by Anne Logston
“It’ll burn long in the memory of the Blue-eyes,” Lahti said, troubled. “It will redouble their hostility.”
“We’re almost at their border,” he assured her. “Only a short distance and we’ll cross into Hawk’s Eye’s lands.”
“And what then?” Lahti asked anxiously. “What if they’ve heard the disturbance and—Valann! Above!”
Val leaped aside just in time to avoid the Blue-eyes who dropped like a ripe fruit from the tree, barely drawing his knife quickly enough to parry the blindingly fast attack. Val squinted through the darkness at his opponent, and his heart sank as he saw the tall, beaded coil of a braid at the top of his opponent’s head—this was a matriarch, a woman of great age and doubtless great experience with her dagger. He was stronger than most elves he knew, and his reach was very good because of his height, but his opponent was much faster, and he could never hope to match her centuries-honed skill.
The Blue-eyes woman darted in, and Val hurriedly retreated with a burning line of blood flowing down his forearm. He ducked behind a tree, hoping to dodge the Blue-eyes woman long enough for Lahti to—
The Blue-eyes woman grunted and fell with no grace at all. Lahti gazed down at her dispassionately, then tossed aside the branch with which she had clubbed the older woman.
“Hurry,” she said. “Before others come.”
They ran with almost reckless speed through the darkness, Val letting Lahti, with her superior night vision, lead the way. Fortunately it was not long before he saw the stones marked with glowing runes that indicated the boundary between Blue-eyes and Hawk’s Eye’s lands. For a moment Val thought fearfully that the Blue-eyes might have set up an ambush at the boundary; then they were across, and safe.
“Stop,” Lahti said as soon as they were well beyond arrow range. “Let me tend your arm in case the knife was poisoned. I can’t carry you back to Inner Heart if you’re weakened.”
The scratch was deeper than Val had thought, but after sniffing the wound and tasting his blood, Lahti announced with relief that it was not poisoned. She bound up the cut with a poultice of hastily gathered herbs to keep it from festering, but did not waste what strength she had left on healing the cut. They still needed to get far enough away that if any Hawk’s Eye patrol had been alerted by the noise, they would not stumble across Val and Lahti.
“Stop,” Lahti said again, this time a note of desperation in her voice. She sniffed the air, her ears twitching as they strained to sort through the forest’s night sounds. “Can you smell it? Can you feel it?”
Val sniffed the night breeze, opened all his senses, inner and outer, as he had been taught. Yes. Eyes watched, ears listened from somewhere nearby—was it those bushes, that tree? Had they fled from the wolf and into the bear’s den?
“Are you cowards to hide like a snake in its burrow, then strike us down from afar with arrows and spears?” Val called defiantly. He felt Lahti move slowly beside him, turning so the green band at her arm was more visible. Surely they could smell the scent on her despite the sweat and grime they’d both accumulated. “Come down and fight knife to knife with me if you must fight.”
“Name yourself and your clan.” The hissed voice came from a nearby thicket, but look as he might, Val could see no one there.
“I am Valann, son-by-love of Rowan, Eldest of Inner Heart,” Val said. “With me is my mate Lahti, daughter of Kella of the Moon Lakes.”
“She is no Moon Lake,” a female challenged. “She has the height of a Redoak. And you look no elf at all.”
“Inner Heart, Moon Lake, Owl Clan, and Redoak all danced in my mother’s High Circle,” Lahti said evenly. “And Valann’s mother by blood was Chyrie of the Wilding Clan, she who saved your lives and your lands by raising the forest against your enemies. We mean no harm to Hawk’s Eye and wish only permission to pass safely from these lands.”
A male elf stepped from the thicket, bow in hand and arrow nocked and ready.
“That is for our Eldest to decide,” he said. “You will come with us to see him.” Other elves stepped from bushes, or jumped down from the trees.
Val glanced at Lahti, who nodded.
“We have no choice,” she said.
