“We choose you to fill the number, Vatar,” Pidar said again.
Vatar held up his hands. “Not me. You want someone younger. Somebody from last year’s manhood test.”
“We choose you,” the young man insisted.
Thekila gave him a little shove. “Go ahead.”
“I’m too old for this,” he whispered to her.
She gave him a harder shove. “Oh, no you’re not!”
Vatar raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen a jarai tournament.” But he rose and joined the team.
Thekila and Quetza laughed as they watched the game, even if they only understood half of it. Vatar was much better at it than he had made it sound. When the Lion Clan finally lost to the Horse Clan in the last round, he came back to join them.
“I’ll pay for that tomorrow,” he said, flexing his left wrist and hand. “But it was fun,” he added with a smile.
When the fermented fruit drink went around at the end of the feast, it seemed that every chief of the tribe stopped to salute Vatar, which required that he drink, too. He was feeling quite woozy by the time Pa and Uncle Bion raised him to his feet and started leading him toward the council tent.
“Where are you taking me? What’s up?” Vatar asked in confusion.
Thekila reached out to stop them, but Mother put her hand on Thekila’s arm. “Leave them. It’s all right, I promise.”
~
Vatar woke late the next morning. Until he could construct a proper hut for them, he and Thekila were forced to share with Pa and Mother—and Kiara, Fenar, and Theklan, as well as the twins.
He blinked at the light. “Why didn’t you wake me? I need to start work on our hut.”
Thekila put her hand on his shoulder. “Arcas, Cestus, and Orleus are taking care of it for you.”
Vatar reached to scratch his left shoulder. Why would he have such a fierce itch there?
Mother’s voice stopped him. “Don’t scratch that tattoo!”
Vatar’s brow furrowed. “Tattoo? I don’t have a tattoo there.”
“You do now,” Mother said. “You should have known that the successful completion of an Ordeal would require a tattoo. It signifies your acceptance back into the tribe.”
“Why am I always drunk when I get a tattoo?” Vatar asked no one in particular.
Pa laughed from the doorway. “Because that’s the best way to get you to hold still. The elders have known that trick for generations.”
Vatar tried to look down at his own shoulder, unsuccessfully. “Thekila, you can see it. What kind of tattoo is it?”
Thekila leaned close to examine his shoulder. “There’s a circle and . . . an ‘X’ inside the circle . . . and that looks like a leaf . . . and some kind of animal—maybe a cat,” she said.
“A ring to signify a completed Ordeal,” Mother cut in as she prepared to put some salve on the scabs. “Crossed spears to signify the challenge, an oak leaf to signify the Forest. Cestus suggested the charging lion as your particular symbol.”
“I like it,” Thekila said, taking a dab of the salve and reaching out to touch the new tattoo.
Excerpt
from
Dual Magics Book 2
The Ignored Prophecy
Coming in December 2014
Chapter 1: Thunder on the Plains
Vatar drew in a deep breath, relishing the scent of the grass under his horse's hooves and even the slightly charged smell of the impending storm. The plains were a great circle around him, horizon to horizon. It was good to be home.
One side of his lips quirked up at that thought. It was indeed good to be home at last, but here he was, riding away from his village and most of his family. Much as he loved all of them and had missed them, it wasn't possible to get much privacy in a Dardani village. Newlyweds should really have at least their own hut to themselves, not have to share it with his two-year-old twins and Thekila's younger brother, who'd insisted on following them. Though the twins weren't nearly as much of an impediment as an eleven-year-old boy. He'd been forced to invent these “riding lessons” for Thekila in order to manufacture a little privacy.
He turned his head to check on Thekila. It wasn't all made up. She'd never ridden a horse until she came out here with him and she did need to learn. It never ceased to amaze him how that petite body could contain a spirit that was so immense—and beautiful. The fiery red hair, dulled to the color of cooling embers under the heavy clouds, seemed a fair indication of how brightly that spirit shone for him.
Thekila turned in her saddle to look behind them for the third time.
