Dangerous Talents (16 page)

Dahleven gave her an approving smile. “Two years ago, a petition came before the Kon. The shepherds who run their sheep in the high pastures of the eastern range were losing their lambs to a mountain cat. They’d hunted her themselves, but the canny beast proved too elusive. Worse, while they’d been hunting her, she’d been hunting too, and she’d killed the shepherd left guarding the flock. So they sent a man to bring their need before Kon Neven.

“I asked for the privilege of ridding the high valleys of the cat, and Sorn came with me. We’d hunted together often, and we each knew the other’s ways. So we begged Freya’s blessing to hunt her cat and rode up to the high pastures. We left our mounts with the men who’d sought our help, and went forward on foot.

“We followed that cat for four days. We tracked her well, through bone-chilling streams and over the twisted rocky trails she took trying to evade us. We rested little, and she even less. Often we saw her on a distant ridge, grown sleek and fat on the lambs she’d stolen.

“Late on the fourth day she’d run enough. The summer sun on her coat no longer rippled like molten gold, and her movements were slow and tired. Sorn and I split, circling wide, knowing she was most dangerous now.

“The sun was in my eyes when I jumped down into a hollow, following her trail, and I came upon her suddenly, and alone. She was above me and leapt before I could knock arrow. Her spotted belly blurred in motion, but I saw clearly her teeth bared, her claws extended, reaching for me as if I was a helpless lamb.

“Sorn’s arrow took her in mid-leap, clean into her eye. She fell, her full weight upon me. My ankle twisted as I went down, and her weight cracked two of my ribs. Sorn had to half carry me down the mountain.”

His voice was thick as he continued. “He’d crept quietly around her with the breeze in his teeth so she never knew he was there. He’d been about to take her when I blundered in. And that is how I gave Sorn the chance to be a hero, saving with one shot both the flocks and me.” He coughed and cleared his throat.

Cele peered at him. The torch flickered unsteadily, nearly burned out, the wavering light concealing his face with uncertain shadows, but she had heard the unshed tears in his voice. She blinked away the moisture that stung her eyes. “I’ll miss him. I know we only just met, but he treated me with kindness.” Dahleven would probably think her words sounded lame, but it was all she had to offer. “That may not be heroic, but it meant a lot to me.”

“Freyr honors such things.”

“Freyr?”

Dahleven raised his eyebrows, and his voice questioned her ignorance. “Freyr. Of the Vanir.”

He peered at her in the dim light and must have seen her blankness. Hardly surprising, since she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Apparently, he came to that conclusion, because he continued, offering explanation.

“The Vanir are the first gods, older even than the Aesir. We look to Freyr and his sister Freya to bless us with peace and plenty, as he did when he opened the way to this land for us, some eight hundred years ago. We may thank Odin for poetry, Tyr for law, and Thor for courage in battle, but it is Freyr who blesses the union of men and women with pleasure and children. He rewards those who show respect and courtesy to women.”

“Sorn is dead. That’s not much of a reward.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I can’t blame someone else for what I did.”

“What you did?”

Cele looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. “It’s my fault he died. If I hadn’t distracted him…”

Dahleven lifted her chin with two fingers and looked her in the eye. “Did you summon the Renegades to attack us?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Did you wield the club that pierced Sorn’s belly?”

“That’s not—”

“Did you not prevent two Renegades from taking him unaware?”

“I suppose so, but—”

“These things happen in battle, Celia.”

“Sorn said something like that, too, but he was only trying to make me feel better.”

Dahleven shook his head. “He spoke the truth. We do our best, but we have no say in when the Norns snip our life’s thread. I am sorry to have lost my sworn brother, but his death was an honorable one. You bear no fault in this. You owe no
wereguild
for Sorn.”

Cele looked into Dahleven’s steady gray eyes. He meant it. He didn’t hold her responsible in any way. He was far more familiar with combat than she was. Maybe she should trust that he knew what he was talking about. Maybe Sorn’s death wasn’t her fault.

