Wild Blood (Book 7) (15 page)

“Thank you.” She was surprised and gratified by the effort; it was a kindly thought on Cyril’s part. But of course her brother wouldn’t come out of the forest, even if he was still there to hear Cyril calling, after he’d seen Cyril dragging her away.

“I’d like to have met your brother.” Cyril chuckled.

“However much trouble we’re both in now because of trying to find him.”

Ria closed her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

Cyril put the bowl down and reached over to wipe the tear away gently.

“You know, I wish Mother and Father had just left us to ourselves,” he said with a sigh. “If we’d had the chance to choose, we might’ve decided we
wanted
to marry each other without all this fuss.”

Ria half-smiled. She doubted it—she wasn’t much interested in marrying
anybody,
much less Cyril—but anything was possible.

“You know,” Cyril said slowly, “betrothal or no, I don’t think they can marry us if we
both
refuse, can they?”

Ria rolled her head over to look at him warily. Cyril met her eyes directly.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“What I mean,” Cyril said, a faint twinkle returning to his eyes, “is, let’s make believe we never were betrothed at all.” He took Ria’s hand. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, Cyril—” Ria began disgustedly.

“No, don’t answer me right now.” Cyril patted her hand. “Think of it as a kind of bargain if you want. Just listen for a moment. If you decide to marry me, I won’t try to make you be someone you’re not. I won’t make you wear fancy gowns and sit in boring council meetings—unless you decide to do it yourself. I will need an heir, though.” He grinned ruefully. “But that can wait a while, too. And if you can get any of the elves to welcome you, you can go see them whenever you want.” He patted her hand again, and now Ria could see a strange expression, maybe envy, in his eyes. “Just as long as you come back. Who knows, maybe that’s what we need to bring the elves and humans together, a kind of go-between.”

Ria didn’t know what to say. She bit her lip, feeling new tears welling up in her eyes.

“And if you decide you still don’t want to marry me, I’ll refuse, too, no matter how much trouble it makes for both of us,” Cyril said, straightening resolutely. “But give it some thought, a few days, maybe. And if you need to try to talk to the elves again before you decide, I’ll help you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ria said, too stunned and confused to say anything else.

“For a few days, you probably won’t have much else to do,” Cyril said, grinning again. “But in the meantime, try to finish this potion. It might make you sleep for a while, at least.”

“All right.” Ria let Cyril give her the potion as he had the broth, sip by sip, and then some deliciously cold water to ease her parched throat. When Cyril started to take the cup away, however, Ria managed to squeeze his fingers a little and smile at him.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re a good friend. And a good foster brother.”

“I’d make a good husband, too,” Cyril said, his eyes twinkling. “Sleep well.”

The potion was already making Ria drowsy, but she was able to watch Cyril leave. She hadn’t expected such generosity from him, or that he would come up with so remarkable a suggestion. Both of them refuse, indeed! Would Cyril really take such an unthinkable stand against his parents—against everything he’d been raised to believe was his duty—or was it just a ploy to get her to agree to marry him? And would Lord Sharl and Lady Rivkah listen if he did defy them? Following that thought came a somewhat amusing vision of them both before the priest, bound in chains and gagged.

Ria chuckled weakly, letting the potion carry her away on a wave of sleep. How delightful that after she had known him for sixteen years, Cyril could still surprise her. He’d make Allanmere a fine High Lord, except that he could never look a proper noble with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and he looked so ridiculous in finery...

The room had faded from around her, and once again her brother’s face was before her. His dark eyes were fixed on hers, and his lips moved as if he was speaking, but Ria could hear no words. Slowly his face faded, too, as if growing more distant, but somehow Ria could still feel him, some faint knowledge of his presence. Ria smiled and slept.

Chapter Six—Valann

“Little fool!” Valann gasped, ducking behind a tree with Lahti. “What could she have been thinking?”

“You are certain it was her?” Lahti was panting too, her brown hair limp and stringy with grime and sweat, her eyes darkly ringed with exhaustion. She nocked another arrow, peered around the tree, and loosed the arrow. A cry testified to the accuracy of her shot.

“Have the arrows stopped burning?” Val asked anxiously.

