The Forbidden

by Lori Holmes

  “If you will not help us, I have no further use for you on this hunt, Rannac,” Eldrax said, his voice calm once more as he kicked Rannac’s fallen spear far out of reach. “You have my permission to return to the clan… if you are able. If you are there when I return, I will speak no more of this day. If not, I will not suffer to hear your name again. Either way, you will have served your punishment for questioning your chief.”

  Eldrax spun to face the rest of his men. “Do any others among you wish to turn tail and return to the clan like a bunch of meek women?”

  Their expressions ranged from horrified to subdued as they glanced at Rannac panting on the ground. All of them took a step back from Eldrax and kept their eyes lowered.

  “Good,” Eldrax hissed. “We will remain in these hills until the witch is found! No man sleeps until we pick up her trail. Do you understand?”

  His men murmured their agreement. Grunting, Eldrax turned away to study his options. A lower path, hemmed in by steep slopes rising on both sides, led away into the mid ranges. Another more open path looked as though it would lead on up into the very summits of the hills. He considered them both; if he chose wrong…

  “My… chief,” Rannac rasped from the snow. Eldrax gazed down in disbelief that the man had had the audacity to speak again. He briefly considered breaking his other leg. “The cave has a rounded mouth and is set into the top of a hill.”

  Eldrax heaved a tragic sigh. “You should have started to be more helpful before I broke your leg, Rannac.” His lips twisted. “Now, is there anything else that you can tell us about this cave that might distinguish it from the hundreds of others that are no doubt scattered throughout these forsaken hills?” Eldrax’s voice drawled. “You have decided not to join us after all.”

  Rannac glowered as he stared up into Eldrax’s face. He paused for a long moment then shook his head. “Simply take the highest ranges. It is the best advice I can give.”

  Eldrax snorted and turned away. He would search every cave in the mountains if he had to. The Light Bringer was rising as Eldrax ordered the rest of his men towards the higher path with a jab of his spear. Juran’s finger bones danced on the ends of their cords. He did not look back as they left Rannac to his fate. Predators would finish him before dark.

  * * *

  21

  Ties That Bind

  Rebaa’s heart felt like it would break into a thousand pieces as she passed down the familiar paths. Nen had taught her each and every one during their foraging ventures together. Whenever her exhaustion drove her to rest, which was more often than she would like, Rebaa clung to her baby and cried out her grief for all the loss in her life. For Juran, for Nen. Both had died to save her. Both had left her alone.

  Only her baby’s warmth against her heart gave her the strength to stagger back to her feet each time and keep going.

  Stains of blood marked Rebaa’s every resting place.

  The late afternoon light found her stumbling down the narrow trail hemmed in by the steep hills either side. This was the very trail that lead to the copse where Nen had given her her first hunting lesson. Her heart gave another sharp pang of pain and regret.

  Beside the pain was a growing anxiety. She was moving too slowly. When she had last come here, it had taken less than a morning’s travel to reach this point. Now, despite travelling since before dawn, Nimah was already descending through the sky. Hindered by the snowfall from the storm, she had often been forced to break away from a trail and find an alternative route because the usual path had become hopelessly blocked. She had been amazed to find that the trail she currently travelled had remained open. She was thankful for that good fortune but she knew once she reached the copse, she would be leaving Nen’s territory and entering unfamiliar terrain.

  Ninmah was halfway down on her descent when Rebaa staggered against an outcropping of rock. Her baby and the meat she carried were a dead weight on her shoulders. No. No. She tried to force herself upright. You can’t rest again. Not yet. Get to the copse. The copse where you caught your first rabbit, then you can rest. Further, just a little further. This narrow pathway was the perfect place for an ambush.

  She had just persuaded her aching limbs to hold her upright when her baby began to cry lustily, fussing in his sling. Rebaa groaned, glaring at him. He had stubbornly slept through her last respite and now his strident wails told her he would not wait until the next. She had to feed him; his cries were the surest way to attract unwanted attention.

