A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Tannen shrugged. “I do not mind—it makes him happy. And someday he might forget.”

  Adal’s eyes were bright. “I think that we should eat sugared berries and steal some cream from my sister’s house,” she declared. “And then take a nap in the sun down by the crooked blue creek. This sounds like a good use of our time.”

  Tannen’s eye widened. “There are blackberries in the longhouse.”

  Adal’s eyes became shrewd. “This is a good plan. If we go throu—”

  “Adal!”

  Her mother looked up sharply at her father’s voice, and the flap of the door was thrown to the side. Her father stood tall in his leather breeches, his bare upper body covered with sweat and dust. His feet were bare and dirty. His long blond hair was thick and it curled, his small braids layered through it all. His great sandcat, Letty, came through the door beside him, and Tannen stood as her mother lifted her up and to the side.

  “The wall is down.”

  Adal was on her feet, and Tannen felt the air in the room change, becoming tight upon the letters of her father’s words. Pallay leaped into the room and onto the table, and Tannen looked down as Hashiki wound between her legs.

  “Where? For how long?”

  “Along the green river, by the olden oaks that we brought down from the Abatmarle,” her father answered. His eyes fell to Tannen. “It will be all right, little one,” he said quietly and smiled just a bit. “No one knows. Betta’s Gray Eyes flew over and saw it first. It took us three hours to get there. Adal, Letty could smell them.”

  Adal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sound the horn,” she told him. “Open the main longhouse doors, and gather the children by the forge. I will be along as quick as I can.”

  Her parents stared at each other across the room.

  “You look quite fine in your new leathers, Jace,” Adal whispered. “I will know your arms anywhere. I will recognize you.”

  Her father’s eyes were very bright. “As I will know your sweet kiss, Adal.”

  He walked forward then, and Tannen waited for him as he went to a knee before her. He took hold of her arms. His eyes were green and blue. “I love you, Tannen Ahru.” He looked down. “I love you, Hashiki.” He kissed Tannen’s cheek. “One day soon, we shall catch you a wild stallion near the sacred mountain, and you will feel the gods in your hair as you ride.”

  “I love you, Pappa,” Tannen said, and her heart trembled. She reached up and touched his cheek, and he smiled beneath her hand. “You are the best Pappa in the world, and I am thankful for you. Hashiki is, too.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek a second time. “I will see you both at the forge.”

  He was up and gone before she could respond, the leather door swinging behind him. Letty looked up at her mother, and her whiskers quivered.

  “My sweet Letty,” Adal said, and Pallay leaped from the table. “Pallay will go with you.” Letty twined her neck about Pallay’s and then they twisted together as they chased after her father.

  “Tannen, my love, my light…”

  Tannen turned and watched as her mother went to the hearth and opened the maplewood box upon the stones of the mantel. It had always been there, the box that her mother would stare at sometimes, when her father would sing before the fire on winter nights that seemed to last forever. “Yes, Mamma?”

  Adal took something from the box and turned back around, sitting upon the stool beside the hearth. “Come here, my wild lynx…You, too, Hashiki.”

  Tannen did as she was told and Adal pulled her gently between her legs, Hashiki stepping behind her mother’s feet and sitting down. “Who has come through the wall, Mamma?”

  “Listen to me very closely, Tannen Ahru.” She held up a small leather journal, and Tannen could see that it was bound tightly about cut parchment pages. “In this book, I have written down some stories for you, and a few other things, as well. You must always keep it safe, for you may need it.”

  “Who came through the wall, Mamma?”

  “Take it, Tannen, and feel the weight of it.”

  Tannen did as she was told.

  “It is heavy with my words. Can you feel it?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Fakir have come through the wall.”

  Tannen remembered what Enoch had said, and she felt her tears rise up in her eyes and then fall down her cheeks.

  “There will be a great battle here…right here, where we live. And I must lead our people. But you? You must lead the children. You must lead them to Enoch, who waits even now at the foot of the Maple Tree Hill.” Adal smiled. “Because you are my daughter, and I am the Loquio of the Fox People, I am entrusting this great responsibility to you.” Her mother wiped at the tears and her hands were hot against Tannen’s face.

