Part 63 (2/2)

Please, Hua, if you just try- <nay! i=”” won't=”” do=”” it.=”” you=”” can't=”” make=”” me.=”” go=”” away,=”” i=”” hate=”” you,=”” you're=”” a=”” bad=”” man,=”” just=”” like=”” the=”” ones=”” .=”” .=”” .=””> Hua shrieked as the memories burst free, inundating Keirith with the terror of that morning.

The beast was behind him, ready to snap him up with its huge, awful fangs. He had to look back. He had to see how close it was. But when he did, there was no beast, only men with long daggers and fis.h.i.+ng nets and spears and clubs.

I'm holding you. I'll keep you safe. They won't hurt you.

<not me!=””> Mam. Running. Her hair streaming behind her. Sunbright, Fa called it. Mam's sunbright hair tangled across her face when she looked back. They were chasing her. They were going to catch her. He screamed, loud as he could, but Mam couldn't hear him. He had to help her. He had to chase away the bad men. So he yanked his hands away from Auntie Sariem and Grandmam and ran, fast as a rabbit.

Fa was running, too, running toward the men chasing Mam. He would kill the bad men and make the others go away and never come back. But Fa had to go faster, fast as a rabbit, else he'd never get there in time.

Fa was walking sideways, like he did after the Midsummer feast and didn't Mam shout at him that night when she took away the jug? But Fa wasn't laughing now. He just fell to his knees and onto his face with the . . .

<nay!> ... arrow sticking out of him. Get up, Fa, please get up! But he just lay there. Grandmam and Auntie Sariem were pulling him away, but not before he saw Mam pick up the spear. Not before he saw her charging toward the bad men. Not before he saw her sunbright hair whipping around her neck and her legs bending and her body falling, just like Fa, but oh G.o.ds, oh G.o.ds, oh G.o.ds . . .

The scream ripped through Keirith, bringing with it the image of the severed head, rolling over and over on the ground, sunbright hair trailing behind it.

Hua screamed again and all Keirith could do was hold his fragile spirit, drawing on his strength and Natha's to absorb the awful images. He took them all in-the arrow in his father's back, the b.l.o.o.d.y stump of his mother's neck-and with them, the shock and the horror and the agony of loss that Hua had not allowed himself to feel before. Felt his spirit tremble with the effort to hold them, heard his scream mingling with Hua's, and thought he could never be strong enough to hold this much pain, his spirit would shatter along with Hua's, both of them lost, oh G.o.ds, I'm sorry.

Natha coiled around them, holding them safe. He flowed through their spirits, carrying memories to comfort them-a father's strong arms hugging them, a mother's hand reaching out to steady them as they took their first awkward steps.

Sariem's laugh banished the screams. Faelia rolled her eyes and the raiders fled. Callie's giggle sent a shaft of sunlight blazing through the shadowy forest. Grandfa bellowed and uprooted the thorn bushes and vines obscuring the path. And there was Grandmam, squatting down at the edge of the trees-she shouldn't be doing that, not with her knees so bad with the joint-ill. Grandmam's face, creased in a great smile, Grandmam's arms, flung wide to welcome him home.

Natha released them, dissipating like mist before the sun. Keirith touched Hua's spirit in farewell and gently withdrew. He found himself lying on the pallet, his arms flung around Hua's shoulders. As he eased free, he looked at the circle of anxious faces hovering above him.

Jirra's eyes went wide with shock. Her hand flew to her mouth. Keirith turned to find Hua blinking uncertainly. His mouth moved, but the words were too soft to hear. With a hoa.r.s.e cry, Jirra pulled her grandson into her arms, laughing and weeping and rocking him just like she used to when he was little.

Keirith accepted Jirra's tearful thanks, Sariem's kiss, and Illait's bruising hug. He lingered beside Hua a moment to whisper, ”There's no shame in crying when you're sad. Or in grieving for your mam and fa.”

Tears welled up in Hua's eyes and oozed down the wasted cheeks. Keirith gently wiped them away. ”You've got your grandmam and your grandfa and your aunt to help you.”

Hua's lips moved. Keirith had to put his ear to the boy's mouth to catch the words.

