Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (36 page)

Connor frowned. “Why would I dream of a Svek song?”

“Your destiny is written in that song. The songs come around.”

He scoffed. “A tavern song proves my destiny? You’ve lost what few wits you had. I probably heard it on one of the two trips I’ve made to Sveklant. Besides, I’ve never met a silken-covered mage—a few Tal’Amuni eunuchs, but no mages.”

Her mouth tightened. “There’s more to the song than that.

I dreamed of distant warhorn’s call,

Of steadfast lion’s pride,

Of sunset over blooded isle,

Of darkened raven sky.

But whence came vict’ry sweet and true

I dreamed of bounties wide,

Of sons who ruled the kingdoms three

And daughters by their side.

From fields where ravens feasted well

Come grasses tall and bold,

From stone-ridged mountains bright with fire

Come waters pure and cold.

Shed no tears for me, my heart,

For though my bones lie cold

My soul will feast with Syraf fair

And dance in streets of gold. ”

He thought she would begin singing it true if he didn’t stop her. “I thought you said you didn’t remember all of it.”

“There’s a lot more than that, yes. Those are just the verses the Great Mother gave me.”

“It’s a pretty dream—victory and bounty after war. I’ll have to sing it to some Svek girl when I get to Albard and see if it warms her icy blood.”

She cuffed his ear. “Stubborn boy. I should send some jasmine with the girl, yes. Or some vanilla oil. You need her. She’s got a heart of pure gold and a spine of steel.”

“I’ll consider it.”

She sighed. “A potion for listening. That’s what I need. A potion to make men listen to reason. Great wealth lies down that path, yes.”

“You’d have nothing to do if men listened to reason.” He chuckled at the smile that tempted her mouth, and he bent to kiss her. “I’ll come back to visit now that I know where you are.”

“Yes. You will.” She strode over to Mairead’s side and pushed a small package into her hands. Mairead’s face turned red, and she tried to refuse the package, but Rhiannon insisted. Mairead finally took it, embraced the older woman, and tucked the package in her saddlebag.

When they were out of earshot, Connor turned to Mairead. “What did she give you?”

“It’s a package of herbs. Nothing important.”

Did she send some kind of love potion? Crazy woman.
“For pain?”

“No.” She hesitated. “She told me to brew a cup with them every day to prevent conception.”

“Are you going to use them?”

She kept her eyes forward. “I don’t know.”

That night, he found himself staring at Mairead as they ate, memorizing the way the flames accented her face. “This is nice,” he said.

“What is?”

“Traveling again. Camping under the stars again.”
I’ve missed being alone with you.

“Rhiannon’s house was warmer.”

“I could keep you warm.”

She shook her head. She’d not eaten much, instead picking at her meal with nervous fingers. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Her voice broke on the words. She stood and went to her blanket. “Good night, Connor.”

Mairead kept her distance for the next week. They hunted and went about their old routines, but she affected a stony demeanor that kept them from the easy familiarity they’d shared before they were attacked. She refused to spar with him, instead practicing her bow and the blade forms alone, and she spent more time in prayer, hunched over with her face low to the ground and her shoulders shaking. When she returned to the fire, she always wiped her eyes and curled her knees up tight. He tried to tease her out of her mood, but his best efforts were met with only a cool, regal posture.
She’s becoming my mother,
he thought.
Only without the shouting.

One morning, they woke to thick, wet snowflakes and slate gray skies. He suggested they look for somewhere warm to spend the night. “I think this will turn to rain—it’s not cold enough for a real snowstorm yet—but a night off the ground would do us good,” he told her.

By midday, heavy skies cloaked their surroundings in a thick, continuous stream of wet snow mixed with cold rain. Mud splattered up from the sodden road, and Mairead’s teeth chattered so loudly that Connor could hear them over the horses and the rain. The dreary weather all but hid the next village from them, and Connor didn’t see it clearly until they were nearly upon it.

No gate or guards greeted them as they veered off the main road. Rather, the village gradually emerged from the muddy pastureland as a series of hovels and tumble-down animal pens of stone. A heavy peat odor mingled with the scent of pigs, chickens, and goats, and Connor buried his mouth in his elbow to cough. Unwelcome memories stirred, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
I can’t stay here. This is too much like—

“Th-there’s a t-t-tavern,” Mairead said, pointing a shaking hand toward a low-roofed building boasting the name of The Twisted Broom. “W-w-we can at least w-warm up.”

Connor shook his head. “I’m not stopping here. We’ll find some trees and set up camp.” He spurred his horse forward.

She reined in. “N-no. I need s-s-something warm.” She dismounted and led her horse toward the tavern.

He caught up to her and took her elbow. “Mairead, please. Not here.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because—”
You can’t tell her.
“I swear I’ll find another place to stop. Just not here.” Anxiety constricted his chest, and his breath quickened.

She shook her head. “We haven’t seen a tree in miles,” she said. “I—”

But she cut short her sentence with a muffled grunt and she fell against Connor’s chest. He steadied Mairead and then took the arm of the girl who’d bumped into them. “Careful—”

She recoiled and held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eyes darted to the side, and she cowered near the horses. “Help me,” she whispered. “Please.”

Connor scanned the street around them. Three men stood outside a sprawling shack, pointing and talking quietly while the anguished cries of a woman drifted from the open window behind them.

Pain twisted Connor’s stomach.
No. I won’t do this.

The Morrag cackled in his head.