“Expecting someone?” Vatar asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
Thekila shrugged. “Just checking to make sure Theklan hasn't tried to follow us again.”
Vatar reached across to take her hand. “He won't be following us today. I asked Kiara to keep an eye on him.” He couldn't suppress a grin. His little sister was nothing if not persistent.
Thekila's gasp turned into a giggle. “You didn't. You know how embarrassed he is to be followed around by a girl.”
Vatar's smile widened unrepentantly. “He'll recover. Someday, he may even like it. Anyway, Kiara will make sure he stays where he's supposed to be. The whole point of this is to have a little time away from your brother, after all.”
Thekila grinned wickedly. “I know.”
Vatar leaned over to give her a promissory kiss. Not too far now to the place he had in mind. They'd be snug under cover of the tent tied behind his saddle before the lowering clouds released their rain.
They hadn't gone much farther when Vatar felt the familiar awareness of lions granted by his connection to the Spirit of the Lion. He'd missed that almost as much as his family while he was away, so he welcomed it now. He did turn just a little further to the east, though. Just because he was Lion Clan didn't mean it was safe to ride too close to a hunting pride.
“Why did we turn?” Thekila asked.
“Lions. Over there.” Vatar pointed to the west.
Thekila looked where Vatar pointed. “I can't see anything. Can we go closer for a look?”
Vatar shook his head. She never seemed to tire of the unfamiliar—to her—creatures of the plains. “Not this time. They're hunting.”
Thekila's head wheeled back to him. “Hunting? What are they hunting? Not us?”
Vatar shook his head. His sense of the lions only told him they were hunting, not what, but he couldn't expect her to understand that. It wasn't a form of magic she was familiar with. He stared off where he knew the lions were, trying to see any herd of prey animals that might have drawn the lions' attention. Nothing obvious. “Without going closer than is really safe—”
Vatar broke off and gulped. Overlaid on his own vision was another viewpoint—a scene in grays and blacks. Vatar gripped his reins tighter as the unfamiliar perspective eclipsed his own. That point of view was focused tightly on a herd of wild horses. As if he were among them, Vatar saw lions moving to flank the herd. Saw the view become disjointed as he—or what felt like himself—ran forward, scattering the herd. His vision centered on one horse, weaker than the rest. He almost felt the sensation and smelled the blood as his claws dug into the horse's flank.
Vatar's horse—his real horse, the one he was riding—tossed its head irritably. Vatar gasped and blinked, clearing his head of the alien viewpoint. He forced his hand to loosen on the reins he'd unconsciously tightened. “No. They're not hunting us.” He just managed to keep a tremor out of his voice.
With the hand away from Thekila, Vatar covertly made the warding sign of his clan, forefinger and thumb mimicking the open mouth of a roaring lion. His heart still beat hard against his rib cage. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before. Sensing lions was normal; this kind of . . . melding with the lion, as if the lion were part of him—or he was part of it—that wasn't supposed to happen. The disturbing thought that he hadn't actually done anything to make something so abnormal happen made it even worse. It m
ade him feel as if he wasn't in complete control of himself. Vatar didn't like that at all.
~
Thekila tried not to hunch smaller in her saddle. The sheer size of the plains really was overwhelming for someone not born to these wide horizons. Back in the village, the huts at least gave her the feeling of a more human scale. Out here, there was nothing but grass and sky. It was just immensity, with no beginning or end, and it made her feel incredibly small. The threatening storm clouds only made it all the more oppressive.
As far as she could see, the world stretched away, gently rolling, covered in tall grass that came up to her horse's knees. No snow-capped mountains bordered the horizon here, not like her home. Away from the waterholes like Zeda, the grasses were beginning to turn from lush green to a golden brown. She'd learned early to distinguish where a darker green and a few trees marked a waterhole. Other than that, the only landmarks were a few dark rock outcroppings scattered over the landscape. Some were only large enough for a lion or two to sun on, others were like solitary hills of rock. Her inexperienced eye couldn't distinguish between the two or tell how far away they might be until she was almost on top of them. At home, the grasses would still be green and smooth as lawns, dotted with frequent copses of fruit trees. Peaches, plums, apricots, and cherries would all be in season, now.
