Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 (58 page)

When they came upon the camp that Adria had stumbled upon during her first elk hunt, they found that it was not rebuilt. The stumps of the trees they had cut — likely intended as the beginning stage of a new fort — were half hidden by undergrowth and new saplings.

Did they decide it was too dangerous?
 Adria wondered. 
Or are they only baiting us?
 Either way, she realized she was complicit in the outcome, and it would be some time before the anxiety and guilt would diminish.

Either way, it is a response to Preinon’s new army, and does not bode well for the future.

Mateko was quiet, typical for when they were beyond the relative safety of a camp, but he watched her to see her reactions, and she allowed herself to show them, and after a few minutes spoke herself.

“Have you ever slain a man, Mateko?
” she asked, just loud enough for the words to cross the distance.

He nodded, smiling grimly to show his empathy. “
Some, yes.
”

Adria nodded along with him, kneeling beside a stump where a patch of wood violets already bloomed.

“Does it get easier?
” she asked hopefully, dreading the answer.

He knelt down beside her, and she could tell he wondered if he should touch her or not. But he remained still as he thought about it, despite her attempts to will him to do so.

Finally he nodded. “
It does. I wish it did not…
 but it does.”

She understood his meaning, and it brought her some comfort. She cleared overgrowth and snow from around the violets, smiling a little at the obvious symbolism, wondering, 
Do I look for such things, without even thinking?

When she raised her head, her eyes were blurred a little. At the far end of the clearing, upon the snow and in the shade of the treeline, she saw the shape of a wolf, its fur unmistakably pale.

“Mateko...” she whispered, but even as she blinked her tears away, the figure was gone. She frowned, but could now see Mateko’s hand, restless upon his leg, almost with the will to reach to her.

Putting the wolf from her mind, whether it was a sign or reality or the myth of a poorly rested mind, she smiled again and said, “
I will miss you while you are away.
”

“
No,
Púksha
, I don’t think that you will.
”

Adria turned her head and frowned. 
Is he trying to be humorous or callous?

He only shook his head, without much expression. “
You are not going back to the tribe this season. We are going to meet with the Runners at First Camp.
”

Adria nodded slowly, even uncertainly. She might have hoped for this, and yet her training did not yet seem enough to join the Runners. There had been no ceremony, no proclamation — nothing whatsoever on the part of Preinon.

But he does not truly lead them, 
she corrected herself
.
 
Perhaps it is a decision they all make, or none of them.
Perhaps Mateko simply brings me along, hoping nothing will be said in objection...

She didn’t know the truth of it, and did not ask. She was thankful and anxious, resigned... many feelings mixed. She looked back at the flowers in their nest and nodded silently.

Then, hesitantly, she reached over to place her hand nearer Mateko’s, and they remained for awhile, still, without words, as Adria watched the tree line, the mountains beyond, and the skies above, all filled with ghosts and memory.

It took more than thirty beats of her heart before he found the courage to touch her hand.

It was ten more before his lips found hers, and by then, her eyes had already closed in expectation.

The Novice spent more time on deck in the coming days. At first, she seemed to do just as Adria had done, roaming in a circle as the sailors went about their tasks, carefully avoiding interrupting their work.

She spoke seldom, even when spoken to, but neither did she seem to ignore them outright. A vague and airy smile, perhaps a tilt of the head to show that she had heard, but no comment, no answers even to questions.

After a time, the sailors assumed she was mute, and treated her with appropriate deference.

She ignored the Knights completely, who likewise did the same, but such was not unusual between Knight and Novice. Adria knew that any disagreement between a Knight and a member of the Sisterhood, even a Novice, would inevitably fall in the female’s favor, and this tended to breed some division between their orders.

The girl lingered near Adria on occasion, at the fore, but still said nothing, and Adria determined to wait her out as a test of intention, awareness, intelligence.

With interest, Adria gradually saw that it was Captain Falburn the Novice most favored, and after growing bored in her rounds, her green robes could most often be seen lingering on the aft deck near the helm.

The girl and the captain seemed to speak a little, but Adria could not make out the words from across deck.

