Rebel Fay

Chapter Fourteen

Frethfare ran from the glade with her heart pounding. She fled far into the forest before daring to find a place in which to speak with Most Aged Father. How could she tell him what had happened, what she had seen? Where would she even begin? An undead entered their land and walked freely among the people-and was now protected by Brot'an'duive.

She glanced up at the sun caught on the edge of drifting dark clouds. Within moments, the morning light faded. The forest darkened around her.An omen.

She dropped to her knees beneath a tall elm's branches and pressed the smooth word-wood to its bark. Her reluctance to report such disturbing events fell before her need for Most Aged Father's guidance.

"Father…"

I am here, daughter.

His voice in her thoughts brought some relief. "I do not know where to begin… I have failed-"

I know all. I was there as you faced this horror. Destroy it! Tell Brot'an'duive my wishes, and dispatch the smaller human woman as well. You and Sgailsheil-leache first restrain Leshil. Disable him if need be, but he is not to be permanently harmed.

Perhaps Most Aged Father had not seen everything.

"Brot'an'duive protects this undead woman," Frethfare answered, "and allowed Leshil to speak with Cuirin'nen'a. Even with En’nish’s assistance and those with her, I do not think we could overcome the Greimasg'ah if he refuses. And Leshil and this woman would side with Brot'an'duive."

The tree was silent for a long moment, and then…

Give Brot'an'duive my instructions. He will obey.

For the first time, Frethfare doubted Most Aged Father's wisdom. Perhaps he had not seen Brot'an'duive's face as the elder Anmaglahk stopped Sgail-sheilleache from going after the wild woman.

"Father, the situation is untenable. Osha is untried and in service to Sgail-sheilleache's guardianship. I do not believe they would submit even to Brot'an'duive in conflict with that purpose. And the Greimasg'ah is…"

She faltered at casting aspersions upon one of hercaste's eldest.

"Brot'an'duive is a stranger among us. Forgive my doubts, but would it not be better to lead this undead back to Crijheaiche? With those of our caste waiting, we could take her easily, especially if Leshil is to remain unharmed."

Again the tree went silent.

Yes… your wise counsel gives me great pride. Bring them to Crijheaiche.

Freth breathed easily again."In silence and in shadows."

The morning sun slipped behind thick clouds, and the promise of a fine day vanished. The sky turned gray, and the air grew chill.

Brot'an'duive knew what Frethfare would tell Most Aged Father-what she had seen and what he had done-but it could not be helped. He needed Leshil, or all the frail plans of Cuirin'nen'a andthe long lost Eillean would lead to nothing.

In the crypt of Darmouth, it was clear how much this tainted woman, Magiere, meant to Leshil. Perhaps dangerously more than the half-blood understood. Brot'an'duive could not allow her to be harmed, or Leshil would suffer and be lost from the purpose that awaited him. Brot'an'duive stayed close to Leshil and Magiere and made certain that En’nish and her companions remained far off.

It had been eight years since Brot'an'duive had seen Cuirin'nen'a, not since the night she had been banished into permanent isolation by Most Aged Father. There was too much risk in meeting with Cuirin'nen'a-for her, for himself, and for the few who supported all that Eillean had begun long ago. But the sight of Cuirin'nen'a's face with its hints of Eillean had put him off balance.

Though he had never spoken of it, perhaps the daughter suspected how much he had loved the mother. He had sacrificed so much to keep his promise to Eillean. He had sacrificed Eillean herself. Soon he would sacrifice yet more.

Leshil had good reason to hate him. But Brot'an'duive had no choice in bringing Cuirin'nen'a back for judgment. One of them had to remain free of Most Aged Father's confirmed suspicions, and Cuirin'nen'a hadalready fallen from their leader's goodwill. It remained imperative that Brot'an'duive not fall with her. She understood this.

He had manipulated Leshil into finishing his own mission and assassinating Darmouth. Again, he had seen no other option. What he did, he did for his people rather than the goals of Most Aged Father.

