The sun rose. Empty, always empty. She rocked back and forth over her belly. A tear slid down her cheek, slow as a long, suffering death. She had become a swollen river on one side of a flimsy dam with the crowharrow on the other, so terrible and fair...
She got up and strode quickly towards the hall.
With the stealth of heartache, she crept through the corridors in the direction of the rear gate. Caelfar would know the moment she crossed the invisible barrier he had cast to keep the crowharrow out. But the wizard hadn’t been able to leave the circle in the forest that day, even after she had fled beyond it. He had referred to this spell in the same way—so he must have to stay inside to maintain it. He would see her leave, but he wouldn’t be able to come after her.
She quickened her pace.
As Tansel neared the kitchens, she heard voices and smelled baking bread, frying sausage and apples. But her mind didn’t linger there. She moved on until she reached a courtyard draped in clematis. On the far side, a short passage led to the hall’s rear entrance.
A horse stood tethered by the gates. It was very fine, white as frost. Tansel stopped and hid behind a wall. The horse was laden with the trappings of a long journey. Tansel drew back with a start as Sigen’s brother Acar came into view, accompanied by his son.
“Careful with him, laddie,” Acar said. “He belongs to a wizard.”
“I want to touch him,” said a small voice.
“Easy now.” Hooves clopped as they led the horse away.
“Da, why is the wizard here?” asked the boy. Tansel couldn’t make out the reply.
With a thumping heart and heat in her cheeks, she leaned around and looked back down the corridor. As deeply as her need had driven her here, she now doubted her resolve. Had the Ravens arrived? Only one horse, but another might have gone in already. If they had arrived, she may not get far. She pictured the black-haired wizard pushing the hood from his face and regarding her with the darkness of his power.
She broke past the open gate and into the shimmering forest. Beyond the walls, she felt naked, exposed, and free; her blood pumped wildly in her veins and the sun and wind touched her in a way they never had before. She didn’t look back as she melted into the green.
Remember your mother, the warrior-wizard had said.
Tansel did. She ran.
*
Aradia was in the garden when she heard her grandfather’s bellowing cry. It was the interdimensional cry of a high wizard and she didn’t need to feel the ground shake or see the light swords from the Waeltower bend as if stretching under a strain to know that Tansel had slipped from his grasp.
Aradia, too, was a daughter of wizards.
She hobbled down the garden path until she reached Tansel’s room. The bed hadn’t been slept in. Foolish girl! Hanging day and night beneath that accursed crag, pining for her own demise! Aradia hadn’t been able to talk one stitch of sense or reason into her. She had given up trying.
She moved up the stairs and into the hall. Shouts rang out at the far end, around the corner. Aradia went in the opposite direction, her desperation giving her strength. She ground her teeth in frustration. If she still had her powers, she would be outside the walls by now.
Aradia had learned a great deal from the animal kingdom, including the skills of moving quietly and remaining unseen. She had learned how to endure pain and sickness, to survive. When she reached the rear gate of the hall, she slipped into the forest with no more notice than a rat would have gained.
Unfortunately, Aradia soon realized the shortcomings of her experience. Weakened by not having been focused as a human very often, she found it painful to get around; the ground cut her feet, the trees tore her hands, and her hair caught in brush and low-hanging boughs. Her senses of sight, hearing and smell were all but useless. She tried to track Tansel, to find signs that she had passed, but she didn’t know how; as an animal, she hadn’t needed to do things as a human would. Before long, she had to stop and rest. She leaned against a tree, breathing heavily, trembling with exhaustion.
Shortly thereafter, she got up, stumbled around, and sat back down in despair. Love alone didn’t give her the power to affect this situation. She had hoped the crowharrow would find her out here so she could distract him somehow, maybe even die at his hands and bring Tansel to her senses thereby. For all she knew, the crowharrow had already killed her niece and vanished into the inner realms until another day. But if the crowharrow had come upon Tansel, she would have screamed and Aradia would certainly have heard that. A sickening thought.
