Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (7 page)

“Perhaps you filled your reading with too much kirok history. Sveklant was one of the Western Lands once—Taura, Culidar, and Sveklant were one united kingdom before the breaking. When the Svek went to war with Taura centuries later, they sought only to reunite the kingdom.”

“The Svek destroyed northern Taura,” she answered. “The displaced northerners drained the south of food and resources. It took decades for the northern territories to recover and rebuild. Are you saying there is some kind of justification for that kind of destruction?”

“You sound like a kirok tutor,” he said. “The Svek had a prophecy that a man would arise to reunite the Western Lands. They had a king who thought he had a divine right to conquer Taura and Culidar. The kirok supported him. Didn’t your books cover that bit?”

She bristled. “The kirok can’t be responsible for one man’s prideful actions.”

“No, but it is responsible for its own response to those actions. Don’t worry, though—the Svek suffered, too. Their monarchy dissolved. There aren’t even any nobles left in Sveklant—just farmers, traders, and hunters.”

“Are there any who follow Alshada?”

“There are pockets—small kiroks, family groups, towns that worship him in ways similar to the kirok in Aliom. Some follow the old earth gods. Some say they are waiting for a champion to unite their land under a single standard once again.”

She sighed.

“Afraid you’re a little less prepared than you thought you’d be?”

Yes.
“No. It’s just a lot to think about.”

“I won’t leave you with anyone who will expect you to drink pig’s blood.”

She laughed when she saw his grin. “You have a wicked side.”

“I’ll not deny that.” He reached for his pack.

“Why take me so far away? Couldn’t you take me somewhere closer?”

He laughed. “I asked the Sidh queen that same question. I tried to convince her to let me take you to Eirya, but she wouldn’t. It seems you have to be at the edge of civilization to satisfy some obscure prophecy.” He opened his pack and offered her some hard tack and jerky. “How much do you know about the magic and the prophecies about the rightful royal line?”

She nibbled on the hard tack. “I read the First Book of the Wisdomkeepers. I know the stories about how the Syraf Namha rebelled against Alshada and caused the rending of the Western Lands. I’ve read how the Sidh were split into two groups and how the Syrafi who followed Namha were cursed to be Ferimin. And I know about the Forbidden.” She shuddered. Half Syrafi, half human, the Forbidden fed on human transgressions and devoured souls to strengthen themselves. The darker a person’s soul, the more it strengthened the Forbidden. She took the skin of water he offered and drank. “The sayana said the stories were myths and legends of a pagan people.”

Connor snorted a laugh and pointed at the scar on his chin. “I got this from one of those myths when I was escorting a train of livestock through Nar Sidhe territory. Nar Sidhe bastard attacked at night when he thought we were asleep.”

Mairead shivered. “Then it’s all true?”

“All of it.”

“Even the Forbidden?”

A haunted look passed over Connor’s face. “I don’t know.”

“But you believe the rest of it.”

His mouth tightened. “I do.” He took the waterskin from her and drank. “Do you know about the reliquary?”

“Yes. Some.”

“Some? That could mean a lot of different things.”

“I’ve read about the relics, and I overheard the sayas talk about it once.” Mairead swallowed. “Is it as powerful as legends say?”

“In the wrong hands, it can channel powerful earth magic that would trigger earthquakes, volcanoes, tidal waves, and floods. In the hands of a benevolent god, it could heal the earth and wipe evil away for eternity.” He paused. “Or at least, that’s what legends say. Queen Brenna was the last rightful queen of Taura. You are, presumably, the only living person with her blood. You are a threat to the safety of the reliquary by your existence. Unless you are the one meant to carry it. Are you?”

