Jilimar

JILIMAR

by Marcelle Dubé

PUBLISHED BY

Falcon Ridge Publishing

Jilimar copyright © 2014 by Marcelle Dubé

Image copyright © Ancello via Depositphotos

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, in whole or in part in any form.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER 1

Madness. Anevay closed her eyes against the sight of the farmer's body, but it did not help. The smell of violent death filled her nostrils as obscenely as the sound of scavenging insects filled her ears.

Fear clenched in her stomach like a fist.

He must have forgotten his cleansing ritual once too often and lost his temper when he found the beelit eating his garden.

Hector stood silently by her side, not touching, but there if she needed him.

She finally opened her eyes and brushed aside a strand of white hair that had worked its way loose from her braid. She lowered her hand when she noticed it was trembling.

The farmer lay on his side on the pile of grain, his shoulder hunched up as if he were cold. He wore a cloth cap over his thinning hair and his lined face looked weary, as though he had just settled down after a day of hard work. The long, golden stalks beneath him were stained black.

If it weren't for the deep slit in his throat and the stubby, blood-stained work knife clutched in his hand, he would seem to be sleeping.

Third one in two weeks, said Hector softly, almost to himself.

Three violent deaths in two weeks. How many others had she not learned of yet?

Hector looked at her, his face lined and pale with worry.

He is too old for this, thought Anevay. He should go back home, to his Earth. He has no idea what is coming.

She almost laughed then. She had no clear idea what was coming, either. Maybe she should go with him.

After centuries of peace, the Foulers were back. How had the Maavins dealt with the Foul Ones back then? How had they chased them back to their own world?

Despair welled up in her, making her bones ache, robbing her of courage. Her people needed a younger ruler, one whose power and gift were still strong. The thought of her son jolted through her. Tohmay would be a good Maavin for the nightmare time to come, once he remembered who he was.

But only if she chose to bring him back home.

Anevay swallowed her fear as she picked out one still shape after another in the sunlit courtyard and beyond, in the field. The farmer had killed every beast he owned, even a jabok, before setting fire to his home and killing himself.

In spite of the morning's coolness, a fine sweat had broken out all over her body. Were people to pay with their lives for relaxing their guard? For daring to believe they were safe?

Hector was right. He should have come alone to the farm. As Maavin of Druan, she belonged at home, in Maavinar City, where the Sandeval envoy awaited her pleasure to discuss right of passage on Druan land. She should be at the Maavinar, politely but firmly refusing his request.

But she had needed to see for herself.

The other two incidents had been rumors from across the Sandeval border. This one was close, a report brought to them by a breathless peddler.

And so she and Hector had stolen away like thieves in the night, not wanting to alarm anyone until they knew. A rumor like this would unsettle Druan, would leave her people vulnerable.

She had ordered the peddler to remain silent about what he had seen, but how many people had he spoken to in the time it had taken him to walk to the Maavinar from the farm?

She turned stiffly, her hips aching from the ten-mile ride in the rough cart. The cart remained on the dirt road, where the jaboks pulling it had stopped and refused to go on. They had smelled the blood.

Part of the farmhouse's roof had caved in, although the stone walls remained standing. Smoke still drifted from the dark maw of the empty doorway. A small granary not far from the house had collapsed into smoldering ruins.

She and Hector moved away from the farmer's body, searching. Anevay did not know what she was looking for—a clue, something that would stamp untrue on the terrible fear growing in her heart.

Save for the bayan in the fields, nothing moved in the early morning sunshine. The stalks bowed in unison in the breeze, ready for harvesting. Several pens near the house stood open, and empty of animals. Beyond the destroyed house was another field of bayan, and between the house and the nearest pen, a garden lush with vegetables and flowers. The beelit lay dead among the flowers closest to the edge.

This was a prosperous farm, the fields rich, the animals well fed. All wasted.

Moving gradually warmed her, although she wished she had worn a heavier shirt under her tunic. She glanced sideways at Hector, noting for the first time that his tunic and pants were mismatched. He had dressed hurriedly, as had she. His gray hair and beard shone like silver in the sunlight.

He looked as grim as she felt, though he could not possibly appreciate her fear. He had not grown up with stories about the Foulers. He had adopted the Druan cleansing rituals, but he did not understand the need for them.

