Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels (13 page)

Kavio gave her his full attention. “Give up on your nephew? Strange advice from a loving aunt.”

“There’s something you should know about Gremo,” she said. “Something Gremo himself doesn’t know. He was fathered by the spear. Blue Waters warriors came up the river and raided our clanhold. When Ruga found out an enemy left his hate in her belly, the Tavaedies gave her a drink to rid her of the poison, but though she drank it, the kicking in her belly did not stop. When the babe was born, she was advised by all to return the thing to the river, and let it float back to him who made it. She took the babe to the river, and threw it in, but when she saw it start to turn blue she fished it out. They told her again to get rid of the spawn of our foes when Gremo started toddling and talking. She tied him to the black stone of the Deathsworn one night, but in the morning, when she found him still there, again she took him back. All were disgusted by her weakness, but there was nothing we could do. No one was surprised when the spear’s spawn grew wrong.”

“There’s no law in the light or shadow that says a woman must void a child she wants, even if she was raped,” said Kavio. “Or are you telling me that someone hated the baby so much it might have been a motive for the hex?”

“I’m just telling you.”

“Unless it can help me solve the puzzle, I don’t care who Gremo’s father was. It’s not his father’s spear a man throws in battle, but his own.”

“You arrogant boy.” Kuruga curled her hands into fists in her lap. “I know your kind. You are young, strong, headstrong. No doubt you’ve led raids on your clan’s enemies and earned a fine Shining Name. You probably have some rival, as young and strong and headstrong as you. Like two bucks, you locked horns and he drove you off for a time. But you plan to go back, fight him again, and win or die trying.”

His lips curved very slightly, and he shrugged. “Your arrows hit their marks except for one. I will never go back.”

“All those weapons in your pack—don’t look at me like that, how could I not notice the sharp bits straining the leather?—and you tell me you don’t intend to fight?”

“A man needs to defend himself.”

“You have enough weapons for an army. Are you carrying an army in your pack, Outtribber? Are you carrying a war?”

“Your sister asked me here to heal, not fight,” he said. “That’s what I’ll do.”

“You’ll fail.” Kuruga said flatly. “No one can heal Gremo. Many healers have tried. None succeeded. You won’t succeed either.”

“I have to try.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just have to try. Let me ask you something. Is there anyone in the clan who hated him enough to curse him?”

“To curse him as cruelly as that? I don’t know. But to be rid of him, and the shame he brought us through his birth?” Kuruga stared hard at him. “I will tell you the truth. None of us, not even among our Tavaedies, has the power to create such a powerful hex. But among us all, only Ruga would have not wanted to.”

Kavio

Just before sunset, Kavio stood up and began to dance. He danced each of the five colors of light in the cords binding Gremo to the boulder, using his movements to lift the strands of light in an intricate series of steps. Loop by loop, he unwound the knot, until the last band of light dissolved. Kavio took his obsidian dagger and sliced apart the physical ropes, which fell away gracefully as autumn leaves.

Gremo looked up in amazement. He straightened his back and met Kavio’s eye for the first time.

“I am free,” he whispered. His cry lifted to a shout. “I am free! Ma, ma, I am free!”

Ruga ran to her son and they embraced, both crying unabashedly. Lambo clapped Kavio on the back, saying, “I knew from the first time I saw you that your powers were not fool’s gold!” Even Kuruga murmured, “I was wrong.” But she looked more troubled than pleased.

The family celebrated until the moon rose. Gremo spoke haltingly, but he smiled hugely, and even sang drinking songs with Lambo, after the beer, which did exist after all, made an appearance and filled many a bowl.

“Your son has powerful magic,” Kavio told Ruga. “Five Chromas. Perhaps that was why a jealous enemy sought to bind his power. Gremo, do you have any idea who did this to you?”

“It was my father,” said Gremo.

The other three family members shifted on the eating mat. Ruga laughed shrilly. “Impossible. Your father—“

“I know he was a Blue Waters warrior who misused you, ma,” said Gremo. “I always knew. I heard all every ugly whisper, saw every nasty stare. I don’t know how he hexed me, how he even knew I was born. But I heard him calling me to finish what he started, kill all of you, kill the whole clan, then travel to the sea and join him. I heard him telling me you deserved it for what you did. Even you, ma. Sometimes I hated you for bringing me into this world. I could have done it too. My magic was stronger than any Tavaedi in the clan. But I wouldn’t let the monster win.”

