by Candy Nicks
Exhausted, he fought to keep his trembling arm outstretched, like a beggar desperate for alms. What a coward he was. Life might be about choices, but he wasn't going to give her one. In his mind, in his wolf's mind, they'd already made the commitment.
"If you leave, I'll come after you. Claim you in front of everyone. You're the reason I'm alive. The reason I'll keep on living. No one will ever love you as I do.” The words were too grand, spoken with the eloquence of someone who had nothing to lose from baring his soul.
"I'm leaving because I have to, not because I want to."
He laughed, half-sob, half cry of relief. Her fingers slid around his, instinctively curving and interlinking in a gesture now comfortable and familiar. Beneath her insecure and tender flesh ran a backbone of pure iron, which would hold her upright and straight when weaker men crumbled into the dust. She'd made her decision long before he had his.
"You make me believe anything is possible,” he told her with genuine awe in his voice.
"With me by your side, it will be,” she replied, with laughter in hers. More seriously, she said, “I wish this could be perfect and uncomplicated. It will never be. I love you, Finn. When you need me, I'll be here. You might just have to share me sometimes. Life is mostly about compromise. Things are rarely black and white."
For him, they had been. Darkness and light. Captivity or freedom. Life or death. He'd killed his tormentors without considering alternatives. He wanted Naima, so he'd take her. Now he saw the spaces in between the choices. How in Hell's name did he navigate them with no map to show him the way?
"I'll be your guide,” she said reading his doubt. “Help you find a place in this world. I won't always get it right. I can only try. I have to go now, or they'll come looking for me. Tell me it's enough for you."
"More than enough.” He pressed a grateful kiss to her knuckles. “If this is love, I think I must love you too. Will you tell your father about me?"
"If you promise to be here when I come back. There are clothes on the chest. Sunshades for your eyes. When you feel well enough, you must dress and come down to meet my family. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."
Coming from her lips, it sounded easy. The man was already leaping forward in huge bounds to a future filled with all the comforts of life, but deep inside, the wolf circled uneasily, its fur prickling as it heeded another call.
"I'll be here,” he said, glad the exhaustion had robbed his beast of the energy it needed to break free.
The open door let the last rumbles of the storm into the room charging the air with an excitement that prickled his skin. Soon he would be healed enough to walk freely amongst men. He'd need a cover story for the inevitable questions—blast-gun burns were difficult to disguise as something else. To fool her father he must tread carefully indeed.
"Naima,” he called out as she turned to leave. “If you don't come back soon, I will come to claim you."
"I hope so."
"When you do, bring more candy."
He heard her laughter as the door closed with a soft click.
* * * *
She took the coward's way out, hoping her father would reign in his temper for Carine's sake. Several times, she'd attempted to tell him how she'd usurped his authority with a decision that would affect them all. Now the light was fading fast, doors were being barred, windows shuttered. On the meadow surrounding the walls orange splashes of fire dotted the landscape, the campfires providing heat and protection and sometimes a means to cook food. Drifts of laughter and disembodied conversation punctuated the quiet, the day giving way to the night.
Ancel stood by a table on the far side of the bedroom industriously divesting himself of his blast-gun and short sword, his knife and his cudgel.
He glanced at her as he pulled off his weapons-belt and threw it onto a chair. “All right, let's have it,” he said. “You've been following me around all day like a lost dog. Come down to the kitchen and tell me what's bothering you."
Carine reached for her hand in solidarity. “No, let her speak here. This affects us all."
Ancel glanced at the two of them, his expression resigned. “I'm not going to like this."
Naima shook her head, glad to have Carine as mediator. Divided loyalties were hard to cope with.
"Father, I need to tell you something. And ask you something, too."
"You've fallen in love with Finn?” Ancel raised a speculative eyebrow. “You want my permission to court him?"
Her cheeks caught fire. Ancel crossed the room to stand in front of her, stooping to better see her turned-away face. Years of discipline and training had honed all of his skills, and he used them now to scrutinise her with eyes that missed nothing.
"Something like that,” she mumbled, unable to stare him down. Few people looked Ancel in the eye and came out the victor.
"Please tell me you're not with child.” The words tumbled out in a rush. A brief panic flashed in his eyes as he gazed at the product of his own indiscretion.
"What? No, no, I'm not. How could I be?” she added with a note of recrimination. Ancel shook his head and she saw him mentally berating himself for his tactlessness. “No, I need to tell you something, father. And, as you said, you won't like it."
Her father wisely let the words hang so neither of them would say something they'd regret. The pause allowed her a mental regroup and a stiffening of her spine. Much as she loved Ancel, her future lay with Finn.
"I've set Finn free. Unshackled him. We have no right to keep him prisoner. He's a free man.” She stood on rubbery legs stunned by the admiration, as well as the shock, in her father's eyes. “I'm sorry if I overstepped your authority."
"Don't be angry with her.” Carine stepped smoothly into the space between their words. “I don't believe he's a danger to anyone."
"Well, that's reassuring.” Ancel's tone held sarcasm, a hint of anger, although not as much as Naima had feared. She watched him clench and unclench his fists and resisted the urge to fling herself into his arms.