She did.

She stared at the dead man, a terrible weariness stealing into every sinew, every bone in her body.

Too old.

Now, when Druan needed its Maavin most, she did not know if there was anything left of her gift to give.

The morning breeze caressed her, bringing with it the spicy fragrance of flame trees from the Valley of Fire. This unmistakable sign of fall only added to her fear.

I need my son, she said softly.

She had long ago accepted that Tohmay was lost to her. Her only comfort had been that he was happy in his strange new life, even if he no longer remembered her, or his own world. Now, she was about to compound her original mistake of letting him go by dragging him back. Tohmay. A man now.

She turned to look at Hector. I need Tohmay.

He stared down at her, his expression stern. He is happy where he is.

She felt her own face harden into inflexibility. You must bring him back.

Hector said nothing for a long moment, then he sighed softly. And his wife?

A reflexive shudder ran through Anevay. She does not belong here.

Hector's expression became blank, as it always did when they discussed the woman. He won't thank you, he said finally.

Anevay turned away.

Nevertheless. Bring him back.

CHAPTER 2

The outline of the roof was knife sharp against the moonlit sky. Owen switched off the ignition and the truck lights and let peace seep back into him.

Home. Finally.

He sat and stared at the house, smiling. Leah had left a light on in the kitchen, even though he wasn't due home until tomorrow afternoon. He knew without asking her that she had done the same thing for the last six nights, ever since he had left. He had told her once that it wasn't necessary, that he didn't mind coming home to darkness. She just smiled and kept the light on for him. Now he couldn't imagine coming home to a dark house.

He hated these out-of-town landscaping jobs as much as she did, but they were part of his business. He could leave them for his workers, but they hated them, too. And they liked having the boss suffer along with them.

The motion-sensitive light above the mud room door clicked on as he eased himself out of the truck, stiff from the long drive. In the distance, an owl hooted. He breathed in the smells of home—damp grass, cedar bushes from the garden, composting leaves from the forest surrounding the house—and smiled again. Even the dissipating smell of exhaust fumes smelled good right now. The lawn would need mowing at least once more before the cold finally convinced it to stop growing. Rotating his shoulders, he walked around the truck and eyed the pails, shovels, hoses, pots, and leftover bags of peat moss in the truck bed.

Tomorrow, he said firmly.

He would put a tarp over everything. In the morning he would unload the truck, clean his tools, and do the paperwork. Then he would take Leah out for dinner.

All he wanted right now was to take a long, hot shower, and crawl into bed with his wife. And wake her up.

With that thought cheering him on, he pulled his duffel bag out of the back and rooted around for a tarp. There it was, under the hoses.

A sudden prickling along his arms made him stop. Someone was out there. Watching him. He pulled out a shovel with a loud clang.

Owen.

Relief merged into pleasure. Hector, he said to the figure that detached itself from the shadows on the deck. One of these days I'm going to get a dog.

Heard you drive in, said the old man, a smile in his voice.

Hector was his nearest neighbor and lived a quarter-mile away by road. They had worn a shortcut between their homes in the two years since Owen and Leah had moved in. Surely he hadn't traveled that wooded path at night?

The light over the mud room door lit Hector's face from below, masking his eyes and casting shadows under his high cheekbones. He looked fierce, like an ancient druid.

Owen replaced the shovel in the back and scooped up his duffel bag before bounding up the stairs of the deck. Come inside, he said, placing a hand on the other man's arm. It's cold out here.

Hector shook his head, resisting Owen's gentle pull.

No, thank you, lad. I don't want to keep you. A faint lilt in his voice hinted at his Scottish homeland, even after thirty years in Canada. I just wanted you to taste this one.

Owen laughed at his neighbor's obsession. Hector's beer. God.

It's almost midnight, Hector. Why not ask Leah in the morning? You know she's a better judge of beer.

Never mind that she didn't like Hector. At least she liked beer. As much as he liked Hector, he couldn't stand the man's brew.

He didn't understand Leah's instinctive distrust of Hector, just as she didn't understand why Owen liked the old man so much. Owen couldn't explain without hurting her. Hector treated him like a son. He made Owen feel like had family instead of a black hole where his past ought to be.

I made this one with you in mind, said Hector, a peculiar note in his voice. I'll turn you into a beer drinker yet.

