The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (9 page)

“I am Finnadro, the Henchman of the Green Lady. My men are not far to the west of us. Go, quickly and tell them where I am. Take your baby. I will take care of this brute.”

The woman nodded. She picked up the basket with the infant. She hesitated, her wild hate-filled eyes darting to the prone Deathsworn and back to me. Just for a moment, I saw darkness flare around her, as though what the Deathsworn had done to her had left a patina of shadow splattered over her like blood. I felt a chill and wondered if I should keep her within my sight until I was sure she had not been corrupted. Before I could reconsider, she snatched up her child and scurried away through the woods.

The Deathsworn rippled into an aerial flip, somersaulted through the air and kicked the bow out of my grip. I’d never seen any man move so fast. I barely blocked his next kick to my neck.

We fought hand to hand, as both of us had been disarmed. The man in black was impossibly strong and swift. It was like wrestling a tornado. Almost as an afterthought, he lashed out threads of shadow at me, and I ducked these, knowing if one touched me, I would be doomed. He hardly needed magic, however. A sadistic grin played about his lips as we fought, for he knew he had me outmatched. He was toying with me.

What an arrogant fool I had been to try to capture him alive. I should have shot him from afar before he’d noticed me. Next time…. But I feared I would have no second chance.

He wore me down and then—so fast I could not see how he did it—hit me with a dark web of power. Pure blackness swathed my eyes, blinding me; garroted my throat, choking me; snaked around my arms and legs, tripping me.

I must have passed out.

Pain, sheer burning pain, awakened me.

My head throbbed and my leg burned. Everything was hazy and dim; I was scarcely conscious. Tied to a tree, I think. The laces on the sides of my legwals had been cut. Leather and leaves rustled, and someone loomed over me. A hideous black skull leered into my face. The Deathsworn. I could smell his foul breath.

Sharp stone touched my leg. Dug in. Peeled the skin of my thigh like an orange rind.

Agony ripped through me.

The first cut was only a taste of the pain that followed a moment later, when the Deathsworn shred my aura. There was no question of brave resistance. I screamed, open throated, terror pouring from my whole being. The Deathsworn was stripping away my light. My life.
My love for
her, my Green Lady
….

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Finnadro shuddered and blinked the memory away, but Xerpen grasped his arm and looked deeply into Finnadro’s face, full of wisdom and compassion. Finn flushed, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. He knew Xerpen, the Great One, had seen the whole thing, as a Vision.

“But you survived,” said Xerpen.

“The Deathsworn left me for dead.”

“Surprisingly careless of him.” It was an odd thing to say, said in an odd tone. However, at once, Xerpen softened the words with a gentle smile to show he was only being ironic.

“Then again,” continued Xerpen, “perhaps not so surprising since you have made the same mistake.” There was now no doubt he was annoyed. “Haven’t you, Amdra?”

“We killed him!”

“Do you really think a little cold water could stop Umbral—he who belongs to Death Herself?”

“I also feared he survived, Great One, so we searched the banks of the river all night, finding no tracks,” said Finnadro.

“There are other paths besides the obvious one. He is probably on his way here right now. We must be ready for
him.…”

Beware!
hissed the Singing Bow in Finnadro’s mind.

Finnadro leaped forward, shoving himself on top of Xerpen.

Vessia had not wanted to play the role of human-lover, but Xerpen insisted it was necessary for the time being. So she had accompanied him to the assembly of human warriors and Tavaedies, to greet the bird riders and the huntsman from the woods who arrived with them.

She tried not to roll her eyes when Xerpen bowled the huntsman over with charm. She didn’t marvel that Xerpen was able to win a new admirer, but why bother? One human was much like another. What did Xerpen see in this Finnadro that she did not?

She heard the sound just an eyeblink before she made the connection.
A whine like a mosquito.

A mosquito with a deadly bite—an arrow penetrated the feathered pavilion.

Vessia moved, but Finnadro moved first, throwing himself over Xerpen to push him down and protect him with his own body. The arrow harmlessly hit the earth where Xerpen had stood. The tail of the arrow vibrated from the impact.

The entire assembly of Orange Canyon warriors swarmed around their fallen leader, buzzing with outrage. The Great One waved them off before they could grab Finnadro.

“Idiots! He saved my life! The enemy is over there!”

Finnadro drew the Singing Bow and launched a counter assault against the archer.

“Where is he? Where is he?” dozens of warriors asked.

“On the western side!” shouted Amdra. She pointed at the shadowy figure who was using the tallest of the buildings on the other side for cover.  “Across the Bridge of One Thread!”

The Orange Canyon warriors released a useless volley of arrows. All fell into the chasm between the two summits.

Only one arrow from one bow completed the arc to the structure on the far side where the enemy crouched. The arrow did not hit, though it did force the assailant to duck behind the wall.

