Heart Duel (35 page)

She hesitated. Painted Rock was near, and troubled, but Lark had tried her best this morning to help her sister-in-law, and Painted Rock had flown away.

Lark wanted to play again with Holm. To enjoy time with him. She circled wide around lush fields as she considered. The last week or so had been hideous—mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. She deserved to have fun—and fun with Holm. She hovered in the bright blue sky, tipped her hand and spun gracefully on her wings. Here she was in her element and he would be at a disadvantage.

Brilliant, sparkling air flowed over her. Holm would add to the pleasure of the day, it was as simple as that, would gild the memory with gold. If Painted Rock appeared again—so what? Lark deserved some lovely times and memories. She couldn't live her life anxious about Painted Rock's problems which mirrored the fear and bitterness she'd left behind.

She swooped and still Holm did not press her for an answer. Good. She smiled.
Yes, Holm, you may join me.

Then he was there.

His appearance startled her and she stared, hardly believing her eyes. Her mouth hung open until the wind dried it and she snapped it shut. He was obviously a beginner, augmenting his natural grace and balance in flight with Flair—and the rig he wore! A regular airstream circled her around the area as she studied him. Material wings! He flew with wings made of tissue-thin material, but material none the less, looking frayed with age. Incredible that he managed so well.

Even as she watched, he naturally learned how to shift and balance, use wind and solar power more and Flair less to sail. It amazed her.

A high cat-shriek of glee accompanied him. Again Lark stared. White whiskers twitched and a small red tongue darted out from an orange face as if tasting the air. Meserv hung in a holly-green pouch on Holm's chest. Lark laughed. In this one thing, Meserv outmatched his brother.

The link between herself and Holm had snapped open as soon as he'd appeared and now she sensed his pure exultation at mastering a long neglected skill. Too far away to match gazes, his mind-emotions touched hers in a light caress backed by excruciating tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat.

Then he began to climb in ever-narrowing circles around her. Caring welled within her as she watched him and the emotions pulsed up and down their bond, layering, deepening, becoming complex and intimate.

He wooed her. Drifting in close enough to flash a grin or wink, then drawing away. Even with his antique equipment he was more graceful soaring than any man she'd ever seen.

He danced in the air, and tempted her to angle her wings and dance with him, in the teasing game of courtship. All the while the link between them ebbed and flowed with intense, unspoken emotion. There was affection, desire, and even more, a yearning of the heart and soul.

Her pulse raced harder as he dived past her, pulled from the dive, and spiraled upward again—she gasped, but she'd watched hawks air-dancing too often not to know the male mating flights.

The man enchanted her.

He maneuvered close, within a long wingspan, and their tie throbbed with sensual images, the delight at hearing his mother's music, the scent of her that wafted to him, calling him.

It was as if the world was brand new and they created it by swooping and dancing. A wave of a hand birthed a spray of moons, the glide of a body seeded the planet with verdant growth.

Lark, how could you invite him, too?
Painted Rock cried betrayal. Zooming in on a fast crosswind, she darted between them.

Holm was too inexperienced to handle the backwash of her wings, her stop, more rushing air as Lark compensated. His wing-edges dropped, feathered the air wrong, and he careened into Painted Rock. She plummeted into Lark. They tangled and fell.

Twenty-two

^“
NO!” Holm cried. He hadn't the Flair to save them all.
No! Not to fail a loved one again.

Painted Rock freed herself, but they continued to plummet. Holm reached mentally for Lark, but she was concentrating and didn't bond with him. An updraft whirled Holm away, then sent him falling.

The women struggled to right themselves with skill, using wind and sun to control their fall. Both still dropped.

With effort and technical moves that amazed him, Lark set Painted Rock on a wobbling but safe downward descent. Lark pinwheeled down. Out of reach.

Then she reached for him,'ported midair to him, and pulled him close. Her sheer willpower, strength, and soaring knowledge augmented by judicious Flair pulled them from their dive. Holm sent her energy, but she returned it to him, steadied him, and fixed 'porting coordinates in her mind.

Port!
she ordered.

He did, teleporting Meserv home before landing hard and rolling. When he caught his breath, he looked for her.

She still flew, angling down to where Painted Rock huddled on the ground.

Talons of fear, anger, guilt, and complete failure sank into him with cruel sharpness.

 
 
Painted Rock had landed physically safe and emotionally
broken. Lark slipped off her harness and ran to her.

The woman had collapsed into a weeping heap, finally releasing all the pent up hurt and grief and fury at her brother's death. Lark sat down and put her arms around her, cradling her as she wildly sobbed, comforting her with gentle noises, stroking hands, and a mindstream of warm understanding. Several meters away Holm strode to them, fear and anger spiking his aura, as well as a dark smudge. Obviously the incident had stirred up deep feelings in him, rousing an old, suppressed problem. She didn't know how she'd cope with two of them tugging at her heart. Both needing her and unwilling to admit their hurt.

Others ran to them, including GentleLady Southernwood, the head of the Solar Sailing Society.

Lark said, “Shhh, Painted Rock, it's all over, and we're alive and fine. Time to set aside your grieving and
live
.”

“He was the best of us. The best of
me
. He saved me from Downwind. He made me an artist.”

Lark smoothed Painted Rock's hair. “Ethyn was a good and kind man,” and why hadn't Lark loved him like the man who stopped near them now? Oh, Lady and Lord, she loved Holm! Disaster. “Painted Rock, Ethyn could not make you an artist.
You
have the talent.
You
are creative. Allow yourself to express whatever you feel and grow.”