On the second evening of such, Adria idly wandered aft herself, taking her place on the covered coil of rope she had half claimed when it was not in use.

The Novice turned back a little as Adria sat, but said nothing, but Falburn favored her with a long, low nod, his hands still at rest on the wheel, and smiled through his ample blond-gray beard.

“Ma’am.”

“Good evening, Captain.”

And that was it, for quite some time. The Novice returned her attention to the distant horizon along with Falburn.

“Tell me of that one,” the captain said quietly, after a time. He nodded his chin toward one of the sailors manning mid-deck, port side.

“I already have…” the girl nearly whispered.

Falburn smiled a little, Adria could see, even in profile and bearded.

“Aye,” he agreed. “Tell me again.”

The Novice sighed distractedly. “Tertius Aufidius Quadratus, son of the same. Called Terti by most. Not from Somana, but Pentaros, a fishing village west of Periton. He was a thief and a drunkard in Propolus when you found him.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “A thief and a drunkard too afraid of you to drink or thieve when you are near. He has a disease that makes his feet itch and stink. He always wears his shoes, which only makes it worse. Tell him to soak his feet in saltwater for an hour before bed. He’ll be normal in a week.”

“Aye… I’ll hang him over the deck to soak myself,” Falburn chuckled. “You didn’t say that part before.”

She half-shrugged.

They were silent a moment before the captain prompted her again. “Aright, the Knight with the crossbow. He’s an odd gull.”

“Meynard of Highreach, son of Owen Sawyer and Fraya of Mistton. Born lame, he had an affinity for birds. He became a falconer, and always wore the glove to hide his useless hand. A loyalist in the War for Union, it cost him his lord, his means, and his family. He had little choice but to join the Temple. He found his way to become a Knight, but was never fully welcome.”

Falburn nodded slowly again, and again they were silent.

Like Taber, the Sisters…
Adria thought.
This girl must know all they know. These were all chosen, all studied, and she is trying to impress the Captain with her knowledge.

And the girl’s stance was odd, the way she held her head. Her voice.

And Adria’s Hunter senses led her to a realization. Subtle changes in the way the girl moved...
Very subtle…

A leaf changing in the wind. A shadow just a little darker from a distant storm.

She watches me.
Adria thought.
She does not look, but she sees. Like Sh
í
sha, perhaps… like… Tain
á
be.

“And Her Royal Majesty here?” Captain Falburn turned, favored Adria with a nod. “What do you know of her?”

Adria grew at once a little nervous, a little excited.

The girl stood quite still, not answering for quite some time.

Also like Taber,
Adria noted.

Finally, the Novice sighed, low. “You should have discovered my secret by now, Hamon Falburn. I know everything.”

Waiting for Crows

T
he moons passed with dizzying swiftness as Adria grew into her place among the Metehãloweye. The Runners were endlessly in motion, and Adria ceaselessly exhausted.

There were times when no strength remained at the end of the day, or even days at a time, to even raise the poles of her tent. No one pitched her tent for her. She slept in the open, praying for no rain.

And when she slept, still she seemed to run, always searching for the better path, always trailing her companions with heavy breath and limbs full of stone and fire.

Still
, she told herself when the pain was at its worst. I am a Runner. Zho aloloawe.

In camp at night Preinon would collect the information of scouts, coordinating it in his head with those of weeks or even months before, imagining accurate maps of Knights’ movements behind their lines, and any possibilities of advancement into the wild.

His instincts regarding the enemy commanders were strong, but it was Shísha who always sealed their plans. She would often retreat to her camp and perform ceremonials of her own, “walking her spirit” to unknown places, to return in the morning with intelligence that confirmed and complemented those of the scouts remarkably.

Between the vigilance of the scouts, the prescience of the Lichushegi, and the strategic instincts of Preinon, their estimations were accurate within hours, and the Runners always in position.

Although Adria was anxious for, and dreaded, direct confrontation with the violet and the black, the actions of the Runners were more akin to shepherding, when they encountered tribes whose camps would soon be in danger.

