FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

Saeun groaned and shifted her aching arm to rest across the sapling by her side. Lady Celia had splinted it as gently as she could, but it still hurt.

  Che’veyo leaned forward, turning unseeing eyes in her direction. Somehow Edelstena’s magic, or his own, had taken his vision. “You’re in pain.”

  “A little. My arm will heal.” As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to call them back. Valender couldn’t help Che’veyo any more than he could help Ragni. The Shaman might never recover his sight.

  “It is your spirit I speak of, Lady Saeun. It suffers even more than your arm.”

  Saeun blinked back unexpected tears and nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

  “It is natural to grieve that which is lost to us. But we must remember that for the green shoot to grow, the old must pass away.”

  “Does knowing that make the grief any less?”

  “Not usually.” Che’veyo smiled. “May I sing? It may sooth your heart.”

  Tiva’ti lay her hand on his arm. “You’re tired.”

  “This will do as much for me as for all of you,” Che’veyo answered. His sightless eyes twinkled. “You can even sing along if you want.”

  His voice lifted in a simple melody. He’d hardly sung more than a few words when Tiva’ti laughed and joined in, her higher voice complimenting his deeper tones. The song wound through Saeun’s mind, repeating in variation. There must have been some magic in it, because she felt the anxious gnawing of her fears subside, and before she knew her eyes were heavy, she slept.

  She awoke to find Valender leaning over her, one hand on her arm, another on her brow. He’d removed her splint. Her arm tingled and grew warm. It ached sharply for a moment, then the feeling faded.

  He smiled down at her. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten you? I just needed to rest a bit.”

  Someone had eased her to the floor, saving her from a stiff neck. “How long?” she asked, sitting up. Her injury didn’t even twinge and the dark purple of the bruise was fading. Saeun lifted her arm, turning it this way and that, smiling at the pain-free movement, then looked up and saw Ragni’s avid expression.

  “Could you, would you, when we get to Quartzholm…” He cleared his throat. “Lord Valender, my father the Kon lies stricken in his bed, unable to move or speak,” Ragni said. “Could your skills help him? Would you try?”

  Valender looked at him gravely. “You honor me.” He nodded. “I will do whatever I can.”

  Treskin stood. “I do not believe we will be set upon, but I would rather not rely on that. Edelstena’s allies are probably all arrayed against the mortals now, but I think it best we move from here.”

  No longer concerned with taking the Dark Elves unaware, they used the glow globes to light their path. Treskin was confident they would find the passage ahead clear—at least until they neared Quartzholm. Fallir remembered every turning they’d made, and once they were out of the narrow fissure, they moved as fast as those still recovering from their wounds could go. Baruq rode on Che’veyo’s shoulder and between his constant description of the terrain and Masale’s guiding hand, the Shaman kept pace with the others.

  They reached a place where they departed from the way they’d come, and Lady Celia took the lead again, using her Talent to Find the route to the tunnels below Quartzholm. It felt like they walked forever, sometimes climbing, other times descending, always in a bubble of light.

  They walked until the humans were wavering on their feet, then they slept and ate and started over again.

  Saeun tried to note the changes in the rock they passed, the colors, the shapes, to find some sense of progress. Sometimes the ceiling lowered until they had to stoop; in other places the floor was broken and uneven. They coughed and hurried past places where the air was thick and stagnant, rested in the rare spots where some hidden shaft brought a hint of fresh breeze. Despite that, it began to seem as though they never moved, and merely tread the same section of tunnel over and over endlessly.

  And with every step, Ragni grew quieter. He’d cursed the first time they’d stopped to rest. He couldn’t tie his trews again after relieving himself. Holding his laces, he’d turned away from Utta and herself, letting Lord Fendrikanin fasten them, his expression set in a rigid mask. She’d bit her lip to keep from weeping.

  Saeun wanted to offer him some comfort, but what solace could there be for the loss of the life he’d known? She knew all too well what that felt like, and no words could make it any easier to bear.

  They stopped again and slept where the natural passage emptied into a tunnel shaped by men. Lord Fendrikanin recognized the place. They were half a day from Quartzholm.

