“I wanted to ride along with you until your death. When you die, I would have passed on with you, to rejoin Tabeus and my Calpe. I never meant to harm you or those you love. I would have helped you when I could.”
The apparition sounded sincere. And it—he—had helped him. At any rate, he thought it had. But it had also taken control at least once. Vatar licked his dry lips. “Like you helped me with the archery?”
“I’m sorry that frightened you,” the specter said. “But you tried my patience! I was, after all, the second-best archer among my people. Only Tabeus was better. And you could barely hit your own barn.”
Orleus snorted at this. The specter whirled to face him, but sighed and turned away.
“You took control of me. Of course it frightened me,” Vatar said.
The spirit shook its head. “No. I can’t force you to do anything. I don’t have that power.”
Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do, then?”
Taleus shrugged. “It was not unlike the way I can sometimes help you stay calm, as I used to do for Tabeus.”
Vatar blinked. So that calm did come from the voice . . . from Taleus. But what did that have to do with archery? “How’s that?”
“The reason you fail at archery is because you expect to, because you couldn’t master it as a child. That wasn’t your fault. They tried to teach you at the precisely wrong time—for a Fasallon, anyway. Ask Orleus, if you like. I wager he’d never consider training an archer under the age of fifteen. He refused to train Theklan with the bow or the javelin, didn’t he?”
“That’s true,” Orleus said. “Never train anything involving a target farther away than three paces between the ages of ten and fifteen.”
“Why not?” Vatar asked. That was precisely the time Dardani youths were trained to use both the bow and the spear.
Orleus shrugged. “That’s the time a Fasallon youth’s Talents begin to show. It’s not uncommon at that age to experience flashes of Far Sight when you try to concentrate on anything at a distance. It throws off your aim. And sets up bad habits.” He grimaced. “I should have thought of that during our practice sessions.”
Vatar remembered Pa trying to teach him the bow. He had had an unusual sensation every time he looked at the target, like it was moving nearer and then farther away. Squinting hadn’t helped. In the end, he’d just fired as quickly as he could, before the apparent movement could make things worse. His friends, especially Torkaz, had teased him about his aim, but no more than they all chafed Ariad for being the worst rider in their group. He looked up at the specter of Taleus. “So, I learned archery at the wrong time—for me. That doesn’t answer the question. If you didn’t take control, what did you do?”
The apparition smiled. “Thanks to Orleus’s teaching, you’d learned everything you need to be a competent archer. But, even if you weren’t aware of it, you always remembered the taunts of your friends. And then you always did some small thing that made your shot go wide of the mark. I merely quieted that part of your mind so you could do what Orleus had taught you.”
Vatar looked across at Trev again and received another nod of confirmation. “Why didn’t you answer when I asked who you were?”
“Because I thought it would only frighten you more and I didn’t want you to do this.”
Vatar sat back, away from the heat of this response.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Father said. “Why are you still here? Where have you been for six hundred years?”
The specter hovered in the center of the hut, but made no sign of answering Veleus. Trev closed his hand again and the spirit seemed to elongate, like a man standing taller.
“Answer the question,” Trev said.
“When I died, my twin, Tabeus, felt my death.” The specter’s voice sounded strained at first, but gradually steadied. “Through our twin-bond, he bound me to stay. Having nowhere else to go, I clung to the sea dragon that had killed me. But, like many things that Tabeus did, he had made the bond too strong. When he returned and killed the dragon, I was still bound to it. Celeus, our father, and Tabeus, built that islet, stone by stone over the head of the dragon. They, and my wife, Calpe, would come out to the islet regularly to confer with me. In the course of time, they all died. But I was still bound. Over the generations, fewer and fewer came to the islet and less frequently.”
Taleus whirled again until he was facing Vatar once more. “I was beginning to dissipate. Tabeus’s bond was finally breaking, more than five hundred years after his death. Then you came to the islet. One of my lineage and in need—lonely, confused, and afraid. I clung around you, trying to comfort you with my weakened voice. When, at last, you settled yourself and, accidentally, unknowingly, opened yourself to Far Sight, I was drawn into you, as air is drawn into lungs. Because of the power of the blood tie, I found myself bound to you, rather than to the islet.”
