by Candy Nicks
"They need never know."
He let out a snort of laughter and looked her up and down. “They strut about with their swords and their loud voices, but who holds the real power?"
"I'm a Moon-Child. It's our philosophy that some things are best not shared."
"And look where it's got you. Go away. This conversation is over."
"Only if you eat your soup. I promised Naima I'd feed you."
Finn's spirit-self sighed and regarded the frozen body of the woman sitting, trance-like by the bed. Spoon in hand she waited for her own spirit to return. Such a kind face. So many kind faces had paraded by since he'd arrived. Perhaps he had died after all and these were the Companions, sent to guide him to the next life?
Afterlife—not something he'd contemplated in much depth. Living this life had been hard enough. Now, for the first time, he realised his afterlife might not consist of the release and the heavenly choirs he'd always imagined. How many people had he killed in his quest for freedom? How many did you have to kill for the Pit of Eternal Torment to become a reality? Did wolves go to hell because they'd been born with the instinct to kill? That didn't seem fair on any level.
"I'll eat the soup for Naima."
"Thank you.” Carine's image shimmered then reappeared. “You're worried about your soul, aren't you? Don't be. Your sins are not beyond redemption."
Redemption? Was that the reason he'd staggered across the plains, through forests, his injuries only allowing him to take wolf-form for short periods. The beast had picked up speed and moved with the certainty of one who knew exactly where they were going. As a man, he'd had no clue, no idea of where he was, or why.
Backing into the corner of the room, he watched Carine's spirit-self shimmer and disappear. Saw Carine blink twice and shake herself. She lifted the spoon to resume her feeding, called him a good boy, encouraging every mouthful into him with words more suited to a child. Was that how he appeared to her? After twenty-four summers, he'd yet to see the world in which he lived other than from the shelter of captivity. Perhaps she sensed that.
Damnation, he'd been so ready to die. Now he knew what had stopped him from walking into the light. Fear that the fires of Hell, the Pit of Torment, would be waiting for him on the other side. He swooped back into his body, his taste buds savouring the meaty broth. The will to live surged through him and he almost choked on the soup in his haste to swallow and let it help to make him well. Carine slid an arm around his bony shoulders and lifted him, her other hand patting his back while he coughed away the spasm.
"There, there,” he heard her say. “Easy, now. Easy..."
He flopped back onto the bed feeling utterly drained. Naima—falling in love with him? How could she be, so soon?
Redemption. Or love? Goddess, what kind of choice was this?
Carine spooned the last of the soup, wiped Finn's lips and patted his arm. Slipping quietly from his body, the spirit-man moved to the window and gazed at the world. The Goddess must surely be laughing at this, the biggest joke of all. If he lived, he already knew which option he would choose.
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Chapter 4
"Naima, are you listening to me? I'm so jealous of you—in a nice way of course. Come and chat. I've seen nothing of you since the stranger arrived. Come on, we used to share everything."
Naima gave up pretending to prick out seedlings and rubbed her hands together to free them of the crumbly loam. With an apologetic smile, she unfastened her apron and hung it on a hook to signify that her friend now had all of her attention.
"I'm sorry,” she replied. “I know I've been rather preoccupied lately."
"Preoccupied?” Her friend laughed. “That's putting it mildly. When you're not keeping vigil over our mysterious visitor, you're walking around dreaming of your forthcoming marriage to Kandar. Sometimes you're not here at all. Oh, Naima, I wish I were an Eagle maiden. Kandar is every woman's dream man."
"My marriage to Kandar? I'm not marrying Kandar—who told you that?"
"I thought he'd asked you. The dreamy expression. The faraway look? Come on, it's pretty obvious something's happened."
Could she trust Lia with the truth? They'd been friends from the start, both of them brought up away from their families, lacking the honour of a family name. Lia had been a great solace in the early days when the Settlement had been little more than an encampment and Naima had at times wondered why she'd made the journey.