Holm's precise movements radiated control of roiling emotions. He crouched beside them, but didn't touch Lark. Didn't want her linked further to whatever he feared most, she thought. But he said, “Can I help?” in a low, calm voice. There was no hope for it. She was well and truly in love with him.

“I'm s-s-sorry,” Painted Rock gulped. “I'm s-s-”

“Shhhh,” Lark rocked them. “It's over and we're fine.”

A starburst page burst near Lark. “STAT,” PrimaryHealing Hall broadcast. “Two down in Hawthorn-Holly street fight, mortal wounds. Bergamot Square.”

Painted Rock rubbed her wet face and pushed Lark away.
“Go!”

GentleLady Southernwood helped Lark to her feet.

Another page showered sparks. “Holm!” T'Holly's voice rang out. “Coordinates here! Come. We need your fighting arm. Bergamot Square!”

Holm's tormented gaze met hers over the wide gulf that had opened between them.

Her mind fought with her clutching heart. She wanted to link with him, hold him, love him. Healing bag in hand, she 'ported.

 
With a sweeping glance, Lark saw T'Holly and his men,
swords drawn, defending one corner of the square. The GreatLord was planted in front of Tinne. Hunting cats growled and paced.

Winterberry, the Council guardsman, led a contingent of guards herding a less cohesive group of Hawthorns away from where two bodies lay. One in Hawthorn purple, the other in Holly green. T'Heather already stooped over the still men.

Lark ran to them. Healers were too late. She looked down in horror. Her cuz Whitey Hawthorn lay with his head half-severed from his body, his jugular ripped open, blood puddled under his neck.

Her gaze went to the other. A Hawthorn dagger protruded from Eryngi Holly's chest.

They both smiled as if fighting and dying had been the best sport they'd ever had.

Horror skittered through her. She caught her breath on a sob. Her heart ached for the loss of both of them—both had been strong and vibrant and young.

Holm ported into the square near T'Holly. Holm
reached
for her, but she sent grief and anger to him.

Her lips trembled as she said to T'Heather, “Eryngi Holly. No more than an eightday ago I Healed a fatal wound of his. Now he's dead.”

T'Heather rose awkwardly to his feet and met her eyes. His anger matched hers. “Yes.” He augmented his voice with Flair so it bounced off the brick walls of the buildings surrounding the square. “A waste of Healing energy and lives. A private feud or dueling is one thing—reprehensible but sanctioned by our laws. Street fighting, leaving dead in the squares, is another matter. The NobleCouncil will hear of this and
rule
on the issue.”

T'Holly gestured Holm to take his place and strode to them, sheathing his blade, a large hunting cat with him. His voice, too, carried to all corners of the square. “I did not start this feud. I did not recently escalate it. But the fighting has sorely wounded my HeartMate, and no apology has been forthcoming. Let the NobleCouncil consider
that
.”

Wild fury lived in his eyes and was outlined in every strong sinew of his body. With a display of Holly strength, T'Holly reached down and gathered up the fallen Eryngi, cradling the dead man in his arms. “By the Cave of the Dark Goddess, I will end this feud. The cost to the Hawthorns will be dear.” His eyes burned as he surveyed the clump of Hawthorns. T'Holly jerked a nod to his men. They 'ported away in silence.

Lark narrowed the bond between herself and Holm to the merest filament, but knew despairingly that it was still too strong to cut. What would cut that thread? And how shattered would she be were it severed?

Lark's father, T'Hawthorn, walked to her slain cuz.

“Lark, you are needed at home.”

To her surprise, T'Heather curled a large, warm hand over her shoulder. Strength, determination, and comfort flowed from him to her. “I think it best that Lark remain at MidClass Lodge or move to T'Heather Residence. A Healer is not to be involved in a feud.”

T'Hawthorn scowled. “Will you recall Garis Heather and Vera Aloe from my home, too?”

Her MotherSire's nostrils flared in distaste. “You have contracted with them. That is between you and them.” He shook his head at Whitey's body. “Lady and Lord knows you will be needing them if you continue with this foolhardiness.”

Blood rushed to T'Hawthorn's pale cheeks. He stood stiffly.

T'Heather studied him. “There will be a Major Healing Ritual for D'Holly in GreatCircle Temple in two days' time, on quarter twinmoons. Will you show your willingness to end this feud, and attend, to Heal instead of kill?”

“No.”

“Let this feud go, Huathe,” T'Heather said.

Her father's lips thinned and whitened. With a wave of his hand he summoned a floating pallet for Whitey. “No.”

Without further word or glance at Lark, her father marched away, the other Hawthorns straggling behind him.

Cratag crossed to Lark and T'Heather and stopped a moment. Lark saw a slash in the leather over his right biceps. “Let me Heal that.”

He intercepted her hand and squeezed her fingers while ducking his head. “The T'Hawthorn Healers can take care of it for me. I'm sorry for your loss,” he said, and dropped her hand. His eyes held troubled concern. He bowed to T'Heather. “I am sorry for all of us.”

Pivoting on a heel, he easily caught up with the rest.

“I don't know what to do. What am I going to do?” The words escaped Lark. T'Heather slipped his muscular arm around her shoulders. His mind touched hers and knew her desolation.

“We will need you for D'Holly's Healing Ritual. After that . . . I will speak to the committee in charge of selecting the Head of Gael City HealingHall and ensure they decide
soon
.” His tone indicated that there'd be no doubt Lark would receive the position she'd once longed for so much.

She'd thought of making a new life, becoming a new woman. She had partially gained her goal. T'Heather's support of her independent living had given her the respect she so wanted from
all
her Family.

But nothing could lift the pain of loving Holm, and the knowledge of imminent heartbreak.