Then too, away from the waterhole, there was no relief from the heat. Summer on the plains was hotter than anything Thekila had ever experienced. It sapped all of her energy. Even the heavy, dark clouds didn't help. They just made it steamy as well as hot, at least until the rain came.
The stacked clouds were impressive though, as were the distant flashes of lightning. Even at a distance, the thunder rolled across the plains. Thunderstorms back home were nothing like this. Of course, she was usually inside when it rained there.
Thekila shouldn't have let her mind wander. Lightning slashed across the sky. Almost immediately, thunder boomed directly overhead. The echoes were still ringing in her ears when she realized she was on her back in the grass. Her horse danced sideways, kicked out and ran off a short distance.
Vatar was off his horse and on his knees beside her in one smooth movement. “Are you all right?”
Thekila levered herself up into a sitting position. “Yes. It's my fault. I wasn't paying enough attention to what I was doing. The thunder startled me. And the horse, too, I guess. I'm just not used to this, yet.”
Vatar gently pushed her back down. “No, it's my fault. I should have been paying closer attention to you. I am supposed to be teaching you to ride like a Dardani. I was . . . distracted by something.”
In spite of Thekila's protests, Vatar insisted on carefully checking her over for injuries. She raised an amused eyebrow at his solicitousness. In addition to his very real and endearing concern for her, Vatar was not above taking advantage of the situation.
He grinned back, unashamed. “You might have a few bruises in the morning. But you'll be all right. It's not much farther to the waterhole.”
He stood up, dusted off his knees, and helped her to her feet before going off to retrieve her horse. He bent down and ran his hands up and down the horse's legs.
Even Thekila could see that the mare was limping as Vatar led her back. “She's injured?”
Vatar tied the mare's reins to his saddle. “Nothing's broken, but she shouldn't bear any extra weight for a few days.”
Thekila stared at the mare's leg. Standing, she tipped that foot up so that the leg didn't bear any weight. There was already a slight swelling just above the hoof. This was her fault. “Now what do we do?”
Vatar took her hand. “It'll be fine. My horse can carry us both as far as the waterhole. Then we can use Far Speech to contact Orleus or Quetza. They can bring another horse out later.” He smiled at her. “Preferably much later.”
Vatar lifted Thekila up onto his horse and then settled into the saddle behind her. The plains weren't nearly so daunting when his muscular arms circled around her to take the reins.
Thekila nestled closer and prepared herself to contact her friend, sure that Quetza would welcome the excuse to ride out from the Dardani village and explore more of the plains. In fact, she'd seen Quetza riding out to hunt with Vatar's half-brother Orleus that morning. She grinned. Maybe she should give Quetza an excuse to ride out tomorrow—or the next day. “Hmm. Or, they can take word back that we'll be staying out here for a day or two with an injured horse. Your family will look after Theklan and the twins, won't they?”
Vatar chuckled into her hair. “I like the way your mind works.”
~
Vatar had chosen a waterhole he remembered as very pretty—and intimate—for their stop. The sort of place he thought Thekila would like. An outcrop of dark rock loomed behind, softened by a stand of willows. Water from a spring splashed down the rocks to feed the pool. The waterhole itself was crowded with reeds which were home to hundreds of birds, all whistling a high-pitched call. The surrounding trees blocked most of the view of the plains beyond, making this into a small world all its own.
He had their little tent pitched in a clear area before Thekila had finished building a temporary fire pit to warm their midday meal.
Vatar ate in silence, too preoccupied by the odd sensation of seeing as if through the eyes of the lion to even taste his food. His mouth went dry at the memory and he had trouble swallowing his bite of flat bread. He'd come to accept his magic while he was away in the Valley, but he was still Dardani at heart. He'd been raised with the Dardani's superstitious fear of anything uncanny. That dread was far older than his recent acceptance of his own magic. The irony of having gone on a year-long Ordeal to prove that he wasn't a sorcerer, only to be forced to learn the very magic he'd rejected so he wouldn't be accused of sorcery . . . made his head hurt.
