Llewellyn’s Song (3 page)

Her eyes snapped open and she let her breath out with a
hiss. Better stay alert. Using her chi, she examined her wounds. Jaw, shoulder,
ribs, kidney, back… That gave her pause. Healing backs took a long time and a
great deal of chi. She hoped that whoever had saved her had a troop of healers.
Her leg also had shattered. Pain came and ebbed in waves, and she spent some time
and precious energy trying to control it. But her wounds were too severe.

The best thing to do would be to rest and gather her
strength. She called forth the powers of the earth, thankful that whoever had
found her had not moved her from the ground. Slowly she drew energy from the
stones, sucking it to her like water from a sponge. The earth magic would help,
but she needed more. Her life still hung from a spider’s thread. Closing her
eyes, she sent a prayer to the Earth Mother asking for strength. She had to get
back to her clan and warn them of the danger in the mountains. A behemoth
roamed nearby. A shiver made her ill for a second. Despite the fact that her
rescuer had chased the behemoth away—it would return. A bow and arrows, as
clever as they may be, could never kill a behemoth.

The Enemy

When she next opened her eyes, her first thought was to
berate herself. She’d fallen asleep despite her determination to stay awake.
She shifted, and intense pain hit her. Her mind skittered from the pain and she
nearly blacked out again. Then she got hold of herself and managed to look
around.

The fire burned high and she’d been moved. Now she lay on a
bed of woven willow branches, a finely woven blanket over her body, keeping her
warm. Someone had set her leg and she could tell her bones had started to mend
by the difference in the pain. No longer a dull and sickening feeling, rather
it had gotten sharper and had started to itch. She tried to flex her fingers
but still her body refused to obey her. However, she could feel her body now—the
nerve endings had started their slow healing. Relief washed over her, and she
trembled suddenly. Her teeth chattered.

“I made you some tea.”

The voice came from behind her. Low, deep, deeper than any
voice she’d ever heard, it raised the fine hairs on her back of her neck. She’d
prepared herself to see him, but in her helpless, weakened position, panic
seized her. A man! She’d never set eyes on a man. Her clan never allowed men
into their territory unless it was in specific places set up for trading and
weddings, and they told terrible stories about what happened if a man caught
you in his lands, and what men did to women in their countries. Not all men
were mindless brutes, her clan mother had told her daughters. Some came to
trade, and some came with news of other countries. But best be wary and treat
most men like brutish enemies, which was how her clan considered them. And one
stood right behind her.

Llewellyn watched as the woman awoke. She grimaced with
pain, then looked around, taking in her surroundings. He imagined her fear must
be overwhelming, and he didn’t want to startle her. When he judged she’d
settled down, he spoke and stepped into her line of sight.

Cool gray eyes studied him carefully. There was no sign of
fear in her gaze, only a quiet watchfulness. He had never seen a d’ark t’uath,
so he didn’t know if her kind considered her a beauty, but each time he saw her
his breath caught in his throat. Her finely chiseled bones appeared fragile,
but she’d survived an attack by a behemoth, and mended quickly. Already her
pulse beat strongly and her breath no longer whistled in her throat.

Carefully, he held a straw to her lips so she could drink
the infusion he’d prepared. It would give her strength and help her heal. She
took a tiny sip and her eyes widened. “Are you the traders’ healer?”

He cocked his head. “Traders?”

“Yes, you came with a group of traders, didn’t you? We have
been expecting some. How fortunate you came to this side of the valley. I thank
you for saving me. When your companions return, we can move to the trading
post. The behemoth will want its cave back.”

Llewellyn had never heard such a mixture of assurance and
wariness in a voice. He nudged the straw to her lips. “Drink it all. I am a
healer, yes, but I have no companions. I travel alone.” For the first time her
eyes widened in fear, and he hastened to reassure her. “The behemoth won’t come
back, it’s dead.”

Now outright disbelief lit her eyes. How could someone have
such expressive eyes? She didn’t even need to speak. “Drink,” he said. “The
behemoth fell off the cliff and now feeds the crows.”

She drank, never taking her eyes from him. Afterwards, her
eyelashes fluttered and she slept, though it seemed she fought even that
healing sleep. Murmuring soft prayers of healing, he knelt by her side, keeping
watch. They would be there for a while yet. She thought she could be moved, but
he knew better. He didn’t have the strength to carry her down the mountainside,
and he couldn’t pull her on a travois—any sudden movement could be fatal. No,
he would stay with her until she healed. Hopefully by the full moon she would
be able to stand and he could take her to her people. Then he could go on his
mission. Already he chafed at the delay.

