A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Darry’s legs tightened their embrace. “Not when my feet hurt this much.”

  Jessa laughed and returned to their food. “The Mohn-Drom is the only dance that did not crush my toes.”

  Darry laughed with her. “Praise the gods.”

  “I will say, though, that never once did you, Darrius Lauranna, overstep your boundaries upon the dance floor.” She ate another piece. “Nor did Arkady or Bentley, for that manner.” Jessa stopped chewing and turned her head slightly. “Did you dance with Arkady?”

  “I did not dance with Arkady, my love,” Darry answered, and Jessa could hear the smile in her voice.

  “A wise decision.”

  Jessa could feel Darry’s face in the fullness of her hair, and then the warmth of Darry’s breath along the side of her neck. The flesh between her legs clenched in reaction. “Do not be jealous, my Princess.”

  “This very bed, Akasha, is proof of how the Mohn-Drom is meant to end.” The sudden, subtle push of the Vhaelin was in her blood and Jessa set the plate aside, sensing the panther’s presence. “I could not take it,” she confessed as she twisted about at the waist. “To see another person touch you so, I could not take it again.”

  Darry shifted them both in a quick movement and Jessa opened her legs. Their bodies came together and Jessa filled her hands with Darry’s hair. “I will not ever leave you, sweet Jess. Not ever, I promise. Do you not understand that I am only here in this life for you and you alone?”

  Jessa smoothed Darry’s brow, easing the crease her passionate emotions had caused. It was a new expression for Darry, since her encounter with Malcolm. Darry had lost something that terrible night, some essential part of her carefree spirit. That lost innocence had been replaced with a dangerous ferocity and, oftentimes, a sadness that Jessa knew would always be there. “I have only just found you again, Akasha…For the rest of our lives, I will have only just found you.”

  Darry’s hips thrust smoothly and Jessa caught her breath as her passion flared. Her nipples ached with the sweetest of pains, pressed beneath Darry’s. “Then let us make the most of it.” Darry kissed her and bit gently at Jessa’s lower lip. “And feast while we may.”

  Jessa smiled as Darry moved down her body, Darry’s lips burning a trail of intent. Darry’s fingers traced along Jessa’s swollen sex, flirting through her spirit before she parted Jessa’s legs. Jessa reacted to the delicate touch and scattered the pillows in search of the carved spindles of the headboard.

  Darry took hold of Jessa’s hips in a decisive manner and pulled her closer before she kissed her belly, slowly, tasting of her skin so thoroughly that Jessa felt the delicious echo of Darry’s lips within her legs. “The Kingdom of Lady Jessa,” Darry said softly, and Jessa could hear the smile in her voice.

  Jessa laughed in her throat and turned her face to the side, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Perhaps I should jus—” Darry kissed her sex, no longer teasing but decidedly certain of what she wanted. Jessa pulled against the headboard as she caught her breath. “Surrender.”

  * * *

  Darry walked through the throne room of Blackstone Keep, the light from the lamps above twisting in the hot breeze that washed through the chamber. The light slashed and cut across her vision and she narrowed her eyes against it. She moved with caution through the haze that floated just above the floor, a fog of warmth rolling over the worn stones.

  She was dressed for battle, her heavy homespun blacks worn beneath her armor, the layered leather vented and shifting with her as she moved. The studs and buckles on the dark brown leather would flash into the shadows and she would have to turn her head against it. She flexed her fingers upon the grip of her sword.

  “Is this better than a cell?”

  Darry crouched and spun upon her toes, only to rise up in the heat and slash with the back edge of her blade. The heat parted upon her steel and she turned smoothly, her father’s throne rising up on her left with an odd screech of sound. The ornamental leaves rattled and shook upon their branches until they broke free of their fasteners and clattered across the floor, disappearing.

  “Do you think a cock for a tongue will please her?”

  Darry whirled into the dance and the chamber filled with the unbroken sound of her sword. Her movements flowed like water, without a hitch or a stutter.

