Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (13 page)

“My son was not yours to take. He was not Alshada’s to take, or the tribe’s. He was mine and Culain’s, and we never had the chance—”

“You had him for seventeen years. More, if you consider that he visited you still after he left. He would visit you now if you would—”

“Did you just come to vex me? I can go to Edgar for that.”

Bronwyn paused. “Maeve. Why do you spew your anger on me?”

Maeve closed her eyes and folded her arms. “I’ve sensed him fight. I know he’s been in danger. I delivered him as you asked, and I was told he would be protected.”

“He is protected, but the journey is not without peril. Your son will fight many things on this path. I can tell you what was told me: your son is the only person who can perform this duty. Protections or no, it is something he is meant to do.” She paused. “Have you told him about his power yet?”

The question stabbed another painful reminder through Maeve. “You don’t know what you ask.”

“I know more than you think. He needs to know what he is.”

“I can’t. Not now. I can’t travel by air when the Ferimin haunt the skies. I can’t risk that they might find me.”

“Travel through the water, then, or stone.”

Maeve shook her head. “This isn’t just fear for him. There has never been one like him. A man with all three talents, who hunts and has human blood and tribal training—a man like that is dangerous, Bronwyn. To all of us. He could destroy mountains, rivers, oceans on a whim.”
He’s as dangerous as the reliquary.

“You cannot stop it from quickening. His power will come when the need becomes too great. It doesn’t matter how strong your blocks are. If he needs the water or the stone talent, they will come.” She paused. “You need to release him from the bond. When the Morrag calls him, your hold on him will do no good and will only wound you.”

Maeve sighed again, rubbing her temples.
I’m so tired.
“What are the tribes doing now? Minerva said she went to Hrogarth.”

Bronwyn hesitated. “I cannot say for sure, but I can tell you that Braedan’s men are traveling toward the forest. If the tribes keep the king’s men away from their own homes, they will protect yours as well.” Another screech echoed over the forest, and Bronwyn tensed. “I must go. I cannot risk exposing you. I will contact you again when I can.” She shimmered into her owl form and rose into the sky.

Maeve sat on her bed and brushed a hand over her eyes.
I should go to Edgar. I should ask for his protection. Would an alliance between the Sidh and the wolf tribe be enough to strengthen the enchantments?
She shook her head. Only Hrogarth could treat with the Sidh, and Maeve would not go to Hrogarth.
My mother would return from the great golden city herself if I went to Hrogarth.

She let out a long breath. Magic could only go so far, and even if she strengthened the enchantments around the village and allied herself with the tribes again, it would still come to naught if Alshada removed his hand from Taura. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders.
Culain, these are the times I miss you the most. I never felt alone when you were alive.

***

Minerva passed a peaceful night in Llew’s hut. He allayed her fears by promising her only a restful night’s sleep, and then he gave her wine, fruit, and bread. He washed her feet and wrapped them in sidhsilk and then rubbed the weariness out of her arms and back with Sidh warming stones. When he finally pulled the sidhsilk blankets over her and wished her a restful sleep, Minerva was only awake enough to realize that he left the hut and allowed her to sleep alone.

In the morning, he woke her with quiet tapping on the door and waited outside while she washed up and put on her boots. When they reached the boundary just before sunrise, Minerva saw her horse on the other side, still waiting patiently. She turned to Llew. “Thank you for your hospitality. You have shown me much honor.”

He took her hands. “May I tell you one thing?”

She nodded.

“You hide too many things. You run when you should share and speak.”

Few respect the words of an oathbreaker.
She pulled her hands away. “Goodbye, Llew.” She stepped to her horse, turned back, and the village was gone.

Minerva mounted and rode for the day. Tribal eyes followed her. When night fell, she found a quiet place in the trees and wrapped her cloak around her, longing for the warmth of Llew’s hut. She curled into a ball under the trees, her eyes closed, the sounds of the forest soothing her and the watchful eyes of tribesmen guarding her.
They wouldn’t let anything happen to me. The mark buys passage.
The thought was a sleepy one, and it quickly dissipated with a final yawn.

In the morning, she woke to see Edgar crouching across from her. She sat up and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Traitha.”

“I take it your meeting with Maeve didn’t go as you hoped.”