Thekila would know more about the magic, at least. She'd not only been raised with it, she'd taught it at the Valson Academy. Vatar was reluctant to put his experience into words, as if that would somehow make the experience more real. On the other hand, putting it off wouldn't make the questions any easier. Usually the reverse. “Thekila . . .”
“Hmm?” Thekila answered distractedly. She opened the laces of his tunic and began to trace the roaring lion tattoo on Vatar's right shoulder with her finger. That drove the half-formed question from his mind, as it had from the first time. Only five months ago? They'd grown so close in that short time. Sometimes he felt that they had been together forever, comfortable as an old boot. At other times, like now, it felt like their first time, intoxicated merely by her touch.
When Thekila lightly touched the newly-healed tattoo on his left shoulder, the one that marked the completion of his Ordeal, Vatar forgot about everything else. He lowered his head to find her mouth instead and when she reached to join their minds, he allowed himself to fall into her love and let her blot out the world. He barely even registered the first fat rain drops falling around their tent.
Chapter 2: Transformations
Vatar woke from a satisfied doze at Orleus's halloo. He sighed and began to untangle himself from Thekila, who muttered sleepy protest. Vatar stuck his head out of the tent flap, blinking in the sunlight. Apparently, the storm had passed over. He hadn't noticed.
“All rested?” Orleus grinned at him. “Now I think we know why you've been so secretive about these riding lessons of yours.”
Quetza snorted a laugh. “Riding lessons? I suppose that's one way to describe it.”
“Give us a moment.” Vatar ducked back into the tent. Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, he woke Thekila with a kiss. He took her hand when she reached up to pull him back down beside her. “Orleus and Quetza are here.”
Thekila gave a disgruntled sigh and sat up. “I told Quetza tomorrow would be soon enough.”
They dressed and came out to find their visitors sitting by the fire. Orleus stirred it up and added some wood. Quetza had the small pot filled with water to brew tea. Orleus' two hunting dogs, Seeker and Ar
row, lay to one side, tongues lolling.
“We didn't expect you so soon,” Vatar said.
Orleus smiled apologetically. “We were out hunting when Thekila used Far Speech to tell Quetza about her horse. It was easier to just swing around and meet you here. Thekila and Quetza can ride double on the way back.”
“You could have taken more time about it,” Vatar grumbled.
“I would have,” Orleus answered. “It was Quetza who was in a hurry.”
Quetza shrugged. “I know Thekila's been trying to keep up your training, Vatar. Teaching you shape changes. That's more usually my area of expertise. So I want to see for myself how you're coming along. You're too powerful to be left only half trained. And I know better than to ask about magic among your people. This was the best opportunity I was likely to get.” She winked in Thekila's direction. “We won't keep you long.”
Vatar set his jaw. On the whole, he'd rather his magic weren't that powerful. Magic had been one thing, somehow safer, when he was in the Valley, where such things were commonplace. He'd gone ahead with the occasional private lesson in magic mostly to please Thekila and he'd meant that to be just between the two of them. He was willing to admit there were a few tricks worth knowing. Far Speech and Far Sight were hard to detect even by others with magic. The Dardani need never know what he was really doing. But what Thekila was teaching him now was different. Obvious. Dangerous. His every instinct was to hide that aspect of his magic from the world.
On the other hand, neither of these two were Dardani. Quetza was Valson, like Thekila. Magic was commonplace to her. And it was hardly likely to surprise Vatar's Fasallon half-brother, either. Orleus had to have received training in magic, too. These two weren't afflicted with the Dardani's distrust of anything more magical than the spiritual connection to the clan totems. It was only the Dardani who believed the magic itself was evil, regardless of what was done with it.
“Vatar's been working on partial shape changes to objects and getting pretty good at it. Show her, Vatar.” Thekila looked around. “Make the tent look like a Dardani hut.”
The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) Page 34