Sgailsheilleache and Osha returned with walnuts and berries. Sgailsheil-leache looked ill and would not raise his eyes to anyone. Brot'an'duive pitied him. Sworn guardianship or not, Sgailsheilleache would not rest easy in Magiere's presence-nor would Frethfare.

Neither would Brot'an'duive.

He reached out and took walnuts and berries with both hands. "Both of you stay with En’nish and the others. Frethfare will return soon."

Sgailsheilleache finally looked up. Before he objected, Brot'an'duive gave his assurance.

"I will serve your guardianship as if it were my own. Take your ease for a time. When we return to Crijheaiche, Most Aged Father will advise us wisely."

These last words stuck in his throat, but the pretense was necessary.

Sgailsheilleache glanced toward Magiere, and a hint of revulsion resurfaced. He nodded and turned away with young Osha following.

Brot'an'duive stepped off through the trees toward the separate gathering of Sgailsheilleache's charges. He had not met the small one called Wynn, who now sat against a large cedar, bare of branches at its base. She had torn a strip of cloth from some garment to make a bandage for the shallow slash on Leshil's forearm. Beside her was the majay-hi, Chap, who Sgailsheilleache and Leshil had both spoken to in the clearing-a strange moment.

majay-hiand human stared off through the forest, and Brot'an'duive caught a glimpse of the pack among the trees. Now and then, a white female ranged closer.

The fact that the pack and a clhuassas had aided a human in finding

Cuirin'nen'a was perplexing. Against their long-standing protection of this land from outsiders, they found nothing to fear from this little one called Wynn.

Brot'an'duive did not believe in portents, yet it was a strange sign. The doubts he had harbored over the years for Eillean's plan lessened a little more. The touched creatures of his people's land appeared to find Most Aged Father's ways unacceptable.

Magiere lay upon the ground away from the cedar's far side, looking weary and spent from her sudden fury. Leshil now crouched beside her.

Brot'an'duive knelt at Magiere's feet and began splitting the walnut shells with a stiletto.

"Do not strain Sgailsheilleache further," he said plainly to Leshil. "Your actions thus far have placed him in a difficult position. Frethfare will now seek any reason to execute Magiere."

Leshil stared at him. Wynn shifted around the cedar's side, followed by Chap, to listen in.

Magiere did not move. "Wynn, what were you thinking? Running off like that?"

The little human frowned. "How else would we get around Most Aged Father's coercion? Or should we just let him dangle Nein'a in front of Leesil?"

Chap nosed Wynn with a growl, and she put a hand on his head.

"I am sorry, Magiere," Wynn continued but without a hint of regret. "Chap was leaving with the majay-hi, and I… knew where he was going. There was no time to tell you."

Brot'an'duive remained silently attentive.

Most Aged Father tried to bend Leshil to his will-but for what? Aside from the custom to never spill the blood of their own, the only reason the patriarch had for keepingCuirin'nen'a alive was to learn of any others who aided her. The purpose for Leshil's safe passage became quite clear.

Brot'an'duive turned to Leshil. "You cannot free your mother… not without Most Aged Father's consent. He holds sway over the place of her confinement. If you still wish to free her, then you must return to Crijheaiche and bargain for it."

Magiere rolled up onto one elbow with a frown.

"What do you care?" Leshil spit out. "She's here because you dragged her back!"

"If I had not," Brot'an'duive replied, "then another of my caste would have done so… or worse."

"I thought elves didn't kill their own," Magiere said.

"Their own… are not always a matter of blood or even race," Brot'an'duive returned. "I was Eillean's confidant and friend. Yes, true. So who better to assure Cuirin'nen'a wasreturned unharmed?"

He turned back to Leshil. "You know our word… tru?"

"It means 'traitor'," Leshil answered coldly.

"Simplistically, yes.It also means outcast, outlawed, beyond the protection of a society. Our law against spilling the blood of our own is based in custom and tradition, not words or decrees as written down by humans."

"How convenient," Magiere said."So much easier to twist."

