Marked by Stars (Songs of the Amaranthine Book 1)

by Forthright

  Glint blinked. Is this what Brings the Wind had meant, calling Waaseyaa a twinned child? He quietly asked, “A golden seed?”

  “Yes.” The boy sat up and pulled at a cord around his neck. A small pouch hung from it, securely knotted. “I have a golden seed.”

  In the stories, such seeds were the blessing of Amaranthine trees. A child born holding one was meant to plant it and tend to their twin, and in exchange, they would share the tree’s years.

  Waaseyaa’s tone wobbled. “My parents could not run when the foxes came. My aunts and uncles, my older sisters, my friends—they could not get away because they could not leave. We have always been tree-kin, and we share their roots.”

  No wonder he was rare. No wonder he had no rival. Glint tugged Waaseyaa back down, holding him gently, trying to give back a little of what he’d lost.

  “I was afraid to plant it anywhere we’ve been since then.” Waaseyaa looked away shyly. “Once I do, it will be forever. And that’s a long time to be alone.”

  Glint understood then, and he knew what it meant for him. Even if his star were to move on, he would not follow. Not if it meant leaving Waaseyaa behind. “All your years, boy,” he pledged anew. “Gladly.”

  Waaseyaa tried to keep from smiling and failed. He hid his face with both hands, only to giggle behind them. The whole pile woke to their father in a playful tussle with the boy whose happiness washed over their souls in heartening waves.

  Near midday, voices approached the den, and Glint opened his door to Brings the Wind, who was arguing in hushed tones with Gerard. Even though he’d heard every word and knew their purpose, Glint held his peace.

  “About yesterday.” Brings the Wind’s gaze sought and found Rile. “Your dog made a fine partner, and I do not see the harm in asking. What would you trade for one of them?”

  Gerard was mumbling apologies, but Glint raised a hand.

  “You’ve taken a liking to Rile?”

  The man’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t know his name. A good name. Yes, Rile.”

  Glint turned to his son and asked, “And what do you think of this man?”

  “Stubborn. Rash. Fearless.” His jaw dropped in a doggish laugh. “I like him.”

  Brings the Wind had gone very still. “Why ask your animal for his opinion?”

  “Rile is one of my Kith.” Glint inclined his head toward Gerard. “As you’ve already been told, these dogs aren’t merely intelligent. They are people.”

  “I thought it uncanny, the way he responded to my wishes during battle.” Brings the Wind strode to Rile and flung his arms wide. “I am making a bad impression on the very one I want to impress. Will you forgive me?”

  “See what I mean?” Rile was on the verge of laughter. “He’s not even afraid to admit he’s a fool.”

  Glint did appreciate honesty. And Rile’s opinion mattered more than anyone else’s on the matter. So he addressed himself to Brings the Wind. “He likes you.”

  Hope rekindled in the man’s eyes, and he reached for Rile. “You do?”

  “He certainly does, and if he wants to spend time with you, I won’t stand in his way.” Glint tried not to show how much the words cost. “Rile is an adult and free to choose. If you can make peace with him, you will gain a lifelong friend.”

  A few years passed, and Wardenclave’s foundations took shape. The encircling wall gained height and breadth, and the cleared space in the village center became a proper Song Circle. Colt Alpenglow sowed the wide meadow with fragrant grasses, and Bram helped him set saplings in a ring around its edge. Glint suspected that the original plan had been for Waaseyaa to plant his golden seed in the middle, but the boy’s twin had taken root beside his den’s door.

  The Starmark pack expanded by several litters, and Kith had become something of a commodity. Glint chose not to discuss his role as parent to the first generation of Kith, who were now spending more of their time in various households throughout Wardenclave. Only Path remained a constant in the home den.

  Children arrived in the village, some by birth, others because Gerard still searched for those touched by the power that set apart Reaver’s people. Glint agreed with Linlu that the trait was hereditary, so he took an interest in bloodlines.

  Glint was soon branded a matchmaker.

  Not entirely fair, given his pragmatic streak. As far as he was concerned, the preservation of reavers—as he’d begun to call them—was served as much by propagation as by protection.

