Love Never-Ending

by Anny Cook

  Desperately wishing that he could say otherwise, Dai just nodded. “She will never be able to bond. His revenge for her rejection is complete. We cannot change what has happened. We will work on healing her heart and soul. But first we must heal her body.”

  Rebaccah choked on her angry tears. “Find a way for her to bond! Bonding will heal her heart! She’s only sixteen! You find a way for our baby to bond when the time comes, Dai! She loves children. It would be a sin for her to be barren.”

  Dai’s sad eyes met Ham’s. “Take Rebaccah home now. I will remain with Samara and keep her safe.”

  * * * * *

  Samara shook the bad memories away. There was no place for them on this bright sunny morning. Better to recall the events that led to her having her own home. She smiled in remembrance of how it all started with a visit with her Aunt Jade.

  “I have come to take your son away,” Samara gaily informed the lovely auburn-haired woman quietly crocheting in the garden.

  “Ah? Any particular one? Or will any of them do?” Jade inquired lightly. “There are ten of them to choose from so I’ll be very interested to see which one you pick.”

  “I want Falcon. We are going to start a village newspaper.” Fascinated with Jade’s ability to crochet in spite of her blindness, Samara watched her long pale blue fingers slip the crochet hook in and out of the soft loops of yarn with amazing speed.

  “And what particular qualities does Falcon have that you need? I would suppose Panther and Llynx would have energy to spare if you need someone to deliver your papers.”

  Samara shuddered. “No, thanks. Don’t think that you’ll palm off those two young demons on me. Falcon can write. I need a reporter.”

  Jade dropped her crochet project in her lap and tilted her head to one side. “Really? Dear me, I must have a chat with Falcon. He’s never mentioned writing.” Her expression took on a listening quality and Samara knew she was no doubt having a mental conversation with one of her mates—either Merlyn or Dai. “Are you sure Falcon will be interested?” Jade finally asked doubtfully.

  “Let us ask him,” Samara suggested. “I will be content to leave it up to him.” She plopped down in one of the comfortable Adirondack chairs placed in the cool shady garden. She always enjoyed the lovely outdoor room that Merlyn and Dai had arranged for Jade. Idly, she plucked a spare ball of yarn from the table next to her, admiring the soft minty green color, before returning it to its place.

  Without further discussion, Jade summoned Falcon from the library. Falcon? Will you please come out to the patio?

  A few moments later a young boy with serious dark blue eyes and fiery braids appeared in the doorway. “You called, Mama?”

  “Come out, son. Samara has come to ask you something.” Jade took up her crocheting as she gently reminded him, “First see to the comfort of your guest.”

  “Of course, Mama.” Falcon turned to Samara with a wide smile that offered a brief hint of fangs. “May I bring you some tea and cookies, Samara?”

  “That would be lovely. Apple, please,” she replied gravely.

  “One moment, then. Mama, what tea would you like?”

  “Honeybush. Thank you, Falcon.”

  When Falcon vanished back into house, Samara chuckled. “Your children are so well mannered, Jade. I have no idea how you do it.”

  “Even the demons, Panther and Llynx?” Jade tempered her jibe with a small smile.

  “Yes, even Panther and Llynx,” Samara admitted. “They’re both so inventive about the trouble they get into. But I have to say that they’ve never been rude. We’ll see what they’re like next year when I have both of them in my class.” She looked around the garden, remembering long-ago days when she played there with Eppie and Wrenna. “It’s hard to imagine this was once a muddy field where we played house and dress up.”

  “Dress up? You mean dress down. None of you wore clothes back then.”

  “I was talking about our hair. We used to pull it up on top of our heads and paste it down with that yellow mud.” Samara snorted genteelly. “Mama scolded me something fierce about it.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember Dai and Merlyn complaining about washing the mud out of the girls’ hair. Knowing my sister, like I do, yes, I imagine Rebaccah had quite a bit to say about it. What is she up to today?”

  “Mama’s getting ready to go to Rebaccah’s Promise for a visit. Qwenna wants to attend the teacher’s seminar in Bell’s Corner so Mama’s going to watch Daniel while she’s gone.”