The Great One grabbed him. “Those are Aelfae with him—the brothers and sisters of your own Green Lady.
Do not let the dark one hurt them. They are immortal, but he has the power to Curse them. They must not chase him. A human champion must hunt and kill Death’s Champion.”

“I will do it,” Finnadro swore. “I was born to do this, Great One. If I must lose my own life to bring him down, I will destroy the Henchman of Lady Death.”

“Go, I give you leave to go across the Bridge of One Thread. Leave the Aelfae to me. I will deal with them.”

Umbral’s arrow should have hit—but it missed when a man pushed Xerpen out of harm’s way.

Muck it all, is that
Finnadro
? Will that man never stop plaguing me?

Mrigana hissed and cursed like a warrior’s drunken uncle. She had just emerged from the caves after him, and he could hear the footsteps of the other Aelfae clattering up the stones behind her.

“The Green Lady’s puppy has destroyed our last chance to stop Xerpen!” Mrigana said. “You must flee—now!”

He wanted to stay and fight, not flee. Nor was it obvious whence he
could
flee. The mountain summit, on this western side, fell away to sheer perpendicular cliffs in all directions. Even if he ran the furthest diameter he would not make it far.

Across the gulf, the crowd milled like panicked sheep. They closed around their War
Chief, protecting Xerpen from any further arrows, while archers of their own unleashed a hail of arrows. The cloud of missiles fell harmlessly into the basin between the peaks. No bow could breach the distance except Gwidan’s Singing Bow, which Lady Death had given Umbral…

…
and Finnadro’s Singing Bow. Umbral leaped and rolled, narrowly avoiding the single arrow to cross the chasm. It thwacked into the earth where Umbral had stood.

Meanwhile, the Aelfae spilled out of the hole behind him like ants from a mound. They had not seen Umbral shoot the arrow, so he hoped they would continue to support him against the humans.
The Obsidian Mask should retain its hold on their minds
…

As soon as they saw Umbral, their eyes widened in shock.

“We’ve been tricked! That’s not Xerpen!” cried Yastara.

“And the bastard has my bow!” growled Gwidan.

…
Or not
.

What had happened? Why
weren’t they fooled any longer by the Obsidian Mask?

Hest barreled into him. Umbral parried a powerful thrust of Hest’s spear. He ducked and rolled away from the next swipe. Kia flipped to a low crouch, trying to kick his feet out from under him, and Umbral leap-frogged her.

The Aelfae surrounded him to attack in unison. Mrigana was part of the circle closing in on him. He did not blame her. She had to maintain her disguise. She’d warned him her magic was weak here, and apparently that included the glamour of the Obsidian Mask. One shot, she’d warned him. He’d missed it, and now he would pay for his failure. Umbral wasn’t sure he would have been able to defeat the Aelfae even one on one. Against them all at once, he was destined to lose. As if the Aelfae weren’t bad enough, Finnadro, the crazy bastard, was crossing the high wire bridge to join the attack. The balancing act was tricky, even for the nimble hunter, because of the fierce winds that scoured the chasm, but he was already more than halfway across.

Umbral smacked Gwidan with his own bow, dodged Yastara’s spear and rolled again, coming up behind Mrigana. He grabbed her and put his obsidian dagger to her throat. Of course, it wasn’t enough to threaten a fae with a mere
throat-slitting.

“My knife carries Death’s own Curse!” he bluffed. “Back off or I will kill her!”

“He’s Deathsworn!” Mrigana whimpered. “I can smell Death on his blade!”

Her voice even quavered. She had not boasted idly; she was a splendid liar.

Hatred and helplessness flashed over the faces of the Aelfae, but they stopped their advance. He couldn’t afford to turn his back on them, so he kept Mrigana in front of him as he backed up, step by careful step. She squirmed enough to sell the act, but did not impede his progress.

The Aelfae followed him. Gwidan had recovered his bow and drawn an arrow. He took aim, waiting for the shot that would allow him to strike Umbral without hurting Mrigana. Umbral did not doubt Gwidan’s skill was adequate to the task.

Umbral maneuvered around the buildings on the windblown mountaintop, but there was still nowhere to go.

“Brilliant move—head to the far eastern edge,” said Mrigana once they were out of sight of the other Aelfae. “I will distract them while you climb down the rope.”

An arrow swiped past Umbral’s cheek. Gwidan had rounded the corner. Only Mrigana’s quick twist had shoved them both shy of the missile.

A second arrow whizzed toward him—
from the other direction
. It missed but forced Umbral to look away from Gwidan, to the second archer.

It was Finnadro. He had crossed the Bridge of One Thread. He loaded another arrow just as Gwidan did the same.

Umbral ran backwards, still yanking his “hostage” along, as far toward the rising sun as he could go until his foot tried to find purchase and felt nothing. A quick glance behind him showed that he had come to the edge of the cliff. The drop was sheer.

Rope, rope
, she’d said,
climb down the rope
, but
what
rope?

“Look away from me!” commanded Mrigana.

Just then he felt the strands of rough hemp under his foot. The rope.