Owen stifled a sigh and let his duffel bag thump to the deck in defeat. He accepted the small sample bottle. It was late, and he was tired, but this wasn't the first time Hector waited until Leah was asleep before wandering over to visit. This visit had more to do with loneliness than with beer.

The old man had a nephew somewhere back in Scotland, but they never saw each other. Owen had the feeling that Hector didn't approve of his nephew.

Well? Hector's voice prompted him.

With a silent salute to the older man, Owen took a sip. It was too yeasty, and left a bitter aftertaste. Like most beer. Not bad, he said politely. There's a bit of an aftertaste.

Really? said Hector softly. He had turned his back to the moon to face Owen, leaving his face in shadows. Try it again—it grows on you.

Owen doubted that beer would ever grow on him. Still, if it meant he'd get to bed sooner… He finished the small sample and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I'm sorry, old friend, he said. You know I'm no good at this. Now, Leah… The stars began to dance and his voice trailed off. I'm… He gagged as the bitter aftertaste surged back. His sense of balance suddenly abandoned him and he clutched at the deck railing to keep from toppling over. Hector…

It's all right, Tohmay, murmured Hector, stepping close to steady him. Then someone else was behind Owen, catching him as he fell, keeping him from crashing to the deck. Between the dancing stars and the roar in his ears, Owen thought he saw two figures bending over him.

There followed an eternity of bobbing up and down, and the sound of an engine. Vibration traveled through him and he dimly realized he was being driven over a bumpy, dark track.

More darkness, then voices.

You can't stay!

Something is wrong… a smell… The voice fell away as darkness surged once more only to ebb again.

…guards. Watch for my return. You have Tohmay, now go!

Owen finally lost consciousness, the echo of the stranger's words catching at his attention like a burr on cloth.

Tohmay.

***

Leah got up early and put on her sweats. If she hurried, she could get her run in, finish Mrs. Eckbert's statements, deliver them, and be back before Owen got home. She grinned in anticipation, imagining the look on his face when she told him that the pregnancy test had been positive.

Every time he called, she hugged the knowledge to herself. This was something she wanted to tell him in person. No one knew except for her sister, Emily. They had met for coffee downtown the day Leah found out. Em had taken one look at her face and known. Just as she had known when Leah and Owen decided to marry.

Leah smiled and drank her orange juice standing by the kitchen window. Em was a great mother to Tully and Sam. She would make a great auntie.

It had rained overnight and raindrops glittered like diamonds on every leaf and blade of grass. Yellow poplar leaves peeked through the green like scattered gold coins. The three greenhouses glinted in the field just beyond the line of trees marching alongside the driveway. She should pick the last of the tomatoes. They could finish ripening on the kitchen window sill.

Juice finished, she placed the empty glass in the sink and turned away from the window. Then she turned back, staring.

Owen's truck was parked in its usual spot next to her Nissan. He was home!

Owen!

Silence. He must still be outside.

She hurried to the deck. Owen? Only the lazy chirp of a bird answered her. She ran down the deck stairs and stopped by the pickup. The wet hood was cold beneath her hand.

The first tendril of worry crept into her heart. Owen was home but he hadn't come inside. Or had he? Maybe he hadn't wanted to wake her.

She ran back inside and quickly checked the basement, the spare room, the bathroom on the main floor. Puzzled, she went back to the deck, only then noticing the duffel bag. She stopped and stared at it, trying to understand.

It was soaking wet, as if it had spent the night outdoors.

No need to panic. He could easily have forgotten it outside when he went… wherever it was he went.

Mouth dry, she returned to the driveway, walking jerkily, trying to think.

The back of his truck was full of his landscaping tools. They were covered in dirt, and now were wet. Worry bloomed into fear. Owen would never leave his tools out in the rain.

Owen! She walked down the driveway, scanning the woods on either side for signs of him.

Still calling his name, she turned down the old logging road that led to the garden. As she cleared the last barrier of trees, the familiar sight of row upon row of shrubs and seedlings growing in orderly procession calmed her. Over ten acres of land in the center of their property were given over to gardens and greenhouses, all to supply Owen's growing landscaping business.

Walking among the seedlings was like touching him. She passed the wild rose bushes he had so carefully transplanted for her. She hadn't thought they would survive, but here they were, promising to bless her again with fragrance in the spring.

