“The strangers?” Now, it was getting interesting.
“How do you know about that?”
“One of Rebeka’s new bloods sounded the horn.”
“And of course you went to help.”
“Of course.” Falin’s smile was ferocious.
“Then you’ve met them?”
“I saw them, no more. Rebeka doesn’t share with me.”
“No more than you share with her.”
“True.” Sorchia was always even-handed in her criticism of the two women, though Falin had never revealed the cruel depths of the lifelong feud between Rebeka and her. A feud which had come to a head at Summer Solstice when Rebeka was chosen as Chief Scout. Falin had worked hard to earn the right, and she was the better scout. But her uncompromising nature had won her more enemies than friends. Being passed over irked her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
“I’ve spoken with the white-haired girl,” Sorchia continued. “She may be young, but she will grow into a power the likes of which we’ve not seen since the Mothers.”
“That snip of a mouse tail? She’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“Nevertheless, the Mothers have shown her to me in dreams. They want her to claim her destiny.” The priestess gently shook Falin’s arm for emphasis. “And she can lead you to your own.”
Falin yanked her arm away. “Lead me? The meek little rabbit?”
Sorchia sighed. “Don’t be deceived by appearances, proud one. All the same, she will need your strength or she won’t survive.”
Falin sniffed with scorn. Still, despite her sharp words, she remembered the strange sympathy that had washed over her. “Okay,” she relented, “so I’m to help the girl.”
“And the men.”
“The men?”
“Yes.”
“What about the Culling?”
Sorchia shook her head. “She will need the men, too.” The priestess’s eyes bored into Falin’s as if offering something unspoken.
“You’re not telling the other Elders about them?”
“No.” The hard word set Sorchia’s jaw on edge. Unfailingly forthright, Falin had never known Sorchia to lie to the other Elders. The truth of what Sorchia was asking made Falin’s heart pound.
“And so,” Sorchia continued, her gaze wandering down to her hands, “your part in this won’t be discussed. When you leave, they will certainly be upset.”
And think I finally deserted, Falin thought.
Sorchia waited in silence, letting the Huntress come to her own conclusions.
I’d be banished. Forbidden to return. Falin surveyed her possibilities. If she refused to help and stayed with Rebeka and this Council, she’d always be the Outsider, a lowly hunter forever. But if she left with the strangers, she couldn’t begin to guess where she’d end up. New lands sparkled in her imagination.
“If I go, I’d be leaving for good,” Falin said, making sure she understood.
Sorchia clucked softly and embraced her, something she hadn’t done since Falin was small. The Huntress felt some desperation in the gesture. “Only do this if it’s what you want, Falin,” Sorchia whispered.
“Oh, I want this.” Excitement coursed through her. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Sorchia drew back, chagrined at Falin’s enthusiasm. “You must lead the strangers, all of them, through the Thorn Gates.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “The Elders won’t look kindly on this so you should go in secret before sunrise.”
“Secret? But Rebeka and her scouts already know.” The last thing Falin wanted was to leave Sorchia in shame.
“You must perform a false Culling,” Sorchia whispered as if, even though she said them supposedly with the Mothers’ blessing, the words were a sin.
Falin’s heart hammered at the thought of such dangerous subterfuge. She was not as devout as most, but if they caught her lighting a false Culling, they’d slit her throat right there and scatter her ashes in the Outlands. Betrayal and blasphemy would be Falin’s legacy. “Rebeka won’t agree to this.”
“Let me handle, Rebeka. She’s devoted to the Mothers.”
Falin didn’t agree about Rebeka’s devotion but soon it wouldn’t matter. “Where exactly do they need to go, these strangers?”
“Lead them south. Use the Guide’s Prayer if the Thorns get restless. Make sure Cara gets to Iolair safely.”
“Iolair.”
“South to the White Mountains and then east to the pass.”
It was a long way, far past the Thorns. A smile lifted Falin’s lips. “I promise they’ll reach Iolair,” she said, already going over in her mind all she’d need to do before morning.
