Wyshea Shadows

by Geoffrey Saign

  Guilt numbed Famere. If true, it meant the slayers had tried to kill her, and instead her father had died protecting her. A ragged breath escaped her lips. “The Prophetess said she has suffered many years because she helped me. Who would punish her for this?” She remembered Harken taking Ison, and answered her own question. “The power mageen.”

  “Possibly.” Mereeth slid her hand into Famere’s. “But why did she help you?”

  “Because I’m She of Two Shadows.”

  “And if you’re just going to lead the wyshea to victory over the other races, why did the Prophetess, a slayer, risk so much for you?”

  “Maybe she wanted to help the wyshea. Perhaps some slayers are good.” Surprised by her admission, Famere asked, “Does it mean I should lead our people into a peace that will destroy us later? Just because the Prophetess demands it?”

  “Do what feels right, Fam, and whatever it is, I’ll still love you.” She kissed her cheek. “Blessings, daughter.” Rising, Mereeth drifted away into the woods.

  Famere dug her heels into the soil, bracing her back against the tree. Bleak images of battles, her bloodied dagger, and the faces of those she had killed swirled through her. All of it soured her stomach and she wanted it to end.

  Bosho had recognized the choice between peace and war much sooner, and she remembered asking Huro about peace efforts nine months ago, before her bonding ceremony.

  The image of the tortured Prophetess made her want to rip the flames from the slayer. Understanding part of stone tester’s origins, she guessed it had caused her visions and pain. But why? The Prophetess didn’t want to hurt her. Was the stone punishing her for her brutality and killing? She debated taking the amulet off, but she couldn’t bring herself to dishonor Darkas’ life-debt.

  Struggling to her knees, she grasped the necks of her two shadows and whispered, “I’ll try for peace, baethe-brue.”

  The shadows met her eyes with their shining orbs.

  “Yes.”

  The word surfaced in her mind, as their names had when she had bonded with them. Knowing Beloved spoke through the shadows, she could never turn back now. She waited for more, but the shadows were silent.

  A surge of energy swept through her, as it often did before battle. However, she recognized that pursuing peace would be far more dangerous than any fight of the past. She sagged against the tree, debating what she would tell the others.

  21

  Messenger

  Laflel slashed the air with a hand. “I warned you. Our messengers were tortured and killed. Now we have to fight.” His eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists.

  “Is this true?” Famere regarded Goflin, who had a red songbird on his shoulder.

  “The slayers tortured our messenger.” Goflin grimaced. “We heard him screaming through the night. In late morning we went to him, and suns tended his wounds and gave him medicine to dull his pain. Before he died we wished him a safe journey with Beloved to the sahr meadows.”

  Famere’s stomach wrenched over sending a warrior to such a death. Goflin showed revulsion too. He had selected the messengers from his trackers, all of whom were his baethe.

  Lowering her gaze to the grass where she sat, she felt the weight of another life-debt she would never be able to repay. The melody of sahr sang, birds warbled, and a light breeze blew through the forest in the late afternoon light, but none of it eased her heavy spirit.

  “The staves also tried to capture the messenger we sent to them, but he took his life with his own blade so they weren’t able to torture him.” Bosho hesitated. “It’s not your fault, Famere. It was worth a try.”

  “Butchers.” Famere swallowed at the irony of using that word.

  Huro bent forward, his narrow face taut. “They assume we’re setting a trap.”

  “Let’s kill all of them.” Laflel hit his knee with the side of his fist. “End it now.”

  Huro leaned sideways toward Laflel. “We could attack the slayers while they’re retreating.”

  “Yes.” Laflel’s eyes glinted. “They’re weakened. They won’t have the heart to fight and will run. We can slaughter them.” He gestured to Bosho. “Is the guard at full strength?”

  Bosho nodded slightly. “Almost. Shadows have come forth daily to bond."

  “I’ll go to the Coyote.” Famere took a deep breath. “Alone.”

  Everyone stared at her wide-eyed, except for Goflin, who remained calm.

  Laflel rocked back, his arms flying wide. “If you saw what they did to our messengers, and our suns in the past, you would never do it.”

