Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (27 page)

The boy nodded.

“Well, Ben. I’m just a boy, like you. Only
older.” He winked.

“You’re not like me,” the boy said. “You’re
different.”

“And different is bad?” Dayn asked.

Ben cocked his head. “I don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” Dayn said. He rose from his
stooped position. “Well, Ben, I’m happy to meet you, and you too
Seela.” Dayn looked at Nort, his eyes conveying the question that
courtesy would not allow him to speak.

“Ben’s my son,” Nort said proudly.

Dayn smiled toward Seela. “Your wife
then.”

“No. Not wife,” Nort said, but strangely
there was no hint of hesitation or shame in his voice.

For a moment Dayn felt judgment rush to his
breast. Nort had fathered a child out of wedlock? And Seela—did she
actually live with the man? If that were the case, Eyan would not
be the only person facing the clans tonight.

Dayn muttered with embarrassment. “Uncle, I’m
sorry…I mean…”

“Don’t mask your words on my account,” Nort
said. “Ben’s a child of my heart, not my blood. As for Seela, I
love her and see no sin in sharin’ my life with her, eh?”

“No, I…” At that moment Dayn realized he saw
no sin in it at all, just as he saw no sin in his own desire for
Falyn. It was only the voices of others that had invited judgment
in. He smiled and shook his head. “No. I see no sin in it.”

Nort grinned. “I thought not,” he said. “Now
then, where shall I park the wagon?”

Dayn pointed and directed him to the side of
the house. Nort and Seela would be staying near the family
residence, of course, while the rest of the guests would be
directed to a field past the barn. The field was a good distance
from the circle of stones and the bonfire that would eventually
roar within it. It would not do well for the guests to sleep on
pallets of soot, so Dayn and Eyan had planned the encampment to
insure both safety and comfort.

Nort climbed into the wagon and flicked the
reins, while Dayn led Seela and Ben toward the house. Vania rushed
through the open front door and ran across the yard toward them.
Squealing with excitement, she threw her arms around Seela.

“Goodness, I’m so happy to see ye. Ben, my
how ye’ve grown!” Vania ruffled his thick black hair. She smiled at
Seela. “And when’s the little one due?”

“Late spring,” Seela said, splaying her
fingers across her still-flat belly.

Dayn again felt judgment rear its head, but
he forced it down. Had he actually expected Nort to share his home
with the woman he loved, but not his bed? For a moment, Dayn could
not help but picture the scene, sending envy to his thoughts as
well. But then the image shifted to Falyn, and hope joined the
fray. If the clans accepted Nort’s and Seela’s arrangement, and the
conception of a child outside of wedlock, then surely they would
accept Falyn, regardless of the fact that she was not part of the
clan and that her father was now their enemy.

The conversation between Seela and Vania went
quiet as Seela drew a sharp intake of breath. All heads turned
toward the doorway of the house where Eyan was standing.

“My son, Seela,” Vania said gently. “That’s
my Eyan.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to react like
that,” Seela said, flustered. “I knew we were to meet him, but
well, it’s just, the stories I’ve heard.” Her cheeks turned
red.

“I understand, dear,” Vania said. “I’m sure
there’ll be a variety of reactions to him in the next few days, so
don’t feel bad about yours. Shall I introduce ye?”

“Aye, of course. Come, Ben,” Seela said, and
grabbed his hand in hers.

Vania led Seela and Ben to the porch, but
Dayn turned back toward the barn. He dreaded the look that would
surely come to their faces when they realized the color of Eyan’s
eyes. Dayn had seen the look in regard to his own eyes often
enough, but as hard as it had always been for him, he hated the
thought of it being directed to Eyan even more. He felt
overwhelming pity for his cousin, realizing that while Seela had
gasped at the sight of him, others in the clan would react far
worse.

At that moment Dayn decided to look after
Eyan, even if it meant going to the dance and sitting against the
wall with him. He groaned. This was surely going to be the most
miserable night of his life.

