Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (48 page)

"I thought fear was something I had grown beyond," the young man said. "But now I understand why even the mightiest warriors are scared of witches."

"No one is beyond fear," Caspian said. "Only the crazed or the ignorant believe that. A coward is not a man who feels fear, only one who lets it control him. And a wise man knows that fear can make him strong. Stronger, perhaps, than anything else."

Kin continued to bob his head. Perhaps he only wanted to be left alone, or perhaps he was finally allowing Caspian's advice to sink in. He accepted the parcel of leaf-wrapped mushrooms and meat that Netya passed to him silently, taking slow bites, as if he feared his stomach was about to turn at any moment.

By the time Kin's brothers awoke and came to sit with him some of the colour had returned to his cheeks, and he managed to muster the energy to greet them with a smile and at least a shade of his usual spirit. It was as Netya had said, Caspian reflected. Kin was not wicked or ill-intentioned. In some ways he was quite like Khelt. Brash and quick to act, and sometimes too driven by his ideas of courage and honour to see his actions for what they truly were. There was hope for him yet.

Caspian withdrew from his place by the fire and gravitated back toward Netya, who was hovering at the edge of the group as if she had something else on her mind. None of the others seemed to have noticed, but Caspian knew when she was preoccupied.

"If you were a wolf, your tail would be wagging," he said, taking her by the hand and drawing her in close so that he could check on her healing wound.

Netya shook her head slightly, working her lower lip back and forth between her teeth. "It is only an idea. A worry, really. Miral's warriors may be here within a day now."

Caspian nodded, his expression falling at the grim reminder of what was to come. He had spent much time dwelling on his own words about courage ever since Netya had returned. "Yes, if the man you spoke to is to be believed. After tonight no one will sleep lightly."

"I have been thinking, the seers are used to their herbs," Netya continued, "but after seeing what they did to Kin... They could steal away the strength of even the bravest warriors."

"Lyucia says the poison on the traps we laid will do even worse than that. Many of Miral's warriors might be rendered helpless by it."

"Yes," Netya said tersely, "many. And they might. But not all. And not for certain."

Caspian gave her a curious look. "You are thinking of a way we could afflict all of them with the same visions? At the same time?"

"I do not know. The herbs Adel used on Kin grow everywhere here. We would have enough for as many traps as Briar could make. They may not be as strong as the poison, but they might still work."

A spark of excitement flared at the back of Caspian's mind. The preparations they had been making had been helpful, yes, but nothing to convince him that they would survive an attack by Miral without a great deal of blood being spilled. It was too optimistic to hope for anything else. Too optimistic, and yet Netya seemed to have stumbled upon an answer.

"Why would we need traps?" he said. "The seers make use of those herbs by burning them and breathing the smoke."

Netya's eyes widened, and she clutched his hand tight. "Yes! We could gather enough of them to build great bonfires! Big enough to fill the whole valley with smoke, like the fronds we burn for the summer celebration!"

"Perhaps not the entire valley, but at least the forest at the western end. Between the smoke and the traps, Miral's whole pack would be afflicted if they came through that way."

"They might even turn back in fear before they reach the den!"

Caspian held her hand firmly, trying to temper her excitement even though he could feel it threatening to surge up inside him as well. "We must still be ready to fight. Miral is cunning, and the fates can be cruel. But this idea—it may save many lives."

Netya nodded, her excitement refusing to dim. "Come, let us tell the den mother! We could fill the entire forest with fires if everyone helped!"

A grin finally slipped past Caspian's lips as Netya dragged him up the slope toward Adel's cave. Perhaps the spirits really did protect this place. He did not want to lose his good sense to hope, but Netya's plan was an idea the likes of which he had never heard before. Magic powerful enough to cast an entire rival clan into the spirit world at once. Truly, it would be the work of a great sorceress to see such a thing done.

* * *

As soon as the den mother heard Netya's idea she wasted no time in setting the clan to work. Only a few who were carrying out other duties, and Pera, who was still recovering from his wounds, were excused from the task of picking the valley clean of its abundant crop of leafy herbs. Even the men, who would surely rather have been training with their weapons, seemed to grasp the importance of Netya's plan after seeing how shaken Kin's brush with the spirit world had left him.

There was no time to dry out the plants properly, so instead several pyres of dry fuel had to be built at the base of each bonfire. A task that had first seemed so simple quickly became the effort of an entire day as groups were forced to venture out past the maze of traps to gather more wood and kindling. By the time dusk arrived Netya was aching from an afternoon spent bent over cutting plants. Her fingers were sticky with the scent of the spirit herbs, and she was thankful that they were not strong enough to affect her by smell alone.

After throwing the fruits of her labour atop one of the ever-growing piles of greenery next to the closest pyre, she tucked her knife into her waist wrap and headed back to the den. They had gathered more than enough herbs to burn, but it was better to be safe than sorry. As Adel had impressed upon them, there was no guarantee that Miral would turn tail and run after a single attempt to enter the valley. They might need to keep the bonfires burning for many more nights if the alpha proved to be stubborn.

On her way back Netya came across Lyucia's mother chanting words in the tongue of the Sun People as she laid out a pattern of sticks upon the grass in front of the stag skull cairn, throwing her hands up to the sky and casting them down again every few moments.

"What magic is this, Mother?" Netya inquired, lingering just short of the sticks in case she disturbed whatever ritual the elder was performing.

"Shaman magic, from the North People," she replied, keeping her face turned to the west as she tossed another stick at her feet and threw her hands up to the sky again, her silvery blonde hair shining in the emergent light of the moon. "They know how to call the wind and rain to feed their crops. I learned their ways from Shaman Lutek, back when we were both young."