Sorchia surprised Falin with a sniffle and rose from the bench, her face in shadow. She puttered to the hearth and cleared her throat with a cough. “Well, now that that’s settled, I’m starving.”
Sorchia stirred the rabbit until it was cooked through and then dumped the meat into the vegetable stew as Falin grabbed two clay bowls from a shelf. She filled them with the fragrant stew and handed one to Sorchia along with a spoon. The two women sat on the bench eating the savory meal, each lost in her own thoughts until Falin realized she didn’t want to leave the priestess with this awkwardness between them.
She put down her bowl and fetched the wineskin from the pantry. Pouring the deep purple liquid into two goblets, she shared the bittersweet blackthorn wine with the priestess and then began regaling Sorchia with tales of shame from that morning’s sparring and idle gossip from the smithy. Sorchia recounted familiar tales of what a terror Falin had been as a child. They ate their dinner of rabbit and hoar-nuts with laughter. It was a good last meal together. When Falin finally left, it was with a lingering hug for the only mother she’d ever known, but the outside world beckoned and Falin wasn’t about to turn it down.
EXHAUSTED BUT UNABLE to sleep, Bradan lay on the reed mat and listened to the ghostly whispers that had followed him since they’d entered Foresthaven, women’s voices whose hum drowned out the familiar spirits that had accompanied him from the Standing Stones. He could sense their intent but they were not his kin and so their words were muddled.
Ealea’s absence in particular sharpened his frustration. Although in his mind he knew she’d crossed over, her spirit lingered near, watching over him, easing his sorrow. She was as present in his heart now as when she’d shared his bed.
Now he burned with anger that the Druids could not only take his life but had subverted his power as well. He longed for his wife’s sweet serenity.
When the high priestess had touched his chest, her power had felt so familiar it made his heart ache. Their village, what he had seen of it, reminded him greatly of home. In other circumstances, he might have been struck by the similarities between Bear Clan and Foresthaven rather than railing at the differences. But there was no denying that beyond the bounds of the village, the dark spiny trees hungered for vengeance.
If it weren’t for Cara he might welcome death. But to have lost Ealea and his Clan only to fail the girl as well would be a shame he could not bear. And though Cara had returned with heartening news, the anger that shrouded his heart refused to let him trust it. He rolled over, trying to settle his mind and body.
And then suddenly, a soft voice sang through the night. He heard it not with his ears but as a spirit song of peace that eased his ragged edges. And the weariness and sorrow he kept tied up in knots loosened, like spring’s first deep breath. And with that loosening, his eyes slid shut sending him into the darkness.
There he discovered that he did not truly sleep. He had been summoned. He recognized the Otherworld forest as the one where he’d met Cara not so long ago. Though he didn’t see her now.
A large raven swooped in with a single raucous caw and settled herself on a low branch. Her blue-black feathers gleamed as brightly as the intelligence in her eyes. He knew her.
“Priestess Sorchia,” he said.
“You see truly, Brother.” The raven sound
ed pleased. “Forgive the spell, but we needed to speak in private.”
“What can you have to say to one of ‘my kind,’” he mused with derision.
“Our clans are not as different as you might think,” she said.
“Forgive me if I beg to disagree. We don’t execute travelers.”
The raven shook her feathers with a frustrated flutter. “As I said before, I do not make the Law, and it is not my place to question it. But I did not summon you here to argue. What do you know of the girl?” she asked, hopping further down the branch.
“Cara?”
“Yes, the Mothers whisper to me that she is important.”
“Is that what they are saying?” he murmured, unaware that he had spoken.
“You can hear them?” the raven asked in astonishment.
“I hear whisperings. What they say is not clear to me.”
“It is unprecedented. They do not make themselves known…”
“…to men,” he finished.
“It is a sign,” the raven said, her voice strong and sure. “I am even more sure of my course now.”
He didn’t ask her meaning.