  “It’s not wise, Famere.” Huro’s hand fluttered off his knee. “I commend your desire for peace, but they won’t listen to you.”

  “Not the Blind Fangor,” said Famere. “But the Coyote will, and she can influence other slayers and their allies.” However, she realized that if some slayers still wanted her dead, peace with all of their enemies might not be possible. Still, she had to try.

  “I owe the Coyote a life-debt, but even I wouldn’t advise it.” Bosho’s thick shoulders bunched. “You killed her father.”

  “If the Coyote was filled with hate, she would have killed you.” Famere shrugged. “Slayers killed our fathers, Bosho, yet we want peace. The Coyote might feel the same way.”

  “The shadows didn’t tell you to go alone, did they?” Bosho shook his head. “If you went to the Coyote with a show of force you would at least be safe. Then she would have more reason to listen to you.”

  Famere gave a wan smile. “You demanded a peace effort if our victory was decisive.”

  Bosho threw his hands up in a rare display, his voice agitated. “From a position of strength. Not one wyshea going alone to a slayer army.”

  “An army could be seen as a trap or trying to force them into peace. There’s no threat if it’s just me.” Famere saw Goflin staring at her steadily. Why wasn’t he objecting? She had expected his voice to be louder than any of them. “I won’t risk anyone else, Bosho, and I have the shadows and grayblade. They’ll never torture me.”

  Laflel waved a hand to include the forest around them. “You’re risking mrilwood.”

  “Our people will always hold this forest.” But she knew there were no guarantees.

  Huro spoke gently. “And what happens if you die?”

  “I won’t.” Her words were soft, without confidence. Worse, she had lived for nine months empty of joy and the small things which made living a treasure. Now more than ever she wanted to spend time with friends in mrilwood. Her gaze drifted again to Goflin, but he looked deep in thought.

  “Let some of the guard go with you.” Bosho placed a hand on her knee. “So you can escape if you need to.”

  “One rider can make the journey undetected. More will make it difficult.” She paused. “The Coyote showed mercy after a battle the slayers lost, so she won’t kill me if I ask her for peace.”

  “Our people will be confused with the risk you’re taking,” said Huro. “What if you don’t come back?”

  Famere forced herself to answer the question. “Bosho will be guide while I’m gone. His heart and mind are strong.”

  Laflel leaned forward and slammed his palms into the ground. “It’s final, then?”

  She gave a slight nod. “Yes.”

  “Then there’s nothing more to talk about.” Laflel stood, his wiry arms tense. “After our enemies kill you, I expect Bosho to have more sense.” He stalked off.

  Famere’s mouth turned dry as Laflel melted into the woods. How many of her people would respond as he did? “Huro?”

  He leaned toward her, his voice gentle. “I fear for you, but I give you my blessings.”

  She waited for Goflin to speak, and when he kept silent, she asked, “Goflin?”

  He sat back, his eyes steady. “It’s a bold move, Famere. But someone who has fought a raacor alone should be able to talk to a slayer leader. You have my blessings too.”

  He sounded sincere, without any reservations,
and it confused her. Why wasn’t he apprehensive about the risk she was going to take? Gazing at her lap, she spoke quietly. “The three of you have to explain this to our people. Laflel’s angry comments will confuse them.”

  “Let me go with you.” Bosho tapped her knee, the concern in his gaze obvious. “One fighter with you won’t risk the outcome.”

  “And one fighter won’t change the outcome. Besides, you have to stay here to guide the shadow guard. It’s our strongest weapon and you’re the only one I trust to lead it.”

  “Promise me you won’t die in slayer hands,” said Bosho.

  “I promise, Bosho.” Famere glanced at Goflin, but he looked elsewhere, as if he was preoccupied. She lowered her voice. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “So you’re going to try for peace, Famere.”

  Famere looked up sharply.

  Ison stood to the side, his gray robes rustling in the grass and his lips pursed on his handsome face. He casually walked around them.

  The three shadows rose effortlessly to their feet, along with Huro’s and Goflin’s wolves, their fangs bared.