  Choosing a position that sheltered her from the cold breeze, Rebaa sank to the ground, resting her aching back against a rock as her son suckled. She winced at the additional pain this caused, though it was a minor discomfort in comparison to her other injuries. Her eyes drifted closed. If she had to rest now, she would at least allow herself to doze, just for a few moments…

  “Hhggrrrmmm.”

  The inarticulate moan rose from nowhere. Rebaa leapt to her feet, jolting her baby and causing him to cry in protest as he was dislodged from her breast.

  “Shhh!” she hissed at him as the sound drifted into stillness.

  It had come from close by and there had been no mistaking the human quality of the voice. Her senses quivered. A lone presence burned just over the rise in front of her. Her heart leaped to her throat.

  It was a Cro presence.

  She cursed her foolishness for letting her grief and weariness distract her. She wanted to run like a scared rabbit but she had to keep her wits if she wanted to survive. Nen would not have panicked and her friend had taught her much. She pointed the tip of Nen’s spear towards the presence of the unseen threat and backed carefully away from the trail ahead of her. She scanned her surroundings as she went, searching for another path to take.

  There wasn’t one. Steep slopes and sheer rock walls still surrounded her on both sides. She should have chosen her way more wisely. The only option was to go back and lose nearly a whole day’s travel.

  Her knees almost buckled at the thought but greater was the fear of what lay ahead. The Cro could appear over the rise at any moment and catch her here. She might be armed but she stood no chance against a Cro fighter.

  “Hhhggrrr.”

  Rebaa cringing into the nearest outcropping of rock. The voice was too close. Even if she turned back now, she would never outrun the Cro. She stretched out her senses again, probing carefully. There was only one. His companions were not in the area. Their absence was unnerving. She would rather have them where she could feel them. The lone Cro’s companions could be circling around behind her, gaining with every step, leaving this one in place to block her escape. A trap. Desperate, she looked to the sheer scree slopes once more, irrationally hoping that another path would have somehow materialised before her.

  Rebaa weighed her options. Go back, lose a day’s travel and possibly collide with the Cro’s brothers or go forward and try to evade a single Cro. The single consciousness was hazy, unfocused. Sleeping perhaps.

  She pressed her lips together into a determined line. The strength of her friend’s spirit seemed to linger around the wooden haft in her hands and she gripped on to it. After all she had been through, it irked her to give ground.

  With the spear thrust out before her, Rebaa made her decision and crept forward towards the rise ahead. Keeping low, she peered over the summit where the land opened out at last into a branching of ways.

  It took a full moment for Rebaa to pick out the object she had been searching for. Furs covered in snow, she might not have seen the Cro sprawled upon the ground had he not moved, attempting to drag himself forward on his belly. His moan once again drifted over the snow as he did so. The reason for his abandonment became clear. Even from this distance, Rebaa could see that his right lower leg was broken. His left arm was tightly bound. She doubted he could even stand right now, much less attack her. He was unarmed. He was no threat.

  Nevertheless, it took Rebaa a few more moments to summon the courage to break her cover and move down the
path into the view of her enemy. It went against every instinct. She tried to be quiet in the hopes of slipping by unseen but the loose stones under the snow shifted traitorously under her feet, crackling loudly in the stillness.

  The Cro’s head snapped around. His hand flew into the furs at his side, producing a flint knife in the space of a heartbeat. His arm flung back.

  “No!” Rebaa cried. Dropping Nen’s spear, she clutched one arm around her baby and thrust her other hand out in an instinctive but futile attempt to block the oncoming weapon.

  The bite of the blade never came.

  “You shouldn’t throw away your only defence like that.”

  With the blood still pounding in her ears, Rebaa dropped her hand very slightly at the sound of the rasping voice. He had rolled up onto a shoulder and grey eyes were peering at her from the midst of the rich brown face, currently twisted against the pain. “Don’t worry, girl, I do not kill women.”

  Rebaa’s gut lurched; his eyes… his eyes were the exact same shade as Juran’s. It hurt to look at them. Instead, she glanced quickly at his hand. It was now empty; the knife had disappeared back into his furs. Releasing her breath, she let her own hand fall back to her side.

