Unfinished Song(Book 4): Root

by Maya, Tara

Tamio circled around the path, through the brush, until he could see the shadows of the warrior crouching on a thick branch in the leaning tree. The darkness hid his features and the colors of this legwals.

  The ambusher deemed himself clever, did he? Tamio climbed another tree, and began to crawl across the branches from tree to tree, until he was in the very same tree as the lead ambusher, but higher. With the silent grace and strength he had garnered from years of dancing, Tamio crept down the tree trunk. Tamio was now behind and just above the ambusher. Tamio grasped a branch with one hand... he moved his hands into position…

  …Slowly…

  …Slowly…

  Then quickly. Tamio grasped the warrior around the mouth and poked the sharp branch into the small of his back, in one motion.

  “I have a knife to your back,” hissed Tamio. “Don’t move or cry out.”

  “Tamio, you piece of—”

  Tamio recognized the voice. “Hadi?”

  “That's right, you filthy—”

  “Tell me why attacked me!”

  “I wasn't going to attack you.” Hadi seethed, but he kept his voice to a whisper, as instructed. “I only planned to warn you to keep your hands off Dindi.”

  “You object to our betrothal? Why?”

  “You have no intention of marrying a girl with no magic. I know what you’re really up to, Tamio!” growled Hadi. “I won’t let you get away with it. As her clan brother, I swear it.”

  Irony, fa. Tamio shook his head. Now that his intentions were finally honorable, no one would believe it.

  “Hadi, look…” Tamio sniffed the breeze. “Something is burning.”

  Black smoke swelled in the air. Yelps of alarm echoed from the same direction—it was coming from inside the wall. One of the conifers had turned into a giant torch.

  “The tribehold is on fire!” cried Hadi. “That’s the tree over Dindi’s den!”

  Their feud forgotten, both young men ran to help.

  Dindi

  Dindi tingled all over after her ride with Tamio. Though she was sure excitement would make sleep impossible, in fact, she drifted off as soon as she snuggled into her warm cot near the steam pit.

  She woke up coughing. The first thing she noticed was smoke. Smoke swathed the roots in the ceiling, but it emerged from below her. Dozens of fire salamanders scampered like rats out of the trap in the floor, which led down into the storage rooms. All their food and supplies were down there. The tiny crimson dragons pulled flames behind them like toboggans. The wood planks of the trap door collapsed with a belch of searing heat.

  More aggressive fae jumped out of the hole, fire sprites and Red Caps and then a vicious, horned Malfae who spit fire at her.

  Dindi pulled her night tunic up over her mouth. Smoke stung her eyes. Through the black cloud and her own tears, she was nearly blind.

  “Tibi!” she screamed. She clawed her way through the heat and smoke, until she felt the still body of her younger cousin. She threw Tibi over her shoulder and felt for the ladder.

  The Malfae grabbed her tunic. The wool burst into flame.

  Dindi kicked the Malfae in the head. He roared and stabbed with his blazing spear. A piece of blackened ladder broke off. She used the stick to parry his blow, and then thrust the splintered end into his yellow eye. He screamed jets of fire, but Dindi was already pushing out the top entrance of the Den. She threw Tibi free then threw herself as well, rolling to put out the flames on her dress.

  She inhaled fresh air under the night sky.

  She had no more than a few breaths of rest. She put her mouth to Tibi’s to suck the smoke from her and breathe clean air in. Tibi hacked out another lungful of smoke, and sat up.

  “Run!” cried Dindi, dragging her cousin away from the inferno just in time to escape an explosion.

  The Malfae burst out of the Den. He had no more interest in Dindi. He was too busy fighting the Sylfae giantess who had awakened to his presence.

  He had her by the feet. The tree faery bellowed a weird, indescribable cry. The Malfae expanded by the minute. She thrashed in his grip, trying to stomp him out, but he opened his jaws and chewed on her legs. The more he bit into her, the more he grew. He equaled her height now. He pinned her arms behind her and ripped off her dress of green needles.