  The shadows’ and wolves’ behavior surprised Famere. Not expecting to see Ison again, she wanted to leap up and embrace him, but his aloofness made her hesitate. He couldn’t have been listening long, unless he had hidden himself. She remembered long ago the whispers of air on her neck on her bonding day, and it made her wary. “It’s good to see you again, Ison.” When he didn’t reply, she said, “Yes, I’m pursuing peace.”

  Huro frowned, his hand sliding to his dagger. Bosho’s expression remained neutral, but his hand moved to his thrip, as did Goflin’s. The red songbird flew off Goflin’s shoulder.

  Ison studied them and gave a sharp shake of his head. Stopping near Famere, he leaned forward, clutching his robes. “You, Fam? The wyshea butcher? You’re going to ask slayers for peace?” He straightened. “If you knew your reputation, you would understand your enemies will kill you as soon as they see you.”

  Famere bit her lip, wondering if her plan was doomed. “I’ve decided.”

  Ison’s tone softened. “If I went, the slayers would listen. They don’t hate me like they hate you. I haven’t been involved in the wars, in the killing. And I can demonstrate my power, which will help persuade them to end the fighting.” He paused. “You would remain safe, Fam. No more of our warriors would have to die. Mrilwood would be safe.”

  His argument was reasonable, but it seemed like he was hiding something. She looked up at him. “At one time you wanted to destroy our enemies.”

  “I’ve learned wisdom with the Order.”

  “Why are you here?” Bosho slowly twisted his hair with his fingers. “You said you have no people.”

  “True.” Ison nodded. “But the Order is falling apart. Many mageen are tired of Harken’s command, and he’s had to bend some rules to maintain the loyalty of some of us. I’m allowed to live with my people, so long as I swear loyalty to Harken.”

  Huro’s hands clenched. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve come to claim my right to be the wyshea guide.” He looked at Famere. “We can still pledge, Fam.”

  Famere’s pulse quickened over the thought of pledging to him, and she saw vulnerability in his eyes. But giving up her role as guide kept her silent. She had to admit that Ison would have a better chance at convincing the slayers to pursue peace than she would. And as guide, shouldn’t she choose the best path for her people, even it meant stepping down? Conflicted, she remained quiet.

  “You still have a problem with your hearing, baethe.” Goflin’s voice was mild. “We already have a guide.”

  Ison glared at him, but Goflin didn’t look away. Ison looked at Bosho and Huro. “Darkas chose me to be the next guide.” He faced Famere. “It will honor your father’s decision if I’m guide, Fam. Would you consider stepping down?”

  She looked up at him. “Why do you want to be guide?”

  “It’s my right, and I want to help my people, Fam. Just as you do.”

  She looked into his eyes, sensing something else behind his words, making her cautious. “You’ve always wanted power,” she murmured.

  Ison stiffened. “How will going alone to the slayers help the wyshea? To take such a risk? Or are you doing this for selfish reasons?”

  She wavered. Shir and Lor watched her intently, and she recalled that the shadows had chosen her, and Beloved guided Shir and Lor. She was convinced of it. She trusted the goddess to guide her, but Ison no longer believed in Beloved. She glanced at her friends. They all had strained features. None of them wanted Ison as guide. He wouldn’t want any advisors and would tear the council apart.

  She spoke formally. “Thank you for your offer, Ison, but I’m the wyshea guide, and I’m going to the slayers alone. But you could still help our people.” More gently, she added, “And perhaps we could be together again...” Her voice trailed off in uncertainty.

  He stared at her for a few moments, his features taut. “You disappoint me, Fam. And I think your judgment is clouded. It makes me question whether you’re the best guide for our people.” Gathering his gray robes, he drifted away into the woods.

  Famere stared after him, his detachment and harshness leaving an empty pit in her stomach.

  “I don’t trust him,” said Bosho.

  “What are we going to do?” Huro gripped his knees. “He’s more powerful than any of us.”

  Famere said quietly, “Our people will listen to council members over a mageen. I’ll leave tonight, instead of tomorrow, but I don’t want anyone else to find out, including Laflel.”

