Sisters of Syr (The Moon People, Book Four)
Page 14
Leaving the other two women to their thoughts, she stacked the rest of the hollow's firewood around the infant flame and let it take light. Then she collected a handful of twine and other healing supplies and shuffled over to Vaya. The huntress made a show of trying to back away, but she was too weary to abandon the fire's warmth.
“Let me fix your binding,” Netya said.
Glowering at her, Vaya made no effort to offer up her injured arm for Netya's attention. As stiff and stubborn as a child, she kept it tucked close to her side as Netya awkwardly cut away the torn bindings and made fresh ones. Despite her patient's lack of compliance she did the best she could to ensure that Vaya's arm was immobile and supported with a fresh loop of twine. She received no thanks for her efforts.
Once the fire was burning bright Netya rose to her feet and peered outside. Vaya had stopped shivering, but the rain was still coming down hard and heavy. The nighttime wind had grown even colder, threatening to turn into an icy sleet.
“You should leave before dawn,” she said at last, “but rest here until you are ready. I'll find you some cloaks for the walk back. I can fetch your bow as well, Kiren.”
Still she received no response. With one last troubled look at her apprentice, she ducked out of the nook and hurried back to the den. Fern took some convincing, but Netya eventually persuaded her friend to help find a pair of heavy cloaks and bring them back to the hollow.
By the time they returned the fire had burned down to embers, and the nook was empty.
With a heavy heart Netya gazed west into the rustling forest. Whether it aligned with Adel's plans or not, she still had a duty to her apprentice. She only hoped that there was enough trust left in Kiren's heart to give her one more chance.
—14—
Alpha Orec
Three days had passed since the Rainfall Hunt. Long enough for the den mother's temper to cool, Orec judged, though perhaps temper was the wrong word to describe it. Adel did strange things that went beyond the angry impulses of other leaders. Things that a man of the mortal world like himself could never understand. Yet a woman still lingered behind the witch, and the woman he could deal with.
Caspian, always an invaluable aid in judging the den mother's moods, had offered to come with him, but Orec had respectfully declined. In truth, he enjoyed his private conversations with the den mother. Even when they were tinged with animosity, as this one surely would be, it was always a unique experience to be in Adel's presence.
He burrowed restless fingers through his beard as his moccasins squished up the muddy valleyside. His pack had not been the same since the night of the hunt. Vaya was the rightful victor, they all knew it. Even those who disliked her—and there were many—had been invigorated by the emergence of a worthy rival against whom they might test their strength in the seasons to come.
Warriors respected strength and tradition. Defiance of those simple truths was confusing to them at best. Angering at worst.
All of them revered the witches, for they would not have pledged their loyalty to Adel otherwise, but Orec had sensed a worrying shift in his pack's mood following Adel's interference. There was talk of dark omens. If the den mother herself did not respect the hunt, was it wrong to continue with the tradition? Perhaps the spirits desired the bloodshed of warrior challenges instead. If the den mother could withhold her coveted blessing this time, would she withhold it again?
The prestige of the Rainfall Hunt and every hunt thereafter had diminished as a result. After all the time Orec and Caspian had spent curbing the violent urges of their warrior clan, it seemed that this one act by Adel threatened to undermine years of progress. Even as Alpha, there was only so much he could do. His people needed the reassurance of the witches they served.
As he climbed up to the ledge outside the den mother's sanctuary—an isolated and precipitous spot that overlooked the seers' cave below—he caught sight of Sister Netya passing by on the opposite side. With a smile of relief, he beckoned her over. The pair of them had always been on good terms. She was, as he recalled, the first member of the witch clan he had ever met, back on an ill-fated hunt that had run afoul of the Sun People.
“Will you tell the den mother I have arrived?” he asked. “I know not to enter a seer's cave uninvited.”
“Of course, Alpha.” She stood for a moment, a hesitant question on her lips.
“Your apprentice is well. Upset, of course, but young Pera has taken her under his wing. Him and Kale seem to be friends of hers.”
Sister Netya's features softened with relief. “And Vaya?”
“No trouble from her. You would not think she slew a bear just three days ago. The only soul she seems interested in celebrating her victory with is that wolf pup of hers.”
“Will you tell Kiren I shall come to see her soon? I wanted to give her a few days by herself.”
Orec nodded. “Of course.”
With a smile of thanks Netya disappeared into Adel's cave. The last of the daylight began to diminish as Orec waited, bringing with it one final spatter of drizzle.
“You can go in,” Netya said when she emerged. “Hopefully she has more to say to you than she does to me.”
“Unrest in your clan, too?”
Netya sighed. “Just between me and her.”
Unwilling to pry into the witches' troubles, Orec bowed his head in respect, then ducked beneath the leather drapes. According to the tales the other seers told, Adel had decorated her den with the pelts of animals back when she had served Alpha Khelt's clan. Over the past several years she had been recreating that sanctuary, making effigies of pelts and skins that now covered every part of her new cave. It fascinated Orec how she was able to capture the fierceness of a living wolf by stuffing a pelt with crafting refuse and stretching it over a frame of sticks, filling the eyes with chunks of obsidian glass that caught the light and danced as if they were alive. The alpha ran his hand over one of Adel's creations, admiring the new wall paintings and totems that had appeared since his last visit. Pale flames danced in the den mother's hearth, illuminating a shallow clay bowl that was catching drips of water from one of the natural smoke holes above. A snow white hand reached out of the darkness and handed the bowl to Orec, then replaced it with a new one.
