Hand of the Hunter: Chosen of Nendawen, Book II (15 page)

The raven atop the spear stood with its wings outstretched to the noonday sun. Beyond him, gathered just outside the ring of ash, were hundreds of wolves. But she could see through them, as if they were made of morning mist. Only their eyes seemed solid and bright.

And standing in their midst was Scith, dressed in the finery of a Var warrior. Flames still danced in his hair and from his clothing, but they did not consume him. His visage was grim and proud. Just beyond him, wolves milling about her feet like puppies yipping at a mother hound, stood Merah, Hweilan’s mother. But she was not wearing the gowns and robes of the Damaran court. She dressed as a Vil Adanrath warrior, and the blood pulsing from the wound at her head only made her look all the more fierce. Hweilan’s father stood beside her, dressed
in his finest armor, and even though he was insubstantial as the rest, the sunlight glinted off his steel, blinding and pure.

Hweilan could not look away, could not even force herself to blink.

“Behold!” Gleed whispered next to her.

She could not look away from her family, but from the corner of her eye she saw a green light flicker and pulse along the haft of the spear. The ground shook beneath her again, then once more, so strong that she felt her bones rattle, and her deepest senses—the ones beyond sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—felt something go out of the spear, screaming and clawing as it did so, but helpless against the greater power that thrust it down.

Gleed leaped to his feet and began to dance and caper around the spear, laughing and cackling as he did so.

“I won’t do it, Hweilan,” a rasping voice said from behind her.

Hweilan forced herself to sit up and turn around. Just outside the circle of ash, swaying in something between a crouch and lurch, was Lendri, just as ghostly as the rest. His chest was an open ruin, and he held his own heart in one hand. The heart was still beating, dripping blood down his arm and onto the ground, where it hit and sizzled to steam.

“You can call me,” said Lendri, “but I will not return. Not even for you. Let my exile end. Please. Let me rest.”

Hweilan squeezed her eyes shut and said, “No. You’re dead.”

She turned around again, opening her eyes. Gleed still danced around the spear. Raven and spear were gone. Beyond, the ghost wolves were fading, as was her family. Even as he faded, her father raised his hand and said, “In the midst of life, we are in death. Thin is the veil that separates us, and it can be lifted.”

And then he was gone.

C
HAPTER
ELEVEN

A
FTER THEY RETURNED TO THE TOWER
, G
LEED
watched as Hweilan poulticed and bound the fresh wound in her hand, and they ate a good meal on the lakeshore as the sun set and the bats began to flutter around the lake, feeding on the night bugs.

Gleed built a small fire as the crickets’ song began in full force. The old goblin leaned in close to the fire, stirring it far more than it needed, and Hweilan knew he was gathering his thoughts. The set of his brow and tightness of his jaw was not anger, so she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. But he seemed unusually solemn, even grim.

He jabbed at the fire, sending orange sparks to sparkle up amongst the silver and blue of the stars, then he said, “You saw something up there.”

The question took Hweilan by surprise. “What?”

“Upon the height,” said Gleed. “You saw the …” He squinted as he searched for the word, then shrugged and said, “The
Ebun Nakweth.
”

“Witness Cloud?” said Hweilan, then it came to her. “You mean the ghost wolves?”

Gleed nodded, but his eyes had narrowed, reminding Hweilan very much of a frog in whose sight a tasty fly has just wandered.

“Yes, I saw them,” said Hweilan.

“That is good. Blessed hunters. Sacred to the Master. That you saw them … you did well today, Hweilan.”

“Thank you.”

“You passed your first test with Kesh Naan, and you have learned much from me. You will still learn from me in the coming days. But soon—very soon—you will meet your next teacher. Lore you have. Making you are learning. Now, you must Hunt.”

“Gleed, I’ve been a hunter most of my life.”

The goblin reached around the fire and grabbed her arm, hard enough to hurt.

“Not like this, Hweilan.” He looked up at her, eyes most serious. Then he licked his lips, looked around and said, almost in a whisper, “To hunt animals, to hunt men, even to hunt aberrations of dark magic … these are nothing like hunting the demons of Jagun Ghen. And even if your huntsmen were the hardest men in your land, they are nothing compared to Ashiin.”

“Ashiin?” said Hweilan, trying the name. It meant “fox” in the language of the Vil Adanrath.

Gleed’s eyes widened and he looked out into the dark. “Shht! Quiet, foolish girl.”

Hweilan looked around, seeing nothing but the clear night sky, the bats fluttering over the lake, and the impenetrable dark of the woods beyond.

“Learn from her,” said Gleed. “But do
not
trust her.”

Hweilan stared at him. “What? I … I don’t understand. Don’t trust her? Why? If she is to teach me …”

“That one,” Gleed whispered, “serves the Master. But for her own reasons. If she thinks you do not further those reasons …” He shuddered and looked around again, and his voice dropped even further. “Do
not
trust her. If you value your life, heed me, girl.”

He stood and started to walk away, but she called out to him. “Gleed, I …”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“The Witness Cloud … you saw them?”

“Yes. I have seen them many times.”

“Did you see … anyone else?”

His brows crinkled into a deep wrinkle, his one good eye almost disappearing in the folds of skin. “One?” he said.

“What?”

