Greendaughter (Book 6)

by Anne Logston

  “But if we traveled on the common road in the company of elves?” Sharl pressed. “Would other elves then attack us?”

  Chyrie exchanged looks with Val, then shrugged.

  “I know not,” she said. “Never has such a thing been done. But no elves would travel with humans, not through their own territory and with their Eldest’ s blessing, much less through the lands of other clans.”

  “We would pay well,” Sharl said persuasively, drawing forth a small leather sack from his waist. He poured its contents onto the ground in front of Chyrie and Valann.

  Val picked up one of the golden coins and examined it closely, smelling it and passing it to Chyrie.

  “What is the use of this?” Chyrie asked, hefting the coin in her hand. “It is wrongly shaped for a sling and too small for other uses. We use flat rocks for ten-stone; is this then a playing piece?”

  “It’s a gold coin,” Rivkah explained. “We use them to buy other things we desire.”

  “I had heard rumors that humans traded in bits of metal but had never seen such,” Valann said curiously, sticking out his tongue to taste the coin. “It is like the stuff we pick from some streams to pound out for jewelry, but in not so pleasing a form. See?” He brushed back Chyrie’s short, curling hair to show the small rings in her ears.

  “None of our kind would take this in trade,” Chyrie said scornfully. “It is of no use.”

  “It’s made of gold!” Sharl protested. “Gold is valuable to you, isn’t it, if you use it for jewelry?”

  “I have not the skill of pounding out jewelry”—Chyrie shrugged—“nor has my mate. It is too soft for the making of weapons. Are humans so poor that they have nothing better to trade?”

  “It matters not,” Valann said firmly. “Even if they had all the riches of the Mother Forest they could not buy us. Is it not so?”

  “Indeed,” Chyrie agreed hastily. “It is not a matter of payment. We cannot help you.”

  “Cannot or will not?” Rivkah probed.

  “We cannot, nor would we,” Val said coldly. “My mate needs the attentions of our Gifted One, and we have other business of import to us if not to you.”

  “Perhaps we could help you in your endeavors in exchange for your services,” Sharl suggested, “if you will tell us what you need.”

  Chyrie exchanged flabbergasted looks with Valann, and they both burst out laughing.

  “Have we said something offensive?” Rivkah asked worriedly.

  “Nay, only amusing,” Chyrie choked. “We have come that my mate may plant seed in my womb. I doubt you could offer any assistance in that matter.”

  All four humans reddened darkly, and Rivkah mustered a weak chuckle.

  “In that case I’m afraid you’re right,” Rivkah said ruefully. “But, Chyrie, are you certain you can bear after—well—what happened?”

  Chyrie shrugged.

  “Valann is a fine healer,” she said. “How great the harm was done me I cannot say until we couple next. Still it would be wise that I consult with our Gifted One when we return home, and he can say truly if Valann’s seed has taken root.”

  “And we must go about assuring that,” Val said gently, his eyes sparkling at Chyrie. “It is in my mind that a slow death should befall they who next interrupt our...endeavors.”

  “Sharl,” Rivkah said pleadingly, “don’t you think—”

  “No,” Sharl said regretfully, but firmly. “We may never have this chance again. The risk is too great. Valann, I’ll ask once more: Will you guide us on this common road? We’ll pay you well, I promise. If you don’t want the gold, we will find some other way to compensate you.”

  “And yet again I say we will not,” Valann snapped. “You can say nothing to change our course.”

  Sharl looked old suddenly, and tired. “I’m afraid I can, Valann.”

  Instantly Val’s sword was in his hand, and Chyrie’s was equally ready.

  “Think not to threaten us, human,” he snarled. “My gratitude has its limits, and you fast exceed them.”

  “It’s no threat,” Rivkah said unhappily. “Valann, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do it, but... I’ve cast a geas upon you. It was in the wine. I’m sorry that Chyrie drank. I didn’t mean for her to be included in the geas.”

  “You lie,” Chyrie hissed. “Valann tested the wine, as did I. There was no potion therein.”

