Famere turned rigid. “Yameen!”
Two slayers rushed Yameen from opposite sides. Yameen threw her dagger into one, but the other swung his blade and cut her arm. Crying out, Yameen stumbled back as the slayer pursued her.
Goflin threw his knife into the scavenger’s back, and the attacker tumbled to the ground. Death mists swirled up from the soil.
Blood roared in Famere’s ears as the snarling shadows streaked toward her friends. Swinging her thrip in wild arcs, she toppled a nearby scavenger aiming an arrow at Goflin. Other attackers were rushing them from all sides.
Lor ran on, while Famere wheeled Shir and rode in a short half-circle, curling her thrip out to slow down their assailants. The scavengers stopped and raised their bows and atlatls.
Famere swung low on the side of Shir, and the shadow turned and fled. She heard arrows whistling past her and darts thudding into the ground. Swinging upright on Shir again, she looked ahead.
Goflin held both his and Yameen’s daggers and leapt atop Lor. Leaning over to grab Yameen’s good arm, he helped her swing up behind him. Growling, Shir joined Lor on the run and the two shadows bolted toward the stream and leapt across it.
Arrows and darts whistled in the air, and Famere and her friends bent low. The fog saved them, making it hard for their assailants to be accurate.
No maqal pursued them. The scavengers were on foot, as usual. Their voices carried to Famere all the way across the next small meadow until they reached the darker, concealing wood beyond. There they finally had quiet.
Relieved, Famere inspected her friends as the shadows raced around norre trees.
Goflin bent low over Lor’s back, focused on what lay ahead, his emerald hair trailing in the wind. Yameen clutched his waist, her small legs gripping Lor. A suu clung to her neck. Her injured arm dripped blood and hung limp at her side, and weariness replaced the usual mischievous light dancing in her eyes. Her wolf-bond, Yir, ran beside Lor.
Famere’s pulse quickened over Goflin following her. She understood now why he had kept silent during the council meeting and had avoided saying goodbye to her. She would have refused any offer from him to go with her. And Bosho must be panicked over his pledged life-mate Yameen following her. If Yameen died, what would she tell him?
Soon they burst out of the small parcel of woods onto the level summit of a grassy hill, giving Famere a clear view south. Patches of trees and grass lay scattered across the distant landscape.
The increase in trees gave her some comfort until they reached the edge of the hill and stopped. Not more than five hundred yards below them, a rider wearing a gold short-coat led several hundred slayers on maqal, a dozen fangors running beside them.
Giving a sharp signal, Famere sent the shadows west.
Shouting, the slayers split into two groups, one chasing them, the rest galloping north to cut off any retreat. Howling fangors ran directly at them.
Even at this distance, Famere recognized the scarred face of the slayer with the gold coat. He had led the slayers on the night Darkas died, and more recently he had tried to kill Bosho.
Burying her chin in Shir’s thick fur, she pressed her body flat, a mixture of anger and apprehension sparking her thoughts. Her side wound ached from her exertions. Trees and grass flashed by with the shadows’ flight, but her mind kept replaying images of Yameen and Goflin fighting scavengers.
They ran for most of the morning, through grassland and small stands of trees, leaving the slayers farther and farther behind. But fangor howls followed them. Famere exchanged glances with Yameen, but neither of them said anything. The fangors were tracking Yameen’s wolf-bond, Yir. Shadows never left any signs to follow.
At the top of a large hill, the shadows stopped just inside the tree line. Yir spun around and ran back down into the grass valley they had just crossed.
“Yir!” Yameen clicked harshly to her wolf-bond. She clicked again, but her wolf-bond ignored her, running across the valley bottom.
Famere’s stomach sank.
When the fangors reached the opposite hill, they saw the wolf. Giving wild howls, the beasts flung themselves into the valley. Yir ran north, chased by fangors with bared canines.
The wolf allowed them to catch her at the top of the valley hill. Whirling to the first, she tore at its legs with crushing jaws, bringing it down in a heap. She snapped the neck of the next, but other fangors attacked her from all sides, rolling with her out of sight with snarls and yelps.
