Chapter Eighteen
“Ice,” Vren smiled under his hood as the pellets came down. “Perfect.”
Dust’s ears flicked in agreement.
“She’s going to have to go to ground,” Vren said. “We should take advantage.”
Dust rumbled a half-growl.
“We won’t loose her,” Vren replied. “If necessary, we’ll back track and I will cry like a babe again. For now, we need to see to us.”
The vore sneezed and pulled away, pointing her nose towards the woods off to the west.
“Lead on,” he said, and followed.
His shoulders were tight with exhaustion, but he fought it back. They needed shelter, secure from prying eyes. The icy rain was just a drizzle now, the leaves under his feet sodden and wet, ice forming on the branches. Vren walked soft, leaving little trace, as he had been trained.
Dust led him to a deer path, then trotted along it, her head moving from side to side. Vren knew she was scenting for threats, human or otherwise. He trusted her judgment; her senses were far more dependable than his.
As he’d been taught, he kept his mind clear, not thinking of what had happened or would happen, focusing on the “now,” eyes open and aware. Each step came after another and another.
Dust stopped and Vren raised his hood to see a small mud and waddle hut, deep in the woods. He stood, listening. “Abandoned?”
As Vren ducked his head and entered, Dust shook water out of her fur, then followed.
It was clear that the hut had not been used in some time. There was a dirt floor with a fire pit in the center and a smoke hole above. It was small—Vren couldn’t straighten up. But it seemed sturdy, with no sign of leaking. Everything else that might have indicated human inhabitants was gone, stripped bare.
Vren frowned. As safe as it seemed, the hut was not a good idea. “Risky,” he said. “I was thinking a cave, or maybe a nice hollow tree, if—”
Dust grumbled and leaned against his hip.
Vren considered. He wasn’t the only one tired and hungry. One night seemed safe enough, if he set wards and took precautions. He nodded, then put down his pack to take off his cloak. “We’ll risk it.” He shifted to hang his cloak over the door.
Dust slipped back outside before he secured the fabric.
He knelt by the empty fire pit, facing the circle, took a breath, and centered himself.
“The death of earth is the birth of water, the death of water, the birth of air, the death of air is the birth of fire, the death of fire, the birth of earth. Elements, aid me in the circle of birth and death and birth again until the skies darken and the stars no longer shine.”
It was harder here than in the Wastes; the elements here were not used to being roused. The earth responded slowly, in ever wider circles around him, expanding out around the hut and through the forest. Vren closed his eyes, feeling the air and water around the hut grow heavy with mist and fog.
“Ward us,” Vren asked, chanting the ancient words. “Warn us. Whisper of those that tread within.”
The earth rumbled reassurance and sent him echoes of Dust’s movements. She was hunting. There was a small stream close by; its waters sought to comfort him. The elements offered strength to one who walked with them, and he drew it in, grateful that they shared their power. After another breath, Vren opened his eyes.
In the center of the fire pit danced a small flame, without tinder, kindling, or smoke.
“We thank the elements,” Vren whispered. He stretched, feeling his tension ease. Taking off his baby sling and wrapping the doll in it, he set it to one side. Still on his knees, he unfolded his bedroll. The air around hm warmed and the thatched roof rustled as the heat rose.
A soft whine from outside told him that Dust had returned and he eased out to find her with two fresh rabbit carcasses in her mouth. She dropped them at his feet, her tongue lolling.
“Yes, you can have my gizzards,” Vren said. “But I am cooking my meat.”
Dust led him to the stream, where he got to work gutting the rabbits, flicking the innards at Dust, who caught them neatly. The trees held back most of the rain and ice, but it was cold. Vren made short work of it, then washed his hands and knife and filled his water skin.
Back at the hut, he held the cloak aside just enough for them both to slip past, trying to keep any escaping light to a minimum. A wave of heat swept over his face.
Dust settled by the fire and blinked at him sleepily. Vren set her share of the rabbit in front of her and sat on his bedroll. He cut his meat from the bone and spitted the strips.
Yawning, he dug a small bowl from his pack and piled the bones, and what meat still clung to them, into it. He added water and set the bowl by the fire to stew. He’d have something warm for the morning.
Dust had finished her meal and was starting her grooming routine.
Vren’s shoulders eased further, as warmth surrounded him. He snatched at the sizzling meat strips as soon as they’d cooked, sucking the juices from his fingers. A few sips of water and he’d be ready for sleep.
Dust yawned. Her coarse black fur was drying and she rolled onto her side, belly toward the fire. With the wards in place, neither of them needed to keep watch, but Vren wasn’t sure he could relax enough to sleep. He stretched out on the blankets, stared into the dancing flame, and tried to organize his thoughts. Sleep claimed him between one breath and the next.
Hours later, an odd crackling pulled his eyes open and Vren sat up, blinking at the flame, which now pulsed with a faint blue light at its core. Dust lifted her head as well, then rose, shook herself, and came to sit beside him.
Vren arranged himself sat cross-legged, facing the flame, rubbing the sleep from his face and running his fingers through his hair. He cast his senses out and the elements sent back a pulse of peace and safety.
Dust was already staring at the flame. Vren narrowed his eyes, and his focus, and cast his thoughts within.
The blue flame rose around him and embraced him before fading.
Vren opened his eyes to find himself sitting in a senel circle, within one of the winter lodges of the Wastes.
A brazier burned before him, but he felt no heat. The marcusi around him, passing gurt and mugs of kavage, nodded their welcomes with warm smiles. Elements, he could almost smell the kavage.