Where the hell was he?

She peered into each greenhouse. Empty.

Finally, she sat down on a log that served as a bench. She couldn't think of a single reason why Owen would arrive safely from a long road trip in the middle of the night only to wander off into the bush.

Maybe he had gone to Hector's. She considered, then discounted the possibility. Owen spent a lot of time at Hector's, but he would never have left without telling her.

She had to check it out. Rising, she brushed the seat of her sweatpants. Her hands trembled and she balled them into fists as she walked past the greenhouses again. For the first time, she noticed the morning's stillness. There was only the sound of her feet on the dry stalks and twigs. She glanced up at the sky. Maybe a hawk was hunting.

Then, just as she stepped onto the logging road, something made her look back.

At the far end of the garden stood a creature that couldn't exist.

Her mind struggled to accept what her eyes were telling her. Her mouth parted as her breathing quickened. Even at a distance of nearly two hundred yards, it was huge. Outlined against the dark fir trees, its white fur was blinding. It was almost six feet at the shoulders and stood between her and the house.

Her mind took the time to identify it as a very big, very white dog. Then her body took over, pumping adrenaline into cold muscles and sending her hurtling up the old logging road toward the gravel driveway. Maybe it hadn't seen her…

She threw a glance over her shoulder. It had seen her, and was already rounding the tree barrier. So fast! She nearly stumbled as panic surged through her. With a desperate burst of speed, she pounded up the road.

Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps, as much of fear as of exertion. Trees, she suddenly thought. Climb!

Then a high-pitched ululation sounded so near her that she lurched and almost fell. She glanced over her shoulder and a shiver of horror raced up her scalp. The creature was so close she could see its red, feral eyes fixed intently on her.

It would catch her before she could climb a tree. Her only hope was to take to the woods. She was smaller and could move faster through the trees.

But before she could veer off into the forest, a man stepped out of the woods and onto the driveway in front of her.

Leah staggered to a stop, barely ten feet away from him. He stood calmly, legs braced, arms up in an odd position. It took her a moment to realize he was holding a drawn bow with a nocked arrow.

Jesus! He was going to shoot her.

She threw herself to the ground. Gravel ground into her belly, knees, and elbows, but she didn't feel any pain. Grabbing a handful of the sharp rocks, she raised her head just in time to see him loose the arrow. It would have gone over her right shoulder, had she still been standing.

Behind her, the monster screamed. Leah scrambled to her feet and whirled in time to see the beast fall into a mass of cinquefoil bushes less than twenty feet behind her. She felt the thud of its fall through the thick soles of her running shoes. The sensation continued up her legs and her trunk until her whole body trembled in shock.

It looked like a mastiff, with powerful shoulders and haunches, a broad skull, and large, drooping ears. An arrow stuck out of its neck and its eyes were open in death. Eyes on the front of its head, she noted distantly. Predator. She stared at the long white mound, riveted by the startling contrast of blood against the beast's white pelt and the bright yellow cinquefoil flowers.

Move, she thought. Then the stranger was at her side and pulling on her wrist. He said something in an urgent tone of voice, but she didn't understand him through the pounding in her ears. She stared at him, taking in the shoulder-length, curly hair held back in a ponytail, the graying beard, the green of his tunic. A sword in a scabbard stuck up over his left shoulder. He held the bow in the hand not pulling at her.

He spoke again and she kept staring at him, trying to make sense of the senseless world she had suddenly dropped into. Something bit into the flesh of her palm. She opened her hand and rocks tumbled out.

Then from a distance came the ululations of another beast, and the hackles on the back of her neck rose. Without warning, the stranger began running, pulling her along behind him.

CHAPTER 3

Cerdic glanced over his shoulder at the woman running behind him. Her fair hair was drawn up in a high ponytail that bobbed with every step she took. Deep brown eyes stared back at him from a face flushed with exertion, and he turned back to the path.

The Maavin's request had seemed such a small one. A little time in a strange place, she had said, to help bring her son home. She had failed to mention that the sky was the wrong color and the sun too hot. She had not told him about the short nights and the small moon. And the smell! She had not warned him about the smell in this place.