Bowing his head and touching the stones he’d laid on her
chest and stomach, he sang the healing song for the twentieth time that day.
His strength left him, fatigue made his head swim, but he managed to finish the
chant. Resting his head against the side of the bed, he closed his eyes a
minute. The fire warmed the cave, but he had to collect more wood for the
evening. Then he’d better find some food. The woman needed lots of food to keep
her chi strong. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the woman’s
gaze.

“I will soon be able to help you. I have called the earth
spirit to my aid and each hour sees me growing stronger.”

Llewellyn opened his mouth, intending to tell her he’d
chanted himself hoarse and his healing powers, not hers, had helped her. But
prudence held his tongue, for he knew nothing of her beliefs. Instead he said, “I
go to gather food.”

She nodded, and her eyes lit up. “I moved, did you see? I
moved! Praise the earth mother!” Her smile blinded him, then she grew serious
again. “Go, do not worry about me, elf man. But take heed, I am helpless and at
your mercy now, but if you dare take liberties with my person, when I recover I
will kill you,” she said with cold certainty.

He stopped his smile just in time. “You have nothing to fear
from me.”

“I have nothing to fear from anyone. I am Tamara, watcher
for the d’ark t’uath clan. My mothers and sisters will avenge any hurt I suffer
that I cannot avenge myself.”

“I am Llewellyn Fairnight, and I had better go now before
the sun sets.” He picked up his bow and quiver.

“Has it been three days already?” Her face paled and she
darted a glance out the cave entrance, where the sun’s last rays cast red light
upon the rocks. “Three days since I stood guard. My clan must think I too
disappeared, like the others, and now they mourn me.”

“The others?” Llewellyn paused. “What others?”

She looked undecided, then said slowly, “Some of our clan
have vanished, and strange things are afoot. The watch has doubled…” Her voice
trailed off. “Some say there is a new wizard in the mountains, and that he has
spell-cast demons to his side. Our clan remembers the last war, when the Mouse King’s
forces nearly overran our valley. When he was killed we rejoiced, however, it
seems new danger has come but from where or what it is, exactly, we haven’t yet
ascertained.”

“My quest takes me to Frostbone, for demons have entered
Hivernia.”

Her eyes widened. “Frostbone? Hivernia?” Lip curled, she
said, “What happens in Hivernia concerns us not. Brutish men rule that land.”

Llewellyn looked at the horizon, where the sun was no more
than a sliver of scarlet. “I have to go. We will speak of this later.”

“I will speak of it if I wish,” said the woman, closing her
eyes.

He almost told her she’d speak of it whether she wished or
not, but something told him that he’d better be circumspect, or risk losing her
trust. He left the cave and darted into the cover of the trees. Evening fell,
and a fat buck drank at the waterhole he’d found. But the buck would be too big
and he hadn’t the time to smoke meat. He waited patiently as the sky darkened
until a pheasant wandered to the water’s edge. Then, with a prayer of thanks to
Mistral, he shot the bird.

Roasting on the spit, the pheasant made Llewellyn’s mouth
water. But most of all, he wanted to sleep. Tamara slept deeply, but she might
awaken and need him. He had to stay alert. He’d blocked the cave’s entrance
with branches from a thorn tree, and, in the unlikely case another behemoth
came, he’d piled a heap of dry tinder near the branches that he could set on fire
to chase the beast away. Tamara had mentioned ice demons too, but it had to get
much colder before they left their northern home. He still had three months
before dead of winter. Three months to find Frostbone and find out what pushed
the ice demons south and what evil made behemoths leave their mountain refuges
far to the northeast.

* * * * *

Tamara watched beneath lowered lashes as the elf man moved
around the cave and wove a rack to smoke some fish he’d caught. Didn’t he ever
sleep? It worried her, for some reason, to think that men didn’t sleep. It
would give them an unfair advantage over women. Was that how they’d subdued her
sex in other lands? Then there was the question of size. He must be almost
twice her size. That didn’t mean anything except that they surely dominated
their women by size and strength, giving them no rest and beating them into
submission.

Her heart beat faster, but she didn’t move. He thought she
slept, and she wanted to examine him more. He moved back into her line of
sight. Straight black hair tied back with a leather strip. Skin burned brown by
the outdoors. A patch covered one eye, the other eye caught the light and
glittered like a dark amethyst. He turned and stared straight at her and for a
moment she thought he’d seen she was awake, but he turned back to his task.

