Shadow Over Avalon (38 page)

“Suppose Harvesters heard our thoughts? I’m not that lonesome for company.”

Copper replied with a wicked grin. He took her reins to bring them both to a small stream among trees where they tied their mounts. Both returned to the tree line to watch one lone horseman leaving High Fort, his dark skin identifying him at a distance.

“He’s going to be very disappointed when he finds our stream doesn’t have a wild mint flavor,” Copper said.

“I had to have some way of making this place special, and our stream has mint growing close. He can always crush some leaves in his hands before he cups them to drink.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought, just as soon as he gives you a piece of his mind you don’t want.”

Shadow shrugged. They both watched High Fort to see if he’d acquired followers. Rowan appeared to be free from pursuit. Copper signed to pull them back to the stream.

“Why?” Shadow asked sitting down on a fallen tree trunk.

“He’d react to people lurking in bushes. In plain view, there won’t be a problem.”

Copper was right. Rowan entered the glade, reining in when he spotted the two grotesquely altered people. He drew his weapon, advancing with extreme caution. Copper moved to sit by Shadow, wrapping his sword arm around her waist.

“By the Seven Hells! Copper . . . is that you?” Rowan looked at them through narrowed eyes. His shoulders relaxed.

“How did you guess?”

“Shadow’s blonde hair. No one else would dare to touch her with any hope of living. Will that muck wash off?”

“It’s permanent, until we grow new skin,” Copper said.

“There’s a good reason?”

“It works on Shades as well. Given no one really looks at us in Forts, they’ll pass.”

Rowan dismounted, almost running to the water. He spat out the first mouthful to glare at Shadow. “Take whatever you did away right now.”

“I can’t. You’ll have to make do.”

Looking furious, Rowan snatched up a handful of mint to cram into his mouth, chewing, spitting out before he tried to drink again. His face registered immediate relief.

“Don’t you ever,
ever
do such a thing to me again. If I find I can’t drink beer without chewing weeds, we’re going to fight.” He glared at Copper. “You’re King. You keep her in line.”

Copper shrugged. “It was necessary. We wanted you, not any hangers on.”

Still glaring, Rowan fished in his clothing to toss a small pouch. Copper caught it midair, opening it to tip tokens into his hand. These discs weren’t the usual blank variety Alsar used as barter in his fairs. One side bore a good resemblance to his head in profile, and the other held the likeness of a crown.

“Alsar’s gotten creative. Priests allow it? Rather close to being proscribed as a living image,” Copper said.

“He has permission. The idea may even have come from them, but I haven’t found out for certain. These pretties are aimed at us. This is how we’re paid now, but when we try to barter them . . . surprise, surprise, ten from us is worth one from a fort dweller.”

“This is serious,” Copper said. “Any reason why?”

“As near as I’ve pieced together, it was Shadow’s apparent drowning last year. Priests became upset that one of us got close to their inner sanctum.”

“My doing, I’m afraid,” a deep voice said, from a nearby thicket.

Cloying dampness and the scent of wet dirt curled around Arthur in the mist-shrouded night. Warriors with naked swords joined in a circle with him. Mist wove around them and through them while they posed, frozen in time during a lull in battle. When he looked down, he had an unsubstantial body like the others, and he carried a sword.

Wolves howled, and a horn call signaled for the Wild Hunt to start.

I shouldn’t be here. This is wrong.

A star fell, growing in brilliance as it came to earth, filling his eyes with light, to draw him into another place. His body dissolved as it had countless times over, and then he fell for many heartbeats until he landed in flesh.

*

Earth Date 3875

Dragon stepped from behind a tree with his sword held point lowered. He strode around to the water, fronting the Brethren all the while. Rowan edged to the others while Copper and Shadow rose in a relaxed manner. Within seconds, they had assumed a Brethren fighting-crescent.

Shadow bit her lip to stop a cry of shock when Dragon tried to drink and repeated Rowan’s gesture of disgust. Her mind spun in sickening circles.
He’s not fey, and he isn’t a Submariner.
Reality began to slip away from her. Each passing second in this man’s presence increased her pain of loss until she entered the place of Brethren retreat, only aware of the need to survive.

