Crystal Moon (8 page)

A coughing spell ended Zoa’s declarations. Breath wheezed

through the girl’s blue lips as she struggled for air. Instinctively,

Sianna reached for her.

To attempt a healing now was beyond foolish. Fatigue and

hunger already sapped Sianna’s strength. A healing would leave

her weaker still, but she didn’t fight her urge to assist. Splaying

her fingers across Zoa’s back, Sianna shut her eyes. Warmth

radiated from her hand as she concentrated on seeing Zoa’s

illness. Colors swirled behind her eyelids, then a thick grey sludge

crept across her vision, obscuring the pleasant kaleidoscope.

A prickly sensation shot up Sianna’s arm and lanced through

her chest. She gasped. Time ceased to have meaning as she

absorbed into herself the disease destroying Zoa’s tiny lungs.

Finally, Zoa’s spasms passed, and she leaned limply against

Sianna’s chest. Though not yet completely healed, already Zoa

breathed easier. A flush of healthy pink replaced the blue tinge

around her eyes and mouth.

The little girl stirred and blinked in confusion. “I have to go

now. Grenna gets mad if I’m late for bed.” Zoa slipped off

Sianna’s lap and made her way to the door. “Can I visit you

again?” she asked shyly.

Too breathless to speak, Sianna smiled and nodded. Seconds

later the girl was gone, leaving Sianna alone again with Warda.

As if he understood, Warda moved back to her side, his yellow

eyes watching her with concern.

Never before had a healing taken so much of her, left her

so drained. Then never had she attempted to heal with so little

in reserve. These last few days of fear and hardship had taken

their toll, leaving her unfit to use her skills. The Sisters had

often cautioned her to practice restraint in the use of her talent,

to give a little at a time rather than all at once, to build her

strength before attempting to heal, but when she touched Zoa,

prudence had fled in front of need.

Bit by bit, the tight band around her chest loosened, her

breathing eased as she struggled to regain equilibrium. She had

given too much, too fast to recover quickly, but she couldn’t

regret the healing she gave the child. Zoa would live, and given

time, Sianna would regain her strength.

How much time did she have?

Heavy with fatigue, Sianna’s eyelids drooped and her head

nodded forward.

Warda whined and nudged her hand. The feel of his cold,

wet nose roused her to stagger the few steps along with him to

his place by the hearth and curl up on his rug. When he curved

his shaggy body behind her, she sighed softly, but sleep evaded

her long into the night as she coped with the aches and pains of

an ill-planned healing and worry for her future.

***

Last meal was long over before Kyne left Graham and

made his way toward his room. Even the crowded main hall

was quiet. Only the occasional murmur of a mother to a restless

child broke the silence. The fire burnt low, casting flickering

shadows over the people sleeping nearby, while the rest of the

hall lay in darkness.

The greasy, undercooked meat and soggy, overcooked

vegetables arranged on the tray he carried looked less than

appetizing and tasted worse. But it was all he could find in the

chaos that reigned in the castle’s kitchen. Waste ran rampant.

Something needed to be done, or they would deplete what stores

they had long before winter set in.

Tomorrow he would consider this problem along with the

others facing him. For now, he wanted to return to the meager

comfort of his chamber and find what rest he could. At the

door he paused. Rest? As long as she remained, he would find

little rest within. Did she even now sleep in his bed? The thought

of her slim body lying where he had lain made him shift in

sudden discomfort.

Anger surged through him. He refused to allow her presence

to disturb him—in any way. Uncaring of the lateness of the

hour, he shoved open the door and stomped into the room. His

gaze flew toward the bed. The empty bed. The empty room.

She was gone.

He slammed the tray on the table and started to turn back

toward the door. The little fool! Alone on the mountain she

didn’t stand a chance of survival. If the elements didn’t claim

her, a wild animal or some renegade would. Despite the risk,

when he found her he’d put her under lock and key, if only for

her own safety.

Warda’s low whine made him pause, and he saw her nestled

against the beast.

Relief replaced rage. Kyne refused to examine the fear he

had felt when he thought her in danger.

“Stay, Warda.” He knelt next to the hound and looked at

the sleeping woman. Still wearing Graham’s coat, knees to her

chest, she huddled there. How innocent she appeared.

Over the odor of quinar and wood smoke coming from her

clothing, Kyne caught a lighter scent, reminiscent of a field of

wild flowers after a summer shower. Fresh and clean, the smell

tugged at him, luring him closer.

Moonlight streamed into the chamber, bathing her pale flesh

in a blue-white glow. Dark shadows circled her closed eyes.

Like a veil of tangled black silk, her hair lay around her shoulders

and down her back.

The heavy mass tempted him. Would it feel as soft as it

looked?

“Moon’s mercy,” he cursed and jerked backward at the

thought.

She moaned softly in her sleep, her body twitching. Of

what did she dream? Of power and riches like her father? Or

of fear and pain? Which did he wish for her?

“Cold,” she murmured, burrowing deeper into Graham’s

coat.

No fire burned in the chamber’s hearth. Since his departure,

a tenday and four ago, management of the castle had fallen

into further disorder. Exhaustion and frustration dragged at

Kyne. Another problem he must address on the morrow.

Through an open window, damp, chilled air swirled across

his skin. He rose and closed the window. A few minutes after

he started a fire, warmth began to fill the room.

Warda stretched and rose, driven from his spot near the

hearth by the heat. His thick, heavy coat was made to withstand

the harsh mountain elements not the comfort of fireside. When

he padded away, the woman curled even tighter in on herself.

The blaze didn’t seem to warm her.

