“For better or worse, Tad, yes — Terrans rarely carry such sidearms.”
“I have heard,” Rai interjected quietly, without raising her dark eyes from her dish, “that Terrans prefer to kill without watching their enemies die. Does that not lead them to devalue life?”
“As I said, it may be for the better — or for the worse.”
Sy glanced at her briefly. “And yourself?”
“Di’nay is from a planet much as ours,” Elana said quickly. She was not prepared to have her Amazon compromise her Imperial or ethical responsibilities. “They frequently differ with the Empire’s policies and value independence.”
Sy nodded, apparently satisfied. “So you do handle a sword well?”
“Well enough.”
His bushy brows raised at the non-committal response and he turned to his daughter. “And you? What do you think of her sword arm?”
Elana smiled proudly. “I have not seen Di’nay fight, Papa, only draw. Di’nay wields a full length with one arm and good balance. I am sure the rumor of the scuffle in Colmar the other night was not an exaggeration.”
“And what was the rumor?” Sy prodded.
“Di’nay bested a man nearly twice the weight in short time. Di’nay has a reputation for being short-tempered.”
“Naturally,” Rai said from Elana’s far side, “the brown skin would only add to that perception.”
Diana had never thought of it in that light. She had often casually remarked it was ‘just the way’ of the southern people when asked by Maryl or Pel about her skin tone. But that may well have affirmed their opinions of her hot-headedness.
“What is your explanation?” Elana prompted Di’nay with a touch of mischief.
“I would prefer swords to a wrestling match.” She glanced around the table self-consciously. “I would not want my tunic torn — ”
“Aye!” Sy hit the table and rattled the dishes. “She uses her head! Have I got a gift for you, Lass!”
Astonished, Diana started to object, but Sy was already gone from the room. She could not afford to leave her own sword of Terran metals here or any place else.
Elana turned to her mother. “I do not understand. He surely knows of the Terran alloys?”
Rai patted her hand and met Di’nay’s worried gaze. “He has worked hard on this piece, Di’nay. I would beg you to look before deciding. I suspect it will not compromise your allegiance.”
“But if he has labored so, there must be a worthy buyer who — ”
“No buyers!” he shouted sternly. He came with a long sword in hand. It was wrapped generously in soft chamois, its hilt barely visible. “There is not a man of Aggar I would sell, give or trade this to.”
“But so valuable a piece — how could I — ”
Elana’s hand closed over hers. “Why Di’nay, Papa?”
“Because….” He drew a breath with effort and his skin flushed brown. “Because you are my daughter’s Shadowmate.” He gazed at them both proudly. “Long ago, before Rai and I departed the Keep, there was a Seer. A very old man, Ona, who died shortly before you were born, but he was gifted with future Sight. He warned of your Sight and your journey to a darkness.” Sy forced another shaking breath. “Living so near the north, I should perhaps have guessed the Maltar would be involved. Still… he said the one you shadowed would be unique — exceptional, if you chose by the Mother. And then he said there would be a time when my skills would stand between you both — and Fates’ Cellar.” Hesitantly, Sy caressed the bundle before him. “I do not know if the old man meant my skill in this craft,” his watery gaze searched his daughter’s face, “or if he meant my skill in raising you so many years ago.”
Carefully he began to unwrap his gift. “I know you do not carry such swords by choice, Daughter. Many years ago when I began this, I had thought it would be yours. As you grew and your letters came, I understood it would be for the one you shadowed, if he…” Sy paused, the last chamois still hiding the sheath beneath as he looked at Di’nay, “or she… would choose to carry it.”
Diana already knew she could not deny this man his giving.
The chamois slid away to reveal the shimmering black of a well oiled scabbard; the length of it was plain, without a single etching. The thickly sewn edges were evenly cut and neatly secured. A gleam of high polished metal drew attention to the sword’s hilt. The design was simple. A flattened three-leaf clover made the knob and single flattened curls were at either side of the blade guard, but the grip was neither leather nor silver.
