Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (47 page)

Netya had come to realise since leaving her village that she was far from a passive woman, and Adel had played a large part in nurturing the side of her that had first felt compelled to leave her home behind and embrace the wild. It felt wrong to sit idle and leave her fate in the hands of forces she could not control. It was why she had felt so uncomfortable and so trapped by her vision of the future once its true nature had been made clear to her.

She cast a longing glance over in Caspian's direction as he knelt to conceal one of the traps, taking care not to prick himself on the keen spikes jutting up like spear tips. When to tell him, and how? She wanted to, but the time felt wrong. They had greater concerns at present, and was it wise to split her man's attention between the protection of their child and the safety of the pack as a whole? A dark shadow fell across her face as she realised just how cautious she was being with the truth these days. Another in a long line of signs that told her she was becoming more and more like her mentor. Wiser, but increasingly distant from the open, honest purity of her youth.

By the time the sky had turned golden and the light was fading the western end of the valley was littered with Briar's poisoned spikes. The whole pack had been warned to take extra care when venturing that way, but aside from those keeping a constant watch for Miral and his clan no one was permitted to go far. When Netya and Caspian returned to the den that evening the young men were all following Hari's lead in practising how to throw javelins, devoid of their usual boisterousness as they applied themselves studiously to the task at hand.

Many of the seers had been coming and going all day, carrying wood, leaves, and heavy pouches up and down the sides of the valley. They looked to be building fires in the caves higher up the slopes, filling every nook and alcove they could find on both the northern and southern sides with fresh pyres ready to light.

"More flames to scare Miral's warriors," Caspian said. "Adel only planned on preparing a few to burn with her spirit fire, but I suggested we make more."

"Why? It will be difficult to light so many."

"Ah, but what would you think if you walked into an enemy den and saw more burning hearths than you could count?"

Netya thought for a moment, conjuring the image to mind. "I think I would be very afraid of being outnumbered. But Miral knows there are only a few of us."

"He knows only a few of us attended the gathering. I suspect he also knows that we left with more at our side, but not how many. And he knows that Adel is very cunning. He may wonder whether we have been able to gather more warriors to our side since then. Even if he does not truly believe it, it may make him hesitate, and strike fear into his followers. Let us not forget how much they revere the power of witches. They may think you have summoned forth an army of spirit warriors to defend the valley."

"I am not so sure," Netya said, recalling the moment Miral had cornered her at the gathering. He was shrewd, and he was determined. His presence had been so overbearing that any thoughts of outwitting the man had fled her mind. The memory of him still frightened her. "He is like Khelt. There is something in him that refuses to soften or break, even when it would be wise to do so." She looked up at her man and placed her good hand on his arm. "At the gathering," she said softly. "You won that fight with Adel's brother. Could you beat Miral?"

"I cannot say. You know I would rather not fight, but if I must, I will."

Netya sensed there was more to it than he was willing to speak of. He had fought Karel, had he not? And for nothing more than pride. No, she knew Caspian better now. Perhaps it had once been true that he had no taste for fighting, but that was before his inner beast had been roused by the female he now longed to protect. Every wolf, she suspected, had something that could push them to fully embrace their feral side. For Khelt and Adel it had been their hatred for one another. For Caspian, was it his fierce love for her?

A brief commotion near the group of men broke Netya's reverie, though it was silenced almost as quickly as it had begun. Squinting through the dusk, she made out a pale-looking Kin being led by Eyan and Hari away from the others. Behind them walked Adel, clad in her full gown and headdress, the knife she used for cutting herbs clutched in one hand.

"It is time, then," Caspian said, moving his arm around Netya's waist and pulling her closer to his side.

"He does not deserve to be punished," she said suddenly. "He was only foolish, not wicked."

"Foolish in a way that almost led to Pera's death." Caspian looked at her, his expression drawn with discomfort. He left the words "and perhaps yours too" unspoken.

"What good will it do now?"

"He must learn," Caspian said firmly. "It is not about making him suffer for what he has done, it is about ensuring that he never does it again." He moved his hand gently to the shoulder of her wounded arm, as if to remind her.

Netya's eyes followed the procession as they made their way down the valley in the direction of the trees, where the bone chimes rattled their eerie music in the distance. Adel made no ceremony of it, but by the time she had passed by the base of the waterfalls more than half the pack had assembled to follow silently in her wake.

"What do you think she will do to him?" Netya whispered.

"I do not know. Many times she punished those who wronged the seerhood of Khelt's pack, but it was done out of sight, and they were never permitted to speak of what happened. It was one of the reasons she was so feared by the rest of the clan."

Queasy with morbid curiosity, Netya's feet carried her along in the wake of the others. If Kin was to suffer for his actions, then she at least felt obliged to stand witness to it. The evening was cold, flecks of icy rain adding a sting to the wind as they walked past the painted stag skull upon its cairn. Adel stepped out in front of the others and led them to the trees, taking them a short ways into the undergrowth until the distant glow of the den was lost from view, but not deep enough to risk walking over the poisoned spike traps that guarded the valley's entrance. Someone up ahead had brought a single guttering torch, and by its intermittent light Netya saw the den mother walk from tree to tree, before coming to a halt in front of a small but sturdy oak and gesturing to its base with her knife.

"Bind him here."

Kin dragged his feet, but he did not struggle as Eyan and Hari hefted him forward and turned the young man around, forcing him to kneel at the base of the tree Adel had indicated. His knuckles were white as his two captors pulled his shaking arms behind the trunk and bound his wrists together, using not weak cords woven from grass, but strong and valuable ones made of animal sinew. For whatever reason, Adel had deemed it wise to ensure that he could not tear himself free.

