His strong voice carried to everyone. “Tonight we celebrate our sons and daughters. We have few young bonding today, but we honor them and ask Beloved to welcome them as warriors and suns. My life is yours.” He floated like a shadow through the grass to the side of the meadow.
When her parents turned to her, Famere opened her leather life-pouch and withdrew stone tester. Hesitating, she dropped the necklace over her head. When the warm stone nestled against her chest, a shudder swept through her. Certain that her nervousness caused the tremor, she waited for what was coming.
Ison gaped, his voice harsh. “The next guide should wear that, not a sun.”
Ready to give the stone to him, Famere glanced at her parents for approval, but Mereeth gave a slight twitch of her head.
Darkas rested a palm on Ison’s shoulder. “Your sun will wear it, Ison. But the honor is also yours.”
Ison’s face remained strained, but he nodded. “All right.”
Famere cringed when murmurs spread along the meadow. To wear something unique claimed your importance over others. Only the wyshea guide was allowed a difference with grayblade. The dagger was the one sign of rank their people respected, and it had passed from guide to guide, father to son, for longer than anyone could remember. Darkas was the first guide in wyshea history without a son, and he planned to give grayblade to Ison.
When the murmurs continued, Mereeth stroked Famere’s arm, and then walked to the center of the meadow with Mir at her side. Her clear words carried across the grass. “My people, I asked my daughter to wear stone tester to give us hope. I believe the goddess desires this too. It doesn’t matter if an aging fighter or a bonding sun wears it, what matters is what our hearts do with it. Now, it’s time.” She returned dreamlike through the grass.
Darkas gave Mereeth a small smile. “Am I the aging fighter?”
“Never, my love.” Mereeth smiled and kissed the side of his face.
Famere watched her parents, hoping Ison and she would have that same strength of love after bonding.
Ison softly touched her cheek with his fingertips. “I look forward to your pledge, my love.”
Famere’s pulse quickened with his words. As he walked into the meadow with the others, something shifted inside her, more of her resistance crumbling. Maybe it was her rightful place to stand at his side as seer, and her thoughts of adventure just childish dreams.
A light shove on her back started her feet. Song’s words followed her. “Go, Fam, before you miss it.”
She stumbled out of the trees, past her smiling parents, and then steadied herself. Smooth grasses caressed her legs as she cautiously moved into the field. Flowers, seeds, roots, the soil, burrowing and scurrying brethren, and everything alive and dead underfoot gave off the rich scent of life.
Ahead, Bosho and Yameen grinned at her. Two dozen youths formed a line down the middle of the meadow, and Famere found herself drawn to its center with Ison.
She finally spotted Goflin at the far end of the line, his body oiled and his hair braided. He flashed a warm smile at her and she lifted a hand, happy he was here and no longer upset with her. His bearing seemed different too, confident, his shoulders held back. It made her see him differently and her gaze lingered on his until he faced the forest.
Flickers of movement filled the far woods. The wolves usually chose the next guide-in-training first, then the rest of the males, and the suns last. Famere wanted Ison chosen first. He deserved it. A strong urge to pledge to him, to be his future life-mate, pushed her remaining doubts away.
More wolf-brethren moved among the trees, their fur-scent seeping into the meadow, while the bonded wolves behind Famere barked excitedly. Darkness crept closer, and one she-wolf trotted from the trees directly to Ison, stopping in front of him.
Pulling back its lips, the wolf gently clasped Ison’s forearm with gleaming fangs and drew a shallow wound. The sickly sweet scent of blood drifted to Famere.
Smiling, Ison dropped to one knee and threw his arms around the neck of the wolf. For the first time in five years, Famere saw genuine happiness light up his face. After his parents had died he had remained serious, and it warmed her to see him smile freely.
He stood, resting a hand on his she-wolf.
Famere reached a hand to him, and he stepped closer, his arm sliding around her waist as he kissed her.
“Do you still have doubts?” he whispered.
Her heart pounding, she shook her head. “No.”
“Hurry, my love.” Smiling, he left.
Facing across the meadow, the desire to bond pushed aside all of Famere's concerns and she now longed for a wolf to choose her.