*

“That weed near your left foot . . . you chew some of it to get the right flavor,” Rowan advised. “Next time we get drunk together, and I ramble on about flavor, make sure you get the full recipe before you start snoring.”

Standing behind Rowan, Copper glanced sideways at Shadow wondering if she guessed the problem, despite her blank expression under the dye. Rowan spun a very plausible, impossible lie for any Brethren, a brave attempt, riding on how much Dragon overheard before he made his presence known. They might have to kill him, or at least attempt it if he was not alone and had men in calling.

Also partly shielded by Rowan’s bulk, Shadow signed that Dragon might feel intrusion if she raided his mind.

Dragon snatched a clump of mint followed by a hand cup of water, combining both. Some tension eased out of his face the moment he swallowed. “Not drunk now, are you, or dumb? Good trick to gain sympathy,” he sneered, alluding to alcohol indulgence loosening Brethren tongues.

“No trick of ours, just a part of our punishment.” Copper kicked a dead branch out of his fighting perimeter. He didn’t want to fight Dragon, but he was going to win if he did. “When we’re cast out we lose the ability to talk straight in forts so that we don’t contaminate righteous worshipers. Outside contains too many other defects and mutations for such a curse to hold. Priests would be obliged to silence saurians if they wanted us dumb here.”

“Now that you know, what are you planning to do?” Rowan asked, quiet-voiced.

All hung on Dragon’s answer. A breeze sighed through leaves, rustling the trees and bringing a faint coolness to the humid air.

“Report you to the priests, unless I get a straight answer.” He looked at Rowan. “One of your people drowned at High Fort last year. What did you do with the body?”

Rowan shrugged. “Why the interest in a corpse?”

“I heard talk of an ‘apparent drowning’. I need to be sure of the death. My single thrust through the heart would’ve been quicker and more certain.”

Shadow’s sudden gasp turned Dragon’s hard eyes on her for the first time. “So she lives. Now I see a reason for hiding your faces under dye. Priests want her alive. Give her to me for a swift ending and they’ll ease off the rest of you.”

“Even if we agreed, you couldn’t take this one in a fight.” Rowan shifted into a battle-ready stance, a minute adjustment that no-one but Brethren might notice. “You’ve fought with me . . . I can’t take her.”

“Lies. She wasn’t that good.” Dragon’s sword point raised a few finger spans.

“She’s trained with our best. You’d last about six heartbeats, if that. Your death is going to stir more grief for us. We can’t permit it.” Rowan gripped the hilt of his sword, easing it out of the sheath a hair’s breadth.

“So you’re telling me to swallow my honor? Including her in the mantle of Brethren protection isn’t going to help you when Alsar’s scheme spreads to other forts. Is she worth slow starvation?”

Copper moved forward a pace to clear ground. “None of us will sacrifice another. We’ve all suffered too much at fort hands to give over one of our kind to torment. Remember, we’re used to living off the land. You people aren’t used to the filthy tasks you have assigned to us.”

A pheasant broke cover, startling them all with its noisy flapping. The lazy drone of insects filled a charged silence.

“Your choice.” Dragon’s faced paled. He took a deep breath, as if getting his temper under control. “We’ll manage without your services. Be sure I’ll have her cut down if I catch her alone.”

Rowan’s fingers flickered behind his back in sign language:
‘Alone is the key, he hasn’t got any backup. Do we take him?’

“We’re agreed then.” Copper gave Rowan the signal to stand down by that phrase. “She stays out of your range.”

“I know you. I’ve fought with you.” Dragon looked past Rowan at Copper.

“Aye, and I’ve always won. For your sake I’ll add my warning to my brother’s.” Copper gestured to Shadow. “I can best her, just. Don’t think your luck is going to hold because of gender. Our sisters are just as lethal . . . more so in her case.”

“I’m terrified.” Dragon’s face twisted into a sneer.

