EMBRACE OF MEMORY

by Vicki McElfresh

  "You do, eh?" one of the drunks said, drawing Cree back to reality. "You hear that Lars; this puny ant wants us to let that girl go." Lars laughed and staggered to his feet.

  "Let us pass." Meeting the drunk's eyes, he grasped the anger and lust emanating and twisted them, weaving away both emotions. "You will let us pass." His tone was flat and commanding. The drunk sank to his knees, and Cree reached for the core of the man's being, his mental hand an icy brand against the warmth of the drunk's mind. At an anguished whine from the drunk, Cree released him. "We should go now." He ignored Benjamin's stunned expression and Mirayla's pained one as he shouldered past the drunk and through the door.

  Outside, the cold wind ripped through his clothing, a welcome reminder of reality. He laid his head against Windchaser's neck and listened to the steady beat of the horse's heart. The sound was soothing.

  Benjamin stared at him. "What did you do? You used the magic again, didn't you? Just like in the mountains."

  Cree winced at the accusation. "No, Benjamin, not magic." He turned his face into Windchaser's mane, hiding tears of weakness.

  "We should go," Mirayla said. "How far is this cottage?"

  "Not far." His voice was muffled. "Only an hour or so." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and plucked a few stray hairs from his mouth. He mounted and turned to Mirayla. "Shall we?" He turned the stallion's head toward the road.

  "Cree? What did you do?" Her voice quavered, betraying her discomfort.

  "I don't want to talk."

  "It's important."

  He paid careful attention to the pommel of his saddle. Her expectant gaze bored into his back. He teetered a moment, torn between telling her everything and fear of her reaction if she knew the truth. "Please, let it be." His voice cracked, and he winced.

  "If you don't share the pain, it will be with you always. I thought you were tired of darkness."

  "I am tired of darkness. The darkness I made for myself." He glanced at her. Those were not the words she had hoped to hear. "But that was not darkness, Mirayla, that was insanity. I've had enough of insanity."

  "You can't deny who and what you are. The magic is part of you, a part you'll never erase or destroy."

  "Mirayla, I don't want the magic, and it has never and will never want me." He shifted just enough that he could face Mirayla. Their eyes met. Her soft, blue gaze melted the ice around his heart. He wanted to do what she asked. The old hunger returned, and for a moment, he wanted the magic, wanted to feel the power coursing through his veins and hear it sing in time with his heart. But then, a faint flash of fire streaked across his memory, and the hunger was swept away with it.

  "The magic is always there, and it will always be there," she said, shaking her head. "You may not want it, but it has chosen you. You'll never be rid of it, and you have to learn to control it. You're going to have to accept that."

  "I don't have to accept anything. The power may always be there, but the temptation can be conquered. I have done so for years, and I will continue to do so." He turned Windchaser toward the road.

  "It will kill you, Cree Lin."

  He flashed her a smile. "Only if I let it." He nudged the stallion towards Benjamin and heard Mirayla fall into step behind him.

  "Where is this place?" Benjamin asked.

  "Just follow the road. We shouldn't miss it." The hairs on his neck prickled; his spine stiffened. Waves of malevolent anger assaulted him. He looked back at the inn. In the doorway stood the drunk's companion, no longer staggering, no longer confused. The man crossed his arms and smiled. Cree's stomach somersaulted; his palms sweated. His eyes traveled down the man's stained, brown shirt and breeches. A sword belt hung at his waist, and in the scabbard was a sight that caused Cree's heart to contract, the blade of a Reaper. Cree sucked in a sharp breath. Without a word, he spurred Windchaser to a gallop.

  "Cree!" Mirayla called as he sped past.

  "Ride! Ride now!" He bent low over the stallion's neck, making himself as small as possible. He wanted to be far away from the little village and its inn. The sound of hoofbeats startled him, and he glanced up to see Mirayla, crouched over her horse's neck, frantically trying to catch him. Benjamin galloped along with her, teeth gritted against each painful jar of his horse's stride. He rose up just enough to glance behind him, half-expecting to see armed soldiers, but there was only an empty stretch of road.