  Men and women raced from every den in the tribehold to help the Sylfae fight the fire. Dindi and Tibi joined the bucket brigade that snaked from the inferno to the well behind the Great Lodge.

  Tavaedies began to dance against the Malfae. War Chief Nann and Finnadro were there. So were Kemla and Tamio.

  All in vain. The Malfae towered over the Sylfae. She writhed and blackened in his punishing embrace. The other Sylfae tried to beat him off of her, but their fists only fed his monstrous appetite.

  Vessia

  “Stay back, my Lady!” War Chief Nann urged. “It’s a Malfae, fat with power, and he’ll eat us all if we can’t smother him!”

  Vessia spread her wings and lifted into the air. A winged deer with a peacock tail galloped through the air toward her.

  “Will you help me, Sister?” asked the deer.

  Vessia nodded. They flew in circles around the Malfae, raising a whirlwind thick with snow. The slush ropes bound the Malfae, much as he had clasped the Sylfae.

  He sputtered flames at them, but could not keep up with their speed. The two faery sisters flew faster and tighter around him, until the ice ropes strangled him.

  The humans clambered up the limbs of the Sylfae to pierce him with their spears. The fiery little dancer named Kemla hacked off his head, which the rest of the humans doused with water when it rolled on the ground.

  The Malfae crumbled to ash. His Sylfae victim shook his dust off. Her skin crackled black; her body was brutalized and she leaned for support against her neighbor, a tall male Sylfae who cradled her gently.

  The Green Lady assumed her human form and landed next to Vessia. War Chief Nann and Finnadro went on one knee before the Faery Ladies. Then all the humans did so.

  “It’s been too long, Sister,” said the Green Lady. “We have missed you.”

  Vessia inclined her head.

  “It’s not too late to come back to us.”

  “It is much too late, Sister. But I hope this will not be the last time we meet.”

  The Green Lady growled. She shifted from human to wolf. “It will not.”

  The wolf raced away and leaped over the stone wall.

  War Chief Nann spoke quietly to the injured Sylfae. The human danced before the tree faery, healing some of her injuries, but Vessia knew only time would tell if the Sylfae would recover in this form, or if she would need to renew herself again as a nut. Though the Sylfae were immortal, like all fae, they had longer growth cycles than most.

  After tending the tree, Nann moved among her people, clapping them on the back, thanking those who had helped throw water on the fire. She congratulated Kemla for beheading the Malfae. But though Nann’s thanks were genuine, she stashed a frown in between her praises. Finally, she told Finnadro and Vessia what troubled her.

  “No Malfae could have gotten into the Winter Warrens unless someone brought outside fire into their home. None of my tribesfolk would have done that. I’m sorry, it had to be one of the Rainbow Labyrinth people.”

  Dawn arrived listlessly. War Chief Nann asked the Tavaedies to sound the drums of assembly. Everyone gathered inside the Great Lodge.

  War Chief Nann stood before her people on the dais. She held up a blackened jar. “We know that this fire was no accident. The Malfae entered the tribehold inside this. Someone placed a flame where no flame had a right to be, breaking our oldest taboo. Whoever did this will be hanged naked outside. Terrible as this fate will be, woe to you if you are guilty and you do not step forward, for that one will be burned alive. The Henchman of the Green Lady will search the aura of every person in this hold until we find the foul wretch.”

  A young girl stepped up onto the platform and walked toward the three of th
em. Her movements were jerky. It was the serving girl who had given Vessia shelter—curse her failing memory—what was the girl’s name?

  “Dindi of Lost Swan Clan. The fire started in the home given to you and your cousins,” said Nann.

  The girl quaked. For a moment, her mouth worked itself open and closed, as if she fought to push out words.

  “I think it was my fault, auntie. I may have… brought a fire into the storage room even though we were told not to.”

  “You think?” Nann asked sharply.

  “I don’t…quite…remember. I was tired.”

  “That is no excuse.”

  Vessia frowned. There was no reason to doubt the confession, and yet….

  “Finnadro, is she telling the truth?”

  Finnadro looked surprised. “Do you want me to delve her aura, even if she has already admitted the crime? It is not an intrusion I make lightly.”