  Jade laughed. “As though there aren’t enough people in Rebaccah’s Promise to watch dozens of children, let alone one small boy. At seven, he really doesn’t need much supervision, does he? Well, that’s all right. She’ll enjoy the visit.”

  Falcon reappeared with a neatly arranged tray of tea mugs steaming with fragrant tea and a small platter of cookies. He carefully set it down on the little table between his mother and Samara. After adding a generous dollop of honey to Jade’s mug, he placed it within reach and quietly said, “Hot tea at five. Cookies at two.”

  When the ladies were sipping their tea and munching on the delicate quoltania cookies, Falcon inquired with barely restrained eagerness, “What is it, Samara? What did you want to ask?”

  “Falcon…” Jade reproved quietly.

  “I plan to start a newspaper. Papa has agreed to act as an advisor. I wonder if you would like to be a reporter?”

  Falcon sat down in an empty chair with a thump while he stared at her in amazement. “Really? You want me?”

  “You write very well, Falcon. You’re bilingual which means that your stories can run in both common and valley language. Will you do it?”

  “Yes! Yes!” He bounced to his feet and rushed into the house.

  “Where is he going?” Samara demanded.

  He ran back onto the patio and shoved a sheaf of linual sheets covered with neat spiky writing and valley glyphs into Samara’s hands. “See, I started. I wrote a story about the Midsummer Gathering!”

  “This is exactly what I was thinking about.” She turned to Jade and asked, “Satisfied?”

  “Yes, I’m satisfied. Why don’t you use the library to make your plans? I’m sure you have all sorts of ideas you’ll need to work out. Go on, then! I’ll ask Robyn to clear away the tea things.”

  Two weeks later Panther and Llynx proudly distributed the first issue of the Mystic Valley Times. In addition to the headline story about the Midsummer Gathering, it had an article on gardening contributed by Eppie, an announcement section, a lost and found section and the warriors’ training schedules. For a first edition, Samara thought it looked pretty good. And Hamilton pointed out people would be willing to contribute news once they realized the advantages of a newspaper.

  They printed extra copies on the hand-set printing press and distributed them at the Midsummer Gathering where the council immediately comprehended the advantages of a valley newspaper. That summer the council proposed and passed new barter positions for newspaper workers. Unexpectedly, Samara found herself with additional barter credits for her work as the newspaper editor. And Falcon earned his first barter credit as a reporter.

  Accompanied by Jade, Falcon visited Noah, the Lost Market barter keeper, at his dome where Falcon made decisions about how his barter credits should be allotted. Noah was impressed by his serious consideration for the family well-being and his long-range plans for his future. It wasn’t often an eleven-year-old, even in the valley, took time to look ahead. Falcon was also the first of his siblings to request his own barter account.

  Noah was actually taken aback but Jade serenely approved the separate account while privately wondering when the older children would think to ask for their own accounts. With amusement, she acknowledged Falcon had hidden depths she had missed until Samara pointed them out. That was the one thing about having so many children—sometimes you didn’t notice the quiet ones.

  With her extra barter credits, Samara decided that she would like to have her own
home. She, too, was looking to the future. She might not be eligible to have a bond mate or children but at twenty-six it was time for her to establish her own dome.

  She quietly went to the Cowal dome to consult with Stefan, the builder. When she left a little later, Stefan had a great deal more respect for Samara. They agreed on a three-room dome with an additional bump-out domed bath. Three skylights would provide additional light. Samara chose a soft gold for her dome color. Stefan offered to survey a site in the vicinity of the path to Broken Pine near the old Llewellyn cabin Eppie had recently taken as her own. Content with her decisions, Samara went back to her parents’ home to inform them of her plans.

  As she anticipated, it wasn’t a popular decision. Samara sighed and gently pointed out, “Mama, I’m a grown woman now. It’s time for me to have my own home.”

  “But Samara—”

  “No, Mama. I’m not sixteen now. I’m ten years older, old enough to be on my own. You can’t protect me anymore.”