  “It’s not a potion, but a spell,” Rivkah said. “I added nothing to the wine but a few words to seal the binding.”

  “I wanted to avoid this,” Sharl said. “If you had agreed to lead us freely I would have had Rivkah lift the binding. We will still pay you well, I swear it, in gold or trade goods, whatever you like. What is she doing?” he added as Chyrie dropped her sword, crouching on the ground, eyes tight shut.

  Chyrie sank deep within herself, seeking around her until she ran into a barrier, thick and hard. With mind and spirit she battered it, feeling no yielding. Refusing to waste her energy, she ceased her assault and explored the barrier within herself.

  (Tell me,) Valann told her.

  Chyrie shook her head bleakly.

  (It is truth, beloved,) she thought, showing him the barrier. (We are bound until the man Sharl grants us release, or until the woman Rivkah lifts the spell. Nor may we lift hand to do them harm while we are so bound.)

  (Is there no way to break this binding?)

  (Not now.) Chyrie was silent for a long moment. (I pledge I will see those humans suffer long for this.)

  (We will suffer with them if we accompany them on this fool’s journey,) Valann thought wryly. (Still an arrow loosed cannot be recalled. What are the limits upon our freedom?)

  (Perhaps a hundred paces or so, no more,) Chyrie told him.

  “Release at least my mate,” Valann said aloud. “I alone will suffice for your purposes.”

  “I will not leave you!” Chyrie said hotly.

  “You must go to our Gifted One,” Valann said aloud, but inwardly he spoke differently.

  (You can follow behind,) he thought. (Freed from the binding you can slay the humans and free me, fleet one.)

  “No child is worth your life!” she argued. (A fine plan, beloved,) she added silently. (They will not go far.)

  “I’m sorry,” Rivkah said. “But since you drank the wine, Chyrie, I can’t release you without releasing Valann.”

  “Then do so,” Valann said with dignity, “and I will freely guide you. That was your offer, was it not?”

  Sharl chuckled. “I’m sorry, but somehow I don’t think we can trust you now, Valann.”

  Valann spat on the ground.

  “How lightly you apologize, as if your words alone will make amends for any crime. Yet you will make amend in full measure, I swear it, and you will pay in blood and in sorrow.” He folded his arms around Chyrie. “And should my mate take harm because you have bound her, may your treacherous spirits never return to the earth to find peace.”

  Chyrie touched his arm.

  “This bickering profits us none,” she said gently. “Come, quiet your anger. Let us spread our furs and take comfort together and see what the dawn brings.” (Beloved, do not give them warning. It is the silent blade that finds its mark. There will come a time, and a way.)

  “Yes, sleep and mend,” Rivkah urged. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “I do so, but not at your bidding,” Valann said icily. He helped Chyrie to her feet and led her to their bundles, which they arranged at another campsite. Valann returned to the humans’ fire only to take one of the buckets of water, which he carried mutely back to their pallets. He scrutinized the fur in which Rivkah had wrapped Chyrie, then cast it aside scornfully.

  “Soiled with the smell of humans and their tame beasts, and they know not how to tan a hide to softness,” he said contemptuously. Taking a soft, absorbent leather from his pack, he wet it and began gently cleaning the dirt from Chyrie’s skin.

  “Curse me for a poor healer,” he said, frowning. “The
re are still many bruises under the soil and blood. Do you feel much pain?”

  Chyrie shook her head. “Only on deep breathing. In the morning we must bind my ribs tightly. I am ill-inclined to let the human woman work her touch on me again, even if she could heal my bones.” She lay back, sighing contentedly as he continued his ministrations.

  “Neither she nor any other human will lay hand on you again as long as I live to stop it,” Valann said tenderly. He drew from his pouch a handful of leaves, which he crumbled into the water before he continued.

  “This may sting,” he warned, “but the Mother Forest alone knows what diseases those stinking human males carry. Do I hurt you?” he added as Chyrie gasped.

  “No, love,” she said with a chuckle. “But if you continue such attentions we must soon try the extent of your healing.”

  Valann’s smile carried more than a little relief.

