by J. C. Hendee
Even when they reached port sooner than expected, and not the one that Kyne, Marten, and Grim had hoped for, the journey had barely begun. The three of them had hoped to go all the way to the Lhoin’na’s great capital city, but the next part of journey was overland by wagon. All three did a lot of moaning and griping but not about the wagon.
Domin Ginjeriè explained that they would not go farther south. They would not be going to the great forest city of the Lhoin’na—a’Ghràihlôn’na, “Blessed of the Woods.” Even the corporal scowled over this sudden revelation. The domin had somewhere secret that she had arranged to take the pup.
No matter how much Kyne pestered and pleaded along the way, the domin refused to say more… until they arrived.
“We are here,” Domin Ginjeriè said, sitting up on the wagon’s bench with the corporal. “And now we wait.”
“For what?” Corporal Lúcan asked.
Both Marten and Grim were up on their feet in the wagon’s back, looking all about, though strangely neither said a word. Kyne grew frantic to see what they saw, but the pup was sleeping with his head in her lap.
“For someone I asked to come,” the domin finally answered.
Desperation won out, and Kyne tried to shift the pup’s head. When he awoke with a grumble and lifted his head, she got up. Any questions of her own were stifled by what she saw.
Everywhere around the wagon was an open plain like a sea of tall golden grass that glared under the high sun. There were hints of yellow-green in spots here and there, but she didn’t see what those were… and she didn’t look at them for long.
In the distance were the trees, if that word was even right for how big they were. They easily dwarfed nearer ones in the woods the wagon had just rolled through to the plain’s edge; they would have dwarfed the tallest towers she had ever seen. But the way they stopped from spreading into the grassy plain, as if choosing a line to hold forever, was somehow disturbing… like facing the ranks of a still and silent army warning anyone against coming too close.
“We are at the northern tip of Lhoin’na territory,” Domin Ginjeriè said, “where few of even their people come. This is the best place I could think of to avoid any eyes… or questions as to why he had to be brought from elsewhere at all.”
She looked back and down at the pup, and so did Kyne.
The pup rose up on all fours and, after a glance at Kyne, pushed in beside her to peer out of the wagon. His ears pricked straight up as he stared across the plain, but then his nose wrinkled with a low rumble.
Kyne’s puzzlement at that was interrupted when Corporal Lúcan suddenly leaped off the wagon’s bench. Marten leaned over the wagon’s other side for a look, but then Domin Ginjeriè rose upright.
“What is it?” Marten called out.
The corporal didn’t answer, and Kyne hurried over to Marten as Grim did the same. They saw Corporal Lúcan stride purposefully out beyond the horses, his off-hand already wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
“Everything you hear and see, you will never speak of to anyone,” Domin Ginjeriè said, and she glanced over her shoulder right at Kyne.
This time, not only did she not smile, her stern gaze was as harsh as that of High Premin Sykion in the worst of her moods. The domin turned that same look upon Marten and Grim.
“Yes?” she said sharply.
Both of them inched back before nodding, for the domin had never spoken to anyone that way before.
Domin Ginjeriè turned that cold stare again on Kyne, who quickly nodded, though now she was frightened about what would happen here.
The corporal planted himself well beyond the horses.
“Corporal,” the domin called out, “this visitor is expected.”
Still, he didn’t respond or move, and Kyne looked out beyond him.
A lone rider came at a gallop across the plain, holding the reins with one hand while the other gripped a long wooden pole that might be one and half times his height. What stood out as much, even from a distance, was his hair. Wheat or sand colored, it was pulled up in a topknot, and that tail of hair whipped like the mane of his tall russet horse.
As the rider neared, Kyne saw his large amber irises below swept up eyebrows… much like Alshenísh’ìn’s. That was no surprise for where the domin had brought them. What was a surprise was the way this lhoin’na was dressed.