“Almost.” Lahti turned, and he saw the worry in her eyes, too. “You shouldn’t have done that, even for your sister. You shouldn’t have shot fire at the forest. It’s forbidden to put fire to living wood and outside a fire pit.”

“I knew they’d stop to put it out, giving her time enough to get away,” Val said grimly. He pulled Lahti to the next clump of trees. “There’s been enough rain. It wouldn’t have burned long in any wise.”

“It’ll burn long in the memory of the Blue-eyes,” Lahti said, troubled. “It will redouble their hostility.”

“We’re almost at their border,” he assured her. “Only a short distance and we’ll cross into Hawk’s Eye’s lands.”

“And what then?” Lahti asked anxiously. “What if they’ve heard the disturbance and—Valann! Above!”

Val leaped aside just in time to avoid the Blue-eyes who dropped like a ripe fruit from the tree, barely drawing his knife quickly enough to parry the blindingly fast attack. Val squinted through the darkness at his opponent, and his heart sank as he saw the tall, beaded coil of a braid at the top of his opponent’s head—this was a matriarch, a woman of great age and doubtless great experience with her dagger. He was stronger than most elves he knew, and his reach was very good because of his height, but his opponent was much faster, and he could never hope to match her centuries-honed skill.

The Blue-eyes woman darted in, and Val hurriedly retreated with a burning line of blood flowing down his forearm. He ducked behind a tree, hoping to dodge the Blue-eyes woman long enough for Lahti to—

The Blue-eyes woman grunted and fell with no grace at all. Lahti gazed down at her dispassionately, then tossed aside the branch with which she had clubbed the older woman.

“Hurry,” she said. “Before others come.”

They ran with almost reckless speed through the darkness, Val letting Lahti, with her superior night vision, lead the way. Fortunately it was not long before he saw the stones marked with glowing runes that indicated the boundary between Blue-eyes and Hawk’s Eye’s lands. For a moment Val thought fearfully that the Blue-eyes might have set up an ambush at the boundary; then they were across, and safe.

“Stop,” Lahti said as soon as they were well beyond arrow range. “Let me tend your arm in case the knife was poisoned. I can’t carry you back to Inner Heart if you’re weakened.”

The scratch was deeper than Val had thought, but after sniffing the wound and tasting his blood, Lahti announced with relief that it was not poisoned. She bound up the cut with a poultice of hastily gathered herbs to keep it from festering, but did not waste what strength she had left on healing the cut. They still needed to get far enough away that if any Hawk’s Eye patrol had been alerted by the noise, they would not stumble across Val and Lahti.

“Stop,” Lahti said again, this time a note of desperation in her voice. She sniffed the air, her ears twitching as they strained to sort through the forest’s night sounds. “Can you smell it? Can you feel it?”

Val sniffed the night breeze, opened all his senses, inner and outer, as he had been taught. Yes. Eyes watched, ears listened from somewhere nearby—was it those bushes, that tree? Had they fled from the wolf and into the bear’s den?

“Are you cowards to hide like a snake in its burrow, then strike us down from afar with arrows and spears?” Val called defiantly. He felt Lahti move slowly beside him, turning so the green band at her arm was more visible. Surely they could smell the scent on her despite the sweat and grime they’d both accumulated. “Come down and fight knife to knife with me if you must fight.”

“Name yourself and your clan.” The hissed voice came from a nearby thicket, but look as he might, Val could see no one there.

“I am Valann, son-by-love of Rowan, Eldest of Inner Heart,” Val said. “With me is my mate Lahti, daughter of Kella of the Moon Lakes.”

“She is no Moon Lake,” a female challenged. “She has the height of a Redoak. And you look no elf at all.”

“Inner Heart, Moon Lake, Owl Clan, and Redoak all danced in my mother’s High Circle,” Lahti said evenly. “And Valann’s mother by blood was Chyrie of the Wilding Clan, she who saved your lives and your lands by raising the forest against your enemies. We mean no harm to Hawk’s Eye and wish only permission to pass safely from these lands.”

A male elf stepped from the thicket, bow in hand and arrow nocked and ready.