“I don’t think so.” She remembered what she’d read years before. During the war, the Brae Sidh, Syrafi, and tribes fought the Nar Sidhe, Ferimin, and Forbidden. When the Sidh queen died, her people saved the stone from her crown, and when the Syrafi chieftain died, his people saved his tears in a jar. Cuhail, the tribal chieftain, died during the final battle. His own blood mingled with the earth of Taura on his sword. When the sword was recovered, it was placed in a box with the queen’s stone and the Syrafi tears. The relics were rumored to be stored somewhere on Taura and protected by the Sidh. Only a human with the blood of the rightful ruling line could touch them.
Or so the stories say. This is so much to believe.
Mairead put her food aside. “You say it’s safe?”

“For now. The Sidh queen keeps it hidden, and she would rather be flayed alive than give it to anyone but the one in the prophecies. But the Sidh village is only hidden as long as there is peace—or at least political stability—on Taura. With Braedan bringing chaos to the Taurin government and the Sidh and the tribes still at odds, the protections around the Sidh village weaken every day. If the village is visible and the Sidh are unprotected, anyone can find them and try to force Queen Maeve to reveal the reliquary.”

“But someone would need me to carry it, you said. I would never do that.”

“Are you sure?”

She couldn’t answer.

“Be careful, saya. Namha is beguiling.”

She drew her knees close to her chin. “I don’t like this conversation.”

“Too real?”

“Perhaps. Tell me about you. Did you grow up with the Brae Sidh?”

“I spent much of my childhood with the Sidh, but my father lived in the town of Kiern.”

Mairead’s stomach lurched. “Did you have family there when . . . when they came?”

Connor nodded. “My sisters and my father died that day.”

“What have you done since then?”

He shrugged. “Hunted. Wandered. I’ve traveled through Culidar, through Sveklant, to Tal’Amun and the Aldorean Seas. I’ve escorted nobles or merchants who need a ready man-at-arms, and I’ve fought in a few battles.”

“Your mother is Brae Sidh?”

“Yes. My parents knew each other for many years before my father’s wife died. When my father was widowed, my parents confessed their affection for each other. I was the result.” He paused and drank from his waterskin. “What about your parents? I know one of them must have been the Taurin heir.”

She nodded. “I don’t know which one, though. My father worked as a butcher in the town of Endar. My mother worked as a seamstress, but she died of a fever when I was four. My father left me at the sayada. He never visited me. I think he must have died.”

“How do you know you’re the Taurin heir?”

“I was anointed. Sayana Muriel took me to Macha Tor when I first came to the sayada. I have this vague memory of a man in white robes walking up the other side of the tor. He took some kind of oil from a bottle and rubbed it on my forehead.” She smiled. “I remember it smelled sweet—like a flower.”

Connor leaned back against the tree. “And the sayas taught you everything about the kirok, but nothing about magic? Did it ever occur to them to ask the Sidh or the tribes or someone else for help? Or to have the kirok give you an army and help you take back your throne?”

Mairead’s spine stiffened. “The Order of Sai Atena is devoted to caring for the poor, not to building armies. Those women would never—”

He held up his hands. “Calm yourself, saya. I’m only asking. I don’t care what happens to Taura—I don’t live there, and I have no allegiance to the throne. It just seems to me that they raised a saya, not a queen. I’m curious what they thought you would do.”

She bit her lip. “I think they only wanted me to marry and have children. I doubt they expected all of this to happen.”

“And who would you have wed? Some farmer or merchant or shepherd?” He snickered. “What a fine royal bloodline that would be.”

She turned away so he wouldn’t see the heat rising in her face. “I think they had hoped to wed me to Braedan, at one point. I do remember being introduced to several noble sons. I think Muriel hoped one of them would take an interest in me and she could arrange a marriage and then tell him who I was.”

“So your whole life revolves around having the right blood and passing it on,” he said. “There was never any intention of putting you on the throne—no real intention, anyway.”

She picked at a loose thread on her breeches. “No,” she whispered. “I suppose not.”

“You have no family left on Taura?”

“The sayas were my family.” The pang of loss hit her again. Her eyes watered. “I suppose if the sayada is gone, I have no other family.” Tears spilled over accompanied by hesitant sobs. “I’m sorry. I know I should be strong—it’s my duty to be strong—but they were all I had.”

