Half-turning to call to her, I found Iyumi at my shoulder, eagerly peering into the cave. “Is she alive?”
Fetching an annoyed breath, I said, “Do that again and –”
“She is, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Before I could stop her, Iyumi ducked into the cave. My Centaur could scarcely fit under its low overhang much less enter it. Forced to return to my human shape, I followed on her heels. Calling fire to my hand, I lit the small chamber and the bodies lying on the stony floor.
My instincts on high alert, I took in the blackened remains of a hearth fire, ringed in rounded stones. The sandy floor held a single narrow pallet made of twigs and pine needles. To my right, against the cavern wall, lay a tidy pile of firewood. Under the scent of dry rot lay another odor – meat. The far rear of the occupant’s tidy home held a collection of bones and hides. I recognized the legs of deer, the curved horns of a rock sheep, and no few cured rabbit skins.
I glanced at the corpse, lying next to the dead fire. The high altitude cold kept it from decomposing. But its closed eyes had fallen in, and its clothes stuck to the body. Lank grey hair fell across its lower face, and a blanket half covered it from the shoulders down. The mother of the infant, I surmised. I half-wondered what killed her.
A swift glance showed me Iyumi cuddling a tiny body close within her arms, her shoulders hunched. As her back was to me, I couldn’t see the gods’ chosen child. Using my sword’s tip I lifted the corpse’s hair from its face.
Cursing in shock, I backed away. “That’s a troll.”
If Iyumi heard me, she didn’t reply. She rocked the infant in her arms, crooning under her breath, her body swaying back and forth. Repulsed, I used my sword to sweep the covering blanket from the mother troll, revealing the tell-tale gnarled limbs, snaggle teeth and hunched-back of a mountain troll.
Infused with stories and tales of mountain trolls sneaking into homes by night to slay the occupants for their gold, I felt a shudder creep up my spine. As a child, I lay awake at night, fearing the trolls that fed on the weak and the helpless. I knew they waited under my bed, waiting for me to fall asleep. Once I was vulnerable, they’d pounce and tear me limb from limb. When the fears grew too awful, I’d change forms into that of a cat and leap into the rafters. There, I’d pass the night drowsing and waking at every tiny night sound.
Whether the stories were true or not, all knew trolls were evil, the offspring of hellish demons. A distant cousin to the trolls that guarded the dreaded prison, Braigh’Mhar, they owned two arms, two legs, and didn’t breathe fire. That was their only difference. No one looked a troll in the eye and lived. They lusted only for gold and drank the blood of their victims.
“We’ve got the wrong cave, I’m thinking,” I said, searching with fire and instincts for danger. “Drop it and let’s go.”
Iyumi’s only answer was her continual rocking and crooning. Slowly backing away from the body, and the lethal mate I knew awaited us in the darkness, ready to pounce with fangs and claws bared, I carefully stepped to Iyumi’s side. I grabbed her shoulder.
Iyumi screeched. Lunging away from me, her arms holding the mewling infant in a protective embrace, she bared her teeth in a grimace of fear and anger. “Leave her alone!”
What the hell? “Put that thing down,” I ordered, my sword sweeping the cave, prepared for an attack. “Let’s go, Iyumi.”
“Are you an idiot?”
“Probably. But that don’t mean I’m stupid.”
Iyumi bowed her head, her braid sliding forward to hide the infant troll in her arms. “Leave off, Captain.”
“Nope. Come with me of your own free will or in chains. Your choice, of course.”
She raised her face, her cheeks streaming tears of anger and joy. A smile trembled on her lips, one of hope and triumph. I halted, frozen, as her eyes lifted to mine in desperate fear. “She’s dying, Van. You have to help me.”
My mouth worked, but no sound emerged. Me? Help save a – save a troll? A flaming troll? Iyumi held the tiny form out toward me, stepping lightly across the stone floor until she lifted the tiny body, wrapped in rags. It moved, writhing weakly, a tiny mewing sound rising from the filthy cloths. Quickly, I sheathed my sword, freeing my hands, but not my fears. She gently placed the bundle in my arms.
It moved, once more emitting a tiny mew-like sound. Startled, I almost dropped it. I wanted to back away from the troll, from the obligation, from her. I couldn’t. If she’d tossed a freezing spell over me, it worked.
