Watersmeet (25 page)

She was wondering where she should sit when Glynholly trotted forward and said, “Follow me, Abisina.” Benches ran along one side of the circle, some close to the floor, others higher up the wall. Sizing up Abisina, Glynholly sat her on several benches until the faun found one that brought Abisina to the same level as those in the Council. Ten or so fairies were seated on a long, lower bench to Abisina’s left. As Abisina took her seat, she felt as if everyone were staring at her—the one who brought Charach to Watersmeet.

Rueshlan finished his consultation with Lohring and headed to a place to the right of Abisina. No mark or sign on Rueshlan’s seat indicated that he was the Keeper of Watersmeet, but his feet reached comfortably to the floor. Abisina realized then that the other seats had been built to put the Council on Rueshlan’s level.

When all but three seats were filled, Rueshlan stood and the nervous whispers around the room stopped. He looked from fauns to dwarves to centaurs to humans to fairies, his gaze resting briefly on an empty seat.

“Where is Alden?” he asked. “He is the only one I cannot account for.”

“I’m here!” came a cry from the doorway, and Alden rushed in with—to Abisina’s great relief—Haret. He still looked haggard, his eyes sunken, but he managed a hoarse, “Human,” as Alden led him toward the benches.

“Is it true?” a faun called out. “Charach has returned?”

“It is.” A chorus of alarmed cries met Rueshlan’s words. He held out his hand for quiet and continued. “Lohring, Daughter of the Fairy Mother, has talked with several eagles she dispatched to the south during the night. Charach leads a Vranian army due east, destroying the country as he goes. He has shattered communities of dwarves and fauns, taking those who survive as his prisoners. To the north, groups of dwarves, fauns, and some centaurs have raised small bands to try to stop him, but these are pursued by a gang of centaurs who are taking advantage of the chaos. Judging by the number of human bodies left behind, some of the Vranians recognize Charach’s evil and have started to resist.”

Abisina thought of the people she knew. Who among them would have resisted? Corlin, the boy who had saved her from the mob? Magen and Robia, who had worked surreptitiously against the Elders? Were they dead now?

She felt Haret’s eyes on her. When she looked at him, he mouthed the word “Grandmother.”
Surely Hoysta is safe!
she told herself.
She lives north of Vranille, and Rueshlan said that Charach was headed east!

Alden spoke next. “The news is grave indeed. But I see little that Watersmeet can do. Charach is in the piedmont below the Obruns, and we’ve never been involved in the affairs of the south. No disrespect to Rueshlan’s daughter,” he continued, nodding toward Abisina, “but from what we know of the Vranians, they are hardly worth saving. Rueshlan has told us how they treat their own people, not to mention the folk who have lived on that land since—well, since time began, I suppose. It’s no accident that Charach has chosen to return in their villages. Maybe they deserve him!”

“Alden!” Frayda cried. “Think what you’re saying. Have you forgotten Vigar’s teaching—that Watersmeet will aid any creature who needs help? And what of Rueshlan’s daughter? They are her people!”

Abisina’s head shot up. Is this how they saw her? As
Vranian
? But even as she thought this, she heard her mother’s voice: If I were to act as a follower of Vran, I would have had to deny you, and that will never happen. By denying the Vranians, was
she
now denying her mother?

A dwarf spoke, her face reddening underneath her dark skin. “I must agree with Frayda. I have no love for Vranians, but Charach is beyond the evil mere humans—or any of us—can possess.”

“These southerners are not our concern!” a fat faun with copper skin and curly red hair spoke. “They don’t even know we exist! They won’t expect us to help.”

“Barlus!” cried another faun, this one black from head to hoof. “That is no reason not to help them! Are you forgetting what Charach did to us, the trees he slaughtered to dam the rivers in the battle against Vigar? Please do not assume, my friends, that Barlus speaks for all fauns.”

Heated words flew, though Rueshlan remained silent. For a while, Abisina followed the discussion avidly, but as the argument continued to weave around her, she went numb.