He reined in a stone’s throw beyond the corporal and off to the right, and he dismounted before his horse reached a full stop. His tawny vestment was darker than his face or bare arms and covered in swirls of polished steel instead of studs or rings on most hauberks. A slightly curved and somewhat long sword’s hilt protruded high over one shoulder. Above the other was a cluster of feathered arrows likely in a quiver. That top tail of his hair was bound with a thick silver ring. Most prominent was the forest green sash across his armor, held in place by a silver ash-leaf broach.
Kyne knew of that sash and broach from her reading. This was not any Shé’ith—“Serenitier”—of the Lhoin’na border guard; this was one of their high officers.
Though handsome, like any lhoin’na male, he might not have been thought so among his own kind. His face was a bit angular and covered in a harsh, stern expression. Perhaps that, more than age, had left permanent but fine creases around his eyes and mouth.
“This doesn’t look good,” Grim whispered.
“Do not worry,” Domin Ginjeriè said. “Everything is as it should be.”
Kyne looked up to find the domin watching the Shé’ith office with a soft smile once again on her face. And that braided token-bookmark was again in her hand.
Corporal Lúcan shifted into the rider’s path. The officer halted and carefully raised an empty hand, palm out.
“Peace, guardian,” he said, his words a bit thick with his people’s accent. “I mean no harm to your charges and have come at the domin’s private request.”
Corporal Lucan shifted enough for a quick glance back, and Domin Ginjeriè nodded. At that, the corporal followed as the rider finished his approach, came up beside the wagon, and offered a hand to the domin.
She took it, as she stepped off beside him. “Thank you, commander.”
He frowned even more. “And are we now so formal?”
“Thank you… Althahk.”
“It is good to see you once more, Aumaliha,” the commander said softly, still holding her hand.
At that strange term, somewhat like the domin’s given name, Kyne was unable to choose which of the pair to stare at the most. Apparently, there was a lot more concerning Domin Ginjeriè that no one knew. One thing didn’t match up.
The braid of the token-bookmark didn’t match the color of the commander’s horse, let alone his hair. Both the commander’s voice and expression turned harsh.
“If only this return were for a less disturbing reason,” he said, turning his hard eyes on Kyne and then downward. “And without another need of secrecy.”
Another need pricked Kyne’s curiosity, especially when she looked down and found the pup beside her.
The pup’s ears flattened a little as he eyed the commander.
Commander Althahk looked once more to Domin Ginjeriè and then stepped off through the grass.
“Bring him out while I call for the elder,” he said.
Domin Ginjeriè nodded, leaving Kyne to wonder whom this new person would be.
“What’s happening?” Corporal Lúcan asked. “Were we not to release the pup and leave?”
A shrill whistle pierced the air. Commander Althahk lowered his hand from his mouth, and Domin Ginjeriè looked up to Kyne.
“Bring the pup,” the domin said. “There is someone who must meet him, before we can send him to… his own kind.”
Suddenly, Kyne didn’t want to go on with this. She had suffered through losing Shade, and this was as bad—no, worse. She didn’t want to face the pup’s sky-blue eyes and instead looked to her friends.
Grim blinked too much, didn’t look at her, and shrugged or m
aybe cringed.
Marten, upon meeting her eyes, scowled for an instant and looked down, probably at the pup. And then he looked away, too.
“It’s what you wanted,” Marten whispered. “What it was all about… right?”
She stood there waiting for… something more, anything else.
“Kyne?” the domin called firmly. “Bring him out.”
There was one other change that had happened along the journey. As she crouched down in the wagon’s bed, not truly looking at the pup, she whispered, “come.”
And when she crawled toward the wagon’s back, the pup followed.
He hadn’t learn many words, unlike Shade. Aside from too little time to teach him more, he didn’t always listen if he didn’t feel like it—just like Shade.
No, more than Shade.
When Kyne dropped into the tall grass, the pup hoped off the wagon bed to follow. She reluctantly rounded the wagon with him at her side, though she slowed even more, not quite stepping up next Domin Ginjeriè, who stood several paces beyond the wagon’s horses.