  “I am glad to see you are not spirit-wounded by their violence,” he said gently. “But my hungry-bodied mate must wait until tomorrow at least.”

  “How much longer will I remain ripe?” she wondered worriedly.

  “If my seed did not take root, another hand of nights,” Valann guessed. “Plenty of time, love, and there is every hope we have already succeeded.”

  Chyrie’s smile faded, and when she spoke, her voice was small.

  “Valann...is there any chance that a human’s seed could grow in me?”

  Valann froze, then forced a semblance of composure as he wrung out the leather.

  “I think not,” he said. “Should a wolf mate with a fox, or a fox with a weasel, there would be no get of them. The Mother Forest breeds only like with like.”

  “But a wolf will not couple with a fox, nor a fox with a weasel,” Chyrie murmured. “The Mother Forest has seen that one kind does not desire another. Yet the humans desired me. Have you ever known a human and an elf to couple, that we can say this or that is so? It frightens me, love.”

  Valann stretched out beside Chyrie, gently running his fingertips over her skin.

  “I wish you could return to the Gifted One,” he said. “Who knows how long these humans may expect to keep us? But surely it cannot be more than a few days, and that will be plenty of time. The Gifted One can see for certain if and what you bear, and if anything is amiss, there are magicks and potions to cleanse you without harm.”

  “Oh, Valann,” she wailed. “It may be another half century before I ripen again.”

  “Hush. You are still young,” Valann said firmly. “There will be many times of ripeness left to us both.”

  “Not if we are killed,” Chyrie said.

  “If so, then it matters little what you bear within you,” Valann told her practically. “Come, do not torment yourself with fear. The Mother Forest is wise and our Gifted One is great, and you can trust in them both.”

  “You left out my mate, who is perfect beyond the lot of elvenkind,” Chyrie said drowsily. “And I trust in him most of all.”

  Valann smiled silently, pulled a bear pelt over them both, and followed Chyrie down into sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Rom sat poking restlessly at the fire, glancing occasionally into the darkness around the camp and yawning. It was nearly two hours till dawn, and he had not slept nearly long enough to suit him.

  Abruptly he yelped as a small foot nudged his ribs. Valann had materialized at his side as silently as moonlight.

  “We must go,” Val said. “There is no more safety here.”

  Sharl struggled up onto one elbow.

  “What is it?”

  “Others watch with hostile eyes,” Val said. “Chyrie feels it. We must go, and soon. Is there one of your oversize riding beasts for Chyrie and myself?”

  “Plenty, since our comrades were slain,” Rivkah said, crawling out of her sleeping furs. “Did you and Chyrie walk all the way here?”

  “Our mounts would not travel in the company of the likes of you,” Valann said sourly, “and unlike us, they have that choice open to them.”

  He returned to Chyrie, who was tying up their packs.

  (Why did you bid me warn them?) he asked silently. (Let the Moon Lakes slay them and we are freed.)

  (If I were certain of that I might agree,) Chyrie thought unhappily. (But I know not their human magic. Perhaps only the woman or the man can lift it by speaking the words. If they should die, then we might be chained to their dead flesh. I had hoped they might free me, so that the woman Rivkah might be captured and the others slain. Our clan could force her to remove the spell. But bound as we both are, we cannot act against them, and I fear what might happen if both the man Sharl and the woman Rivkah should die. Besides, we cannot escape while they live, and the Moon Lakes might well slay us with them.)

  (Mother Forest blight the loins of all humans,) Val thought bitterly. (Well, there is nothing for it. They are giving us one of their leather-strapped riding beasts.)

  Chyrie was appalled.

  “One of those living mountains?” she asked. “How shall we ascend to its back?”

  “We will find a way,” Val said grimly. “I will not be lifted to its back like a child by one of those humans, I vow. Give me the packs. You must not carry until your ribs heal. Is the binding tight enough?”

  Chyrie took an experimental deep breath and winced.

  “As well as can be expected,” she sighed. “I can ride.”

  “Well enough.” He drew a leather thong from the pack, tying it into a complex series of knots, and tied it around Chyrie’s arm below the green cord.