“But, Gremo…” Kuruga hesitated. “Why did he tie you to a rock if what he wanted was for you to slay the clan with your magic and then join him at the sea?”

“Monster,” said Gremo. To everyone’s embarrassment, tears made streaks in the dirt on his unwashed face. “I hate the monster.”

Kavio

The next morning, Kavio slept late. When he woke up, he heard a strange noise outside the hut. Poking his head out, he saw Gremo, grunting and waving his arms.

Kavio hopped out of the hut. “Enjoying your freedom?”

Gremo cringed, did not look at him, and did not answer.

The awkward arm-waving, with occasional kicks, continued, forcing Kavio to step back. Bands of light snaked around Gremo. Powerful magic made the air crack the way it did on the cusp of a storm. The hairs on Kavio’s arms stood on end.

“Gremo, what are you doing? Stop!”

Gremo threw back his head and howled at the sky. Spittle foamed at the corners of his lips, and his gaze, when he glared at Kavio, burned with hate. Black clouds boiled overhead out of an empty sky. Lightning crackled, touching Gremo and illuminating his aura like a blaze.

There
was
a monster. Kavio had set him free.

He rushed forward, but Gremo waved an arm and a shock of pure power knocked Kavio off his feet. He gasped for breath. The man’s strength was astounding, like a force of nature, and Kavio realized that during years of winding circles around the hut, Gremo had accumulated such power no ordinary human could subdue him.

Kavio had no choice but to try.

He rolled to his pack and groped blindly for a weapon, any weapon. He pulled out a spear head with a short haft, which he thrust up just as Gremo assaulted him again. He blooded the man, but Gremo never even slowed. He pummeled Kavio with fists of granite. Another blow like that would knock him senseless. He leaped out of the way again, and again, when Gremo kept coming, but he wasn't used to be being always on the defensive. Trying to regain control of the fight, Kavio attacked with a series of punches followed by a round-house kick.

Bad choice.

Gremo locked his leg and twisted, slamming Kavio into the dirt. Then, before he could wrest himself free, Gremo bent and lifted him up over his head and threw Kavio against the boulder that had once imprisoned him. Winds screamed in Kavio's ears, with gale force, pinning him there, helpless to stop Gremo's advance.

Then Gremo reached him and clenched his fingers around Kavio's throat.

"I am my father's son!" roared Gremo. "I will slay you and everyone in the clan!"

This would have been a good time for Kavio to come up with something heroic. If he did not, Gremo was going to snap his neck like a twig. Instead, maddeningly, Kavio felt a wave of weakness, accompanied by a flash of light, and knew that his cursed fae blood, his mother's legacy, had caught him at the worst possible moment. His eyes rolled back in his head and he surrendered to the fit and a memory.

Kavio (10 years old)

He stood behind his father, and his father's warriors. Across the defense ditch around their camp, another group of warriors stood, led by a man in headdress that sparkled with golden bangles. The man in gold was Hertio, War Chief of Yellow Bear.

"He is his father's son," said Hertio. "I demand the boy as my surety or none at all."

"I have seven sevens of men who would serve as your hostages," said Father.

"You would sacrifice them all in a heartbeat," said Hertio, "if it suited your purpose. Your son is your own blood. I think even you might hesitate to betray me if it meant his death."

You don't know my father,
thought Kavio.
He would never abandon his men. Me, on the other hand...

His father put his hand on Kavio's head.

"Please don't make me go, Father," Kavio whispered. "I don't trust him."

"Give me your hands, Kavio," Father said.

Kavio held up his wrists, and Father wound a sinew rope around them, pinching the flesh painfully. Kavio swallowed a foul taste in his mouth. There was no plea he could make, no way to save himself. Father tightened the rope into a knot.

Father pushed Kavio in front of him. Loudly, he announced, "My son will be your hostage and your slave, yours to command and yours to slay."

Kavio

Kavio snapped out of the memory. It had felt as vivid as if he'd relieved it, and Gremo stared at him wide-eyed in shock. The man had apparently shared the Vision from the past. However, Gremo shook himself free of the daze. He still held Kavio by the throat and now he lifted his other fist to deliver the killing blow.