Brot'an'duive ignored her and kept his attention on Leshil. "There are those who consider a traitor beyond the shield of custom and society-and not one of their own. As did Groyt'ashia when he tried to take your life for interfering with my mission in Venjetz."

It was only half of the truth, but it served his purpose.

"And what about Leshil…Leesil?" Wynn asked. "What happens to him for killing one of yours? It was self-defense."

The young one eyed Brot'an'duive with a studied interest that left him wary.

"I will bear witness in Leshil's favor," he answered. "I know the truth of it, should it come to that."

"Truth?" Leesil spit."In your mouth? Have any more sick jokes?"

"That, and the safe passage of humans in our land, is why the elders gather in Crijheaiche.Now Frethfare will give them something of greater concern to my people."

Brot'an'duive turned his eyes upon Magiere.

Magiere hurt for Leesil, despite her own pain. For all the trouble Wynn had caused, finding Nein'a had done little good.

She had lost control in front of their enemies, revealing her nature. They didn't truly understand what she was-but an explanation wouldn't gain her much. The child of a vampire would be viewed as little better than an un-dead.

Even worse, after all of Leesil's efforts, the loss and bloodshed, Nein'a wouldn't even speak to him.

Magiere avoided looking at the trees. Every time she did, they conjured images of the blotched dead marks her own touch had left on the birch. The ones no one else seemed to have noticed. Her vision of undead slaughtering an encampment still plagued her.

Elves, short and stoutdwarves, and humans had fought side by side as allies, though it didn't seem possible.Certainly not in any part of her world. Wynn spoke at times of elves near her homelandwho were far different from those here.

If it were real-if it had happened-then where and when? And how and why had she seen it upon touching the birch?

Wynn shivered in the cooling air and clutched at Chap for warmth. Even Leesil huddled up as if chilled.

"We should start a fire," Magiere said. "Brot'an… help me find firewood."

"I'll go," Leesil demanded, though he kept his eyes down, unwilling to look at Brot'an. "You need rest."

Brot'an seemed about to object to either option. Magiere shook her head slightly at him, and then tilted it toward Leesil. Brot'an remained silent in puzzlement.

"Stay here," she told Leesil. "Have Wynn tell you about trying to walk Nein'a out of the clearing. Maybe there's something we've missed."

She got up and started off, and Brot'an followed. When they were far enough away not to be heard, he spoke up first.

"What is on your mind?"

"You saw me change when we fought in the crypt, but you didn't tell your… kind about me?"

After a pause, he replied, "It was not their concern."

"Does anyone else know that Leesil killed Darmouth?"

He stopped walking, forcing her to face him. "I reported my purpose as complete. No questions were asked, so I did not elaborate."

"Yet you did tell them he killed Groyt?"

"A body does require explanation," Brot'an replied passively. "I returned Groyt'ashia to his family and kin. He was Anmaglahk, and his throat had been slashed open. Only the truth… only another trained in our way, was a believable explanation."

Magiere hated it when any of these butchers referred to Leesil as one of them.

"Whatever you want from Leesil, forget it," she warned. "We're leaving, and-one way or another-we're taking Leesil's mother. Your people have put him through enough. He'll live as he chooses, and I'll see to that. Understand?"

A strange weariness, or maybe sadness, washed over Brot'an's scarred face. "You have mated with Leshil."

Magiere was so taken aback that she lost her voice for an instant. "Don't try meddling in my life. What's between Leesil and me is none of your con-cern.

"It is his concern, more than he may know," Brot'an answered. "I understand your intention, but you do not understand all that is involved… because of Leshil's heritage."

Magiere flinched at this, though she didn't understand all that Brot'an implied. Except perhaps that her connection to Leesil might be one more weight upon him in the coming days. She changed tactics.

"Then do me one favor," she said.

"If I am able."

"I need to speak with Nein'a alone… just for a few moments."

The wary Brot'an reappeared, and he shook his head.

"The others won't see or know," she went on. "I have questions for her before I decide what to do next.And I… I will owe you in return."