The elf who had spoken lowered his bow. Val was not too distracted by relief to notice with some envy the Hawk’s Eye warriors’ unusual and rather elegant appearance—they were middling in height, neither as tall as the Inner Hearts nor as short as the Moon Lakes. Their skin was almost as dark as the Inner Hearts’, and their hair was black, although with occasional odd streaks of a brilliant gold-red shade, and their eyes were almost the same tawny gold as Val remembered Chyrie’s to be. As if to accentuate their exotic appearance, or perhaps for its practical value in night patrols, the Hawk’s Eye warriors wore leathers stained almost true black, with hoods they could raise to cover the fiery streaks in their hair. With those hoods raised, the warriors would be near invisible in the darkness.
The warrior stepped forward and surveyed Val, then Lahti, with those odd eyes. At last he nodded briefly.
“So long as you cooperate and do not attempt to escape, you will be treated as honored guests, and need fear no harm,” he said. “I am Twilight. It would be a long walk to our village, and you appear exhausted. Spark will summon deer to bear us back to the Eldest. Rest for now.”
Lahti all but sagged to the ground; Val sat down wearily beside her. Lahti said nothing, only leaned quietly against Val’s shoulder, clasping his hand. Val held her close and waited. They were alive, at least, and the Hawk’s Eyes offered them no immediate harm. And no matter what they did with him, they’d never harm Lahti, not while she wore the green band of fertility. That was enough hope to sustain him for now.
Twilight squatted down beside them, holding out his wineskin and a leaf-wrapped parcel.
“We have a little cold roast squirrel from our meal, and roasted nuts,” he said. “You may have it A ripened woman must maintain her strength.” His voice was tinged with disapproval, and Val knew he was being courteous not to vent his anger that a ripe female had been brought into such a dangerous situation in the first place.
“I thank you for your kindness,” Val said quietly. He took the wineskin and the parcel and handed them to Lahti. Lahti accepted them, giving Valann a troubled glance, and Val knew, too, that for the first time their ploy with the green band and the scent troubled her. Fertility and reproduction were sacred to the Mother Forest; what offense might they be committing by their pretense? They’d meant the disguise only as long-distance protection, never anticipating they would have to deal closely with other elves.
There was nothing to do for it now, though, but continue the lie. Lahti ate the squirrel and the nuts—true to Twilight’s word, there was only a little—but shared the wine with Val. By the time they were finished, Spark, whoever he or she was, had apparently summoned the deer, for Twilight immediately led them to the waiting animals. Judging from the strong resemblance between the young female elf awaiting them there and their guide, Val surmised that Spark was Twilight’s younger sister, but there was no telling; many clans, especially the very small ones, had such resemblances throughout the clan.
Despite their politeness, it was apparent that the Hawk’s Eyes still considered Val and Lahti prisoners; Twilight rode with Lahti, and while Valann was too large to share a deer, Spark rode very close beside him. It hardly mattered, however; Val knew that even should he and Lahti have inclination and opportunity to flee on their deer, Spark was apparently a beast-speaker and they were not; the deer would answer to her and return, or simply throw their riders and abandon them. And, Valann would admit, he and Lahti were simply far too exhausted to even attempt an escape.
It might have been a long walk to the Hawk’s Eye village, but mounted on the deer it was a short enough ride. Val was surprised to see how tiny the Hawk’s Eye village was—hardly more than a dozen huts grouped around a single fire pit, and nothing nearly as large as Rowan’s speaking hut, either. But then, he
reminded himself, probably many clans were no larger than this; the only village he had ever known was Inner Heart, likely the largest village in the forest. At least the Hawk’s Eyes he’d seen seemed fit and well fed, not scruffy and half-starved like the Swiftfoots.
What seemed to be the entire Hawk’s Eye clan approached to greet them, not thronging joyfully around Val and Lahti, calling out and reaching to touch them as his own people might have done, but gathering silently, not murmuring even to each other, only staring wide-eyed at the visitors, neither welcome nor hostility apparent in their expressions.
Twilight slid from his deer and helped Lahti down, then nodded reassuringly to them and disappeared into one of the huts. He reemerged a few moments later.
“Our Eldest, Silence, will see you,” Twilight said, the faintest note of surprise in his voice. “Spark and I will witness to your honorable behavior and our assurances of fair treatment to you.”
