Hunter and Fox (21 page)

The griffon beat his wings, making the sand swirl, and Talyn had to steady herself as best she could. “Time is short, Drynis. The Caracel begins and we must feed.”

The centaur stepped closer, and those huge hooves struck the earth with intense menace. “You are right, my friend. Our Lords command and we must obey—but I will bring a gift.”

Talyn readied herself. This would end quickly. Her only thought was of the Golden Puzzle and how everything she had strived for would end.

He moved no closer. Instead he raised his hands and those eyes burned brighter. “In the name of Chaos.”

Every nerve suddenly exploded. Lightning flashed inside Talyn's head as the agony of a thousand Vaerli leapt to life inside her. She had wished fervently for the Second Gift, the empathy she only dimly remembered. Now, it was abruptly turned against her. Unlike the flash from her brother, this was from all her kin. Every little bit of anger, fear, and hurt found a place inside her. The Gift was turned against her, and she screamed—finally taken by that which she had never expected. The world dissolved into terror, and when darkness finally took her it was a kind of relief.

I
f there was one comfort that remained to Equo, it was Nyree's hand in his as they struggled through the sea of angry and desperate people toward the port. Several times he had thought he'd lost Si, Varlesh, and the children they carried. Yet somehow they kept together—even through the sweat of fear and the atmosphere of panic.

It was not just emotion that clouded the air, but also smoke blowing toward the lake. Depending on how the wind blew, they were either choked by it, or slightly revived by the competing breeze coming off the water.

Above, the great circling birds of prey of the Swoop provided a terror-inducing presence. They had once been the harbingers of the Scion of Right but were now used by the Caisah as a weapon of fear and destruction.

Nyree spared a glance up, and a flicker of horror passed across her brow. She must have seen them in better times.

Together with Si and Varlesh, Equo locked arms and tried to push the crowd toward the shoreline.

Nyree raised her voice. “To the water, my friends—we must get to the water if we want to live!”

Those immediately around them calmed a little hearing her familiar voice, but there were too many terrified people for them all to take notice. Folk who would have made rational decisions only minutes ago were reduced to primal creatures driven by smoke and fear.

“Crone's hairy whiskers, keep to the main streets,” Varlesh yelled in Equo's ear as they were pushed and pulled in the swelling mob. He jerked his head to where some people had been funneled into the smaller alleyways, and it was immediately apparent the fire would find them before they could free themselves. Varlesh caught a glimpse of tears running down Nyree's face—but they were not of fear, they were of grief. Luckily, the mob prevented her from going back, or he suspected she would have.

They made it to the jetty, where there was even more panic, for the Swoop had set fire to the boats. The Portree owned very little, but these vessels were their livelihood and how they measured family, and now everything, from the smallest coracle to the twin-masted fishing vessels, was in flames. The Swoop circled above, watching their handiwork, like beautiful vultures.

Nothing remained to any of the people here; given the choice between a fiery death and the water, they chose the water. Many leapt off the collection of jetties and piers, while others rushed through the sand to the waves. The lake was their natural home and now they were swarming toward it, wading out into the sucking mud, and carrying their children on their backs. Indeed, several carracks seemed not that far away.

Equo moved forward to join them, but Si held out a restraining hand before he got very far.

The Caisah had many creatures, not only in the skies, but also under the water. A terrified woman who had been the first into the lake was the first to cry out. Her scream was high pitched, horrified and disbelieving. She raised a hand as if waving to those on shore, and disappeared under the water. Then she reappeared a moment later, hysterically calling for help. The waves frothed with blood when she went down a second time. She did not reappear.

Now the water became as panicked as the land; people splashed about, screaming, unsure where they should go. It was perfectly horrific, just the way the Caisah liked things. Those who miraculously survived this day would never forget it—and would remember not to challenge him again.

The crowd was in danger of breaking the pier. Equo's small group, tightly huddled together, were close to being pushed into the heaving water or being trampled under the feet of those still on land.