Being indebted to this man was almost more than Magiere could stomach, but she had to know what Leesil risked his future for. If she could go back in time and save her own mother, she would at any price. Magelia was worth the cost-but was Nein'a?

"Do not think for a moment," Brot'an warned, "that Frethfire will forget what she saw this day."

Brot'an's steady gaze made Magiere's persistent quiver all the more unsettling. He headed for the barrier woods, and she followed. When he stopped before the passage through those tangled trees, he held her off a moment longer.

"Remember your debt the next time I must have Leshil's cooperation for his own sake."

Magiere nodded, though it made her flush with resentment. She hoped Leesil would remain distracted by Wynn for a little while longer.

The passage through the woods had grown as dark as dusk beneath the clouded sky. As Magiere pushed aside the tall ferns and stepped into the open clearing, she wasn't certain how she would handle this meeting. She ended up waiting, lost in thought, until Nein'a appeared from around the domicile tree.

Nein'a carried the saffron cushion left beside the brook and headed toward her home. She stopped at the sight of Magiere, dropped the cushion beside the tree, and stood waiting.

As Magiere approached, Nein'a studiedthe two majay-hi still present. One lapped at the brook's water while the other curled upon the moss to wash. The sight seemed to bring the tall elven woman satisfaction.

"You risk the moment of peace Brot'an'duive created, but Sgailsheilleache will be the one to pay if your absence is discovered."

Magiere had bargained blindly for this meeting, and now her tongue was tied as she looked upon this apparition of Leesils past.Lovely, deadly Nein'a. Brot'an's hint at Magiere's intimacy with Leesil suddenly left her uncertain in facing Leesil's mother. Magiere wondered-out of all others, why had Leesil chosen her?

Magiere wore her emotions on her face. She had no wiles and no ways with feminine mystery.

"Don't you miss him?" she asked quietly. "Aren't you glad to see him?"

It wasn't what she'd planned to say.But if anyone had taken Leesil from her, had parted them for eight years, the sight of him again wouldVe broken her into tears.

"You are… his?" Nein'a asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Neither insulting nor as bitterly sad as Brot'an's statement, and yet it intimidated Magiere.

"Yes. We own a tavern… in the town ofMiiska on the Belaskian coast. But he has wanted to find you ever since Sgaile came at him in Bela and hinted that you might still be alive." Magiere found a touch of her own bitterness. "Even after everything you've done to him."

Nein'a stared directly into her eyes. "And what have I done to him?"

Magiere's hesitant bitterness became anger again. "You trained him-used him-forced him to murder in your footsteps. He drank himself to sleep every night just to forget the things you taught him to do."

"And would he have survived in your company without his training?" Nein'a asked.

"Survival, of course," Magiere hissed. "That is why you trained him.How unselfish!"

It was cruel, rather than just her usual bluntness. But did Nein'a bear any real love for her son?

"I know nothing of you," Nein'a returned. "Less even than you know of Leshil, who may yet serve a necessary purpose, and not just to my people alone. Only time will see if that comes to pass, and in part, I hope it does not. He must leave this land and get beyond Most Aged Father's reach. If you care for him, take him from this place."

She turned away and vanished inside the elm, not even stopping to retrieve the cushion she had dropped.

Magiere couldn't tell if it was rage or the forest's influence that made her tremble. The pieces of this game were still unclear to her.

Nein'a had trained Leesil without love-without a conscience. She had birthed him for a "purpose," as the Anmaglahk called all their missions and dark tasks.

Chap had suggested that Nein'a and others among the Anmaglahk wanted to thwart Most Aged Father. Or at least choose their own way to deal with some forgotten adversary their leader feared would return. For their own reasons, they wanted a half-blood for this. Perhaps they needed someone outside of their people as well as their caste. Leesil's mother had secretly trained him against the rules of her order.

Nein'a didn't love Leesil as a son, though he loved her as his mother.

Sorrow welled in Magiere as she swatted the ferns aside and strode out through the woods' passage. She would love Leesil enough to make up the difference.

Leesil glanced up as Brot'an returned with an armload of firewood and small dead branches for kindling.