Four days he had watched the woman, before Tohmay returned to his home. Hector had said that it was not necessary, that he could wait in comfort in Hector's home until Tohmay returned from his trip, but watching her kept the strangeness of this place from overwhelming him. Besides, he was curious about the woman Tohmay had chosen.

Yesterday was the worst of it, when she left in the noisy, metal cart. He had tried pursuing her, running through the trees bordering the road, but she easily outdistanced him.

Hector smiled his crooked smile when Cerdic ran to his house with the news. He assured Cerdic that the metal carts were commonplace and fairly safe. This did not reassure Cerdic. He waited with mounting anxiety until she finally returned, apparently unharmed, hours later.

A strange place.

He had followed the woman every morning as she left her fragile wooden dwelling to run for two daicks. She stood a head and a half below his height, with a body that was all curves and sleek muscles. She obviously enjoyed the running, though he could not understand why. He puzzled over this habit of hers and finally decided that this was her cleansing ritual.

A strenuous but practical ritual. It allowed her to escape the hunting haak and to keep up with him. He berated himself for not being better prepared, but until he saw the haak pounding down the road after her, he had not realized that she was in danger. At least he had had the presence of mind to bring weapons to Hector's disturbing world.

He had sensed something wrong the moment they arrived at the gate with Tohmay. A strange scent rode the air, a smell that did not belong. Hector smelled nothing, but Cerdic trusted his instincts. He was a protector, after all.

That smell was from Jilimar, though he could not place it. Someone had used the gate after he and the old man had come through. Which meant that someone else knew of the gate. He told Hector to warn Anevay, and to post guards on the Jilimar side of the gate. To his credit, the old man did not argue once he realized that Cerdic meant to remain behind.

Concern growing, Cerdic had spent the rest of the night searching for the source of the smell, trying to place it.

Now he knew it was the haaks he had smelled. Haaks always hunted in pairs.

There had been no mention of taking the woman to Jilimar, but he could not protect her here. She would be safer on Jilimar. In Druan.

The woman remained behind him though the path they followed was wide enough for two. Another daick to go.

If she did not know of the existence of the portal, she would walk through it and never cross over. He knew so little about the gate and how it worked. He would have to cross over before her, to show that it existed. But what if his disappearance frightened her? What if she ran? The other haak might find her before he did.

He ran on, worrying the problem, until he realized with a shock that she was no longer behind him. He turned and ran back to her. She was leaning over with her hands on her knees, breathing hard. He stopped a few paces from her, mindful of the wariness in her stance.

Come, he said, knowing she would not understand him. We must keep going.

She turned troubled eyes to him and he almost sighed in sympathy. First, her husband disappeared. Then a haak chased her, only to be killed by a stranger who led her deeper into the forest. The fact that he had saved her life gave her a measure of trust in him, but the look in her eye told him not to abuse it.

She straightened and spoke, her hand pressed against her ribs as if she had a pain. He understood nothing of what she said, save for the word Owen, which she had called out when she searched the grounds. With sudden clarity, he realized it must be Tohmay's name here.

He nodded vigorously and pulled the cloth pouch from its resting place inside his shirt. He untied it from the thong around his neck and removed the peculiar parchment with Tohmay's likeness. This he handed to her. She looked up at him, eyes filled with bewilderment. She flipped the parchment over and read the words Hector had written there. Her face tightened and she frowned.

Cerdic?

He nodded with relief and touched his forehead, chest, belly and groin. Cerdic, he confirmed. Then he pointed at her. Leah.

The frown did not leave her face. Again she spoke. This time he understood two words: Owen and Hector.

He nodded again and pointed at the parchment. Hector gave me this. He said it would help. He looked at her hopefully, but she was still unsure. Slowly he reached for her hand and drew her back onto the path, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

He saw the decision in her eyes. She was still unsure of him, but she would trust him a little further.

A few minutes later, he released her hand and stepped between two trees, his feet soundlessly brushing aside fallen leaves. A rich smell rose to surround them, like home after a rain. Suddenly, his head swiveled as if turned by an unseen hand. He took a deep breath. The gate was close.

He kept going, keeping her by his side. He hadn't heard the haak in a while, but he knew better than to believe they were safe. Hunting haaks never gave up as long as they had a scent.

Moments later, he stopped. Here. In the morning light, the gate shimmered like a curtain in the breeze. Through it he caught a glimpse of stars. It was nighttime at home.