"Oh, I wish it were me, Naima. I'd have him like a shot.” Lia crooked her arm and tilted her head in invitation. “Come, I've brought some of my famous berry-juice. Sit outside and talk with me awhile, and you can formally invite me to stand as your brides-woman. I've saved a bolt of blue linen for my gown. And I saw your father buying real silk from one of the trader's last spring. White silk, may I add."
Naima resisted the urge to glance at her wrist chronometer. “Just for a short while, Lia. I have visits to make. Housebound patients..."
"Before you shoot off back to the hut?” Lia cut in. “What is the fascination? He's just a dead man, or soon will be. I'd much rather be gazing at Kandar."
"Gaze at him, have him.” Naima followed Lia through the door of the glasshouse and settled herself reluctantly on the stone bench. Lia belonged to the Odoni, a tribe that scavenged and foraged on the outskirts of the City and, for that reason alone, stood little chance of attracting Kandar's attention. He'd want a pure bloodline for his offspring and the daughter of a Faylar, one of Eyrie's most prestigious families, ticked all his boxes in a way Lia never would.
"You can't mean that.” Lia stared at her wide-eyed. Pursing her lips, she looked away. “He'd never as much as glance in my direction."
"He'd prefer to marry an Eagle maiden, that's for sure. It just won't be me."
They sat in silence while Lia digested this latest piece of gossip. Naima knew the news would be all about the Settlement before dusk. Not the fairest of ways to let Kandar know her true feelings. When she finally looked up, she saw, with dismay, the very man ambling towards them.
Kandar came to a halt, smiling his perfect smile, the sleeves of his home-spun work-shirt rolled back to reveal powerful forearms. His waist-length hair was tied back with a braided-leather strip and sweat trickled from his chin to pool in the hollow of his throat.
"Good afternoon, ladies.” He executed a smart bow and wiped off his brow with the back of his hand. “Is that berry-juice I see?"
"Why, yes. I made it myself.” Lia nearly fell over herself proffering the drink. Naima picked up a mug, but Kandar was already gulping straight from the jug. He handed it back with an apologetic grin.
"The best I've ever tasted,” he said gallantly. “Hauling rocks is thirsty work."
Naima fixed a neutral smile on her face while, beside her, Lia leaned forward expectantly, her invitation clear. When Naima poked her with a foot, Lia pushed it away and patted the bench.
"Why don't you join us, Kandar? We'd love to hear more."
Naima groaned inwardly. If Kandar sat down, they wouldn't be away within the hour. To her relief, he declined politely and remained standing.
"I would like to see more of you,” he said, the words carrying a meaning beyond the obvious.
Lia let out a small giggle, which she quickly turned into a cough. Naima shrugged and widened her smile. “I've been busy."
"Yes, I know.” A flash of irritation clouded Kandar's features. “I'm not the only one who's noticed your recent preoccupation. Naima, I need to talk with you."
"Not now. I have so much to do.” She stared down at his enormous dust-covered boots, planted wide apart in front of her. For all his charm, in the matter of his marriage proposal he would be as immovable as a mountain.
"Then when? Your father gave me leave to talk with you. He believes you are ready for this step."
"Tomorrow,” she said, her mouth dry. “After supper we will meet and talk. Does that please you?"
"Very much so. Thank you.
Ladies.” He bowed and left, whistling a jaunty tune, a decided spring in his step.
How did she say no to him? The rebuff would offend him greatly, particularly since everyone in the Settlement already thought their formal betrothal a mere formality. Lia nudged her with an elbow.
"This time tomorrow, you'll be virtually married."
"Do you really want him?"
"What kind of stupid question is that?” Lia tilted her head and frowned. “What is it with you? It's more than a reluctance to marry Kandar, isn't it?"
"There's a herb. Carine showed me how to mix and prepare it. Give it to Kandar and he'll have eyes only for you."
"Are you serious?” Lia let out a long breath followed by a nervous laugh. “You are serious.” Hope alternately flared and faded in her eyes. “Rather unethical, wouldn't it be?"
