FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  Their sheltering rock split open with a scream.

  On hands and knees Saeun scrambled away, legs tangling in her cloak. She turned and reached for Gert. Her maid scuttled backward off to the left, staring at the black maw that opened in the rock.

  A woman appeared there, followed by two tall men. They looked huge from Saeun’s position on the ground. The lady stood nearly as tall as her companions, clothed in a low-cut, dark gray dress encrusted with gems that sparkled in the faint moonlight. A silver amulet glinted on her breast. The woman’s straight dark hair fell nearly to her feet and contrasted sharply with her milky skin. She smiled at Saeun and looked at her with eyes as black as a moonless night. Holding out her hand she said, “Do not fear. I am Edelstena.”

  Dark Elves! Saeun didn’t take the woman’s hand. Freya protect us!

  After a moment, Edelstena lowered her hand gracefully back to her side. She took a step forward, allowing her warriors to step out of the rock to either side of her. “You are cold out here under this open sky. My halls are warm. Come within.”

  All Saeun’s life she’d heard stories of the Elves and those taken by them. Usually those legends were told to keep children from foolishness. Tales that happened to someone else, somewhere else.

  Now the Elves were here, and they had come for her.

  Somewhere Saeun found her voice. “My thanks, Lady Edelstena. You are most generous, but I must decline your kind invitation.” It can’t hurt to be polite.

  The warriors began gathering her carry sacks.

  “Here now! Leave that be!” Gert spoke up, reaching for a bag. “You heard my lady. We thank you kindly for your offer, but we’ll not be going with you.”

  Gert had scrambled off to Saeun’s left when the rock face opened. Lady Edelstena turned her head slowly to her right to see the maid. She didn’t smile this time. “You were not invited.”

  Saeun got to her feet as the men continued to gather their few bags. “I won’t be going anywhere without Gert.” She held out a shaking hand to the nearest man. She didn’t care if they noticed her fear. “May I have those, please?”

  Lady Edelstena nodded sharply. The man grabbed Saeun’s wrist and jerked her to him as easily as if she were ribbon floating on the wind. Sharp pain flashed in her shoulder, then she was held fast with her back to his chest, her right wrist still pinioned in his firm grasp. The lady came closer.

  “No!” Gert sprang up and pulled at his arm. She might as well have been pushing at the mountain for all his grasp gave way.

  Edelstena struck Gert a sharp, back-handed blow. Her head snapped back with shocking force and she fell motionless on the cold earth.

  “Gert!” Saeun struggled, but to no effect. She kicked out, connecting with Edelstena’s knee. The woman gasped but didn’t go down. She came closer. Her limp gave Saeun a small satisfaction.

  “You will suffer for that.” The elf’s dark eyes absorbed all light.

  Saeun seized Edelstena’s silver amulet with her left hand and invoked her Talent—her useless Talent that her brothers had ridiculed.

  Edelstena screamed and jerked back, pulling the amulet from Saeun’s grasp. It was too late—the silver amulet and its chain had turned to iron. The Elf dropped her glamour and her appearance blurred, revealing a pale face that was all sharp angles and large black eyes.

  Edelstena yanked at the chain, then released the links as they burned her skin, shrieking as the ferrous metal fell back upon her chest. She lifted the necklace again, juggling it from hand to hand as it continued to sear her flesh. Finally she pulled it over her head, her face twisting with pain. The iron necklace caught in her long tresses and the stink and smoke of scorching hair arose, then was whipped away by the frigid wind. One of her warriors sprang forward and with a slash cut the amulet free.

  Held fast, Saeun couldn’t retreat as the Dark Elf leaned close. The burned and frizzled strands around her face did nothing to detract from Edelstena’s menace.

  “You are mine now, mayfly,” she snarled. “You will pay for that with every breath of your short li—”

  The point of an arrow suddenly protruded from Edelstena’s side, stopping her words. Her eyes widened. Saeun’s massive captor thrust her aside and lifted a stone mace. She stumbled and fell over Gert’s crumpled form.