But her heart still ached.

The light flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows on the walls. “The torch won’t last much longer,” Dahleven said. “I’ll show you to the latrine.”

“Latrine?”

Dahleven’s tone was rather arch. “We don’t usually relieve ourselves in the hallways.”

Cele felt herself blushing and hoped he couldn’t tell in the uncertain light.

They’d barely returned to the chamber when the last small flame of the torch finally died. Its light had been minimal, but the return of absolute blackness oppressed Cele by its stark contrast with the cheerful red flame. She hadn’t slept with a nightlight since childhood, but she’d welcome one now. The floor was smooth but hard and unyielding and the wool beneath her did little to insulate her from the cold seeping into her bones. She felt isolated in the utter absence of light, and as she huddled at the edge of the blankets, she listened for the sounds of Dahleven’s breathing to tell her she was not alone.

She wished she could reach out to him, just for the relief of touching another person, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. It would only embarrass them both if he thought she was issuing an invitation. The memory of the first morning flashed into her mind, that moment when she’d awakened entwined with Dahleven, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Heat flooded her face—and other parts of her body.

They’d fit together perfectly. She’d felt comforted and secure until she realized he was awake.
I don’t need this. I don’t want this. Life is weird enough without me falling for some macho jerk of a Viking
. Maybe the dark wasn’t so bad after all, since it hid her blush from his eyes. Cele groaned and covered her face.

Dahleven put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Are you unwell? Does your leg pain you?”

A macho Viking who worries about my welfare
.

Cele managed to reply in a perfectly normal voice that she was fine, but when Dahleven withdrew his hand, she had a hard time not pulling it back.

*

Dahleven tried to ignore his frustration as he rolled away from Celia. Something troubled her, something beyond the wearing strain of the endless dark. He wanted to take her into his arms as he had after Sorn died, as he would one of his own sisters. Except that his feelings for her were not exactly brotherly. It was probably just as well that she kept her fears and troubles to herself. The concern he felt for her had uneven footing; it would be too easy to slide down that slope, out of control.

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It could have been two or twenty feet away for all he could see. He’d never enjoyed exploring the tunnels, not the way Sorn had. It wasn’t so much the dark—most of the tunnels had torches—but the thought of all that rock overhead.

He’d possessed no special advantage in their youthful tunnel adventures; his ordinary sense of direction failed him underground and his Talent had developed late. He remembered the year his younger brother’s Talent bloomed. Ragni had never gloated over him, but he had a boy’s natural excitement in exercising his new ability and learning how to use, or not use it, appropriately. Meanwhile, their elders had obviously begun to fear Dahleven’s Talent would never Emerge. Even when it did appear, it had taken many months to master. Until he’d learned to concentrate, to commit to one path, his variable interest in first the most direct route, then the easiest, or the one with the best light or water had his Talent pulling him hither and yon.

He was master of his Talent now, confident in his ability after years of practice. He could give over his goal to one part of his mind so he could think about other things even as his Talent pulled him where he wanted to go. Which was a good thing, since he’d spent a fair amount of time of late thinking about the woman at his side.

The blanket quivered. Celia was shivering. Tentatively, half expecting a rebuff, he rolled to his side and moved a few inches until his back was against hers. He would rather wrap himself around her, but he feared she would refuse.
She needs the warmth
, he told himself, ignoring the foolish pleasure the slight contact brought.
We need to move quickly tomorrow. I can’t afford for her to take a chill
. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he felt her relax and lean back into his body’s heat. She stopped shivering, and the rhythm of her breathing changed as she slipped into the realm of dreams. He was glad she could escape her troubles for a little while.

He should do the same, he knew, and closed his eyes.

It seemed like only a moment later when a sudden gasp and moan startled him awake. He was already reaching for his sword when he realized there was no threat. Celia lay on her back beside him, rigid and shaking. He reached out to her and found her hands covering her face. She was clammy with sweat. “What is it? Are you ill?”