Amazed, Diana touched a finger to the hilt. The opal-like stones were sunk into the black etched silver; three ovals for front and three for back. They were mounted at a slant, fitting perfectly across the diagonal of the grip. Subtle teasing colors flashed through the dazzling depths, and Diana remembered Elana’s lifestone.
Cautiously Diana stood and grasped the hilt. It was warm, but there was none of the shivering sensation she’d experienced at Elana’s bonding. It slid with deadly — utter — silence from its sheath; she held it upright before her.
The fine, broad blade glittered white-silver. The edges were smooth sharp, not a single nick or chip in the length. The very point was wide but tapered enough for an effective lunge. It was slightly longer, perhaps by an inch, than her own, but it was better balanced.
With disbelief she studied the length, her wrist twisting, weighing its bulk. The hilt encased a heavier metal, Diana realized, to compensate its balance for the long reach, but the rest of the sword — blade and hilt — was made of Terran alloy.
“You — made this?” Diana asked, astonished. The stones certainly denied an Imperial artisan.
“It is your alien metal… embedded with lifestones,” Elana whispered in awe. She had never seen a polished lifestone bent to any will other than a Jezebet’s for bonding. She had known it was possible since the Changlings used them occasionally, but she had never thought to see them used in her father’s craft.
“There were Terran ships lost in these mountains during the battling years of our first contact,” Sy explained somberly. “Most that was salvageable was collected by the Council and by the kings hundreds of years ago, but there are still scraps to be found — for those who know where to look.”
Elana glanced at him sharply. “You chose Black Falls for this resource.”
“Yes, the Council approved of the venture. For the most part I blend the Terran alloy with our own metals. It increases the strength of our weapons and controls the disbursement of the alloy. But this one…” Sy’s hazel gaze returned to his crafted piece. “This one was to be different.”
“Why the stones?” Diana asked. The grip seemed to mold to her hand’s clasp, yet it was firm and smooth.
“Your alloy — it has a special property when joined with Aggar’s lifestones.” Sy glanced at his daughter. “The Council has known of this too. It is one of the ways they interfere with the satellite communications of the Terrans. The stone is energy without form — without purpose. It bonds and links life energies together — increasing or decreasing reserves, depending upon the task.” His hand reached, palm open to the flat side of the blade.
Diana jumped. A flashing aura of powder-soft blue engulfed the blade.
“Here it blocks or bludgeons. Here…” his hand drew a little further away and moved to parallel the cutting edge. It sparkled an ember orange. “…it melts or slices. In theory you could halve another man’s sword, but I’m not convinced six rather imperfect stones could actually carry enough power to do that.
“If you are angered or more intent, it becomes more powerful.”
Diana eyed him warily. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything more powerful.
“It has other properties,” Sy pointed out hurriedly, seeing the hesitancy in both his guest and daughter. “The lifestones will be sensitive to your own, Ona — through Di’nay. Should you become separated, Di’nay might be able to trace you.”
He looked to Di’nay. “If you sh
ould ever lose it, the sword will eventually disintegrate. Unlike your own piece, you would not have to risk the alloy falling into local hands and announcing your people’s continued presence on Aggar.”
A very attractive point, although what of her own sword? Diana slid the precious blade back into the sheath. “If I left it with you, would you melt down my old blade and mix it with your metals?”
“Aye,” he agreed solemnly.
Her fingers tapped the black leather. With this weapon she felt as if she would be taking unfair advantage of her enemies.
Sy interrupted her thoughts. “Few will suspect you are Council sent. The basic design of three stones and clover curls has been mine for many years. And the Changlings have used the lifestones in their slingshots for eons. Any witnesses will either be naming you magician or assuming that I have arranged a new kind of pact with the Changlings.”
She forced a slow, deep breath, and her fingers closed around the grip. Aside from its use, it was beautifully crafted. And the advantage? Diana remembered what might truly be at stake here. Perhaps it was only right that the resources of both Aggar and the Empire be united in such a tool. Perhaps the Mother’s Hand had guided this.
