Daughter of Prophecy (37 page)

Coming shakily to her feet, Lakenna gave a quick glance at the twisted body of the warrior and wanted to cry.
More deaths will follow unless we can overcome this hindrance.

Everyone stood still for a long moment. Then all began talking at once: loud, relieved. Several debated hotly whose shot had hit the eye.

“Enough!” Llyr's voice cut through the babble like a dash of cold water. He limped up from the area where most of the trampling from the loose horses had taken place. “I'll hear no arguing over this. Neither will I hear arguing over who turned backsides to these things, intending to leave poor Dar unavenged before Lord Tellan rallied us.” His eyes were fierce enough to bore holes in wood. The men hung their heads and avoided the rhyfelwr's gaze.

Llyr let the uncomfortable silence last a moment longer. “Still,” he continued in an even tone, “we did ourselves proud. We killed one and ran the others off. Not bad. Next time, if we can handle the horses better, not one of these things will fly away.” The men raised their heads and squared their shoulders. “I want ten men to stand guard with bows. Those of you who have horses, go round up those that broke loose. The rest see to those that got burned or come with me to tend to Dar.”

Everyone moved smartly to obey. Once the body was wrapped in a blanket, the Keeper left to say rites. Lakenna followed and stood at the back of the gathering, feeling out of place. Rhiannon stood next to her father in front of the wrapped body. After Branor finished, Tellan said a few words. Dar's body was tied on to his horse to be brought back and buried.

By the time the stray horses were brought back, it was past noon. Tellan ordered a quick meal.

Lakenna was not hungry. She took a blanket and folded it several times to make a pad. Placing it in front of a chest-high rock covered with brown moss, she sat down and winced. She fought the urge to rub her buttocks. Soon she was going to have to get back in that saddle.

“Undirected,” a low voice said.

Lakenna started. “What?”

Branor gathered his black robe and sat down cross-legged in front of her. “This attack. It must've been undirected. The horrors acted like wild beasts. If a demon had been directing them, they would not have stopped.” He regarded her frankly, his dark eyes alive as he worried with it. “We did no good just now. If they attack at night, and you and I cannot fight past that barrier, this will seem like an afternoon stroll.”

She had no answer to that. Then she noticed he was looking at her that way again!
I don't need this!
She steeled herself and returned his look evenly.

His eyes dropped. He pulled at a blade of grass. “I spoke out of turn about the hurt I see in you. This is new to me. I only want to be of help, if you will allow it.”

Anger flared. “I do not need Keeper help! We Albanes have people who can see my . . . ” She looked away.

“Sin,” he finished softly.

“I am indwelt by the Eternal,” she said firmly. “I am forgiven.” Unaccountably, tears flooded her eyes. “I am.” She wiped her eyes. “I don't need anything from you.”

“Whatever you have done, I have done much worse.” Branor leaned toward her, his eyes sad. “Many years ago, the wisest man I know told me that those the Eternal calls for great duties, he first breaks. That way they know to rely on his strength and not their own.” His voice thickened. “I ran from my breaking, and five good men are dead because of it. When I was forced to face that—forgiven though I was—it broke something in me.” He paused. “I sense a similar running in you.”

As she struggled to keep her face bland, the bitter taste of Old Tanny's herbal tea flooded her mouth. She swallowed twice in an effort to be rid of it.

He gestured to where Rhiannon stood talking to her father and Llyr. “Her prophecy is about the Covenant. I fear some problem within the Faber dynasty has weakened the protection of the Covenant to allow the Mighty Ones to loose so many winged horrors.” He shook his head. “This is far beyond any Keeper-Albane rivalry. Great events are afoot, and the Eternal has placed you and me in the very center of it.”

Branor's look of compassion deepened. “Please stop running, dear woman. Too much is at stake. Something very powerful happens when one believer looks another in the face and confesses sin. Whether with me or someone else, do whatever is necessary to keep from bearing that burden any longer.”