Far beyond the commander, someone else stepped from the distant trees.
At first, that one was too far off to see clearly. Whoever it was had hair darker than any lhoin’na. Coming a little closer, it appeared to be a woman… but still a lhoin’na, at that.
“What is she doing here?” the domin asked.
Commander Althahk turned his head, his brown creasing a little more. “No one, not even I, tells the Foirfeahkan when or where she may go.”
The corporal suddenly jerked out his sword.
“No!” the commander snapped. “There is no danger here. And even if, you will not spill blood on these sacred plains!”
Kyne didn’t understand what that meant or the corporal’s action, but then she spotted the shadow… or its path.
Halfway out to the approaching strange woman, something else came more quickly through the tall grass. The approach of that dark sharp made the golden stalks bend away in a path coming straight toward the wagon.
Kyne’s was utterly fixed when a huge majay-hì pushed out into plain sight.
Even as the pup began to growl, she could only stare.
At a guess, the male might be taller than Shade, for he was so… huge.
Covered in charcoal gray fur, except for the grizzle of white around his muzzle that ran thinly down his throat and chest, he walked with a slight limp in his left rear leg. Kyne was uncertain, but she thought she spotted a long angled line of thinned fur on the haunch above that leg. Whether it was scar or not, she mostly stared at the elder’s large sky-blue eyes.
“Oh, not another one,” Grim whispered.
At the commander’s severe glance, Grim shrank away behind Marten, who also looked a bit worried.
“What now?” Kyne asked.
“Just wait,” Domin Ginjeriè said softly as she stepped forward.
The domin dropped to one knee, and that pack elder went straight to her. He was tall enough to look her in the eyes.
Domin Ginjeriè smiled as she raised her empty hand, palm out. The elder sniffed that palm once and swung his long muzzle around it to huff into her face. She laughed as the old majay-hì shook himself all over and nosed her right in the cheek.
Kyne was so shocked that her eyes began burn before she remembered to blink. When she did, she noticed Commander Althahk was frowning and looking away. That wild looking woman out in the grass didn’t look pleased either. And when Kyne looked back to the domin, she spotted that token-bookmark in the domin’s other hand resting in her lap.
The yew-wood disk didn’t matter anymore, whatever it meant.
The hair braid matched the elder’s fur.
Kyne had to blink again after staring too much.
Domin Ginjeriè had done far more than just visit the Lhoin’na and somehow gained a Shé’ith commander’s favor. Wynn Hygeorht was not the only sage to have gone among the majay-hì.
The elder’s large head briefly swung toward Kyne and then lowered as he eyed the pup. At that, she heard the pup almost hiss.
Commander Althahk turned quickly in shock as Kyne looked down.
The pup had backed up a step.
When Kyne looked up again, the elder had not moved, though Domin Ginjeriè appeared to watch him intently. Beyond that pair, and farther out in the tall grass, that other woman watched carefully as well. She was even stranger looking than the elder.
Dressed in a pleated skirt bound with leather straps around her waist, that one was definitely small for a lhoin’na, maybe no taller than the domin. She was also darker of skin, and so was her hair—a light brown that had streaks of gray, though there were no visible lines of age in her face. There was also something different about her hard eyes, but Kyne wasn’t certain from a distance.
“Leaf’s Heart,” the domin said, and her smile was gone. “One in a line of ancient priestesses of the old ways. She lives with the packs.”
Kyne’s breath stopped as her gaze raced back to that wild-looking woman.
“It is time,” Domin Ginjeriè said as she rose up next to the pack elder and turned to Kyne. “You may have to… encourage him.”
Kyne didn’t want any of this anymore.
“You must,” the domin insisted.
She reluctantly knelt, turned to the pup, and very carefully reached out. It had taken a long while for him to accept her touch, especially after she had grabbed him and dropped him in the trunk that night in the alley. She touched the side of his face as he watched her, and then she pointed off toward the far trees with her other hand.
“Go,” she whispered.
He growled, jerked back a step.
“What are you doing?”