  Half a day. Half a day until she had to say goodbye to Ragni. It had been hard enough to leave him the first time. She didn’t know where she’d get the strength to do it again. She couldn’t go back, no matter what Ragni might imagine. Even if she vowed to renounce her magic, Father Wirmund would never allow her any peace, and if Ragni tried to protect her, he would only drag himself down with her. Assuming his will carried any weight now with the Overprest. What influence would Ragni have if he was no longer the Second? What place would he have?

  A small hope whispered in the back of Saeun’s mind. Perhaps Ragni would be willing to stay with her. Perhaps they could live together among the Elves.

  She looked over at him talking with Lady Utta, his mittened left hand resting in his lap. The echoing stone allowed them little privacy, especially when Utta’s voice grew sharp.

  “We’ve been over this, Ragni. No and no. I do not want my freedom, and I do not release you from your oath. And I do not want to discuss this again. Now do something useful with your mouth and eat your journey bread.” Utta got up and stalked to the edge of the light.

  Saeun’s small hope died. If Lady Utta would not release him, Ragni would not forsake his promise to her. But at least Ragni wouldn’t be alone.

  Saeun hesitated, then went to join Utta. “I’m glad he will have you when this is over,” she said softly.

  “And you, too,” Utta answered in the same soft tone.

  Saeun looked away. “No. He belongs to you and Quartzholm. I can’t go back.” She was as uprooted as the little sapling she carried. “I violated the law.”

  “An unjust law.”

  “Father Wirmund won’t agree.” Especially when it comes out that I have tree-folk in my lineage. His heart was as cold as an Ice Jontun’s breath.

  Utta said nothing for a moment. What could she say?

  “He needs you. I need you. Our lives will be better if your love and friendship are part of them.”

  Saeun stared for a moment, astonished and honored by so open a declaration from Ragni’s betrothed. She blinked back tears. “Thank you for that. Nothing would please me more than to become your sister through Ragni’s choice. But the world is as it is.”

  Utta’s lips pressed tightly together, but then a slight smile curved them. “Was Ragni always this stone-headed?”

  “Only when he cares about something—or someone.”

  “Then he won’t let you go.”

  “He won’t have a choice.”

  Utta sighed and offered a wry smile. “You’re as block-headed as he is.”

  They slept and went on again. Lord Fendrikanin led them. Their progress was easier and faster, now that they traveled tunnels made by men. They rested once, and then at mid-day they stopped. After some discussion, they decided against heading directly for Quartzholm. Instead, Lord Fendrikanin brought them by a roundabout path to an egress on the side of the hill a little beside and behind the castle. From there they would be able to look down the hillside and take a measure of the situation, avoiding any Dark Elves that might be trying Quartzholm’s defenses from below.

  “There should be an exit just around that bend up ahead, but I don’t see any light.” Lord Fendrikanin said. “I’ll scout it out. It may just be blocked by a heavy snowfall,”

  “Of course there’s no light,” Fal
lir said. “It’s night.”

  “Night?” Lord Fendrikanin asked. “Are you sure? How do you know?”

  Fallir just returned him an arch look.

  “It is part of our nature to know the turning of the spheres,” Valender said.

  “It would be nice if you’d told us,” Lord Fendrikanin said.

  “Would that have helped you?” Fallir asked in a manner that made it clear he didn’t care.

  Saeun knew how Lord Fendrikanin must feel. It seemed strange to think they’d been walking at night and sleeping during the day without knowing it.

  Treskin moved forward. “I’ll scout outside.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Utta offered.

  “You will not!” Ragni declared.

  “My Talent allows me to see as well as Treskin does.”

  “Nay, lady,” Treskin said. “Though you can see in the dark even better than we can, you cannot move as lightly nor as silently. You must remain behind.”

  Utta frowned but nodded with a sharp jerk of her head.

  “Fallir?” Treskin asked.

  The other Elf rose and they left.

  The rest of them settled down to wait for the two Elves, the glow globes half shielded in their carriers.