“That is for our Eldest to decide,” he said. “You will come with us to see him.” Other elves stepped from bushes, or jumped down from the trees.

Val glanced at Lahti, who nodded.

“We have no choice,” she said.

The elf who had spoken lowered his bow. Val was not too distracted by relief to notice with some envy the Hawk’s Eye warriors’ unusual and rather elegant appearance—they were middling in height, neither as tall as the Inner Hearts nor as short as the Moon Lakes. Their skin was almost as dark as the Inner Hearts’, and their hair was black, although with occasional odd streaks of a brilliant gold-red shade, and their eyes were almost the same tawny gold as Val remembered Chyrie’s to be. As if to accentuate their exotic appearance, or perhaps for its practical value in night patrols, the Hawk’s Eye warriors wore leathers stained almost true black, with hoods they could raise to cover the fiery streaks in their hair. With those hoods raised, the warriors would be near invisible in the darkness.

The warrior stepped forward and surveyed Val, then Lahti, with those odd eyes. At last he nodded briefly.

“So long as you cooperate and do not attempt to escape, you will be treated as honored guests, and need fear no harm,” he said. “I am Twilight. It would be a long walk to our village, and you appear exhausted. Spark will summon deer to bear us back to the Eldest. Rest for now.”

Lahti all but sagged to the ground; Val sat down wearily beside her. Lahti said nothing, only leaned quietly against Val’s shoulder, clasping his hand. Val held her close and waited. They were alive, at least, and the Hawk’s Eyes offered them no immediate harm. And no matter what they did with him, they’d never harm Lahti, not while she wore the green band of fertility. That was enough hope to sustain him for now.

Twilight squatted down beside them, holding out his wineskin and a leaf-wrapped parcel.

“We have a little cold roast squirrel from our meal, and roasted nuts,” he said. “You may have it A ripened woman must maintain her strength.” His voice was tinged with disapproval, and Val knew he was being courteous not to vent his anger that a ripe female had been brought into such a dangerous situation in the first place.

“I thank you for your kindness,” Val said quietly. He took the wineskin and the parcel and handed them to Lahti. Lahti accepted them, giving Valann a troubled glance, and Val knew, too, that for the first time their ploy with the green band and the scent troubled her. Fertility and reproduction were sacred to the Mother Forest; what offense might they be committing by their pretense? They’d meant the disguise only as long-distance protection, never anticipating they would have to deal closely with other elves.

There was nothing to do for it now, though, but continue the lie. Lahti ate the squirrel and the nuts—true to Twilight’s word, there was only a little—but shared the wine with Val. By the time they were finished, Spark, whoever he or she was, had apparently summoned the deer, for Twilight immediately led them to the waiting animals. Judging from the strong resemblance between the young female elf awaiting them there and their guide, Val surmised that Spark was Twilight’s younger sister, but there was no telling; many clans, especially the very small ones, had such resemblances throughout the clan.

Despite their politeness, it was apparent that the Hawk’s Eyes still considered Val and Lahti prisoners; Twilight rode with Lahti, and while Valann was too large to share a deer, Spark rode very close beside him. It hardly mattered, however; Val knew that even should he and Lahti have inclination and opportunity to flee on their deer, Spark was apparently a beast-speaker and they were not; the deer would answer to her and return, or simply throw their riders and abandon them. And, Valann would admit, he and Lahti were simply far too exhausted to even attempt an escape.

It might have been a long walk to the Hawk’s Eye village, but mounted on the deer it was a short enough ride. Val was surprised to see how tiny the Hawk’s Eye village was—hardly more than a dozen huts grouped around a single fire pit, and nothing nearly as large as Rowan’s speaking hut, either. But then, he reminded himself, probably many clans were no larger than this; the only village he had ever known was Inner Heart, likely the largest village in the forest. At least the Hawk’s Eyes he’d seen seemed fit and well fed, not scruffy and half-starved like the Swiftfoots.

What seemed to be the entire Hawk’s Eye clan approached to greet them, not thronging joyfully around Val and Lahti, calling out and reaching to touch them as his own people might have done, but gathering silently, not murmuring even to each other, only staring wide-eyed at the visitors, neither welcome nor hostility apparent in their expressions.

