FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  “So long gone,” the Mother said as she lifted a hand and touched Saeun gently on the cheek. “But a whisper of his soul remains in you.”

  “In me? Who?”

  “Do your people not keep to the way? They once were strong in it. They danced with the groves and knew our names. We gave each other strength.”

  Saeun glanced at Treskin. What is she talking about?

  Treskin just smiled and crossed his arms.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Long ago your mothers’ mothers wove their magicks among us, and we welcomed them. At times we mingled. And sometimes, rarely, a child came of it. I hear a breath of our sister-son in you, daughter.”

  “In me?” No. It’s not possible. She knew her lineage. Like anyone of noble birth, she could name her forebears back ten generations and read the record of them for ten generations before that. They were all plain, human, stock.

  “Blood doesn’t lie,” Treskin said.

  “Why are you telling me this? Will I take root and sprout leaves?” Freyr and Freya! What will Ragni say? He seemed to accept her magic calmly enough, but this? She’d known that last night was their last time making love, but she’d thought that they’d have the journey at least to enjoy each other’s company. Don’t mind the moss growing over my toes, dear; my great-great-grandfather was a tree-spirit.

  The Mother smiled. “No daughter. Your blood is too weak to join us in the grove. But you are of us. You are not alone.” She gestured, and a woman barely out of girlhood came out of the forest, carrying a small sapling with its roots bundled in a shimmery silver cloth. “You go to face a danger to us all. Away from us, we cannot help you, so one of us must accompany you. Dances-in-Light has asked to go.”

  The younger woman stepped forward and handed the sapling to Saeun. It was no taller than a two-year-old child, and not as heavy. “Take me to your home and plant me there. Then I can call our sisters to help.”

  Grief threatened to choke her. “I have no home.”

  Dances-in-Light smiled softly. “Our roots always know the soil of our sprouting. Your heart knows its true home.”

  Quartzholm and Ragni. Whether she could go there and be with him or not, that would always be home. Saeun looked doubtfully at the girl. “How can you help? Quartzholm is under siege. Are you a warrior? Are the others?”

  Dances-in-Light shook her head. “We do not fight as humans or Elves do. But we can help. Take me. We will stand with you. You will not face the winds alone ever again.”

  Saeun’s heart thudded. Never alone. Never to be cast out, as she had been by her brother’s wife, as she had been for her magic. The tree-woman’s words reverberated in her soul, even though she didn’t believe them.

  Never return a gift unopened. “What do I do?”

  “It is the Resting Time. I need very little. I ask only that you do not open the cloth, and when you return me to the earth, sister, gift me with a little of yourself.”

  Dances-in-Light touched the sapling that Saeun held cradled against her chest, wrapping her hand around the trunk. Only her hand wasn’t wrapped around the young tree, it was in it. In the trunk. And so was her wrist. Her arm followed, and the rest of her, sliding in as smooth as a lover between silken sheets. In the space of two breaths she was gone.

  Saeun stared, astonished. How could a full-sized person fit in there? She thought the sapling ought to be heavier now, but it wasn’t.

  She’d have to pack even lighter, now that she was taking a tree on their quest. The Elves would understand, but how would she explain this to the others?

  What would she tell Ragni?

  *

  Powder crunched under Celia’s snow shoes as she walked in the trough beaten down by her companions’ feet. They’d left the Elvenholt at mid-morning. They’d planned to leave at dawn, but they’d had to wait for Saeun and Treskin.

  The younger woman had shown up carrying a huge twig. Or was it a spindly bush? Definitely not your usual camping and adventure gear. And all Saeun had said about it was, “I’ve been asked to bring this back to Quartzholm.” Treskin had nodded as if that was all that need be said on the matter, and the Elves had made ready to leave.

  The air was crisp and scented with pine, the sky a clear blue. It was the kind of day that would have lightened Celia’s heart if their mission hadn’t been so urgent. Now, after half a day of climbing, they were all tired. At least the humans were. If the Elves felt the effort of walking lightly over the snow, they didn’t show it.