She stood and started to fold up her blanket. The magic flared inside her palm. “I am a servant of Alshada. I sought to warn Queen Maeve of unrest in Taura. I accomplished my goal. She will do as she wishes.”

Edgar chuckled. “Queen Maeve has always done as she wishes, guardian.”

“You honor me with a title that’s no longer mine.”

“You were never shed of the magic. You still own the title.” He stood and put a hand on her arm, turning her to face him. “Where will you go?”

She folded the blanket against her body and lowered her eyes. “I will seek the other sayas. I cannot stay in the forest. Hrogarth—”

“—Hrogarth holds grudges,” Edgar said. “I do not. The wolf tribe would welcome you.”

To stay with the wolf tribe? To know my sisters, my tribal brothers again?
“You cannot protect me from Hrogarth.”

“He is my traitha, but I control my tribe. Stay with us. I will put you under my protection.”

She flinched away from him. “Under your protection. You would expect me to share your bed?”

He held up a hand. “Protection only, I promise you.” He paused. “You have no obligation to me, guardian, but I have one to you.” He picked up her hand and put a small bag in her palm. Coins clinked together. “I have heard that Duke Dylan is loyal to the kirok and the heir. He may know where some of your sayas are. His holdings are in the northeast—near Starling’s Cross.”

The small purse shifted in her hands. “Traitha—”

“It isn’t much, but it will help.” He gestured toward a horse nearby. “We’ve brought you a fresh horse, and our women have given furs and clothing and food for your journey.”

Overcome, Minerva didn’t know how to respond. “How could you do this for me? For one who—”

“You are in need. That is yours whether you stay with us or go. But winter pads closer each day, and a woman traveling alone in northern Taura puts herself at great risk.” He shrugged. “Stay or go. I will not force you either way.”

She closed her eyes.
If I stay, I tempt the earthspirit. But if I go . . . . He’s right about traveling alone this time of year. And if I stay, perhaps I can have another chance to speak with Maeve. There will be no kiroks left in another moon or so. I could wait out the winter here and then look for the sayas.
She let out a long breath.
Alshada, forgive me.
“I will stay.”

Chapter Eleven

In that place, with her wounds, there was little else to identify her.

But when I touched her mind, there was no mistaking it:

The girl—this wounded thing barely more than a child—

she had the talent of a hundred of my Emperor’s best men.

— Journal of Chief Eunuch to the Emperor of the Nine Seas of Tal’Amun, Year of Creation 5993

Connor watched Mairead nock an arrow. “No, you’re drawing the string wrong.” He put his hand over hers and adjusted her fingers around the fletching. “Try that.”

She gave a terse nod. “Like this?”

“Yes.” She nocked the arrow and drew the string a few more times. “You need to draw back further, all the way to your ear. And adjust your stance.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her upper body. “Your legs, too—turn so your body is in line.” She tried to follow his instructions, but her stance was still off. “Like this.” He put his hands on her hips.

She jumped away from him. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you to shoot.”

“You don’t need to touch my hips for that.”

“I’m just trying to adjust your stance.”

She didn’t move. “Can’t you just show me?”

“I tried that. You still didn’t have it right.” He stepped closer to her. “Mairead, if you want me to teach you to fight, we’re going to have to touch each other. You have to decide right now if it’s worth it. If it’s not, we can stop. Your choice.”

She bit her lip, returned to her position, and focused on the stump. “Show me.”

He stood behind her and turned her shoulders. “Everything should be in line to the target.” He put his hands on her hips again and turned her lower body to line it up with her shoulders. “Nock the arrow again.”

“So, to that rotten stump?”

“If you can. Mastering a bow can take years. Don’t be discouraged if you can’t hit it.”

She drew the string. The bow creaked, and she released the arrow too soon. It flipped into the air over them.

Connor caught it in one hand and laughed. “Try again.”

She snatched the arrow away from him. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry. It’ll take some practice.”

She lowered the bow, nocked the arrow, and drew. Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers loosed the string. The arrow fired straight ahead, but fell far short of the target.

He gave her another arrow. “Don’t squint this time. You’ve got the form down. Keep trying.”

When she drew back the third arrow, Connor tensed.
She’s going to hit it.
She loosed the arrow, and it landed squarely in the stump with a solid
thunk
.