“Empty this outside when you leave,” Adel said.
“Am I your pup for errands now, great sorceress?” Orec replied with a smile.
“You are the one who is here, and you are already wet from the rain.”
“Firm and fair as always. I cannot argue with that.” Orec set the bowl down on a flat rock near the cave's entrance so that he would not forget it.
“Will you sit?”
Orec shook his head. “I've wet your cave floor enough already.” He looked apologetically to the bottom of his dripping cloak.
“Then I shall stand. What have you come to ask of me, Alpha?” Adel emerged from the shadows, as starkly beautiful as ever. She had not painted her eyes with their usual charcoal that day. No need to intimidate her pack when she planned on staying in her cave.
“It is nice to see your true face for once,” he said, relaxing his posture slightly.
Adel tightened her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes at him. She seemed weary. A moment later the stern expression fell.
“You must have days when you wish to forget you are Alpha too.”
Orec chuckled. “Of course. Perhaps we can forget who we are together?”
The corner of Adel's mouth twitched upward, as if in recollection of some fond memory that she did not quite recall. “But you are not here to coax me into frivolous talk.”
He gave her a reluctant nod. “It is a long way to come unless I have an alpha's troubles to attend to. The Rainfall Hunt.”
“I disregarded your tradition. I am sorry.”
“A young tradition, but one I hoped to make old in time. The Rainfall Hunt may not last long without the den mother's blessing. Even now my people are whispering and bickering over what happened.”<
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“If I named you a new victor, would that settle the disquiet?”
Orec shrugged. “If you named Vaya it would.”
“I cannot do that. She is not one of your clan.” Adel frowned and looked away. “Perhaps I was wrong in keeping her here. That one is proving more trouble than she is worth.”
“Right or wrong, you did make her part of my clan. You told me to treat her as one of my own.”
The den mother turned her gaze back upon him. “When did I say that?”
After a tender pause Orec said, “Well, you didn't say I should not treat her as one of us.”
“Must I be everyone's mother, always stitching our broken packs back together? By the spirits, the larger a clan gets the more fools it invites.”
“Forgive me, great sorceress.” Orec humoured her with a bow. “For you I shall always strive to be less of a fool.”
Adel glowered at him a moment longer before letting out a huff.
“You are no fool, Orec. I am ever thankful for your warriors and the protection they afford us.”
“As am I for your seers and their many blessings. But warrior and seer must work together in harmony if our two packs are to thrive.” He gave her another smile. “Man and woman, also.”
“I will not name Vaya your victor,” Adel said, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “I cannot answer this problem now. These past few days have tired me. Speak to Caspian. He is never short of ideas.”
“I have, but he cannot reassure my people the way the den mother can.” Orec took a step forward, reaching out to take Adel's hands. To his relief, she let him.
Dropping his alpha's pride and disarming her with a little humour always helped the den mother to open up. It was rare, but every time it happened he felt he was getting a little closer to the woman inside. They were friends in these moments. Man and woman, just as he had said. And perhaps, some day, they would be something more.
“I meant what I said about forgetting ourselves, Adel. If you are ever weary, or distraught, or lost as I sometimes am, you know there is at least one soul who can—” He paused and huffed in amusement. “Well, perhaps I can never truly understand the troubles of a spirit-talker. But I understand what it is like to carry a pack's burdens upon my shoulders.”
Adel smiled faintly. “You have always been easy to talk with, Orec. When you first came here I feared you would be no different from any other alpha I have known.”
“I was not an alpha back then. Perhaps I learned from the mistakes of my brother.”
“Yet it cannot have been easy for you to let go of our people's old ways. Not many men would bow to a woman.”
“I honour the spirits and those who follow them.” Orec took a step closer, lifting Adel's hands to his chest. Her fingers twitched a little tighter. He could sense an echo of his own long-suppressed weariness inside her too. A loneliness. A need. Perhaps that was why he had always been able to speak with her so freely. When he felt her palms resting upon his tunic without resistance, he dared to hope. “There is one pack tradition I remember,” he said softly. “An alpha always was supposed to be his den mother's mate, was he not?”
Adel's brow furrowed, the tiredness in her expression tinged with pain.
“I ask nothing of you, Adel, but know that I am here.”
She let go of him suddenly.
“You ask without saying. I am not yours to claim!”
“I know I could never claim you even if I wanted—”
“Leave me!” Adel jutted a finger toward the exit, all ice and fire. “I will think of a way to solve your clan's problems by myself! Come back only when I summon you.”
Orec straightened up, searching Adel's face for any lingering hope of the intimacy they had shared. When he found nothing, he hung his head and bowed.
Am I the fool, or is she?