Connor’s voice softened. “You’re not betraying your duty to grieve a great loss, saya. I know what it is to lose family.” He pulled another kerchief from his pack and handed it to her.

She held the kerchief over her face.
I’m alone. I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything I knew could be wrong, and all I’m prepared to do is care for the poor and become a wife and mother.
She curled into a ball against the tree and sobbed as the storm raged overhead.

Chapter Six

In the days before the rending, human and Syrafi mated.

But their children had too much power, so Alshada banished them from the world of men.

They are the Forbidden. When they rise again, they will deliver us to our glory.

— Nar Sidhe legend

When the sun broke through the clouds, Connor reached for his boots. “We should keep going.”
The sooner I get you to Sveklant, the sooner I can be rid of this binding.

Mairead wiped puffy eyes and gave him a wan smile. She choked out a rueful laugh. “I fear I’m using all of your clean kerchiefs.”

He put the kerchief in a pocket. “They can all be washed. Feel better?”

She nodded. “It’s just hard.”

His heart softened as he realized how much he’d expected of her.
She can’t be more than twenty. Raised in a sayada, eating easy foods, only the exercise of caring for her sayas and the poor, and now, everything she had taken from her, sent with a stranger on a journey across foreign lands. It’s amazing she hasn’t been sobbing this entire time.
He looked toward the northeast.
Damn it. I wanted to go around.
But when he saw the saya’s rain-soaked clothing and pale, tear-streaked face, his resolve melted. “There’s a village up ahead where I used to know some people. If they’re still there, we can spend the night with them and get some supplies.”

She sniffed. “Are you sure? We don’t have to stop. I can keep going.”

The weariness in her voice suggested otherwise. “We need horses, anyway. May as well get them now.”

They put on their boots and packs and started walking. Other than an occasional sniffle, Mairead made little noise as they walked. He tried to slow his gait to allow her to keep up.
She’s not prepared for this journey at all.

Mairead’s pace started to slow in the afternoon, and he turned to her. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“You’re slowing down.” He sniffed the air. “There’s an apple tree just over there.”

The tree’s branches sagged with ripening fruit. Connor picked an apple and gave it to her. “It’s not much, but it will help you get to the village.”

“Thank you.” She bit into it. “Mmm . . . So crisp and sweet.”

He grinned. “Didn’t you have apples at the sayada?”

“Not this kind, and not from our own tree.”

“I’ll pick a few more for you. For later.”

Her eyes brightened. “Would you?”

He picked several apples and put them in his pack. “They’ll weigh my pack down.”

“I’ll carry them.” She held out her hand.

“No. They’ll just slow you down.”

“You picked them for me. I’ll carry them.”

He gave her his pack.

She moved the apples and smiled when she put the pack over her shoulders. “Which way?”

They approached a small village as shadows started to deepen with the setting sun. Connor stopped and stared at the rundown buildings along the main street. His chest tightened. In a tree to the side of the road, a raven croaked.

“A bad omen?” Mairead pointed at the raven.

Connor flinched. The raven cocked its head and stared at him. Three more landed to share the gnarled branch with the first. “I don’t believe in omens.” He turned to Mairead. Her hair had begun to fall out of its hasty tie, her boots and the bottom of her cloak were wet and muddy, and her eyes were still rimmed with red. “Stay close to me. I’m not sure what this place is like these days.”

“How long has it been since—”

“Eight years.” He grimaced at the tension in his voice and hoped she didn’t hear it.

They entered the village, and Connor put a hand on the small of Mairead’s back to keep her close. She tensed, but she didn’t pull away. Raucous laughter floated out of a tavern, and the streets were sodden, muddy, and strewn with garbage. Connor leaned closer to Mairead. “Keep your hood up.” She pulled her hood further over her head, hiding her face in the shadow.

The tavern door burst open ahead of them, and two men tumbled into the street. Connor put his hand on his sword, and Mairead gasped. “It’s just a bar fight. We’ll go around,” he said.