"So what?” he said. “He's free now, inviting every bounty hunter on the planet to take a pot-shot at him?"
"He's a runaway, yes. But not a criminal. You owe him sanctuary."
"And my daughter, too?"
"I can't help my feelings, Father. You, of all people, should understand."
They were so alike. In her father's face, she saw reflected her own determination, her doubts and fears. The mantle of care and worry they each took willingly upon themselves.
"I don't mean to overstep your authority. Of course I understand the need for caution. It just felt like the right thing to do."
"And you believe this with all of your heart?” Strong fingers lay gentle on her cheek.
"I do, Father.” The gesture moved her and softened her resolve to stand firm. Hadn't she been the one to lecture Finn on the need for compromise? “You taught me to always follow my heart and do right. Even if it meant striking out on my own."
Ancel's expression saddened. “So you are leaving us?"
"No.” The pain of loss sliced through her, a mere shadow of what the real thing would be like. “Father, I'm so confused. I love Finn and want to be with him. I love you all too."
She found herself engulfed by his arms. “Tell me I did the right thing,” she said into the soft cotton of his shirt. “We can't keep Finn chained. It's not right."
"Naima.” Ancel's voice cut through her anguish. “Sit down and listen to me."
She sat on the edge of the bed, tentative and relieved. At least Ancel hadn't raised his voice in anger. Beside her, outwardly calm, Carine offered quiet support. Naima could almost feel the knife-edge upon which her step-mother walked.
"Finn very likely has a price on his head. You do understand?"
"I do. But after all this time, who would bother to come this far for a single runaway? How valuable could he be?” She lowered her head to hide the truth in her eyes. “Won't they just assume he died of his injuries?"
"Possibly. We still need to be cautious."
"It's such a slim chance. He came here to get away from oppression."
"You only know what he's told you, Daughter."
She bristled as Ancel pulled rank on her. “I have no reason to disbelieve him."
"I know. Love can sometimes be a little ... blind.” He glanced briefly at Carine. “He could easily be a wanted man rather than a runaway. You've taken a big risk with everyone's safety, Naima. You should have consulted me first."
"And you'd have said yes?” Anger rose and quickly dissipated at the touch of Carine's hand on her arm. “He's not. You'll just have to trust me. I know he's not a danger to anyone.” She held her breath, sensing the final judgement. Swift justice, whether in battle or in life was Ancel's forte.
"The danger may lie with the people pursuing him. Some would kill anyone who stands in the way of their prize. If you withhold important information from me—someone might die. I need to know if he's being followed."
"There's a good chance."
"And the price?"
"You saw his wounds."
"Tell me what they mean."
He was pushing her, teaching her how a leader made sometimes-difficult decisions. “Someone wants him dead."
"Do you know why?"
Naima held herself together under his intense scrutiny, working through the implications in her mind. A tangled web of what if, and why. “No,” she said, frowning. “Someone tried to kill him. He's not told me why."
"Some runaways are just as valuable dead as they are alive. A dead body is more easily transportable. What are your feelings on that?"
She considered the question with rising horror. “It's possibly a lot more complicated than we know.” She glanced at Carine and continued. “We need to protect him. Let him stay, please. His sight is damaged beyond repair. How will he fare by himself in the wide world? I'll take full responsibility for his behaviour."
"I can't let you do that."
"I have the right. I guarantee his behaviour by my word as a member of the tribes of the Eagle."
Ancel's expression held a hint of wry amusement beneath the seriousness. Respect, too. Regardless of this democratic new life, the old rituals would always be dear to his heart. He inclined his head in formal acceptance of her vouch-fast.
"I grant you the right. Make sure he knows your honour is on the line here. And,” he added, “be careful, please. If he's your choice, I will accept him in my house. I want you to be happy and safe. The dangers are real—look what happened to Carine. I still maintain Kandar would have been the better choice."
Naima studied her father and Carine. An Eagle warrior and a Moon-Child living in matrimonial harmony—not something you saw every day. “I'm just following your example. Thank you. For your love and protection. And your understanding."
"Oh, I've learned to be good at that.” Ancel gave Carine a conspiratorial wink and continued. “When he's well enough, bring him to dinner and we'll be properly introduced."
"He'll ask for my hand."
Ancel was shaking his head before she'd finished talking. “No, your hand isn't mine to give. I lost that right when I ... Just follow your own heart and I'll be here to protect you."
"Well said.” Carine's loving approval filled the room. The way she always gave so much, regardless of the cost to herself, humbled Naima and, much as she wanted to race back to Finn with the good news, she forced herself to remain and make small talk about the everyday things of life. The final touches to the herb stall, the need to source new books for the school. Comforting details to balance out the dramas and ground her when she felt as if she could fly high above the mountains without the benefit of wings.
The light finally faded and the house became a haven of safety from all the creatures of the night. Ancel left to take a bath while Naima sat quietly marking time with Carine.
Her thoughts soon strayed to Finn. Could she do this? Live each day looking over her shoulder for those who would take him away from her.
A wolf's keening cry let her know she wasn't alone. She glanced at the darkened window and the black shapes of the mountains beyond. Was he on the slopes with them his other family, singing with joy for his new-found freedom?