Famere sat with the others in the trees until the snarls faded, the howls victorious. It sickened her to sit and do nothing, but she respected the wolf’s heroic action.
When the slayers crested the far side of the valley, they spurred their maqal north along the valley ridge in the direction of the howling fangors.
Yameen wiped away tears.
Famere leaned over and grasped her hand, squeezing it. “Your wolf gave her life for us, Yameen. She was very brave.”
“Yir saved us.” Goflin squeezed Yameen’s arm.
Yameen lowered her eyes, murmuring, “Blessings.”
“Gof, I’m sorry about Gir.” Famere saw pain flash in his eyes.
“Yes, truly, I forgot.” Yameen looked at him sadly.
Goflin nodded, his face drawn. “Blessings, but we should go.”
Famere clicked a signal. Giving low growls, the shadows carried them southwest for three hours. Famere never saw any sign of pursuit or slayers waiting for them, and they finally stopped in a small stand of trees.
Sliding off Shir, Famere helped Yameen sit against a tree, while Goflin kept lookout.
Satisfied that her friend’s wound wasn’t severe, Famere took dried white bark and red life-petals from one of her pouches and placed them on Yameen’s wound to stop the bleeding. Next, she bandaged her friend’s arm with fresh healing leaves.
Yameen managed a drowsy, “Blessings,” before falling asleep.
Leaving Yameen’s side, Famere walked toward Goflin. He was leaning against a tree, and when she neared him, he turned and stepped into her arms. They clasped each other tightly and she buried her face in his hair.
“You shouldn’t have come, Gof. You could have died.”
“You would have if we hadn’t followed. Was it a nice surprise, Fam?”
She wavered between yelling at him and thanking him. “Yes.”
“I’m never leaving you again.”
His words made her grip him tighter. “We could all die.”
“I told you long ago if you went on an adventure, I’d go with you.” He sounded sleepy. “Well, here we are, finally on an adventure.” Quiet for a few moments, he added, “I hope you don’t mind us riding Lor. I always wondered what it must be like to be a shadow rider. It’s unbelievable.”
“Yes, a blessing every time I do it.” She stroked his back. “You ran through the night?”
“We told a shadow rider you ordered him to carry us to the edge of Mrilwood, and we knew where you were going.”
“Liar,” she said softly. She was comforted when he rested his head on her shoulder. “Remember the silly songs you used to sing to me?”
He chuckled. “They weren’t very good.”
“I liked them.”
He sighed. “Mereeth told me about your visions, Fam, and they don’t bother me. No more secrets.”
Relief filled her. “No more secrets, Gof.” She kissed his cheek. Feeling immediately awkward, she allowed her hands to slide away. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”
His eyes were half-open, but he gave a faint smile. “All right, Fam.” He walked to a tree and curled up at its base, asleep immediately.
She watched him for some moments, her eyes trailing over his long green hair, his shining skin, and his peaceful face. She forced herself to turn away. Walking to another tree that gave her a good view of their surroundings, she sat against it, thinking about her friends’ boldness and the risk they had taken. They had earned the right to come with her. More, she was glad to have friends with
her. Especially Goflin.
Her thoughts turned briefly to Ison, but she found herself free of regret. That dream was gone.
Partially unlacing her bodice, she checked her side wound. The healing leaves on it showed no blood stains, so it hadn’t broken open and she left it alone.
All afternoon only a few birds warbled. Some brethren moved among the trees, but none came near her. It puzzled her until she realized the slayers must have frightened them. What would peace be like with those who killed brethren?
In early evening she found a fruit tree and flicked her thrip around a branch above her. She whistled softly, and Yameen’s suu came to her.
Cooing and leaping to her lowered arm, the suu climbed across her shoulder and other arm, and then up the thrip, its tiny green body quickly moving into the tree’s upper branches. Soon the animal picked a round, purple heartfruit, and tossed it to Famere’s waiting hands. More fruit followed.
When Famere had enough, she clicked a signal. The suu vaulted down onto her open hand, leapt to the ground, and ran back to Yameen. Polishing a piece of fruit, Famere took a bite, its tart, pungent odor wrinkling her nostrils as its juice ran over her tongue. The meaty seeds filled her.