  Wild shouts filled the night as tall warriors rushed into the small level space, swinging bright swords. The Trackers had found her. Then what felt like a mountain fell on her and the battle no longer mattered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DAHLEVEN STEPPED INTO Neven’s private chambers and concealed a start of surprise at his father’s weary appearance. Neven sat at the table awake and dressed, just as Dahleven expected, but not with his usual erect posture. No matter how late his conversations lasted, how wearing his business, Neven always rose early, and he never showed the effects—until now. Now he slumped, elbows resting on the arms of his chair, cradling a steaming cup of bitter chocolate. Dark circles shadowed the wrinkles under his eyes.

  He’s getting old. The truth of it had never struck Dahleven so forcefully before.

  “Lord Dahleven.” Gris nodded a bow.

  Dahleven acknowledged Neven’s chamberlain with a glance. “Gris.” It was hard to like the man, but there was no denying that he served Neven’s interests without reserve or stint.

  Neven raised an eyebrow. “Have you broken fast yet?” His weary appearance stood in sharp contrast to the piercing gaze that still held power.

  Dahleven relaxed a little; tired or not, Neven was still strong. Then he remembered his business and tensed again. “No. I’ll eat later.” The smell of the food alerted his stomach, but he ignored its demands. He didn’t want the interruption of a servant bringing another set of dishes. “I need to talk to you, Father.”

  Neven’s brow rose again, but he asked no questions. “Very well.” He turned to his chamberlain. “We’ll conclude this later, Gris.” Gris stepped back against the wall, but didn’t invoke his Odin’s Veil Talent of unobtrusiveness. Neven turned back to Dahleven and gestured with one hand to another chair at the table.

  Dahleven sat, assuming a relaxed posture. It wasn’t that he felt like a boy lying about an error to his stern-faced father—not much anyway. He was also a vassal concealing a crime from the Kon. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, and it’s for his own protection. If Dahleven’s participation in Saeun’s crimes came out, it would be better if a Truthsayer Talent could verify that Neven knew nothing of it. What was it Celia called it? “Plausible deniability.”

  “Ragni meant to be here, but there’s no need to delay for him.”

  Neven waited, silent and attentive.

  “Wirmund is likely to arrest Lady Saeun today for possessing tools used in unsanctioned magic. Ragni said he’d warn Kady last night so she could dismiss Saeun beforehand.”

  Neven stroked one braid of his beard thoughtfully.

  Wirmund should have told Father this himself.

  Neven finally spoke. “So. The Kon of Nuvinland is ignorant of what goes on within his own household.”

  Dahleven winced inwardly, but kept his face neutral and said nothing. There was a great deal more that he wanted Neven to remain ignorant of.

  “That is what my enemies will say, is it not?” Neven added.

  “Your eyes and ears cannot be everywhere, Father.” And Saeun was discreet.

  “No, they cannot. But that is hardly a persuasive defense.”

  “There’s another possible complication,” Dahleven said.

  Neven raised his brows in apparently calm inquiry. His deceptively quiet anger was unnerving. It always was.

  Baldur’s Balls! Where is Ragni? He should be the one to tell Father. “Ragni asked Saeun to be his elskerinne.”

  “When?” The single word sounded like a whip-crack.

  “I’m not sure. The day before yesterday, I think.”

  “Did she accept?”

  Dahleven paused, caught off-guard by his own ignorance,
then his thoughts were interrupted by Kaidlin bursting into the room.

  “Father! Good morning!” His sister went to Neven’s side and kissed his cheek.

  Neven granted her the barest edge of a smile. “Have a seat, Kady. This involves you.” Then he returned his attention to Dahleven. “Did she accept?”

  Dahleven opened his mouth, but before he could speak Ragni arrived, looking even worse than their father.

  “Saeun is gone,” Ragni announced without greeting or preamble.

  Kaidlin’s eyes brightened, but Neven’s attention was on Ragni, so their father didn’t see. She quickly resumed a neutral expression.

  So Ragni got her out. Good.

  “Why would your elskerinne flee your embrace?” Neven’s tone was mild.

  Ragni cast a dark glance at Dahleven, then looked Neven straight in the eyes. “I asked her to be my mistress before I knew of her perfidy.”

  “No one knew, Father.” Kaidlin put in.