Compared to sacrificing herself to a life with Kandar? Naima took Lia's hands, holding her in place. Anxious to get the words out before her nerve failed her.
"Not really, Lia. You'll just be helping a friend out of a corner. I don't want to marry him. You think he's wonderful. He can't help falling in love with you when he really sees you. It's the perfect solution."
Lia wavered for a single breath. “Show me what to do,” she said catching Naima's excitement. “I'll make him a present of my berry juice. And...” Her lips curved into a secret smile. “Let's say I'll distract him for a while so you can get to know your mystery man a little better."
Naima pulled Lia into a hug, pushing back her unease at the deception. Desperate situations required desperate remedies. In her mind, Finn had already claimed her and she had validated his claim. When she wore the white silk, it would not be for Kandar.
"It's a powder,” she said. “Get him alone and put it in his drink. The aphrodisiac will do the rest. And when it wears off..."
"It will be too late.” Lia stood and flicked an insect from her skirt. “Well, what are we waiting for? Carine is watching the boys at arms training. We don't want her in on this, do we?"
"No, we don't.” Naima reached for the jug, still half-full of the berry juice Kandar loved so much. Carine wouldn't tell, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter.
"Come on, Naima. I know just the time and place."
The jug trembled in her hand as Naima rose on unsteady legs. She was doing Kandar a favour; they would never make each other happy. Better that he take his chances with one of the other women in the Settlement. Any one of them would fall at his feet in adoration.
She unlocked the door to the herb-still and motioned Lia inside. “Carine, nor anyone, must ever know."
"My lips are sealed."
"And you're only to distract him. If things happen, well...?"
Lia nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Absolutely. I'll just keep him out of your way for a while and, who knows, he may develop a taste for short, dark-haired women. She leaned forward, her expression serious. “Don't worry, Naima. No one will ever know we gave love a helping hand. Tell me exactly what to do."
The herb-still had always been one of Naima's favourite places. Rows of pottery jars lined the shelves. Neatly-bundled plants hung from the ceiling and wall-hooks, each with its own familiar smell. Each one a life-saver in their own way. She found the jar and slid her finger over the label. This one, too, would be saving her from a life of boredom and misery with Kandar.
And possibly condemning him to one? Shame washed over her. What right did she have to do that to anyone?
Carefully replacing the jar on the shelf, she pulled down its neighbour, a simple tonic, and tipped a measure of the finely-ground powder into the jug.
"There,” she said. “Top it up and make sure he drinks it all."
"You're a true friend, Naima."
"It's nothing.” Naima turned away and made a show of rearranging jars on shelves. Unable to face the hope in Lia's eyes. Already her friend had the whole future planned out in her mind. Was it a human failing to want to hang everything on the slenderest of threads? Or was their willingness to grab at chances as life presented them their greatest strength?
How much easier it would be to simply marry Kandar and live a life with at least minimal guarantees. He'd love her, in his own way, keep her and honour her. She'd give him fine yellow-haired children. Grow old listening to the sound of his voice. When she turned back, Lia had disappeared.
Finn had kissed her once, in a state of delirium. He'd touched her as a man touches a woman he wants. Had he mistaken her for someone else—a lover he'd left behind, perhaps? If he was a Lupine, were there others like him? Was he, just like all of them, trying to find out where he fit into this world?
From somewhere, Naima dragged up the enthusiasm to make her house-calls. She listened politely when people wanted to talk. Held their hands when they needed reassurance. Experienced a strange pang of jealousy when the woman who'd complained of a stomach upset, confided that she was with child. Naima mixed a herb for the sickness and left the woman and her husband to bask in their happiness.
It was a lonely walk home. So many couples and families lived on the Settlement, now. Children were the township's future and suddenly everyone appeared eager to do their bit to increase the population.
Perhaps she was ready for this next step. Marriage. Children. A strong arm to hold on to. Back at the house, she found her father sitting on a bench, his long legs stretched out. A tankard of ale in his hand. His short hair was wet, and he had the tired satisfied look of one who'd completed a good, but exhausting, day's work. With a nod at her medi-kit, he acknowledged her contribution to the Settlement.