Instead, I stood in helpless panic as Iyumi withdrew the cover from her face.
Eyes the color of warm ale met mine. Heavy brow ridges cast those eyes in shadow. Lumps formed the infant’s jaw, and a heavy chin thrust from beneath thick dark lips that hid fangs ready to burst from her gums. A gnarled fist rose, as though in defiance, before wavering and falling, too weak to remain upright.
Her fist opened. Her tiny fingers clasped my thumb where my hands held her under her rump and shoulders. Her lips pulled back in a toothless smile: warm, kind and innocent. Entranced, I could only stare down at the trust that gazed deep into my eyes. Into the love she offered, without knowing, without caring that I wanted to throw her down and run. I had no faith I wouldn’t. She knew I wouldn’t.
“She’s the one.”
Iyumi’s voice broke the trance. I tore my eyes from the baby’s, wildly, desperately seeking the known, the familiar. I wanted no part of this, wanted out, wanted away from this infant that loved me without knowing me. “But –”
“No buts. She’s the gods’ chosen messenger. She’ll save us all.”
I glanced down at the baby troll, who gurgled and burped, still grinning toothlessly up at me. “You sure? This is one ugly kid.”
Iyumi scowled. “Since when does beauty equate innocence? This child is the purest soul on this earth. The most precious being the gods’ gave us.”
I gazed down at the wonder in my hands, the glorious beauty of those light brown eyes. If the baby troll were as ugly as a mud fence, those eyes made up for it and more. She loved me, me, a wanted murderer, a criminal and an outlaw. I suspected she knew what I was, and loved me anyway.
Like shades over a window, those trusting eyes closed. She slept. But inside my hands, her heart stumbled. Her lungs reached for air and found none. I frowned, raising her face to my ear, listening to her labored breathing, her struggle to continue. Iyumi was right.
She was dying.
Desperate, I sought Iyumi’s glance, forced her to look at me. “Are the tales true?”
“What? I –”
“Are they true?” I yelled, looming over her. “Do they drink blood to survive?”
Iyumi glanced away, floundering, scared. “Of animals, yes, but – why?”
“You knew I’d do it,” I muttered, holding the dying troll in my left arm as I yanked my dagger from its sheath. “You planned this. You and your friends.”
“Van –”
I shoved my blade into her hands. “Because a Shifter is half animal, isn’t that so? I’m nothing but a wild critter you can’t tame.”
I jerked my head at the baby lying across my arm, pillowed on my fingers. “Trolls feed on animal blood. That’s why you needed me.”
Her desperate panicked eyes met mine, wild, streaming tears. “No!”
“You despise lying, remember? Don’t even try. Just cut me.”
“What? Van, I can’t!”
“Cut me!” I roared.
Blinded by tears, turning her face way, Iyumi slashed my blade across my bared right wrist. I felt little pain, but bright red blood gushed from the wound. Not bothering to staunch it, I held the lips of my gaping cut to the infant troll’s mouth.
At first, her tongue protruded, tasting the red wet that coursed over her lips, streaming over her bulbous chin. Suddenly, her mouth opened in frantic greed. She sucked the essence of my life into her hungry belly, slurping, licking, gulping. My blood poured into her, offering her life
, sustaining her, staving off her death at the same time she killed me. My blood drained from me, one red drop at a time, through my wrist.
The baby fed lavishly, gaining steadily and lavishly in strength and life. Healthy color returned to her cheeks. Her fist around my thumb tightened. My skin felt her pulse quicken, at the same time her lungs filled. A thin tendril of weak magic from into her informed me how her body tipped back into the realm of the living. She would survive.
I did it. I saved the damn kid. Are you happy now, your effing lordships? Have I paid for my sins now? I wavered on my feet, almost blind and weaker than a newborn puppy. I licked my lips, thirsty, my throat raw. Oddly, I felt no craving for booze. Did hell serve brown ale? Wine? I hoped so. I knew I’d need it once the shock wore off.
I dropped to my knees.
Seriously weakened by blood loss, I handed the newly sated and now lively troll baby to Iyumi. I heard her burp in satisfaction, half-saw her chubby limbs rise in vigor and health. I shut my eyes, my head spinning. Go, child. Save us all. Remember me to them, will you?
“Van!”