A large portion of the Council advocated going after Charach—and traveling into Vranian territory to save the Vranians. Although Abisina had been in Watersmeet only five days, it had become a home—a real home in a way Vranille never was. A great anger welled up in her. Would Charach take this from her, too? Alden was right—the Vranians
deserved
Charach! Her mother had said there was good in the Vranians, but what had Abisina ever seen of that? No, she couldn’t bear one drop of Watersmeet’s blood being spilled to save a Vranian.

But a small voice echoed from the back of her mind. Jorno, Corlin, Paleth—they all tried to help you.

And so many hurt me!
she argued back.
Lilas, Theckis—and
countless others who called me dwarf-dirty, bastard, Outcast. No! She shut down that voice. She had no pity for the Vranians.

Lohring stood to speak, her melodic voice silencing all arguments. “Charach will never be satisfied with the southern side of the Obruns. He will use the Vranians to bring chaos to all the land, from the Mountains Eternal to the farthest reaches of the Obruns, from the sea in the south to the Fens in the north. Saving the Vranians or letting them die—that is not what matters. What matters is stopping Charach.” Lohring drew all eyes to her by invisible threads.

But then the spell of the fairy’s voice was broken. A tall man stood. His eyes were almost as light as the fairies’, and his hair and skin were white, though his cheeks were as smooth as a young man’s. Abisina recognized him from Rueshlan’s feasts but did not know his name.

He spoke slowly: “My ancestors were some of the last to join Vigar in Watersmeet so many years ago, and they suffered until they did. I cannot forget her lessons. I stand with Lohring. We must go south and meet Charach wherever he is—no matter the cost.” Shouts broke out, but Glynholly’s voice rose above the rest.

“My family suffered, too, Neiall,” she said with a pointed look at the white-haired man. “We all did. But I have seen no evidence that Charach is going to launch an attack on the north.”

Lohring spoke again. “You continue to ignore the inevitable, Watersmeet. Charach is well past Vranille, the easternmost village—heading directly toward the Low Col.”

A murmur swept the room.
What is the Low Col?
Abisina asked Haret with her eyes, but he only shook his head.

“The Vranians have never been known to go east,” Alden said doubtfully.

“No Vranian has ever come through the Col,” Glynholly added. “And though it is a lower place to cross the Obruns, it is still very difficult. I suggest we send a small scouting force to monitor the Col. If Charach does intend to move into the north, our scouts can ride to Watersmeet and we will be ready to meet him.”

“The centaurs stand ready to be this small force,” came Kyron’s rumble.

“A small force?” Lohring’s voice shook with rage. “And when he marches through, the centaurs will return to Watersmeet, leaving the fairies’ Motherland as a sacrifice to Charach!” Lohring glared around the room. “I expected more support from Watersmeet!” The fairies stood as one. “We will have no choice but to make a truce with the enemy, to secure our own safety.”

“No!” shouted Frayda. “Watersmeet will not abandon the fairies! What have we been training for all these years? We must stop Charach where he is and free the folk he has already captured.”

At this, the entire Council was up, shouting, pointing, pummeling the air with their fists. Throughout, Rueshlan had sat with his head bowed, as if unaware of the furor around him.

Rueshlan
, Abisina thought.
Father!

He met her eyes as if she had spoken. He smiled sadly and got to his feet. Silence. “I will not turn my back on the fairies,” he said quietly, but his words sank into the stillness like stones in a pool. “Frayda is right. Should we use our training to defend only ourselves? Was that why Vigar established Watersmeet? But I cannot—I
will
not—compel anyone to follow me. We may lose many of our brothers and sisters in this battle. Each of you must decide whether to stand with me. I will go—alone, if I must—through the Low Col and to Charach.”

Rueshlan’s words rang in Abisina’s mind like a death knell. She would lose her father to Charach—just as she had lost her mother.

“Centaurs always stand as one! We ride with Rueshlan!” shouted Kyron, followed by shouts of “Centaurs!”