Twilight slid from his deer and helped Lahti down, then nodded reassuringly to them and disappeared into one of the huts. He reemerged a few moments later.

“Our Eldest, Silence, will see you,” Twilight said, the faintest note of surprise in his voice. “Spark and I will witness to your honorable behavior and our assurances of fair treatment to you.”

“We thank you,” Val said, for lack of anything else to say. Obviously these Hawk’s Eyes were a formal sort of clan, far more bound by ritual than the boisterous Inner Hearts. Rowan would have been there to meet any prisoner brought in by a patrol, not sitting in a hut and waiting for prisoners to be brought before her. Hurriedly Val slid the curled boar’s-tusk bracelet from his wrist, nodding approvingly as Lahti lifted her horn bead necklace over her head. He handed her the bracelet.

Spark held aside the leather flap covering the opening to the Eldest’s hut; Val had to stoop slightly to fit comfortably through the lower doorway. The hut inside was lit dimly by a fire burned down to embers.

Sitting on the opposite side of the fire was an elf whose very appearance made Valann stop where he was, so that Lahti nearly collided with his back. Rowan was the most ancient elf Val had ever seen, but this creature must have been old while Rowan’s mother was still a child. His limbs were stick-thin and twisted with age; one leg ended in a stump midway down to the knee, and his fingers were so stiffly gnarled that they curled at the ends of his wrists like claws. His eyes were white and blind, his long coiled braid was equally white, and his pale face was deeply seamed and wrinkled. Still there was something about him that seemed alive, alive, alive—Valann shivered as he remembered the expression he had seen in Chyrie’s eyes. Yes, this creature, like his mother, lived very near indeed to the Mother Forest.

“Enter, young ones, and sit,” the ancient one said, his voice a mere whisper. “Partake of the warmth of my fire, the nourishment of my food, and be welcomed as one of my children.”

Valann and Lahti exchanged glances. Val had heard the traditional greeting of food and fire a thousand times in his life, but never spoken in such words. Was this perhaps a much more ancient form?

“We are honored to share your food and fire, Grandfather,” Lahti said hesitantly. “May joy and friendship be our contribution. We are—”

“Lahti, daughter of Kella of Moon Lake, and Valann, who names himself son-by-love of Rowan, Eldest of that Inner Heart,” Silence whispered, barely nodding. “But no matter at what breast he suckled in his infancy, his blood-mother’s name is greater still. At the heart of the world is the beating of her heart. She too listens to the many voices. You are welcome here in her name, whatever mixture of seed made you what you are.”

Again Valann felt a chill sweep through him, and he was glad to sit down on the thick furs that cushioned the earthen floor of the hut. Silence lifted a hand, and Spark entered the hut, Twilight beside her carrying a bowl and a cup. Twilight handed both to Lahti; to Valann’s surprise, the bowl contained only a few roasted nuts and the cup only a few sips of wine.

Lahti glanced confusedly at Valann, but she picked up one of the nuts and ate it, sipping a little wine from the cup before passing it to Valann. Val, who had not had the benefit even of the bit of food that had been given to Lahti earlier, finished the scant repast, embarrassed when his stomach impolitely growled its discontent.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Lahti murmured. She extended the necklace and bracelet she’d been holding. “We bring these gifts for the Eldest of the Hawk’s Eyes, in thanks for the honor of our welcome.” Then she glanced helplessly at Valann. Silence could neither see the gifts nor reach out to accept them. At last, she awkwardly laid them at his feet.

The seamed old face creased with a smile.

“We must observe the appropriate rituals, of course,” Silence whispered. “You have shared my food and fire. You are one with Hawk’s Eye. My people will give you a hut to rest yourself, and water to wash your bodies, and food and drink to still the growling beast I hear.” Valann flushed miserably. “Tomorrow when you wake, return to Inner Heart. We will give you trail food for the journey and gifts for your Eldest. Say to Rowan, Eldest of Inner Heart, that Hawk’s Eye is of one blood with Inner Heart. Her people shall have safe passage through our lands, and those who walk in friendship with them shall come to no harm at our hand.”

“Grandfather—” Valann began, but Silence raised a clawed hand again, and Val fell silent.