  Time

  Waaseyaa surged through adolescence with a speed that unsettled Glint. After promising to be there for all his years, they seemed determined to slip away. His boy was a boy no longer. And his interests would soon lead him elsewhere. Not far, of course. But not here. With a pang of loneliness, Glint pulled Waaseyaa closer.

  That earned him a grunt, and a sleep-husky voice asked, “What is it?”

  “My pup has reached his attainment and will leave my den to make his own.” He injected a piteous note into his complaint. “Is my loyalty not enough?”

  A slim brown hand patted his. “You’re a good friend, Glint, but you’re not the one I’ve been courting.”

  “I cannot fault your preference for Hemet’s daughter. Only your decision to take her elsewhere. You would have been welcome here.”

  Waaseyaa snorted. “That might have proven awkward.”

  “In what sense?”

  The young man patiently pointed out, “There’s only one bed.”

  “And I have always been willing to share it.”

  One eye opened. “Are you done teasing?”

  Glint grumbled, “What kind of question is that?”

  “A futile one. You enjoy teasing me.”

  “I will do so for as long as I can, if not longer.” He rumbled his contentment. “I do not begrudge you your mate. Go to her. Be fruitful, multiply. May your progeny be many and bright.”

  “What about you?” asked Waaseyaa.

  Not this again. “Have you been talking to Path?”

  “You know I can’t hear Kith voices.”

  Glint grinned. “A mercy, I assure you.”

  Waaseyaa pressed, “Couldn’t we find you a mate? Bram and Linlu managed.”

  “That’s entirely different. They were already promised before making their journey to Wardenclave.” He mussed the young man’s hair. “Secure your own happiness, for it has become mine.”

  When Waaseyaa became a father, he had barely achieved his second decade, which was typical of the other humans in the village. Wardenclave celebrated. Their beacon had a son. The future would be bright. All was as it should be.

  A little more time passed, and Waaseyaa’s wife gave him a second and a third child—both daughters—each a dazzling addition to the reaver community. However, with the arrival of a fourth child, Glint noticed a change. Or rather, a lack of change.

  Waaseyaa remained a youth of twenty, while his wife grew worn by years of carrying and caring. People remarked, and her customary smiles grew strained. Affection faltered, and no more children were conceived. Glint tried to speak with her, but her hurt ran deep. Waaseyaa’s joy faltered, and Glint found that sadness, too, could be shared.

  In a few more years Waaseyaa was almost indistinguishable from his eldest son, and the rift became a chasm. Waaseyaa quietly moved back into Glint’s den.

  “You were raised among trees.” Glint cradled the man who was no longer young, despite appearances. “Did you know this might happen?”

  Waaseyaa nodded.

  Glint swallowed further comment. His boy stank of heartbreak and regret. What use were should-haves and could-haves?

  “I knew, but I loved her.” He nestled closer. “I thought it would be enough.”

  He loosened Waaseyaa’s hair as he used to, dragging his fingers through its length. His boy might not be growing any older, but his hair continued to grow. “Is this why you planted your seed beside my door instead of your own?”

  “It was easier to be brave knowing t
hat you would take me back.” Waaseyaa hid his face and mumbled, “Did I betray her?”

  “Have you been loyal to the one you chose?” Glint asked. Not because he needed to inquire, but because Waaseyaa needed reminding.

  “I have!”

  “You devoted yourself to her happiness and shared it?”

  “I did.” Emotions played across his face. “I still will.”

  Glint’s heart ached for the boy. “You left for her sake.”

  “Yes.” Waaseyaa’s lips trembled. “It was the only thing she wanted. The only thing left to do.”

  Over the next few days, Glint told Waaseyaa about the dogs he’d taken to his heart over the years. Because they had each taught him the everyday truths he now lived by. Simple lessons. That he was not made to be alone. That lives are all the more precious for their brevity. That words have power, be they promises, songs, or names. That heartache was true love’s twin. And that life and death and change were part of going on and on.

  “Our children,” Waaseyaa said, his smile coming more easily. “We have fine children.”

  “None finer,” Glint agreed. “Next time you take a wife, you must explain things carefully. She must know the consequences of wedding herself to tree-kin.”