“Just a minute.” She walked to an alley at the side of the tavern and crouched in front of a sick, thin woman huddled in the shadows. The woman wore a threadbare dress, and her unclad feet were covered in the street filth.

Connor stepped after her. “Saya—”

“I said just a minute.” She opened her pack and removed the wool dress she’d worn from the sayada. She gave it to the woman. “There are shoes wrapped inside the dress. I hope they fit you.”

The woman lifted weary eyes to Mairead’s face. “Ye’d do that?”

“I have no need of these. Please take them.” She held out the dress and shoes and gave the woman the apples Connor had picked.

“Alshada bless ye, lady.”

“And you, lady.” Mairead stood and hoisted her pack on her back again. She avoided Connor’s eyes. “What were you saying?”

He put his hand on her elbow and pulled her away from the woman. She flinched, and he loosened his grip. He directed her around the fighting men and down the main street. “What was that?” he asked.

“What?”

“You gave away a dress and shoes you might need and apples I just picked for you.”

“You made it quite clear that a woolen dress and sturdy shoes weren’t appropriate travel attire. And I’m sure Alshada has planted more than one apple tree in Culidar.”

He clenched his jaw to hold back a curse. “Could you at least ask me before you do that sort of thing? What if there had been a man with her who wanted to rob us?”

She twisted her mouth in a thoughtful expression. “I’ll consider that next time.”

At the far end of the main street, a well-kept cottage surrounded by a sturdy fence stood out from the rundown village. A path of rough-hewn stones paved the way to a heavy oak door. Candles burned in the windows, and Connor smelled roasting pig.
Nice to know some things never change.
They walked to the gate, and he stopped. He put his hand on the latch and hesitated.
Will they even let me in?

Mairead waited. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He opened the latch, walked to the front door, and knocked.

Memories tumbled out of the house as a plump woman with upswept gray hair answered the door. Her face broke into a wide grin. “Connor Reid. I dinna think I’d ever see ye back this way again.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

She’s exactly the same.
“Hello, Aileen.” He returned the embrace and kissed her cheek. “We were wondering if you could put us up for the night.”

“O’ course, lad.” She put an arm around Mairead and led her into the house. “’Tis a fair long season since we’ve seen ye this way, Connor. Do ye tell me ye’ve finally married?”

He shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “No. This is Mairead. I’m just escorting her north.”

“Ach, ‘tis a shame.” She took Mairead’s cloak and pack. “Ne’er mind. There’s room enough for both o’ ye. Call me Aileen, lady. My husband, Donal, will be here for supper soon.”

Mairead offered a quick curtsy. “It’s a pleasure, Aileen. Please, call me Mairead.”

Connor pointed at the door. “I’m going out to find some supplies and horses. I’ll be back soon.”

Aileen took his pack with gentle force. “Nonsense. Ye’ll sit and eat with us first. There’ll be time for all o’ that later.”

Months of living under Aileen Mac Rae’s roof had taught Connor not to cross her, and the warmth of her welcome brought a hesitant smile. “You haven’t changed.”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “Telling me ye’ll be going out in the village. Foolish. ’Tis nearly supper. I’d not be a Mac Rae if I turned away a traveler in need.”

“I’d understand if you—”

“Ye foolish boy,” she said, her voice tinged with a soft laugh. She put a hand on his forearm. “Ye’ve always been welcome here, Connor. Always.” She squeezed his arm and let out a deep breath. “Come, dear,” she said, turning to Mairead. “Ye need a good freshening up. Let me show ye to a room. The great ogre can carry your pack.”

Mairead stood with arms folded and head tipped to one side, her eyes narrowed in confusion at the brief exchange. Connor shifted his feet. “Thank you,” Mairead said, turning to Aileen. “I am a bit wet and cold.”

“O’ course ye are. Traveling at this time of year? It must be a great need.”

She led Mairead and Connor to a quiet room appointed with a large feather mattress and a ewer and bowl on a small stand. Scented water was in the ewer, and linen towels lay in a tidy pile next to the bowl. Fresh rushes were scattered on the floor. Rough-knit woolen blankets in bright dyes covered the feather mattress, and tapestries warmed the room with rich color.