Kyne hesitated. Should he leave her? Even near the fire,

the stone floor was cold and hard. Could he sleep knowing she

lay shivering? As little as he wanted her in his bed, he couldn’t

allow her to take sick. The decision made, he bent and picked

her up. Surprise and guilty pleasure speared him when she

nestled close and gave a sigh, her breath feathering against his

throat like a warm summer breeze.

Laying her on the far side of the bed, he took off Graham’s

coat and her slippers, then he readied himself for sleep, removing

his outer clothing and boots. When he turned to climb into the

bed, he found her curled in the middle. He pushed her over and

settled himself as far from her as the bed allowed. She wiggled

next to him. Weary of the battle to keep his distance, he let her

be.

Sleep evaded him. Unquenched desire for this woman

would be his penance for failing to protect Aubin.

***

A cacophony of sound woke Sianna. The ring of swords.

Voices raised in argument. A clatter of feet and hooves on

stone. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Sunshine poured in

through the window, filling the chamber with a cheerful glow.

An omen of things to come?

She sat up. Her limbs protested the sudden movement, and

she groaned. Sleep restored only a bit of her strength. Last

eve’s exertion combined with long days of unaccustomed activity

left her bruised and sore. The soft mattress beneath her cradled

her aching limbs. She smiled in contentment. While she slept,

Kyne had moved her from the cold hard floor.

The urge to curl back under the covers fought with her

wish to start the day and make a place for herself here among

Kyne’s people. Judging by what she had seen on her arrival,

there was much for her to do. She could not lie abed waiting

for her body to catch up with her mind.

Later she’d hunt up a bath and clean clothing. For now, she

settled for a quick wash from the basin of water she found

near the hearth. The cool water felt good against her grimy

skin. With Kyne’s comb she smoothed most of the tangles and

dust from her hair, then straightened her borrowed attire as

best she could. Her stomach rumbled. Putting on her slippers

she left the chamber in search of first meal. Warda followed

quietly.

Outside the chamber door, the noise level increased, and

the stench of charred meat, singed fur and other less pleasant

odors hung thick in the air. Even if she would eat meat, the

smell did little to tempt her appetite. Resting her hand on Warda’s

head, she moved down the hall.

At the top of the stairs she paused. Worse than she

remembered, chaos reigned in the great hall. A hundred or more

people milled about. Off to the left, people too weak to move

lay on pallets. Her need to help these people drew Sianna

forward. She stopped. First she must eat and gain strength. If

she collapsed, she would be of no aid.

In the center of the hall two men, actually lanky boys no

older than ten and four annum, fought with swords. Around

them others scrambled to avoid being trampled or skewered by

the flashing weapons. No one seemed concerned, so Sianna

assumed the boys merely practiced rather than fought in earnest.

To the right, women tended to a group of children. As Sianna

reached the bottom of the stairs, one child, a boy of about six

annum, stepped away from the rest, right between the two

combatants.

A woman screamed. The boy froze, eyes wide in terror as

a crystal sword swept toward his head. Momentum prevented

the sword wielder from checking his swing.

Just before the sword made its pass through the boy’s neck,

Sianna lunged forward and knocked him to the floor. Heart

racing, she lay atop the now crying child. Hands reached for

her, pulling her up. Voices babbled, but she couldn’t hear over

the thundering of her heart and the whistling sound of the sword

rushing over her head. She stood shaking in the center of a

group of people.

“Silence!” Kyne’s roar echoed off the stone walls until

only the child’s whimpers remained.

Like a crystal flower seeks the sun, Sianna turned toward

Kyne, her body swaying in reaction and relief.

“What goes on here?”

Another swell of sound started. “Quiet! You.” He pointed

at the woman cradling the crying child. His voice dropped to a

gentler note. “Tell me what happened.”

The woman stuttered her reply, clutching her uninjured child

to her ample bosom. With every word, Kyne’s gaze grew harder.

When she finished, he turned toward the two boys, playing as

men, who stood awkwardly holding their swords.

“The rest of you go about your business. You two, stay.”

Without protest, the crowd dispersed. They talked in hushed

tones, the bustle of the hall muted by the near tragedy.

On quivering legs Sianna started to back away as well, but

Kyne reached out and pulled her to his side, an arm wrapped

around her waist. Shaken, she accepted his body’s warmth and

support. A split second later and the boy’s head would have

been severed from his body. She shuddered, and Kyne’s arm

tightened. With a sigh she leaned into him.

“Come,” he commanded the boys and led them out of the

hall. He pulled Sianna along. In the castle courtyard he stepped

away from her and turned on the boys. “Fighting in the hall.

You are beyond foolish.”

“We only want to learn, Rul,” one boy spoke defiantly. “We

meant no harm.”

“Is that what you would tell the lad’s mother when her

child lay dead, his severed head at her feet?”

The boy blanched. The other boy, the one who had swung

the sword, turned and vomited onto the cobblestones. Sianna’s

empty stomach churned at the image Kyne’s words invoked.

Thank the moons she’d been quick enough to avert the tragedy.

“You wish to learn to fight. Very well. Graham,” he called.

Graham stepped forward out of the crowd and looked at

the two white-faced, trembling boys. “Yes, Rul?” Sianna could

feel his repressed humor.

“I have two new recruits for you. See that they begin

training immediately. In the yards, not the hall. Pay special

attention to this one’s aim.” He pointed at the sword wielder,

then turned back to Sianna. “You have my thanks for your

timely intervention.”

His stiff, reluctant words left a sour taste in her mouth. He

didn’t want to thank her, but he felt he must. “To have worth,

gratitude must be freely given.”

Anger swiftly followed surprise in Kyne’s eyes. “You dare

much.”

Though her body still quaked, she met him stare for stare.