  Waaseyaa looked stunned. “I have a wife, even if she doesn’t want me. And I really don’t think there can ever be a next time.”

  “Remain loyal,” Glint agreed. “But by and by, you should take a new mate. If not for yourself, then for the sake of the village. Your children outshine those of every other reaver.”

  “I … I can’t.” Eyes on the ground, he muttered, “Who would want such a husband?”

  “You might be surprised.” Glint took his chin, forcing Waaseyaa to lift his eyes. “You are strong and comely, and your children are the pride of Wardenclave. When the time comes, we’ll have Linlu begin a registry so that the names of your wives will stand alongside yours for all time. You will live to see their strength and beauty passed on to future generations.”

  Waaseyaa spoke haltingly, pleadingly. “Even Sanne?”

  Glint rumbled approvingly. “Honor her in your heart and in our history—Sanne, First of Wards.”

  Moon

  Not many years later, in the midst of a restless winter’s night, Glint paced Wardenclave’s new perimeter, which encompassed a much wider swath of territory. Much of the Denholm range had effectually disappeared, thanks to an intricate combination of sigil-based illusions—anchored by crystals, powered by reavers. But Gerard’s son and successor was a cautious man, and Glint was inherently protective of their home. Their guard never wavered.

  As he walked through heavy woodland, casually checking each ward in passing, Glint met a reaver coming in the other direction—Brings the Wind’s granddaughter astride Rile. He lifted his hand, and she reached down. Their fingertips brushed, the same shy greeting they’d exchanged since she was small.

  “How goes the night watch?” he asked.

  Summer Breeze peered back the way they’d come, her lips pursed. “There is a wolf.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. They’ll catch the scent of the Demon Dogs of Denholm and steer clear.”

  “But Rile has been restless,” she persisted. “He doesn’t like this one, and it’s getting closer.”

  “Oh?” Glint took his son’s muzzle in both hands. “That’s unusual.”

  “That’s no ordinary wolf,” said Rile. “He has a voice.”

  “You don’t like the sound him?”

  Rile hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe they are lost. Or lost someone. It worries me.”

  Glint turned his head in the direction Summer Breeze had indicated, senses straining.

  “I don’t know if it’s a word or a name,” said Rile. “But it sounds like he’s calling … Loor-ket.”

  He grunted in surprise.

  “Father?”

  Glint roughed up his son’s fur and smiled at his rider. “Don’t worry, Summer Breeze. I’ll check on the wolf and see if it intends us any mischief.”

  He walked to the crest of one of Denholm’s foothills, a hilltop meadow where they sometimes grazed their flocks and herds. The moon was new, which allowed the lesser lights to rule the long night. Half a lifetime ago, he’d walked away from his home, slowly chasing his choices across snowfields to this place. Would he need to answer for those choices now?

  Glint folded his arms over his chest and set his jaw. He would stand by them.

  Finally, a howl cut through the night. Glint hadn’t realized how high his hopes had been until they came crashing down. It wasn’t Bel. His brother hadn’t come searching.

  Why would he?

  Glint couldn’t begin to fathom who else might care enough to track a centuries-gone loner. But he filled his lungs and let loose with a shrill whistle.

  The hunter wasn’t even trying for stealth. At a crashing in the underbrush, Glint turned in time to see a wolf bound into the open, pale as moonlight, tail flagging eagerness and joy.

  Not a member of the Highwind pack.

  His mystification momentarily deepened when the wolf tumbled into transformation and kept running on legs no less roughened by fur. Those ears, that tail. In his final leap, the young male was reaching with clawed hands, but Glint didn’t even try to defend himself, only braced himself for the oncoming collision.

  The Kith-kin wasn’t going for his throat.

  Arms wrapped around his neck, and breathless laughter came with a husky chant. “Found you, found you, found you!”

  “Moon-kin!” Glint returned the fierce hug, if a bit bemusedly. “Why are you here?”

  “To find you.” Moon stepped back and grinned with fierce triumph. “I had to keep my promise.”

