A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (16 page)

During all the years I had cared for him, I never saw his eyes sparkle quite so bright.

He paused at the edge of the council circle. “Vaughn, have Wishövi escort your clansmen to the stables. Sikya’s offer is most generous. Pick your mounts. You remember where the supplies are located. Help yourself to our stores. Take whatever your journey requires. We will meet once those tasks are completed.” He shambled out of sight with Pascale. “Mana, bring Brother Canis.”

“Yes, Old Father.” On impulse, I scratched behind Brynmor’s ear. “You heard the male.”

Brynmor’s hind leg jumped, and I laughed. Nose stuck up in the air, he pranced up the stairs.

“Wait.” Vaughn jogged over to me. “I must speak with you before I leave.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.” I linked my fingers. “And Sikya would demand a chaperone.”

My estimation was generous. From the corner of my eye, I noted the black pulse of her aura as old wounds made her emotions roil. No. I doubted she’d grant me any more time with Vaughn than Old Father had promised. I was learning now how close an eye my guardian had kept on me during those miserable years after my parents died. Being her young ward had been hard, but this I knew. She loved me in parts equal to her hatred of Vaughn. Better for us all that he leave, soon.

His fingers brushed my cheek. “She can hear what I have to say.”

My pulse hammered in my veins. I came close to leaning in, taking the kiss I craved.

A sharp bark cleared my head. Brynmor whined at the top of the stairs.

“Old Father is waiting for us.” I spun, tossing over my shoulder, “We can talk, later.”

Vaughn’s finger slid down my spine as I walked away from him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I didn’t doubt for a moment he would.

Chapter Ten

Sweet tobacco hung thick in the air inside the prayer den. The round hut boasted inset floors reminiscent of the council circle, a nod to the sun god, Tawa, whom we worshipped, as well as his wife, the goddess, Kokyangwuti. Her symbols were carved into the walls and dug into the stairs.

Old Father folded himself onto a pillow. Pascale knelt beside him, helping him get settled. I passed her a cushion before I sat across from them. Brynmor finished his inspection of the room and plopped down beside me, head on legs and ears perked. Old Father grinned at that.

“Brother Canis trailed Vaughn and the others into the city last night.” He squinted. “His aura is…wrong. There are conflicting colors, conflicting spirits. Yet they are in harmony. I have never seen such a thing. Possession by a spirit wears on a host. It is violent, malicious, this is neither.”

“They have an accord,” I managed to say, though his news unsettled me.

“You two can communicate then?” Old Father sent Pascale for his supply roll.

I hoped mine could be salvaged from the Theridiidae camp. “We can.”

Tension in my chest eased. Days of holding this secret inside made my truths ready to spill.

Old Father stared at me, waiting. How well he knew me.

I held my palm up and out, so he saw the irritated skin.

“I see.” He glared at the canis. “Reckless spirit, your mark has infected her.”

Brynmor yawned.

“When you say he infected me…” I leaned forward. “Is there a cure?”

Old Father opened his mouth, then shut it. “How were you infected?”

Shame closed my throat.
Lives are at stake
.
Forget your pride
.
Own up to your negligence.

“I was doing my duty, aiding spirits trapped in the tunnels. Most crossed over with my help, but one refused. He stalked me for days. When my time and options ran out, I decided to banish him for the good of the Araneidae nest. His malevolent aura concerned me.” How simple it had seemed. “Since the Araneidae were in mourning and their clan vulnerable to negative energies, I felt I owed them peace, that it was my duty to dispel the spirit as a final blessing for their nest.”

His stare was patient, but even I knew I was stalling. I cleared my throat. “My preparations were interrupted, and I forgot myself. I gathered the ashes of my offerings, but…I forgot them in the tunnel.” I shrank from the reprimand I anticipated. “Later when he confronted me the second time, he held the ashes. He was violent, and I was afraid.” Brynmor whined, and I glared at him. “Don’t deny it.” To Old Father, I said, “I tried dispersing him, and he bit me. Afterwards, the welt formed. It wasn’t until later I realized we had inadvertently become linked.” When he kept quiet, I said, “He comes to me in my dreams. We can’t communicate otherwise. He has an agenda.”