“Tell me what you know of her magic,” the raven said.
“She came to us a few weeks back, a recently freed captive of a sorcerer named Sidonius. She reads thoughts, commands animals with a touch. She also dreamwalks. A strange combination.”
“Yes, in my experience talents do not come mixed.”
“The Old Ones want me to help her but Sidonius will go to great lengths to retrieve her.”
“But Far Islanders do not keep women,” the raven said.
“Yet he kept her for years. Do you know what he wants with her?”
“I get only glimpses. I know he is tainted with an ancient evil, and his attempts to use the girl to rid himself of it have only strengthened its hold on him.”
“So we battle Sidonius and something more.”
“Yes, his life cannot be saved now. You must slay him to return her to her power.”
“The captain may not agree,” Bradan informed her.
“His protective instincts are to our favor. Do not worry; he will not be able to keep her from her true self.”
“I hope you are right,” Bradan said.
“It is decided. My Huntress will take you to Iolair. Trust her, though she is not always kind.”
He bowed to the raven, feeling more hopeful than he had in days. “I thank you for our lives, Sister.”
“We once had men like you to warm our nights, Brother. I wish you well on your journey.”
FALIN RETURNED TO the hut she shared with two other Sisters. She slept until the dark hours and then woke, silently gathering the few possessions she cared about. She strapped on her sword, hid her boot knife, and pulled the small leather bag from beneath her tunic. Inside were her special treasures, each one a token of victory. The most recent was a hunting cat’s claw. It was long and curved and still wickedly sharp. Kissing each one reverently for luck, Falin placed them back into the leather bag and slipped it around her neck under her tunic.
She didn’t dwell on the leave-taking, the Haven held little allure for her now. She didn’t think about how she might miss Sorchia’s guidance. She only thought on what needed to be done, on her responsibility as a shepherd to the rabbit and her three boorish protectors. Throwing a heavy linen cloak over her shoulders, she packed her sleeping roll, cook pot, some rope, a flint, her whetstone, and her bow with a quiver full of black-feathered arrows. Then, she left for the deep darkness of the forest.
After making her preparations, she went to the kitchens and gathered up some food, two packs, three additional bedrolls, as well as waterskins for her new companions. It was still dark when she arrived at the prisoners’ hut. She tucked the packs by the side of the hut before she approached the guard, cursing her luck that it was Rebeka.
“Good morning, Sister,” Falin greeted Rebeka with her hand over her heart, bowing with all the deference her rank deserved.
“So, you can be nice,” Rebeka said with venom.
“And I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“Happy to see you? Never.”
“I’m supposed to relieve you so you can go do important chief scout stuff.”
“Don’t lie to me. Something’s not right. No Culling yet, and it’s almost dawn.”
“There’ll be a Culling,” Falin lied. “Sorchia has it all in hand.”
“And how long are we expected to suffer men beneath the Thorns?” Rebeka snarled her displeasure.
Falin worried that Sorchia wouldn’t be able to keep the scout in hand, but she had to trust the priestess. “Relax. They’ve only been here a little while. No one even noticed them.”
Rebeka stood up quickly. Her tall lankiness so close that Falin had to back up. “Our Laws, our traditions, they’re all a joke to you, aren’t they?”
Falin forced patience as Sorchia had asked. “That’s not true, but there is more to life than rules.”
“You are more Outsider than Sister, aren’t you?”
Rebeka’s words stung more than Falin would admit but now wasn’t the time for a fight. “I’m not your problem anymore.”
As she moved to pass Rebeka, the taller woman’s hand shot out and snagged her arm whirling Falin around. Rebeka stared into her eyes, searching for some half-discovered truth.
“You’re leaving.”
Apparently, Sorchia hadn’t shared the whole plan with Rebeka. Irritated at being trapped in a half-truth, Falin growled, dropping all pretense of camaraderie. “You’ve always said I’m an Outsider.”