  “Before or after I suggested you save your attentions for Utta?” Neven held up a hand, forestalling Ragni’s reply. “Never mind. I trust you will denounce her at Wirmund’s side?”

  “Can you doubt it? I’m none too pleased to be made a fool of.” Ragni put just the right amount of snarl into his voice. He almost convinced Dahleven of his anger and disgust.

  “Nor should you be. How could you allow this to happen? How could it happen? To you, of all people?” Neven’s neutral tone was gone. His voice was scathing.

  Ragni’s jaw clenched once, but he kept hold of his temper. “I don’t read thoughts, Father, only feelings, and a woman’s feelings are a mess at the best of times.” Ragni ignored Kaidlin’s sputter of outrage and essayed a tight, lopsided smile. “My pride is as healthy as any in this family. I misinterpreted her fear. I thought she was afraid of losing me. I tried to allay that fear.”

  Neven shook his head. “Magnus must be told about your elskerinne, of course. He may not care to betroth his only daughter to someone of such questionable judgment, not to mention criminal connections. If he chooses to cancel the betrothal, better that it be done quietly before the ceremony.”

  “She’s not my elskerinne. She never accepted me.”

  “She didn’t? The fool!” Kaidlin exclaimed.

  “Thank the gods she was a fool,” Neven said. “There’s no need to tell Magnus of this, then.” He fixed Ragni with a sharp look. “Offer Wirmund any assistance he needs to find her. The woman betrayed our trust and broke the law.”

  Trust. Dahleven glanced at his father’s weary face, then looked away, trying not to think of Neven’s shame if Saeun’s service to his heir became known.

  *

  Saeun’s shoulder ached and a continuous blinding pain throbbed in her head. Someone with a steady tread carried her in strong, sure arms. Someone warm, who smelled of sunlight and pine trees. She tried to open her eyes but all she saw was a dark, unfocused blur that sent her head spinning. She wanted Gert. Gert had nursed her hurts since she was a child, and she felt so small now. She tried to call for her, but her voice was small too, too soft to be heard from the dark well she was in. She couldn’t even see the top now, and the water was rising. It was too hard to stay afloat. Saeun sank again, down into the deep waters lapping at her mind.

  *

  Saeun surfaced abruptly, like a bubble breaking free of deep water. The large warm hands of a warrior lay on her shoulder and brow. They were more than warm, they were hot; but the heat was fading, and with it her pain. She lay on a soft pallet in a large bower of spruce trees. She felt completely well. How could this be? She’d thought she was dying last night.

  The owner of the warm hands smiled down at her with tired brown eyes. “Welcome back.”

  The man had one of the kindest faces Saeun had ever seen, but she felt at an uncomfortable disadvantage lying on her back. The man shifted his hands to steady her as she sat up. After a few moments the tilting world righted itself.

  She sat on a pallet of blankets in a bower some three paces wide. Boughs were bent overhead and laced together with no apparent fastenings, creating a dense shelter that filtered the soft gray light. The wind still howled around them and an occasional gust of wind slipped inside along with a bit of snow.

  “I am called Valender,” the man said.

  Saeun hesitated. If he’d been sent after her, he already knew her name. If he hadn’t, she shouldn’t leave a trail by revealing too much. “You’re not a Tracker. You’re a Healer.”

  “That is true.” His dark green eyes crinkled at the corners. There was a quiet calmness about him that made her want to tell him everything.

  Saeun crushed the thought. “You’re not from Quartzholm, are you?”

  A short laugh made her turn. Two men sat against the thick boles of the trees that formed their shelter. One seemed almost a boy, the other was vaguely familiar. Both held strong bows across their bent knees and were dressed in fine though well-worn leathers.

  “No. We are not from that place. These are Joori and Treskin.” Valender introduced his companions.

  “I’m …Synda,” Saeun prevaricated. “Was it you who saved us last night? I wish I could thank you as your deeds deserve.”

  Joori’s grin broadened. “No thanks are necessary …Synda. It is a joy to fight our enemies when we can. It only made the pleasure sweeter to rescue a lovely lady as well.”

  Saeun almost giggled at the young man’s flowery speech, but she only smiled. He’d helped save her life, after all.