Old Father studied Brynmor. “Most lost souls do.”

“Can this bond be reversed?” Hope lilted my voice, but this was my mentor. He understood.

“I will have to think on your situation. I have never seen the likes of it firsthand.” He tapped his ankle as his demeanor turned thoughtful. “This is good.” He sounded certain. “This is right.”

I felt like a child for asking, “You’re not disappointed?”

“I thought I had taught you better. Your shame is mine.” He grimaced. “But I must believe the two gods willed it so. This smacks of inevitability. Our clan, our family, has been broken for too long.” He reached for me, and I took his hand. “Sikya is bitter. She hurts for Kowatsi, and in her anger, she has turned you from your path more than once. Follow your heart. It speaks true.”

Unsure what path had been denied me and wary of listening to my foolish heart, I nodded.

“I will consult with the other elders while you’re away.” He checked every tin and every jar in his supply roll, then rolled it tight and gave it to me. “I will have an answer upon your return.”

“I only just arrived.” He must be confused. I was. “I have no plans to leave again so soon.”

“Your guide remains.” His gaze lingered on Brynmor. “Your journey has not yet ended.”

Hope and fear tumbled from my heart into my gut. “I don’t understand.”

“You are not the only one visited by spirits.” His voice turned grave. “The yellow death will not be content until it has infected every corner of our world. We must prepare for the worst. The other clans do not honor the old ways, but for our closest neighbors. I do not know how or when, but I know you are the key. The spiritlands are rife with gossip, and your name is on all their lips as the best chance this world has for survival.” His eyes went dim. “I had thought by aiding Rhys you were on the right path.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the journey to Erania was but the first step.”

“You have something in mind.” I knew him well enough to tell his decision was made.

“I can think of no other way for your destiny to be fulfilled than if you faced the plague.” He exhaled hard. “Vaughn’s fate was intertwined with our clan before he drew his first breath. Such is the way of soul mates. Isolde and Kowatsi’s love is a cautionary tale for those who circumvent the plans of the two gods. Sometimes in life, these matters cannot be helped. Sometimes in death, such situations are rectified.” He paused. “I am well aware of the laws of succession among the Mimetidae. Their fate rests in your hands. In this time of dying, you have the power to heal old pains. Sikya is wise, she will see this. She will know that by detaining Vaughn, letting the plague run its course, she will have her revenge. Isolde will die. Brynmor’s legacy will die. Vaughn will be slain to avoid the chance that he may reclaim his birthright. Kowatsi will have been avenged.”

My eyes snapped shut to block the pain that image conjured. “I can’t—
won’t
—lose him.”

Old Father saw too much for my comfort.

“Rhys lost his father, was raised apart from his mother.” I leveled my voice. “He can’t lose Vaughn too. It’s too much. I won’t let Sikya’s vendetta cost my cousin what family he has left.”

“Ah.” His eyes glittered. “So you do this for Hoya’s sake, then?”

“I have a soul mate.” The old excuse was getting weaker. “I can’t—”

“You do.” His nod was slow. “Have you looked at a male, not with your sight and not at his aura, but at the male himself, his character? Your inability to divine your match through a simple aural reading fuels your anxiety. You cannot see your aura. Perhaps…you cannot see his, either.”

I braced my palms on either side of me, let the cool floor ground me. The answer was not so simple. It couldn’t be. There was only one male whose aura eluded me. Only one male I studied as Old Father advised, despite my certainty we were incompatible. Had my aunt known this too?

My nails dug into dirt. “I will consider what you’ve said—about this private matter—later.”

“You stand at a crossroads. You have the choice of aiding Vaughn, winning powerful allies for yourself and our clan, or pursuing Sikya’s revenge. Regardless of your choice, both paths are treacherous. Such is often the case when rewards run high…” His words ended on a yawn. “You will emerge from your quest changed.” He shrugged. “How you are changed will be up to you.”