More wolves trotted out, stopping in the grass and inspecting them as if they could see into their hearts and minds. Famere’s toes dug into the earth, her hands grasping the soft grasses near her thighs.
A male wolf trotted to Goflin next, taking his arm in its jaws. It was a sign of importance to bond second after the next wyshea guide. Famere was happy for him.
Kneeling, Goflin slid his arms around the wolf’s neck. Famere smiled at him, and he grinned at her before walking off the field.
Wolves continued to enter the grass, but Famere was surprised when her friend Yameen was selected third, and then all the other suns until they were all bonded. After the suns left the meadow, Famere waited with the rest of the males, but no more wolves came out.
All wyshea youths always bonded, so it confused her. The remaining males had equally bewildered expressions. Carefully she searched for movement in the trees.
Murmurs flared up behind her. Her ears burned. What if she didn’t bond? Would Ison still pledge to her? What would Dar think?
One by one the males left the meadow, walking slowly, their heads bowed. Bosho left last, standing erect, his eyes serene.
Famere stood alone.
“Fam.”
Mereeth was close by, but Famere didn’t turn. She listened to moles burrowing across the meadow and she wanted to hide too. How could she face Darkas? His daughter, the next seer, had been rejected at the bonding ceremony.
Flickers made her peer again into the trees in front of her. Behind her, the bonded wolves erupted into running and frenzied leaping, while ahead of her streams of mril flew near the edge of the meadow, creating a dance of light. The sahr melody increased, nearly overpowering her senses.
An eerie growl erupted from the trees across from her.
Sounding unlike any animal Famere had ever heard, it sent chills along her spine. She took a step back. “Dar.”
Darkas drew grayblade: thousands of daggers slid from sheaths and thrips uncoiled.
Two dark, massive shapes loomed near the edge of the woods, taller than Famere and many times the size of the wolf-brethren.
In the last bit of light they trotted toward her, with silent heartbeats, their scent blending with the meadow, their movements dreamlike. Famere waited for her father to attack, because the two onyx creatures floating toward her on four legs, moving over the ground as if on wings, were foreign to their forest.
Black as night and silver-backed, the creatures had massive shoulders and haunches, sharp large ears, and glowing eyes. A wild mane of silvery hair surrounded their necks, chests, and front legs, and four large fangs pushed past the sides of their massive wrinkled snouts, giving them a brutal, ferocious appearance.
Mereeth whispered, “They’ve returned.”
Famere recognized them as the dark shapes she had glimpsed in the morning, which had saved her from the raacor, their faces identical to the image carved into the cliff above their caves.
Shadows.
Famere's fears eased when the creatures stopped in front of her, staring down at her. Their large square muzzles lowered and the heat and scent of their sweet breath filled her nostrils. She lost awareness of everything else as she gaped at them.
The creatures paused, as if waiting for something. It confused Famere, but in a few moments she understood. They weren’t j
ust bonding to her for life. They were going to be her life. Wolves followed their wyshea bonds, but this would be different. Whatever the shadows brought to her, and wherever they took her, she had to agree to it now.
Swallowing, she whispered, “Yes.”
Bending, their fangs slid along her forearms, brushing her skin. Their mouths could snap her arms and legs like twigs, but Famere didn’t feel any pain as their fangs sank into her flesh.
Two voices entered her mind as they pierced her; “Shir,” and “Lor.” Male and female. Shir was slightly taller than Lor, and Lor had more black on her muzzle. Famere had never felt so safe in all her life.
Giving brief growls, the two beasts sat on their haunches, their long tails curled around their back legs, their clawed paws as large as her head. Dark, glistening trickles rolled down Famere’s forearms, forming red droplets at her fingertips that fell into the soft grass, leaving the scent of blood in the air.
In a daze, she turned. Her people drifted out of the woods, holding their weapons. Wide-eyed like the others, Goflin looked at her from the edge of the meadow. But much as she tried, Famere couldn’t find Ison.