His hands moved deftly and the rack soon took shape. Laying
it against the wall, he took the fish he’d laid by his side and hung them on
the rack. Fascinated despite herself, Tamara watched the first man she’d ever
seen up close. The differences fascinated her. His shoulders seemed so broad,
and his hands, with their tendons standing out as he worked, looked strong and
capable. She shivered, a strange tremor running through her. At that slight
movement he looked up, his eye dark with concern.

“Are you feeling better?” He got up with a fluid movement
and was at her side in an instant.

Her stomach contracted, but she let none of her fear show
through. Her clan mother had said often enough, “Never let them see your fear,
otherwise the brutish males will ravish you”.

Tamara studied him, but he only looked concerned, not
aggressive. You never knew though. “I feel much better. When will you take me
to the trading post?”

“Your wounds are too grievous, if you receive another shock
you won’t survive.”

She heard the truth in his words. Her chi, drained by the
effort of healing herself as fast as she could force it, would not last.
Especially if she were jolted. She had to be patient. “You said you wanted to
speak to Frostbone. How is it you know the ice demon king?”

A shadow passed over his face. “I fought in the last war
against the Mouse King. Before, I hadn’t realized the ice demons even had a
king.”

She sneered. “You wouldn’t, coming from Hivernia. The fae
never bother to learn anything about the world to the north, except when it
happens to bother them.”

“As far as I know, d’ark t’uath are part of the fae kingdom.”
He spoke quietly but his one eye flashed.

The d’ark t’uath part of the fae kingdom? She shuddered. “You
know nothing then. We come from the east, whereas you came from the sea, from
the south.”

Her words must have surprised him, for his eyebrow shot
upwards. “That’s part of our legends, yes, but we have lost all trace of our
ancestors, and have never found them again. Ships sailing south rarely return,
and when they do they bear stories of huge sea monsters and tempests, but no
land. It’s as if we came out of nowhere. How is it that you know of this?”

“Our winters are long, and our legends many and oft told. As
for the creatures you call ice demons, they are not true demons, being made of
flesh and blood, though their flesh may be icy and their blood a poison ichor.
But I forgive your ignorance. In Hivernia, ice demons must be rare. How is it
you know of Frostbone?”

“When my brother and I defeated his dragon, we freed the ice
demons from the Mouse King’s control. Frostbone came to see me.”

Surprise rendered her speechless an instant. “Your brother
and you defeated the Mouse King’s dragon? Rog? You fought Rog?” At her words
the skin on his face tightened but he never blinked. “After Rog, I imagine a
behemoth seemed child’s play.” Why did she needle him? He’d saved her, nursed
her, and obviously hadn’t come all the way from Hivernia to play healer. She
drew a deep breath. “I apologize. It’s none of my business why you’ve come
seeking Frostbone. I would hear more of the battle you fought with your
brother, for our clan speaks of it but as a legend.”

For a minute she thought he would not reply, then he bowed
his head. “There is little to say. The battlefield was immense, but Rog
dominated it, towering over both armies. As my brother and I fought on the west
wing, with the archers, we saw the prince’s battalion attack the dragon.
Suddenly there came a stroke of luck. In the distance, we saw the Mouse King
fall from Rog. In the confusion, my brother and I found ourselves facing the
beast.” He stopped and looked toward the fire. “It was either kill or be
killed.”

“Is that how you lost your eye?” She wanted him to look at
her again. She found his face…intriguing.

Instead he stood and moved behind her, and from the sound of
it he took his bow and arrows. “I lost my eye and my brother that day. So if
you’ll excuse me, you’ll have to content yourself to your clan’s legends. I
will speak of it no more.” He passed in front of her on the way out of the
cave, but didn’t turn around. His cloak swirled out as he turned the corner,
and then he disappeared.

Disappointment prickled her, and something else. It was
almost as if she didn’t want him to leave her. The thought gave her pause. No,
that couldn’t be right. She had better focus on getting well now.

Alone, Tamara lay on her cot and tried to concentrate on
healing her bones. She gathered her chi and linked it with the power of the
stones surrounding her, taking comfort and force from the earth. The sooner she
healed, the sooner she could leave. But the thought of never seeing the tall,
one-eyed elf again sent a pang of sorrow through her. Stunned, she let go of
her chi. It ebbed back into her body like water into sand but she hardly
noticed. How could she feel anything but scorn for the enemy? Instead, she had
the strangest, strongest longing to see him again, to hear his low, deep voice,
and to feel his hands as they rested on her body.