The camps moved further into the wild, and in many areas hunting grounds were too crowded, and the elders feared that too many elk or deer would be slain, that in coming years there would not be enough to maintain the People. Wolves grew in number, so that the Hunters of the tribes were often obliged to hunt these instead of better game, in hopes of maintaining some balance.

A long retreat.

At the northern borders, they sometimes came across bands of dislocated Mewashemesitibopi in need of food and shelter and a new place to call home. With the help of the Runners, these were welcomed again among their people, and began to relearn the words and ways of their ancestors.

A long retreat.

There were times when Preinon might have brought his new army to the fore, but even though they returned to camp near the Shíme Ihaloa Táya more than once, Watelomoksho seemed still reluctant to do more than train his Hunters in Rows, and it seemed to Adria that an uneasy peace remained between them and the Runners.

They were not as mobile as the Runners, of course, and whenever the choice came between evacuating a camp with the Runners or else facing the Knights with the Hunters, Preinon heeded the counsel of Shísha and others and chose the path of retreat.

“We are moving faster than we have before
,” Mateko admitted to Adria one evening, as they sat together, exhausted, a little distant from camp. “
In more directions than before.
”

Half a moon before the leaves would begin their turning, nearly all the Runners were camped together, with the Hunters nearby, and Preinon called an End Camp Council around the evening fire. All of the Runners but those on watch attended, and Preinon had invited a few of the Hunters in Rows to represent them.

“It is quiet
,” Preinon began as they finished their meal. “
The war season is ending soon, and the enemy makes only small moves. Soon they will hide behind their walls and huddle beside their fires. We must decide our final moves as well.
”

There was general agreement among them.

“
What do you see,
Lichushegi?” Chasebatu asked Shísha.

“
I see little now,
” the Holy Woman answered. “
But I will say what I know. Your Hunters are restless,
Watelomoksho
. They want to fight, or they want to return to their families.
”

“
It is true,
” some from among them who had joined the council agreed.

Shísha continued, 
“Many among the
Metehãloweye
are uncertain, as well. The way forward is less known. We must look to our backs more.
”

“It is true,” Preinon nodded. “
The Others move strangely, and less predictably.
”

Another among the Runners said, “
This is not a time for an army. There is no place for them.
”

And there was much agreement with this, both from the Runners and from the few of the Hunters in Rows around the fire.

Preinon nodded, resigned. “
It is true. The Hunters will return to their camps with the thanks of the tribes and with what provisions we can provide.
”

“
It is true
,” all agreed.

“For now, the rest is retreat,
” he said, drawing movements in the dirt with a sharp blackened fire-tending antler. “
For the
Metehãloweye,
work remains...
”

And Preinon divided the Runners into three. Two groups were sent to aid camps who would be on the front next season, where Knights were establishing a hold. The Runners would help them move early, and find safer camps before winter, giving all more time in the spring to plan.

Preinon, Mateko, Shísha, and a few others remained at the central camp the following days to see the Hunters off and finish coordinating other efforts.

But soon Shísha left as well, with those Hunters who returned to the Shema Ihaloa Táya.

“
Why do you leave early,
Lichushegi?” Adria asked as she helped the Holy Woman pack.

“
My skills will better serve the tribe now,
” she said without inflection. “
And I should make certain these Hunters can find their way, and that
Imani
has not misplaced that baby of hers.
”

The humor reassured Adria a little, though she nevertheless felt that the woman, like Preinon, was not revealing something.

“
Something is wrong, isn’t it,
Lichushegi?”

Shísha paused, and, uncharacteristically, took Adria’s hands in her own, and spoke in Aeman, softly, “I remember what it means to be blind. There is no reason to be afraid.”

Adria shook her head, blinking, not at all understanding. But this seemed to be her Chosen Mother’s goodbye.

Only the day after the Hunters in Rows had gone, Adria heard a distinct bird cry, an alarm. Soon after, Mateko returned from watch with one of the Hunters, who stood breathless a moment.

Mateko began his story. “
He left our camp to return to the
Pugamileya Okhhowela
. His way was blocked by soldiers of the Others, marching upon the camp.
”

The Hunter nodded, and managed, “
It is true
.”