Knowing that no amount of humour would melt the den mother's ice this time, he turned around and picked up the bowl of rainwater. When he stepped back out into the drizzle, dusk was sweeping in to claim the valley. The alpha tossed the contents of the bowl out across the ledge and slid it back beneath the drapes.
“I heard her yell,” Netya's voice crept over from the other side of the entrance.
Orec ran a hand across his face and joined her, offering up the shelter of his cloak. Draping both his hand and the heavy fur around her shoulder, he started up the path that led to Netya's cave.
“Tell me, Sister, why is that woman so difficult? I feel like I am just about to reach her, and then she strikes me loose like a bad flake of flint.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Something has wounded her. I have seen it many times before in people like Adel. But what? I think it would take a spirit-talker like you to know.”
“If the spirits know they have not shared it with me. Not all of it, anyway. Adel's strength has carried her this far, yet it makes her hard and ruthless. She was like this before, you know, back when I first met her. I thought I had helped soften her soul since then, but leading this pack is difficult. She has little patience to sit and teach me of the world any more.” Netya smiled. “I miss her shouting at me every time I make a mistake with my herbs. Now she expects me to learn by myself.”
“I suppose every apprentice must in the end,” Orec said, pausing to think for a moment. “She would have time to sit with you again if only she allowed herself. I have done the same, when my mind becomes troubled with dark or sorrowful thoughts. I craft, I hunt, I help my clan with tasks no alpha should rightfully busy himself with. It is better than letting those dark spirits into my soul.”
They walked on in silence for a while before Netya responded.
“Do you think a person can embrace love again, even after it has been lost?”
Orec's smile was warm, but the corners of his eyes creased with well-worn sorrow.
“Let me answer you with a tale. When I was a young man, barely of age still, I felt the fiercest love I have ever known. She was a craftswoman. Not much older than me, yet still talented enough to have outpaced her own mentor. She would insist on mending my clothing whenever it was torn. Told me not to take it off while she sewed. Said she wanted to make sure it still fit right.” His smile became a grin at the memory. How fond a memory it was. “It took me two full seasons before I realised she just wanted an excuse to put her hands on me.”
“Not many men would have had such restraint,” Netya said.
“Ah, well, she was destined to be more than just a friend in the furs. It felt different, even from the start. She was a piece of me that made my weakness into strength, who listened when others would laugh. My brother said I was being foolish, that I should not rush to mate the first pretty girl who caught my eye. But even after all these years, I still know I was right. She was my love, and I hers. The spirits knew it, too, for they blessed her with a child the first season we were together. Not such a rare thing to happen among your kind, I know, but for the Moon People it is a sign from Mother Syr herself.”
Netya nodded. “I know very well. What happened?”
“We were mated that summer. The joy I felt in those days—have you ever had the feeling that sleep is no longer a relief from the day's weariness, but a chore to keep you away from its delights? I envied no one back then, not even the moon and stars.” Orec shrugged, as if this next part of his story was no more tragic than the rest. “A few weeks later our child came, and his birth claimed my mate's life.”
Netya squeezed his arm. “Even Mother Syr's kindness can be a trick sometimes.”
“That it can. I buried my grief in raising our boy, but he was sickly for many seasons. I lost count of time back then, but I think it was four, maybe five years before the spirits came for him too.”
Netya nodded in understanding. Orec was glad that she did not offer any unnecessary condolences. She seemed to understand that such things were long in the past. Perhaps she had faced similar losses of her own.
“Is that why you left your clan to serve Adel?”
“I hope you find it some day, Orec,” Netya said, coming to a stop as they approached the path to her cave. She looked aside a little sheepishly. “Forgive me, but I have noticed you always have the same smile when you come to see Adel.”
He laughed. “I'd keep that a secret from my warriors, but not from you. I wonder if even the spirits know what lies in that woman's heart.”
“I wonder the same. Caspian felt something for her once, a long time ago. He thinks that she is too complicated a woman for anyone to love.”
“Once they see past her beauty, perhaps.” Orec rubbed his chin. “Don't think me a romantic fool yearning after her, Netya. I know it may never be, but I am fond of her. There is a tender woman somewhere in that witch.” He lifted his cloak from Netya's shoulders so that she could go on her way, but the seer lingered a moment longer. When she said nothing he gave her a nudge. “What is it?”
“Promise me you will speak of this to no one. She would be very angry if word of it got back to her.”
Orec nodded. “Of course.”
“Adel seldom speaks of her past, but I know she loved someone once. She must have been very young, like you were.”
The alpha gave a murmur of understanding. It was no great surprise to hear something of this sort.
“And she has never been with a man since?”
Netya shook her head. “I do not know what happened to him, but listening to your story... What if she was never able to let go the way you did?”
“Then she must be strong as a demon to accomplish all she has while carrying that burden. A woman of great destiny indeed.” Orec folded his arms, wondering if there was any more to tell, but Netya seemed lost in thought. She was like her mate Caspian in that way, drawing back into herself when she needed to wrestle with problems too complex to shape into words. If there was an answer to the riddle that was Den Mother Adel, Netya was more likely to find it than him.