  ~*~

  The stable man hadn't lied. The cottage did boast a stable large enough for all three horses. He even found grain stored in one of the stalls, and the cottage had its own well. The house itself was disappointing. The wooden box beds all had mattresses, but mice had torn them apart, and the stuffing was scattered across the single room. The floor was covered in a sheet of dust, and the fireplace was black with soot. He wrinkled his nose. "I think I'd rather take my chances in the stable."

  "Why do you say that?" Mirayla asked. "We could take those mattresses off the bed and-"

  "There's straw in the stable. Makes a much softer bed than a wooden box." He pointed to the fireplace. "And I'm not sure I'd trust that. It looks like it hasn't been cleaned in an age."

  "Any fire's better than none," Benjamin reasoned. "I'm tired of freezing every night."

  "And I'd like to wake up in one piece."

  "What's that mean?"

  "You didn't see the man watching us?"

  Mirayla shook her head. "What man?"

  "The drunk's companion. He watched us leave, and he was no more a woodsman than I, especially with a Reaper's sword on his hip."

  Benjamin whistled. "That's why you tore out of there like your tail was on fire."

  Cree nodded. "I hope he doesn't realize where we've gone. We need to leave early in the morning, and my vote is for the stable tonight. We've slept cold the last couple of nights. One more won't kill us."

  Mirayla grumbled and sighed with disappointment. "Oh, all right, but I was looking forward to not freezing."

  He smiled sympathetically. "I was, too, but we'll survive. We'll be in Socorrow's Rest soon, and you've assured me the beds are warm and soft."

  She laughed. "That they are."

  "No more inns after the last one. I'd rather be cold, hungry, and alive." He hoisted his bedroll and trotted off to the stable. With a little coaxing, Windchaser would let him curl up next to him and share his warmth.

  ~*~

  Cree woke in pitchy darkness and listened. Benjamin snored nearby, and Mirayla's soft breath echoed him. A mouse scuttled through the hay. One of the horses snorted. All normal night sounds, yet his skin prickled at some unseen danger. His senses screamed to run. He stood and felt his way to the stable entrance. The night was still, and the half moon cast pale light over the stark landscape. A nightingale sang nearby. An owl hooted.

  He shivered and shook his head. "I was dreaming," he muttered. He started back to his bed. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he felt a sick sense of foreboding. Frightened, he grabbed Windchaser's saddle and woke the stallion with a mind touch. The horse snorted and rose. Cree saddled and led him to the entrance. He went back to wake his companions.

  "Saddle your horses, quickly. We have to leave, now."

  "Mac Torol?" Benjamin yawned. "What's the problem? Dawn's a long way off."

  "I don't know, but we have to leave now, tonight. We can't be here in the morning."

  Mirayla pushed the hand shaking her away. "Cree, what's gotten into you?"

  "I don't know, but we have to leave." He reached for Benjamin's tack and hoisted it onto the gelding. "Is your horse saddled, Mirayla?" The brush of leather against leather was his only answer. He tossed Benjamin his reins. "Let's ride."

  He was on Windchaser's back and out the door before Benjamin and Mirayla had even mounted. He urged the stallion to a trot and did not bother to wait for his companions.

  "Cree, wait!"

  He pulled Windchaser to a stop and looked back. Mirayla and Benjamin were riding hard to catch up.

  "Something's wrong," M
irayla said when she caught up. "You wouldn't leave like that if there weren't."

  "I don't know. I just have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right."

  "Probably had another nightmare." Benjamin trotted alongside him. "You were confused and had to involve us in your insanity."

  Cree's brow wrinkled. He had been dreaming. He remembered a brief flash of something. That was what woke him, a sense of impending danger and a flash of red. He shuddered. "This is different. I used to have dreams--" He watched the ground pass under Windchaser's hooves.

  Mirayla cleared her throat. "What kind of dreams?"

  He shrugged. "Odd ones, that's all."

  She sighed. "I see."

  Cree's eyes threatened to close. "If we see a likely campsite--preferably one where we won't be easily seen from the road--we can stop. There's no point riding all night and all day tomorrow." The moon hid behind a cloud, throwing a blanket of darkness over the road, yet still they rode. He wanted to be as far from the cottage as possible by morning.