I half saw Iyumi lay the baby down on the pallet of twigs, straw and an unspeakably nasty cloth. Trolls may save the world, I thought, my head spinning, my thoughts jangled. But they sure weren’t the cleanliest of saviors.
Her arm under my shoulder boosted me halfway to my feet. My weight, even as a human, was no match for her tiny bones. She staggered, caught her feet, grunted, cursed, and heaved to no avail. I took her down with me in a disorganized heap, throwing my body to the left and thus avoided crushing her beneath me.
Iyumi crawled out from under my arm and swirling dust, calling my name. I knew her soft lap cradled my head, her braid sliding off her shoulder to tease my nose. But why? She, and those bastards she served, achieved their goal. A tiny troll mite, their chosen savior, was alive because she killed me. Stick a fork in me, I thought. I’m done.
“Vanyar!”
Go away, I thought, shutting my eyes. I did as you commanded.
“Don’t you die on me now, Captain Vanyar,” she screeched, slapping my face. “I won’t have it, you hear me? You won’t die until I tell you.”
Too late, I thought, as the darkness enveloped me.
I woke to the sound of humming.
Do they hum in hell? While I wouldn’t have thought so, I suppose anything was possible. Perhaps demons liked to sing as they tortured the souls under their command. I felt no pain. Warmth enveloped my right wrist. Odd. Hellfire burned, or so the priests said. Why did I feel not just warm but comfortable?
I opened my eyes.
A grey stone ceiling met my inspection, my sight blurred. I blinked, then squinted for clarity. Aha! I know what that is, folks, hold your applause, thanks. It’s not a ceiling in a mansion or castle, but a cave. Ah, dammit, the bleeding cave again.
I groaned, cursing. Reality returned with a rush: I wasn’t dead. My head lay pillowed on Iyumi’s lap, and her cloak covered me from throat to thighs, lending me its warmth. Her kind hands wrapped my lacerated right wrist in a bandage. A rock dug into my left buttock, shattering the illusion I was comfortable.
“Lay still,” she ordered, breaking off her soft croon.
“Gods,” I groaned, my strength laughable. “Why am I still here?”
As she held my right arm within her own, I used my left to cover my eyes. “This sucks rocks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bite me.”
Iyumi tsked. “Ungrateful bastard. I spent the last half-hour dragging your stupid ass back from the grave and you return with insult. I should’ve left you to die.”
“Agreed.”
“Don’t be snide. It’s not your time.”
I lowered my arm enough to peer up at her. “It’s my time when I say it’s my time. And it’s my time.”
“Sorry. Wrong answer. Gods one, Van zero.”
My arm fell back and I blinked several times. “Shit.”
“Cheer up.” Iyumi smiled down into my upturned face. From this angle, her grin appeared predatory and wholly without mercy. “My father will string you up from the city’s north gate very soon.”
“Jolly good.”
“Until then, you’re my bitch.”
“How’s junior?”
Iyumi scowled. “Don’t call her junior.”
“Forgive me. Juniorette.”
Iyumi cast a fond glance aside, toward where I remembered the pallet lay. “She’s just fine, thanks to you.”
I shut my eyes again, listening. Soft gurgles and chuckles, punctuated by the occasional baby shriek of delight, emerged from the dank rags. “Did you at least have the decency to put her in something clean? I’d hate my effort be wasted because she caught a disease.”
“No worries.” Iyumi lifted my head and scooted out from under it. “Trolls are immune to almost any bug.”
I half-thought she’d permit my head to drop ignominiously to the hard floor of the cave, but she surprised me. Her gentle hands set me upon a crunchy cushion of dead leaves. As she rose and dusted the seat of her leather britches, she poked me in the ribs with her boot. “Get up, sluggard.”
So much for kind, feminine nursing. I sighed. “As long as I’m still alive, I may as well see you home.”
“You make a lovely royal mount.”
I paused halfway to my feet, eyeing her sidelong from under my hair. “Thanks. I think.”
Her snicker accompanied me as I staggered to my feet, dizzy and nauseous. I shook out her cloak, hiding the tremors in my hands, and handed it to Iyumi. She accepted it with a regal nod of thanks, and cast it over her shoulders. Her fingers didn’t tremble as she tied the knots at her throat, still smiling that insufferable smile. Damn her. I stalked outside, muttering imprecations under my breath.
