“Tell us what happened,” Zilus said, “from the beginning.”
She waited until they were seated, then let go of Marek’s hand. He meant it to give her strength and support, but she needed to be seen as strong on her own if they were to trust her story. He stood behind her outside the Council circle to listen.
She told them everything, fighting to keep her voice steady and the words in the right order. She wanted to hop on the fastest pony and charge through the forest until she arrived home. The Descendants could be on the verge of an invasion as she spoke.
The Council members shook their heads and wept to hear of Skaris’s attempt on her life, then Razvin’s betrayal and death. They shuddered at Rhia’s account of the Descendant’s brutality.
“We have to warn Asermos,” she concluded.
“Of course,” Zilus said. “I can send a message right now. Does your village have any third-phase Hawks?”
“No. Galen has only one son, and he doesn’t yet—” She stopped. Arcas may have found another woman in her absence. “It’s possible. Try.”
Zilus unfocused his eyes and slipped into a trance state so quickly it startled Rhia. He had done it without drum or rattle or so much as a word of chant. Within a few breaths he lifted his hands as if he were reaching out in the dark to find his way. They searched the air in front of him and finally hovered, both palms facing one direction.
“I feel Galen’s mind,” Zilus murmured. After a few moments, his hands lowered. “But he cannot hear me. I’m sorry.”
Rhia regretted the relief that tinged her disappointment. “I’ll go ahead to warn them, if I may borrow a pony. The rest can come later.”
“The rest of what?” Zilus asked.
“The rest of the people who are coming. To help them.” She wondered at her choice of words. Which village was her home? “To help us.”
“Help you how?”
“Help us fight, of course.” She scanned the Council members’ dubious faces. Would they refuse to lend aid? She turned to Marek for support. He wasn’t there. She spun in a circle, thinking he had shifted his position, but he was gone.
“Where’s Marek?” she asked Coranna.
Everyone looked around but no one remembered seeing him leave.
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Zilus said to Rhia. “You want us to send our own forces, those who are sworn to protect Kalindos, to fight for your village?”
“Please…” she sputtered, searching her mind for a convincing argument. She had to make them help. She threw a desperate glance at Coranna, who nodded in sympathy.
One of the other male elders spoke up. “Asermos is large and strong. We’re not. How much help could we be?”
Rhia found her voice. “We need every man and woman, every bit of magic we can get. It still might not be enough, with their bigger army and knowledge of our powers.”
“But if we go to Asermos,” Kerza said, “who will defend Kalindos?”
“The Descendants won’t come here. It’s too far, and you have nothing they want. Besides, that was part of the deal they made with Razvin.”
“Razvin’s dead,” Zilus said bitterly.
“The leaders don’t know that,” Coranna pointed out, “and I doubt that soldier would admit to murdering their main informant.”
Kerza gestured toward the southwest, in the direction of Rhia’s home. “If the Descendants invade Asermos, why should they stop there? They’ll be here next.”
“Only if they win,” Rhia said. “If we defeat them they may give up. And if we can’t defeat them there, how can you do it here?”
Zilus shook his head. “Even in peace Kalindos needs every person it has.”
“If we join you and lose,” the first elder said, “the Descendants will enslave us as well. If we stay out of it—”
“If you stay out of it,” Rhia retorted, “Asermos will remember how you weakened our friendship.”
“If it were the other way around, would your village come to our rescue?” Kerza asked her.
“In a heartbeat.”
“You can spare the fighters,” Zilus said. “We can’t. To defend your people would cost us too much.”
“Not to defend us could cost you everything.” She wanted to shake him, shake them all. “Why can’t you see? They’re not my people, they’re our people. The Spirits brought us together, never to be separated.”
“What about the other villages?” he said, “Tiros and Velekos? They’re larger than we are. They can help you more.”
“They may be too far away to help in time,” Coranna said.
“Besides,” Rhia added, “a Kalindon betrayed us. The rest of you should pay Razvin’s debt.”