“You said anyone else? Not
anything
. I saw wolves, ravens, owls, bears … hunters. All beasts sacred to the Master. Creatures I honor and respect. But I would not call them ‘anyone.’ So tell me: who did you see?”

Hweilan swallowed and looked away, uncomfortable under the intense gaze of that single eye. She didn’t know if she could trust him. Growing up in Highwatch, hobgoblins and all their cousins had been nuisances at best—and more often than not a true menace. But Gleed was like no goblin she had heard of. She sensed a hardness in him, belied by his grizzled old frame. And no one would ever accuse him of being charming. But he had a weight of years about him that Hweilan could only find one word for—wisdom. And after all she had seen, she sorely needed counsel.

“Well?” he said.

“I saw my family,” she said. “My mother, my father, and Scith—a Nar who helped raised me. My … my friend. He was like a second father to me, after my real father was killed. And …” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Yes? Spit it out, girl!”

“Lendri,” she whispered.

Gleed shook his head.

“A Vil Adanrath,” said Hweilan. “Of my mother’s people. He told me he had sworn some sort of blood oath to one of my ancestors. After my family was killed, after Scith died, he helped me.”

“And you saw this … Lendri in the Witness Cloud?”

“Yes. And … and once before.”

Gleed’s brows rose at this. “Do tell.”

“My first night here, in your tower, when … when I ran. I saw him.”

“Here? You saw this wolf-elf
here?
”

Hweilan realized the source of his dismay and shook her head. “No. Lendri’s dead. He died the night the Master found me. Just moments before. Lendri died defending me.”

“And you saw him in my tower?”

She nodded. “He had his heart in his hand. Still beating. And again, on the height, in the Witness Cloud. He told me …” She closed her eyes, hearing the words again so that she could get them exactly right. “He said, ‘You can call me, but I will not return. Not even for you. Let my exile end. Please. Let me rest.’ ”

Gleed looked away into the dark, considering her words for a long time, then said, “You’re sure. Those were his exact words?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me of this Lendri. Tell me everything you know. Everything. Leave nothing out. No matter how inconsequential it seems.”

Hweilan did. Beginning with their first meeting, and relating every detail Lendri had told her about their heritage.

When she finished, he stood a long time, leaning on his staff and staring into the dying flames of the fire. After a while, he nodded and said, “I will think on these things. We will speak of them again.”

And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving Hweilan alone with her thoughts. But he was not gone long. He returned carrying two goblets.

“A little wine after dinner,” he said as he handed her a goblet. “Good, yes?”

Hweilan took it and asked, “You think I really saw him? Saw Lendri and my family?”

Gleed took a drink of wine, sat, and nodded. “I do not doubt it. It is the why that puzzles me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Witness Cloud … servants of the Master. Those who have passed on into the next life. They watch us always, and sometimes they even come to our aid. But for family members to come, that is a rare thing indeed. For when the faithful leave this world in death, they join their god. They may watch, but for them to come back …” He took another drink, and said, “A matter of great import it must be. What was it this Lendri said again? About exile?”

“ ‘Let my exile end.’ ”

“Hmm.” He shook his head again. “Much thought. I will give this much thought.”

She waited a long time, watching the fire’s flames grow ever smaller. After a while, she took a sip of the wine and asked the one question that had come to her. “My next teacher. You said I will meet her soon. How will I find her? This … Ashiin?”

Gleed looked up. “She will find you.”

Hweilan shuddered. The darkness out there suddenly seemed very close, perhaps even watchful. She filled her mouth with the wine and forced it down.

She woke in the woods, gray-green dawnlight all around her, the morning birds in full song, the mist still thick under the trees. Sitting up, the thick blanket of dry leaves under which she’d lain fell away. Her head felt thick, and she knew—

“Gleed,” she muttered. He’d done it again—drugged her wine, and she hadn’t even seen it coming.

She combed the leaves and twigs out of her hair and tied it in a loose braid. At least she was wearing clothes this time. Standing and looking around, she realized she’d been here before. She recognized the irregular contortions of the trees, as if they’d been frozen in the midst of some ecstatic dance. Seeing them, with their odd cracked-and-wrinkled-bark faces, they reminded her very much of Gleed’s capering around the Sacred Circle after he’d cleansed the Master’s spear of the demon.

One of Gleed’s lessons from days ago came to her—

The Balance, sacred to Dedunan, our Master’s Master. Birth and death, light and dark, summer and winter, predator and prey, silence and song … all serve their purpose in the Balance. All work together. For one to gain mastery over the other would be only to sow the seeds of its own destruction
.

Silence and song …

Alone in the forest, Hweilan thought she stood in the very midst of that balance. There was a stillness all around her, but through it all, the world beat a gentle rhythm. Closing her eyes, she almost thought she could feel the heartbeat of the land beneath her feet. So much of the time, all of Gleed’s prattling seemed only that. But here, now, she sensed the truth of that lesson. It filled her with a sense of … not peace, but readiness. Come what may, she felt ready.

And then she saw it.

She hadn’t really been looking at any one thing. She’d fallen into old habit, branded into her at a young age by Scith, letting her gaze relax, concentrating not on any one spot, but letting her eyes soak in the whole scene before her. Mist, trees, a hundred shades of shadow among them. But then one of the shadows moved. Just a little. Her eyes focused on that spot, and for just a moment she thought she saw two sparkles—eyes?—then they were gone.

She will find you
. Gleed’s words.