  “Samara!” Tears spilled over as Rebaccah fought the panic that always seemed to ambush her when Samara was out of her sight.

  “Mama. I need to do this. Please.” Shakily, she gathered her mother close in a tight embrace. “I have to grow up sometime. You have to let me go.”

  After a time, when Rebaccah pulled away, Samara released her. “Well,” Rebaccah observed as she brushed the last of her tears away, “we need to make a list of the things you’ll need. You’ll have your promise chest but there will be other things… We’ll make a list.” She gathered up linual sheets and writing sticks. “Now then, why don’t you make us some tea while I start the list?”

  Samara heated the water while she assembled the tea things with trembling fingers. “Mama, I don’t have a promise chest,” she whispered so that Rebaccah wouldn’t hear the tears in her voice.

  “Of course you do,” Rebaccah replied absently. “The chest is in the storage dome. And the linens and things are in my cedar chest in my room. It’s a good thing that you reminded me. I’ll ask your papa to bring your chest in so that we can clean and pack it for you.”

  Samara spun around to face her mother. “Why didn’t you ever mention it before?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Samara clenched her fists at Rebaccah’s reluctant admission. “Don’t you think it hurt to watch all the girls ooh and ahh when Elizabeth and Qwenna were packing their promise chests? Knowing I didn’t deserve one? Did you ever for a moment think how much pain that gave me?” She turned her back to Rebaccah, unable to hold back the angry tears.

  With a heavy heart, Rebaccah went to wrap her arms around Samara’s waist. “No, I didn’t think of that, Sammie. I’m sorry, honey. I was trying to protect you and I hurt you worse.”

  After a moment, Samara grabbed the small kitchen drying sheet from the rack and wiped her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she muttered, “Right. Let’s get on with the list.” She damped the drying sheet with cold water, wrung it dry and plopped it over her eyes. “Now my eyes will be all red and I’ll look like I’ve been crying.”

  Her mother gasped in mock horror. “Oh, no! Quel tragedy! Someone might find out that you’ve been crying!”

  A watery giggle escaped Samara. “All right, all right. Get on with the list.”

  The two women settled down to making plans for Samara’s move. When Samara’s father came home for dinner, they were finished with the plans and had moved on to speculating whether Samara’s brother Andrew was ever going to get around to asking Sapphira Taylor if she would accept him as her bond mate. Samara thought they ought to lock them together in the village garden shed.

  Rebaccah chuckled and shook her head. “We’ll reserve that if we run out of other ideas. I can’t believe how stubborn he is.”

  “Oh, Sapphira will only wait so long. Then she’ll drag him out to the nearest bonding circle when she’s ready for him. Don’t be surprised, Mama. She ordered her pledging and bonding blankets from Tyger over two moons ago.”

  “Really?” Rebaccah’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “Does her mother know?”

  “Uh-hmm. Morgana went with her to pick yarn colors. Tyger promised he would begin the weaving this eight-day.” Samara yawned suddenly. “I’m so tired. I think I’ll go take a nap.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No. I’ll have something later. Andrew’s eating at the Llewellyn dome. You enjoy dinner with Papa.” Samara went into her room and softly closed the door. After stretching out on her bed, she stared out the window at the gathering twilight, wondering how she could spend the rest of her life alone. No one else could understand how she felt. No one could possibly know the deep trembling fear and loneliness that ambushed her in the dark. Why had Gil done this to her? Why? She searched her brain for a reason—any reason for him to think she would take him as a bond mate. Before she drew any satisfactory conclusions, she fell fast asleep.

  Samara shook her head and pushed the ugly memories away. It was hard for her to believe so much had happened so quickly. With many willing hands from the village, Stefan Cowal had completed her dome in record time. It was less than a year since the Midsummer Gathering that offered her new hope. Furnishings and household goods appeared daily until she had everything she could possibly need and then some. At last, she had a place of her own.