Mairead gasped and lowered the bow, her face alight. “I did it.”

“You did. How did you do that on your third arrow?”

“I don’t know.” She drew another arrow from the quiver. “Let me try again.”

He watched with his arms folded as she fired the entire quiver. Though not all of them hit the target, they all covered the distance to it.
She has a talent for it. Her aim will be better than mine if she practices.

When the quiver was empty, she lowered the bow. “How was that?”

“Have you done this before?”

“No, never.”

He shook his head. “I have never seen anyone learn a bow so quickly.”

Her face colored, but she smiled. He reached out to take the bow and pulled her arm toward him. She winced when he ran light fingers over the raw, red skin.
The bowstring struck her every time, and she never said a word.
“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was complaining. I’ll get used to it, won’t I?”

Complaining?
“We need to adjust your pose, but I can give you my bracers for practice. There’s no reason to shred your skin for the sake of learning the bow. I’ll buy you some of your own as soon as I can.”

“I don’t want you to buy me anything more than necessary. It’s too much to expect.”

“I have money. It’s not a concern.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Mairead. I have enough. I’ll buy you bracers and some better clothes when we come to a bigger city.”

They gathered the arrows as mist began to fall, and Mairead lifted her face to the sky.
She’s smiling. When have I ever met a woman who could smile when the clouds were pissing on her?

In the few days of travel since the ambush by the Taurin guards, Connor had discovered that Mairead’s stubbornness was exceeded only by her eagerness to learn. She asked him questions about everything he did, and though he answered at first with grudging patience, her wit and intelligence soon erased all his doubts about her abilities. He assigned her a series of strengthening exercises each day and made her walk while he rode. He pushed her to the limits of her endurance by having her hold positions until her muscles ached and she sweated and tears welled in her eyes. She never complained, and his respect for her grew each day.

The forest ebbed and flowed as they traveled along Haman’s Road. Where the forest was darkest, they camped under the trees at the side of the road, and when the trees opened to reveal a small farm or village, they took rest and shelter in some farmer’s barn or ate a meal in a tavern. The peasants were always willing to sell fresh bread, a meal, or a night under a roof.

Connor tried to keep his distance from Mairead, but it wasn’t easy. When they bedded down each night, the scent of her hair would tickle his nose, and he’d roll away from her and curse the Sidh talent that made odors so strong. She asked him to teach her to fish and cook over the fire, and whenever his hands touched hers, the ache of the Morrag faded. Her humor was easy and quick. If he occasionally teased her with a bawdy joke, she laughed and gave him a mild scolding with a twinkle in her eye.

The morning after he taught her to use the bow, he began teaching her to fight with her hands. She held her body tense at first, but the more they fought, the more she relaxed and learned to trust him. They sparred with their fists and feet every morning, and though she yelped at the occasional punch or kick, he never heard another sound from her about any of the mild injuries he inflicted. Once when they stopped at a stream, she went to the water while he adjusted the saddles. He turned to see that she had turned down the edge of her breeches to examine a large purple welt on the top of her hip. “You all right?” he asked.

She pulled the breeches up quickly, her face red. “Fine. It’s fine.”

“You can admit pain. I won’t respect you less.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt. I just wondered how bad it was.” She turned back to the stream and didn’t mention the bruise again.

The rain continued for days, falling at one moment as a fine misty spray and the next as a heavy pounding stream that drowned out all other sound. One night after they’d eaten, Mairead pulled her cloak around her and leaned against a tree. “It’s damp, but it is a pleasant sound, isn’t it?”

“The rain on the trees? I like it. I find it soothing.”

She closed her eyes. “You know those warm, humid nights Taura gets in the summer when the air is heavy with rain that won’t start?”

“Yes.”

“I used to go up on the roof of the sayada. I’d sleep under the clouds and wait for the rain. When it came, it always washed the air clean. It made me think of—” She stopped. “Never mind. It’s silly.”

“I want to hear.”

She smiled. “It made me think of the stories of the creation of the world—how the Sidh worked with Alshada, and how the stirring of the elements caused storms and earthquakes and floods until everything calmed and settled. And then Alshada sent a rain that lasted for months, and it washed the air and the earth clean and prepared it for mankind. I thought perhaps those nights were his way of reminding us of his power to cleanse the earth and everything on it.”