  What forces do the Dark Elves command? Has Quartzholm already fallen? She couldn’t return, but she’d made friends there. Saeun started to fidget, picking at her roughened cuticles until Valender stilled her restless hands with a brief touch. The minutes crept by.

  Soundlessly, Treskin and Fallir were among them again.

  “What’s happening out there?” Lady Celia asked, leaning forward.

  “There is little we can do,” Treskin said in a dull voice. “There are at least three hundred Svart Alfar warriors ranged outside the walls.”

  “Only three hundred? This is good news! Lord Dahleven can wait them out,” Lord Fendrikanin said. Then his voice changed. “Unless they have siege engines. Do they?”

  “No. They don’t need them. They have a hundred stone-warriors concealed by a myst,” Fallir answered.

  “A hundred!” Baruq exclaimed.

  “A myst!” Valender said.

  “So there’s a mist. So what?” Lady Celia said.

  “All right, there are four hundred ranged against Quartzholm. That’s still not that big a threat,” Fender said.

  “You don’t understand. The stone-warriors will bring down the walls, and the myst is a conjured fog, which will allow them to work even during the day,” Eska said. “Quartzholm may have greater numbers, but your Lord Dahleven has no Khryss blades and no one to wield them. There is little time, and we are too few to oppose them.”

  Saeun’s heart froze in her chest.

  “No!” Lady Celia cried. “We have to do something!” She jumped up, one hand straying to her still flat belly.

  Lord Fendrikanin stood and reached for her, as Treskin moved between Lady Celia and the exit. She stopped, looking from one to another of them as if for some sign of hope.

  Quartzholm would fall without help. Saeun looked down at Dances-in-Light beside her and remembered the Mother’s promise.

  “Take me to the edge of the forest,” she said.

  “What?” Ragni asked.

  “Why?” Utta demanded.

  Treskin nodded, reaching out to help Saeun to her feet.

  “Wait!” Ragni said. “You can’t go out there!”

  “He’s right,” Lady Celia said. “There are three hundred Dark Elves waiting out there to shoot your ass.”

  “They are preoccupied with the siege,” Treskin said. “And what patrols there are we will evade.”

  “At least tell me what you think you’re doing,” Ragni said.

  Saeun paused. She’d evaded his questions about the small tree she carried, saying only that the tree-folk had asked her to bring it. He’d accepted her silence, but she’d seen him looking at it, the question in his eyes. Now the time had come to act. Lady Utta was right. Ragni wouldn’t let her go, and that would harm his standing even more than his withered hand. She had to tell him of her lineage. Then he would put her aside himself.

  She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t do it. Feeling like a coward, she said, “I don’t know what help this will be, if any. But the Aspen-Mother asked me to plant this tree near Quartzholm, and she promised help.”

  “How can a …a twig …help against Elves and stone-warriors?” Ragni demanded.

  “I don’t know!” She wished she did. “I just know I promised to do this.”

  “You told us that before. Why would you give such an oath to the tree-folk?”

  Saeun looked away and saw Treskin arch a brow. He saw no reason for her to prevaricate. He thought her lineage was an honorable one. Of course he did. He was an Elf.

  Saeun stared into Ragni’s upturned face and swallowed hard. “Because they’re my kin,” she said. “Some great-great-granddam of mine was well and truly Fey-marked.”

  Ragni stared, saying nothing.

  Treskin touched her arm. “Let’s go while it’s still dark.”

  Saeun nodded and turned from Ragni’s astonishment before it could change into disgust and horror. Treskin led her out of the tunnel and slowly through the forest, stopping at the edge. Her heart ached, but she forced herself to think only of the job at hand. Saeun looked down at the sapling strapped across her chest, then out into the starlit meadow. She would be visible out there if any Dark Elves were looking, but she didn’t think Dances-in-Light would want to be planted under the canopy of the other trees. She walked out into the starlight and knelt some fifty feet from the giant pines.

  She cleared away the layer of snow, brushing and pushing it from the not quite frozen ground. She hacked with her dagger at the soil until she’d dug a small cavity, growing sweaty with the effort despite the cold. Treskin stood over her, silently keeping watch. Finally the space was big enough.