Now Kerza was angry. “He hurt us, too. He had Etar killed, remember?”
“If you help defend us,” Rhia said as softly as she could, “then your brother won’t have died in vain.”
“I think it’s time we take a vote,” Zilus said. “We owe you an immediate decision, if nothing else, so that you may depart right away.”
As the five Council members murmured procedural matters amongst themselves for a few moments, Rhia scanned the surrounding forest for signs of Marek. Why would he have left when she most needed his support?
The vote was taken quickly: Four to one against sending military aid to Asermos, with Coranna the lone dissenter.
“You may take your pick of horses to ride back to Asermos,” Zilus said to a stunned Rhia, “and we will give you supplies for the journey. But you’ll go alone.”
“No, she won’t.”
Alanka stood outside the circle of stones. She stepped forward, hunting knife in one hand and something gray and furry in the other—the tail of the wolf who had saved Rhia’s life. Alanka stood by her side and faced the Council.
“My father has shamed us all.” Her voice caught, then steadied. “We shouldn’t compound that shame with our cowardice.” She turned to Rhia. “I’ll go with you, sister. I’ll fight for you and for my brothers, and I will bring honor back to the name of Kalindos.” She glared at the Council members and said no more.
Rhia took her hand, and together they left the circle.
33
“First we need to find Marek,” Rhia said when she and Alanka were out of earshot of the Council members. “He’ll want to come along.” At least, she hoped he would.
“Where is he?” Alanka’s voice was still leaden.
“He disappeared while I was telling everyone what happened. The sun hasn’t set, so he didn’t vanish. He left.”
“Why?”
Rhia stopped to think. Had he abandoned her, knowing she would ask him to accompany her to Asermos? Had his former cowardice returned? Where was the protectiveness he had shown when Skaris and his friends had tried to make her drink—
“I know where he is.” Rhia took off.
Alanka followed her to Skaris’s house, which held an eerie quiet for a midafternoon. The blue flag was gone, and so was the guard assigned to keep watch over the prisoner.
Rhia gripped the ladder, which was made completely of wood, more stable than a rope ladder.
Alanka stopped her. “You can’t climb with that shoulder.”
“I have to see.” She went up a few rungs, using her right hand only to steady her, not to pull.
Alanka sighed. “Then I’m right behind you.”
Rhia climbed faster than she ever had before, and swallowed hard when she saw spots of dried blood on the highest rungs. When they reached Skaris’s porch, the door was slightly ajar. Rhia pushed it open.
Skaris’s guard lay sprawled on the floor, moaning from a blow to the back of his head. The table was overturned, and the two chairs lay scattered and broken.
Alanka knelt beside the guard. “What happened?”
“Gone,” he whispered. “They’re both gone.”
Rhia and Alanka packed little, and in less than an hour, they were ready to depart. Rhia wanted to wait for Marek, but knew that every mome
nt could be crucial in Asermos’s preparation for war. Another villager reported seeing Skaris running away, with Marek in pursuit, unarmed. Zilus ordered three Cougars to find them and bring them both home alive.
Rhia waited beside the dark bay pony while Elora fit her shoulder with a sling. Coranna approached with a collection of herbs in a jar.
“Be careful not to break it,” she told Rhia. “They will prove useful when…” Her voice trailed off.
“When people start to die. Thank you.”
Coranna placed the jar in Rhia’s pack and leaned close. “I’ll keep fighting. Maybe I can change the Council’s mind.”
“I hope so. I can’t do this without you.”
“You’re ready for whatever comes. Crow chose well when He selected you.” She put her hand to Rhia’s cheek. “Always have faith in the Spirits. It can’t hurt, and sometimes it’s the only thing that can save you.”
Rhia embraced her for the first time, wishing she had never doubted her mentor. Coranna smelled like a heady mixture of all of her herbs and potions.