“
How many?
” Preinon Watelomoksho asked.

The Hunter made a sign which meant they numbered more than twenty, less than fifty or so. The Aesidhe did not have precise numbers in that range, whether or not he could have counted them accurately.

“
How is that possible?
” Adria asked. She had met this tribe only weeks before. “
That means they... are behind us. How could they...
?”

She looked from one to the other. Mateko nodded his head, frowning. Preinon, lost in thought, did not answer. The other seven or eight Runners were gathering by now, Mateko having signaled them back on his approach.

“
They will arrive before Sun sets
,” The Hunter had gathered himself enough to speak, but his voice was strained. “
I could not have made it past them. My family...
”

He did not finish his sentence. She remembered his name then, Méneshno.

“
The Hunters might yet have proved of service,
” Adria suggested.

“
No,
” Mateko shook his head. “
They could not travel swiftly enough.
Only we are close enough to reach them. Still we may not arrive before the soldiers.
”

“
...they outnumber us three… maybe four to one,
” Adria finished.

Preinon took only a moment to consider, while the Hunter caught his breath. Her uncle nodded, frowning, then turned to meet Adria’s gaze.

“
We will move faster than before,
Pukshonisla,” he said. “
Can you run with us?
”

Adria swallowed and closed her eyes, taking her own measure. She breathed, and felt the blood course to the ends of her fingers and toes, even as her head lightened. But she knew there was little time to think, and it would make little difference to her answer.

“
I will run. If I am swift, there will be two more arms to serve the People. If I fail, and fall behind, I will make my own way, and welcome you with two arms when you return.
”

Preinon only nodded again as he turned to the breathless Hunter.

Méneshno’s face grew dark.
“I am no Runner.”

And Watelomoksho stood near him, clasped his shoulder and the back of his head in friendship. “
You are a strong Hunter,
Méneshno
, and you have already run far this day. Follow in your time, send your prayers with the Helpers. We will save your family if our ancestors make it so.
”

They did not break their camp — they only covered the fire and put the food up in the trees beyond bears’ reach. In scant moments, they were running.

To distract herself from the growing strain and pain in her limbs and breath, Adria rehearsed the plan the Runners had for such a situation, approaching a camp which might already be under attack, outnumbered.

“Their numbers will be greater than ours,” Preinon had instructed. “They will be ready for us, and so we must concentrate our efforts. We must wait until we have them surrounded, so that we can take them at once, in force, and with surprise. It may cost more lives of the tribe, but it will allow us to ensure our victory. Otherwise, all our lives may be lost.”

He had given the signal, then, that the Runner chosen to close the circle would give, and she had learned to repeat it.

A circle of crows,
Adria remembered thinking.
Wait for the crowing.

And Adria managed, somehow, to keep pace, images of ravens circling the camp in her mind’s eye. As they neared, Mateko let them know how close they were, and Preinon came beside her and motioned, reminding her, 
the plan is a circle. Wait for the call.

And he motioned for Mateko to close the circle, as they split directions.

They are the swiftest of us here,
Adria nodded. They will meet on the far side, and I will be the one who hides and waits the longest.

They all fanned out, eleven or twelve of them. Adria maintained her path, began to slow her pace to martial her strength.

As she stilled, her drumming heartbeat pacing a little less, Adria’s awareness heightened, her eyes and ears searching for enemy scouts at the periphery.

She began to count, trying to estimate when all would be in place, when Mateko would give the signal, when it would travel the circle to her, the last.

The one who cries twice,
she sighed.
And then we strike as one, each attacking our nearest enemy, always favoring one to the left. Or… perhaps we will have made it in time…

But she heard the sounds from camp before she heard the crowing, cries in both Aeman and Aesidhe, the sounds of metal and wood upon metal, upon hide, leather, into flesh.

She slowed a little more and crouched as the light grew ahead, the last of the sunlight brightening the relative clearing of the camp, still checking the tree line for lookouts.

They are clumsy,
Adria thought. They do not expect us, and the plan will work.

Adria wondered again how they had not known the Knights were coming. How they could have evaded scouts, given no sign of smoke or dust for those who watched all season.