Back to ToC

Chapter 22: Circle of
Stones

T
he hill sloping
upward from the barn was dotted with wagons and the contrasting
costumes of the four visiting clans. Those dressed in blue were
from the Crests, a northwestern region that boasted mossy cliffs
and magnificent waterfalls. Shades of sienna mingled amongst them;
the Sandright clan had recently migrated to Crest territory when
the anger of the mountain had sent poison to their wells. The
Crests had welcomed the Sandrights into their fold. No doubt their
colors would one day merge as one. Those dressed in green were the
Aeries, Dayn’s clan. And those in bold plaids of red and brown were
the Basyls. Leathers and wools, tunics and trews, skirts and
vests—all forms of costume could be seen representing the clans and
the regions from which they haled. But though their clothing made a
fine show of diversity, in truth there was little to be found
amongst them. All had dark hair and eyes. And all clung to a common
fear that no one dared dispute.

Chatter rose and fell as families set up
their campsites, greeted other clan members, and scolded children
running willy-nilly between the rigs. Vania watched from the porch
rail, craning her neck to see beyond that which her abbreviated
stature would allow. But her gaze was not on the hillside or the
campsites; it was focused on the road and the line of wagons still
making their way toward them.

“What are we goin’ to do with ‘em all?” she
said, wringing her hands. “I didn’t expect so many.”

“Everything will be fine,” Morna said.
“You’ll see. There’s plenty of space for them to camp. Dayn and
Eyan set up the area just fine, didn’t you boys?”

“Of course we did,” Dayn said from the
doorway at their backs.

Eyan, peering over Dayn’s shoulder, remained
silent, but his breath quickened against Dayn’s neck as he watched
the wagon train that was
clanking
toward them.

“We’ve not near enough to feed ‘em all,”
Vania said. “What’ll we do if—”

“Now don’t you fret,” Morna said. “Goodness,
they don’t expect you to feed them the entire time. They always
bring plenty of supplies.” She laughed. “Believe me, Vania, no one
goes hungry at a Gathering.”

“I s’pose,” Vania said. “Guess I haven’t been
to enough of ‘em to know. But it just doesn’t seem natural, me not
bein' responsible for feedin’ ‘em.”

“You only have to host it, auntie,” Dayn
said, “and provide meat for the Chieftains and refreshments for the
dance. The rest of the families will add their share to the tables.
It would be rude of them to do otherwise.”

The women turned to face him. From the looks
on their faces, they had not expected an etiquette lesson, at least
not from him.

“Alicine told me,” Dayn said defensively. “I
thought I’d better know the finer details, since I’ll be looking
after Eyan.”

“What do ye mean, lookin’ after Eyan?” Vania
asked.

“I just thought someone ought to look after
Eyan, that’s all, especially since….”

Vania’s eyes misted. “Why, thank ye Dayn,”
she said, then returned her gaze to the road. “But Haskel will be
home soon. I’m sure of it.”

“Auntie?”

“Hmmm?” she said.

“If uncle doesn’t return, how are we going to
handle the introduction of Eyan to the clans and the issue of
Tearia?”

“I said he’ll be here,” she said crossly.

Dayn turned his eyes to his feet. “Sorry. I
didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Vania said, softening her tone.
“But he’ll be here.”

“Is there anything you’d like me to do in the
meantime?” Dayn asked. “All the wagons pretty much know where to go
now, and I wasn’t sure if I should stay out of sight with Eyan.
Until the plenum starts, I mean. I was thinking maybe we should
start it early, so there’ll be enough time.”

“Enough time?” Vania asked.

“To discuss everything.”

Vania glanced toward the sky. The sun was
easing toward the west. “I’ll leave the startin’ time to Haskel,”
she said.

“All right,” Dayn said, but he knew a
decision would have to be made soon. Though most of the families
were expected to arrive well before dark, it would be unwise to
delay things on account of a few stragglers. In the past, the
duration of the Plenum of Four had not been an issue. According to
his father, there sometimes wasn’t much business to discuss, so
many plenums wrapped up early. That left plenty of time for
entertainment, the primary reason most people came anyway. Dayn
knew little else about the plenums; he had never been allowed to
attend one. But this time he and Alicine would be up front and
center with news about Tearia, a topic the clans would definitely
not welcome. Then there was the issue of Eyan, his eyes another
subject sure to explode in debate. Hopefully the information about
Tearia would ease the argument in Eyan’s regard, but first Dayn had
to convince them the place existed and, of course, that demons
didn’t.

