The Agency
Volume 3
By Dianne Sylvan
Text copyright © 2013 Dianne Sylvan
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
The Fires of Beltaine
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Last Dance
Altitude
The Fires of Beltaine
Part One
Dawn had broken over the forest that embraced and concealed Clan Willow, the soft breath of an early summer morning waking flora and fauna alike. The Clan was located in the center of a state wildlife preserve in the region known as Lost Pines, one of the few unspoiled areas left in Texas.
Remote it may be, but the Clan was carefully guarded both by its own sentries and by the Shadow Agency. The Elves had agreed to a noninvasive surveillance system watched over from Austin, and the Clan leadership kept in regular contact with the Agency, so the nineteen refugees were safe in their new home, free to rebuild life and community without fear.
Aside from helicopter, the only access to the village was via a long, winding footpath that connected with a single-lane paved road five miles away. It was there that the Agency van left Rowan and Sara that morning, each with a backpack and an Ear.
Sara hefted her backpack onto her shoulders and smiled at Rowan. "You know, normal people go to the beach or Disneyland on vacation."
Rowan grinned. "Can you really picture me at the beach?"
He led the way onto the trail, which was almost immediately enfolded in cool shade and birdsong. The path was littered with fallen pine needles and moss, and Sara's boots crunched along behind him; his own footfalls made little sound. It was an old, old talent of the Elves, that once surrounded by their beloved trees, they began to blend in, and by the time they had been among the Clan for a week his hair and eyes would have altered a shade or two to match the forest even though right now his coloring reflected Austin's climate a county over. So his steps were quiet, and he could feel the tension of the city that he habitually carried easing, breath by breath, making it easier to breathe, easier to smile.
It was almost possible to forget why they were here--for vacation, yes, but also by the Council's special request. A week before the Agency had raided another slave ring, and had found two Elves among the prisoners; both had been moved here to Willow, and while one was recovering adequately, the Clan's three Healers had realized they were out of their depth with the other.
It wouldn't be the first time Rowan had been summoned here to help. He had done so with Sedna, once, and in fact it was the Bard who had suggested that before the Healers gave up on their charge, they should first call in the one thing Clan Willow did not have: a Rethla.
Rowan had agreed immediately, of course, and taken a week of his endless backlog of vacation days. He'd invited Sara both because she was keenly interested in seeing more of Elven culture and because of how prettily she'd blushed when he mentioned Ardeth.
The walk to the village took most of the morning; they could have hurried, but they were both so enchanted to be out during daylight that they took their time, pausing several times to drink water, watch squirrels race along the treetops, or grope each other languidly up against a tree.
The air had warmed gently when Rowan noticed the land was beginning to slope downhill; before long the trees began to thin, daylight breaking through in patches that grew more and more frequent.
"Almost there," he said, smiling back over his shoulder.
Sara made a slightly irritable noise. "Thank God. My legs are killing me. I haven't hiked like this in years--it's a good thing I'm in decent shape or you'd be carrying me the rest of the way."
"Well, you don't have to do it again for a week," Rowan pointed out. "Look, there--you can see the village."
She followed his gesture, and grinned. "Wow."
He kept his eyes on the clearing ahead, where the path opened out into sunlight and wildflowers whose heads nodded in the breeze. There was no outer wall, but he could sense a boundary there, established with magic by people who had learned the hard way that security was all-important to a Clan. He knew they would have been spotted long ago by the sentries, but moreover, their arrival at the trailhead had been called in to the Clan so they wouldn’t be shot through with arrows before the first mile marker.
There, at the edge of the meadow, stood a familiar figure in long robes, the strap of an Elven harp over her shoulder and a smile on her face.
"Sedna," he called as they approached. "It's an honor to see you again."
Sedna bowed in the old manner, and he returned the gesture. "Welcome back," she said, and accepted his hug with a laugh.
She had changed a lot since he'd last seen her, and for the better; she was relaxed, her expression unguarded, her laugh clear and joyful as an Elf's should be. Time and contentment among her people, and the return of her son, had been as good for her as Rowan's efforts had been, but he was well aware that he had been a factor in her healing after the depredations of Clan Yew. Now that he had experience with them as well, they had even more in common. He wondered how much the other refugees had told her in the months since Yew had been found and the Council overthrown.
"On behalf of the Council of Clan Willow, and all of its members, welcome to both of you," Sedna announced, turning her attention to Sara, who bowed in return. Rowan had made sure that Sara was fluent in Elvish before bringing her here--many of the Elves would know her by reputation if not by sight, but still, he didn't want any tension among them at having a human in their midst.