"I cannot see what else to try," Wynn was saying.

"Where's Magiere?" Leesil asked Brot'an.

"Gathering more wood.She will return shortly."

Leesil rose to his feet and looked toward the elves' camp. He counted them and made certain all were present. They were, and relief from fear unleashed his anger. About to bark at Brot'an for stupidity, he held his words a moment longer. It didn't make sense that Brot'an would leave Magiere unattended.

How long had he been distracted by Wynn's experiences with Nein'a? His stomach churned each time he thought of his mother's greeting-or lack of it. He started off to find Magiere.

"She will return directly," Brot'an said. "Help me start the fire."

Leesil didn't wish to share even such a simple task with this man. But he crouched down, looking about repeatedly for any sign of Magiere.

The air grew damp, and the kindling was no better. Brot'an struck flint to a short stub of steel he produced, but it took a while to get decent flames started. Wynn fell to peeling bisselberries and cracking walnuts left beside the tree. Finally, Leesil heard footfalls crunching in the forest mulch. Magiere appeared but carried only three branches.

"Is that all you found?" Wynn asked.

Magiere didn't answer. Leesil took the branches and dropped them beside the fire.

"She's tired," he said, and pointed Magiere toward a large redwood a dozen paces off. "We're going over there to rest. Wynn, stay with Chap. Try to get some sleep."

"But you will be away from the fire," Wynn argued.

Leesil expected a challenge from Brot'an, but the man didn't even stand up.

"We should all rest," Brot'an said. "Find what comfort you can, but stay within my sight."

Leesil pushed Magiere on.Within sight, indeed. He wasn't about to leave Wynn alone in the scarred elf's company. He only wanted to be out of earshot. When he went to settle against the redwood, Magiere pulled back.

"Let's just sit in the open," she said and dropped down, waiting for him.

The forest grew darker with scant daylight, but she didn't seem to care. So he crouched and dropped to his haunches beside her.

"This isn't what you expected, is it?" she whispered. "You thought she'd be grateful to see you after all this time-no matter what happened when you escaped from Venjetz."

Is that what made her so quiet and withdrawn-worry for him? No, there was something more. He could sense it.

"No, not what I expected," he answered. "Nothing we do turns out as we plan. It's like my childhood never happened, and she doesn't even know me."

Magiere's face grew tense and thoughtful, and she seemed reluctant to look at him. She had exposed her dhampir nature. The elves' reactions would cut her deeply, and she'd become the focus of their hatred more than he. He didn't care what she was. She was still Magiere. But was he what or who she would really want?

A thing-a tool-a weapon.She deserved more than that. Even his own mother rejected him as anything more.

"You're my blood, Leesil," Magiere whispered, "my family… all that I need."

Leesil's mind went blank, caught between her words and the fear of losing her. He looked at the black locks of hair hanging around her pale face.

"Marry me," she whispered, quick and sharp.

Leesil braced a hand upon the ground between his legs. He grew almost faint as the weight of the day and everything that had happened vanished and left him light-headed.

In this place, surrounded by so little hope and so many threats for the future…

He couldn't think straight, her two words echoing over and over in his emptied mind.

"No," he blurted out.

Magiere lifted her head, her eyes round with shock.

"Yes, I mean… no," he fumbled. "I mean…"

Any other time he'd made an ass ofhimself, she'd turned livid, ready to club him for his stupidity. But Magiere just sat there in startled pain.

As if he'd struck her.

Leesil grabbed Magiere's face and pressed his mouth hard to hers. She wrestled free, nearly shoving him over. Confusion mixed with a hint of her old ire.

"Yes," he said quickly. "I mean yes… but no, not here and not now."

Oh, how he had botched things again. But Magiere's brows softened quickly.

"Can't you see?" he rushed on, and grabbed both her hands, holding them tightly. "I don't want it like this, not among enemies. Not until we're home again with Karlin and Caleb and maybe Aunt Bieja. That's where it should happen.Where it can be the right day-a celebration.The finest day of our lives."