He would never be wholly hers. The bounty hunters, the wolves, Carine and the Goddess—they all had a claim on him, or wanted a piece of him. Naima had to wonder how much would be left for her when the feeding frenzy ended.
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Chapter 10
The world was enormous. Finn stretched out his arms and found empty space all around him. Walked more than ten steps without hitting a wall or bars. When he raised his voice and cried out his name, the sound echoed and bounced around the mountain peaks and seemed to go on forever. If not for his injury, he would never have been able to rein back his wolf. It resented being caged deep inside him while the man roamed free.
"The wolf in all its glory takes a lot of energy.” Finn listened to Naima's body language, her grip on his arm, the way she moved in and out of his aura. “Strong emotions, anger, excitement, fuel it,” he told her. “Afterwards I'm on such a high. Then..."
"The crash?"
"I always imagined it would be like falling from the top of a mountain. At first, I used to love showing off for the crowds. I soon realised I was going nowhere. Every single day of my life would be the same."
"Will they still be looking for you?"
Finn stopped on the path and lifted his face to the blur of blue sky. A light breeze lifted loose strands of his hair. Scented air caressed his skin. The wolf crept forward for a peek, and through its eyes, he allowed himself a brief glance at Naima. Golden hair glowing in the sunlight, lips slightly parted she watched him attentively. He bent his head and whispered close to her face.
"Red is your colour. My wolf thinks so too. He wants you.” Naima's eye widened and he took advantage of her surprise and kissed her. She pulled away quickly, glancing around for witnesses. Her caution made him laugh. “You're kissing a wolf,” he said and kissed her again.
"Finn. Someone will see."
"Let them look."
"We can't, not yet..."
"Ahh. Kandar.” Inside Finn, the wolf bristled possessively.
"It wouldn't be fair on him. Put the sunshades on. Please? Can you imagine the questions?"
"Only for you,” he said and pulled them from of the top pocket of his shirt. They felt strange on his face, as did the unfamiliar clothes on his back, the boots on his feet.
"Naima, stop a moment."
"Are you hurting? Oh dear, I should have found you a warmer jacket."
He pulled a disciplined breath into his scarred lungs. “Hard to breathe sometimes. It will get better, with time. No need to coddle me."
"Will it heal completely?"
The edge of concern in her voice tugged at something deep inside of him. “Completely? I don't know. My powers of healing are good, but I've never been this badly hurt. Every time you touch me, it heals a little more."
"So I'll just have to keep on touching you."
"Please, yes.” The dizzy spell passed and they continued walking towards the Settlement, arm in arm like the couples his wolf had seen in the crowds who'd come from near and far to gape at him. Unwelcome thoughts of his past made him tense and remember that he was far too relaxed for a man on the run.
"It's all right. It's just Sol, my brother. He's been dying to meet you.” Naima squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Father's doubled the guard on the walls. He won't let anyone near you."
Should he tell her how great a danger he represented? How this apparent normality was just so much pretence?
"Enjoy your freedom, Finn."
While he could? The unspoken words hung heavy in the air between them. “I intend to,” he said and attempted a cocky swagger. Difficult when needle-sharp pain ripped through his chest every time he breathed.
"Sol is quite the warrior. And at only eight years old, t
oo,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Humour him."
Finn picked his way carefully over the stony track, his skin prickling with awareness as Sol moved into his space. “His aura is strong,” he said. “He will be a fearsome warrior one day."
"Yes. Sol, meet Finn."
Finn extended an arm, not sure of the correct form of address. Sol's hand felt small and vulnerable in his as they shook, solemnly.
"I'm happy to meet you, Sol."
"I've come to escort you down."
"I'm honoured,” Finn told him, oddly touched by the boy's concern. Despite his youth, Sol had an old soul.
"Are you a warrior too?"
Finn didn't need the benefit of sight to feel the intensity of Sol's scrutiny. What would the boy do if he changed, right here in front of him? What would they all do?
"No,” he said. “Not a warrior."
"How did you get so cut up?"
"Sol! Don't be rude."
"No, it's all right. I don't mind him asking.” Finn felt Sol backing off, indignation at being reprimanded in front of a guest pouring from him. “Sol. It was a good question. I was a bard,” he said, groping for a plausible story. “A troubadour."
"You sing and play?” Sol sounded doubtful, and a little disappointed.
"And make up stories. A powerful and very rich man said I owed him money. They put me in a cage and made me perform without payment. This happened during my escape.” He tapped his chest lightly.
"Oh."
"Perhaps when Finn is well enough, he'll tell us a story.” Naima stepped into the awkward gap, her tone more gentle this time.
"One about warriors?"
"I'll see what I can do,” Finn replied, distracted by the change in the light. Buildings, larger than the hut, surrounded them now, their blurred shapes looming all around him. The eye-shades made it a little easier to pick out the blocks and angles. The detail eluded him. This near to strangers, his wolf retreated into a state of suspicious unease. Finn reached out with all of his senses, feeling more exposed down here in the township than he ever had on the isolated mountain slopes. Walking amongst men meant risking discovery. Was anywhere really safe?