The woman noticed nothing. Of course not. With a sigh, he carefully placed the bow and arrows on the ground, then unslung the pack, laid it on the damp ground and crouched to rummage for the bottle.

It contained the potion that would render her unconscious for the transition. He had enough left, even after lacing Tohmay's… what had Hector called it? Beer? Bitter stuff.

The woman settled herself at the base of a well-leafed tree. He spared her a glance, noting how wearily she closed her eyes, how tightly her lips pressed together. She needed food and rest, both of which he would provide on Jilimar. She began massaging the long muscles of her thighs and he returned to his search. There.

He pulled out a small stoppered vial half-filled with clear liquid. He stood up, removed the stopper, and offered her the bottle. She took it and sniffed it, then looked at him questioningly.

Cerdic tried to hide his disappointment. He had hoped that she would assume it was a refreshment. But now she was looking at him, obviously expecting an explanation. Behind him, the shimmering gate awaited. Although she looked directly at it, she seemed unable to see it. Cerdic glanced back at the faint disturbance in the air, at the glimmer of stars beyond it, and felt the undeniable pull of his world through the gate. It was so strong, he was amazed she did not feel it. But then, she was already home.

He mimed a drinking motion and then rubbed his flat stomach, hoping to make her understand that it was good and she should drink. She laughed, but shook her head. Then she said a few words, and the determined tilt of her chin told him he would need more than buffoonery to convince her.

You must drink, he told her earnestly. It will enable you to cross over. I fear for your safety if we remain here.

But she shook her head again, this time rising to her feet. Although swaying slightly, she faced him squarely and spoke again. This time there was a pronounced edge to her voice. He understood nothing, save again Tohmay's other name, Owen. They were running out of time. He would have to show her where the gate was by crossing over himself. He hoped his instincts were right about her.

Then came the eerie, ululating cry of a hunting haak. They both spun toward the sound. Cerdic scanned the surrounding woods.

The bow lay at his feet. He scooped it up. Hefting the heavy weapon, he considered their options. The beast would be upon them in moments. How many had crossed over from Jilimar?

He could try to shoot it, as he had the first one, but if he missed, the haak might get the woman. He had seen what they did to their prey. It was safer to cross over. The haak would not follow without its master, and its master would expect the other side of the gate to be guarded.

Maybe she could cross over if he carried her.

Decision made, he slung the bag and bow over his shoulder. Then he swept the woman into his arms and turned toward the gate. At once she turned into a fury, flailing at him with fists and nails.

Stop! he cried, unable to defend himself. Then he looked down at her, and the expression on her face stole the strength from his limbs. He had never been the cause of fear before. He dropped her and the bag fell with a thud on the mossy ground. She landed on her feet and scrambled away from him. He stood helplessly, watching the small trust that had grown between them crumble into nothing.

She opened her mouth to speak. Just then the howling came again, this time so close that they both jumped.

His instincts overruled his training. As she turned her ashen face to him, he struck her against the temple.

She crumpled without a sound and he barely had time to break her fall. With one controlled heave he lifted her over his free shoulder, scooped up the bag and strode through the gateway.

It was only as he stepped onto the soil of home that he became aware of the tears streaming down his face.

He did not have long to consider his shame. Stepping away from the gate, he glanced around. He was in a stand of balar trees. As his earlier glimpse of stars had indicated, it was night here. A breeze caressed his cheek, welcoming him home with the distant scent of flame trees. High above, the shadow sister glowed palely behind the moon, diffused by clouds, like an almost forgotten memory.

A movement, and he saw that some of what he had taken for trees were men, standing very still.

It is Cerdic, he said softly, wiping the wetness from his face. The clouds parted and he saw the look of shock on their faces. Had they witnessed his disgrace?

Then he realized that they had never seen anyone use the gate before. He had been alone with Hector, four days ago. Although they must have been told what to expect, most of them would find it hard to believe that there even was a gate there. They could not feel its pull. To them, he must have appeared suddenly, seemingly out of thin air.

A haak was almost upon us, he told them. He looked around at the group of still figures. It might yet decide to cross over. When still no one moved, he asked sharply, Is there at least a healer among you?

Finally one figure stepped forward—a gray-haired woman, a blacksmith, by the strength in her bare arms.

