Blood Witch (19 page)

"Do you want those
peaches or not?" Alaysha squeezed her knees against his belly.

He leaned harder
this time, so suddenly Alaysha thought she'd lose her hold on the
sheet. Too quickly, she realized the crone had come loose of the
dirt and Barruch had begun to run. She fell with a thud to the
ground, her breath stuck somewhere between her rib cage and her
heart. She gasped painfully, hoping to get it moving again. Dimly,
she was aware that her head hurt too, but that was second to
getting her breath.

With effort, she
tried to roll onto her back to make room for the breath she
desperately tried to bring into her lungs. A sharp pain shot to her
neck. So. She'd done something nasty to her shoulder too.
Perfect.

She thought she
might as well rest. It'd been a long morning in the sun. The heat
was aggressively persistent and her mount had abandoned her in
favor of a grove of fruit, taking her waterskin with him. Sure. She
could use a bit of a rest.

Whether she wanted
to or not, her eyes kept closing of their own accord. She'd even
seen bright lights when she'd fallen, she realized that now. Must
have hit her head.

The fact that she
saw bare feet just in front of her with hennaed toes and insteps,
with nails dipped in ochre, confirmed it for her.

Chapter 17

She must have hit
her head harder than she thought; she came to went out so often,
and saw such strange things she doubted whether she was truly
awake.

She thought she
saw the pile of earth over the crones tremble and shake loose of
itself like a hound shaking itself free of water. Then she thought
she saw the earth open up bit by bit beneath the elder women and
close over them neatly. The rest could have been clouds or sun or
rain for as much as she knew.

The feet she
didn't see again nor did she get to see their owner's face. No
matter. She ended up beneath a small tent erected from the linen
sheet tied earlier to the crone's leg. It afforded enough shade
that she imagined she felt cool, cool enough to feel as though she
would be just fine if only the night would come. She couldn't
remember erecting the tent.

Eventually, the
sun blinked long enough that the moon saw its chance to shine.
Alaysha was astounded to hear an owl hoot and the tentative
chirpings of mice.

She eased up on
her elbows. Dizziness peered at her from the corner of her eye.

"Oh no, you
don't," she told the vertigo. "I've been lying here all day." She
took the cloth from her forehead, damp and cool, and wondered when
she thought to put one there. It was then that she realized the
true nature of what was wrong. She had Sun Sickness. That happened
to warriors who forgot to water themselves frequently or who worked
too hard without eating. Made worse if the sun was strong like it
had been, made worse because there was no shade in the desiccated
plain.

She had done all
those things plus took a bad spill. Gone out of her mind apparently
for a short spell. Thank the deities her warrior instincts took
over and she'd done all the things necessary to get through the day
and into the coolness of the evening.

She closed her
eyes and breathed deeply. She could whistle for Barruch, but he'd
be back no doubt when he'd forgiven her the slight to his warhorse
ego.

She heard him,
actually, just off to her right, munching on something that
crackled much like a roaring fire.

Was it a fire?

She tried to twist
sideways and saw with some elation that a happy flame danced a
short way off. The scent of roasting meat and charred flatbread met
her, and she wondered how she had missed it before. Yenic, it must
be.

Perhaps she was
still asleep.

She peered as best
she could in the darkness, trying to seek out a form that would
undoubtedly be hunched next to the fire, waiting for her to
wake.

"Yenic?" She
said.

"Not Yenic."

The voice, female
with the rasp of a snake's rattle came from her other side.

"Aislin." Alaysha
scrabbled to rise, not pleased about appearing weak in front of
Yenic's mother – a woman who could set her to cinder if she wanted,
if she ached for the daughter buried beneath one of the Cairns just
yonder.

A soft chuckle met
her movements.

"Take your time,
Alaysha."

Alaysha gripped
the damp cloth that had been lying on her forehead. "Thank you,"
she said holding it out.

Aislin looked at
it, but shook her head. "You might need it. Are you hungry?"

Alaysha found
herself nodding eagerly, the taste of the meat already on her
palate. "Yenic told you I was here."