Lakenna sat stiff as the rock she leaned against. What would people think of her if she confessed as Branor suggested? She did not have beauty like Rhiannon or position like Branor. Being admired as an Albane of Albanes was what she had clung to all the years of no suitors and diminishing prospects. If she admitted that she had willfully committed the most grievous of sins, she could no longer wear that badge. What would be left?

Only a sinner saved by the unearned love of the Eternal
.
Isn't that what
true
Albanes believe?

She wasn't ready for this right now.

“Tell me what you felt during our prayer,” Branor inquired.

“I could sense . . . ” Lakenna said slowly, grateful for the change of subject as she searched for words to explain the unworldly. “I sensed the demon—perhaps—anyway, whatever we needed to bind. But I could
not
get to it.”

Branor grunted. “For me it was like a bad dream where I knew I had to reach something, but my legs and arms felt like lead.”

“I didn't encounter that the first time.” She pondered. “This hindrance the last two times must be the effect of Tellan's alliance with the pagans.” Discernment surged, and she understood with a clarity that was startling. Her words tumbled out as she tried to keep pace with her new insight. “We're fighting through the West's presence! Tellan's agreement with the Broken Stone Land has tied him to the West, and now we're having to wade through that to get to the North!”

“Of course,” Branor said softly. “Just as the North, through Maolmin, is seeking to prevent Rhiannon from walking in the prophecy, the West, through this wool deal, is seeking the same. And all of it is coming to a head just when Rhiannon is stepping into adulthood.”

Men began kicking out cook fires and tying gear back on horses. Branor came to his feet and held out a hand. Lakenna took it and felt his strength as he pulled her up. They both turned and looked for Rhiannon. She was tightening Munin's girth.

Lakenna gritted her teeth and began walking determinedly toward that unbelievably hard saddle.

“I wonder,” Branor said quietly as he walked beside her, “how many more will have to die before Tellan is convinced of the danger he has brought to his daughter?”

They crested the ridge, and Lakenna sagged with relief. Down the slope, masses of sheep covered the huge meadow as it stretched into the distance. Shepherds moved calmly among the herd.

Beside her, Rhiannon exhaled audibly. She nudged Nineve into a canter down the steep slope. Munin plunged on right beside the filly. Lakenna's eyes went wide, and her mouth opened in a wordless cry as she pitched perilously over the gelding's neck. Rhiannon reached out a hand and righted her. Reining up on Lakenna's other side, Branor put his free hand on a shoulder as well. Somehow, the three of them made it to the bottom with the tutor still in the saddle.

Lakenna took a deep shuddering breath. “M'lady, please help me down, or I fear I will split in half.”

Before Rhiannon could comply, they heard a shout and saw Phelan running toward them from the far side of the meadow, waving his arms and jumping with joy.

A low moan escaped Lakenna's lips as they broke into a canter toward the running boy. Tellan beat them all. The stallion flew across the meadow, scattering sheep in all directions. Coming to a skidding stop a few paces from the boy, Tellan jumped off and Phelan leaped into his arms.

Rhiannon kept checking the sky. It was clear and cloudless. The sheep were calm, except where horses plowed through them. “Do you sense anything?” she asked Branor and Lakenna.

Branor said no. Lakenna just shook her head, watching the decreasing distance to Phelan like a thirsty person eyeing a glass of water. They pulled up at father and son. Rhiannon jumped off Nineve and gave Phelan a bone-crushing hug while Branor helped Lakenna down.

“Rahl and I killed a winged horror!” he announced excitedly as he broke the embrace. “It was easy. Well, once Teacher Lakenna started praying anyway.” He frowned. “Adwr was killed. But he ran. If he had stayed by Mil—” He broke off when he saw Lakenna. “Teacher!” He ran to her. “We could tell when you started praying. What took you so long? I want you to teach me how to pray like that because—”

“Phelan!” Tellan broke in, smiling. “Later. Now, tell me: have there been other attacks?”