  "There's a clearing ahead." Mirayla pointed. "Just over that rise. It would make a good resting spot. It's not too visible from the road."

  Cree yawned. "I don't mind, as long as we won't be seen from the road. You're certain it's there?"

  "I'm sure. I recognize the area."

  "Lead the way then." He let Windchaser lag so Mirayla could take the lead position. The moon slipped from behind its cover and let a bit of light creep onto the road. In the soft light, Mirayla looked like a spirit to Cree. Her dark coat and breeches combined with her pale skin and amber hair lent her a pale glow. Heavy clothing hid her figure, but the gentle sway of her body with the motions of her horse hinted at a lithe, trim form.

  "Nice scenery, eh?" Benjamin whispered hoarsely at his side.

  "Yes." Cree pretended not to see the blacksmith.

  Benjamin chuckled and rode in close to Cree. "You know, you should just topple her and have done with it."

  "Benjamin!" Mirayla did not seem to have heard. "I'll do no such thing. She has no interest in me anyway. Except perhaps-" He paused, trying to think of the appropriate term. "As an object of study."

  "Really?" The blacksmith stroked his beard and chuckled. "Then why does she favor you with looks that would make a dog in heat blush?"

  Cree's cheeks grew hot, and he was glad the darkness hid his blush. "I don't know."

  "I do," Benjamin continued, his voice smug. "I think she's in love with you, and you are infatuated with her. I told you, you're destined for each other."

  "We've been through that before, Benjamin. She's not interested-"

  "No, you're afraid you just might find someone worth caring for who cares for you also. You're being selfish, Mac Torol. If you want to feel miserable-"

  "I don't need to listen to this, and I don't want to." He slowed Windchaser to steady walk until Benjamin was well out of hearing distance. He scratched the stallion's ears and sighed. The blacksmith had pulled alongside of Mirayla, and Cree couldn't stop his heart from beating a bit faster when he heard her laugh.

  ~*~

  The clearing was not hidden as well as Cree would have liked. A screen of a few trees and one large boulder were all that shielded it from the eyes of anyone passing on the road.

  "This is it." Mirayla slid from the back of her horse and led it into the clearing. "The trees provide better cover in the summer, but if we don't build a fire and are quiet, we probably won't be noticed." Cree and Benjamin followed her.

  Cree led the horses deeper into the woods and tethered them. He stripped them of their tack and suppressed his guilt when he realized he did not have the energy to brush them down. He trudged back to his companions and sagged against the rock. He closed his eyes and drifted into light slumber.

  "Are you going to sleep like that?"

  The sound startled him from the edge of a dream. "What?" His tongue felt thick, and his eyes felt like they had been glued together.

  "I said, are you going to sleep like that? You could lay that bedroll out and lie down."

  He cracked open his eyes and saw Mirayla. Dazed, he glanced down at the bedding in his lap. "I could, couldn't I?" He smiled. "I was so tired, I forgot. And at the moment, I could sleep just about anywhere."

  "Let me." She took the wad of bedding from him and rolled it out on the ground. "There, now you can lie down."

  His smile widened, and he moved to sit on the blanket. "Thank you." Their eyes met. He felt flushed, and his palms were sweating. He was trapped by the open expression in her eyes. "Why do you want to help me?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I need to help you?"

  "That's not a fair answer. It's not an answer at all." He turned away and smoothed a corner of his blanket.

  "All right," she said. "You have great potential, great power within you-"

  "I don't want the power. I don't want magic, and-"

  "It doesn't want you," she finished. "Yes, you've said that before. But is it the magic you are afraid of or is it what the magic might offer that frightens you?"

  He said nothing and traced the fold of his blanket with a finger. He regretted asking the question now.

  "Look at me, Cree." Her voice was soft, yet commanding. And Cree dragged his eyes back to hers. "There are people who care for you. Do you not believe you are worth caring for?"

  He stared at her, too caught in the spell of her gaze to speak. "I destroy everything I touch," he whispered finally.