  Most of the Elves kept apart from the humans. Che’veyo tried the hardest to engage them, but they gave him only short answers. Eventually even he gave up. I guess they’re not too happy about being ordered to do this. They may not agree with the Dark Elves, but they don’t want to fight them, either. Only Treskin and Valender seemed friendly, and they mostly talked to Saeun.

  Treskin called a halt before a fissure in the side of a tall, shear rock-face. “This is where we enter the realm of the Dark Elves,” he said. “Take off your snow shoes. You won’t need them from here.”

  When all were ready, they followed Treskin into the fissure. The rocky face of the hill loomed over Celia briefly before swallowing her. Behind her Rovdir nervously cleared his throat again. He wasn’t at all happy about using the natural clefts of the Dark Elves. She knew how he felt.

  The Elves carried glow globes. This close to the surface they weren’t concerned yet about the light attracting unwanted attention. Eventually, though, they’d have to douse their lamps and Utta would have to lead them all. In absolute darkness, the Light Elves would be nearly as handicapped as the humans. Celia grimaced. She’d traveled that way once before and hadn’t cared for it—even if she had been holding Dahleven’s hand at the time.

  The floor was rougher here than it had been on that earlier trip and the walls were icy. The tunnels she’d traveled before had been created by Stoneshapers’ Talents to ease the movement of winter trade goods between holdings. This was little more than a crack in the mountain. Their progress was slow; they scrambled over folded stone and hopped over small crevasses every few yards. It was tiring, but not as exhausting as using the Dream-door. She hated to admit it, but Ragni had been right. Since she’d stopped using it, her strength had returned to normal.

  They came to the first splitting of the ways. Celia moved to the front and pictured the distinctive rock formations she’d seen in Saeun’s scrying bowl. Nothing. She tried again, again with no joy. Why wasn’t it working? A sick anxiety clenched her stomach. She’d only had a Talent for six months, since she’d come here from Midgard, but now it was a part of her. A part of her that was missing.

  Then two of the Elves, Fallir and Eksa, touched her shoulders.

  Immediately she felt her Talent tugging insistently at the pit of her stomach, compelling her downward and toward the left. Relief flooded her tight muscles. “This way.” She pointed.

  The next time her choice wasn’t as clear. The tugging pulled her almost directly toward the midpoint between two paths. The only consistent thing was the sense that what she wanted was below them …far below.

  “I’m not sure. This way, I think.” She indicated the right hand fissure. Having a psychic lodestone point to whatever she wanted to Find didn’t always help in getting her from point A to point B.

  I wish Dahleven were here. They made a good team, with her Finding and his Pathfinding. She thought of him defending their home against who knew what kind of threat, and shivered.

  She checked again twenty yards down the tunnel. The locus of the tug had moved far off to her left. “I think we have to go back and take the other way. This isn’t right.”

  No one complained, though one or two of the Elves raised their brows. Then they turned and trudged back to the junction, and on down the other arm.

  And so it went. Strong but confusing indications of direction, crawling through tight spots, bumping heads on low ceilings.

  The Elves called a halt at mid-afternoon.
At least that’s what time they said it was. Maybe they have some kind of internal clock. I’ll have to ask Saeun.

  She had a lot to ask Saeun. The way the younger woman carried her twig slung across her chest like a baby in a carry sack, with one arm protecting it from the least little jostle, was very curious.

  They rested, sitting across from each other in the passageway, leaning on their packs against the rough walls. At least the floor is relatively smooth here. Celia slumped next to Fallir. “Would you get some journey bread out of my pack for me?” she asked, turning so the Elf could reach. He pulled out a wrapped packet and handed it to her. “Thanks. You want some?” She pulled a round from the packet and offered it to him.

  “No.” He almost sounded offended by her offer.

