Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (36 page)

Most of the more valuable herbs the clan now possessed were used to help teach the four new apprentices how to identify all the different plants they would need to recognise as seers. Netya recalled her own exhausting hours of memorising different types of leaves, roots, bulbs, petals, and stalks under Adel's harsh tutelage, and she did not envy the other apprentices' nightly sessions with their mentors outside the den mother's cave.

Her respite from training was not to last long, however. Though she was considerably more versed than the other young girls, Adel was quick to remind her that she still had much to learn if she was to become a fully fledged seer. Most of Netya's training since they left Khelt's pack had been derived from watching and being mindful of the other women, but the time had come for her to begin learning in earnest once more.

The evenings spent in Adel's cave were just as exhausting as she remembered, keeping her up long into the night and leaving her too exhausted to do anything but pass out next to Caspian when she finally returned to their small abode. She learned more of communing with the spirits and refining her knowledge of plants, but most of her instruction focused on treating wounds and learning how to mix herbs into powerful remedies. The skills that would be most useful if Miral discovered their den, Netya reflected.

Adel was as strict a teacher as always, demanding tireless attention to detail and studious focus on the tasks at hand, but she was not without kindness this time. One morning when the fumes of the spirit herbs they were burning made Netya intensely sick, the den mother settled her apprentice's head in her lap with a bowl to vomit into, stroking her hair soothingly as she told a tale of a courageous fish spirit who made the rivers rise to carry away a wicked shaman who was turning the waters of the land to ice. For a time it almost felt as though she was back at the house she had grown up in, being soothed to sleep by the familiar touch of a parent. She sensed a deep kindness in her mentor during those moments. A longing to love, and be loved in return. But she could not reach out to Adel without the woman becoming cold and withdrawn again. The softest touch or the beginnings of an embrace turned her skin to stone, and her shell closed to seal away the kindly woman behind a sheen of ice. So Netya resigned herself to enjoy their moments of intimacy together without ever pushing for more. Perhaps it was enough that Adel was at least allowing the softer side of herself to the surface. Maybe women like her could never truly allow their hearts to guide them.

When she was working outside or enjoying one of her brief moments of rest, Netya often found herself watching Caspian as he instructed the other men, training them to use their minds just as much as their bodies. It was difficult for the newcomers to adapt after having relied on themselves for so long, and many a disagreement broke out, often over even the mildest of things. The males were itching for conflict, and as Netya found herself tending yet another gash on the brow of a man whose hunting partner had disagreed with him on how best to use a skinning knife, she began to realise why no other packs had been willing to take the group in. But for better or worse, they were all part of the same clan now. To Caspian's credit he never allowed himself to be pulled into the disputes of any of his charges, maintaining the air of detachment that set him apart and reinforced his position as alpha in their eyes.

"Why do you let them fight?" Netya asked him one morning as she broke her fast with strips of dried venison and a cup of medicinal tea sweetened with stewed berries. She was feeling out of sorts that day, tense and uncomfortable within her own clothing, and the whiff of spirit herbs creeping over from someone else's fire was already making her mildly nauseous. The dream of the blue world had visited her again before she woke, and it was likely to blame for her unsettled mood.

"I'd rather have them fight where I can keep an eye on them," Caspian explained. "I still worry what will happen if they stumble across one of Miral's scouts out there. A dead wolf within our territory will only make things worse for us."

"Khelt would have been more assertive with them. They might not dare step out of line if they fear being punished for it."

"You recall how well that ended with Vaya?" He gave her a wry smile. "Khelt's way was not wrong, but I think it would do us more harm than good right now. What we need from Kin and his brothers is loyalty, not fear. Expecting them to change too much too quickly will only drive them away."

"I suppose you are right, as usual," she sighed, setting down her wooden cup and rising to her feet with a groan. "I wish I could rest today. I have had enough of herbs and medicine."

"Tell Adel I would like to speak with her about the new men later. It has been some time since we talked. Perhaps she will let you finish your work early."

"I doubt it," Netya said, but she smiled as Caspian brought her hand in for a kiss. "I will ask, though."

The tea helped a little, but the morning's discomfort lingered after she made her way up the side of the valley to Adel's cave. The smell of mixed herbs inside felt cloying that day.

"Take this," the den mother said as Netya approached, spitting a mouthful of pulpy yellow plant matter into her hand and passing it to her apprentice. "Pick out the husks and then put the rest in the pot to boil. You can start chewing some more while you do it." She slid over a strip of rabbit hide lined with hard black pods. "Do not swallow any, and wash your mouth with hot water afterwards. We will be brewing a warriors' draught this morning."

Netya nodded and sat down to do as she had been told, grimacing at the prospect of chewing up a mouthful of their ingredients. The plants they used rarely tasted pleasant, and the ones she was instructed not to swallow had a habit of burning her mouth or leaving it numb. But the black pods contained a surprisingly mild flavour once her teeth split them open to release their yellow contents, and rather than exacerbating her nausea they instead helped to soothe it.

"What will this draught do for our warriors?" She asked once her mouth was no longer full.

"Much the same as any other. Make them bold, sharpen their focus, give them the strength to fight on despite pain. These seeds are tough, but when boiled they release a poison that can help imbue warriors with such strength in small amounts."

"Do the Moon People often fight with the aid of these blessings? The men of my village never did."

"Sometimes," Adel replied. "The magic we make often comes with a price, as you may see in your years to come. Every time we touch the spirit world, it leaves a part of itself within us. It happens to seers most often, but also to those who partake of our strongest remedies. You remember the elders in Khelt's clan who spent all day in the grip of the spirit world?"