Nyree grabbed hold of Equo. He held onto her fingers, knowing they would likely not survive long. The two children clutched them, almost beyond terror.

“Well, I for one will not die like this,” Varlesh bellowed, cutting through the screams and shouts with real anger. “We show what we can do now, or lose everything!”

Equo reached out with his other hand to catch hold of Si's, then he in turn reached out and grabbed Varlesh. The sensation of Nyree's fingers vanished—there was only the line of men. The sound and horror of the world faded into a muffled drone which seemed as insignificant as a bee in the flowers. It was a kind of bliss to fall into their old ways.

They had not done this for many years, perhaps generations of other people. In the back of Equo's mind was the certain knowledge that performing a Union right now would bring the Caisah's attention. But these people could not die today while they watched.

Varlesh let the hum begin in his chest, a tuneful throaty noise that passed along to Equo. In his throat he gave it shape and form, a melody was traced through it. Then onto Si it went and it was his mouth that let it out into the world. It was a joyous sound; for though they had not practiced the song for an ancient time, it was still as fresh and beautiful as from the first day. The Union erupted from Si's throat, a rain of exquisite music sweeter even than the Vaerli's
maie atuae.
For indeed it was their people who had taught Nyree's the greatest joy in music. His people were bards: the only true bards.

Even if there were dire consequences, it felt like bliss to hear the Union raining about them. The people were stopping. Even those in the water could not hold onto panic when the music washed over them. Through them it passed, speaking of the fragility of flesh but also of its beauty and its wonder. Few words there were in the Union, yet those that there were spoke of the triumph of hope and determination over loss and weakness.

The body is the glass through which we see the world.

Si's song brought the mob to a halt. They listened, swaying. Their cheeks, to a person, wet with tears.

Nyree clutched the children to her and wept without sound. Her eyes were raised to the sky but what she saw there she did not share. The Union would be hard on her most of all, with the loss of the Second Gift.

Equo looked up too, seeing the Swoop flutter in strangely disarrayed patterns as the song reached them. Peregrines, falcons, and vultures squawked and cried their piercing cries. From high above a thick powerful form with great hooked talons dived down in a mass of screaming feathers. But even the Whitefoam eagle's magic could not break the Union. Instead, Azrul the Commander of the Swoop shed her avian form in a flutter of white light and there before them was the scion of the Lady of Wings.

Equo could see a certain raw-boned youthful beauty in her face. The Union showed them everything. It pulled back the pretensions people liked to build around them and displayed the communality that all creatures of flesh shared. She was blinking the huge burnished gold eyes of the eagle she'd been and swaying slightly to the sound pouring from Si's mouth. As the music went on, the gold gave way to brown in her eyes.

Varlesh tugged at Equo's arm, gesturing out to the lake but voicing nothing to break the Union. Equo nodded affirmation.

His companion's chest filled with another note: deeper and more powerful, a stirring sound that rattled the bones. He passed it on to Equo, who threaded it with the melody of command, the call of the Union to flesh to obey. Then Si took it and gave it words of gentle demand.

The waters heaved and bent as the previously deadly bodies with their silvery leather backs rose to the surface, forming a bridge across the waves. The backs of the killers would lead them across the harbor beyond the rocks, to where the fire could not reach.

The three men, singing the Union between them, led the way, stepping easily on broad wet backs. Below them beat the hearts of predators, but the Union held.

The people by the lake followed eagerly after, willing to accept the hand of salvation even if it did come in an unexpected shape. Parents hoisted their children high and carried them nervously over the strange bridge. Friends and neighbors helped each other cross, faces full of fear and joy.

Nyree came last, her eyes glazed and thoughtful, and her feet sure on the backs of monsters. She stepped down next to Equo on the sandy shore opposite the harbor and looked back. The captain of the Swoop was a small figure from here, but she did not move. Azrul the Whitefoam eagle for once did not know what to do. Si let the Union fade. The music filtered away on the wind. The people sighed, released from its hold, suddenly aware of what had just happened. It was very few to have saved from the whole city, hundreds rather than thousands.