  * * * * *

  On a low-hanging branch of a malzhal tree in the shadowy quiet of the Far Woods, a young man waited silently for the deer to pass his perch. From the night his older brother had died atop the judgment seat, Jiph had lived a miserable existence. At last, he stuffed his few belongings in a battered pack and walked away from Bell’s Corner despite the protests of his mother who had no way of knowing why he couldn’t bear to live there anymore.

  He thought a lot about that night. In the hushed rush to save Samara’s life, the villagers had failed to notice him hiding in the bushes that lined the river. He had hunched over in the dark with his hands clasped over his face as the horror threatened to overcome him. It wasn’t how he thought the night would end when he sneaked out to follow his big brother Gil. Something had gone terribly wrong. Angrily he determined that someone would pay.

  After the villagers had all returned to their homes, Jiph had slipped from the clump of bushes, cautiously stretching stiff muscles before creeping across the bridge to the empty practice field beyond. Once he was past the dark empty training barracks, he’d found the trail to Bell’s Corner and fled toward home. Soon, someone in authority would be coming to inform his parents about Gil’s death. They must never find out that he had followed Gil.

  Jiph suppressed the shudders that spread up his spine as he recalled the dark days after Dai and Merlyn brought the news of Gil’s crime and death. His mother had cried for days until her cheeks were rough and red. His father had become a silent withdrawn shadow that drifted from his weaving shed to the small bedroom where Gil had slept. His father lived there, eating and sleeping in solitary shame, until the night he died in his sleep.

  The soft rustle of deer steps jerked Jiph out of his black memories. It was time. Unaware, his prey approached.

  Chapter Two

  Out-Valley, Appalachian Mountains

  Bishop opened his eyes to the oppressive black terror of a sealed tomb. After the first crushing seconds a low groan next to him yanked him back to reality. He wasn’t certain of what woke him but abruptly, he was wide awake. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know but something’s not right. I woke up a couple of minutes ago and I’ve been lying here, trying to figure out what’s bothering me.” Trav’s eyes flickered around their space. He sniffed carefully. “I smell roses.”

  “Roses? In December?”

  “And the air is warmer back here. I can feel a drift of warm air on my face. See if you can locate the source.

  Bishop unwrapped his blanket and found the flashlight. “If there’s a way out, we can get you some help,” he began.

  “Bish. I’m not worri
ed about getting out of here. If Dance is gone, there isn’t much left for me.” He sighed quietly. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. I think I went a little crazy for a while. Take the violin and guitar in case Dancer shows up, okay?”

  Bishop frowned down at him. “Tell you what. The instruments only go if you go. So if you want Dancer to have them, you’d better give them to him yourself. Now I’m going to find our phantom roses.”

  Bishop wondered what it would take to shake his friend out of his rock-hard composure and then he remembered the day he had stood with Trav and Dance at their parents’ and brother’s funeral. That day he knew that the murders of their parents and brother had changed them forever in fundamental ways. The anchors they counted on to keep them grounded were gone.

  Bishop straightened up and groaned. He had no way to know how much time had passed since Trav had finally traveled a little too far down the road to insanity and abducted him from his own bed in the middle of the night. Hours might have passed or even days, though he suspected that he would be a lot hungrier if it had been days. Bish rubbed his flat belly at the thought of food. That was another reason to find Dancer’s damn tunnel. Half a dozen apples and a box of granola bars wouldn’t hold them for long. Trav had been on the run for so long, he probably didn’t remember what a real meal was like. It was one of the drawbacks of trying to retire from the assassin business…your clients tended to resist the notion of an unemployed assassin. When your sole client was a Federal agency headed by Fremont Llewellyn, then not only was retirement discouraged, it wasn’t even an option.

  The reaction when Trav and his brother Dancer indicated they were ready to get out of the business of permanently eliminating the government’s enemies, wasn’t just “no”—it was an emphatic “Hell no!” Unfortunately, Trav and Dancer chose not to accept that answer. The combined price on their heads was enough to keep the bounty hunters from several countries hot on their trails, so Bishop wasn’t banking on rescue. Somebody had tracked them to the cave and sealed it shut with explosives. It was just pure dumb bad luck that Trav was standing too close to the entrance when the explosion rocked the cave.