Perspiration beaded upon Kin's brow, his streak of blonde hair hanging across the side of his face as he stared down into the grass. "Den Mother," he murmured through a jaw that had been clenched tight to stop it from shaking, "I know I have been foolish."

"Do not speak," Adel replied, hooking the blade of her knife beneath his chin and forcing his head up to look at her. "You have betrayed me, boy, and so you have betrayed your pack. Exile or death would not be unjust punishments for what your actions have wrought. Had Pera lost his life, there would be no place left for you among my clan. Understand that this is a great mercy I am about to show you."

Kin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to settle anywhere but upon the den mother's frighteningly beautiful face. His throat bobbed, but he said nothing.

"You will answer to the spirits this night," Adel continued. "Theirs is the punishment you must endure, not mine. Let us hope they put an end to the boy who brought such grave danger upon his pack, and send back to us a man tempered with their wisdom. For if you ever disobey me again, Kin, it will be for the last time."

Netya flinched as the den mother gripped him by the hair and pulled his head back, bringing her knife to his forehead as smoothly as if she had been cutting herbs. With her thumb braced against the back of the blade, she drew it across the area just above Kin's left eye in a single sharp stroke. The cords binding his wrists creaked as the young man flinched, his brow contorting with pain.

"Yenna," Adel said, and the elder seer stepped forward to pass the den mother a handful of grass to clean her blade. Then, from within her own gowns, she produced a small pouch and tipped the contents into her palm. The strong scent of the sickly-smelling herbs that grew in abundance up and down the valley hit Netya's nostrils a moment later, slightly charred and powdered to increase their potency. Ignoring the blood running down the side of Kin's face, Adel used her thumb to press the herbs into the gash she had just made, before scattering the rest upon his lips. Netya knew from experience that healing medicines worked best when used upon open wounds, but she had never seen the same done with spirit herbs before. The effect was quick. No sooner had Adel wiped her hands clean and motioned for the others to leave than Kin's eyes started to take on a hazy quality, his shoulders straining against his bonds as he jolted in shock at the sudden rattle of a bone chime nearby.

"What is this?" He whispered, running his tongue over his lips and spitting, eyes snapping open and shut as if he had just awoken from a dream.

Netya lingered, wanting to go to him, to reassure the man that there was nothing for him to fear in the spirit world. But she knew this was not what Adel wanted. To Kin, everything he saw that night would be real, and he would have no mentor to guide him through it. Alone with the dark spirits summoned by the clan's totems, he would face all the nightmares the forest had to show him.

"Come," Caspian said quietly, tugging her away from the chilling scene. "We will take care of him in the morning."

"Netya," Kin groaned, and to her regret she looked back one last time to see him staring wide-eyed at one of the bird skull totems hanging from the trees. She had no way of knowing what he was seeing, but his damp face was marred with terror. "What are its feathers... why does its skin..?"

She forced herself to turn away, trying to shut out the pleading cries that echoed after her, mingling with the tinkle and tap of the chimes and the creaking sound of Kin's arms straining against their bonds.

—32—

Daughter of the Moon

Netya was a quick-witted young woman, but that, Caspian realised, was not what made her a good seer. At least, he did not think so. A seer was not just a guardian of spiritual knowledge or a keeper of herbs and healing secrets; she was a caregiver to her clan. It was why the head of their order had always been referred to as mother, after all.

No, it was Netya's capacity for kindness that made her so well suited to her calling. Caspian was not one to hold grudges, but even he had been unable to suppress a faint surge of vindication at Kin's punishment. And yet Netya, the very one who had been wounded by him, had been the first to hurry down from the den as soon as dawn kissed the peaks of the valley. She could not bear to sit idle while others suffered, and before anyone else had so much as passed a word of gossip about Kin she had reappeared leading the shaken young man back home by the arm.

Caspian could not help but smile, letting out a long, contented breath as they hove into view. Even in the darkest of times she had a habit of appealing to the best parts of him. After seeing her show such compassion for the fool who had wounded her, Caspian could not in good conscience hold on to his ill will toward Kin either. He rose from his seat by the communal fire and went to meet them, giving the other man a reproachful, but good-humoured look as he approached.

"You survived your night in the spirit world, then?" he said.

Kin nodded absently, his usual careless confidence in short supply that morning. His eyes had a hazy look to them, jittery and distant. The paleness of his face and the quivering of his hands spoke of a troubled night indeed. He had scraped his wrists raw against their bonds.

"The things you see in the spirit world cannot harm you, not physically," Netya tried to reassure him. "They are the same as your dreams."

"They were more real than my dreams," Kin replied in a dry voice.

"But no more dangerous. You will start feeling better once you have something to eat and get a little rest."

The young man shook his head abruptly. "No. I can't sleep. The spirits will be there. Those birds."

"You have to sleep eventually. Come and sit with us, it will all feel like nothing more than a bad dream before long."

Caspian offered Kin an arm to lean on and helped him to a warm spot at the edge of the fire. "Your brothers will be awake soon. I am sure they will all want to know what demons you battled in the forest last night."

A sickly look passed over Kin's face. "They will think me a weak coward. Bad enough they see me as a fool. Even Eyan has no respect for me any more."

"Then now is the time to start earning it back," Caspian replied. "Great men are not born from nothing, they are made by the trials they face. From the looks of you, you faced a trial greater than anything your brothers have ever endured last night. Whether they see you as a coward or not will depend on how you let it shape you."

Caspian's words finally seemed to break through Kin's hazy-eyed fear. He blinked a few times, then nodded.