  She couldn’t blame him. Journey bread was nutritious, but tasted awful. “What is it you and Eksa do when you touch me? How do you make my Talent work?” Celia spoke softly, but the close confines magnified it.

  Fallir remained silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer.

  “We know something of the Dark Ones’ wards,” Eksa said.

  “That doesn’t tell me much. How does it work?”

  “Is it not enough that it does?” Fallir said. He shifted, and the hilt of his Khryss blade poked him in the side.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “It will have to be.” He focused all his attention on unbuckling his scabbard from his baldric, then placed the blade on the ground between them like a barrier.

  He’d clearly said all he was going to on the subject. Oookay. Let’s try something different. “I thought the Dark Elves were stone workers of some sort. Why aren’t these passages easier to get through?”

  Fallir slowly turned his head to look down his nose at her, but said nothing.

  “Because they don’t need to make them nice to use them,” Baruq said from her other side. She hadn’t heard him approach. “The earth answers them and steps aside if they need to move something large, but mostly they just dance through as lightly as one of the Lios Alfar would step through the forest.”

  “Oh. Thank you, Baruq.” Then a chilling thought hit her. “Can they move as easily through the walls of Quartzholm?”

  “No. Man-worked stone will not answer their call as this natural rock does. But,” he added as Celia began to relax, “they have other ways.”

  Celia looked at the Khryss blade. “Lord Kaeron said only the Elves could use these. What makes them so special?” The blade’s hilt was beautiful and shaped to accommodate an Elf’s long fingered hand. She reached out her fingers to trace the design carved there.

  “No!” Baruq shouted.

  Fallir’s hand shot out quicker than she could see and grasped her wrist almost painfully. “It is ill-mannered to touch another’s weapon without invitation.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Release the lady,” Fender growled.

  Fallir dropped her hand as though it were refuse. Celia folded her arms tightly across her.

  “The blade’s power comes from—”

  “Baruq!” Fallir interrupted.

  “She should know. They all should,” Eksa said. “For their safety.”

  Fallir clenched his jaw and said nothing.

  Eksa spoke. “The Dwarves made these blades for us, and only we can use them. It would kill a mortal to wield a Khryss.”

  “You haven’t enough life in you to power the blade and live,” Valender added. “Even we do not use them without cost.”

  Celia stared at the scabbarded blade lying only a few inches away from her hip, and shifted away from it. “Thanks for telling me. Could you move it, please?”

  Fallir’s lip curled. “You’re safe as long as you don’t draw the blade.”

  Celia bit back the sharp words that leapt to her tongue and ate the rest of her snack in silence.

  Soon they were on the move again.

  Their way descended steadily and the air grew warmer. At each splitting, Fallir and Eksa put a hand on her shoulder and she called on her Talent to direct her. The sense that they were getting closer slowly grew, even though she couldn’t feel her Talent unless the Elves were touching her. It made her want to hurry to the next splitting of the ways so she could see how much progress they’d made—and be reassured that her Talent still worked. She didn’t realize she’d widened the distance between her and the others until Eksa touched her arm.

  “Hold. The others fall behind.”

  She nodded, even though she wanted to keep moving. When Fallir, Treskin, and Fender came into view from around a bend, she turned and went on again. Eksa didn’t try to stop her, he just followed.

  She didn’t get far before she came to another juncture. She could tell that they were on the same level with the cavern now, but again the choice of path wasn’t clear. To her left a very narrow cleft opened. It was so slim they’d have to take off their packs to scrape through. The path that opened to the right was wide and welcoming by comparison. Two could walk abreast there, and the floor was almost smooth. Her Talent pulled at her, directly between the two. She shook her head and stepped apart from the Elves. The insistent tugging dropped away.

  “Please tell me we’re not going into that crack,” Utta said.

  Fender looked down the wider way and shook his head. “It’s too easy.”

  Ragni joined them. “You think it’s a trap?”

  “Do they not ward the way to their ritual chambers?” Tiva’ti asked.