  Saeun gently placed Dances-in-Light’s silver wrapped roots in the hole. She started to push the dirt back around the sapling’s roots, and stopped, stilled by an almost heard whisper. What was it the tree-woman had said? I must gift of myself.

  Quickly Saeun cleaned her dagger in the snow, then sliced her newly healed arm. She felt Treskin startle behind her, but he said nothing as she let her blood flow onto the aspen’s roots.

  How much? She let the blood continue its steady trickle. She wouldn’t be stingy with her gifting. She pumped her fist to increase the flow. They needed a lot of help.

  “Enough.” Treskin knelt beside her and pressed his hand over her wound. “The Mother asked only for a gift, not your life. Your sister will thrive.”

  Saeun nodded, wincing at the pain. “What will happen now?”

  “I know not. Only the Norns can see the Fate they weave.”

  *

  “I can’t sleep,” Celia said. She was as tired as the others and she knew she ought to rest but she couldn’t close her eyes, not with Quartzholm about to fall. “I’ll keep watch with Baruq and Annatt.”

  The Elf’s damaged arm had nearly recovered, thanks to Valender’s efforts. But Ragni’s hand remained twisted and hidden in his mitten. A good orthopedic surgeon might be able to help him. Or a burn specialist. And Che’veyo could use an ophthalmologist. It was one of her few regrets about leaving Midgard: giving up modern medicine. Assuming a medical doctor could even treat a magical injury. And no orthopedist could have healed Saeun’s arm as Valender had.

  “No, my lady. You need to rest,” Fender protested.

  “I’m sure Valender could help you sleep,” Saeun said.

  “Or I,” Che’veyo added.

  “Your worry and wakefulness cannot help him, Celia,” Ragni said. “Dahl would want you to take care of yourself and the child.”

  “Will you let me use the Dream-door?” Celia asked.

  “Of course not!” Ragni said, looked offended she’d even asked.

  “That would be worse than no sleep at all,” Valender said.<
br />
  “Then I’ll keep watch.”

  “Celia—” Fender started.

  “A little lost sleep won’t harm her,” Utta intervened. “Watch for a while. I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”

  Celia smiled her gratitude at Utta for her support. Surprisingly, the others backed off.

  In a short time, everyone was settled down in their blankets. Annatt kept watch several paces back along the way they’d come up the tunnel; she and Baruq watched at the entrance. The air was still, but it was bitterly cold in the pre-dawn hour. Baruq had even accepted the offer of Saeun’s extra scarf and wrapped it like a cloak around his shoulders, the edge dragging on the ground behind him. They didn’t speak, and Celia was grateful the little man-thing didn’t try to offer empty hope and reassurance. On the other hand, the situation must be really bad if the cocky little pinnsvin wouldn’t even boast about how his fellows still in Quartzholm would save the day.

  Saeun and Treskin returned and settled in quietly among the others. What a bombshell she dropped on Ragni. He hadn’t said a word after she left to plant her—what? Sister? Cousin? Celia winced at the memory. When Saeun and Treskin had returned there’d been a flurry of activity of warming her, and Valender healing her wound. Ragni had watched, an agony of concern and confusion in his eyes.

  He’d tried to speak to her. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Saeun wouldn’t look at him. She just shook her head.

  “It doesn’t!”

  “It does matter,” Saeun said in a soft, dark voice. “It matters to me. I have …kin …I never knew. What does that make me? Where do I belong? Certainly not in Quartzholm.”

  Ragni opened his mouth and shut it, his jaw muscles working. He reached out and tried to turn her toward him, but she resisted his touch. Shoulders slumping, he dropped his hand.

  Celia had to turn away from the pain on her friends’ faces.

  She looked up at the sky. A few stars twinkled between the branches of the trees crowding close. She didn’t understand why they were torturing themselves over this. Saeun was still Saeun. The same woman Ragni had fallen in love with.

  She wondered how Dahl would feel about having a dryad in the family.