  (Wear this openly,) he told her. (The humans will not know what it means.) He tied an identical thong for himself.

  Chyrie examined the thong with some surprise. The knot-language was old but well known. This was a hostage-knot, showing that the elf who wore it was captive, but that her clan would pay ransom for her. An even heavier ransom could be charged for the return of an elf known to be fertile.

  (A clever idea, love,) she thought admiringly. (Perhaps even if we are set upon, we will be spared for a ransom.)

  (Any elf seeing would know that we could only be captives of the humans,) Val mused, (but our lack of visible bonds might confuse them. None will care to help us, but at least this may spare us harm. Will you send word to the Wilding camp?)

  (I have already sent two birds and a squirrel.)

  Val barely smiled. (Do you think there is any chance they will come to our aid?)

  (I think not,) Chyrie thought sadly. (It would mean sending a hunting party out of our territory, and they would be many days behind us, even so. But perhaps they can send us information of use to us, or send offers of ransom to other clans.)

  “Are you ready?” Sharl called. “It was you who wanted haste.”

  The humans waited impatiently while Chyrie, standing on a stump, stroked and murmured to the horse and Valann removed the saddle and bridle.

  “I would think,” Sharl said sarcastically, “that the two of you will have trouble enough staying on a horse.”

  “He does not like them,” Chyrie said simply. Valann made a cup of his hands and lifted her to the horse’s back, then used one of the altars to mount.

  “Well, you will have to put the bridle back on him when we camp,” Rivkah said practically, “or he would just wander away in the night. And he is Lord Sharl’s horse, not yours.”

  Val looked impatiently at Sharl.

  “You promised us payment,” he said icily, “for our slavery to you. Therefore give us this horse and two females, that we may breed them for our clan.”

  Sharl looked startled, then chuckled. “The horses are yours, Valann, but the one you ride will be no use for breeding; he has been gelded.”

  “Gelded? What is that?” Chyrie asked.

  “It means that the horse’s gonads have been cut away,” Rivkah explained. “It is often done to male horses, to make them more docile, but it also renders them unable to breed.”

  Valann echoed Chyrie’s horrified expr
ession.

  “You mean,” he said slowly, stunned, “that you would deprive one of the gift of reproduction? Simply so that he is more docile for your enslavement?”

  “It is a simple process.” Sharl shrugged. “The horse suffers little.”

  “Are you a beast-speaker that you know this?” Chyrie snarled. “Or is it that you yourself have been so treated?”

  Sharl scowled furiously.

  “I would think,” he said coldly, “that in your position you would find it safer to keep a civil tongue.” Val shrugged.

  “What threat will you make to us now?” he said indifferently. “You can but kill us, and you will not do that. You are, I see now, no better than those other humans you call out-kin. You simply take what you want and do what you please to bend it to your will, be it elf or—or horse, regardless of the harm you do it thereby.”

  “It’s not the same,” Rivkah protested. “The horses are only animals. You kill animals for meat.”

  “That is the natural order,” Chyrie maintained. “We hunt, as does wolf or cat or fox, and we kill what we need. Never did the Mother Forest make one creature to be bound to the will of another.”

  Sharl scowled as Val languidly gestured to show the road they must take. “Do you see no difference between people—elves and humans—and animals?”

  “I see much difference between elves and humans,” Val said quietly. “But what matter how we believe? I see that your kind sees no difference between elf and animal, since my mate and I are enslaved even as your horses, albeit our bridles are of magic rather than leather.”

  Rivkah flushed miserably.

  “You judge us harshly,” she said. “I’m not proud of what I did, but it’s a case of great need. Lord Sharl is a kind man and wants allies, not prisoners. Under other circumstances he would never—”

  Val spat derisively. “That for your lord’s kindness. If his need was great, he made no mention of it. A kind man does not deceive and enslave others under pretext of friendship. Wildings would not so treat even our enemies. Let him seek his allies among his own kind, such as those who forced my mate. He shall have nothing from me that I can deny him.”