  “Is this what you saw?”

  Adal frowned, her eyes curious.

  “Enoch said you had a vision.”

  Adal took a deep breath and then nodded. “Yes. This is what I saw.”

  “Are we going to die?”

  Adal smiled, though her expression was heavy with sadness. “Some of us will, yes, though I do not know who. Sorrow will come for many.”

  “But not you,” Tannen stated simply. “And not Pappa.”

  “I have seen many things in many visions, and that is something Enoch doesn’t know,” Adal said in a whisper. “I saw a battle with the Fakir, and I saw you, high atop the sacred mountain. I saw you stand before a towering black wall of rock. I saw a girl in a garden with a panther. I saw you standing in a forest of blackened trees, with Hashiki beside you. I saw a chair with jade stones in it, so rich with soft yellow gold that it hurt my eyes to look at it. And I saw the threads of the Great Loom stretched out before me like the hair in a horse’s mane, too many to count. I have seen many things, Tannen…” She held the book up. “It is all here, what I have seen. And I have written down the spells that Enoch taught me, and what they mean. And the spells I have learned over the years, on my own, are inside. I have written down our traditions and our history, for it seemed like a good and wise thing to do. We will read it on Solstice Eve, and talk of the Fox People. Does that sound like something you would like?”

  “Yes, Mamma,” Tannen answered. “With apple spice cider?”

  “Yes,” Adal agreed. “We shall have a grand day, and the snow will fall. We will be warm inside, and your Pappa will sing. I want you to keep it safe for me. Will you do me that honor, my daughter?”

  “Yes, Mamma,” Tannen replied and took the book.

  “And this.” Adal slipped the silver cuff from her left wrist and held it out. “Today is a day I shall not need this. Will you keep this safe for me, as well?”

  Tannen stared at the Shou-ah bracelet and then met her mother’s gaze.

  “Usually, a Shou-ah bracelet is made for each person, as you know, their own special cuff. Everyone should have something that is just for them, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I will tell you a secret…” Adal took Tannen’s hand and placed the bracelet in it. “They are all the same on the inside.” She chuckled and Tannen smiled a bit. “When your Pappa goes hunting? Sometimes for days? He will wear mine, and I will wear his. They work just the same…But that way, you see”—Adal’s voice overflowed with feeling, and it caused a painful flutter in Tannen’s chest—“we are always together, for this is a part of my soul.”

  “Why do we not take the firefly gate?”

  “Because this is our land, in the end,” Adal answered. “Over the years, we have been driven from place to place, with few friends. We have nowhere else to go, unless we return to the Abatmarle. Here we have allies close by, for the people of the plains are good friends and would help us. We will send word to them, and they will come. We have our crops that will see us through the winter, and stores that will keep us healthy and strong, though if we must, we will go through the firefly gate and take our chances in the darkness of the Abatmarle. But we must fight for what is ours.
If you do not fight for what is yours, Tannen, it will be taken from you. Or you will be driven away from what you love, by the will of others.”

  “Yes, Mamma.”

  “All right then,” Adal said and kissed Tannen’s cheek. “Go get your boots on, the warm ones. And your coat, just in case. Put on your sword. I will pack a small bag for you.”

  Tannen hurried about the table and turned at the door to the other room. “But it’s not yet cold, Mamma. What if—”

  “Put them on, Tannen, do not argue.” Adal’s voice was firm. “There is room to grow, and should it turn cold, you will have them.” Adal smiled at her. “Please, Tannen, then I will not worry until I see you again.”

  “I will wear them—you are right,” Tannen said. “I love you. Thank you for looking out for me. You think of things I can never think of.”

  Adal looked back at her from across the room. “I love you…You are my heart, Tannen. You and Hashiki, you will be the bravest and strongest of us all. I have seen it.” She picked up Hashiki and kissed her face, the lynx pushing her face against Adal’s neck.