"Allow me to show you to your dwelling," Sedna was saying, "and then, Rowan, I've been asked to bring you to the House of Healing straightaway."
"I expected as much. Lead on."
Sara fell into step beside him now that the path had widened; it was paved with smooth stones and marked with torches that would glow with magelights after sunset. He watched her taking in the sight of the village growing around them, her eyes widening at how much the Clan had managed to create in the two years they'd held these lands.
The Agency had provided building materials and tools, and though the houses and community buildings that stood here had the stamp of human manufacturing, they had been altered so much by Elven hands that they bore no resemblance to the houses of mortals. Every available surface was carved, inlaid, or painted in some way, and already overgrown with carefully tended vines and flowers; the houses might have grown out of the ground rather than being built there. The old Clan dwellings had been built of stone, but these were mostly wood, with as little metal as possible used in their construction. The Elves had turned down an offer of electricity, and they had their own plumbing system dating back centuries, so there was no hum of generators, no unnatural sound to interrupt the tumble of water, the sound of the wind through hand-tuned chimes.
Clan Willow had twenty-four adult members and four children, plus the two new refugees, so its village was small and tidy, with the Temple in the center and the House of Healing adjacent. By tradition, the Temple stood before a wide reflecting pool that just now boasted a family of ducks and, Rowan saw as it dove off the side, a green-brown turtle.
Rowan paused to admire the view of the Temple--it was so unlike that of Clan Oak, which had been built of solid stone and at least three times this size, and so unlike that of Clan Yew, a utilitarian building that inspired more fear than awe. Willow's Temple was wood, like the rest of the houses, and its walls were carved by hand--Elvish script covered most of
it, recounting sacred stories and invocations, surrounded with leaves and trees that almost seemed alive. The windows were set with precise silver filigree, and he had a hunch he knew whose work it was, and stained glass panels in greens and blues.
Sara, beside him, drew an amazed breath. "It's wonderful," she said. "This is what I dreamed your people's home would look like."
He nodded. "This is how it should be."
Sedna led them along the winding path past the Temple to a cluster of houses, and paused in front of the first. "This is the guest house," she said, opening the door. "It is seldom used, but I believe it will suit you."
It was a modest house with two small bedrooms and a common area, a small kitchen, and a bath; the inside looked much like the outside, and even though it was a rarely lived-in place, the Elves had taken as much care with its design as they did with everything. Someone had opened all the windows to air it out, so the main room was sunlit and bright, and there were fresh linens and a full larder, flowers in all the rooms, and a bowl of early strawberries on the table.
Rowan felt a pang of homesickness when he saw the fruit; this would be the longest he'd been away from Jason since he had come home, and though they were as busy as any couple, being apart like this was still wrenching. He fought down a wave of melancholy wondering what his lover was doing right now.
Sara, on the other hand, was positively delighted with everything she saw, and dropped her backpack in one of the bedrooms, claiming it as her own. He heard her opening cupboards and peering in doors. "They've even got clothes for us!" she called, laughing. "I get to dress like an Elf!"
Rowan chuckled. "I told you you didn't need to pack so much."
He kept his backpack with him; he would most likely need it shortly. He turned to Sedna. "This is lovely, thank you. Shall we go to the Healers now?"
The Bard bowed again. "The sooner the better."
Sara emerged from her room, and Rowan said, "I hope you don't mind a little time alone--I don't know how long this will take."
Sara shrugged. "I brought books, and there's the house to explore. If nobody minds I thought I might take a walk once I'm settled in. I don’t want to scare anyone."
Sedna was smiling as she said, "Fear not. Everyone here knows of your coming. I am sure Elora will drop in on you before the afternoon has halfway gone, and you are free to come and go as you like; there are paths aplenty that lead into the woods if you crave quiet reflection."
Sara kissed Rowan on the cheek and lips, lightly. "Be careful," she said seriously. "Take care of yourself, and call me if you need help. I'll do whatever I can."
He followed Sedna back the way they'd come, and as they passed the Temple he saw several Elves walking along the path toward them. When they saw him, taking in his short hair, jeans, and the dark green t-shirt he'd bought at the Austin Margarita Festival he'd bought on Cinco de Mayo, they froze mid-stride, eyes going a little wide as they realized who he was. As one, they bowed to him, and he paused long enough to return the gesture and smile.
Sedna, too, was smiling, a little bemusedly. "You are quite a legend here," she noted as they continued on the path. "Rumors about you have already turned into stories. Next thing you know, the Bards will be singing of you."
Rowan snorted softly. "Perish the thought. I'm no hero, Sedna."