I shifted on my cushion. “Am I right in assuming we won’t be meditating?”

“There is no need.” He waved his hand. “You and the canis speak. You and I have spoken.”

“What will you tell Vaughn?”

“The truth.” Old Father made a token effort to rise.

“Here, let me—” I stood.

“I have him,” Pascale said softly. “It’s no trouble.”

A sliver of envy wedged beneath my heart, but I had been Old Father’s apprentice for many years past the time his other apprentices left to perform missionary works. I clung to home and to family, to him. Shrugging my shoulders, I felt every bit the baby bird being forced from her nest.

A rough knock at the hut’s doorway made me turn.

Vaughn held out his hand, and it was the most natural thing in the world for me to take it.

“Time is running short.” He kissed my palm. “I must leave soon. Can we talk now?”

“There will be ample time for conversation on your way to Cathis,” Old Father said.

“You’re coming with me?” Vaughn frowned. “You can’t—the plague—”

“As far as we know, the plague hasn’t spread into Araneaeans.” I squeezed his hand. “What we can expect is there will be many dead left in the yellow death’s wake. Trauma leaves unseen victims. There will be souls in need of help crossing over. I can help them.” I steadied my voice. “If there are survivors, I can heal them or attempt to save them. I can help, if you let me.”

Vaughn dropped my hand and balled his fists at his sides.

“I failed you once before.” His voice grated. “When the enemies were known, I still failed to prevent our capture. Lives were lost. You were…” His throat worked. “Torrance almost killed you. I was bound and useless.” He glared at my feet. “The canis was more use to you than me.”

I took his face in my hands. “You saved me.” At his snort, I expanded, “Lourdes’s vest, your warmth, how you kept me from dwelling. You stole the knife, you devised the plan. I could have gotten us both killed. I was foolish and impulsive when I should have done as you asked me to.”

He braced his forehead on mine. “Please don’t make me choose. I’m selfish. I want you.”

Throats cleared behind us. I ignored them. “You want me to come with you?”

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “I do.”

A flush stole across my cheeks. “Then I’ll gather my things.”

“No, Mana, you won’t.” Sikya’s voice crackled with fury. Grasping my arm, she yanked me from Vaughn. “You are an
apprentice
spirit walker. Old Father has not informed me of a change in your status. For the time being, your clan needs you. I regret the Mimetidae’s plight, but many southland clans have weathered the yellow death and survived. There have been casualties, but I can’t, in good conscience, let you risk your life in pursuit of a cure my husband already chases.”

“I have resources Chinedu lacks.” I wrenched from her grasp. “Part of aiding a soul crossing over is helping the spirit make peace with the circumstances of its passing. While counseling the departing, I will learn the details of their deaths direct from the source. Think of the lives I might save. If another clan is using the plague to cover its crimes, this communion will unmask them.”

“You are my niece. I will not risk what little family I have left on those—” She snapped her jaw shut before finishing. “You are too precious a commodity to risk. I’m sorry. You’re staying.”

Old Father radiated disapproval, but Sikya ignored him. When he nodded at me, I found the strength to say, “No. I’m sorry. I’m leaving. If something were to happen to Isolde, then not only would Vaughn’s life be forfeit, but Rhys would lose Lourdes. Without his clan’s backing, he has no way to protect Erania. Paladin or not, Lourdes has proven she will go to any lengths to protect her clan. That includes separation from her husband and the courting of a new partisan. Can you, after witnessing your brother’s end, consign his son to the same fate? In Rhys’s case, it would be infinitely worse. His life threads are tied to Lourdes’s. If she takes a lover in her bed for the good of her clan, he will wish for a death her clansmen won’t allow, because if he dies, so does she.”

Sikya’s shoulders bowed. “My poor Kowatsi…I can’t…not to his son.”

“Then don’t. Let me go with Vaughn,” I pleaded. “Let me secure Rhys’s safety.”