Two tears slid down Magiere's face."A celebration?"

"With dancing," he added.

She slipped her arms around his neck, clutching him so hard he couldn't breathe.

Chap stayed with Wynn, eyeing Brot'an, though he knew Leesil would not move out of sight. He tried to understand Nein'a's unexpected behavior.

Unlike Leesil, Chap had never anticipated an open welcome. The Nein'a that he remembered was cunning and cautious. So much so that Chap had always had difficulty in dipping even one memory from her thoughts. Brot'an and even Eillean were much the same. All three were adept at keeping their minds clear of triggered memories that would interfere with their focus upon what must be done. But Nein'a should be doing everything in her power to help freeherself. Her refusal to leave perplexed Chap.

Wynn scooted closer to the fire and tried to stuff her small hands up her tunic's opposing sleeves. Brot'an appeared to be rearranging his own attire beneath his gray-green cloak. Chap heard clinking metal and wondered what the elf was doing.

He would not trust Brot'an, but his estimation of the man grew less certain. Brot'an served his own agenda, but he had placed himself between Magiere and his caste. He had also managed to keep Leesil under control, without letting their past conflict boil into the open.

Brot'an glanced across the low flames at Wynn and stripped off his heavy cloak. The sleeves of his green tunic were pulled down, but Chap caught no signs of weapons on his wrists. Brot'an stepped around the fire and draped his cloak over the small sage. Wynn jumped slightly.

"Sleep," he told her, and he slid down to sit against the tree behind the sage.

"Thank you," Wynn said, formally polite. "I left Chane's… my cloak back in Crijheaiche. Will you not be cold?"

"Sleep," he repeated.

Wynn lay back and, after a moment, closed her eyes.

Chap dropped his head to his paws, still watching Brot'an.

He should rest with Wynn and keep her warm. This day had been no better for her than the others.In some ways, far worse. The Fay knew of her gift-or curse-of sensing when they manifested nearby.

A soft blur of white appeared near the edge of a far cedar. Lily poked her head around and whined.

Chap stifled his eagerness to go to her, not wanting to leave Wynn and Magiere alone and subject to so many threats. When he turned from Lily with a sigh, he found Brot'an watching him, and wrinkled his jowls at the man.

"Go," Brot'an said.

Leesil kept watch from an open space between the trees. Magiere lay with her head upon his thigh, her eyes closed. Still, Chap would not leave.

He glanced at the group of Anmaglahk gathered at another fire off through the forest. They huddled about the flames as Frethfare stood over them, but he could not hear their voices clearly.

"Enough!" Sgaile said too loudly and stood up.

Chap heard no more, though it appeared Sgaile defended whatever Frethfare had said to all there. En’nish turned away where she sat, and the conversation ended.

Lily came up beside Chap, surprising him with a lick on his ear. He didn't look at her but kept his eyes on the gathering of enemies.

"No one will disturb your companions," Brot'an said.

The words broke Chap's concentration as he tried to catch any memories in the minds of the Anmaglahk. He rumbled softly.

He did not care for so many having discovered how truly aware he was. First Sgaile-and now Brot'an spoke to him in full sentences, as if knowing he understood.

"We should all take what time is left to be with our own kind," Brot'an added.

The tall elf leaned his head back against the tree and stared into the fire's small dancing flames.

Chap got up slowly as Lily headed off. He shivered, but not from cold.

Though he was uncertain why, his thoughts slipped back to the phantasm he had suffered in the forests of Droevinka-Magiere's homeland. He had seen her, mad and feral, standing in the dark at the head of an army. Among the twisted creatures of the living walked those of the undead. He shook the memory off-it was a lie induced by sorcery.

Chap loped after Lily until she paused and circled around in a mulch-filled hollow between three close fir trees.

Her fur was warm and soft against him. He pressed into her as they turned about each other. There was relief in her gentle presence. For a little while, he was not so alone. He had kin of flesh, kin of living spirit, if not those who had betrayed him and taken his memories. And when he finally lay quiet beside her, it was with memory and not words that they spoke in whispers.