Whisper and Rise (16 page)

It reminded of the home I had lost. Nights had been comfortable there. Cold evenings by the fireplace had always led to fantastic stories. Mother’s stories were the most magical, but Father told his with passion and prominence. Leila, Ethan and I had often huddled together, absorbing every word our parents shared. That was a different era, before I was rejected from the Fae, before flames took our home. To keep from dwelling in misery, I leaned forward and turned my steak over with my fingers.

“Do you mind?” asked Taya.

I flashed my spite at the woman, but noticed she was looking at my father. She stabbed her empty knife into the flames and flicked a smoking steak at him.

“Take some meat,” she told him, “if you’ll share your pipe for a while.”

Father’s surprise was obvious in his voice, but he laughed with delight. “Oh, you are a treasure,” he exclaimed. “Savor in the flavor of Aisling’s pleasures.” He started to reach the pipe over the flames, but stopped. “How about you, bandit,” he said, pointing at Darian. “Are you as daring as this woman?”

Taya snorted.

Darian shook his head. I watched him intently while trying to measure if Father’s mocking would bring out the beast I had feared. I didn’t want it to happen, but if Darian was going to lose his temper, I was grateful to have someone next to me to keep me safe.

“No, sir,” he said, using the same polite voice I remembered. “Thank you.”

Father’s laughter echoed through the cave as he handed the pipe to Taya. She was laughing too. I grinned along with them, wondering if Darian realized what had just happened; he had suddenly become their target for teasing, releasing me from the cruel woman’s insults.

Taya Zhan puffed on the pipe, surprising me with her vulgarity once more, while Father gnawed happily on his trade. I sat in silence, watching my meat warm and wishing I had been brave enough to toss mine into the flames. I was starving. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. Using a small stick, I poked my steak and dropped it onto a flat rock I had chosen for a plate. I was contemplating grabbing it like Father, when I noticed Darian’s eager face. There was another slice of deer in the fire, but I didn’t think he dared grab it; at least the look on his face told me as much.

“Would you like some meat, Darian?” I asked, nodding toward my steaming supper.

“Yes, please. I would like some.”

Not willing to part with all of my meal, I looked at Taya and wondered how I could request her blade. Before I could speak again, she swiped her arm toward my leg and sliced the meat, sending a spark from the rock I had chosen. I thanked her with a nervous nod and tossed one piece of steak over the fire at the man who had once tried to kill me. Then I tasted heaven.

It wasn’t Mother’s cooking, but after several days of longing for a warm meal, the deer from the meadow was the closest thing to bliss I could imagine. Each bite dripped savory juices and left me wishing for more. I had grown up with pork and beef and chicken. Their flavor, in comparison, seemed tame and flat to this marvelous feast. While I imagined stew made of deer meat, and all the vegetables in it, Darian offered his own sentiments.

“This is the best meat I can remember,” he said. “Thank you.”

I turned to the woman hunter and nodded my agreement. “This is a great meal. Thank you for sharing.”

Ignoring our sentiments, Taya blew a stream of wispy cloud at the fire before handing my father his pipe. “You’re right, Neal,” she said. “This is a pleasure.”

She opened the leather flap of one pouch and removed a flat white bone. Focused on her hand, she lifted her knife and cut at the bone, shaving tiny flakes toward the fire. I watched her, amazed at the precision and control of her hands. Taya had already demonstrated her ability with a bow, and now casually displayed her love of craft.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, offering another goodwill compliment to ease the rift between us. “You have great skill. What are you making?”

She answered without looking up. “Arrowheads.”

I had never heard of bone used for arrows. The hunters in Aisling always fashioned the heads from shiny black stones they collected near the river. Leila and I used to look for the stones and make wishes before tossing them downstream. “I’ve never heard of arrows made from bone,” I said to her. “Do they work as well as stone?”

Taya leapt to her feet. “The griblin’s bones are the sharpest and most valuable prize for a hunter,” she said, her eyes reflecting the flames. “Their horns are sharp enough. The bones do just the same.”

“What’s a griblin?” asked Darian, leaning toward her, despite the menacing glance Taya flashed at him. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

“They’re a myth,” said my father. He leaned back and puffed a cloud toward the roof of the cave. “They died out centuries ago, leaving legends in their place.”