Kyne stiffened and looked up into the commander’s furious amber eyes. That instant broke when the pup whirled on commander with a quick snap of his jaws. At that, the commander actually flinched in open shock.
“Althahk!” Domin Ginjeriè uttered sharply. “Kyne is not giving him a command. It is simply one of few words the young one has learned.”
And in waiting, the domin turned her hard gaze on Kyne.
Kyne almost broke there and then. She pointed again toward the trees in looking into the pup’s eyes.
“Go… please,” she whispered. “You have to… go.”
How long did he stare back, ears half-flattened with his jowls twitching? And finally, the pup stalked off into the grass.
The pack elder lowered his head and crept in with his nose out to sniff.
All of the pup’s hackles rose. He twisted away from the elder with a snarl and a warning snap.
The elder retreated a step as Kyne quickly stood up.
Why had the pup done that?
“Nasty little brat,” Marten muttered. “Doesn’t even like his own kind.”
The priestess’ sudden back-step, and Kyne’s gaze shifted again. The wild woman of the forest stared as the pup circled wide away from her. With a low rumble and hiss, he headed off alone toward the tree-line.
“Perhaps he has been through too much,” Corporal Lúcan said. “Only time will teach him that he is again safe at home.”
The priestess kept turning slowly, following the pup’s progress in astonishment… and then she whirled back, glaring at someone else.
Kyne found Commander Althahk sternly watching in silence, but his eyes were as wide as those of the strange woman. He shook his head slowly and looked to Domin Ginjeriè.
“Perhaps as you suspected, Aumaliha,” he whispered.
Unlike the others, Domin Ginjeriè didn’t appear surprised at the pup’s actions. If anything, she looked deeply concerned in watching him.
“So, are we done?” Grimm asked.
Kyne watched the pup’s tail farther off between golden blades of grass.
Something was very wrong here.
The pup certainly was nasty with everyone but her, and even that had taken time. How nasty was a little different from one person to the next. He had toler
ated Domin Ginjeriè a little but had snapped at Alshenísh’ìn, a lhoin’na, and even at the commander. He didn’t care for either the pack elder or the priestess. It was as if he didn’t know or recognize any of them… or didn’t want to.
Certainly he was too young to have come all the way from Shade’s homeland, but if not there and not liking to be here…
Kyne began panting, and about to turn…
“Kyne!” Domin Ginjeriè snapped.
When she turned in fright, she met the kindly domin’s not-so-kind stare.
“You have talked enough,” the domin warned, “about things you should not. Understand?”
Kyne stood there with her mouth half open.
“What’s going on?” Marten asked, and even Grim looked about in blank confusion.
A sudden high-pitched bark pulled Kyne eyes.
The pup dropped into the grass from some leap up in looking back, maybe at her. Then he was gone.
The pack elder stalked off in following the pup’s path, and as that old but huge charcoal majay-hì passed the priestess, she stepped in beside him… but not before a long stare at Kyne.
Kyne suddenly lunged after them, and the butt of a wooded pole slammed the earth in front her.
“Where they go is not for you,” the commander warned, and he pulled back his headless spear. “The young one is with his own kind, and for that, we will be forever grateful to you.”
The commander rushed off to his horse, which still waited silently for him. Vaulting into the saddle, he bowed his head once to Domin Ginjeriè and then turned his mount. Horse and rider galloped toward, and vanished into, the immense forest only moments before priestess and the pack elder followed.
Kyne could barely keep herself from running for those trees.
“Time to go home,” Domin Ginjeriè said quietly.
“What?” Marten nearly shouted. “We don’t get to see a’Gra… a’Gr… the tree city, elven sages, or nothing? After all this, just back to… laundry?”
With a sharp sigh, Domin Ginjeriè looked to Corporal Lucan. “Would you please take the boys back to the wagon.”
Kyne heard the corporal’s footfalls and more grumbling from Marten.
“Hey, are you coming?”
She started slightly at Grim peeking around her shoulder.