“Vatar is of Tabeus’ lineage,” Father said. “Not yours.”
The specter smiled, but made no answer.
Vatar blinked. “That long? You’ve been with me since I was fifteen?”
Taleus nodded.
Vatar shook his head. “I couldn’t be of your lineage. You had no children. Except . . .” He suddenly remembered the voice telling him that Calpe had had twin sons. “Calpe’s sons?”
The specter smiled. “Yes. Calpe was pregnant when I died. She did not agree with the Lie. Although she could not escape it herself, she did not want our sons to be part of it. She bore our sons on the islet, so that I could witness their birth. Then, with my blessing, she took them to be raised among the fishermen. She put their Talents to sleep, so that they could live their lives among the Caereans. Only Tabeus knew about them and he kept the secret for my sake. When they grew, he taught them to work iron and steel. They were the first smiths in Caere. The oldest families in the Smiths’ Guild descend from them and from me. Including yours. That is why I could be bound to you as I was.”
“Why don’t you answer Father’s questions?” Vatar asked.
“I am not bound to answer him. He is not of my blood. He gestured with a misty arm around the arc of the circle from Vatar, through Lucina, Kiara, and finally Arcas. “Only these.” The spectral voice grew colder. “And him.” He gestured over his shoulder towards Trev.
Vatar looked across at Trev, who nodded and shrugged slightly.
He drew a deep breath. “All right, then. What is it you have done? What can you do?”
“I awoke what Calpe had put to sleep, the Talents that came from my side of your lineage and hers. I nurtured the Talents that were dormant in you, so that they blossomed. I gave you calm when you needed it.” Taleus’s spirit shrugged. “And I planted an idea here and there.”
Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “But you led me, sometimes.”
Taleus shook his head. “Sometimes I tried. You didn’t always follow. When you were attacked in the Forest, I was the voice telling you to turn and fight. You ignored me. You refused to kill your attackers. In that, you were better than I.” Taleus smiled faintly. “The strength, the Talent, the loyalty, and the love were always yours. I am dead. I don’t have these things to give you.”
Vatar’s eyes narrowed. “You became stronger after that, though.”
“Yes. Once you began to develop your Talents, you were more open to me. You began to sense my presence when I helped you. But the choice to act was always yours, as it had been in the Forest.”
Trev nodded again. “He tells the truth. He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”
For a moment no one said anything.
Vatar looked across the room at Thekila, who nodded. He swallowed. “Well, you’ve been with me this long. I don’t see any reason to get rid of you, now. One thing, though. We need to work out some kind of signal, so I can tell when it’s you in my thoughts.”
The apparition smiled. “I always whistled when I spoke to Tabeus through our bond. It was our signal.”
Vatar smiled
back. “That works for me. Come back. I bind you to me until my death.”
With an answering smile, the specter flowed back into Vatar.
“May that day be long in coming,” Thekila said.
“It will be,” Vatar answered, smiling across at her.
“Do you know that?” she asked.
Vatar shrugged. “It feels true.”
“To have an ancestor guide you in this way. . . . The Modgud consider it very fortunate indeed,” Trev said.
“I think the Modgud are right,” Vatar said with a smile. “I feel lucky to have had his help.”
“And I think that part of the prophecy is now clear,” Father said. “‘Guided by one forgotten.’”
“Does it matter anymore?” Vatar asked. “The Fasallon who is not a Fasallon has already been revealed.”
Father laughed. “True. But that part of the prophecy has always annoyed me.”
Trev gave a signal and they all stood up and started to file out of the hut.
“Well?” Quetza asked as soon as they stepped up out of the hut into the daylight.
“It’s Taleus,” Vatar said. “And, now that I can be sure, he’s welcome to stay.”