Taya thrust the bone at my father. “See the myth for yourself, Neal,” she ordered. “Toss this into the flames and then tell me their stories.” She turned and lifted her shirt, revealing her stomach to all of us. Across her front and around her side, was a thick crooked scar, lighter than her dirty skin. She pointed at it with her knife. “I tracked one over these mountains, two years ago. He got my flesh and I got his bones.”

I gasped. Not anyone injured as badly would live long without proper care. Even the best of Fae healing would have been limited with such a gash.

Darian removed the andelin leaf from his arm and examined his wound. “I’m hardly injured in comparison.” He tossed the leaf into the fire and covered his arm with a fresh one.

“What’s that?” Taya lowered her shirt and replaced the knife into a sheath across her shoulder. She grabbed Darian’s arm for a closer look.

“It’s not so bad,” said Darian, straightening in an obvious effort to appear unhurt.

Taya pried away his hand and stripped the leaf, holding it up to examine. “This does nothing,” she said. She crumpled the leaf in her fist and turned to Darian. “Give yourself to witchcraft and there’s no telling what you’ll become.”

“It’s not witchcraft!” My voice echoed in angles that shattered the night around us.

Taya grabbed Darian’s arm again and squeezed, releasing an explosion of blood and white infection. His yells and screams while he tried to wriggle free smothered any doubt that she was hurting him.

“Leave him alone,” I cried, twisting away from the pain I saw. “He might have been poisoned. The andelin leaves will heal him.”

Taya ignored my plea and continued her assault on Darian, grunting as she twisted his arm, squeezing his life while he withered helplessly. She laughed with casual unconcern.

“Father, help him!”

My father leaned back and puffed another circle of smoke. He didn’t speak, and I saw the hint of a smile beneath his beard. Then it was over. Darian lay on the dirt, facing away from us and groaning. Taya mounted him, pressing him to the ground with her thighs, and leaned close.

“I can sew it closed,” she said, whispering loud enough that the rasp carried across the fire. “Do you want my healing touch?”

“No.”

Taya flashed a grin at me and rolled to sit next to the fire. Darian glared over his shoulder and snatched a leaf from near his feet, quickly covering his wound again. With another chuckle, Taya lifted her sleeve and exposed another scar. I wondered how much of her body had been exposed to such brutal pain.

“You’ll have a mark of honor, dark one,” she said, rubbing her streak of pale skin with pride. “Not many live through a poisoned arrow long enough to scar.”

While father displayed his enjoyment with laughter, I allowed the incense of the moment to burn inside me. Darian lay on the ground, groaning and sniffling while Taya sat relaxed in front of the fire, whittling another griblin bone as if she’d done the man no harm. I could never have been so cruel, yet in my village, I was the villain—I was the rejected. I was nothing like Taya. I hated her. Next to her, I felt like a child. She seemed to take pleasure knowing so.

“You’ve seen terror,” said my father to her. “I can see it in your coldness to pain.” He rolled to his side and reclined further from the heat of the flames. “Tell us, what do you know of war?”

“War is a curse on the eastern lands,” she answered. “There are those who keep fighting and those who die.” She paused as if a memory caught hold. She lowered her voice. “And there are those who chose to leave.”

“Is that why you came to Aisling?” Father’s voice carried the concern of an Elder, not the admiration he had displayed all evening. “Are you escaping?”

“I won’t stay in your valley,” said Taya, “I never have. There’s nothing here to please me.” She nodded a longing glance at my father’s pipe. “Except these hills. The hunting’s good on this mountain.”

I remembered Maeia. “Did you see horses there,” I asked, “on the mountain?”

Taya nodded. “There’s plenty to find—and to hunt. If I were staying long, I would have taken one. Horse meat is more filling than deer.”

Again, her words seemed to mock me. Many in Aisling ate the meat of horses. Father thought it was cruel, and had taught our family the same. Whenever one of our beloved creatures died, he took care to sell its flesh to passing traders, rather than risk our partaking from a neighbor unknowingly. I was grateful for his discretion; the horses were more like my family than most of the villagers.

I swallowed a gulp of spite. “A white horse?” I asked. “Did you see one with the others?”

“No,” Taya whispered her words as she turned with wide eyes. “I’ve seen them before,” she said, almost bragging. “When I was a child, we travelled to the northern mountains of snow to see them. Marvelous herds of a flowing white wave.” She looked up and smiled. It was the first smile she had exposed. When she didn’t show her teeth, it was lovely. “In the eastern lands we call them the Safi, sacred as the sun and pure as the winters surrounding them. To injure one is certain death by burning.”