Aislin swept her
arm in the direction of the blaze as she walked toward the fire.
The flames beneath a spitted hare fell flat while the rest of the
fire blazed on. She reached for the handle of the spit and pulled
it from the fire, laying the meat on a flat rock. As soon as the
spit was removed, the flames leapt back into place.

"That's
wonderful," Alaysha said and the woman's grin came easily.

"You don't have
such control?"

Alaysha shook her
head, not trusting her mouth to form words over the flood of
hunger.

"No matter."

The way Aislin
said it sounded to Alaysha as though it almost carried a hint of
relief. The sun sickness again, she supposed. She watched the woman
tear a leg from the hare and wrap it in cloth, then she laid it on
the ground for Alaysha to retrieve. She could swear as the cloth
met earth that a spark shot from Aislin's fingers.

The meat had just
enough smoke within to make it succulent. The juices, hot and oily,
ran down her chin. Aislin placed a few strips delicately into the
middle of a flat of bread she'd baked on a stone, then wrapped the
ends in and nibbled at it.

Alaysha felt very
much like a savage, and indeed the tender swelling of her head and
the remains of sun sickness left her staring, docile and dumb,
across the flames and into the depths of space beyond. She could
swear she saw the bright gaze of an animal out there. Or was it a
pair of fireflies? It was too hard to tell in the dark.

She chewed
sombrely, lost in her thoughts, and in the mesmerizing dance of
flames, with the animal's gaze just beyond, she thought she could
find peace. She tasted strange spices in the meat, spices that
seemed more to do with rituals than cooking, spices her nohma had
mixed for her and spread across her firepit every new moonphase. A
moon very much like this one, torn into the blanket of night like a
fingernail. And now she thought it, she smelled other things
too.

Things that took
her into the grip of memory and made her walk there, choosing paths
from the maze of images as though she were selecting choice nuts
from a tree. Each path, though the images were different, seemed to
lead to the same place, and that place was sitting right next to
the fire with Aislin next to her, those eyes blinking at her from
across the flames, her nohma's voice in her ear whispering of a
place called Etlantium.

She could have
lulled herself to sleep as she sat there, wrapped in the miasma of
smells and memories, but Aislin prodded her, commanding
attention.

"The fire has
magic, does it not?"

"Yes."

"What do you see
in the flames, Alaysha?"

"My nohma's
fire."

"Nothing
else?"

"Myself."

"As you are
now?"

"As I was."

"And how were you,
Alaysha?" Aislin's voice held a tension that reminded Alaysha of a
panther set to strike. She knew she had to respond, she couldn't
help but respond, but she found herself struggling for the
words.

They were in there
somewhere that could explain what she saw, but she had to work to
find them. She could see her nohma's fire pit so clearly, hear her
voice telling her of Etlantium, weaving stories of old wars and
heroes. Fairytales to set a young girl's fancies ablaze with
excitement and wash them down with the sobering taste of heroines
killed and lovers lost. How to distill that? How to distill all
those images that came before it, of her wearing skin of a
different shade, of hearing her name pronounced with different
letters. How to capture it. She just didn't know how.

"Etlantium," she
said and felt Aislin move closer. She could smell myrrh on Aislin's
skin and Alaysha's tattaus chin tingled as though they had been
touched. Another scent came too, one that began to overtake that of
myrrh, and yes, frankincense now she thought about it, brimstone.
She smelled brimstone and the eyes from across the fire blazed
brighter as she understood what the smell was. She was about to
reach out to those eyes, one eye really, floating there in the
darkness beyond the blaze, but a high-pitched whinny came from
somewhere to her side and she realized Barruch finally decided to
seek her out.

She took a deep,
cleansing breath and eased herself to her feet. Her side still
ached where she'd fallen, and she was most assuredly still dizzy,
but the food made her feel better.

She turned to
Aislin, feeling oddly refreshed.

"I don't think
I've tasted better fire roasted hare."

Aislin's face
looked guarded in the firelight, but then she smiled and the
movement seemed to adjust the shadows.