"Another baby on the way,” she said, sitting beside him.
"Good news. Have you spoken to Carine?"
"No, but I will talk to Kandar tomorrow."
"Good. At least give him a fair hearing."
Heat radiated from him. A solid, reassuring warmth. He'd had the courage to go and find her when it would have been easier to forget her existence. She, too, had chosen the rocky path rather than the safe familiarity of the Old Settlement. Neither of them had settled for second best. It wasn't in their nature.
"Don't get your hopes up, Father."
"I won't. And you mustn't either. I don't want to see you hurt."
"I don't know what you mean,” she said and pressed her face into his soft shirt to hide the rising blush.
"I've seen many injuries, Naima. He won't survive them, no matter how carefully you tend him. Understand that now and spare yourself the pain."
"He only needs a reason to live.” She sniffed back the threatening tears, determined to remain strong in her convictions. “To know someone cares enough to want him back. I didn't ask to feel like this."
She heard the clink of the tankard on the paving stone. Felt an arm slide around her shoulders and pull her closer.
"I know. But you're young and full of hope. The blood is rising. Spring is in the air. A time for new beginnings."
"Not with Kandar. Never with him."
Ancel blew out a resigned breath. His acceptance that she would choose her own path in life. She whispered thank-you into his damp shirt.
Darkness stole over them as they sat together, listening to the music of the night. The whirr and click of insects, the swish of wings as birds flew home to roost. From an upstairs window, she heard her brothers excited bickering. Somewhere on the Settlement, a dog howled. It was immediately answered by another, high on the slopes behind the township. A long plaintive serenade to the twin moons. Repeated over and over.
The sound made her shiver. Had Finn heard it too? How could he not? It was a wolf calling his own.
* * * *
The greatest joy lay in belonging—something he'd always been denied. The sound of his wild brothers threaded itself in and out of his consciousness, making his muscles twitch, sharpening his focus. In his dreams, he was up on the mountain slopes, the wind in his hair, experiencing the sheer joy of running with the pack. Raising his voice with theirs in a hymn
of celebration and lament. For the past his captors had stolen from him and the future he might never know, he sang, and cried and let his voice be heard.
Naima came in the night. Full of panic as she fumbled with the key and pushed open the door to the hut. He heard the soft pad of her boots on the wooden floor of the small ante-room followed by the creak of the door to his room.
Her concern touched something deep inside him. Over the years he'd held himself apart from others, connecting only briefly when his defences wore too thin to shield him. The fear he'd inspired had made him feel powerful, the pity had weakened him. In between had been the odd kind gesture, a few people who might have understood him. They'd never stayed long enough to make a difference to his life.
His spirit-self watched Naima unwrap the scarf from her head, her golden hair a pale gleam in the moonlit room. She draped it loosely about her shoulders, glanced around and listened. Her heart beat wildly as she moved to his bedside and laid a hand on his brow.
"I couldn't sleep,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “The wolves are so agitated tonight and I needed to see how you were. Carine told me ... she'd spoken to you...” She took his unfettered hand in hers.
So you know what I am?
"Finn, are you trying to talk to me, or am I dreaming this? You're asleep, yet I can hear you in my head. Make me understand. Tell me this isn't a dream."
You didn't answer my question. The spirit moved closer, stepping into her aura, letting it merge with his. Naima, look at me and tell me what you see.
She shivered and glanced nervously around. “I see a man. A man in need of care and love."
You do not see a Lupine? The one being who can help your friend? Isn't that what all this talk of care and love is about? Keeping me alive, so I can help cleanse her soul?
"We would care for you, whoever you were. The love—that's something I have no control over."
Another howl. Naima turned her head and listened. “They're here for you?"
Yes. I saw them only as ghostly shapes amongst the rocks and trees. Heard their voices as they shadowed me on my journey. Now they keep vigil and let me know I'm not forgotten.