“Rhiannon has a white mare,” said Father, straightening to participate in the discussion. “She’s gone missing.”

“A Safi?” Taya’s admiration changed her look in such a way that, for a moment, I forgot her vulgarities.

“Yes,” I answered, “her name is Maeia. She was a promise gift from—” I stopped talking, refusing to reveal my secrets to the woman. Even with her admiration, she was still a stranger, and a part of me feared the night with her near me.

“If she didn’t return home,” said Taya, I’m certain she’ll be on the mountain. Until the smoke clears from the valley.”

Hope. Taya had given me hope, although I didn’t think she meant to. Her words about the horses changed the mood of the cave. Moments before, I had felt frightened and despised. I had wanted to sulk and hide from the cruelty that life offered me. Instead, I talked, laughed, and mingled through the night with the faces around the fire.

We were a strange combination, a faerie removed, my angry father, the bandit and the hunter I feared would end my life as I slept. Still, I enjoyed the moments of laughter and the meat we roasted in the fire. The night was so lively that I never felt myself tire, and didn’t remember the last words I might have spoken before sleeping.

A dim light flickered at the edge of my vision. Around it, everything was black. I rolled onto my side and watched a single orange flame dance and waver, until it grabbed the wood and flared to a steady glow. I felt my cheeks tighten and realized I was smiling. It felt good to wake in a safe place. Offering a loud sigh, unafraid to disturb the others, I turned my head to look at my father.

He wasn’t there. A pile of splintered branches had taken his place. I rubbed my eyes, testing them to know if I was dreaming, and then stared again. No one slept near me. On the other side of the flames, Darian lay bundled, facing the cave wall.

“Father?” I whispered.

The wood cracked and hissed an answer. Darian and I slept alone. The log on the fire was fresh, barely touched by flame, telling me that someone was near. I glanced again at Darian. He didn’t move. I closed my eyes again and tried to remember if there was anything important from the night before. I remembered only laughing and meat.

Stretching the soreness from my legs and arms, I stood for a moment, but knelt when my head started spinning. The remaining andelin leaves lay neatly in a stack near Darian’s feet. I removed the one from his injured arm and tossed into the fire. The cave brightened for a moment before dimming again. As I replaced the leaf, I looked at his arm. Its flesh was red, not the dark violet from yesterday. I winced at the memory of Taya’s attack, only to marvel at the progress his wound had made since. The cut had sealed, not perfectly, but enough to keep infection out. It was still swollen, but looked better. I shook my head in disbelief. Taya’s definition of pain, suffering and healing had worked. Darian was going to live.

I placed the leaf back on his arm and left the fire. Around the corner, the cave was dark, but a hint of violet sifted through the distant treetops, allowing enough light to navigate. Quietly, though not silent, I creaked open the gate. The whinny of a horse sounded from the forest.

I retreated, fearing our discovery, and ignored the squeal of the iron as I leapt behind the corner. The horse was close, too close. Its heavy steps disturbed the forest floor then a tiny splash announced the slipping of a rider from his saddle. I knew horses; I knew these sounds; I didn’t need to see. Covering my mouth with my hand—to keep my breath from echoing—I peered around the corner and waited for the intruder to come.

Father ducked as he entered the cave. He didn’t need to, but I was certain he feared the closeness of the ceiling. He carried a saddle in one arm and a full burlap sack in the other. Thankful and eager, I rushed to the gate and swung it open to greet him.

“I thought you had left us,” I exclaimed, jumping at him when I was near enough. I offered him my warmth in a hug.

“I did leave,” he answered, yawning. Then he chuckled in a way that made my heart smile. “I’ve brought you something.” He pulled away from me and held out my saddle. “I know she’s not your favorite, but Gwenn will make finding Maeia a lot easier. She’s a mountain horse. Use her well.”

“Oh, Father.” I grabbed him again. “Thank you.”

“I brought more bread and cider.” He paused. “But don’t tell your mother. There’s not much left at the barn.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I told him. “I thought you were angry with me. When I told you I wasn’t coming home, I thought you’d sworn me off as your daughter.”