Connor grinned. “It’s a poetic idea, but do you know what I heard?”

“What?”

“That the innocent heir to the throne used to sneak out at night in disobedience.”

“Yes, well . . . I learned a lot that way.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated. “I know Prince Braedan was intimately acquainted with more than a few sayas. I ran into him in a passageway once in the middle of the night and he suggested . . .
 
Well . . . .” He saw her face redden even in the dim light of the campfire. “I don’t think he knew who I was. He was drunk and thought I was pretty. I convinced him to sleep off his drink, and he told me if he ever found me in a passageway again he’d . . . .” She trailed off.

Connor let silence hover for a few moments. “Mairead, Braedan is not good to women. I don’t know if he ever truly forced a woman, but he suggested many of them might pay a price if they turned him down.”

“Do you know him?”

He cursed himself.
You forget—she doesn’t know your name.
“I’ve heard stories.”

She met his eyes. “Is that the kind of reputation you have?”

“I hope not. Threats and suggestions of consequences are the same as a knife or a rope.” He paused. “I’ve been in a few battles. I’ve seen what men do.”

The fire crackled. “Have you ever—”

“The world is ugly. Men are ugly. Men after a battle are inhuman, sometimes. They see a woman, old or young, fair or ugly, and they think only to spread their seed, expend some energy, or humiliate the conquered. I’ve kicked more than a few off some woman, and I’ve—”
You can’t tell her that. Not now.

She waited, but he didn’t continue. “You’ve seen a lot.”

“Not as much as some.”

She was quiet. “I think you’re a more honorable man than you like to admit.”

Honor. A tainted name and tainted blood. That’s all I have.
“You didn’t say—why were you in the passageway in the middle of the night?”

She sighed and smiled. “I was sneaking back to my room from the library. I was up reading and didn’t want to have my privileges revoked.”

“What were you reading?”

“Military journals and treatises. Battle plans. Stories about famous battles.”

He laughed.

“Why do you laugh?”

He stared at the fire. “I don’t know. You surprise me. I should know by now that you are no ordinary noblewoman.”

After another night and day in the rain, they came to a fair-sized village and found a tavern where he thought they could order a hot meal and ale. Mairead huddled next to his shoulder as they entered. “I don’t like this place,” she whispered.

He escorted her to a table in the corner. “It’s rough, but you’ll be fine if you stay close to me.”

She watched one table where two men sat drinking and casting occasional leers in her direction. “Those men—they’re watching us.”

Connor sat up straighter. “Something you need, friend?” he asked.

A thin man with greasy blond hair stood. The odors of ale and sweat approached with him, and he nodded toward Mairead. She shrank back. “The lass—how much?”

Connor put a hand on his dagger. “What do you want her for?”

“My master, Allyn, buys pretty ’uns like her. Puts ’em in his brothels. He’d burst his pockets with the gold she’d turn.” He leaned toward Connor. “I’d pay ye well, lad.”

The Morrag croaked.
Kill him, raven. He’s evil.

Connor’s hand tightened around the dagger. Unbidden, the thought of steel sliding under the man’s ribs swam in his head.

The Morrag cackled.
So easy for you. So easy to part flesh from spirit. Rake him open, raven.

Connor shook his head
. I won’t kill him for you.
He stood, towering over the man. “She’s not for sale.” He guided Mairead behind him and backed out of the tavern, one hand on his sword until the door closed and they were both on their horses again.

Mairead was quiet the rest of the day. When they stopped to eat, she picked at her food. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s why you have me.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “I heard them when we walked in. They talked about buying children and women from their own families, capturing girls and putting them in brothels, taking men to sell into piracy.” She shook her head. “I’m going to bed.” She picked up her blanket and lay down near the fire.

Connor listened to her cry herself to sleep. He considered offering her a sympathetic shoulder, but didn’t want her to think he expected more.

The next village came into sight late the next day. Mairead was hesitant to pass through it, but Connor insisted. “You could use a hot meal and a good night’s sleep. And if you’re not comfortable with the place, we’ll leave. Fair?”

She let out a long breath and nodded. “Fair.”

As they rode into the village, they passed an alley where an old man sat begging for alms. Mairead stopped, and Connor reined in. “I’m not giving him money.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” She held out her hand. “Give me your pack.”