Chapter Five

Yellow Bear

Kavio

Gremo roared again, but instead of smashing in Kavio's face or twisting off his head, Gremo tossed Kavio out of the way and threw himself on the boulder. Frantically, he assaulted the rock with his fists. At first, Kavio thought he sought to destroy the rock that had bound him for so long, but soon it became evident that, on the contrary, Gremo was using the ropes of lightning to electrify and re-weave the physical ropes that Kavio had cut apart the day before. He also coiled the lightning strands around himself and the rock, until, finally, he was more strongly lashed to the boulder than he had been before Kavio had arrived.

The blaze of light subsided; the storm clouds parted and drifted away.

Ruga, Lambo and Kuruga had all emerged from the hut at some point during the magic storm. Ruga blanched white and her mouth moved wordlessly. Lambo looked grim. Tears coursed down Kuruga’s face.

Gremo grunted and began laboriously tugging at the stone lashed behind him.

Someone pulled Kavio’s arm. Ruga.

“You healed him once,” she said. “You can heal him again.”

“I can’t.” He gently removed her hands. His whole body throbbed from the drubbing Gremo had given him. “He hexed himself, auntie. He bound his power to the rock to prevent himself from turning it against all of you.”

“He hates us that much?”

“And loves you that much. It’s a knot I cannot untangle. I’m sorry.”

With her fists she beat his chest, screaming, until Lumbo pulled her away. Kavio glanced at Kuruga, who still silently wept.

“You knew,” he said.

“I knew of his hate, but not of his love. Maybe…maybe when I tell the others in the clanhold, they will look differently at him. Maybe if we can put our rocks down, Gremo can release his.”

“And if they don’t, and he doesn’t? What will happen to Ruga? Will she live the rest of her life tending a madman walking in circles?”

“She will never abandon him,” said Kuruga. “She has bound herself as tightly as he, and he is the stone she carries.”

Kavio strapped the canoe onto his rucksack. Something had shifted inside, and poked him in the back, so he set it down and re-packed. One of the chert spearheads Nilo had given him was to blame. It was so sharp he cut himself when he moved it, spilling a few drops of blood on the leather. He sucked the finger, then re-shouldered the pack. This time it fit, and he even found the weight comforting.

Kavio

Over the following days of travel, Kavio struggled to put the disquieting episode with Gremo behind him. The secret of a peaceful journey was not to interact with other people. He resolved not to.
Thank you, Rthan,
Kavio smiled grimly to himself as he paddled.
Your boat has eased my journey tremendously.

He had other difficulties, however. Travelers, moving in well protected groups, streamed toward the tribehold. Kavio caught glimpses of them on the trail parallel to the river: Tavaedies guarding Initiates. What arrested his attention was that some of the Initiates wore the distinctive hexachrome-maze-on-white of Rainbow Labyrinth tribesfolk. Were they slaves? Exiles? Traitors? Not that he was in a position to throw judgment stones, but none of the possibilities sat well with him.

They also slowed his progress because each time he saw other travelers he hid his canoe in the tangled shrubs by the shore until they left. Life would be so much easier in a world devoid of people, he reflected, as he poled his canoe into a hidden pool. Up ahead, a tree had fallen across the river, forming a mossy bridge, and someone stood there.

A young woman.

To his surprise, she was alone. She’d left her backbasket and outer garments on the bank. Her hair tumbled free, long and rich, as she began to cartwheel to and fro across the log. The sun set on the river behind her, turning her into a silhouette. She gave the impression, not of a Tavaedi performing a ritual, but of a faery at play, to whom handsprings, backflips and hand stand splits were as natural as walking. Her grace and strength made him catch his breath and forget to release it.

She must be from the Rainbow Labyrinth tribehold, he thought. Nowhere else in Faearth were children tested for magic at age seven; everyone else tested during Initiation. This was foolish, he’d always felt, because fourteen was too late. This woman had obviously been practicing since she was a child. His imagination built a whole life for her, from her successful testing at seven, to years of acclaim and danger. He wondered how many Chromas she had, and how many men had already begged her to marry them. He wanted to let the current carry him under her bridge, to ask her how she felt growing up as a prodigy—had people mocked her for it, as they’d mocked him when he’d come here as a child Tavaedi? Were they jealous of her skill, as they had been of his, did their resentment force her to build a wall of stone between her and a world of idiots? Would she hold her hand out to him and invite him to join her on the bridge?