  The scruffy whelp was gone, replaced by a fine figure of an adult—well-muscled and bristling with confidence. Moon was more animal than most Amaranthine, but he was clearly at ease in his form.

  Startled, but glad, Glint pulled him into another embrace, welcoming him as he would a friend or packmate, ally or son. “What a chase you must have had.”

  “You have no idea.” Moon butted his head under Glint’s chin, as if he were a pup again. “I’ve been searching for a long time.”

  He stroked the young man’s hair and scratched affectionately behind canine ears. “Why would you need a loner like me?”

  “I promised Marnoo.”

  Glint shook his head. “How is your fosterling?”

  “She’s strong, and her will is stronger.” Easing from Glint’s embrace, the young wolf drew himself up to answer more formally. “I am Marnoo-vel Ambervelte’s go-between. She will have you and no other.”

  He stared blankly at Moon. Finally, he held up two hands, describing the size of the wolf cub he’d rescued so many years ago. “Your half-sister.”

  Moon lifted a hand, indicating a height close to his own. “My half-sister.”

  Glint rubbed at his forehead. Cubs did grow, and the centuries were sufficient to have brought Moon and Marnoo to adulthood. But this made no sense. “I met you once and briefly. We shared stories in a snowbank until you fell asleep, and I carried you to your people. That’s all.”

  “You made a lasting impression.”

  On a cub not even weaned? Glint was increasingly perplexed. “That was never my intent.”

  “Yet to Marnoo, you are the scent of stars, the voice of an angel, and the hope of all her somedays.” Moon searched his face, utterly serious. “Are you bonded to another? Promised?”

  “No, there is no one here. I am … well, I’m not alone.” Glint didn’t know where to begin. “My situation is complicated.”

  “Complexities are not objections.” Moon’s eyes sparkled. “Tell on!”

  Glint bluntly stated, “I have no tail.”

  “I noticed.”

  “I’m no longer a wolf.” Chin lifting, Glint announced, “I’m a dog.”

  Moon waited for several beats, then asked, “Tamed and tailless? Is that all?”


  “No. I have a clan … allies … responsibilities.”

  “A clan? Do you want to appoint a go-between as well?” His ears swiveled as a voice reached the both of them.

  “I will speak for my father.” Path strolled into the open, head high and proud. “He is Glint Starmark, First of Dogs, Friend of Beacons, Founder of Wardenclave.”

  Glint huffed at the stiff boast and gestured between them. “This is my eldest son Path. I have become a Kith-sire.”

  “I am Moon-kin Ambervelte.” He hurried to Path. “My half-sister is full-blooded like your father, and he is her choice. Would the pack accept her pursuit?”

  “Wholeheartedly.” Path touched his nose to Moon’s brow. “The stars have been singing about you. I didn’t realize the chasing moon would be a wolf.”

  The Kith-kin’s tail wagged. “Our coming was foretold?”

  Our. Glint had thought Moon was alone. He cast about with his senses.

  Moon went right on, “If I am the moon, then Marnoo is its radiance.”

  Why did those words sound familiar?

  And … someone was nearby. He could feel a close-kept presence, like a huntress on the prowl. But before he could decide what to do, Moon was standing before him, proffering a small cloth-wrapped parcel.

  Glint gasped and took it with reverent desperation. Because it smelled like his twin.

  Comb

  “A betrothal gift,” said Moon. “Prepared for Marnoo-vel by Beloor-dex Ambervelte with every blessing … and a promise.”

  Glint slowly unfolded the rippling copper cloth, which concealed a comb—a traditional courting gift—decorated with delicate clusters of stars. His brother’s own handiwork. An intensely personal gift.

  Moon spoke gently. “If you wish it, he will come to stand by your side and bear witness to your bonding.”

  “Bel would come here?”

  “He has promised it.”

  Glint’s emotions were already a mess when Moon’s and Path’s gazes swung to the same spot. A white wolf stepped into the open. She’d been a pretty cub, but Glint never would have recognized the oncoming she-wolf as that whimpering fuzz ball. Beautiful fell short. Marnoo was exquisite—fine-figured, graceful, and direct. He couldn’t look away from those astonishing copper eyes, even as she took speaking form.