Thekila put her arm around him. “See, I told you you weren’t losing your mind.”
He held her close. “And you were right. Again.”
~
It seemed too soon when Pa and the others prepared to leave again a few days later. Vatar reminded himself that he’d see them at Zeda before long.
Vatar stopped Trev before the shaman mounted his horse. Vatar carried three steel knives, some of his best work. “This one is for you.” Vatar held out a knife with a hilt intricately carved in the shape of a raven.
Trev shook his head. “That’s not necessary, Vatar. I was only doing—”
“I think it is.” Vatar couldn’t suppress a grin. “And Taleus agrees, so you’re outnumbered.”
Trev nodded and accepted the gift.
Vatar handed him the other two knives. Fine work, but plainer. “These two are for Bron and Clev, for helping me in the forest during my Ordeal. Will you see that they get them?”
Trev smiled. “Of course.”
Next, Vatar and Thekila went to Theklan. He was going out to the plains early, much to Kiara’s delight. He hadn’t been completely comfortable in Caere since the kidnapping, insisting on keeping a staff by his bed. Vatar and Thekila agreed he’d be better off away from the city for a while.
Thekila hugged her brother. “Be good. Don’t give Danar and Lucina any trouble, hear?”
The relief on Theklan’s face to be leaving Caere was obvious. “I’ll be good.”
Vatar put his arm around Thekila. “He’ll be fine on the plains.” He looked up at Pa, already mounted. “We should have made him Lion Clan. He has the heart of a warrior.”
“Oh no, it’s much better that he’s Eagle Clan,” Kiara said.
The adult Dardani burst out laughing and Kiara flushed slightly.
What’s funny? Theklan asked Vatar silently.
I’ll tell you later. Vatar answered. It’ll be a few years before we need to worry about it. He clasped arms with Pa. “We’ll see you all at Zeda. Until then, fair skies.”
“Fair skies,” Pa said.
The Dardani filed through the gate and turned their horses towards the plains.
“All right, what was so funny?” Thekila asked.
Vatar chuckled. “If Theklan had been Lion Clan, he and Kiara would be clan brother and sister. Apparently, that’s not the relationship Kiara has in mind. But she’s only thirteen. I wouldn’t worry about it, yet.”
Thekila giggled. “Poor Theklan. No wonder she sticks to him like a bur.” She stood by Vatar’s side, watching the disappearing riders. “Vatar, now that we know about Taleus . . .”
“Yes?”
“Do you suppose he’d mind if we name our next child after him?”
“Our next . . . ?” Vatar spluttered, totally unprepared for this turn of the conversation. “Thekila, you’re not . . .” No, wait. He’d know if that were true. Their bond wasn’t that new anymore. He only knew what Thekila was thinking if she chose to communicate it, but he always knew what she was feeling now. The moment she knew something like that, he would have known it, too. Right now, he got a definite twinkle of mischief through their bond. She shouldn’t tease him about something like that.
“In a year or two, of course,” Thekila said airily.
I would be honored. The voice in Vatar’s head, accompanied by a thin whistling sound, stopped him for a moment. He couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“See, I knew he must be very wise,” Thekila said and laughed, too.
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Excerpt
from
Dual Magics Book 3
Beyond the Prophecy
Coming in 2015
Chapter 1: Ambush
Vatar checked the loads on the pack horses one more time. He and his cousin Arcas agreed to make their annual trading trip out onto the plains as brief as possible this year. Everything seemed to be quiet in the city, now. The upheavals of the late winter were finally settling down to a new, if uneasy, routine. At any rate, the guilds had restored the peace.
He glanced up the line of horses to where Thekila, their infant son held close to her chest in a Dardani-style sling, waited to mount. Vatar was uneasy about taking the baby on such a long journey. Three days across the plains to Zeda. But after the kidnap attempt on his older children just a few months ago—just before Jadar was born, in fact—he would feel even less comfortable leaving them here while he was gone.