She helped Rhia onto the pony’s back, then turned to Alanka, who approached with her bow and a full quiver of arrows. “Take care of her,” she instructed the girl, “even if she won’t let you.”
“I promise.” Alanka’s face looked older and more drawn than before. She mounted behind Rhia, who reached down and grasped Coranna’s arm.
“Send Marek as soon as he returns.”
Coranna’s expression clouded. “Rhia, if he has hurt Skaris, he won’t be free to leave Kalindos. And even if he’s free, he may not come. He’s been…unreliable before.”
Rhia shook the doubt from her mind. “He’ll come.”
“Remember, a Wolf’s first duty is to protect his home.”
“Exactly,” Rhia said. “I’m his home.”
She wheeled the pony away, kicked him into a canter and left Kalindos far behind.
They stopped just before nightfall to make camp. Without speaking, Rhia cared for the pony while Alanka built a fire and assembled a dinner from the food brought from Kalindos.
“Wait.” Alanka held out her hand as Rhia was about to take the first bite. “I need you to do something.” She slipped her hunting knife out of her boot and handed it to Rhia, then pulled her braid taut.
“Cut it very, very short,” Alanka said.
Rhia stood and wiped the blade on her trousers, though she knew Alanka kept it spotless. She eased her arm from the sling and carefully straightened it—sore, but well enough for the task. She moved behind Alanka to grasp the thick, soft braid.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Can’t imagine it’s very complicated,” Alanka said.
As the blade slipped through the rope of black hair, Rhia said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The words sounded empty, though the sentiment could not have been truer.
“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Alanka felt her remaining hair, which swept past the tops of her ears. “Cut more.”
Rhia obeyed, slicing more and more hair until Alanka let her stop. It was even shorter than Marek’s was when she first met him, the length not much more than a finger’s width.
Alanka passed a hand over her scalp. “It will be much cooler. I hear summers are hot in Asermos.”
“Some days are. The river makes it humid.”
“Are there a lot of mosquitoes?”
“Not as many as in Kalindos.” She laid the braid on the log next to Alanka and sat down. “Ticks are worse—the little ones are hard to find and can make you sick. One of our hounds died last year from a disease carried by ticks.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Yes. Fleas are bad, too, but garlic helps.” Were they really talking about bugs and the weather, after what had happened? “Would you like to eat now?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Me, neither.” Rhia contemplated her food. “My whole life, no matter what happened, I’ve never lost my appetite.”
“I saw the blood.”
Rhia looked up at Alanka’s face, shadowed now by the trees and not her hair. “What blood?”
“By the river, where my father died.” Her voice was a monotone. “I saw the blood and bits of red fur and—other things near the wolf’s body.” She hugged her knees and began to rock herself gently. “I wonder at the last moment, if his thoughts were a fox’s—if he felt only the instinct to survive and take care of himself—or if he thought of me.”
“He always thought of you.” She laid her hand on Alanka’s knee. “You were his world.”
A single tear rolled down the girl’s cheek. “Now whose world am I?”
Rhia let Alanka rest her head against her shoulder. Her sister shuddered with grief, but her eyes released no more tears. Rhia did not dare cry for Marek in front of Alanka, since the two losses could not be compared. Yet the void of fear inside her gaped bigger than any she could remember, and it threatened to swallow her whole.
The next day they made good time. The mare’s speed was hardly blinding, but she possessed excellent stamina. Rhia figured that if the weather held, they should reach Asermos late the following day. She hadn’t realized until now how close the two villages were; the place of Bestowing must have required a significant detour.
Unaccustomed to riding long distances, Alanka climbed onto the pony’s back with stiffness and reluctance on the final morning. Rhia gave her some of the pain-relieving herbs Coranna had packed for her aching shoulder. Even the pony was weary, so for the sake of all, she set a more relaxed pace.
Yet she squirmed with impatience at the thought of the approaching Descendants. Would Razvin’s murderer report that she had overheard and escaped? If so, they might attack sooner. If not—if the soldier hid his blunder for fear of punishment—Asermos would have the advantage.