  It hitched again when she noticed his other paw. A half-hand.

  “You!”

  I do not kill women…

  “Liar!” Rebaa snatched up Nen’s spear and rushed at the downed warrior in a haze of fury. She poised the tip over his chest, fully prepared to plunge it through his miserable heart. “You brought them back!” She screamed down at him. “Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?” Her baby could feel her emotions burning out of control and his wails of distress punctuated her every word. “Why?”

  The Cro’s only reaction was to tilt his face up at her, his gaze calm in the face of her fury. It only served to stoke her rage. She wanted him to be terrified. She wanted him to beg her for mercy. She wanted to be able to deny him.

  “Kill me if you wish,” he said. “You have the right.”

  Yes, she had the right, she would kill him and she would enjoy it, she would… Rebaa tightened her grip on Nen’s spear readying herself to bring it down.

  Her muscles locked into place. The fury rolled through her but her arms would not obey. She had never killed in such a way. She snarled in frustration. She should drop the spear, reach down and stop his heart in his chest as she had done to the last Cro; but that would be too much of a mercy and doing so would take energy that she did not have. It was more fitting for this Cro to meet a bloody end on the tip of Nen’s spear. It was all the mercy they had granted her friend.

  His horribly familiar eyes continued to stare up at her, unwavering in the face of his death. Like a warrior. Like Juran. This must have been how he had died, too. Her vision blurred and for a moment all she could see was her dead mate lying before her.

  Crying out in anguish, she swung the spear tip up and away, backpedalling from the wounded Cro. “I can’t do it!” she screeched. No matter how much hatred she held for this man, she could not kill in such a way. It would be a step too far.

  “You thought about it too much.” The Cro fell back off his shoulder, coming to rest spread eagle on the ground. He closed his hated eyes with a sigh.

  “Shut up!” Rebaa spat. “Because of you, my friend is dead. It’s all your fault.” It was all her fault. She had let him get away. Rebaa could feel the sobs building in her chest. Her fault.

  Rebaa saw a contraction of sadness pass over the dark face. “It’s cruel how fate works, isn’t it? I let her escape all those moons ago, only to be the cause of her death now.” He opened his eyes. “Just know that I did try to prevent it. I tried to lead him astray but your friend chose the wrong moment to break cover. Once she did that, I could do nothing more.”

  Before Rebaa could respond to that, his gaze came to rest upon the sling where her baby rested. Instinctively, Rebaa turned her body to shield him. The Cro chuckled at her actions.

  “I can see why Juran liked you, to protect his babe so.” His amusement turned into a cough. Wincing, he clutched at his chest. Rebaa could sense that two of his ribs were broken. “But there are far more deadly threats than my gaze coming after you, girl. If you wish to keep him safe, you must travel fast. I brought you as much time as I could but not much.”

  Confusion muddied Rebaa’s thoughts. “You… helped me?”

  “Yes. I sent my chief on the wrong path to find you, but he is cunning and it won’t be long before he picks up your trail.” He gestured to the spear in Rebaa’s hand. “Next time, do not hesitate. It could mean the difference between life and death. Yours and the babe’s.”

  “Why should you care about my life, Cro!” Rebaa spat. “You’ve already sentenced me to almost certain death. Do not pretend to care now!”

  “Oh but I do care.” He half smiled and pointed at the sling. “I suppose I cannot help having an interest in his or her fate.”

  “His,” Rebaa blurted before thinking. Her heart began to race. Interest? Did they guess how dangerous her son might be? “Why would the likes of you have an interest in my baby’s fate, Cro?”

  “You do not know me for who I am, witch. I wasn’t always Hunting Bear. I left my birth clan many years ago after I made a foolish Challenge to my brother.” He waved his crippled hand. “As you no doubt know, Juran was a very formidable warrior.”

  Rebaa gasped as the world turned. “You’re-?”