Arcas didn’t have a choice in the matter. His wife and baby son had to stay here, since Elaria couldn’t ride at all. Fortunately, his parents had agreed to stay at the farm and look after them while Arcas was gone. Vatar understood why Arcas wouldn’t want to be gone longer than necessary.
Well, the decision was made. Dithering over it wouldn’t get them to Zeda and back any quicker. He gave the girth of the pack saddle a final tug and turned, squaring his shoulders. Time to go. He lifted petite Thekila up into her saddle with a quick kiss and moved on to his horse. Seeing him mounted, Arcas kissed his wife and baby goodbye, thanked his parents again for staying while he was away, and mounted his own horse. They were ready to leave.
Vatar’s half-brother Orleus maneuvered his horse closer to Vatar’s and passed four-year-old Savara across to ride with her father. Savara’s twin, Zavar, was perfectly happy perched in front of Thekila’s friend, Quetza. It was good that the twins were getting big. Before long, they’d be ready to ride on their own.
Orleus’s two hunting dogs were already flanking his horse. Vatar whistled up the three herding dogs he’d selected for this trip and nudged his horse into a walk, leading the small group toward the plains and Zeda.
As soon as they passed the last of the outlying farms, Vatar instinctively began to scan their surroundings. They were on the plains, now. He wouldn’t expect many predators this close to Caere, but it paid to be careful anyway. He knew Arcas was doing the same thing. Probably Orleus, too, in his own way. Even Quetza looked more alert, despite the distraction of Zavar riding in front of her.
They hadn’t gone far before Vatar twitched his shoulders against the prickly feeling that usually presaged danger of some kind. He looked back along their little column. Orleus stared off in the direction of a small copse of scrubby trees not far off their path, eyes narrowed. Vatar followed his gaze. The tall grasses swayed, but not with the wind.
“Is that a lion?” Orleus asked.
“No,” Vatar and Arcas answered simultaneously.
“I wouldn’t have to wait to see the movement to know if it was a lion,” Arcas added. “The only lions nearby are in the opp
osite direction.”
Vatar nodded.
Orleus continued to watch the movement of the grasses. “Well, it’s not the wind.”
Thekila stopped her horse and turned her eyes skyward, tracking an eagle circling high above. Using her connection to the Spirit of the Eagle, she looked at the grassland through the bird’s eyes. She shared what she saw with Vatar through their bond.
Vatar drew in his breath sharply. Not any kind of predator. Seven—no, eight—men crept towards them, four on each side, swords drawn. “Ambush!” Eight against five—four, really, since Thekila knew nothing of fighting on horseback. Not that she was helpless, by any means. At least they were mounted against men on foot. That would give them some advantage.
He reined his horse in close to Thekila’s and pulled his spear out of its sheath, glad he’d refitted it with a longer shaft for this trip. He’d need both hands to use it properly. Vatar lifted a squirming Savara and set her before Thekila. Protecting her and the children was the first priority. “Everybody, keep together.”
The Dardani herd dogs barked a late warning and would have run into the grass. Vatar whistled them back and gave them the command to guard. There was only one more layer of protection at his disposal. Vatar cast his magical shield to protect Thekila, Quetza, and the children as the first of the attackers stood up and rushed towards them. He heard the sounds of battle as Arcas and Orleus met the assailants on the other side.
The first man bounced off Vatar’s shield. Vatar lowered his spear point and spurred his horse forward, taking the man in the chest before he had time to catch his balance. Vatar reined his horse around to face the next enemy. The man had gotten close enough to strike upward with his sword. Vatar parried the stroke with his spear, but froze at a wash of fear from Thekila. Had his shield failed to protect her and the children? He wavered for an instant between dealing with his opponent or turning to protect his family. While he hesitated, the man drew his sword back for another blow. Vatar swerved his horse out of the way and then swung his spear point across his attacker’s throat. He swallowed his fear as he started to turn toward Thekila.
The Voice of Prophecy (Dual Magics Book 2) Page 35