She placed fruit next to Yameen and Goflin as they slept, and then moved off to keep watch. Finding a large tree, she sat against it. Shir and Lor rested beside her.
Once a band of slayers rode to the east of her, a hundred yards away, but slayer sight was poor and they never saw her or her friends. A few times she heard maqal and fangors snorting and shuffling through the grass in distant meadows, while coarse slayer voices floated to her.
Night arrived and her plan no longer seemed straightforward. She knew the general direction to take to find the Coyote, but she wasn’t confident of the location of the slayer’s camp. Breaking a blade of grass, she ran its smooth edges through her lips, tasting the blade’s bitter flavor.
Moths fluttered above her, and once a lone owl floated by, hunting mice. Later, a solitary blood scent came to her of a fox capturing a rabbit. The rabbit didn’t even have a chance to squeal in death. A few large sharpies wandered past, grazing and not paying attention to her. As the night wore on, her thoughts drifted to mrilwood; she missed the presence of brethren, mril, and the scent of white trees. To stay awake, she loosened her braid and redid it with fresh strands of grass. Still, it wasn’t long before her weary eyelids closed repeatedly as she tried to stay alert.
She woke with a start to the Prophetess writhing in flames in front of her, the slayer’s small features showing agony. Yellow and red tongues of fire licked the air inches from Famere’s feet, yet no heat warmed her skin. However, the woman shook with obvious pain.
The slayer looked at Famere in a knowing way that only Mereeth and Goflin seemed capable of; Famere recognized trust and kindness in the Prophetess’ blue eyes.
Shir and Lor whimpered, staring at the pillar of fire.
The Prophetess spoke with trembling lips, her thin arms wrapped around her body. “Go to Red Stone Meadow, Famere. It is the beginning and the end. Nothing is as it seems. The enemy isn’t who he appears to be. Search inside for him.”
The fire and Prophetess vanished.
Famere wondered if the Prophetess would suffer more for visiting her. She resolved that if she ever found a way to free the mageen from the fire, she would do it. Often in the last days she had hoped to meet the Prophetess again, and this second visit gave her renewed confidence in her peace effort.
It also forced her to give up her hatred for the slayer gold short-coat. She had to offer peace to all slayers. And as Bosho had pointed out, she had left many slayers fatherless. Thus, for the first time since Darkas’ death, she allowed the last remnants of hate to slide away.
Late in the night the others stirred.
Famere walked over and knelt beside Yameen, embracing her. Goflin took a few grains of soil and dropped them into Yameen’s and his life-pouch for the memories of their wolf-bonds.
“Blessings,” said Yameen.
“Of course.” Goflin nodded.
“Can you travel?” Famere examined her friend carefully.
“Truly, I’m better.” Rising awkwardly, but smiling, Yameen moved her arm a little, showing more strength. Her small features were childlike, her three braids of hair hanging over her shoulders. She ate the heartfruit, her eyes darting between Goflin and Famere.
Famere rose and regarded Goflin uncertainly. She was the wyshea guide, but her fluttering emotions seemed to trample her ideas of what was proper. Goflin decided for her, and came into her arms, holding her tightly. When he pulled back, she gazed at him, her stomach trembling, surprised over the sureness of his grip. He kissed her lightly on the lips, and afterward his eyes shone.
“It’s about time.” Yameen shook her head. “Mereeth wondered how long it would take you two to figure it out.”
Famere blinked. “Mother said that?”
“Well, Famere was busy with a small war.” Goflin winked at Yameen.
Famere’s cheeks warmed. “Well, I was busy.” She wondered how long Goflin had cared for her, but she didn’t have the nerve to ask. Instead, she told them about the Prophetess’ visitation during the night.
Yameen brightened at the mention of Red Stone Meadow. “I’ll lead you to it. We’ll be there by early morning.”
Famere stared at her in surprise. “You know where it is?”
“Of course! All suns do.”
“So suns have adventures too.” Goflin smiled knowingly at Famere.
Famere wanted to question Yameen further, but Goflin kissed her cheek, and then jumped atop Lor.