  She slid to a stop as her weapon slashed downward, held beside the length of her right leg with a final ping of sound. She fell within a stillness she recognized and tried to focus. The heat swarmed about her boots and it was hard to breathe. She could feel the sweat slide down her back as the lamp above her went out beneath the whisper of her name.

  The girl appeared from out of the mist and walked toward her. Her dress was a dark blue, a silk that shimmered and flowed until it stopped just below her knees. Thick black hair tumbled about her shoulders, blue ribbons caught in the curls.

  Darry’s heart hammered in her chest and she took a step, her sword falling lax at her side as she stood up straight and her shoulders eased. She recognized her mother’s eyes in the child’s face and a pang of sadness twisted through her heart.

  “You came back,” the girl said in a pleased voice. She lifted her hands, and the fragile, faded petals she held floated into the air upon a wave of indigo light. “These are for you.”

  Darry felt the arrow enter between her shoulders despite the armor she wore, the broad head ripping and pushing through her flesh. Her back bowed forward as the leather gave way between her breasts and the bolt tore free in a shower of blood. Her sword clattered to the stones as she slammed to her knees, tipped to the side, and fell.

  Darry stumbled from their bed and dropped to her knees in reaction to the pain. It swarmed through her body, and she pulled her chin back as it threatened to split her skull. Her fingers dug into the rug, and the darkness behind her eyelids flared with a piercing light that tumbled away from her in a shower of stars.

  The blood that fell between her hands soaked the rug. It was but a few drops at first, and then it was more, too much, and she knew it. Darry pushed to her feet and swayed as the room tipped, her blood hot as it filled her nose and slid over her lips. Her voice was strained. “Jess…”

  She stepped to the end of the bed and pulled on her trousers, concentrating as she did each of the buttons. Her hands shook, and though she willed them to stop, they did not. She coughed in a rattling manner as she stepped back with her tunic and shrugged her shoulders into it. The birds of morning had begun to sing, though the sun had yet to crest the edge of the world. It was coming, though, and she could feel it as her heart took on a new beat, a faster beat, a more powerful beat.

  She blinked and looked down as she pulled her touch along the skin of her stomach, her hand coming away rich with blood. Jessa’s presence filled her body and she could smell her lover’s flesh, the very essence and heat of her blood, as well as the sweet aroma of her sex. She turned in a stilted manner, unable to stop the release of strength that poured through her muscles.

  She had not allowed her full Cha-Diah blood to come since the Sahwello had attacked, and so she let it, understanding that it was far too late anyway. She let go and a soft moan slipped along her throat. Her muscles shuddered with a bone-deep relief that was both wondrous and terrible at the same time. “Jessa.”

  “Darry,” Jessa whispered, pulled from her sleep. Jessa blinked and took a deep breath through her nose as she stretched. The majik overwhelmed her senses in an instant, its pungent, ancient scent trampling over all else. She pushed up and twisted about, her eyes wide.

  Darry stood near the bureau across the room, barefoot and half dressed, her dagger in hand. The curved blade caught the lamplight as it stretched away from the back of her hand. Her power rolled in waves, pouring over her shoulders in a cascade of soft, golden light, flecked through with a strange blue. Blood painted her lips and chin, curving its way between her breasts and over the muscles of her stomach.

  Jessa moved with extreme caution as she pull
ed herself to the edge of the bed. She dropped her feet to the floor and pushed the covers aside with a slow, deliberate hand. “Akasha, come to me, please,” she said softly, her mind searching instantly for the proper spell. She did not possess the proper runes, however, and she knew it. She did not even know what those runes might be. Darry’s majik had overwhelmed her, and Jessa had no idea how she might stop it.

  “Don’t…” Darry’s voice was a low growl of sound from deep within her body. “Don’t be afraid, Jess.”

  Jessa smiled as she stood up and reached out, the gesture measured and gentle. “I’m not,” she lied. “My love…come to me now, all right? It will be all right.” She took a careful step.