No healer, she said softly. There was a tension in the way she carried herself that suddenly made him wary. These people had been set to guard the portal and watch for his arrival. They had expected him.

What is it? he lowered his voice to match hers.

Foulers have been sighted, said the woman, and there was an uneasy rustling in the shadows behind her.

The weight of the woman on his shoulder was becoming uncomfortable. Tales to frighten children, he said sternly. In the night, all trees whisper of fear.

If he hoped to embarrass her, he failed. The woman looked back at him calmly.

They are no longer children's tales, and the trees whisper the truth. Come, she said, before he could continue to scoff.

She turned, and at her signal, four figures fell in behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, Cerdic saw at least as many more melting back into the shadows.

They followed a trail away from the gate, into the trees. He glanced back. On this side of the gate, and without Hector to point it out to him, he would never find it again. In the distance, the river rushed into the night, hurrying their steps.

One man offered to carry the woman for him. Although Cerdic was tired, he refused. She was in his care.

The silent procession moved swiftly through the trees for less than half a daick until they came to a clearing. The breeze cooled the sweat on Cerdic's body and brought a strange scent to his attention. He looked around. Half a dozen animals stood quietly at the far end of the clearing, their long, graceful legs disappearing into the tall grass. With growing awe, he realized that these were not the sturdy jaboks he had expected. They were feltou.

A form detached itself from the shadows, and whispering a reassuring word to the feltou, turned to face them. Cerdic stared at him. This one understood feltou, and was understood by them. A thrill ran through him.

The gray-haired leader halted within a few feet of the man and they spoke softly. After a moment, she returned to Cerdic.

He says the big one at the far end will carry both you and the woman.

Cerdic swallowed.

The smith smiled gently. The feltou has agreed.

Cerdic nodded and forced himself to walk over to the feltou, the weight on his shoulder growing heavier with every step. Finally he stopped before the animal and, controlling a trembling in his limbs, spoke.

I thank you for helping us in our time of need.

The feltou snorted and nodded, and stood still while Cerdic attempted to clamber up without dropping his burden. Finally the leader took the woman from him and he climbed onto the broad, warm back. It took a moment to control his uneasiness, then he reached down, and with the smith's help, placed the woman gently on the animal's back. He gathered up as much of the feltou's mane as he could in one hand, supporting the woman with his other arm. Her head rested against his chest.

For a moment anguish threatened to break free, but he whispered a cleansing phrase and put the feeling away. He would take her home, where Jaavine would look after her. As for him… he would pay the price for his crime if and when the time came. For now, he would enjoy his freedom while it lasted.

The others also mounted, and they moved away from the glade, back to the trail, which soon widened into a path. It had taken him and Hector a long day on a cart and on foot to cover the ten daicks from his farm to the gate. But now he rode a feltou. He would be home before the moon set.

Cerdic breathed deeply of the clean scent of ripe bayan. As they rode through fields of the grain, he wondered if Meir had finished harvesting yet. The breeze caressed his face, with no hint of the wildness soon to come.

In spite of the uneasy silence among the riders, he rode with a desperate joy. Every knoll, every moon-gilded dip in the valley floor was familiar to him. Home.

Five daicks later, they reached the main road to Maavinar City, left the path and turned onto the road. Cerdic squeezed the feltou with his legs to indicate his desire to stop.

I will take her to my home, he told the gray-haired woman when she glanced back at him. It is closer than the Maavinar and she needs care.

The woman nodded, accepting this change of plans. We will escort you, then report to the Maavin that you have returned safely.

There is no need for an escort, said Cerdic. He left unsaid his feeling that their fears were foolish.

Nevertheless. The woman smiled grimly and allowed him to lead the way.

***

Meir was asleep when her daughter, ever the light sleeper, shook her awake.

I hear something, whispered Jaavine excitedly. Meir flung off the heavy blankets and donned the pants she had left in a pile on the floor when she undressed that night. The night before? She spared a glance out the window. The moon had circled to the far side of the house. It was almost morning. She cast about for something to cover her bare chest and smiled her thanks as her daughter handed her the tunic she had tossed in a corner.

Not bothering with shoes, Meir headed for the door and grabbed a heavy wool cloak hanging on a peg. Jaavine, who slept clothed,