“And you always will be.” Rebeka pointed at the door to the hut and leaned close to Falin’s face. “Just make sure you do your job here before you scurry off with your tail between your legs, dandelion.”
Rage flared and Falin’s hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. She checked her anger but only barely. “I’ve always pulled my own weight around here and you know it.”
“That doesn’t make you a Sister. Sorchia was foolish to take you in. It was nothing but wasted charity.”
Falin’s clenched teeth creaked. “You’d better hope you don’t need my charity someday.”
“Hah,” Rebeka barked a short laugh. “Everyone knows you have none, you ungrateful little bitch.”
Falin’s hand flew without thought, her fist slamming painfully into Rebeka’s strong jaw. The other woman, caught by surprise, staggered back onto the bench. Falin froze, stunned by what she had done. Her heart slammed hard against her breastbone; she didn’t want to lose this chance to get outside the Gates.
She offered her hand but the scout angrily slapped it out of the way. Standing on shaky legs, Rebeka rubbed her jaw and flexed it tentatively.
“You better leave before I lay eyes on you again. And if you do come crawling back, I’ll kill you myself.”
Falin pulled herself to her full height though she still had to look up at the other warrior. “I dare you to try.”
“One day I will, dandelion. One day.” Rebeka knocked her with a hard shoulder as she walked past her and around the hut.
Falin shook with anger as the truth of Rebeka’s words burned inside her. It was a long moment before she remembered the task set before her. She clenched her teeth and swallowed whatever feelings were trying to stir.
Falin knew now that none of the other Sisters would have done this for Sorchia. Only an Outsider like me would dare.
She steadied herself with a few soft breaths then crept around the hut to make sure Rebeka had gone. All was quiet. No one was around. She came back to the door, unlatched it, and pushed it softly open. The fire had burned low and only a subtle glow flickered over the sleeping figures in the dirt. She crept inside and just as she began to push the door shut, a heavy weight slammed into her nearly sending her to the dirt.
Her attacker moved behind her, long arms reaching around. Her shoulders shrugged, tucking her chin down instinctively as an arm slid
across, searching for the choke hold. Bringing both hands to the elbow, she held tight and dropped her hips back against her attacker’s body to unbalance them. Cold shock coursed up her spine as she realized her attacker was male.
The man stepped back, twisting away from her. With one arm still across her chest, he pushed down on her far shoulder, tipping her back across his outstretched leg. Losing her balance, Falin heard the dirt calling to her. She twirled in the loose grip of his pushing arm, barely settling her feet below her weight in time, and ducked away from his grasp.
By the time she was free of him, they were standing hip to hip, facing opposite directions. She lifted the leg nearest him and thrust her heel hard into the back of his knee, buckling the leg. At the same time, she jammed her elbow back into his ribs, pushing herself away from him.
Another form straightened up from the deeper shadows, too tall to be the girl. She noted the gleam of a blade on the floor. They had their weapons back already.
Blood must not be spilled or we are all lost, she thought frantically. Before she could turn, the warrior behind her shifted, rebalancing on his knee. She felt his hand latch heavily onto the back of her belt. With an angry grunt, he yanked her from her feet and threw her face first to the ground. Using his heavier bulk, he pinned her with a knee on her lower back, twisting her arm behind her.
“What do you want?” His whisper was harsh, angry. The hand on her wrist clamped tight. Boots came into view as the other man came to stand near.
Anger swelled inside her, a violence born of shame that desired nothing less than blood. But she had promised Sorchia to shepherd them and so she swallowed it down.
“Get off me, you great thorny ass,” she growled. “I’m your guide, and we don’t have time for this.”
After a moment’s pause, the weight across her back lifted, and he released her wrist. As he was getting to his feet, spite flared in her chest. She rolled to her back and swept his legs out from under him, dumping him unceremoniously on the hard ground. Then she rolled gracefully to her feet and brushed the dirt from her clothes. In the low torchlight, she recognized those blue eyes.
Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1) Page 19
