous herds of a flowing white wave.” She looked up and smiled. It was the first smile she had exposed. When she didn’t show her teeth, it was lovely. “In the eastern lands we call them the Safi, sacred as the sun and pure as the winters surrounding them. To injure one is certain death by burning.”

  “Rhiannon has a white mare,” said Father, straightening to participate in the discussion. “She’s gone missing.”

  “A Safi?” Taya’s admiration changed her look in such a way that, for a moment, I forgot her vulgarities.

  “Yes,” I answered, “her name is Maeia. She was a promise gift from—” I stopped talking, refusing to reveal my secrets to the woman. Even with her admiration, she was still a stranger, and a part of me feared the night with her near me.