  Treskin gave Joori a long look.

  Saeun turned back to Valender. “Were you there, too? I don’t remember you, but then I don’t remember much.”

  “No, lady. These two brought you to me afterward to heal your hurts. And it was well that they did. That stone-warrior did you great harm when it fell on you.”

  “Stone warrior?”

  “How did you come to attract the attention of Edelstena?” Treskin asked.

  They know an Elf’s name? Who are these men? What men fought Dark Elves and called them enemies? And what had they been doing on the mountainside in the middle of the night? “You know her?”

  “We know of her. She seldom comes above ground.”

  “And if she had not escaped us, she would now be one with it,” Joori said.

  Treskin cuffed the young man on the shoulder. “Enemy or no, her years deserve more respect than that.”

  Joori lowered his head.

  Saeun’s eyes widened in surprise. Though it wasn’t uncommon to praise a valiant foe, she’d never heard anyone speak with respect for a Dark Elf. The memory of Gert falling beneath Edelstena’s blow suddenly surfaced and she glanced around. “Where’s Gert?”

  Treskin answered in a low voice. “She breaks fast with Baldur this morning.”

  Gert was dead? The pain of loss was almost physical. Saeun shut her eyes on the tears that welled. Gert’s warm, competent presence had comforted her for as long as she could remember. Saeun had left behind everything she’d known and loved, and now Gert had been taken from her, too. She was truly alone now. Lost in the mountains with no woodcraft skills and a long way to go. But worst of all, alone.

  Valender lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll not leave you in the forest, Synda.”

  Saeun attempted a smile. He’d said just the right thing. He must be an Empath like Ragni.

  “Our home is not far, and you will be welcome,” Treskin added.

  “It will be nice for a change not to be the youngest,” Joori chimed in.

  Did she look so small and lost as that? She was surely older than Joori, but she forbore to point that out to the young man.

  Treskin cuffed Joori again. “Mind your tongue.”

  Saeun wanted to accept their offer, but she knew it was too dangerous. She wasn’t that far from Quartzholm, and those searching for her would soon find her if she didn’t move on. And kind as they were, when her rescuers found out what she’d done, they’d give her up, and gladly.


  “Those who search will not find you, unless you wish it. You will be safe among us,” Valender said.

  Startled, Saeun turned wide eyes to Valender. How does he know I’m hunted?

  Valender answered her unasked question. “Two women alone at night on the mountain? It is not a common event. If you do not wish to be found, you may hide yourself among us.”

  She shook her head. “If they find me, your hospitality could cost you much.”

  “Then we won’t let them find you.”

  It was a risk. She didn’t know anything about these men, not really. Their generosity was a virtue, but she couldn’t help wonder what they might expect in return. She looked at each in turn, weighing her dwindling options. They had saved her and had offered her no insult. The alternative was freezing in the blowing snow.

  *

  “Did you really breathe life back into that boy?” Nai’awika’s granddaughter, Tiva’ti, asked Celia, referring to Sangor’s tale of her first days in Alfheim.

  Celia shrugged, embarrassed. She was giving Tiva’ti and Che’veyo the nickel tour of Quartzholm to supplement the official one Gudrun had given Nai’awika the day before. In the day and a half since they’d arrived, this was the first opportunity Celia had had for what could be called a casual conversation with any of the Tewakwe. Gudrun had warned her not to let down her guard and to remember that she was a member of the Kon’s family. She no longer spoke for just herself. Whatever Celia said could have consequences. Nevertheless, she’d come to feel at ease with Tiva’ti and Che’veyo.

  “He wasn’t really dead. Not quite. His heart was still beating. I could teach you what I did, if you like.”

  Tiva’ti’s eyes widened and she smiled, lighting up her heart-shaped face. “I would be honored to learn this from you!” Then she looked at the Shaman. “But perhaps it is something you should teach to Che’veyo instead? He is the healer, not me.”

  “I’d be happy to teach you both. You don’t have to be a healer to learn CPR.”

  “It’s true,” Fender said, winking at Tiva’ti. “She even taught me, though I’ve had no reason to use the knowledge, thank the gods.”