She raised an eyebrow. "Of course you are. You saved my life, and Elora's. You brought the truth to Clan Yew. Clan Ash was named in your honor. Those who remember Clan Oak have also heard of you as the most powerful Rethla of that Clan. You are something new among our kind--a Healer, a Warrior, and a Mage, all in one. Besides, there are few Elves in the Agency--the young among us enjoy hearing of your adventures...and your vampire amori."
"I'm sure Jason would love to hear he's being talked about," Rowan said, amused.
"Perhaps you should have brought him along."
Rowan shook his head. "It would have been too difficult to accommodate his needs--you'd have to build a special room for him either underground or with adequate sun shielding. Plus, he's embroiled in three cases and is attending a violinists' symposium in Austin."
They reached the House of Healing, which was basically identical to every other he'd ever been in, with a large central chamber with stations for minor cases, the Healers' quarters branching off one side, and the isolation rooms off the other.
"In here," Sedna said quietly, leading him through the main room to the hallway. "They have the chamber heavily shielded--he was projecting so loudly that every empath in the Clan felt it."
"I can imagine," Rowan replied, doubling the strength of his own shields to prepare himself for what he was about to see. He would have to let down his barriers to do the boy any good, but he wanted to be able to evaluate the situation from a place of calm. He had no idea what to expect, but he knew it wouldn't be easy for either of them.
Sedna stood back to allow him first entrance into the room, and he tried to give her an encouraging smile as he walked past her and peered in.
The room was quiet and cool, the only light coming from around the edges of the curtains that hung over the large windows. It held a single bed with all three of the Healers hovering around it, and Rowan was reminded of the infirmary back in Austin; but here, there were no beeping or whirring noises, no clinical smell or violently bright fluorescent lights, only the scent of lavender and mint used in the mop water and the murmur of the Healers themselves. This was, he suspected, why Elven Healing and human medicine had never partnered well; humans had a martial attitude toward disease, attacking instead of harmonizing. One sought victory, the other peace.
The Healers all looked up at his approach, and bowed to him; he bowed back.
"Welcome, my lord" the senior Healer, Mellis, said. "Thank you so much for coming."
"I could not do otherwise," Rowan responded, clasping her offered hand. "What can you tell me about him?"
Mellis shook her head, dismissing the other two Healers from the room; when she turned back to Rowan her expression was grave and her eyes bright. "Not much. We know what the Agency told us about the slave ring and the raid, and we know from Natala--the other refugee--that they were both from different Clans. She did not know him; they were kept apart most of the time. She had only been captive for about a month, but she said he was there when she arrived. We do not even know his name."
She showed him over to the bed, and he stared down at their charge, sorrow and anger both welling up in his heart and his eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides with impotent hatred for what had been done to yet another of his kin...and what had been done to himself, years ago, in the name of pleasure and profit.
The boy--and boy he was, Rowan estimated he was about fifty years old at most--looked remarkably like the way Rowan had upon his own rescue by the SA. He was pitifully thin, and his wrist had been wrapped in bandages where the implant had been; the Healers had dealt with most of his bruises and lacerations, but a few remained, mottling skin already sallow with malnourishment. He was clean, but Rowan knew that it had taken hours to carefully scrub the filth from his hair, and in the end they had cut it off to his shoulders. There was an angry scar down one of his ears, as if it had been partially torn off.
"How is he physically?" Rowan asked Mellis.
"As well as can be expected. We've managed to get some soup down him, but we had to enchant him to do it. The internal damage has been repaired, as have several broken bones, and we removed the neural implant, which had become infected and still hasn't healed. We can magically force his body to eat, but his mind is far fled. No one has been able to reach him. The others thought it best to cut the cord and release him, but before we took that step I knew we had to try one last hope...you."
Rowan nodded slowly. "Thank you, Healer. I can take it from here. Please lock the door behind you and send no one in until I call."
Mellis took a deep breath. "As you wish. Is there anything you require for your work?"
He considered,
then said, "Not yet."
She squeezed his arm. "May the Goddess guide and guard you both," she said, and left.
In the silence that followed, Rowan stood at the foot of the bed for a long moment, watching the young Elf breathe. It had been a long time since he'd fully enacted his powers as a Rethla, and even longer for something so serious. He had let Jason see some of what he was capable of, and had used some of his talent with Sedna herself, but this...this was what his kind were meant to do, and he had been singularly gifted among them. Even in a full Clan with a half-dozen Rethla he had been the one called to this level of work.
He would have expected to be nervous, but while he was uneasy, it wasn't self-doubt, but the overwhelming depth of damage he was going to have to undo. That was, of course, assuming the boy even wanted to survive; Rowan could not heal him against his will, but in the state he was in it was hard to know that will.
The Agency, Volume III Page 1