“We thank you,” Val said, for lack of anything else to say. Obviously these Hawk’s Eyes were a formal sort of clan, far more bound by ritual than the boisterous Inner Hearts. Rowan would have been there to meet any prisoner brought in by a patrol, not sitting in a hut and waiting for prisoners to be brought before her. Hurriedly Val slid the curled boar’s-tusk bracelet from his wrist, nodding approvingly as Lahti lifted her horn bead necklace over her head. He handed her the bracelet.
Spark held aside the leather flap covering the opening to the Eldest’s hut; Val had to stoop slightly to fit comfortably through the lower doorway. The hut inside was lit dimly by a fire burned down to embers.
Sitting on the opposite side of the fire was an elf whose very appearance made Valann stop where he was, so that Lahti nearly collided with his back. Rowan was the most ancient elf Val had ever seen, but this creature must have been old while Rowan’s mother was still a child. His limbs were stick-thin and twisted with age; one leg ended in a stump midway down to the knee, and his fingers were so stiffly gnarled that they curled at the ends of his wrists like claws. His eyes were white and blind, his long coiled braid was equally white, and his pale face was deeply seamed and wrinkled. Still there was something about him that seemed alive, alive, alive—Valann shivered as he remembered the expression he had seen in Chyrie’s eyes. Yes, this creature, like his mother, lived very near indeed to the Mother Forest.
“Enter, young ones, and sit,” the ancient one said, his voice a mere whisper. “Partake of the warmth of my fire, the nourishment of my food, and be welcomed as one of my children.”
Valann and Lahti exchanged glances. Val had heard the traditional greeting of food and fire a thousand times in his life, but never spoken in such words. Was this perhaps a much more ancient form?
“We are honored to share your food and fire, Grandfather,” Lahti said hesitantly. “May joy and friendship be our contribution. We are—”
“Lahti, daughter of Kella of Moon Lake, and Valann, who names himself son-by-love of Rowan, Eldest of that Inner Heart,” Silence whispered, barely nodding. “But no matter at what breast he suckled in his infancy, his blood-mother’s name is greater still. At the heart of the world is the beating of her heart. She too listens to the many voices. You are welcome here in her name, whatever mixture of seed made you what you are.”
Again Valann felt a chill sweep through him, and he was glad to sit down on the thick furs that cushioned the earthen floor of the hut. Silence lifted a hand, and Spark entered the hut, Twilight beside her carrying a bowl and a cup. Twilight handed both to Lahti; to Valann’s surprise, the bowl contained only a few roasted nuts and the cup only a few sips of wine.
Lahti glanced confusedly at Valann, but she picked up one of the nuts and ate it, sipping a little wine from the cup before passing it to Valann. Val, who had not had the benefit even of the bit of food that had been given to Lahti earlier, finished the scant repast, embarrassed when his stomach impolitely growled its discontent.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” Lahti murmured. She extended the necklace and bracelet she’d been holding. “We bring these gifts for the Eldest of the Hawk’s Eyes, in thanks for the honor of our welcome.” Then she glanced helplessly at Valann. Silence could neither see the gifts nor reach out to accept them. At last, she awkwardly laid them at his feet.
The seamed old face creased with a smile.
“We must observe the appropriate rituals, of course,” Silence whispered. “You have shared my food and fire. You are one with Hawk’s Eye. My people will give you a hut to rest yourself, and water to wash your bodies, and food and drink to still the growling beast I hear.” Valann flushed miserably. “Tomorrow when you wake, return to Inner Heart. We will give you trail food for the journey and gifts for your Eldest. Say to Rowan, Eldest of Inner Heart, that Hawk’s Eye is of one blood with Inner Heart. Her people shall have safe passage through our lands, and those who walk in friendship with them shall come to no harm at our hand.”
“Grandfather—” Valann began, but Silence raised a clawed hand again, and Val fell silent.
“Talk is for humans, and of talk there has been enough,” Silence rasped. “That was always Rowan’s failing—she believed too much in the power of words. Learn to speak with your heart, elven child.” He sighed and lay back on the furs, closing his eyes.
Valann and Lahti exchanged puzzled glances once more, but clearly their audience was at an end; they rose and followed Twilight and Spark silently out of the hut. Val almost sighed with relief, however, when they were outside; somehow the night seemed much safer in its very ordinariness.
Twilight vanished abruptly into the darkness without even a farewell; Spark, however, led Val and Lahti to one of the huts, hesitating outside, glancing at Lahti.