He shifted his body so that Mairead and the girl were behind him. “Put a blanket around her,” Connor murmured to Mairead. “Don’t make any noise or do anything to draw attention to us.”

He saw her terse nod from the corner of his eye. “What is it?” she whispered.

“If I’m right, the girl came from that brothel over there. She’s trying to run away.”

Mairead sucked in her breath. “Is that true?”

The girl whimpered. “Oh, please, please. Don’t take me back.”

Connor’s mouth tightened.
I can’t do this,
he told the Morrag.
Not now—not with these women to guard.
“We won’t take you back,” he said. He ducked into the alley between the tavern and another hovel and turned over his horse’s reins to Mairead. “Can you find your way out of town?”

“Yes, but—”

“Go. Ride as fast as you can. I’ll go back through the village and make sure you aren’t followed.”

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm. “How will you find us?”

“Walk around the south edge of the village until you don’t hear voices anymore, then kick him into a gallop. Pick up the main road once you’re past the houses. I’ll find you with the air talent. You remember what it feels like?” She nodded. “I’ll weave the braids around you when I find you.” He put the reins in her hands, but she stared, open-mouthed. “Go, Mairead. Take her and go.”

She finally nodded and took the reins. He helped the girl mount behind Mairead. Mairead looked down at him and wound the reins around her hands. Her mouth worked as if trying to find words, but she only said, “please be careful.”

He nodded, and she clucked the horse into a walk.

Connor edged his way back to the main streets and watched the men standing outside the brothel. They pointed and talked, gesturing in several different directions, until one of them mounted a horse and started to ride south toward the main road.
Shit—he’ll find them.
Connor stepped out of the shadows and blocked him. “You looking for a girl?”

“Aye. Ye seen her?”

Connor pointed toward the north edge of the village. “Saw a woman run in that direction a few minutes ago.”

The man nodded. “I’m obliged. We’ll look for her.” His eyes narrowed, and he gestured to the horse. “Didn’t you come into town a bit ago with another horse and a woman?”

Damn it.
Connor shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”

“I know what I seen.” He dismounted and stepped closer to Connor. “Ye had a woman. Ye stopped at The Twisted Broom, aye?” The slovenly brothel owner and two other burly men stepped into the street toward them.

Connor resisted the urge to fight. The Morrag surged desperate anger through him, righteous and seething and hungry for blood.
Stay calm. Focus on the task. You can get out without spilling blood. Don’t spill blood for her.
He pulled a foot of his sword out of his scabbard and put another hand on a dagger. “I said, you’re mistaken.”
Gods, my voice croaks like hers.

The man looked down at the sword and took a step back. “Now, lad,” he said. “We don’t want a fight. We just want our girl, aye?”

“She ran north. You’d better hurry if you want to catch up with her.”

He nodded and took another step back. “Be careful, aye? Even a man traveling alone isn’t safe in these parts. Thieves everywhere.”

The words were couched in a warning tone, and Connor closed the gap between them and took the man’s tunic in one powerful fist. He pressed the end of his dagger against the man’s throat, and the man whimpered. “I’m leaving now,” Connor said in a low growl. “If I even think anyone is following me, I’ll be back to gut you. Understood?”

The man swallowed hard and twitched a nod. “Aye.”

Connor shoved him into the mud, sheathed his dagger, and mounted Mairead’s mare. He turned and galloped out of town just as the other men reached their companion. No one followed him. He slowed several times, but the road remained silent except for the steady rain.

He focused on the road ahead and wove braids of air in front of him as he nudged the palomino into a hard gallop. The braids brought back scents of mud, peat, rodents, but it took some time before the familiar odor of wet horse came back to him. He concentrated until the braids picked up Mairead’s familiar scent. Ahead, a horse ran hard with one large huddled mass on its back. He spurred his horse forward and teased Mairead’s head with the braids of air. She sat straight up and reined in.

He caught up. “You’re all right?” he asked. “Am I the first person you’ve seen?”

She nodded, her eyes wide with fright. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you later. We need to get off the road.”

They rode at a quick walk until the sun began to set. Connor paused several times to weave braids and check for pursuit, but he smelled no one.
Cowards, all of them. It’s easy to chase a terrified girl. Not so easy to pursue a warrior.

There were few options for shelter on the treeless plain, but Connor found a small ravine where they could duck out of sight. A small outcrop of rocks provided a bit of dry ground, and they found enough scrubby gorse to build a sputtering, smoky fire. Mairead and the girl dismounted, and Mairead pulled her pack off her horse. “I’ll give you my fresh traveling clothes. They aren’t much, but they’ll be better than what you’re wearing,” she said. “I’m Mairead. My companion is Connor.”

The girl ducked her eyes and flinched away from Connor. In the fading light, he saw the large welt and ragged cut on the girl’s cheek. Blood trickled from a gash in her lip, and angry red and purple blotches mottled her neck. “What happened?”

She ducked her eyes away from his. “Please, I just want to go home. I’ll do whatever you wish—just don’t hurt me. Just let me go home.”

“Where do you live?” Mairead asked.

“A day’s ride from here. My parents—” A sob caught in her throat, and she clutched at Mairead’s arm. “Oh, please, lady. Help me get home.”

Mairead put an arm around her. “Of course.”

Connor’s throat tightened when he saw the thin, short skirt and torn clothes the girl wore. He reached out to touch her cheek and take a closer look at the cut, but she cried out and shrank back from his touch. “It’s all right,” he said, holding up his hands. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. What’s your name?”