  “I must insist,” Vessia said.

  “I am sorry, niece,” Finnadro said to Dindi. “I must ask you to kneel.”

  Dindi knelt before him. He kneaded the air around her body without touching her. Vessia watched closely. She knew a little of the art, though she was even less inclined than Finnadro to use it. She could not see anything in the girl’s aura, however. Hopefully, it as more clear to him.

  Finnadro frowned. “It’s thin, as if she were trying to block me…”

  “I’m not,” said Dindi.

  “Quiet! Her emotions are hard to hold, but I do sense regret and sorrow.”

  War Chief Nann sighed. “Niece, if you have goods to barter, I will let you pay your debt to the tribe and the Sylfae with seven jars of goods.”

  “We lost everything in the fire, auntie.”

  “In that case, you must pay with your body. You will be hanged naked outside until you beg for mercy.”

  A young man jumped up on stage. “I protest! It’s not fair to let her be hung from the arms of one of those tree-buggers. It was one of them that got burned and the others are sure to take it out on Dindi. Who’s to say they won’t bash her brains against the stone wall, or hold her out in the iciest wind! That’s not justice, it’s murder!”

  “Your protest has been heard but rejected, Tamio of Broken Basket,” said Nann. “The Sylfae, as the aggrieved party, have every right to partake in her punishment.”

  After the warriors took the girl away, Finnadro murmured, “Will that wisp of a girl last even an hour in this weather?”

  “As soon as she weeps, cut her down,” said Nann.

  “If the Sylfae let us,” said Finnadro. “The boy may be right about their anger.”

  “If the Sylfae let us,” said Nann.

  Dindi

  Tavaedies pounded drums. Warriors escorted Dindi outside, where they ripped off her burnt and tattered shift. Underneath, she wore only a loincloth, the crisscross of breast straps and henna tattoos.

  They stood her underneath one of the healthy Sylfae. The fae lord reached down his gnarled wooden hand, grasped Dindi by both wrists and heaved her into the air. Her toes dangled several feet above the ground.

  Then the wind hit, and the cold set in.

  Chapter Six

  Revelation

  Dindi

  She did not have the corncob doll with her. That was with her clothes, inside the sweat lodge, waiting for her if she survived the exposure. But she knew that if she took refuge in a Vision, she could survive the cold as she had survived suffocation in a cave and three days on the Tor of the Stone Hedge surrounded by a thousand wild, dancing fae. She had faced worse things than hanging from a tree. She vowed to survive this ordeal.

  They all expect me to wail for mercy, Dindi thought. They think I have no power. But I know something they don’t. I do have power. I do have magic. I might not be able to use it for anything other than Visions, but that’s all I need to survive this.

  Mayara, you never gave up on your dream to regain your wings. I won’t give up either.

  Mayara

  Solitude gnawed Mayara. She had no one now, no clan, no family, no pretend mother, no almost lover. She had a plan, of course. As soon as the ground thawed, she would go to the rocks above the cave to unbury her wings. Then she would take her journey. When spring arrived, however, she did not want to forego planting…not that she still intended to be in the Corn Hills come November harvest, but… just in case. What if something happened and she wasn’t able to make the journey? Don’t take chances.

  So she worked through summer, then autumn. Every time she heard the call of migrating geese, forming white chevrons across crimson western skies, she renewed her promise to leave. As soon as the harvest is in, she promised herself, I’ll leave then. Ironically, it was a good year. She filled baskets full of food no one would ever eat. She would have no way to carry it, not if she flew. She stacked everything neatly against the hut in store jugs.

  She finally made the journey to the cave where her family and her people had been murdered. Nature had swallowed their memory. Unlike the humans haunted by their guilt, Mayara encountered no lingering trace of Aelfae magic.

  Trembling from urgency, she clawed at the dirt under the boulder where her Aelfae mother had buried her wings. The scabrous clay crumbled under her assault. Her first hint of success, feathers under her nails, pushed her into a frenzy of digging, until she had scooped out two wings.