Diana glanced at Elana’s still figure. Had her part been to bring them here to her father’s house?
“It is a fine piece,” Diana said finally. She extended her hands to Sy. “I thank you for the honor and for your aid.” She looked to Rai. “Both of you.”
She slipped the scabbard from the table and belted it about her hips. It hung well and fit comfortably. She had a fleeting wish that she might never need to use it.
† † †
Chapter Three
Elana stirred in her sleep. Fuzzily she opened her eyes; it was still very much night-time. Her lids slid shut again; she was reluctant to come fully awake.
A sensation persisted — an awkward, dull thudding in her ears that was not quite hidden by the slumberous roar of the waterfalls. She rolled over, realizing it was just the sound of her own blood pounding in her eardrum. Vaguely she wondered if Di’nay had managed to contact her commander. Even if she had not, she was undoubtedly on her way back here. Elana half-hoped that Di’nay had not stumbled onto anything at the Inn. She — they both — could benefit from a day’s rest.
She rose on one elbow and punched the pillow. This was ridiculous.
Or was it?
She sat up abruptly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, elbows on her knees. With measured breaths she forced her body to relax and concentrate. Two rhythms — two echoes in her ear. Her fingers tore open the black wristband. Steady as always the crimson and bluish lines coursed through it, but the white depths glowed intensely, brightly — almost as brightly as Di’nay’s synthetic torch.
She threw the blanket aside and went to pull a shutter open. Gazing skyward at the almost full midnight moon, her Sight went soaring.
Beyond village streets, across fallow fields, her blue vision swept. She glimpsed three shadows, all men, in the rocky foothills marching to Cellar’s Gate; she passed them by. A cloak stirred in the icy wind and her eyes narrowed — same road, hours behind the three — a lone figure moved. She would know that stride anywhere.
Elana shivered as she came back to her parents’ home. She hastened to dress. For whatever reason, Di’nay must have retrieved her pack earlier and not just her green satchel. She knew better than to waste energy on self-pity in wondering why at just this moment. It was a good bet that the three figures she’d seen had something to do with either the hawker they sought or with Maltar’s scouts from Colmar. Her stomach tightened at the thought of the last trio they’d trailed.
Rai knocked lightly as Elana was reaching for her boots. Her mother cracked the door without waiting for an answer. “I’m awake,” Elana called.
Rai entered, holding a dim lantern high. She said nothing at the sight of her daughter lacing her boots tight. Instead she set the light down to turn up the wick.
“Something has happened.” Elana said. “I must meet her in the foothills.”
Rai nodded. “You’re not coming back.”
“Not tonight.”
“Perhaps never,” Rai admitted with more honesty.
Elana paused with cloak in hand. It was not to be denied. “Perhaps never.”
For a long moment they looked at one another. Elana longed to lock eyes for their farewell. But she was too anxious and it would not be fair.
“I will send word, if I can,” Elana offered finally.
“The Mistress will, if you cannot.” Rai knew the way of it all too well.
“I will miss you. You and Papa… I always knew I could come back, but now — ”
Rai tipped her head to hide her gathering tears. Too late she remembered her daughter’s Sight; she also remembered that she had always hidden the tears anyway, even when the girl had been an infant.
“If your Terran wishes to settle on Aggar…,” Rai smiled faintly, aware of that unlikelihood, “…you are both welcome here.” The soft dark gaze searched her loved one’s face. “And if she does not… I wish you happiness among her stars.”
Elana wondered if that might ever be. “Traveling with her, I could be, Mother.”
“That is more than most can say.” Smiling sadly, Rai took Elana into her arms for a last hug. “I’ll tell your father good-bye for you. He’ll understand.”
Elana squeezed tightly. “Tell him to do what he will with the horses… tell him….”