Keep moving, she told herself. Don’t give up. A tear sprang into her eye. That it should come to this! Ana, and now Tansel. Aradia tripped on the root of an enormous willow tree and fell to her hands and knees. She still heard her grandfather’s thundering voice in her mind. Her first thought is always to run, to escape protection and you’d have preyed on that like a wolf!
“Old fool,” she choked to the empty air. “Who protected her all those years? Not you!” Aradia curled into a fetal position into the hollow between the willow roots. The damp ground soaked through her clothes. “Maern,” she breathed, her throat closing up with anguish. “Please help me! My mistrust has undone us all...”
Her breath caught as hoof beats pounded the forest floor. A young man rode through the trees on a beautiful white horse. He had pale blond hair and a Keeper’s cloak of cerulean blue. High wizard, Order of Osprey. Aradia had never heard of one so young, that high. She managed to get her back against the willow tree as he thundered up to her, his dark eyes wild.
“Help?” she pleaded. She would never have imagined saying this to a man before today. “My niece is in terrible danger.”
“You mean Tansel?” he returned.
She nodded. “I am Aradia, her aunt.”
“I am Freil. I came to find her.”
“Aye,” Aradia said, fearing he would leave her here. “I can help.”
He reached down. “Come, then.”
Aradia got up and grasped his arm, then yelped as he lifted her with smooth, powerful ease into the saddle behind him.
“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder.
“She is under a crowharrow’s spell,” Aradia said against the young wizard’s back. He smelled of leather and crushed leaves. Her teeth rattled in her head as the horse moved over the uneven terrain.
“Is she marked?”
Aradia hesitated. She didn’t know if the Old One still protected Tansel, but she did know what the crowharrow wanted. “He has seduced her.”
He did not respond. He rode on— —and then stopped, in a great, wrenching blast of hooves, arms and legs that threw Aradia from the saddle and into a thicket. The white horse screamed and ran into the woods. Nearby, the Keeper shouted something in the wizards’ tongue. Aradia peered up through a daze—and then flattened her belly to the ground.
The crowharrow rose between the gray trees. Tansel lay at his feet in a familiar lavender dress, unconscious or dead, Aradia couldn’t tell. The young wizard circled the winged hunter, talking spells and absurdities. With a roar, the immortal hunter raised his clawed hand for a killing blow.
Aradia jumped up. “Leave off you old crow! You can’t take him!”
The crowharrow hesitated, lowered a chasm gaze on her, took a step in her direction and spoke something in his ancient language that sounded like a moving snake’s nest.
“Your crooked sex will never know Tansel,” she spat, brandishing her chest at him in a fighting crouch. She cried the next mad nonsense that came to mind as one who knew she had only a brief time to live. “The Aenmos’ son has already claimed her! Hah!” She croaked a laugh as flat as a pan.
That had the desired effect: the crowharrow vanished.
Aradia wept. “Aye, you rogue! Go back to your stinking—”
Her breath caught as the winged hunter appeared over her in a towering storm of rage. He smelled like lust and dirt.
His hand closed over her throat like an iron
clamp.
Forgive me, Mother.
The last thing Aradia saw before darkness fell was the swift, falling arc of fangs.
*
Eaglin and Lorth rode in a brisk but careful pace through the depths of Loralin Forest. The songs of birds filled the wood. Early morning sunlight shone in slanted beams through new leaves and into hollows of ferns and trickling streams cradled by patches of wild violets, wood sorrel and trout lilies.
Since they had left the stream the morning before, Lorth had withdrawn like a wounded wolf into a cave. As they entered a small glade, he stopped is mount, sat in his saddle and gazed into the shadows. “I need a rest.”
Eaglin recognized the landscape from when he had projected here and seen the sioros for the first time. “We should stay on,” he suggested. “Muin is only an hour from here, maybe two.”
The hunter ignored him and dismounted.
Against his better sense, Eaglin did the same. He opened up a saddlebag and reached for his water skin, then hesitated as the hairs on his neck rose. Sefae spooked and bolted, ripping the bag from his hand. “Damn it!” He turned, but didn’t react fast enough before Lorth kicked his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt as pain shot out from his hurts. He rolled aside and up, ducked a well-aimed blow, and then threw a kick at Lorth’s chest that knocked him into a marshy spot with a splash. As Eaglin rallied his wits for the next attack, he tripped on a pile of stones that sent him sprawling.