“No, sire. Just the one. They did attack both our groups, but at the same time.”

“Any herders injured other than Mil?”

“One of Bowyn's men sliced his palm with an arrowhead. They only had one horror. They killed it. We had two, but one got away.”

Lakenna exchanged a worried frown with Branor. They both understood the numbers. So many winged horrors. Were more arriving every day? How many more were there in all?

A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing the now-familiar smell of sheep. The sun was warm on her face. Glancing at the grass, Lakenna saw it had been grazed down to the dirt. The sheep had to be moved to fresh pastures.

Serous came striding up. “Greetings, m'lord. Been a right interesting few days. Master Phelan proved himself a true Rogoth. Proud I am of him.”

As Tellan asked about the men and sheep, Lakenna kept wondering what was different about the head herder. He had always been unflappable, but now she sensed a solidity, a calmness about the old man that had not been present before. Then it hit her. His hands! The joints were normal, not red and swollen. And his walk. That was what had first piqued her curiosity. Serous had stridden up smoothly, without his characteristic stiff shuffle.

Rhiannon had seen it, too. “Serous,” she blurted, “what happened to your hands?”

“The Eternal healed me, m'lady.” He regarded his hands solemnly. “I prayed for help so I could protect Master Phelan.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers and lifted his knees. “The Eternal answered by freeing me to move.” He nodded to Lakenna and Branor. “Grateful we herders are for your prayers. Without them, we couldn't have stopped those things. Shooting an arrow into a horror's eye by torchlight is nigh on impossible.”

Lakenna cast a worried glance at the sky. Only a few turns of the glass remained until sundown.

Chapter Twenty-seven

R
HIANNON

T
HEY DROVE THE
sheep as fast as they dared toward another meadow with good grass and water. Rhiannon, Lakenna, and Branor rode with Tellan and Phelan, who was on a spare mount chattering away learnedly about sheep herding and winged horror slaying. Mil, his leg splinted, rode in a makeshift litter along with the two bandaged burn victims.

The sky remained empty of all life. Rhiannon had mixed feelings about that. Remembering the ride back to Lachlann, she knew that the total lack of birds could be ominous. All during the afternoon, she had watched the sky with Lakenna and Branor, alert to any outward or inward warning of the Mighty Ones' creatures. The lower the sun sank, the more the north wind picked up.

They stopped with twilight falling. Llyr divided his men into four groups. Serous and Bowyn did the same. Two groups would spend half the night protecting the camp and patrolling among the sheep while the other two groups slept. They would switch at midnight.

Phelan did not last long once he ate in front of the fire. He managed to tell Rhiannon even more about his adventure before his eyelids grew heavy. She made a mat for him with a folded blanket and tucked a second around him. After kissing his forehead, she smoothed his hair and told him how proud she was of him. He smiled happily and was asleep before she straightened up.

She added a few branches to the fire and began oiling her sword. Lakenna sat across the flames, picking at her food.

The attack had unnerved Rhiannon more than she wanted to admit. Such a helpless feeling watching the arrows bounce off the horrors. It reminded her again of that first attack on the road, something she hadn't really dealt with in her mind. And then there was the difficultly she'd felt in praying. She had tried to join Branor and Lakenna, but didn't think she'd helped. She had to face it: in the moment of need she'd been useless. Protectoress of the Covenant? She couldn't even protect Nineve.

The inward nagging built again, telling her to surrender. Surrender her will, her plans, her hopes to the Eternal and trust him for the outcome. Almost like Lakenna and Branor wanted Tellan to give up the trade agreement. Rhiannon suddenly understood his dilemma in a new light.

Around the other fires, the warriors and herders scheduled for the midnight watch ate and talked among themselves, bows and quivers within easy reach. Each fire had a supply of unlit torches stacked nearby.