"I know little of shaman magic. Can they really do such things?"

The elder snorted with amusement in between her chants. "The den mother believes not, but what harm will it do? If the wind blows west when Miral and his wolves come, all the better to carry the smoke of our fires to him."

Netya watched for a little longer as Lyucia's mother continued her ritual, but soon the familiar words leaving her lips started to evoke feelings of melancholy rather than comfort. They reminded Netya of the songs and lullabies of her own kind. Songs that were still being sung somewhere far, far away, by a family that would never know what became of their lost daughter. She could have spent an eternity questioning where her life would have led if she returned home when she still had the chance. An eternity of which only the first moment had yet passed. Would she die here, defending this valley against the claws of Miral's warriors? It almost amused her to realise that even death had lost the terrifying sting it once held. A person could only face such a fear so many times before it grew numb and cold, like a deep and bottomless lake rather than a sharp blade of ice.

No, it was not her own death she feared most, but the loss of those closest to her. Losing Caspian, Fern, or Adel. Wren. Selo. Any of her clan.

She had been little more than a guest in Khelt's pack when she lived among them, but the trials she had been through with Adel's had bonded her to the small group. She was part of them, and they were part of her. This was her home now, for better or worse, and she could not bear the thought of seeing any harm come to it.

A long, low howl drifted into the valley from the west; a signal from the scouts that all was quiet. When the howls stopped in lieu of three sharp barks, or worse, fell silent entirely, it would be the signal that Miral's warriors had reached the edge of their territory. That was when the bonfires would be lit. That was when the pack would make themselves ready to fight.

When Netya returned to the den it was beneath a veil of sadness, her burst of excitement from earlier having burnt itself out as she settled into the tense limbo of waiting. Teetering on the brink of something terrible. She ate and bathed, though she took no more than a few mouthfuls before leaving the rest of the food for those who needed it more. There had been little time to hunt or forage since she returned, and the pack were already starting to eat into their already scant winter supplies.

Caspian joined her as she washed beneath the waterfalls, and while the sensation of his naked body cupping hers and the kisses he left upon her shoulder were comforting, she could not wrest her thoughts from the impending danger.

"You were like this when you feared your dreams," he said, sensing her agitation. "You will not sleep until you find something to soothe you."

"My dreams have been much kinder lately," she replied, swallowing a sudden tension in her throat.

Caspian slid his arms around her bare midriff, his voice mingling with the patter of the falling water as he brushed his nose along the shell curve of her ear. "Tell me about them."

She shook her head faintly, stiffening as the blue world and the woman contained therein flashed through her mind. "I promised myself I would, but now— It is not right. If we turn back Miral and his clan, then I will sit awake all night long telling you of my dreams."

Caspian kissed her ear, his lips enveloping the cold lobe for a blissfully hot instant. "But if we fail, then my spirit will be left forever wondering."

"You should not talk of such things."

He sighed, bending down to rest his cheek alongside hers as they gazed into the rippling water together. "If not now, then when? There are things we should say at times like this. Things that we may never have another chance to."

"But speaking of them makes them real," Netya said softly.

"Is that why you will not speak of your dreams, because they hold something you fear? I know your heart, Netya. You must have seen something meaningful to be so reluctant to speak of it."

"I have," she replied, lacing her fingers over his as his hands rose to cup her breasts. "It will do no good to dwell on it now."

"I know you are afraid," he said. "I am too. We could let fear take from us what might be our last night together in this world, or we could savour it. Speak the truths that would frighten us on any other day. Say the things we wish we could keep saying forever."

Netya turned to him, resting her palms upon his chest, feeling the warm throb of his heartbeat as he drew her in close. Stray droplets of water pattered upon her forehead as she closed her eyes and turned her face skyward, feeling the dim light of the moon shine down upon her from between the clouds.

"You want to tell me something," Caspian said. "So tell me now. Let tonight be the moment. Do not lose that happiness to fear."

"Do you know," Netya replied, her voice sombre. "I cannot remember the last time I was truly happy. Oh, I am happy when I am with you, for a night, or a day. Or for an evening with Fern. Or a lesson with Adel. But for as long as I have been with your kind, everything had turned back into fear before long. Something always waits to take my happiness away, like a dark spirit circling my heart. It keeps me going. It keeps me strong, knowing that I strive to be rid of it; that one day I might wake in the morning and know that nothing threatens to take away what I love. But still, it has always been there. Whether it is Vaya, or Miral, or my love for you—or even the cold of winter. It has been so long since I went more than a short time without my fears returning."

"The things we care for are powerful when they keep us strong despite such hardships. That is what I remember when I wake with the same worries."

Netya smiled and opened her eyes, gazing up at Caspian's calming face. He had a way of making even the bleakest of things seem somehow beautiful.

"This thing you have to tell me," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Is it good?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I think so, yes."

"Then tell me. Give me one more thing to care for, so that I will fight through any number of Miral's wolves to hold on to it for another day."

Netya took a deep breath, her fingers working their way up to Caspian's shoulders, squeezing and stroking almost desperately. "Kiss me," she said.

His lips met hers almost before the words had left her throat, stealing her breath away in a deep embrace that brought the warmth of his tongue close to hers and the beat of his heart tight against her breast. She clung to the back of his neck hard, pressing her mouth to his as if she would never again have the chance to kiss him, letting his presence envelop her and draw her in to the safe place where her fears died and her wolf's spirit mingled with her own, soothing away everything but the needs of the moment.