“We have twenty-two males,” she murmured, speaking for the first time. “Do you wish to choose among them?”
“Choose—” Lahti shook her head blankly.
“For the sacred dance,” Spark said, indicating the band around Lahti’s arm. “To fill your womb with life.”
Lahti’s eyes widened in realization, and she flushed.
“No,” she said hurriedly. “My mate is the one I have chosen.”
Spark nodded, although her furtive glance at Valann held some puzzlement.
“If there is anything else you need, call,” Spark murmured, “and someone will come.” Then she, too, was gone.
Val shrugged and ducked into the hut. A brighter, newer fire was burning here, and platters of meat, fruits, stew, and greens were laid beside the fire to keep warm. Apparently this was someone’s home, for what were likely personal belongings had been hastily shoved to the back of the hut in baskets. Several buckets of water had been placed just inside the doorway, together with a bowl of rendered-fat soap, and a stack of what turned out to be Hawk’s Eye-style leather clothing beside them.
Tired and hungry as he was, the simple act of washing away the sweat and dirt of days of travel was the most wonderful sensation Val could have imagined. He un-braided his black hair and washed it too, the marvelous sensation of cleanliness seeming to lift nights’ worth of exhaustion from him. He’d not bother to try the new clothing until morning; at the moment he was far more interested in the food awaiting them, and the thick, soft-looking pallet of furs that served as a bed.
When Lahti came to sit beside him at the fire, however, Valann almost forgot his hunger. She, too, had scrubbed herself from head to toe and was enjoying the warmth of the fire on her clean bare skin. Without the odors of her perspiration, the soiled leather of her clothing, and the travel dirt they had both accumulated, the musky scent Dusk had given Lahti was even more apparent. Val shivered and hurriedly turned to the food, hoping his hunger and the strong aromas of the richly spiced meat would distract him. However odd the Hawk’s Eyes might seem in their behavior, they apparently liked to savor a well-prepared meal as much as any other elf. He fancied, however, that Lahti gave him a small smile of amusement as she reached for the wineskin.
“You never told me,” Lahti sai
d as she sampled the contents of a bowl of sap-sugared nuts, “how it was you were so certain that that was your sister we almost gave our lives to save. There were two, and so far away, and hidden in the thicket.”
“An elf who would blunder openly into Blue-eyes’ territory, coming into it from the open lands near the city and bringing a human with her?” Val scoffed. “Who had not the faintest notion of cover or quiet movement? Who else could it have been?”
“Ah.” Lahti raised an eyebrow. “Do you know, I thought my night vision the better of yours, and yet we were so far away I couldn’t have been certain whether the small one was an elf or a human child, perhaps.”
Val tried to remember. It had been dark, and there were so many Blue-eyes; had he actually seen Ria in all the confusion?
“But we were going because Dusk warned that she was approaching,” Val said at last. “And she did approach the forest.”
“Yes, Dusk’s vision,” Lahti agreed. “I should have realized that. I was only surprised that you seemed so certain so quickly.”
Val hesitated.
“I’ve sometimes dreamed of her,” he said slowly. “Sometimes I could almost touch her, it seemed. Dusk once told me that spending so many months side by side in the womb, sharing our mother’s heartbeat, that our spirits grew closely as well, and sometimes perhaps they touch in the spirit world.”
“As Dusk’s spirit journeys to seek his visions,” Lahti said, nodding. “I wonder if she felt your presence as well.”
Val said nothing; he had not thought of that. Had his sister seen his face in dreams, reached out vainly to touch him as he’d reached for her, woken and ached at her failure? Val shook his head; such things were Dusk’s realm, not his. He would be well content to let the Gifted One puzzle out the spirit world. Val had quite enough to concern himself in this place at this very moment, the Mother Forest knew!
The food was excellent, and the wine was the finest Val had ever tasted, but he might as well have been eating dust and dry leaves. Clean and comfortable for the first time in days, his hunger and thirst finally satisfied, his weariness seemed to vanish as if by magic, and he found himself glancing sideways at Lahti, helplessly watching the golden firelight dance over the gentle swell of her small new breasts and flicker over the smooth, dark strands of her hair.