Next Frayda pledged, then Neiall, and soon the air was full of voices pledging to follow Rueshlan. Even Alden offered his support. Glynholly was the last, waiting until every faun had risen before slowly getting to her feet.

Rueshlan looked around the room. “Thank you,” he said, with his hand to his heart.

Lohring said nothing but glared around the circle as if daring folk to change their minds.

The meeting ended. At a Gathering that evening, Rueshlan would invite all of Watersmeet to march on Charach, if they chose. And then the work would begin—it would take several weeks to ready Watersmeet’s army. Small groups of Council members gathered in the middle of the floor talking excitedly, while others headed toward the bright square of the open doors. Abisina stared at those doors as the sun poured in, wondering how it could be light outside when inside she felt so dark.

“Human.” Haret stood next to her, offering a hand.

“He can’t go, Haret!”

“I know,” he said heavily, helping her off the bench. “Let’s go outside,” he suggested, and they headed toward the doors.

“Abisina!” Rueshlan called to her.

“I’m walking home with Haret, Father,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll meet you there.”

He nodded and turned back toward Frayda and Lohring, who both started speaking at once.

Knots of folk stood talking outside the Council House. “Let’s go to Alden’s,” Haret said. “There’s no one there, and we can talk.” Abisina followed him down one of the trails.

For several minutes they walked without talking, and then Haret paused, scratching his beard.

“What’s wrong?” Abisina asked, pulled out of her jumbled thoughts.

“Don’t know where I am,” he muttered. “Trees! I thought I had this route figured out.”

Abisina took in the gigantic trunks and the three trails that forked in the mottled light. “I don’t know either. I came a different way this morning.”

Haret peered down each of the trails. “They all look exactly the same to me.”

Abisina glanced down the trail that led to the Council House. “That’s the way back.”

“I know the way back. It’s forward I don’t remember! And there’s been too much traffic for me to
taste
the right way. Oh, to be in a cave! I’ll go get someone to lead us, human. You wait here.”

Haret set off, and Abisina sat down on a gnarled root to wait, trying to sort through what she’d heard at the Council meeting. She pulled in her feet and wrapped her arms around her legs, but before she had sat for long, the thud-thud of hooves approached.
Centaurs!
She heard the rumble of voices, and the instinct to escape flooded her. She got up and started down the right-hand trail, but stopped. What if they came that way? As the voices neared, she spied a notch between a root and the trunk of one of the Sylvyads, and she pressed herself into it, praying they would walk by her.

Two centaurs came to the crossroads; one was the palomino, Torden, who had shot the überwolf. Her yellow flanks, white tail, and light skin were bright even in the dim light. The other was a dark chestnut, with spots of white on his hindquarters. The smell of horseflesh brought Abisina right back to the moment she had entered Giant’s Cairn.

“Here’s where we part, Morrell,” Torden said. “I’ll wait in my ward for Kyron. He’ll pass my way when the Council’s finished.”

“Did Kyron say what it was about?”

“He couldn’t tell me. But we’re sure to follow Rueshlan—centaurs always stand together. We cannot let our brother down.”

The centaurs clasped each other’s forearms before turning down two different paths, Torden heading in the same direction as Haret.

Abisina began to unfold and crawl out of her hiding spot, Torden’s words ringing in her ears. Our brother. Kyron had said something like that at the Council: Centaurs always stand as one. We ride with Rueshlan.

An avalanche of images made her sink back onto the root. The height and breadth of all the doors in Rueshlan’s ward: Do centaurs live in more of these houses? she had asked, and her father had said yes. She remembered Rueshlan’s reaction—and the reaction of the whole company—when she had refused to meet the centaurs that first night. His sadness when she told him she could never trust a centaur and his pleading with her to be open to them. His apology to Kyron, asking for “more time” when she had found Kyron in the ward.

It all had new meaning now. It all spoke to the truth.

Her father was a shape-shifter—a demon like Charach. Rueshlan could shift his shape from man to—and as the word formed in her head, she almost fainted—
centaur
.