All his training had taught him to control his reactions, but his spine still stiffened to see The Liam seated across the flames. The eldest of their order and master of the elements, the man sat tall and straight, his mostly bald head shining in the light of the fire, which limned the wisps of white hair off to the sides of his face.
“Vren? Dust? Welcome, both of you,” the Liam said. “We decided to risk contact, though the link is tenuous and could fail. How fare you both?”
Vren braced himself, then turned his head. Flickering beside him was a woman, outlined in blue light. As she always chose, Dust was naked, one leg drawn up with her arms clasped around the bended knee. As she always chose, she was ageless, her eyes wise and weary.
Behind her, in the shadows, other images moved and blurred. Other animal shapes. A wolf was one, a fox another, with others not easily identified. They never came to the fore, always in the background when she was in spirit form.
Here, only here, could he see the vore in her human guise, hear her speak, try to know her mind and thoughts. Dust was timeless, eternal and a mystery. All the vore were.
“We are well,” Dust said, her low and husky tones sending a shiver down Vren’s spine. “For now, we are warm and safe. But we have tidings that will bring you grief.”
That was also Dust. Never one to cushion pain.
“Speak,” the Liam commanded. “We dare not risk keeping you here long.”
Dust gave Vren the nod to speak.
Vren let his head dip, acknowledging the charge. “Master, Xywellan and Queen Kara are dead on the field of battle. The Wyvern House of Xy has won the day, and they move to secure the throne and the city of Edenrich.”
Eyes glittered around the fire.
The Liam broke the silence. “May the skies hear our voices. May the people remember.”
The response rose, “We will remember.”
Vren joined in the chant as they all spoke in one voice. “Death of earth, birth of water, death of water, birth of air, death of air, birth of fire, death of fire, birth of earth.”
As the last echo of the chant died away, the Liam spoke. “Is it perhaps too much to expect that the Blood of Xy that we were sworn to protect will now stop slaughtering each other?” His voice carried pain and frustration.
Vren opened his mouth to speak, but the Liam raised a hand. “Wait.” He held his hand out to toward the fire.
The others followed his gesture. The flames rose. Vren felt the surge of power, strengthening him and the wards around them.
Dust shifted next to him, uneasy.
The Liam noticed. “Forgive us. But there is a need.”
“Yes,” she said shortly. All knew the vore hated magic after what had been done to them long ago. They tolerated the power of the elements so long as it was not used in unnatural ways, but took little comfort in it.
“Tell us your news, Vren,” the Liam commanded.
Vren started at the beginning, telling of the summons through the token, of finding Xykara with the babe in her arms. Of his escape and flight with the wet nurse and the babes.
“What do we know of this wet nurse? Amari, you said,” one of the other Elders asked.
“Nothing,” Vren admitted. “But Kara chose her.”
The Liam frowned. “Kara also chose to enter battle pregnant and close to her time. I can be pardoned for doubting her.”
Dust huffed. “There was no other choice, in order to flee with a newborn.”
“Amari gave me no reason not to trust her,” Vren added. “Orval is known to us, and he swore the oath.”
“You should have fled with the babe, brought her to us,” another Elder insisted.
“Risky enough to flee with a newborn. Riskier still, to travel with one any great distance.” Yet another Elder spoke. “Winter comes on.”
“Then there is this,” Vren reached out his hand and formed the mental image of the vial. The blood within shone bright red. “Xykara gave me her blood memories.”
“You have the permissions?” The Liam leaned forward.
“Yes,” Vren said. “And one other thing.” He held up the key and the ring he had found when he’d changed the babe.
“The Ring of Xy,” the Liam breathed.
“Skies above, is that a mage key?” The elder closest to Vren squinted at the thing in Vren’s hand.
“It was sewn into Xylara’s nappy,” Vren explained. “A few stitches secured it, as if done in haste.”
“Xywellan had a Chained Mage, did he not? What do we know of him?”
“Little,” responded another.
“What was Kara thinking?” The Liam lifted his eyes as if asking the skies themselves. “The Ring I understand, it rightly belongs to the child. But what reason would she have to pass the key to a babe?” The Liam shook his head. “The answers are in that vial.”
Vren nodded.
The Liam heaved a great sigh. “We could debate for hours and still see no clear path. So I say this. In truth the child may be safer where she is for a time.”
Vren glanced at Dust, who shook her head. “Master, Orval is trusted, but he is a bachelor who lives for his books and scrolls.”
The Liam chuckled. “Well, he’s in for a bit of a shock, but for now we will leave the babe with him and the wet nurse. Come to us, Vren. Bring Kara’s memories to us. Others will be sent to ward the babe.”
Vren bowed his head in obedience.
“Dust, you have our thanks for all you have done,” The Liam said. “You are not a member of Our Order. Where does your path now lead?”
Dust inclined her head and spoke firmly. “The vore search for those Chosen, born with the birthmark of the Dagger-Star. Neither babe bore the mark.” She paused. Vren’s heart sank, then rose again at her next words. “I will travel with Vren as long as our paths intertwine. My goal is Athelbryght, where I can inform the Packmoot.”
“My path takes me through there,” Vren said quickly. Too quickly, perhaps. The Liam’s look was sharp and knowing, but all he did was nod.
“Excellent,” the Liam said. “The marcusi also watch. If the birthmark is seen, we will report to you and yours. Our thanks, Vore Dust.”
The Liam raised a hand to end the senel, but Vren interrupted. “Where will you be, Master?” he asked. “Where will I find you?”
The Liam’s mouth quirked. “Where our ancient Order was founded. Where we have always been, and always will be. In the Wastes, within sight of the Heart that was shattered.”