But if that wasn’t enough to keep tempers
roiling, there were still the issues of the Vestry’s discord with
the clans, the fire on the mountain, and Dayn’s recent altercation
with Lorcan at the springs. Dayn wasn’t sure how much Haskel had
told the clans when he went to notify them of the Gathering, but
based on the numbers arriving, he must have said plenty. And based
on the expressions of some of the guests, there were going to be a
lot of raw feelings.

Back to ToC

Chapter 23: The Plenum of
Four

T
he sky was
moonless, but a canopy of bright autumn stars, coupled with a
hundred or so towering pole-torches, illuminated the circle where
the plenum was about to take place. The torches, evenly dispersed
between the stones, threw flickering patterns upon the faces of
those in attendance, and dancing shadows on the landscape that
surrounded them. Most members had already taken their places within
the circle, but a few remained huddled outside the perimeter,
whispering and glancing toward the stage. They were well aware that
once their feet touched the inner circle, personal business was
required to cease.

The stage bordered the highest edge of the
interior circle. There the ground rose along the hillside and
allowed fine viewing for all in attendance. Timber planks made up
the platform that held two sections of seating. On the right, one
long bench accommodated the Chieftains who made up the Plenum of
Four. Already seated, three of the leaders waited, eyeing the crowd
with crossed arms and serious faces. On the left, two rows of
benches were arranged for the hosting family, not only to honor
them for their invitation, but to give their entreaties top
priority. Dayn was seated on the front bench, in his assigned
place. To his right sat his uncle Nort, staring trancelike over the
heads of the crowd, and to Dayn’s left sat Eyan. Eyan’s shoulders
were hunched, allowing a shock of long hair to fall over his eyes.
He sat as if frozen, with the exception of one leg that refused to
stop bouncing.

Dayn moved his gaze along the line of
Chieftains, noting their appearances and recalling their
reputations. At the far end was Brenainn, chief of the Basyl clan.
A huge, rugged-looking man, Brenainn was dressed in thick plaids of
red and brown. His long black hair tumbled down his shoulders, and
a wiry beard nested atop his barrel-shaped chest. The Basyls haled
from a remote northern region, a barbaric place known for its wild
game and even wilder lore. The men there were famous for their
hunting skills. It was said a Basyl could bring down a full-grown
boar with his bare hands, not for lack of a weapon, but for the
sheer sport of it.

Seated to the left of Brenainn was Ionhar of
the Crests. Lean, middle-aged, and dressed in tight-fitting
leathers of indigo blue, Ionhar was known as one of the finest
archers in all the lands. He was also said to be the voice of
reason when disagreements arose. Next to him sat Uaine, clan leader
of the Sandrights, the clan which had recently assimilated with the
Crests. Word was that his people had relocated because of tainted
wells, but newly emerging gossip indicated there might be more to
it.

As Dayn watched Uaine, he realized he knew
little about the man. The Chieftain had only recently inherited the
position when his older brother, Aode, the former leader, had
mysteriously vanished. Still, Uaine looked well-suited for the
role. Unlike most clans that held elections for leadership, the
Sandrights clung to the more traditional method of inheritance.
They held steadfastly to their fundamentalist ways, and Uaine’s
covered head, conservative tunic, and ankle-length coat seemed to
amplify that lifestyle. Dayn could not help but wonder how the
Crests and the Sandrights managed to get along. But they obviously
did; they were, after all, now living side by side. It was then
that he realized one of the Chieftains had not yet taken his place
on the stage—Peadar of the Aerie Clan.

Dayn turned his attention to the crowd,
searching for a sign of his own clan’s Chieftain, when he noticed a
conspicuous group of men still standing outside the circle. Their
heads were leaned in, their voices low, and they were flicking
hostile glares in his direction.

Nort nudged Dayn with an elbow. “Hot here,
ain’t it?” he muttered.

Dayn turned his eyes to his uncle, realizing
he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat. Nort’s face was streaked
with sweat, and his hands were clasped so tightly, his knuckles had
gone white.