Umbral shoved Mrigana away at the same time a huge clap of light blinded every one looking in their direction.

Blind. He was blind!

The unbearable light faded, but Finnadro’s vision was still impaired. All colors had washed away, leaving a blur of moving white, shining silhouettes against pitch darkness.

Finnadro kept running. He didn’t dare shoot another arrow, but he did not need details to tackle the Deathsworn. Finnadro could hear and smell everything he needed. Besides, if he admitted his weakness, the other warriors after Umbral might not let him remain in the hunt.

He knew when he reached the edge of the cliff where Umbral had disappeared. Finn sniffed dusty hemp rope. He groped a moment in the dirt until he felt it, solid and reassuring in his hands, then heaved himself over the cliff’s edge and began to climb down.

He heard Umbral climbing below him. The Deathsworn, Umbral, was moving faster, probably because he wasn’t blind.

Finnadro had no idea what else was below him besides his foe. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except stopping the Henchman of Lady Death.

Finnadro let go of the rope.

He dropped onto Umbral, tearing him down off the rope too, and they both plunged toward the abyss together.

Everything exploded into pandemonium.

First, as soon as they all emerged from the caves, the Aelfae discovered Umbral’s disguise for the first time. Second, Umbral took Mrigana hostage. Third, the Aelfae chased him around the buildings and the precipitous stone steps and pathways that crisscrossed the summit settlement.

A human warrior, dressed in green and brown, dashed swiftly across the bridge, which was no thicker than a single rope. Dindi was shocked that she recognized him—and the man after him. It was Finnadro, followed by a man adorned in chief’s honors—the Bone Whistler himself. She had never seen Xerpen in flesh and bone before, but she knew him from Visions.

Finnadro drew the Singing Bow. He had a clear shot of Umbral. Fear for him electrified her, and she wanted to shout at Finnadro:
Stop, you’re aiming the wrong way! Shoot the Bone Whistler! Shoot Xerpen!

She didn’t shout. Even if Finnadro believed her, which was unlikely—there was no way for her to stop him from releasing the arrow in time. No way for Umbral to escape.

He had already reached the edge of the cliff with nowhere left to go.

Umbral threw himself over the edge, the wisp of a breath before Finn released the arrow.

Light blinded them all, Aelfae and human. Even Xerpen threw his arms up in front of his face.

Finnadro’s arrow sailed over the cliff into empty air, hitting nothing.

Umbral was gone.

He’s not dead, I won’t believe it
, she thought. Umbral did nothing without a reason, without a plan. If he threw himself over a cliff, seemingly to his death, she had to trust he would find wings to fly.

Finnadro must have thought the same thing, because he threw himself right over the cliff after Umbral. Could he fly, too? Dindi wondered. Or had the whole world gone mad?

The Aelfae
had
wings and would have chased Umbral over the edge, but they paused to lift Mrigana from the ground where the Deathsworn had pushed her. Xerpen stepped in front of them.

“Let the human huntsman finish the villain. The man in black is the Henchman of Lady Death, and I won’t have him take away your immortality the same day I have restored it. Finnadro is the Green Lady’s Henchman. He cannot be
Cursed.”

The Aelfae buzzed around him like angry bees. “Who are you?”

“Do you not know me?”

“That’s exactly what
he
looked like,” said Hest, jerking a thumb in the direction of the cliff.

“An illusion,” said Xerpen. “Obviously.”

“How do we know
you
are the real Xerpen?”

“Don’t be fools.” A woman alighted on gossamer wings,
then folded them behind her. She was ageless, beautiful, and utterly fae.

Dindi recognized Vessia, of course. But Vessia appeared as she had in the first Vision Dindi had seen her: inhumanly cold and imperious.

“This is our friend,” Vessia told the other Aelfae. “You were all deceived by Deathsworn magic.”

“It’s worse than that,” said Mrigana. She fussed with her tangled braid, which had come loose when Umbral took her hostage. “Someone here created that blast of light to help the Deathsworn escape.”

“Exactly my thought.” Xerpen was furious. “I hoped it was not true, but this is proof again. One of our own is false! We must know who the Traitor is.”

He glared at every one of the Aelfae, at Vessia longer than any of the others.

“Seriously?” She arched her eyebrow.

“No,” he said, abashed. “No. But one of the Aelfae that I resurrected is a Traitor.”

This uncomfortable observation led to a long silence in which the Aelfae pondered who that might be, and Dindi wondered what had become of Umbral and Finnadro and if they had both died or if Umbral had escaped, or better yet, recruited Finnadro to their side.

Xerpen noticed Dindi for the first time. The unexpected and unwanted full brunt of his attention felt like ants crawling over her skin. He grabbed her chin in his fingers and forced her to look up into his handsome but cruel face.

“Who are you?”

“Dindi. Um, of Lost
Swan clan of the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe.”

The Aelfae considered Dindi in a new light. They debated rapidly: