Fire Hawk (10 page)

Tal took a deep breath, then whispered something to the raven Kane could not hear. The bird’s head bobbed, but she did not leave his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Kane said.

Tal’s head came up. Any trace of tension had vanished, replaced by his usual mocking grin. “The mighty Kane is sorry? That’s enough to worry a man, imagining what that would take.”

For once, Kane refused to let himself be diverted. He wasn’t certain why. It was not a warrior’s habit to make friends. The cost ran far too high. And there were few men he’d met he would care to call friend anyway. Especially the kind of friend privy to the sort of emotional strain Kane hated to even admit to.

But Tal was . . . different. He’d always been different. And although he didn’t want to admit this any more than the other, he couldn’t deny that Tal had a habit of turning up at the times when that strain he didn’t care to acknowledge was at its worst. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened the other night, wasn’t sure he wanted to know; he did know he owed Tal for it. And he’d never thought to have a chance to repay him. Other than the occasional flicker of darkness in his eyes, Tal had seemed unaffected by such things. Until now.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “for whatever you were thinking of just now.”

For a long, quiet moment Tal just looked at him. There was nothing of mockery in his face, nothing of that mysterious glint in his eyes, nothing of the mask in his expression. And in that moment, for the first time, Kane thought he was seeing the real man Tal was. Or had been, once.

“Who are you, Tal?” he asked.

“You know who I am. Better than anyone.”

Kane looked at him steadily. “Then who
were
you?”

“That,” Tal said, “no longer matters. That man doesn’t exist anymore. He hasn’t for a very long time.”

Kane went very still. After a moment, he said slowly, “That’s why you understand, isn’t it? You’ve . . . left yourself behind just as I have. Or have tried to.”

Tal’s dark brows rose. “You’ve come a long way.”

Kane grimaced. “Not far enough.”

“Tell me, were you this critical of the men you led, or only of yourself?”

“A leader is supposed to be harder on himself than anyone.”

“But you lead no one now, why continue?”

Kane lifted a brow. “If you think I judge myself too harshly, you are misguided, my friend.”

Tal shrugged. “ ’Twould not be the first time.”

Kane drew back a little, surprised. Tal usually accused him of doing just that, being too merciless with himself. He hadn’t realized until just now how much he’d come to count on Tal’s quiet assurances that he wasn’t the devil most believed him to be. That he wasn’t the devil he thought himself to be most of the time.

The answer came to him quickly; it was what he’d done to Jenna, no doubt, that had changed Tal’s mind. Just as he’d feared, their friendship could not withstand such a thing. Tal was clever, quick, strong, and possessed of those unique gifts that made Kane uneasy, but above all, he was a gentle man, and he would not care for the mistreatment of innocents.

“I warned you,” Kane said flatly, turning away, knowing that once more what he was had cost him something he valued.

“We have both paid a heavy price for what we once were, my friend. It makes for a bond not easily broken.”

Kane whirled back around at the unerring accuracy of Tal’s words and found himself facing the same smiling, faintly amused Tal he had always known.

“And you swear you are not a mind reader?”

“Is it so strange, that two men who have had such common things in their lives, should think in similar ways?”

He had no answer for that, so he stayed silent. The raven made a sharp noise, then left Tal’s shoulder to vanish into the night with a minimum of fuss, and Kane knew Tal was back to normal. And that he would soon disappear with little more fuss than the bird.

“I wish you luck in your current predicament, Kane, my friend. You will need it, I believe.”

Kane watched him go, and stood for a long time after, pondering the mystery of his friend, and the wonder that he still, apparently, was a friend.

And the fact that he had little doubt Tal’s last words were absolutely true.

IT WAS THE FIRST time she’d been out on the mountain alone, and Jenna was savoring it even as the apprehension played counterpoint to the thrill. She’d never hunted for food in her life; what if she failed? She’d only been shooting the small, lightweight crossbow Kane had helped her make for four days now, although the constant minor ache in her arms and shoulders made it seem much longer.

True, she had made progress; she had moved from stationary targets to ones Kane tossed rather quickly, and he himself had said she had a good eye, but firing at a living, moving animal was quite a different prospect. Not to mention her apprehension at killing another creature so . . . directly.

She smiled ruefully at the irony of worrying about slaying a rabbit when her heart was crying out for her to slaughter those who had slaughtered her family and friends. It still cried out, despite knowing that Kane was right, that they could have no hope of vengeance; saving what was left was the best they could hope for.

She shivered, but knew it had little to do with chill, or even her own bloody thoughts, and everything to do with Kane. Still he had not called upon her to honor their agreement, and the waiting was making her more nervous than she had ever been in her life. And she knew as well that a great deal of her uneasy state was because of the new tack Kane seemed to be taking; every night, as he had the day she’d climbed the cliff, he knelt behind her to ease the stiffness out of her weary muscles with his strong yet gentle hands.

And every night, she fell under the warm, languorous spell he seemed to weave over her, until she felt as good as boneless in his grasp.

Boneless, but not nerveless. In fact, when Kane touched her in that slow, stroking way, she discovered nerves she’d never known she had, nerves that first tingled, then sparked, then burned, filling her with sensations she’d never felt, never known it was possible to feel.

A shiver rippled through her as she remembered last night, when she’d felt a new kind of creeping warmth, and a tension utterly unlike that of her weary body, as he’d massaged her into that limp, slack state of relaxation, then slid his hands forward to gently cup her breasts. She’d been so softened by his touch it had taken her a moment to realize an entirely new kind of heat had begun to pulse beneath his hands, and before she realized it, a low moan had escaped her. In that same moment, before she had instinctively stiffened and pulled away, he had rubbed his fingertips gently over her nipples, sending little darts of fire shooting through her, making her suck in a shocked little breath.

By the time her body had gone rigid with that shock, he had released her.

“Are there no men in your clan,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, “that you remain untouched?”

Before she could gather her oddly scattered thoughts to answer that the problem was she herself, not the men of Hawk Glade, he had gone, off on another of his nighttime excursions. This morning he had not mentioned anything, merely sent her down the mountain with the small crossbow, saying they would eat the results of her hunt, or not at all. Jenna wished he would just take her and get it over with, before the anticipation drove her mad.

And found herself wondering if it would truly be so bad, as long as his touch remained as gentle as it had been.

A sudden commotion and the sound of wings beating the air stopped her in her tracks. Quickly, she notched an arrow, her eyes searching the trees to her right, from where the sound had come. A flock, at the least, she thought; from the noise—

And there they were, pheasant, several of them with their distinctive long tails and their odd, cough-like cries, the males bright against the backdrop of trees, the females a muted contrast. Jenna wondered what had flushed them from their hiding place, and breathed a small prayer of thanks as she drew back the bowstring, that it hadn’t been quail; she had little faith in her ability to bring down one of the smaller birds.

She never fired.

A shout, a man’s shout, from close by, startled her into nearly letting the arrow fly wildly.

What had flushed them from their hiding place?

Her own thoughts came back to her, along with Kane’s stern admonitions to always be aware of what was around her, and to never concentrate so much on one thing that she lost sight of all else.

She crouched down behind a large, low bush, her heart pounding; she had done exactly that, been concentrating so intently that she’d overlooked the possible danger even when it had crossed her mind. She wondered if perhaps Kane had followed her, keeping out of sight among the trees. She even began to hope it was him.

She heard another shout, of a man’s name, William, she thought. Then an answering bellow. Both voices were male, neither Kane’s. And then, in the first voice came a chilling command.

“Kill him!”

There was a moment of unearthly silence, then it was broken by the harsh cry of a raven. A cry that was almost human in its rage. A cry Jenna could almost swear was tinged with fear.

Chapter 9

JENNA RESISTED the urge to run; she could no longer afford the luxury of self-preservation, and she might as well accept the fact now. Should it be true that Kane had followed her, it could well be him in trouble just beyond those trees, as impossible as that seemed.

Keeping her small crossbow at the ready, she began to move toward the sounds, keeping low and moving with as little noise as she could manage, as Kane had taught her. She heard the raven again, closer now, and crouched even lower.

“Watch him! He’ll try some sorcerer’s trick!” The first man again, she thought.

“Then
you
kill him,” the second voice said, somewhat fearfully.

“What’s wrong with you?” the first man sneered. “Are you afraid of him? Look at him, he has only a dagger, and no armor at all!”

“If he’s a sorcerer, what need has he for armor?”

The image flashed through her mind, Kane holding a plump pheasant like those she had just seen.

. . .
courtesy of the local wizard.

The rest of their exchange echoed as clearly.

You have . . . a wizard?

No. Just a friend who is far too clever.

Could it be Kane’s friend in danger here? She crept forward a little more.

“If I am truly a sorcerer, all the armor you wear will not help you.”

Jenna stopped suddenly, hunkering down behind the branches of a spreading plant, wary of what looked like thistles. That voice, she thought. It sounded familiar. Not just the voice itself, but that faintly amused tone, that of a man entertained by something only he could see. She dared a prickly seed head and peeked through the bushes.

Two men, big, bulky, draped in some kind of metal fabric that appeared dull with age and wear, and armed with rather unclean swords they had drawn and held at the ready, had a third man backed up against a tree.

“And if I am not,” the trapped man said easily, “you have no reason to kill me.”

He did not look, Jenna thought, like a man whose life was in danger. Smaller than his hulking adversaries, he nevertheless looked wiry and strong in simple leather tunic and leggings much like those Kane wore, and she thought his size might prove to be deceptive. He leaned against the tree as if casually passing the time, one booted foot drawn up and resting flat against the trunk. He wore no armor, and no weapon that she could see except for a small dagger with a carved hilt at his narrow waist. His hair, brushing his shoulders, was dark, shot with silver at the temples. And his mouth was curved upward at the corners in the barest hint of a smile.

“Who but a wizard would have such a creature at his beck and call?”

The second man she’d heard speak gestured with his blade, and only then did Jenna see the black bird perched on a branch just above the third man’s shoulders.

“And the damned thing clawed at my eyes!” exclaimed the first man.

“Aye, I saw it,” the other agreed. “He is evil, in league with the devil.”

“I swear he set that bird on me!”

“She does as she chooses,” the man leaning against the tree said.

What
was
it about his voice? Jenna crept forward to get a better view. In the moment she did the man against the tree went very still. Slowly, as if to avoid drawing the armed men’s attention, he glanced her way. And stared as if he could see right through to her hiding place, as if he knew exactly where she was.

Jenna’s breath caught. Those eyes. She knew those eyes, knew that fierce intensity. But pinned by it, she could not think, could not remember.

He looked away at last, and she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. She felt a little dizzy; she didn’t know this man; she knew she did not, but for a moment . . .

“ ’Tis time for this to be done,” he said in a tone that belied his position against the two bigger, armed and armored men.

“You have the right of that. The devil’s minions must be destroyed,” the first man, the bigger of the two snarled. He lifted his sword. “William!”

The other man closed in, his sword held at a lower level. Even she could see their plan, and guessed they had worked it together before; the smaller of the two in close to keep their victim from moving, possibly reaching for the one weapon he had, the larger wielding his vicious blade in an arcing blow that would cleave the man in two.

She didn’t hesitate. She hated bullies and doubted Kane had so many friends he could spare this one. She stood, forgoing the protection of her hidden position. She lifted her small weapon and took careful aim.

In the instant she let the short arrow fly, the scene erupted into chaos. The black bird gave a murderous cry and dived at the smaller man. He careened back. The bigger man, whose sword had begun to descend, shouted as if in pain, whirling in her direction. The bird’s flitting, clawing, noisy attack on his companion drew her attention, and as the man reeled toward her she quickly notched another arrow.

She didn’t need it. Something very odd happened. There was a sound, a sharp, piercing whistle. The raven answered, withdrawing from the fray to circle above with a flap of glistening black wings. Both of the armed men were staring at the bird as if they were seeing something far more terrifying than a relatively small but admittedly defiant and wrathful raven.

Only then did she see her arrow had struck the bigger man in the forearm, the arm that wielded his heavy sword.

“Go. Now.”

It was their intended victim, the man she had feared to see bleeding his life’s blood into the ground, giving an order as if he were holding the swords, as if he wore the armor. It was a voice that held the ring of a steel stronger than that of their blades, and both men seemed to know it. Although he still stood there, armed with only a small dagger he had never drawn, the men went pale.

And ran. As if the hounds of Hades were at their heels.

There was another whistle, an odd up-and-down tremolo; she saw him do it this time. The raven remained silent but flew off in the direction the fleeing men had taken.

Then he turned to look at her.

Slowly, as he walked toward her, his eyes went over her with an interest and intensity that was obvious. Yet she felt nothing of male heat in it, only curiosity, the curiosity of a man seeing something long heard of but only now seen up close. When he stopped in front of her, his gaze lingered for an instant on her hair, her eyes, and at last on the small crossbow she carried.

“ ’Tis a small weapon, to take on two such as they,” he said mildly.

“I could say the same,” she said, nodding toward the dagger. “Although your friend is a formidable opponent.”

“My friend?” He looked puzzled for a moment. “Kane is with you, then?” He glanced about as if he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the big warrior.

Her mouth quirked. “I meant the feathered one.”

His gaze shot back to her face. And then, suddenly, he grinned. It was a sparkling, infectious expression, and she found herself smiling back. He was a very comely man, and he moved with a grace she’d rarely seen. Was it something about these mountains that bred exceptionally fine-looking men? she wondered. Those two who had fled notwithstanding, of course.

“Ah,” he said. “Maud. She is a valiant creature, is she not? And loyal. As are you, Jenna of the clan Hawk.”

The fact that he knew who she was confirmed her guess that this was Kane’s friend. She shrugged.

“I am not. I merely have had quite enough of late of big, blustering men who trample those weaker or smaller or less well armed.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Still, they could have turned on you, hurt, or even killed you. ’Twas courageous of you to risk yourself so. And for a stranger. I thank you for your fine shooting.”

She hadn’t thought it courageous, she’d only done it. Without thinking. “No thanks are necessary.” Her mouth quirked. “Besides, I was aiming for his knee, in hopes of making him fall.”

He chuckled, an odd light coming into his eyes. Those eyes that seemed so familiar to her. “Whatever your aim, you achieved the goal. And I do thank you.”

“You are Kane’s friend, are you not?” she asked.

“Who has lost his manners,” he said suddenly. “My apologies.”

With a sweeping, grand gesture he bowed at the waist. “I am Talysn ap Bendigeidfran, at your service.”

Jenna blinked. “Tal—uh . . .” she began, her brows furrowed.

“Talysn ap Bendigeidfran,” he repeated, grinning now.

She shook her head. “Are you . . . named for someone?”

“The last part is for my feathered friend, as you put it. It means blessed raven. The first, for some
thing,
more accurately. But it doesn’t exist yet, so there’s no need for you to learn it.”

“Oh.” She was feeling a bit lost; he wasn’t making much sense.

“Just do as Kane does,” he suggested. “Call me Tal.”

His humor was irresistible, and she smiled at him. He
was
charming, if a little nonsensical. “All right. Tal.”

“And I do thank you. ’Tis not often I find someone willing to take such a chance for someone they do not know.”

As the memory of what had happened after she’d fired came back to her, she eyed him a little warily. “I’m not at all certain you needed my help. Or anyone’s.”

“That,” he said, waving a hand in negation, “doesn’t matter. What does is that you were willing to risk your life to give it. I shall have to think of a proper way to repay you.”

“That is not necessary—”

“But it is,” he insisted. “To me. ’Tis worth more than you know to an old man like me to find one of such bravery and generous spirit.”

“Old?” Jenna stared at him; he was hardly that, despite the gray that graced his temples.

Tal blinked, looking for the moment like nothing more than a small, muddy boy caught by his mother.

“Do not mind that,” he said, rather hastily. “ ’Tis you I’m speaking of. A rarity such as you, in this world, should be treasured, fostered. This kind of courage should be honored and revered, acknowledged in some appropriate manner.”

He looked thoughtful, while Jenna blushed at his flowery praise. The man had a tongue sweet enough to match his looks, she thought. “Please, you must stop.”

“Modesty as well,” he said. “It suits you. There will come a time when such a mixture will be rare indeed. And the world will be a sadder, sorrier place because of it. ’Twould be a pity if this particular pedigree for courage were to die out . . .”

He looked suddenly thoughtful, and Jenna wondered if Kane’s friend was . . . quite right in the head.

He laughed. Loud and joyously, like a man who has just made a wondrous discovery.

“That is it!” he exclaimed.

Jenna resisted the urge to back up a step; she knew somehow this man was no danger to her, yet he was making her exceedingly nervous.

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“The perfect recompense for your bravery in coming to my aid.”

“I have told you, I don’t wish—”

“Of course. If you sought it, I would not give it.”

“Give . . . what?”

“A gift that will extend down into time eternal.”

Jenna drew back slightly. “Are you sure you were not injured?”

He laughed again. “I’m worrying you, aren’t I? I am sorry, Jenna. But you will see that you need not be concerned. It is a most befitting gift, I think.”

She wondered if there was any point in repeating her assurances that she neither wanted nor expected anything from him. Before she could decide, he startled her with a quiet question.

“What is most important to you, Jenna of the clan Hawk?”

She did not have to think to answer that. “My people. They are dying, being slaughtered. That is why I am here, with Kane.”

“And would it ease your pain to know that they will never die? That no matter what happens now, or in the future, there will
always
be a descendent of the Hawks walking this earth?”

“I . . . of course it would. But no one can promise that.” The ever-present ache settled onto her heart anew. “No one can even promise they will be alive when I get back.”

“That is true,” Tal said softly. “But you, Jenna, your line, your blood . . . that I can promise.”

She lifted her gaze to his eyes. Something glinted in the depths, something golden and glowing and infinitely mysterious. Changeable eyes, she thought vaguely, caught and held by them as surely as if she’d been gripped by one of Latham’s snares. And in that moment, if he told her man could fly, she would believe him.

“I would trade it,” she said in hushed tones, “for the lives of my people.”

“I know that you would.” His voice was so incredibly gentle her heart ached. “But I cannot. I haven’t the power to save so many. But this one thing I can give you, Jenna. Your line will continue. You will be the beginning, and your heart, your soul, your courage, your blood will continue in an unbroken line, forever. Should fate step in and reduce your line to but one, it shall still go on. I promise you this.”

Jenna caught her breath, startled despite the hypnotic effect of his eyes and voice. “You know? That I am . . . the last?”

“I know.”

“How can you promise such a thing?”

“That does not matter. Just believe that I can.”

Perhaps he
was
a wizard, she thought, her brain feeling oddly foggy. Or perhaps just a lunatic Kane had befriended.

“I . . . how?”

“You don’t understand, yet.” His dark brows furrowed. “Nor will those who come after you. So there must be a way,” he said, as if musing aloud, “for those who are the last of the line to know, to understand what they must do to assure it continues. Something to guide them along the right path . . .”