Lorth was on him in an instant. The hunter leaned down over the length of his body like a panther about to feed. “You’d make a lousy assassin,” he said quietly.
“I can put you down on my worst day, you bastard,” Eaglin returned, relaxing as his gaze rested on the voidstone at the hunter’s throat.
“You could. But you won’t.”
A short time later, Eaglin rolled over with a groan. Lorth shook with laughter, his face flushed and his brow and chest glistening with sweat. Their clothes were scattered around them like casualties on a battlefield.
“By the Eye, we’d best go,” Eaglin rasped.
Lorth rolled into a sitting position. “You’re the one who promised Caelfar we’d be there in a bloody fortnight.” He felt around in the matted ferns. “What did you do with the voidstone?”
“You don’t remember? I shoved it up your—”
“Be nice.” The hunter felt on the ground by his thigh and pulled up the leather cord with the green-black stone on it. He shook his head. “Accursed thing.”
“You had to put it on,” Eaglin sang. “Idgit.”
Lorth tossed the stone. It landed on a fern, bending it over in an emerald arc. He got up and yanked his leggings up over his hips, then stretched his back and leaned over to retrieve a saddlebag. As he stood up again, he froze.
So did Eaglin. Their gazes locked.
“Not good,” Lorth said.
Eaglin snatched up his clothes and scrambled to his feet. “Clear your mind.”
A chasm of turbulent energy opened around them. Deep red lines in intricate patterns swirled and sang with power. Eaglin breathed steadily to clear his thoughts as the air shimmered into a familiar form. “Masters!” Caelfar boomed, glowing like a moon. “Where...” Pausing, he glanced around.
Lorth dragged a shirt over his head.
Shit, Eaglin swore inwardly. He moved his hands and spoke a nasty command that dissipated Caelfar’s apparition before he had a chance to discern their situation, but as the wind picked up in the trees, it became clear the old Raven had done that very quickly.
You have the VOIDSTONE? he razed into their minds. Eaglin swayed on his feet with the force of the wizard’s mind-voice. It sounded like the entire forest speaking. You imbeciles! My daughters are outside the gates at the sioros’ mercy and you’re easing your lust?
Eaglin gathered himself with a breath. Relax, Caelfar. We’ll find them.
Find Freil while you’re at it! he yelled. And when your father hears of this— Eaglin closed the mindspeak connection. “Hollow threat, that,” he muttered.
“Och! he’s furious,” Lorth said, holding his head. “What was he talking about, finding Freil? He should be in Eyrie.”
“He’d better be.”
They gathered their things, retrieved their horses and headed out like thieves into the forest, no lust or amusement to warm their hearts. They created a net in their minds that included a wide swath of the land around them. They saw Tansel on the grid almost at once, a glimmering green aura of terror and sadness. She fled away, and neither their power combined nor even the Dark Tongue could penetrate the darkness into which she passed.
The same darkness cloaked Aradia.
Freil, though distant, had a different air around him, as if he were protecting himself. Sick with foreboding, Eaglin dropped into his heart and spoke the young wizard’s name from a known place. A familiar bright shock of fresh light flared out, then vanished.
“I found him. He’s here.”
Lorth’s expression darkened. “I thought you were rather specific about his not journeying here. He must have ridden out on our heels.”
“Close to it. We’ve lost a lot of time.”
Before long, they spotted Freil’s horse Gwyrhr standing near a body on the ground. The stallion looked up and stepped back in agitation as the two men leapt from their mounts in mid-stride and ran to Freil’s side. “Seat mor streac Maern,” Eaglin panted as he rolled the young wizard over. His mouth was bloody. “Ah, laddie.” He found a pulse, and then passed a hand over Freil’s forehead, slowly. “He’s unfocused.” His heart thumped wildly with consternation.
“What in the name of Maern is he doing out here?” Lorth breathed.