  Darry felt the darkness close about her as Adal de Hinsa looked her in the eyes across the distance of a thousand years, Darry falling and spinning away from her. Darry’s terrible fear mixed oddly with the comforting smells of home, and then the warmth of being loved beyond all else slipped through her fingers like water…

  Darry stood in the shadows beneath the heavy tendrils of the bossa tree and watched as Jessa sat upon the garden bench, bewitching in her dress as the music from the fete played in the distance. Her hair tumbled in dark curls about her shoulders and down her back, Jessa lifting her face to the breeze, and the scent of lilacs in the air. Jessa’s right hand smoothed absently against the wide silver cuff upon her left wrist, tracing the pattern upon the bracelet.

  I saw a girl in a garden with a panther.

  Darry gasped for air in shock and opened her eyes.

  “Darrius!”

  Darry turned her face and felt the earth against her cheek as she did so. She opened her hands in the dirt and pushed up, rising away from the ground and dropping back upon her heels. Tannen Ahru went to her knees before her and took hold of Darry’s shoulders. Tannen’s face was streaked with tears, her eyes almost unbearably dark with emotion.

  “What happened?” Darry’s words barely come out. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the dread she suddenly felt brought an unfamiliar tremble to her body. “We have to go back…” Her voice sounded terribly small beneath the weight of her fear. It was not something she was used to and it shook her to her bones.

  Tannen shook her head, her hands lifting and holding Darry’s face. “No.”

  Darry’s eyes burned. “Yes, Tannen, please!” She grabbed Tannen’s shirtfront and pulled in a violent manner, a burst of panic turning her thoughts. “We…we can, you and I together…”

  “We can do nothing, don’t you see?” Tannen said in a pained voice and pulled Darry into her arms. Tannen held her tightly. “That is my story, Darrius, not yours,” Tannen whispered beside her ear. Darry’s forehead slipped and pressed against Tannen’s chest. “Though you have soothed my heart.”

  Darry sucked in her emotions and tried to shove them down. They were long dead, all of them, and she was but a ghost. She had no sword, and worse yet, she had no hand to hold it with.

  “I did not mean to cry, I’m sorry,” Tannen offered. “I’ve not been back to that day, not ever. But there were things you needed to see. Forgive me, little one, please.”

  Darry tried to put her thoughts into order, but it was all too much. She felt terribly small and defeated, and completely, utterly alone. She had reached out for Sorrow because Tannen had told her to, and she had listened because she had everything in the world to lose. Everything, and Tannen had nothing. Though it had not always been so, and it would not be that way forever. She closed her eyes even more tightly. “My head hurts,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Tannen agreed in a soothing voice. “I know it does.”

  Darry wanted nothing more than to feel Jessa’s lips against hers, and to feel the strength of her arms holding her safe as she fell asleep. To feel the caress of your majik shudder through my muscles, sweet Jess. To hear you sing, as you braid my hair, and the way you touch my face…To hear you laugh into your pillow. “I want to go home,” Darry said in a strained voice. “I need to go home, Tannen, please. I’m so sorry, but I need time to think, please.”

  “Yes, you must go now, my daughter. You must go before it’s too late.” Tannen’s face was warm against Darry’s as she kissed her. “Come now, on our feet.”

  Darry wasn’t sure how she got there, but she was standing on her feet as Tannen held her shoulders.

  “I will tell my Akasha of the child who came to me, because she kept her promises. Which means all that you will need should already be yours, Darrius.” Her voice was filled with love. She sounded remarkably like Adal de Hinsa, and Darry’s heart twisted with sorrow. “And we shall wonder upon your adventures, when the wind blows cold beyond our door. She has been waiting for me, for a very long time”—Tannen smiled—“in the great grass and blue waters of the Riverlands beyond…with my Hashiki.”

  Darry stepped back, and she felt afraid of what was yet to come.