  Darry turned, and Jessa jerked at the burst of movement, startled as Darry bolted onto the balcony, swung her legs over the railing, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Jessa ran and slid to a stop against the railing, tipping past its safety for just an instant until she grabbed it with strong hands. The courtyard below her was empty, the trees caught in the fall of moonlight and shadows both. The hedges that were trimmed so neatly and the pathway which led to the front hall were eerily still and silent, and her gaze was pulled to the gates that had been left open. That way lay the gardens and the orchard, and beyond them both, the depths of the forest.

  She pushed back and turned her right hand, her palm wet with blood from the rail.

  She took a slow step back, and then another, the air before dawn cool against her naked body. A shiver moved along her spine, and she closed her eyes, her heart sinking like a stone as a sea of regret opened wide beneath her. She could hear Radha’s voice in her head, rightfully harsh with disappointment. How could you not have looked for the runes, you foolish child!

  Chapter Four

  Darry moved through the heart of the Yellandale Forest faster than she had ever run before. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as the muscles of her legs surged with unrestrained power. The undergrowth, when caught underfoot, snapped and burst, thrown up in her wake. She glanced to her left and Hinsa kept pace farther up the rise, her sleek golden coat catching the late afternoon sun in dapples of brown that moved along her shoulders and back.

  Little one! The stag…

  Darry leaped the fallen oak smoothly and cleared the broken branches and rotting leaves with distance to spare. She looked to her right, to the ground some twenty feet below, the crumbling bluff covered with moss and scrub grass as it spilled downward in a sharp cut of rock.

  The great stag tore through the growth beneath the bluff. Branches broke and the ground shook beneath his mighty hooves, showers of dirt exploding into the air as he ran. His coat was almost black, and Darry could smell the blood from the wound upon his hindquarters. His breath, came in great pain-filled snorts as he leaped. He was losing speed and, as a result, the distance he would need to survive.

  They’re coming!

  Darry heard the howl and tightened the grip on her dagger, her hair wet with sweat as she glanced back. The heavy strands clung to her face and shoulders and held to her battered tunic. Her lungs burned with their pace, but it was good, and so the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come.

  The wolves moved like ghosts, their silver and white coats weaving among the landscape like lightning that had fallen to the ground and never stopped. They were great beasts built for the hunt, clever and certain of their prey. The wolves were many and the stag was old—Darry knew it. He wore his years atop his head in a velvet laden crown unlike any she had ever seen. He was holy, and she could feel it.

  The stag jumped, his massive rack of antlers reaching forward as he neared the wide stream. They were too heavy though and threw him off balance in his fatigue. Water splashed and he stumbled as he tried to turn, a wall of brambles and stone upon the opposite shore perhaps closer than he had gauged. He slid and fell, his legs flying to the side as his shoulder hit the ground with a great rumble of weight.

  The wolves scrambled at the near edge of the water and came together as Hinsa turned down the rise. Darry lengthened her stride, cutting to the right. The pack broke apart and rushed the stream as the stag flailed and stumbled to his legs, lifting up from the mud and grit with a bellow of defiance.

  Darry leaped from the bluff with a brutal push of muscle, Hinsa bounding beside her and soaring from the edge in a shower of rock and shale.

  Darry felt the water and the mud as she entered the stream and her legs absorbed the shock, and then she felt the heat and claws of her enemy. The guttural sounds of anger ripped through her head as she drove to the far edge of the stream with a slash of her dagger.

  The stag thundered and slammed his hooves beside her as Darry pulled her right shoulder close and turned her head with a cry of pain. She spun and splashed away as the stag speared her opponent and then heaved the wolf to the side. There was a high-pitched howl of pain amidst the breaking of bones and Darry was tangled anew in fur and the snapping of jaws. She took a blow to her right thigh and she brought her dagger underneath. The heat of blood spilled forth and the enormous weight of the wolf shifted in her arms and pulled her over.

  Hinsa’s scream echoed through her head and she called back. Pain shook through her left shoulder and down her back and she went under, trapped beneath the wolf and pushed to the bottom of the stream. She twisted and shoved with her legs as the rocks against her back rolled and shifted, allowing her to slip free.