  "I don't believe that, and neither do you." She inched closer until their knees touched. "Besides, I think there's a person very much worth caring for under that mask of pain. I've seen him already."

  "You have?"

  She nodded. "I have. I've seen glimpses of what you could be. Stop pretending, Cree Lin, stop fighting. Let yourself be what you were meant to be."

  Tears welled in his eyes. "I can't." His voice shook with the effort of keeping his emotions at bay. "I-I've tried before, once, when-"

  She laid a finger on his lips, silencing him. "No, you aren't ready yet. You've still too much guilt, too much pain, too much fear. When you can let go of those, then you'll be ready."

  He raised a trembling hand to her face. "You'll help me?"

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I will."

  He turned her palm upward and kissed the inside. "Then I'll try again." He held her hand a moment longer, then smiled and lay down. In moments, he was asleep, and his dreams were haunted by nothing more sinister than Mirayla's sweet face and soft hands.

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  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Muffled voices woke him. At first he thought they were merely echoes from his dream, but he soon realized the voices were coming from the road. He stiffened.

  "They had to have come this way, Captain," said a voice from the road. Heavy boots tramped through the grass near the road.

  He let out a tense breath and checked for Mirayla and Benjamin, who were both still asleep. If we're caught, it'll be my fault. Why didn't I insist we press on? On his belly, Cree crawled to the edge of the boulder and peered around its side. A group of Reapers had paused on the road.

  "You said they would be at the woodcutter's cottage, too, but they weren't. There wasn't a sign of them," another voice replied. Cree guessed this must be captain.

  "They must have word somehow. Lars said they tore out of the village like their tail was on fire," the first voice said.

  "Lieutenant, I don't want excuses. I want the fugitives. Are you certain they're headed this way?"

  "Yes, Captain," Lieutenant said. "The girl was planning to take him to Socorrow's Rest, and there's only one road to Socorrow's Rest."

  Silence fell for a moment. "They must be hiding. Search the forest!"

  Cree started and slunk back behind his boulder. "No," he whispered.

  "But, Captain, they probably rode straight for Socorrow's Rest."

  "Lieutenant, that was an order. I'll take no chances. The Lor
d wants them, and he shall have them. Now, search the forest!"

  Cree didn't hear the Lieutenant's muttered reply. He closed his eyes. "Please," he prayed. "Please don't let them find us." A bush crunched nearby, and he flinched, expecting the inevitable cry of discovery.

  "There's no sign, Captain!" one of the men announced.

  "Here's fresh tracks," called another voice. "Looks like they got off the road here and back on. They must be ahead of us."

  "On your horses!" Captain cried. "After them!"

  Cree let out the breath he had been holding. He peeked around the corner of the rock. The road was silent and empty. Benjamin and Mirayla both still slept. He looked for the horses and froze when he realized they were not tethered where he had left them. They had been moved closer to the camp.

  "I moved them when I laid the false trail," Mirayla said.

  "I-I thought you were asleep."

  "No, I heard them. I kept them from seeing us."

  "How?"

  "A shield. We should wake Benjamin and go. This is not the only road to Socorrow's Rest, just the easiest one."

  Cree shook Benjamin's shoulder until he woke. "Come on, Benjamin, it's time to go."

  Benjamin opened his eyes and stared at Cree. "You must be slipping. You're up and aware this early."

  Cree grinned. "We had a little company. You slept through the whole thing. And unless you want to decorate a prison cell in Ka-shal Tiroth, I suggest you get up."

  Benjamin grumbled but rolled to his feet and stretched. "How far to this keep of yours, Mirayla?"

  "By that road, about two days, but we're going to take a different road. Three days, at least. We won't get to Socorrow's Rest before they do, though."

  Cree rolled up his bedding and went to retrieve his saddle. "Does that matter?"

  "It might." She bit her lip and kicked at a rock. "Mama doesn't know where I am or what I've done."

  "What?" Cree almost dropped his saddle. "All this time, you've been telling me that I'll be welcome there, and you mother knows nothing about me. What kind of game are you playing, Mirayla?" He threw the saddle onto Windchaser's back, and his irritation caused the horse to shy.