Yameen leapt up behind him, patting Goflin’s back as Lor walked into the woods. She smiled back at Famere. “He of One Shadow.”
Famere hurried to mount Shir and follow. No one had ever ridden Lor before yesterday, but the shadow showed no resistance to Goflin or Yameen. Yameen might be right. Maybe Lor was always meant for Goflin. It might be the reason why he had been the only male to bond with a wolf on her bonding day. That idea made her smile. So did Goflin’s kiss.
Throughout the night they drifted southwest, moving through larger patches of forest with more trees, occasionally stopping when they heard slayers’ maqal snorting in the distance. One time the shadows ran easily at the edge of a meadow until the tiny light of a slayer campfire forced them back into the woods.
Thick-eyed and weary, Famere needed sleep, but she didn’t object to their pace. Now more than ever she wanted to find the Coyote quickly, so they could all go home to mrilwood. When morning approached, they hugged the woods, not daring the open meadows they often passed.
Shortly before dawn they broke through a thick, fairly large area of trees that had some young norre in it. In front of them spread a bright green meadow larger than any Famere had ever seen. Its tall grasses brushed her thighs and a light breeze brought a fresh scent of new growth. Patches of yellow and white flowers were scattered throughout the meadow, glistening with morning dew, and mril thrummed in clumps hovering over the moist grasses and sucking them dry.
The meadow and mril gave Famere hope that some areas south of mrilwood were still alive and healthy.
“Beautiful.” Goflin smiled. “I like this Prophetess.”
“So do I.” Yameen stretched her arms.
“I trust her,” said Famere.
Lor and Shir loped into the grass, eager in their strides as if happy to be here. The two shadows ran up a gently sloped hill toward the center of the expanse. Famere scanned east and west for slayers until they reached a small plateau that allowed them to survey the whole meadow. A few small herds of sharpies were grazing to the west, and three long-eared meadow cats could be seen leaping above the grass as they hunted for mice.
At the center of the plateau, Famere slid off Shir onto the brittle ground. The meadow radiated like a star in five directions, with thick forest bordering the sides of the star’s arms. From their position they could see anyone approach
ing, but when standing they would also be visible to anyone in the surrounding woods.
The shadows lay down to rest, laying their massive heads on their paws.
As the night’s darkness evaporated, the mril finished their dew harvest and left the meadow in a sparkling flight. The three of them watched in silence.
Famere hesitated, and then grasped Goflin’s hand as they stood beside each other. He smiled, but didn’t look at her.
For a few moments the meadow grew silent. Then beetles burrowed in the ground, butterflies sought flowers, dragonflies hummed in flight, and songbirds sang in the surrounding forest. All of it soothed Famere. However, the morning was darker than usual, due to black blotches of clouds marking the sky. She resisted interpreting it as a bad omen for peace.
“This is Red Stone Meadow.” Yameen sat near Lor, the surrounding grass swaying above her head. “The slayers won’t think we are stupid enough to be out in the open like this.” She gave a tired smile.
“Yes, no one would be this foolish.” Goflin rolled his eyes.
Famere noted how shiny Yameen’s skin looked, completely free of scars. “Does Bosho know you came?”
Yameen said with determination, “I told him I’d only go partway, but I couldn’t let you come alone.”
“Blessings.” Famere gazed at her friend. “I’m lucky to have your help.”
“What’s next?” asked Goflin.
“We wait.” Famere released his hand and sat near Yameen, crossing her arms. “The Prophetess didn’t tell me anything else.”
Yameen broke a grass stem to chew on. “What are we waiting for?”
Famere felt embarrassed. “I have no idea.”
“Did you ask the Prophetess how long you should wait?” asked Yameen.
“No.”
“I hope it’s not too long.” Yameen sounded disappointed.
Famere frowned. Yameen behaved as if they were here to gather flowers, which seemed especially surprising after she just lost her wolf-bond.
“Well, She of Two Shadows can’t think of every detail.” Goflin winked and sat beside Famere.
Their words made Famere wish she had questioned the Prophetess. She had no answer for why the Prophetess hadn’t been more specific and no idea what might happen next. It unsettled her.
Wyshea Shadows Page 21