He laughed again. “Rhiannon, that’s impossible. We’re not savages. I wouldn’t deny my own flesh a chance at redemption.”

“You’re not angry at me?”

“I didn’t say that.” Father smiled when he answered but I saw his rigidity. “I don’t want you running from your future. If you’re not careful, you’ll end the season wandering the hills, looking for a fate that won’t accept you.”

“Like Taya?”

He nodded toward the gate. “Is she still sleeping?”

“No. It’s just Darian,” I told him. “When I woke, he and I were the only ones left.”

“Ah.” Father straightened his face and lowered his voice. “She’s a strong, independent woman.”

“You call her a woman?”

Father grinned. “She’s different—and stubborn. I don’t think the strongest ropes could hold her in one place.”

“She seemed to enjoy her fortune,” I said. I looked at my feet, noticing the stains on my sandals. With all of our adventures, the soles were starting to pull. If I had lived at home, I would have asked Mother to make me a new pair, but I wasn’t at home, and Mother wasn’t near to care for me. “Taya hates me,” I told Father, glancing up at his wrinkled eyes.

“You noticed.”

I released a disappointed sigh. Part of me was hoping that he would disagree with my words. I didn’t want to be right—not about her. I didn’t need another enemy in my life. “I was worried she would try to kill me as I slept,” I told him honestly.

“I thought the same.”

I glared back. “Why did you leave? If she had tried, there would have been no defense for me.”

Father shrugged and stepped deeper into the cave. “If Taya had wanted to kill you, daughter, I could not have stopped that woman.”

“You could have defended me.”

He kept walking. “Sometimes it’s best to let fortune stake its claim,” he said. “I won’t try to control our fates.”

I scurried to catch him before he reached the fire. “Why did you say that?” I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me. “What are you meaning?”

Father lifted his chin and smiled. Then he grabbed my waist and held me in the air. I was grateful the cave ceiling was higher there.

“There are many things that I want to happen,” he said. “I want peace, I want my home, and—” He lowered me to stare straight at my eyes. “I want my family safe.” He dropped me and dusted my waist with his rough hands. “Whatever I do to protect you won’t change your fortune. The future will still find you. I sent you away once to keep you safe from that man.” He didn’t have to nod to Darian for me to understand who he meant, but he did. “Here he is, sleeping at your fire.”

I glanced behind me. “I must do this,” I whispered to my father. “My honor is at stake.”

“I know.” Without speaking again, Father grabbed a thick branch from the woodpile and tore a long wide portion off the bottom of his tunic. He wrapped it tight around one end of the branch and dipped it into the heat. With his torch in hand, he stepped toward the shadows and deeper into the cave. After disappearing, he called back to me. “Are you coming?” His voice echoed its distance.”

I stood in place, irritated at my father’s casual acceptance. Somehow a scolding seemed like it would make me feel better. Everything I was doing was wrong, but nothing about it
felt
wrong. I had left home with no place to live and had helped the bandit escape. That bandit was responsible for my fiancé’s death. He had ruined my life.
Why was I helping him?

I watched Darian as he sighed in his continued slumber, and formed a sly smile. I knew what he needed. His mention of the emerald had been a flaw in his plan, although he didn’t know it. Darian needed me—and I needed him. I wasn’t going to let him escape until I had the one thing that would make this nightmare end. The Fae scrolls. I left him and ran toward my father.

“It’s a solid plan,” said Father, before I reached him. He must have heard me coming; I had made no effort to be discreet.

“What plan?” I asked, reaching the welcoming light of his torch.

He stopped to examine some of the roots exposed from the cave wall. Then he turned to face me, his face eerily shadowed by the light of the torch above him. “Staying in this cave.” He motioned to the walls. “There’s water here, seeping through the mountain.” He waved to the darkness. “Stash some supplies deep inside and you could stay as long as wish. What other secrets do you know of this place?”

“I found Sean’s armor here,” I told him. “Don’t you remember?”

Father waved the torch ahead and kept walking. “That’s even better.”

“For what?”

Father was moving fast, so I was almost running to keep up with his steady steps. The further he walked, the more irritated I became.

“Everything is rotten and rusted. There’s nothing in here I can use.”

Father stopped when he reached a deep hole in the ground. He knelt and lowered the torch into the abyss. “Is this where Nia fell? I remember that story.”

“Yes, sir.”

