by Lori Holmes
“Do not give up. You will find a way.” He dared to reach out and brush her hand with his fingers. “I remember the night she fell. You flew down like a falcon and tried to beat me with a stick to save her.” He smiled softly as he admitted. “I noted your bravery even then. If you can do that and if she has even half your courage, she will recover.”
She blinked at him, shocked by his admittance. He could not hold her gaze lest he reveal too much. He kept his eyes fixed upon the wolf. There was something he wanted to know, though at the same time, he dreaded the answer. “Did the fall…? Was it our fault?” He struggled to make himself clear.
She understood. “No.” She blew out the word. “I wanted to blame you. I wanted it to be the Woves’ fault but it was not. The baby was born malformed. Whether Kyaati had fallen from that tree or not, the result would have been the same.” Her voice grew distant. “It is happening more and more frequently. Our children are more often than not born dead or deformed. We have always believed that you,” she waved a hand at him, “Woves were the cause of our growing weakness, cursing us with some black magic that we could not understand. I was so certain…. But you do not have that power do you?” Her face was bitter.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “Ironically, only what I’ve picked up from your people, it seems.” He turned what she had told him over in his head. The elves were dying out. Only fifteen in her tribe, she had told him, a life time ago now it seemed. He could guess what was happening. The Cro had once faced such a fate but they had been smart enough to forsake the gods’ tenets unlike the others who still so stubbornly clung to such teachings. They had doomed themselves. And they could not see it.
“Well, whatever the cause,” her voice pulled him from his thoughts. “We are dying. Soon there won’t be any of us left for the Woves to hunt.” She fixed him with a searching stare. “Why do you hunt us? You never did tell me. If the Woves don’t eat us and do not serve Ninsiku in his vendetta to see us dead, why do they come?”
He debated whether or not to speak, to tell her that it was the power of healing, of life over death, that had caused his chief to hunt her kind for all this time, and that she possessed the very power that drew death to her people.
He had not yet made up his mind to speak when she turned sharply, distracted by something beyond his senses. He followed her gaze. The wolf had disappeared. “What is it?”
“Deer,” she murmured. “There is a small herd browsing away in the trees, downwind from Batai. The breeze just carried their scent to him. He’s hungry. He has scarcely left Omaal’s side apart from to accompany me here at night.”
“Omaal?” This was a new name.
“One of the children.” She quickly explained the bond between the wolf above and a blind boy in her tribe, about how they were so closely bonded, the boy could use the wolf’s sight to navigate. Khalvir listened with disbelief and not a little envy. The wolves may be enemies to his clan and rivals in the hunt, but they were a predator without rival and he admired their skill. To be able to join with such creatures, to become partners in the hunt… He shook his head. “I wonder what it is like to see through a wolf’s eyes?”
“Do you want to try?”
He took a step back. “What if I harm him?” This creature was no expendable seed upon which to test his unpredictable powers. He knew she would never forgive him if he killed the wolf.
“You won’t. I have faith in you.” She took his wrist. Khalvir tensed at her touch, feeling his skin prickle. It wasn’t only the power radiating from her that caused it. Heat trickled down his back at the very feel of her. “Focus. I will guide you.”
Focus. He fought to bend his will to the task and close out all other sensation. Her fingers on his arm were almost making it impossible. He clenched his teeth.
The energy was there, deep inside him it resided, like a ravening wolf itself, just waiting to be released. He struggled as always to catch it, his fear of what it might do hindering him still further. Then suddenly she was there. Her energy was bright inside him and it bridged the connection between him and his own.
He stretched forth eagerly and she went with him, guiding him to where he needed to go, tempering his own wild and ravenous Gift. Life was all around. It was hard to focus on any one thing. He could feel everything with a dizzying intensity. If it wasn’t for his guide, he would have been lost.
He merged with the wolf’s consciousness. The experience was odd. Both he and the wolf occupied the same space, one body, two minds, but, as he grew accustomed, the sensation was beyond anything he could have ever imagined.
His every sense was sharpened, hearing, the feel of the ground under his paws, the scent… He could smell the deer through the wolf’s nose. Then the images came, images of the feast, of tender juices filling his mouth and slacking his hunger. He realised he was seeing the wolf’s own wordless thoughts. Khalvir’s own hunger rose in answer, a hunger that fruit and roots alone could not satisfy. He wanted to hunt!
His desire fanned the power inside him into a burst of flames. His energy surged forth, overtaking Nyri’s guidance, unleashing itself on the wolf’s conscience.
No! He tried to pull back, fearing the animal’s mind would be consumed by his power. The wolf’s own thoughts vanished before the onslaught and he suddenly found himself alone inside this foreign head. His own thoughts occupied the entire space. He was the wolf now, not simply a passenger.
His mind whirled, disorientated, but then the smell of the deer became too much to bear and animal instinct overrode his thoughts. A howl found its way past lips that were not his own. His new body bunched and shot forward as he charged towards the deer. The sensation of running on all fours threw him for one brief moment but then he caught his stride. The disorientation evaporated and Khalvir found himself reveling in the speed and the sensation; the stretch and pull of his powerful muscles as he bore down swiftly upon his prey.
But he did not know how to hunt as a wolf. His first strike was clumsy and ill timed. The herd broke apart. He hared after them, thinking of nothing but running them down. The panicked deer turned and began thundering headlong back towards the pit. The ground began to shake. The panicked animals broke around the rocky edges, sharp hooves scrambling to keep from falling in. He was close, so close to sinking his teeth into a straggler’s hindquarters-
A terrible, ripping crumbling sound broke Khalvir’s concentration. His senses snapped dizzyingly back into his own body and he heard a confused yelp above him as the wolf returned to its own mind. Someone was screaming inside his head. He blinked his own human eyes open and they widened in shock as he took in the horrifying scene that was playing out before him.
The deer that he had chased so ineptly into the path of the pit had dislodged a massive rock from the crumbling edges. The rock was tumbling, cracking against the wall as it fell, straight down towards-
“Nyriaana!” her name ripped from his chest. She was standing frozen, watching in detached horror as her death tumbled towards her.
No!
Khalvir did not stop to think. He threw himself forward, knocking her small body out of the way of the tumbling rock.
Midair, he twisted over so he wouldn’t land with his full weight on top of her. As his body slammed into the ground, he felt something hard and sharp rip through his furs and gouge deep into his right shoulder. A cry escaped his lips as he rolled again, putting her beneath his own body. He shielded her head with his arms as the boulder smashed into the ground behind them with a resounding crack. Birds in the trees above took to the air, shrieking in panic.
Silence. He could feel every part of her body trembling against his. He couldn’t move. The pain in his own shoulder throbbed wickedly with the rhythm of his blood. He could hear it rushing in his ears. His vision blurred. He gated the groan between his teeth.
“Juaan.” Her voice was a breath. She began to struggle out of his hold. “Juaan.” Freeing herself she stood and he heard her suck in a breath as he force
d himself to sit upright. Dislodged pebbles and other debris scattered across the rock behind him. A jagged branch lay not far away, a sharp protrusion red with his blood. Khalvir reached back to assess the damage. The wound was deep. His hand came back dripping. He raised an eyebrow at it. Yet another scar.
“Who’s there!” A male voice called out from above. An elf voice. Close, too close. Beside him, Nyriaana froze, her skin draining of all colour. Her tribe had heard the commotion and they were coming to investigate. Men who would attack him on sight. Khalvir’s mind began to flick through ways to defend himself from his enemies. His heart sank. He was going to be forced to fight and kill Nyriaana’s own kin in front of her. She would see the monster she had blinded herself to at last.
Before he could brood over this unfortunate turn of events, she was moving, springing forward and wrapping her body tightly around his own. The sudden movement startled him. He began to protest, afraid of her proximity, afraid of the part of him that liked it. His shoulder screamed as she jostled it.
“Be still!” she hissed her warning. “I’ve got to hide us. They’ll kill you!”
Khalvir stopped struggling against her grip and grew still, half in readiness for his enemy’s appearance, half in curiosity as to what she was trying to do.
Then he felt it. Days of her teaching had honed the senses that he had long suppressed. He could feel her energy gathering around them, like a fur cocooning them in its warmth. The sense of power increased. Khalvir could feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck as her essence imbued itself with his own.
He could feel her, not just physically. It was as if every breath and every heartbeat was shared as their energies merged. Khalvir was frozen in awe and in terror. Never before had he imagined it was possible to feel so close to anyone. He wanted to escape, but he could not. He could feel her drawing on his own energy. It wanted to respond but he kept it in check, unsure of the mess it might make. Her body was faintly trembling from the effort. He still had no clue as to what she was doing.
A face appeared above them, peering into the pit. A thin male face framed by straight black hair with smooth red-gold skin drawn into a frown. Pale purple eyes scoured every detail of his surroundings.
Khalvir tensed, fingers finding a fist sized rock next to his hand, ready to dispatch his enemy with one flick of his wrist as soon as he came within range. It wasn’t just his life in the balance now. He knew in being found with him, Nyriaana’s life would also be forfeit. That was something he could not allow. The elf above would have to die. He hoped she would come to forgive him.
No! The reprimand was loud in his head, startling him. Don’t hurt him!
The eyes swept closer to where they huddled. Khalvir’s hand tightened upon his rock, ready to ignore her command.
And they passed right by. Khalvir stared in disbelief. The elf had looked right at them and moved on. No, Khalvir corrected his thought, he had looked right through them, as if they were not present. Nyriaana had made them invisible to her tribesmen. There is no end to the wonders of elf magic.
Khalvir watched, remaining on guard until the watchman turned and moved away. Long moments passed, filled only with the sound of their joined breaths. She did not let him go. He did not want her to but that thought alone made him move, breaking out of her death hold. “I think he’s gone. You can let go now.” He could hear the strain in his own voice as he tried to control his emotion. The feeling of being bound to her had been too great. She was part of him now, a piece of her soul forever attached to his.
“Are you all right?” her voice was tight.
“I think so,” he said, carefully. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to remember himself. “Are you?”
Her response came in one of those waves of fury that always took him by surprise.
“Of course I am!” she snapped. “You knocked me out of the way.” She was so mad she was almost choking on her rage. “You fool, you could’ve been killed! They could have found us! How many times have I told you what it would do to me to lose you again!” A couple of tears spilled down her cheeks. She was obviously fighting against breaking down entirely. Khalvir could feel that she was reaching her limit. She was under too much strain.
“Easy,” he soothed. “You’re in shock.”
“Of course I am!” she snarled. “I nearly died. Again. They nearly found you!”
Khalvir felt like she had punched him in the gut. He had lost count of how many times she had risked her life for him. His face clouded at the thought of this latest near miss. They could not go on like this. It had already gone on too long.
She seemed to catch his expression. She closed her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths. “I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments. Slowly she moved to kneel in front of him. She looked at the blood dripping to the rock. “Will you let me heal you?” she asked. She read the hesitation in his eyes and persisted. “Please. I need to see that there is no serious damage. If a rock struck your head…” Her fists clenched.
Khalvir was torn. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her now. But the thought of being so close to her was beginning to frighten him more and more. He had to let go and she was only making it harder.
Her eyes pleaded with him, hurt at what she saw as his continued rejection and raw with the need to take care of his wellbeing. His will crumbled. He could not deny her. “If you wish.”
“Thank you,” her face was filled with gratitude. She approached carefully, studying the damage to his shoulder. Her lips pressed together. “I need you to take these off.”
He had not foreseen this. If he removed his coverings, there were things he knew she would see that he would rather she did not. He knew her well enough by now to predict her reaction.
“Please.” She pushed. “I need to see.”
Gritting his teeth, Khalvir began to pull the furs from his back. The cold stung at his skin and he fought a shiver.
From the corner of his eye, he watched as an embarrassed flush crept up her cheeks and she ducked her head away. For the first time, he felt oddly vulnerable in his nakedness. He wanted to hide from her. He kept his eyes studiously on the far pit wall. A soft, horrified gasp told him he had been right in his prediction. She had seen.
The need to heal his wound deflected a more immediate response but he could feel the brewing emotions in her touch even as the pain in his shoulder receded. She was gathering herself like a storm on the horizon. Khalvir braced for the impact as she finished her task. Then he felt his own temper stir. He shouldn’t be dreading her reaction. She had no right to judge.
“What in Ninmah’s name happened to you?” The storm broke. She moved to the front of him where he could see clearly the anger and pain in her eyes. “What did they do to you?” Her hand reached out to touch the long scar on his shoulder. He subtly shifted out of her reach and she dropped her hand. “Tell me.”
“It is not for you to know.” He didn’t have to tell her anything.
“Don’t give me that,” she growled, once again surprising him with her audacity. He was not used to being challenged so. “Tell me. Where have all these scars come from? Who did this to you?”
He tightened his jaw in frustration. Her only response was to sit down in front of him, making it clear she would not leave until he spoke. “Please.”
He let out a silent breath through his nose, fighting to keep his patience. “You would not understand, elf.”
“Help me understand,” she pleaded. “I want to help you.”
Sadness swept through him in the face of her innocence. “It is nothing that you can fix. Nothing has been ‘done’ to me but life.” He drew a deep breath. He yearned to be able to share a small part of himself with her, to have somebody see him and accept what he was. Thinking carefully about his words, he began. “When my clan found me, they were surprised to find that I was half elf-”
“There are no other Forbidden Ninkuraaja in your clan?” she interrupted, seeming surprised.
> “No. I am the only one. My clan chief hoped I would possess the power of my elf heritage. When it became clear that I could not control it, he was… disappointed. I had to be found another use.” He omitted the first use his chief had put him to. She would turn from him if he did. He would allow her to see only a part of the monster. “When he witnessed me defeat another clan member in a brawl, I was given over to the Spear Chief to become raknari.”
“What is ‘raknari?’”
“A warrior,” he explained. “We are trained to protect the clan from any threat, to do anything it takes, no matter the cost to ourselves, the survival of the clan is all.”
“No matter the cost? They would expect you to die for the clan?”
He nodded stiffly, annoyed by her tone of consternation and lack of understanding. To die for the clan was the least of the cost. “It is a great honour to be raknari and to protect one’s clan.”
“How do you become raknari?
He shrugged evasively. Some memories were too painful to share. “It is not easy.”
“Tell me.”
“Training is hard and very few survive the raknari life for long. You win or you die.”
“Few survive?” Her face was aghast. “I assume by that you mean you fight one another. Other tribes?”
“Yes,” he hissed, losing patience. She was prying too deeply into wounds that had only ever scabbed over and could never fully heal. The slightest reminder had them bleeding again. He gritted his teeth. “Only the strongest survive to become raknari. Only the strongest survive life. Good territories are getting harder to come by. To secure one, we must be prepared to fight for and defend it by any means necessary.”
He watched as Nyriaana turned her face away from him to stare determinedly at the cold, grey wall of the Pit, her jaw worked. She was trying to contain whatever emotion was struggling to break loose. She must be disgusted with him and he waited for her to leave.
Tears began to slide silently down her cheeks. After a long tense moment, she turned her large eyes upon him, looking right into his soul. He was caught off guard. There was no disgust in her gaze, only sorrow. “They hurt you.” Her voice was a breath, meaning so much more than just the physical wounds.