She took a deep shuddering breath and sat up. “I’m okay. It was just a nightmare.” She shivered.

Dahleven sat up and pulled the blanket they’d lain on over her shoulders.

It was no surprise that fear plagued her dreams after what she’d been through. For the moment, his desire for her was not an issue. All he wanted now was to comfort her. He rubbed his hand in slow circles over her back, just as he used to do for his little sister, Kaidlin. For some reason she’d always sought him out, rather than her nurse or their mother or sister, when some night terror had upset her.

Dahleven didn’t ask Celia to relive her nightmare by recounting it, he just rubbed her back in slow, lazy circles until he felt her relax. Then he pulled her down to nestle against his chest. To his relief, she didn’t argue or resist. She’d barely settled her head into the hollow of his shoulder before he heard her breathing deepen and slow in sleep.

Pleased by her trust in him, Dahleven slept.

*

When Cele awoke, she saw the same scene as when she’d closed her eyes the night before. Nothing. Only the feel of her lids moving told her that her eyes were open.

During the night, she’d curled around Dahleven, her arm curving over his waist, her legs tucked behind his. She was toasty and comfortable—except where the stone floor pressed an ache into her shoulder and hip. He’d been so gentle when she’d wakened from the nightmare. Was this the same man who’d barked at her just days ago? Reluctant to leave the warmth but needing to ease her bones, Cele gingerly pulled away, hoping he wasn’t awake yet.

Stiffly, she stood and stretched life back into her sore muscles. The worst of the pain from their long climb had faded, but her muscles and joints felt like they belonged to an old woman after the night on the cold floor. She’d never thought of bare dirt as accommodating before, but compared to unforgiving stone, it was comfy.

Dahleven apparently felt the same way. He groaned as she heard him roll onto his back, then stand and make his way to one of the chests. A moment later, sparks flashed like fireflies and a torch flared and caught.

Cele blinked owlishly even as she welcomed the light. Her eyes weren’t so bedazzled, though, that she missed Dahleven’s half-smile.

“We’ll move faster today, now that we can see where we’re going. You won’t have to hang onto my belt.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“But don’t take that as freedom to wander,” he said. “Stay with me, and stay in the shaped tunnels. The natural caverns are dangerous.”

Cele had no desire to go exploring on her own, but she was curious. “Dangerous how?”

“The footing’s treacherous; in some places the floor can drop right out from under you. And…creatures live in there, in the dark. Creatures you don’t want to meet.”

Creatures
? She shivered. “I haven’t seen or smelled any sign of animals so far.”

“They avoid our tunnels.” Dahleven spoke seriously. “You’re safe as long as you stay out of the natural ways.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.”

Dahleven smiled. “We’ll be above ground by midday. Does that suit you?”

Cele grinned. “Definitely!”

“Myself, also. Let’s eat and take care of the necessities. Sooner begun, sooner done.”

Before long they were on their way, each of them carrying a supply of torches. Dahleven led the way, holding one aloft. The flame danced, casting flickering shadows on the walls. A thousand questions flooded into Cele’s mind.
How many of the others survived
?
What is Quartzholm like
?
Will the others be there
? And top of the list,
How the heck am I going to get home
?

CHAPTER EIGHT

When the floor started to angle upward, Dahleven felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. They were almost home, almost out of the tunnels. The rock walls on either side opened wider and they had space enough to comfortably walk abreast as they climbed the gentle slopes or shallow, widely spaced steps. He ignored the occasional narrow passageways that opened on either side of the wider tunnel. Some were ventilation shafts, others were bolt-holes from the private areas of Quartzholm above.

There had been talk off and on about sealing the various hidden passages, or at least locking them with iron gates as the main tunnel was, if only to keep the children from wandering down and getting lost. It had been a long time since the provinces had moved against one another with more than a minor raid; there no longer existed a need for a quick exit. Or so the argument went on the rare occasion the subject arose—usually after a brief search for an errant child.