Aileen bustled around the room lighting candles. “’Tisn’t much, but ’tis warm and safe. I keep it ready for travelers. Ye never know when some poor soul will need a room.” She pointed to the door. “Connor, ye can take the room down the hall.”

“No, I’ll stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said when Mairead’s face turned red and Aileen gave him a stern look. “I’m charged with her protection, Aileen. I can’t leave.”

“She’s safe here, lad. Ye’ll sleep in the other room.”

“Aileen—”

“No, there’s naught for it. Ye’ll do as I say or ye’ll sleep in the barn.”

You’re not exactly in a position to argue about something like this with Aileen,
he reminded himself. He nodded. “I suppose the room down the hall is closer than the barn. Very well.”

Aileen nodded and turned to Mairead, who was studying one of the tapestries. “My daughter made it,” Aileen said. “She’s a weaver in the north. All o’ my children have grown and gone. ’Tis a blessing to have raised them, but they’ve all moved away. I miss them and my grandchildren.”

“I would think you would move to be closer to them, Aileen,” Mairead said.

Aileen laughed. “Nae. This is my home. ’Tis enough that they visit their old ma and da every now and then.” She wiped her hands on her skirts. “Freshen yourselves up, now. Supper’s almost ready. I’ll call ye when ’tis time.”

Connor found the room he’d shared with Aileen’s sons and washed his hands and face. When he was done, he wandered back through the small house, running his hand along familiar walls and doors as memories filled his head. He stopped at the door to her room.
Aine’s room.
He closed his eyes.
What kind of mercy is this that these people would welcome me again?
He put his hand on the latch, tempted to open the door, but he couldn’t. The memory of the anger, pain, fear, and still—
still
—love in her eyes the last time he’d seen her hovered in that corridor.
I didn’t mean to hurt you.
He leaned his forehead against the door.

The Morrag tightened his chest.
Remember.

You don’t let me forget
.
When will I stop hearing the screams of dying men? Or Aine’s sobs?

She didn’t answer.

He found Aileen putting the finishing touches on her lavish meal. Fresh bread sat on the long table, and a large haunch of pig rested on a platter, waiting to be carved. A separate platter held roasted red beets, and somewhere, Connor smelled something with pears. Fresh carrots, sliced cheese, preserved meats and jellies—Aileen had left nothing out.

She handed him a knife. “Ye look much more presentable. Carve the pig, will ye?”

He reached for a piece of bread. “Even when I’m a guest you expect me to work for my supper?”

She slapped his hand away from the bread and pointed at the roast. “Ye’ll work and be glad o’ the meal.”

He took the knife and laughed. “I can’t argue with that.”

A door closed in the back of the house. “Aileen! It’s not Faltian, woman—why’re ye cooking such a feast?”

Donal’s voice rang through the house with the same booming echo Connor remembered. Connor’s hand faltered, and he cut a much smaller slice of roast than he intended.
A girl’s mother is one thing, but her father?
He straightened and turned, preparing to run back to his room, gather his things, and leave in the dark if he had to.

Aileen called back. “We’ve company, ye great ogre. Alshada must have known they were coming when he prompted me to prepare a feast.”

Donal entered the room, ducking to avoid hitting his head. His eyes widened, but his mouth broke into a wide grin inside his full gray beard. “Connor.”

Connor swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and inclined his head. “Donal. It’s good to—”

But Donal cut off his words with a massive bear hug. “’Tis been too long, lad.”

Connor tolerated the hug, but when Donal let go of him, he clasped Donal’s arm in greeting. “It has. Thank you for taking us in tonight.”

“Seems a right fair season since we’ve seen ye. Where ye been, lad?”

“Freelancing. Spent some time in Espara. I haven’t been this way in a few years.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, the carving forgotten.
Ask before the saya shows up.
“How are you both? How is Aine?”