The creatures of the deep, the dark demons of the waves who had been summoned for other purposes than that of the Union, sank back into the water and disappeared.

Azrul, too, was released. Leaping into the air, she was enveloped in a blaze of white light, becoming once more the powerful form of the eagle. Her call when it came was somehow both defiant and mournful. The charcoal gray cloud of the rest of the Swoop condensed around her. Then she was gone, flying to her master, disappearing back into the smoke above the city.

The trio of men stood a little apart, but still Varlesh drew the others farther away from Nyree, his eyes somber as stones. “Azrul will tell him, even if he didn't feel our magics.”

Equo nodded, feeling the euphoria of the Union wearing off. “But, what will he do is the question…”

Varlesh rubbed his eyes wearily. “He most likely suspected the Ahouri were not dead, but this time he has proof. He's losing interest in the Vaerli, and now he will think we started the rebellion. What do you
think
he will do?”

They stared bleakly at each other. Si took their hands. “It was time. It was the right time for us.”

It wouldn't make death any easier, but Equo smiled. “It was good to sing the Union again.”

“Aye.” Varlesh chuckled. “Good to know that it is still there and we haven't totally forgotten.”

Equo looked down at their hands: Varlesh's thick and broad, marred with calluses; his own long and tapered with fingers made for music or writing; and Si's soft as a child.

“We will endure,” Si reminded them. “As before.”

“Yes.” Equo relaxed a little. “We are still well protected. He may search all he likes. He will find no trace of our people.”

“Equo?” Nyree's voice interrupted their reverie. They jumped and danced apart. Outsiders sometimes mistook their odd relationship for something else entirely. But the Vaerli obviously had more concerns on her mind. “I need to talk to you.”

He stepped away, making what he hoped was a warning expression to Si and Varlesh while Nyree's back was turned.

He was expecting a thousand questions, or at least a comment or two on the unexpected magic they had just performed. Instead she led him toward the water's edge and pulled up the edge of her sleeve. “What do you think of that?”

On the delicate underside of her wrist was a faint blue line of the flowing text of the Vaerli. It twirled a short distance down where the veins disappeared under her shirt. He couldn't help running a fingertip along that line and shivered at the feeling of her soft skin. “It's very pretty.”

“I suppose it may be, but it wasn't there this morning. And in fact, though I can't be sure, I think it wasn't there until you sang.” There was real fear in her voice.

“You know what it means, then?”

She sighed, tugging down her sleeve, and dropped her eyes away from his. “There were always two Seers of the Vaerli, one made, one born. I was to be the made one, the
Hysthshai
, for my generation. I was the apprentice of Putorae…”

“The one killed by the Caisah?”

“The very same: the last of the seers. I had not yet begun to receive the
pae atuae
, the word magic that all the
Hysthshai
are marked with. But I had studied by her side for all of my childhood. I was ready.” She sighed heavily. “But Putorae was killed, the born seer was not revealed, and the
pae atuae
did not appear. Then we had more concerns than the lack of seers.”

Equo wanted to hold her and offer some meager comfort against the pain which was obviously resurfacing. For a second his hand hovered above her turned back, but he lowered it awkwardly. “We have to help these people right now, Nyree.” He reminded her of her duty instead.

“But that is it,” she replied quietly. “Putorae saw many things in the future and I was the one to learn them all. In the few weeks before she went to the Caisah, she was troubled by these visions. Today you made one of them come to pass, the revelation of the Ahouri.”

Equo's throat went dry. He hadn't really expected Nyree not to know, she was both ancient and well educated.

She had turned while he was standing there stunned and now she was holding him fast with her peerless eyes.

“There were things Putorae knew,” she said. “Things not all Vaerli did. She told me of our greatest horror, and it does not wear the Caisah's face. I cannot say more, but I fear that if this vision has appeared, it heralds that the rest may come to pass also.”

The tone of her voice, an odd dark look, and Equo suddenly realized she suspected him of something sinister. He pulled back, disturbed that she did not perceive the truth of his nature.