  “I’ll talk to our people.” Huro pushed to his feet, resting a hand on her shoulder. “May the melody of sahr bring you peace, Famere.”

  “And you, Huro.”

  He left hurriedly with his wolf-bond.

  “I’ll do the same.” Goflin got up. “I wish you well on your journey, Fam.”

  “Blessings, Gof.” She wanted to say more, and to embrace him, but he left quickly with Gir. Disappointed, she watched him fade into the forest. She told herself he would come to her later.

  She rose with Bosho. “No matter what happens to me, never let Ison have control of the shadow guard.”

  He gripped her shoulders with strong hands. “The guard will be waiting for you, baethe-brue. And if I learn you need help, I’ll come.”

  They embraced each other briefly, and then her friend walked with Basir into the woods, leaving her more alone than she thought possible. When the pain and visions came, she wrapped her arms around her middle for several hours until they left. Then she sat against a tree, waiting for the night.

  Clouds blanketed the sky. Once, the faraway cry of a raacor drifted to her. Mril floated in ribbons through the upper branches of norre, and the pungent scent of a white tree drifted by on a breeze. For a short time, a fawn rested near Lor.

  Ison’s visit had left her with more pain, and she realized her pledge to always love him no longer had meaning. He wasn’t interested in her unless she stepped down as guide. “Then it’s truly over,” she murmured. That admission didn’t hurt as much as she would have thought.

  Later, Mereeth floated out of the dusk, her lithe legs and arms blending with the night’s shadows. Small scented petals were tucked into her mane-like dark green hair, her eyes emerald pools. She sat beside Famere, her ever-knowing gaze seeking hers. “You leave soon, don’t you, Fam?”

  “Tonight.” She stirred the dirt with her fingers. “I’m doing this for all of us.” Above all, she wanted her mother to believe her.

  “I’ve never doubted you, Fam.” She took her hand in hers. “It’s never been this way for our people, that someone so young had to carry so much responsibility. Our guides have always been much older, like your father, but the shadows chose youth over age, and a sun, and I trust their decision. If anyone can find a solution to the war, it’s you.”

  “Your vision came true. I’m leaving our people.”

  “When
you were near death, I kept hearing the words, She’ll die this morning. Your hate, the warrior you became, did die.” She squeezed her arm. “You’ll find others who are also tired of war.” She gazed at a nearby norre. “Outside of mrilwood, trees are being attacked.”

  “We saw trees dying to the south. What’s causing it?”

  “Our stories tell us that long ago Beloved used the sahr to talk to us. Then a thousand years ago there was a loss in sahr. The draghons living in our caves left and the goddess stopped appearing to us. A century ago, the balance of energy shifted again and the shadows left, the war started, and clouds covered the sky. I believe the clouded sky and loss of sahr are slowly killing everything.” She paused. “Strangely, after the shadows returned the sky has become darker. But things are changing again, Fam. Even the mril have more silver.”

  Awed by her mother’s ability to notice things invisible to others, Famere asked, “Is it possible to bring back the blue sky and sunlight?” She had carried this dream ever since bonding to the shadows, and the yearning for it had grown stronger after she had committed to peace. She wanted to find a way to do it.

  “Anything’s possible, Fam. I hope the sky clears in my lifetime.” She stroked Shir’s thick fur. “If the shadows are used for peace, perhaps that’s always been their true mission. Your offer of peace to the Coyote might affect the sky in some way we don’t expect.”

  “That’s worth any risk.” Her mother’s words gave her hope.

  Mereeth’s eyes became vacant, her lips pursed. Famere realized her sight was working.

  In moments, her mother stirred and spoke quietly. “Long ago, I saw you might end the war, Fam. Yet I also see our people divided and fighting each other.”

  Famere swallowed. “I’ll never let it happen.”

  Mereeth stroked the shadows. “I’ll miss them.”

  “How are Song and Toash?”

  “Song has more silver in her hair, and they both give you their blessings.” Mereeth grasped her hand. “They understand why you seldom visited them.”