Thunder boomed to the west. Blackened clouds on the horizon cracked, as if giant hands wedged them apart in some titanic struggle, and through the crack streamed brilliant rays of the setting sun, striking the meadow briefly and bathing everyone in silhouetted outlines.
It was why wyshea called their females suns, to give them the same high esteem given to the rare sky sun. To witness a sliver of blue or a small edge of the sun once in a lifetime was a rare blessing. Famere was astonished she had witnessed the sun’s light twice in one day. Again she yearned to see the hidden sun. Not wanting it to end, she waited for the whole sky to open.
But the clouds clapped together with reverberating thunder.
Disappointed, Famere lowered her gaze. The two shadows threw back their heads and gave eerie howls, sending shivers across her arms.
“I can’t imagine a greater blessing, Daughter.” Darkas stepped in front of her, smiling broadly as he held her. “I’m proud of you, Fam.”
She grinned over her father’s excitement.
Mereeth came into her arms with a warm embrace. “See, Fam? You’re our hope. No wyshea in our history has ever bonded with two shadows.” She stepped to the side to view them.
Famere searched across the meadow again, seeking her love, finally finding him standing alone in the grass, his eyes showing doubt for the first time since she had known him. She beamed at Ison until he raised his chin to her in acceptance. Her role finally felt right. As Ison’s life-mate she would be the next wyshea seer. And with the shadows she would find a way to end the war.
Darkas whirled, thrusting grayblade into the air. “After a hundred years the shadows have returned. My daughter, She of Two Shadows, brings us Beloved’s blessing!”
The shadows stood on either side of Famere, and she reached up to bury her hands in the thick, soft fur of their shoulders, knowing they would always be her refuge and strength.
Her people, always quiet like whispers of the wood, raised their voices in one shout so joyous, so strong, that her skin crawled.
After her people’s cry of renewed faith, Famere heard a thunderous pounding that snapped her senses alert. To the south, and practically upon them, thousands of the four-legged monsters called maqal trampled their meadow, all ridden by their most hated enemy, the slayers.
6
Slayers
At first, Famere couldn’t believe her eyes.
Wyshea could see a mouse scurry in the distance, smell a hare in a glen, and hear a beetle beneath the bark of a tree, yet none of her people had noticed the large, noisy maqal stomping through the grass until now. Impossible. Her mouth dry, she drew her dagger and unwound her thrip.
A little taller than the shadows, the maqal had hooves with sharp spurs, and two spiral, two-foot horns jutted out from their foreheads. Their slayer riders looked clumsy in their movements. Famere found it hard to believe they had won any battles against wyshea.
Some slayers had sickly white skin, others ebony. All of them were taller than wyshea, and wore boots, brown tunics, and trousers glistening with dried norre sap. Some carried oval shields of norre wood painted red and black, and every rider held an atlatl, bow, or long blade.
Fangors loped alongside the maqal. Howling, the beasts veered toward the snarling wolves racing toward them from the edge of the meadow. The leading slayers were already lifting their blades to swing at them.
Darkas shouted, “Watch our backs, Fam.” He jumped in front of her, holding grayblade. “Mereeth.”
Mereeth drew her knife, tossed it to him, and then took his thrip and unwound hers. Her taut body glistened as she flicked out both thrips, floating them waist high. Famere had never heard of any wyshea warrior capable of floating two thrips.
Confused about what to do, she looked for Ison, but the charging maqal already blocked her view of the area where he had stood moments ago.
“Ison!” she cried. There was no response and her stomach sank. She feared he had been run over and killed.
Shir and Lor growled beside her, tensing her limbs, their low rumbles quickly becoming eerie cries. Leaping, the shadows flew over Famere’s parents toward the first two maqal, their jaws reaching for the slayer riders. The maqal screeched and reared, their legs buckling under the weight of the shadows, while their bloodied riders tumbled lifeless to the ground.
Slamming into the two rearing maqal, the main body of the enemy was forced to the sides of Mereeth and Darkas. Shir and Lor attacked other mounts, and Drur and Mir ran at fangors, snapping necks and legs. Remaining near her parents, Famere stared helplessly at the maqal thundering past as their riders glared at her.