Alanka twisted her body in an attempt to stretch. “I’d be happy never to ride another horse again.”
Rhia risked a light laugh, the first since they had left. “It’s hard to get around Asermos without one.”
“I can probably walk farther than I can ride. And this painkiller is making me sleepy.” She sagged and let her legs dangle loosely around the horse’s flanks. “You think our brothers will like me?”
“They’ll like tormenting you. The trick is not to let them see you mad.” She remembered that one of them would be different when they arrived. “I wonder which is going to be a father, and with what woman?”
“Do they have mates?”
“Nilo, not that I know of. Lycas liked a Wasp woman named Mali when I left.”
Alanka grunted. “A Wasp woman? Sounds friendly.”
“She’s just what you’d expect—sharp and nasty. But she’s a warrior, like he is.”
They rode in silence for a few moments, then Alanka remarked, “I’ve never been this far from home.”
“You’ve never been to any of the festivals?”
“I wasn’t allowed. Father doesn’t—” she corrected herself with a flinch in her voice “—didn’t care for outsiders. Not during my life, anyway. Obviously he spent time in Asermos when he was younger.”
“Yes.”
After an uncomfortable silence, Alanka said, “It smells different here. Less pine.”
“Wait until you smell the livestock. It’ll knock you out.”
“I can’t wait to meet a dog for the first time. Are they like wolves?”
“Not as much as you’d expect. My family raises wolfhounds, which—sorry—hunt wolves, along with deer and rabbits. They’re bigger than wolves. Their heads come to my waist.”
“How can you afford to feed them?”
“They eat anything. There’s always meat not fit for—”
The pony suddenly leaped sideways with a panicky cry. Rhia grabbed her mane to help keep her seat, nearly pitching onto the ground, where a long black snake recoiled with a hiss. Alanka yelped, and a moment later a thud came from behind Rhia.
She steadied the horse and tur
ned to see the girl lying motionless on the trail.
“Alanka!”
The serpent slithered off into the brush, and Rhia recognized it as a harmless rat snake—harmless to the pony it startled, that is, not to the rider thrown. She slid off the horse and looped her reins around a branch, not trusting the skittish creature to stay put.
As she knelt beside Alanka, the girl’s shoulders began to quiver. She rolled on her back, and Rhia saw that she was laughing, quaking, gulping great lungfuls of air.
“I need a drink,” Alanka said, then burst into another gale of hysterics. Rhia helped her sit up, then rubbed her shaking back until the cackles faded into hiccups. Alanka rested her elbows on her bent knees and put her face in her hands.
“Can you go on?” Rhia asked.
Alanka nodded and wiped her wet eyes. Rhia led her to the pony and gave her a few sips of water.
“I’m sorry,” Alanka said. “That’ll teach me not to relax on horseback.”
The brief spark of humor in her eye reminded Rhia of Razvin. His last moments flashed in her mind, causing her heart to thud with the memory of his anguish and fear. She carefully remounted the pony, hiding her shakiness from Alanka, whom she helped up behind her.
As they neared Asermos, Rhia’s anxiety grew. What would she see when she came out of the trees? Fields in bloom or in ruin? She urged the pony into a canter and felt Alanka tighten her grip.
A meadow lay ahead, to the right of the path, and she heard a sheep’s low bleat at their approach. When they reached the meadow, a young man with long dark hair stood to greet them. Arcas.
Her heart leaped—with delight or trepidation, she couldn’t tell. He shaded his eyes in her direction, then broke into an astonished grin and ran toward her.
“Rhia!”
She slowed the pony and guided her through the scattering sheep. Arcas met her in the center of the field.
“Get your father,” she said, cutting off his greeting. “They’re coming.”
34
Rhia told them everything. Arcas’s face paled at the news, but his father listened with typical stoicism.
Eyes of Crow Page 28