”Your grandfa's going to move the village to a new place-a secret place that the bad men won't find. And if they come in your dreams, remember my friend Natha. Pretend that he's coiled around you again, keeping you safe, even while you're sleeping. Someday, you'll have your own vision mate to protect you. Maybe you'll find an adder, too. Or an eagle.”

He stumbled on his way out of the hut and his father's hand came up to steady him. The village was asleep, the long twilight beginning to fade into darkness. Together, they walked down to the sea.

”Are you all right?”

”Aye. Just . . . very tired.”

”And Hua?”

”He'll need time to heal, but he's strong. Else he couldn't have held back the memories so long.”

”You're strong, too. Else you couldn't have reached him. You're a healer. Like your mam.”

Keirith shook his head.

”It's true. Only you heal spirits, not bodies. That's your gift. And you must use it.”

It was as impossible as dreaming that the council of elders would welcome him back into the tribe. Yet Keirith wanted to believe it could happen, that he could use his power for good as he had tonight.

”When I came back from the First Forest, when I thought I'd never hunt again . . .” His father took a deep breath. ”What I was really afraid of was that I couldn't be the best. Not the best in the tribe but as good as I once was. So I became a Memory-Keeper.”

The disgust in his father's voice made Keirith wince. ”Did you hate it that much?”

”Nay. But the forest always called me. For fifteen years, I tried to ignore it. I don't want you to make the same mistake. I'm a hunter, Keirith. And you're a shaman. Maybe not the same kind of shaman as Gortin or Struath, but that's your life-path. And no matter what anyone says, you must follow it.”

That was why his father had wanted him to help Hua-not only to reclaim the boy, but to reclaim himself.

Although exhaustion shadowed his father's eyes, there was no mistaking the eagerness on his face as his gaze swept over the village to linger on the trees beyond. The G.o.ds only knew how long it would take him to learn to draw a bow with those hands. He might never again bring down a deer with one shot to the heart. But his instincts were still keen and his desire keener. After so many years, his father had found his path again.

But can I really find a place with my tribe?

The resurgence of hope left him breathless-and terrified. It was easier when he had given up. His father was right. Living was hard. Even harder than he had imagined.

His father's hand came down on his shoulder. Keirith looked up into that calm, stubborn face and found the courage to smile back.

Chapter 51.

GRIANE DUCKED OUT of the birthing hut and found herself surrounded by people. Elathar's sons had abandoned their nets to get a look at the new member of their family. She carried the squalling infant up the hill, her progress slowed as more of her kinfolk joined the throng. The whole tribe had awaited this birth with special eagerness; it was the first since the raid.

The old women sc.r.a.ping hides insisted she stop and show them the babe. They still sat outside Jurl's empty hut; until his bones were safely interred in the tribal cairn, the council of elders would not risk his spirit's displeasure by bestowing his home on another family. Some still shook their heads over his mysterious death, but most accepted that his quick temper had brought on the fit that killed him.

She smiled automatically as the old women p.r.o.nounced the child a fine boy and left them discussing the labor pains and birthing ordeals they had endured. Nemek had obviously heard the shouts of congratulations; he paced impatiently outside the hut. Only Nionik's hand on his arm kept him from sprinting toward her as she approached.

She smiled at Mirili and Nionik and held the babe out to Nemek. ”I bring you Catha's son.”

”A son? I have a son?” With a dazed expression, he looked from the infant in her arms to his father. ”I have a son.”

”Not until you accept him from Mother Griane,” Nionik reminded him with a smile.

Nemek extended shaking hands, balancing the child on his palms with such trepidation that Griane and Mirili both reached out to settle the poor mite securely in the crook of his arm.

”He's so small.” He peered more closely at the wriggling bundle. ”Is he supposed to be that red?”

”Your face was redder,” Nionik said. ”And wrinkled as a withered apple.”

”He was not,” Mirili protested. ”He was beautiful. As beautiful as my grandson.”

Nemek shot his mother a grateful glance. He bent his head over his son, crooning sweet nonsense. Suddenly, his head jerked up. ”Catha. How is-”

”She's fine. And we counted four pops when we threw the afterbirth in the fire, so it seems I'll be presenting you with four more babes.”

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