  They were not what she expected, remembered, or wanted.

  Their condition, though ragged, half rotted, was not what bothered her. They looked like the wings on a bird after it had been dragged about the yard by a cat all morning. She’d anticipated that, she was certain she could heal them, even as she dreamed they would heal her.

  More perplexing, they were diminutive; each wing was no larger than a hand. Of course, she realized. They hadn’t grown with her. How could they when she had never worn them? She had matured into an adult woman, but these were the wings of a child. They could never bear her weight.

  Perhaps, she asked herself, perhaps this could be healed? But how? She had always focused on the day she would dig up her wings. Never had she considered the problems she might encounter once she had them. She knew no magic. It had been years since she had seen Aelfae dances, and she had been so young—she couldn’t remember the exact movements. She remembered the glorious freedom of flight, but she wasn’t sure she actually remembered how to fly. All she had practiced over the years had been how to hide.

  Growls startled her from her despair. A pack of lean wolves surrounded her. Their fur bristled over gaunt ribcages. They were hungry.

  “Don’t you know me?” she asked them. “I’m a friend. I’m a faery, not a human.”

  The chief wolf leaped for her throat.

  An arrow knocked the wolf out of the air. More arrows followed. The pack scattered, except the chief wolf, which had died instantly with an arrow through his eye.

  Joslo stepped out from behind a boulder further up the hill.

  Panic replaced gratitude. How much had he seen? Hastily, she shoved dirt over the wings. He strode down hill, toward her. By the time he stood over her, hand outstretched to help her to her feet, she had re-buried her past. She stood up without taking his hand.

  “Your aim has improved,” she said.

  “Since you spurned me, I’ve had nothing but time to practice.”

  She could not help but feel sorry for the dead wolf. “You saved my life. What can I give you?”

  He flashed the endearing, slightly crooked smile she remembered. “You know what I want from you, Mayara.”

  She looked away. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

  “Have the trees changed their mind about the sun?”

  If she married him, it would be for all the wrong reasons. It would be from fear, not love. Marriage would be another place to hide. She would have to hide her true self from her husband, just as she had hidden herself from her adopted parents so many years. No other choices occurred to her, unfortunately. It was obvious she
would never fly again. She had lost her chance to escape years ago. All she had left was a chance to survive—and she could not survive alone.

  “I will marry you, Joslo.”

  Delight filled his face. He scooped her up into his arms, tossed her in the air, then caught her, clasped her and kissed her.

  “Don’t you dare change your mind again!” he warned her. “Once I have you, I’ll never let you go.”

  Dindi

  Warmth. Steam. Log benches. Wood ceiling.

  Jensi and Tibi rubbed her limbs and petted her hair. She cried. They kept repeating that she was safe, but she wasn’t crying over her numb fingers or chapped nose.

  Cutting close to the edge of death had stripped Dindi of any illusions that she was free. She still loved him desperately, hopelessly, helplessly.

  Kavio, oh Kavio.

  How had she ever thought she loved Tamio? How had she forgotten what real love was, love that gutted your world like a knife and pulled out a bigger horizon than you could have imagined?

  Tamio had been an obsession, but she did not love him, she had never loved him. Now she could not even recapture the giddiness she had felt at the idea of marrying him.

  It was as if the cold had restored her clarity.

  Or freed me from a hex.

  Mercy.

  When had her obsession about Tamio started? The morning after she had rebuffed him! Did that make sense? Only if he had decided not to take NO for an answer…

  Oh, you bastard.

  Another memory returned in a rush:

  Kemla holds a coal burning in a jar.

  “You’re cold and tired, Dindi,” Kemla says. There is a peculiar force to her voice that Dindi wants to resist but cannot. “You will take this jar back to the Den. You will set it on the floor. You will then go to sleep and remember nothing of this conversation. But when Tavaedies come to search your home tomorrow, and they find it, you will confess it is yours.”

  She tries to fight the command by throwing the jar through the trapdoor into the storage room, but it shatters open and flames spill out…Surely that’s bad, but her mind is too fuzzy…