"Yenic always
tells me the same."

"He didn't come
with you." Alaysha couldn't help the disappointment in her
voice.

"I only came to
give you a message."

"What is it?"

"Don't come to
Sarum until you can bring the rain with you."

Alaysha felt her
brow furrow in confusion. "Come?"

Aislin moved
closer to the fire, ignoring Alaysha's question. Beyond, the eyes
still glowed, and Alaysha could swear they held Aislin mesmerized
until she spoke again in a foreign tongue and the blinking of the
gaze past the fire went dark. The brooding tension of the place
lifted but Alaysha felt no less anxious.

"Don't return."
Aislin could have been chastising an errant child.

"I won't."

Aislin folded her
arms across her chest and in the closeness of the flame she almost
seemed hollow and faded. "Not until you can bring the water rather
than take it."

Taking was easy.
Alaysha had never thought about bringing it; her father had
repeatedly said she could, but she always thought the power did
what it willed once it had left her.

Recalling Yuri
brought a sour taste to Alaysha's mouth. Would that she could
control the power long enough to bring him the death he deserved.
She couldn't take the water from him, but she could drown him with
it if she brought enough. For the things he'd done, for the things
he'd made her do, for what he owned because of her. She felt the
hatred burning inside.

"I will bring the
rain," she said and Aislin moved closer still to the fire, stepping
close enough that Alaysha thought to cry out in warning, but then
the woman became flame and then smoke, and Alaysha's head hurt so
much she had to hold onto it.

She reached down
for the damp cloth where she'd dropped it. It had cooled
considerably and felt lovely against her skin. She pressed it
against her eyes, thinking how decadent it felt to close them. How
decadent it would feel to lie beneath the linen tent and sleep.

The fire had died
down anyway; it barely looked as though it had blazed at all.

With heavy feet,
she trudged to where she knew the bed waited in the dark. She felt
her leg brush against it and climbed beneath, stretching out on the
side that wasn't so sore. She took one last look into the shadows
where the animal sat crouched in the darkness and decided if it had
been a beast of prey, it would have struck by now.

She listened for
Barruch, who would sound the alarm of any dangerous scent. She
heard him letting go wind and smiled to herself.

She'd let herself
sleep and come morning, she'd work to bring the rain. Yes. And then
she would head back to Sarum and claim the teaching the fire witch
offered. She had offered it, had she not? Alaysha couldn't
remember, but she had the distinct impression that if she could
bring rain rather than take it, that Aislin would know she was
ready.

Barruch's
breathing fell to a steady rhythm that acted as a lullaby; Alaysha
could no more keep her breath from matching hers than she could
keep her heart from beating. She inhaled, content, and kept her
gaze, mesmerized, at the eyes of the animal that blinked at her
from across the darkness.

Strange how it
sounded as though it was weeping.

Chapter 18

A spray of water woke her and Alaysha opened her eyes
to a wide, wet black nose in her face. Barruch's chin whiskers
tickled her throat, and his eyes blinked impatiently at her.

He blew another
spray of spittle at her face.

"There are better
ways to wake a girl," she complained, but she rolled to her good
side and made the attempt to get her feet. She wavered for a spell
before she felt solid enough to take a few steps.

The remains of a
fire sat smoldering to her right. So. Aislin had been there.
Alaysha was afraid the whole experience had been the result of too
much sun and a good wallop on a soft skull.

Bring the rain,
Aislin had said. It seemed an insurmountable task, when it was too
opposite the things she'd always done so naturally, the things
she'd done to kill.

She surveyed the
area, walking barefoot across the packed earth, taking note were
small clumps of grass dared take root. A cactus that had been once
as large as a man had fallen over, but it sprouted a thin arm from
the side that faced the sun. It seemed some life had managed to
cling to existence when the flood came. The land still looked
ruined, but at least it was coming back. Given time, perhaps three
or four seasons, there might be enough life to support a thin tree,
perhaps a bird or two, but she doubted fruit bearing foliage would
ever return. The soil was simply too parched.