  She stood in a rush and threw her hair back as she filled her lungs with air. She took an awkward step to the side in the waist-high cold of the water. Hinsa screamed again and moved low upon the opposite shore, attentive as the remaining wolves bolted through the brush and long grass. Darry’s right leg gave out when she took another step, and she stumbled through the water and went to her knees. The steady flow moved about her chest and she welcomed it.

  The stag stomped along the sandy edge and then pushed into the steady spill with a toss of his mighty crown. Darry reached out, her dagger still in hand as she grabbed at his heavy coat. He pushed against her, gentle in his invitation.

  * * *

  Jessa sat back in the saddle and pulled the reins. Vhaelin Star turned her head with a snort of defiance and high-stepped to the side before she obeyed. Jessa wore a homespun shirt and trousers tucked in her knee high boots, her hair tied back and out of the way. She was hot and dusty from the search, but her fear outweighed all other concerns. Bentley and Arkady Winnows rode through the trees and underbrush in the distance and she called out to them.

  Bentley heeled his mount. “We lost the blood trail. There’s no sign of her,” he said as they entered the small clearing.

  Jessa turned at the waist and peered into the forest they had yet to explore. It seemed endless, and it cut away at her hopes.

  “It’s getting dark, Jessa.” Bentley’s tone was not a happy one. “We must go back, at least to the meadow. Etienne and Tobe have set up camp.”

  “Please, my Lady,” Arkady added.

  The cedars and towering spruce trees tangled with mountain honeysuckle and fallen oaks that had crumbled into the undergrowth. Pines and spunwood trees and the heart of the Yellandale still lay before them. The far arc of the sun slashed through the leaves and slid along the high boughs, its golden light an unwelcome herald. Night would be there in but a few short hours, perhaps even sooner with the heaviness of the foliage above.

  “No.”

  “Yes, Jessa, it’s far too dangerous for—”

  Jessa yanked upon the reins and Vhaelin Star wheeled to the left and reared back. Jessa threw the witchlight into the air where it shattered and spun into a flat, circular wave of light. It expanded outward with force and flowed into the surrounding forest with a low-pitched shudder of sound. Arkady’s horse shied and bolted into the brush as the light poured over them and then rolled beyond, Arkady cursing as he fought to regain control.

  Bentley’s horse merely lowered her head into the long grass and sampled its taste.

  “
I thank you for the concern,” Jessa stated simply. “But I do not need your protection.”

  “I know that,” Bentley replied calmly as he brushed a smear of dirt from his sleeve. “But I do not let a friend ride into the unknown without being there to watch her back. Call it a habit, if you will.”

  Jessa eased back into her saddle at his words. If he were not such a man, Darrius would be dead and she knew it. “Your horse is either very old, Bentley, or the most well-trained animal I have ever seen.”

  “She’s as blind as my old nursemaid was,” Bentley said with affection.

  “I should go on alone.” Jessa’s voice was tired and scared and she could hear it. “I think it might draw her out. I think she will come to me.”

  He swung his right leg over the neck of his horse and slid to the ground. “You’re probably right,” he agreed. “Leave a trail of your”—he wiggled his fingers at her—“parlor light trickery, so we can track you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be fine, Bentley, I promise.”

  “Arkady and I will camp here and split the distance to the Lanark. The others have orders to stay put until dawn. Do you have enough water?”

  Jessa was relieved by his words, though she didn’t say it as she checked her saddlebags. “I have food and blankets, and two skins of water.”

  Bentley looked up as he neared. “Do you have a dagger?”

  “In my bag.”

  “I will make you a belt for Winter Solstice, Princess. Your dagger will do you little good if you must stop and unpack before defending yourself. The first decent stream you come to, make camp. Do not cross until tomorrow. She’ll need water at some point.” He smiled beneath his mustache. “And the stars will sparkle in the current for you, like jewels in a crown of night.”

  Jessa found herself upon the receiving end of his infamous charm, and she felt herself blush regardless of everything. She leaned over in her saddle and touched his cheek. “I like things that sparkle.”