Netya nodded.

"Those are the ones who have spent so long wrapped in visions that they lose the ability to distinguish between one world and the next. They ramble and rave, and any wisdom they might possess becomes confused and meaningless as their minds drift away."

"And this happens to the warriors who use these spirit draughts too?"

"Yes, quickly and without remorse. That is why most packs only resort to them in desperate times. When I was a girl my father's warriors drank such potions often. They had no other way to muster the courage and strength they needed after so much bloodshed and so many defeats. They fought like demons, so I was told." Adel gave the simmering pot a contemplative look. "And after a time, the demons refused to leave their bodies. The bloodlust took such a hold of those men that they stopped caring who was friend and who was foe, tearing apart anyone who stood before them. Many of my father's warriors had to die by his own hand once they were too far gone."

"Then our warriors should not use this kind of magic," Netya said.

"Indeed, but we may be faced with no other choice. Used sparingly and in small amounts it is unlikely to do much harm, but it is always wise to be cautious. The same goes for all spirit magic. The stronger its effect, the more dangerous it often is."

"Is that why you allow the others to burn the valley weeds so freely?"

Adel nodded. "The effect is weak. I doubt it will do much harm."

"I do not like the way it smells." Netya wrinkled her nose. "And it makes me dream more than usual."

"Do your dreams still trouble you?"

"Not often, though the vision of the water still returns some nights."

Adel grunted, tossing another handful of yellow pulp into the pot. "The spirits saw your death that night in the cave. Their echo continues to warn you of it, even though the danger is passed. Many dreams are meaningless, but those that return are often the ones that hold some important message."

Netya hesitated for a moment, then looked up from her handful of husks. "Another dream has visited me in its place."

Adel paused and looked over at her. "It has?"

"It comes every few nights. In it my spirit guide leads me across a great field covered with blue moonlight. Then I come to the place of the gathering, where every clan in the world looks up to a woman standing upon an outcrop at its centre."

"Who is this woman?"

Netya shrugged. "I do not know. It seems like she is me at first, but then the dream fades and I can no longer tell. I see Syr sometimes, too, and it seems she is asking a question of me."

Adel pondered for a moment, stirring the pot with a short cooking stick. "And what do you feel when you see this vision?"

"Nothing. Nothing strong, anyway. I sometimes wake up feeling strange, but it is not frightening."

"Nor is it joyous? Confusing? Inspiring?"

Netya shook her head. "It is just a vision. It started after we left the gathering."

"Hm." Adel poked the contents of the pot around a little more. "Strange. It does not seem like a warning. Remember that Syr is a trickster spirit, also. She often appears in visions meant only to confuse us."

"Even visions that keep returning?"

Adel grumbled something under her breath. "Perhaps. I must think on it more. Tell me if you have this dream again, and pay attention the next time you are there. You know how little faith I put in premonitions, but some of them still prove to be useful. If your vision is a glimpse of things to come, we may be wise to heed it at a time like this."

"What could it mean?" Netya said, more to herself than to Adel.

"You see a person of importance, maybe. Someone who holds significance among the clans. Whoever this woman in your vision is, she may be the answer to its meaning." The den mother took Netya's handful of freshly chewed pulp once she had picked the husks out and dropped it into the pot with the rest, then wrapped the remaining pods up in the strip of rabbit skin and put them aside. "Enough about this for now. Stay focused on our work. I need you to watch the pot until a froth forms on the surface. Keep stirring, and move it off the fire if it starts to boil over."

Knowing that sharp reprimands would be in order if she let her attention wander, Netya put the visions to the back of her mind. The next time she stepped into the blue world, she would seek to confront the woman who stood alone upon the outcrop.

—25—

The Way of the Spear

It completely slipped Netya's mind that Caspian had given her a reason to excuse herself early, so engrossed had she become in the daily rhythm of her work at Adel's side. But as fortune would have it, the den mother called her apprentice's training to an end shortly before mid afternoon regardless.

"I must spare some of my attention for the other apprentices," she explained, "as is a den mother's duty to all of her acolytes."

"Are they doing well?" Netya asked as Adel led her out of the cave.

"Some better than others, though none of them are as quick to learn as you. You take your talents for granted, Netya, but you have a sharp mind for the ways of the spirits."

"Is that why you are always scolding me for my mistakes?"

The den mother snorted, the sound as close to a laugh as Netya had ever heard from her mentor. "A mind can never be sharp enough. Would you rather be an adequate seer, or a great one?"

"A great one, of course."

"Then you will have to endure my instruction." Adel gestured to one of the caves near the base of the waterfalls as they stepped outside, where the rest of the apprentices had gathered with their mentors. "I fear Meadow is too soft on her girl. She will learn nothing if she believes her mistakes are acceptable. And the dark one, Kolami, she is talented, but her clan's seers are very different from ours. She struggles to grasp the ways of the spirits as we know them." She shook her head abruptly, waving Netya off. "Go and make yourself useful with the others now. We will continue again tomorrow morning."

Netya bowed her head respectfully and left Adel to her business with the other apprentices. There was always foraging to be done now that the pack had so many mouths to feed, and so she decided to venture down the valley to a place where edible mushrooms grew beneath a damp overhang. Without a foraging partner she had no one to help with the awkward task of slinging a carrying bundle over her wolf's back, so she deigned to make the journey on two legs instead of four, with her spear balanced over one shoulder and a woven basket hanging from each end.

As she walked down from the caves she came across Caspian and the other men, all six of them watching him with blunt wooden poles in their hands as he demonstrated how to use a flint-tipped spear.