A curly strand had freed itself and Rai nodded as she tenderly tucked it behind her daughter’s ear. “We both love you too, Ona…” She smiled. “…Elana.”
Tears threatened and Elana’s throat ached — the pain of missed seasons with them mingling with that of their parting. But she could find nothing more to say. Elana kissed her mother’s cheek and left quickly.
† † †
The dawn crept into the valley as Diana reached the northern foothills. Her eyes stung from lack of sleep and her stomach was tight from anticipating the monthly annoyance of her bleeding; at least she need not deal with it for a day or two. Reluctantly she rested beside a small creek, munching on a dry breakfast of wafers and jerky and just managing a bath. She suspected that the barren mountains ahead would not give her another chance to wash soon. Fires would be as unlikely: she couldn’t risk the flames here, not so close to the crew ahead of her. She was equally uneasy about someone coming from behind.
She scrambled up a small rise, barely hidden by the brush, and peered through her tiny binoculars. The trio was moving again. She hurried back for her pack.
Elana should be waking about now, Diana decided. It was still early, but the young woman seldom seemed to wait for the sunrise. Diana glanced overhead; she had probably been up for awhile. She would be worried, Diana admitted guiltily. But at least Elana was safe. Safe with her family who obviously did care what became of her — safe from the wary men ahead and from the sadistic Maltar beyond.
And for herself? Diana frowned. The distraction — the preoccupations would be done with and she would be able to face herself each morning. She had done what she needed to do.
Elana was not Maryl, her heart whispered, but she set her mouth sternly. She knew that only too well. Perhaps it was truly the reason for her leaving.
Fates’ Jests and Mother’s Blessings — the beliefs of Aggar were in some ways too closely akin to those of her Sisters. She accepted the blame for her departure. The appearance of Tartuk and his two comrades had given her the opportunity — indeed, the necessity to move quickly. It had been her choice to move alone.
Choice? Diana glanced regretfully over her shoulder. Precious Goddess, what could she have done differently?
† † †
Night fell as Elana calmly made camp. She knew this game of cat-and-mouse was superbly easy compared to what the coming trail would allow. She stirred her small fire, feeding it more wood as she worried about Di’nay. The Amazon would not light a fire
tonight. Further on she would have to be doubly careful not to stumble into the trio’s camp, since rocky caverns and wind breaks would be few and far between. At that moment, Elana wished the Amazon her Blue Sight to veil the flickering firelight… to gauge the movements of those ahead and retreat into safety.
The wind rustled oddly and Elana’s head jerked up. Her Sight rippled outwards, but there was no sign of danger — or men. A smile gentled her expression, and still squatting, she swiveled to stare into the darkness. A small shape appeared from the brush, dragging a furry carcass almost twice its size.
“Eitteh!”
Proudly the animal deposited her catch at the woman’s knee with a swish of her tail, sat — yes, she was back.
Elana chuckled fondly and smoothed the fur back over its regal brow. The eitteh purred low and dipped its chin, encouraging the fingers to rub behind an ear.
“Have you missed me, Golden One?” Elana asked gaily and then picked up the fresh catch. “Or have you merely acquired a taste for roasted meats?”
An indignant purr rumbled from her, and the eitteh took itself off to the far side of the fire. With a plop it stretched full out, opening the fur-clad wings to absorb the toasty heat.
Laughing, Elana pulled her knife from its sheath and set about skinning their eventide.
† † †
The two moons rose and one chased the other through their heavenly arc. The wind pushed the inky clouds and seemed to swirl the patterns of the stars, but the travelers below took heed only of the faint storm warnings. The winter was soon to begin in the heights above, spurring them on to the crest of the Gate. Elana noted the signs with more concern than those whom she followed; her Sight provided her with more than an educated guess — afternoon of the third day, eventide at best, before it would hit with full force. She did not doubt the trio would clear the pass and lodge in the shelter just over the summit. It was possible, although unlikely, that they might even miss the worst of the storm if they cleared the dividing ridge.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 23