“Be so.” Another gust of wind ruffled Copper’s hair. “We always know when we’re about to gain a new brother. Be good, Dragon, very good. Your band status is uncertain, right now. Oh, and don’t blab to priests about any threats—this isn’t one . . . or they may decide to act on the spot. You would be a valuable acquisition for us, but it is up to you.”

“Keep her then. I’ll be waiting for my chance.” Dragon began a careful retreat, his sword raised to chest height. He edged through the trees, watching them until he slipped behind a bush.

Copper placed one hand on Rowan’s shoulder, warning him to let Dragon go. Rowan’s fingers flickered urgently behind his back.
‘We should take him while we can.’

“Not worth the trouble,” Copper said. “Let it ride.”

They heard the sound of Dragon’s horse pounding toward High Fort. Shadow wandered over to the water, staring at the glinting surface.

“Why?” Rowan demanded. “He was alone.”

“He has a personal score to settle too pressing for any to take his ravings seriously. We have enough problems without adding the execution of a fort leader to our score. Besides, lying low while forts cut off their own feet will give us the time we need to establish bases away from Haven.”

“Alliance is made?”

“Yes, and Helga approaches normal womanhood. I thought you’d appreciate knowing this.”

“Completely normal?” Rowan looked as if he feared to believe it could be possible.

“Our new friends think she won’t need her veils anymore, unless she’s overcome by shyness.” He noticed Shadow’s stiff movements as she knelt down by the stream. She cupped water and rinsed her face.

“And us?”

“They started with me. I’m told I’m viable, but I’m not sure how grateful I am.” Copper met Rowan’s gaze. “I freeze constantly.”

“Maybe I’ll wait until I see positive results before I lose advantage.” Rowan smirked and wandered over to the log to sit in the shade.

“I don’t suppose I can ask you to keep this to yourself?” Copper decided he felt hurt at the humor. He wondered at Shadow’s silence, dreading her reaction to Dragon.

“Not a chance . . . we’ll all be watching to see if you’re productive.”

“I’m not sure I want spectators.” Now he worried. Shadow would have jumped on him for coarse words at any other time. He tried to keep his fear to himself.

“You’re King. You hold the obligation to try first by right of rule.” Rowan’s grin got bigger until he turned to Shadow, and it faded to an expression of profound sorrow. “What about her? She’s a wreck. Dragon didn’t hold back his spite.”

“My problem to deal with.”
Hells, girl, why now? Aren’t you over him?
“We’re all relocating to Haven for a strategy meeting. You’re traveling with us since we need her for protection. Fey brothers are Harvester targets.”

Copper suddenly sensed a danger for all of them, and he guessed Rowan shared his vision since the brother looked skyward, then at the tree line, too. A strong sense of threat crushed down on him.

“I think I’d better join another group,” Rowan decided. He immediately looked more relaxed. “I’ve never had an unsought premonition before . . . have you?”

“Once or twice.” His own anxiety eased with Rowan’s decision, but the heat of the day increased in an oppressive wave. “Not nearly as strong as this one, though. Seems that we should part, since the feeling is less intense, now.”

“Exactly what kind of protection is Shadow supplying?” Rowan glanced over at her, still kneeling by the water.

“Same as the Shades: a shield for our fey powers being detected. When you find a group, stick close to a fish-man. One of us has to reach Haven.”

“Point taken.” Rowan looked once more at Shadow, and then he made a hurried departure. The sound of his horse’s hooves pounding bone-dry ground echoed in the stillness of a hot, breathless day.

Copper turned to Shadow. She stared in a mole-blind way at nothing. He knew her as well as he knew himself since their intense sharing. He retrieved their mounts from a thicket, stopping a few paces from her.

“We need to make good time if we’re to reach the shelter I intend, and there’s a storm coming.” He decided to act as if nothing were wrong. “Why don’t I lead your horse while you keep an eye on the weather?” Shadow mounted up as if in a daze. Copper watched to see she was alert enough to keep her seat before he picked up the pace.