Mereeth flicked a thrip into a rider, knocking him sideways, and Darkas swung grayblade. The silver and black blade remained hidden among the colors around it, a faint blur as it sliced into the slayer who died without seeing it.
Famere stumbled out of the way of a riderless maqal, hearing Darkas click orders to wyshea warriors racing toward the center of the meadow. Suns were fleeing with the young into the forest, and Famere wanted to escape with them. Wyshea suns never fought in battle, but she saw no path of escape through the thick streams of maqal thundering past her on either side.
Screams and pounding hooves startled her as wheeling maqal separated her from her parents. Hooves flailed above her head, and she jumped back from a maqal, flicking her thrip at the beast’s thick neck.
Rearing again, the maqal’s spurs struck at Famere a second time. Rolling away, she rose and snapped her thrip into the maqal’s flank. The mount screeched and bolted, its rider falling off. By the time the enemy thumped into the ground, Famere stood over him, his white skin and unusual clothing seeming odd to her.
The slayer kicked at her leg and she jumped back.
Rising to his knees, the enemy swung his long metal blade at her head.
Dropping to her knees, she ducked beneath the weapon and scored his blade arm with her stone knife.
Crying out, he dropped his weapon, but with his other hand he drove a metal dagger at her stomach. Blocking it with her thrip hand, Famere plunged her knife into the slayer’s unprotected neck with a sickening thud. He fell over.
Famere pulled her dagger free, wanting the slayer to open his eyes and move his limbs. As she stood, the scent of blood surrounded her. Sick to her stomach, she gagged.
In the next instant, two beasts squeezed her shoulders from opposite sides. Gasping, she couldn’t move. On one side, a monstrous slayer with a scarred cheek and jutting jaw glared down at her from a massive black maqal. The slayer had clipped hair, wore a gold short coat, and his heart beat like a drum. But his sweat-covered body betrayed no fear and his eyes told her he wanted to kill her.
Famere raised her dagger to block his swinging blade. Metal rang on stone and her knees buckled with the blow. The slayer raised his blade again. She didn’t have the st
rength to block it a second time.
“Fam!”
She recognized Goflin’s voice and she squirmed helplessly to break free of the two maqal.
Goflin’s thrip struck the flank of the shrieking mount bearing the gold-coated slayer, and Shir leapt at the rider of the other mount. As quickly as they had come together, the two maqal wheeled apart and the gold-coated slayer fled.
Slumping, Famere grasped Goflin’s arm when he jumped beside her, weapons in hand. His taut face and steady eyes freed her for a moment from the surrounding violence. Her chest wound burned from her exertions and she felt nauseous.
She gathered herself and shouted, “Have you seen Ison?”
“No, Fam.”
Remembering her vision, she wanted to be with her parents. Staggering forward, with Goflin beside her, she swung her gaze through the confusion of bodies. A maqal impaled a wyshea fighter from behind, fangors swarmed another wyshea warrior, and a wyshea warrior threw a singing dagger into a slayer, toppling him from his mount. The chaos of battle made Famere want to run. She glimpsed Bosho and Yameen facing a fangor, but maqal quickly hid them.
Another maqal charged her and she jumped away from Goflin’s side. One of the maqal’s horns grazed her shoulder, drawing blood, and she fell to her knees, bracing herself with her hands in the grass.
Goflin swung his thrip at the rider, forcing the slayer to flee from her, while Shir and Lor roared and raced to her side, frightening other maqal away.
A wall of maqal broke apart in front of Famere, revealing Darkas. Her mother’s blurring thrips toppled slayers and grayblade finished the wounded. Mereeth’s wolf-bond jumped at a slayer, but a maqal impaled it, throwing the wolf to the side where it was immediately trampled by another mount.
“Mir!” cried Mereeth.
Famere winced at hearing her mother’s pain. Pushing to her feet, movement drew her attention a dozen paces west. Two slayers had their arms cocked, holding four-foot wood darts on top of two-foot-long thin pieces of wood. Atlatls. Gripping the atlatls, the slayers threw the darts.
Wyshea Shadows Page 6