Hopefully she, or her friends, gave me enough strength to not just survive, but change forms into that of a Centaur and carry her back to Caer Brannog and King Roidan. Home. It’s all downhill from here, I thought. Provided we struck no trouble along the way. In my current state, a rabbit might wrestle me into submission. We may have reached the mystery child first, but Flynn still roamed the lands loose and unfettered.
Iyumi remained inside the cave long enough to douse the fire before scooping up the divine messenger, rags and all. She obviously had no fear of possible occupants, outside the troll that was, living inside those disgusting wrappings. Snugging the baby inside the wool, next to her warmth, Iyumi hummed, wandering out from under the thorny brambles as though she walked in a dream. She gazed own into the folds, her expression serene, rapt, beyond beautiful.
“You’ll make a terrific mother.”
Of everything I’d ever said to her or about her never prepared me for the shy smile and rosy blush that crept from her dimples to her cheekbones. Iyumi, the royal bitch, ducked away from my eyes and compliment like a milkmaid at the first touch of a lover’s hand.
“It’s all I ever wanted to be.”
The soft admission forced me to swallow the sharp lump that mysteriously shut off my breath. It didn’t depart without a fight, however. I coughed and choked, turning away with the excuse that I needed to adjust the way my sword hung from my belt. Knife, present and accounted for. Clothing set comfortably. Boots laced – I shut my stinging eyes. She will never bear my children. My throat shut down, my heart fragmented, in pieces, gone. Gods.
“C’mon. Daylight’s wasting.”
“Be right there. I should say a word or two over the mother.”
I nodded, and turned my back. I drew a ragged breath, the tightness in my chest loosening slowly. Distracting my thoughts from her, I focused on my current task. Down the mountain. If we travelled until sunset, we can at least make the gorge before nightfall. Camp under the summer stars, rest the night, pick up the pace come dawn. Two days hard gallop and bob’s your uncle, we’ll be home in time for supper. Damn it! I drew another ragged breath, trying to still my emotions – grow up, boyo. She’s not for you.
Wrapped up in my wallowing misery and self-pity, I never paid any heed to my surroundings.
Cold metal slid around my neck.
I heard the sharp snick of the lock the instant I changed forms.
Nothing happened.
I remained myself, the body of the falcon I craved slipping fast out of my brain and Shifter ability. My body stood in thrall, enslaved within my vulnerable human body. And at the questionable mercy of whomever just captured me.
That meant only one thing: the ancient magics of the pewter manacles clasped my neck.
No!
Only that hellish, evil-driven, dark metal cut a magician, or Shape-Shifter, from his innate, gods-given control over his own body. Only the most powerful, or most learned, magicians knew their secrets. No one, outside the ancients, knew how to create them, or break them. Malik certainly knew, and Malik was dead.
My birthright slipped from my will and my power like sand through a clenched fist. I seized nothing at all. No magic, no will, no strength. As human as your average sheep-herder, I couldn’t call forth enough magic to light a candle.
But I could still fight. I spun about, snarling, reaching for my sword.
Two shadows lunged, one to either side of me. I went down in a tangle of thrashing arms, fists and curses. Seriously weakened by blood-loss, my strength failed when I needed it most. Within seconds, I lay face down in the dirt, strong hands forcing mine behind me. A third attacker kicked my face, his heavy boot smashing into my nose and cheekbone, my blood flying upward in a red shower. Gritting my teeth against an agonized howl, I prevented its immediate eruption only by choking on my own blood. Their merciless hands tied my arms behind me with thick leather binds, fire-toughened thongs I could never hope to break.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Iyumi emerge from the cave, the infant in her arms.
I coughed, raising my mouth from the dirt and blowing dust. “Run,” I gasped. “Run.”
Before she could think about taking my advice, two men, hidden in the bushes on either side of the cavern, took her down swiftly. The baby tumbled to the ground as she fell, crying out in shock and rage. Slightly more considerate of her status and gender than mine, one fellow pinned her by her shoulders, his hard-muscled weight forcing her against the stony earth as his mate clapped dark metal cuffs over her wrists. The infant troll dropped onto reasonably soft soil, but instantly set up a sharp scream of protest that raked one’s ear-drums into bursting.
The Unforgiven Page 40