  “Yes,” he answered the question she could not bring herself to pose. “The babe is of my blood. We are bound. Juran and I may have parted as enemies but he permitted me to escape with my life. I owe him for that. The Hunting Bear adopted me into their ranks as a skilled fighter and hunter and I served their old chief loyally. Murzuk was a hard man but he protected his people, he respected lores. His son… his son he is something else entirely.”

  “He’s a monster,” Rebaa whispered. “He-he killed her. His own mother.”

  The Cro shrugged his good shoulder. “Eldrax is not like ordinary men. Perhaps Murzuk was overly cruel to him or perhaps there is a reason such half breeds were forbidden by the gods, I cannot say. But his mind is broken. He has no compassion, no mercy. Not even for his own people.” The Cro’s grey eyes focused on Rebaa. “I do not wish to see my brother’s babe in his hands-”

  A sound of skittering rocks coming from further up the slopes startled him. Rebaa knew it had been no more than a rabbit but the Cro’s eyes were now fearful and filled with urgency. “Go. Now. And go fast. Do not stop until you reach the safety of the Forests. Eldrax is a monster but it would take a monster greater than him to follow you there.”

  Rebaa hesitated, torn. She hated this man for what he had done and yet this was her beloved Juran’s own brother, blood to her son, lying abandoned and injured. He had helped them-

  “Go!” he shouted at her as loudly as his broken chest would allow. “Do not drop that spear again! Never hesitate. Go!”

  The bite in his voice shook her back to her senses and Rebaa spun on her heel. As she did so, she spotted an object in the snow. The Cro’s own spear. She swooped down on it and tossed it in the direction of the fallen warrior before fleeing down the path that would lead to the copse. Somehow she knew that he wouldn’t throw it at her and now he could use it to rise and support his body. She had thrown him the slimmest of lifelines. Her dept was repaid.

  * * *

  22

  Discovery

  Eldrax remained true to his word. Since dawn, without rest, he and his men had navigated the high paths of the foothills, searching every cave in the rocky crags. Often, the way was barred by snow drifts and they would be forced to forge through or else take a different, more treacherous path. Now the day was waning and they had found no trace of the witch. Like a spirit, she had slipped through his grasp once again.

  Eldrax paused and leaned on his spear. It had been two days since he had slept and the lack of food was beginning to tell through the burning desire that dro
ve him. He considered rest but every time he did, his mother’s black eyes rose tauntingly before him.

  My Eldrax….

  He shook his head. Leave me alone! He could not rest, he would not give her the satisfaction of sleep. He would not allow her to haunt him in the darkness of his mind. Only when he had the witch could he rest and he would have finally defeated her memory. But where was she?

  “Look! Down there!”

  Eldrax’s heart leapt as Naboth, the youngest member of their group, jabbed his spear in the direction of a broad gully far below them. Eldrax whipped his face in the direction Naboth had indicated. Through stinging eyes, he could just make out a dark smear on the landscape at the base of a tree. A low hill rose up beside it in the centre of the gully.

  His heart sank at once. It was not the witch. The object of Naboth’s focus wasn’t moving, it was simply a stain on the landscape but the young hunter’s face was alive with need.

  “A wolf kill?” Naboth started down the slope into the gully, slipping and sliding as he rushed towards the object he had spied.

  “Naboth! Get back here!” Eldrax snapped but, driven by hunger and the possibility of a morsel to eat, the other warrior ignored him. The rest were quick to follow, racing recklessly down the scree hillside, pushing and shoving in an effort to be the first to reach the scraps. Hanak over took the rest, his swift strides eating up the ground. Growling low in his throat, Eldrax had no choice but to follow them. His own stomach snarled at the thought of food and he quickened his pace, rushing to return to the lead.

  Stumbling and skidding, Eldrax finally ground to a halt next to the dark stain. Pebbles and powdered snow swirled about him, carried by the momentum of his long decent. From this vantage point, he could see to the far horizon and the Plains stretching away below. He scanned the distant rolling expanse eagerly, hoping for any sign of a small figure toiling through the snow. Frustration boiled low in his chest when his search came up empty.