“Caelfar knew. He must have sent him out after Tansel.”
Lorth rose and began to inspect the area. After a moment, he barked a call and knelt over something. He lifted it up and returned carrying Aradia. Eaglin let Freil down and stood up to inspect her. Her throat was bruised and her arms torn with claw marks. On one side of her neck, a ghastly bite oozed blood.
“She’s alive,” the hunter said. “Barely.”
Eaglin spread his hand over the bite and opened his heart to the Old One’s realms with a word. He pulled back as a hollow, spiky force gnawed over his palm. “I had come to believe Maern protected Aradia. But this...”
“Sioros would have shredded her, otherwise.”
“This is worse. And just as fatal, in the end.”
“How so?”
“Sioros bite. He’ll bring her between, to the Otherworld. There, he’ll kill her. Slowly.” He returned to Freil and glanced around. “Do you see anything else?”
The hunter laid the crone next to Freil. Then he moved around the clearing and scanned the ground and trees for signs. He knelt. “The sioros was here.” He moved his hand, then reached over a fallen branch and pulled something from it. “Tansel’s?”
Eaglin drew near. A strand of hair. Eaglin took it and held it up to the sunlight. It was curly, reddish; deeper down, he recognized an identity pattern. “I’d say so.”
The voices of men rang out in the forest. Lorth stood up. “Search party.” He released a piercing whistle to get their attention, and then fetched Gwyrhr. He spoke softly to the beast, to calm him.
“Tansel is mortal,” Eaglin said. “The sioros can’t move between dimensions with her. But I have a very bad feeling about this. He must have taken to the air.”
Lorth nodded. “That’s why we felt her move away.” He held the stallion’s reins in thought for a moment, and then his mien flooded with trouble. “The sioros probably saw these events from above the grid, Eaglin. He had to’ve known Tansel would flee the hall, if nothing else.”
A prickle touched Eaglin’s gut. “What are you saying?”
“What if the only reason he let you keep the voidstone is because he knew it would distract us?”
As Eaglin recalled the sudden, almost cavalier poise with which the sioros refused to exchange the vo
idstone for Tansel, all the strength and light drained from his limbs.
The immortal hunter had just tricked him for the second time.
The Albatross
The sun had set into the gray ridge of a coming storm as Eaglin and Lorth strode with heavy gaits towards the Waeltower of Muin. They had placed Aradia and Freil in the care of a healer named Geira who belonged to the Order of Wren, Keepers of the Crafts who worked their skills in service to Eyrie with root, leaf, seed and bark. Under her care, Freil was still unconscious but intact, only sleeping. Aradia, on the other hand, couldn’t be found by the arts of any healer or wizard.
Caelfar had blown into the healing chambers like a cyclone, too upset even to question them once he had learned Tansel had been taken by the sioros and Aradia now lay in the immortal’s domain. The old Raven would have returned to his tower without explaining what Freil was doing here, either, had Eaglin not demanded an answer. Upon his arrival, Freil learned from a stable hand that Tansel had escaped and, pausing only to remove his gear from his horse, went after her. But Caelfar didn’t know why the young wizard had come. He never got the chance to find out.
Exhausted, Eaglin and Lorth had slept the remainder of the day. One of Caelfar’s staff, a reserved but alert man named Sigen, had awaked Eaglin with a summons long before he had replenished his weary limbs.
As he and Lorth followed their messenger into the corridor that led to the tower, Lorth said, “Have you contacted Eyrie?”
“Freil told them we were expecting him.”
Lorth snorted. “He’d better have a good reason for doing that.”
“Don’t count on it. Whatever his reason for coming here, I doubt it’s anything he couldn’t have told us in mindspeak, or as an apparition.”
Through the opening of the tower antechamber stood a red oak door carved into intricate geometric patterns of grapes and vines humming with the energy of the Waeltower. A watch-web held the portal in an iron grip. As the men approached, it weakened and shimmered into the stones. Sigen opened the door, bowed respectfully and then hurried away as if to avoid trouble. Eaglin watched him vanish into the shadows.
The Winged Hunter Page 15