  “Release your majik, Darrius,” Tannen told her. “All of it, every last drop you have in you, and let it rise to meet your Cha-Diah blood. Hold nothing back and embrace who you are. That is the final bonding. Do not fight against it, any of it. It was those who fought against their own truth that did not survive. Those who embrace their gifts, their loves and their sorrows alike, they are the ones who prevail. Be true to yourself, my daughter. You will know what to do after that.”

  Darry looked at her then, and took her in, all of her. The lean, tall strength of her, and the heaviness of her beautiful hair. Her darkly tanned skin and the white of her scar against her amber and brown eyes. Her simple homespun clothes, and the stitching about her collar, much like the one Tannen had worn as a child. Tannen Ahru, standing before her and looking at her with love. She tried to say the words but she couldn’t.

  Tannen grinned at her. “You’re welcome.”

  Darry took another step back and then stopped, looking over her shoulder. She began to smile as the edge of Tannen’s mountain dropped away from her into nothing but sky. “I’m going to have to climb this bloody rock again, I just know it.”

  Tannen chuckled happily and set a strong hand upon Darry’s left shoulder. “Remember your blood, Darrius, and you shall find your way home. Let them know who you are and why you are there. You are the child of many mothers. You stand for us all.”

  “Hinsa and I…if they are out there, Tannen Ahru, we will find them,” Darry promised.

  Tannen nodded. “I know.”

  Darry felt Tannen’s hand tighten in her tunic and her heart leaped with a jolt of renewed fear. She had absolutely no idea what to expect. “Will I see you again?”

  “I love you,” Tannen whispered, and then smiled sweetly. “Little one.”

  Darry felt the push against her shoulder and she fell.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Bentley moved through the thick of the trees in silence, Arkady some twenty yards ahead of him, and Matthias ten yards beyond that. They had long ago scouted the heavy stretch of trees, both for game trails and to familiarize themselves with the lands surrounding their new home. The brush from fallen trees moved naturally to the bottom of the rise when it rained, and a steady wash of debris cluttered the ground the lower you went. The road to Ballentrae moved through the narrow valley below, and though it was wide enough for most, it had not been forged from the surrounding hills with a large force in mind. Upon the opposite side of the road the rise was not so pronounced, though the trees were thicker and the grass had grown high.

  Malcolm’s soldiers were camped for the night, and their guards were stationed at regular intervals along the caravan, light in number, thoug
h suitable for their circumstances. The wagons were held in the rear, and there were four of them, their supplies full, but not so full as to be a burden. Their horses were picketed along the western edge within the grass, and there were five fires that burned along the length of the column. Bentley could smell the food they had eaten for dinner an hour before, and he could smell the blackgrass tobacco being smoked. Voices could be heard when the breeze moved through the trees, and Bentley understood the relief and contentment they were feeling. Their bellies were finally full and their pipes were lit. Their platoon had ridden nearly forty miles from Ballentrae, and it was a hard pace over some very steep and hilly terrain.

  They were two days past Ballentrae, and a day and half’s ride from Lanark, though riding hard would cut that in half. And though the caravan stank of sweat and unwashed men, Bentley knew they were fully capable of such a push no matter how tired they were. The soldiers and free riders in Mason Jefs command were hard men and extremely good at what they did.

  Bentley crouched behind an oak and narrowed his eyes along the game trail, and though his eyes were adjusted to the darkness, the inky black was formidable. A brief line of blue sparks appeared against the surface of the trail from Arkady’s position, and then died just as quickly in the dirt. A moment later, an identical signal from a greater distance.

  Bentley returned his attention to the caravan below and rose along the oak, pulling the string upon his bow, his arrow nocked and ready to fly as he picked his target.

  Matty the Younger was down there, somewhere, and should he be discovered, he would have a narrow escape at best, if he had one at all. The picket had been set a quarter league farther up the road, but the rear of the caravan had been left with but a light guard. Bentley had counted seventy-five men in total, which included their support staff, all of whom would fight when the time came.

  Seventy-five men against a dozen.

  And a Priestess of the Vhaelin whom none of them would expect, along with the golden mountain panther who refused to leave her side.