He continued staring at the void and stood with a groan. “This place is a treasure,” he said. “In here, you would have the advantage.”

“Against what?” I shook my head, confused. His words were irritating.

My father looked at me in a way I had never seen before. While the flame reflected in his eyes, I saw the fear he must have been carefully hiding before. “In here,” he said, “you’re safe against war.”

“Father?”

My father knelt again and motioned to me to join him low. “There’s trouble,” he said, and it’s more than just fires and kidnapping. You fear the men of Morgan, just as I do. You suspect that men in Aisling are involved. I must agree.” Father leaned close to my face. “Listen to me, Rhiannon. If Aisling turns to war, promise me you’ll come here. I’ll send your mother and Leila after you. Here, you’ll be safe. If men come after you, hide as long as you dare and then leave when you can.”

“Why is there going to be a war?” I asked. “What’s happened?”

Father shook his head and wiped one eye with his sleeve. “Everything around us is changing so fast, I can’t keep up. Many in our village lost their homes to the fire. We tried to hold council with Morgan, and their Elders left us with threats. They blame us for the problems. No one has answers and people are scared. Then yesterday, Ethan returned without you and told us of your kidnapping. Why would these things happen?”

“Perhaps it is because of me,” I answered. “Our fate is changing because I took the scrolls.”

I needed to be honest. Father had hinted that I was the cause of the trouble since I had revealed to my family that I took the scrolls to save Sean. Since that day, I had become his child of neglect. To him, I gave value as a worker, nothing more. I knew it and he never stopped telling me, though he never said the words aloud.

“Damn the scrolls!” Father’s voice shook the walls as his hands smothered my shoulders. “It’s a fool’s quest to try to find them now. They’ve been sold, or traded, or hidden deep. Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? Forget about them!”

I cried. I don’t know how long I sat in my father’s arms, but it wasn’t long enough. I had run away from my life only to find out that what I left was no longer the same. I had been stupid to chase after Maeia.

As we weaved through the darkness, back to our fire, Father pointed out hiding places in cracks in the rocks. He took care to note that wood could be kept dry here, or water replenished there. I tried to remember his words but the terror of his words about Aisling cleared my mind of any thought but sorrow. When we reached the fire, Darian had risen and was examining his arm.

“There you are,” he said, smiling. “I heard your voices, but was weak. I needed the rest.”

“Come with me, bandit.” My father ordered Darian with a tone that threatened further injury if he didn’t. “Rhiannon, stay here. I’ll have words if you follow us.”

I did as he told me; still frightened from his tone in the cave and shocked at the manner he led the limping Darian away. I shouldn’t have thought he could do it, but I wondered if Father intended to murder the man.

The cave was dark again against the contrast of dawn outside. I tried humming to keep from imagining what might be happening between Father and Darian, but my music made the air feel hollow. I liked the cave, but felt lonely. It was going to be hard living here for a while, I decided. I sat near the fire and tried not to think about what fortune awaited me.

I needed a plan. I wasn’t good at planning and, most of the time, my intentions turned into some sort of disaster; the day was proof of that. Still, I needed things. I needed to find Maeia, I needed to find the scrolls, and I needed to stay hidden from everyone in Aisling.

I smiled and stretched, a bit surprised to be feeling pleased even though the moment was horribly against everything I had ever dreamt. Every thought of Aisling brought the smile back. I didn’t miss it—no, I was happy to be free from the village. I wasn’t bound by the traditions that stole my rights as a faerie simply from my efforts to save the man I loved. Those people who mocked me at the Sun Season Celebration—I saw their faces in my mind—would be happy to hear of my kidnapping. After all, I had disgraced everything pure about what the village was.

If I only had the scrolls, I could prove that I was more than they could become. I had been a faerie once, which meant something. Even Leila insisted on my advice before the celebration. I wasn’t an outcast from the faith; I was an outsider to Aisling. I grinned again. This cave was where I belonged.

Sitting in contemplation, I heard two sets of footsteps enter the cave. Voices accompanied them, laughing voices. The gate creaked, and then Father and Darian joined me at the fire.

“Did you think I’d kill him?” asked Father, flashing a smile at Darian.

I gasped at his open threat. “No,” I lied. I swallowed my surprise. “I wondered what you two could talk about,” I said. Gathering courage, I turned to face my father. “Except threats and promises to leave me.”