  “Indeed. But I’ve been watching for wards and have yet to detect any,” Eksa said.

  “Nor I,” Fallir agreed.

  “If I were commanding their security, there would be a magical ward and a guard.” Fender gestured at the broader tunnel. “That looks too attractive to not be trapped.”

  “Which way do we go, Celia?” Ragni asked.

  “Are we close?” Saeun added.

  “Yes, though I can’t know how much the passage will twist around before we get there. We should probably lose the lights, just to be safe. As for which way we should go, neither one feels more direct than the other, so we might as well be comfortable,” she said, indicating the wider way. “Especially if most of us are going to be walking blind.”

  They lined up, with each of them holding onto a rope tied around Utta’s waist. Then, with subtle gesture and a murmured word, the Fey doused the glowing globes. The Elves were nearly as blind in the absolute darkness as the humans were. Only Utta could see well, thanks to her Talent. Celia could tell that neither Ragni nor Rovdir were happy about Utta taking the lead, but both apparently had enough sense to see she was the only logical choice and kept their mouths shut for once.

  The rope jerked as each of them adapted their gait to fit their neighbors’. Celia felt as if her walk had turned into a cautious waddle, and grinned at the image of them trailing Utta like a bunch of grim, well-armed ducklings. At least I don’t have to worry about bumping my head. Fallir, in front of her, was much taller. If there was a clearance problem, he’d find out first.

  Utta stopped. “Hold up,” she whispered.

  Third in line, Celia stopped before she ran into Fallir’s back. The others accordioned up behind her.

  “What is it?” Fender’s whisper barely reached her ears from beyond Eksa.

  Utta turned back to them. “We’ve come to a sharp left turn in the passage. About fifty feet down it turns right again. There’s a medallion embedded in the end wall facing us. Is that something to worry about?”

  “Describe it,” Fallir commanded.

  “It’s about as wide as my two hands together. It looks like silver, and has a carving on it like two men facing away from each other.”

  “Is there another on the wall facing the first?”

  She heard and felt Utta move. “Yes. Same symbols, but that one looks like it’s made of gold.”

  “We have to go back,” Fallir said.

  “What? Why?” Celia asked. She did not want to go through that crack i
n the rock.

  “We cannot pass. The medallions are meant to warn our Dark brothers that their Light kindred are in the passage. We’ll lose all chance of surprise.”

  “Can’t you do anything to disarm it?” Celia asked.

  “No. We’d trigger the alarm before we could get close enough.”

  Celia was silent. They would have to go back. Into that narrow little crack in the wall. Her hands felt clammy just thinking about it. Shit.

  “Which is worse—having them know we’re here, or leaving behind our packs and supplies so we can scrape through that crack?” Rovdir asked. “We don’t even know if it goes all the way. And even if it does, we could wind up squeezing out into the cavern just so they can pick us off one at a time.”

  “We don’t have to do either,” Valender said feeling his way forward. It sounded like Saeun was with him. “Lady Saeun can destroy the medallions.”

  “How?” The disbelief in Fallir’s voice was almost visible.

  “You’re sure they only detect Elves?” Saeun asked.

  Eksa answered. “Yes.”

  “Utta, will you lead me to them?”

  “Destroy the silver one first,” Valender said.

  The rope tugged as Utta untied herself. Celia listened as she and Saeun left them. The seconds crept by like lame snails. The dark seemed to press in on her eyes and she tried to imagine infinite space above her instead of half a mountain.

  How long had they been gone? Surely if something happened to them we’d hear it, right?

  “Where are they?” Ragni breathed. Celia could almost feel him vibrating with anxiety.

  Then she heard soft steps coming closer.

  “It’s done,” Saeun said quietly. “We can pass.”

  “How did you do that?” Fallir demanded.

  “I destroyed them,” Saeun said.

  “But how?” Fallir pressed.

  “Isn’t it enough to know that I did?” Saeun asked.

  “No!”

  “It will have to be,” Tiva’ti said.