Immortal (29 page)

Caeran laid the guitar case on the floor and unlatched it. “Only because we have had longer to acquire a multitude of skills. You are thinking of Madóran.”

“Of course I'm thinking of Madóran. He's freaking amazing. And how about you—can you play? Better than I can, I bet.”

“No. I have never been especially skilled at music. I play the flute a little, that is all.”

He lifted the lid, revealing a guitar that looked surprisingly plain. I'd expected beautiful wood, filigree work and inlay, maybe Madóran's carving. Instead it just looked old.

I lifted it out, looking for a maker's mark or some other clue to its origin. There was nothing. Sitting on a hassock, I settled it in my lap and ran my thumb across the strings. It was in perfect tune, so Madóran must play or at least take good care of it. The tone was warm and mellow.

Caeran sat on the banco, watching me expectantly. I glanced at him.

“I'm not very good.”

He just smiled.

I strummed a couple of chords, feeling self-conscious. I hadn't played much in the last couple of years. My guitar was at home, at my folks' house. I knew a few bits of fingerstyle that I'd picked up from listening to CDs, but nothing really showy. Most of what I knew were folk songs that my mom sang to us when we were kids.

There was the song about a logger who stirred his coffee with his thumb. I wasn't sure I could remember all the words, though, and it was a silly song anyway.

I sang “Shenandoah,” because I could remember it, and because it was easy. It also fit my mood—the yearning. A note I'd been fond of in my miserable teens. It still resonated for me, so that singing it was actually comforting. I zoned off into the music, forgetting everything, even Caeran.

As quietly as I played and sang, it wasn't quiet enough. When I reached the end of the song and looked up, there were others in the room: Madóran and the three I'd seen with him in the kitchen, watching me along with Caeran.

“More, please,” Caeran said.

“Um …”

“Please,” said Bironan, surprising me. Usually he looked annoyed, but now his face was softer than I'd ever seen it.

I launched into “The Water is Wide,” followed by “The Minstrel Boy.” That one got the ælven exchanging glances; apparently the war and slavery talk disturbed them. My ignorant, savage tribe was still hashing out those problems.

What was I doing here? I didn't belong with these people. I
loved
being around them, but I could never fit in with them, really.

My fingers fidgeted on the strings, restless, seeking the comfort of a familiar pattern. Strumming through a sequence of chords, I looked for a song that would suit my mood but not offend my listeners. Too many of the stories were about violence and loss. Even the lumberjack song ended sadly.

A knock at the front door made me freeze for a moment. Madóran left the room. The other ælven seemed unconcerned, and after a moment I heard Madóran and someone else talking in Spanish. I caught “huevos” and “leche” and knew it was the grocery delivery.

Turning back to the music, I switched to newer songs—still old, but some of the songs from the sixties and seventies had more of a spirit of hope. I stumbled through Taylor's “You've Got A Friend,” followed it with the Beatles's “I Will,” then fell silent.

“Thank you, Lenore,” Madóran said.

I looked up and saw that all the others had gathered, everyone except Savhoran. The were all looking at me, their faces sentimental. Caeran gazed at me, openly adoring, as if he thought I'd been singing that last song just for him.

Well, I had. Too self-conscious to sing any more, I laid the guitar back in its case.

“It's a beautiful instrument. Thanks for letting me play it.”

“You are welcome to play it whenever you wish.” Madóran looked around the room at the others. “It is time.”

Glancing at the windows, I saw that the daylight had gone golden outside, and the shadow of the hacienda was slanting long across the field. The front
portal
had been dark since noon, with the sun passing west toward the back of the house.

My stomach twisted into a knot. Caeran moved closer and took my hand.

“Do we wait here?” Faranin asked.

Madóran gazed out the windows. “When the sun sets, we will go outside. Gather your cloaks.”

The ælven dispersed. Caeran and I stayed where we were, neither of us having a cloak to fetch. I thought about going and grabbing the blanket off my bed, but I didn't want to move.

“What do we do if this doesn't work?” I asked in a small voice.

Caeran was silent for a moment. “If he refuses, we will kill him.”

“But you can't—Madóran promised he would be safe, coming here.”

“Not here, not now. But we will find him and kill him.”

I swallowed, thinking of Savhoran, thinking of Caeran's wound. Gehmanin wasn't so easy to kill.

“You'd think he'd have left, knowing that.”

“He is stubborn.”

I moved to sit beside Caeran and wrapped my arms around him, laying my head on his shoulder. He winced, and I looked up at him.

“Shouldn't that have healed by now?”

A slight frown creased his brow. “It is not an ordinary wound.”

Terror whispered across my shoulders. I held Caeran tighter, trying to be careful of his wound. I
couldn't
lose him. Not possible, and especially not in such a way.

His arms closed around me, warm and comforting. I shut out the fear, the dark thoughts, and tried to just bask in the incredible glory of him.

Caeran? Talk to me?

Saying what?

I closed my eyes, letting his presence fill me.
Anything.

He didn't give me words. I didn't need them now. As he held me, I felt complete bliss. Keeping this was worth anything I had to face.

We both heard the door open, and looked up, but didn't separate. Madóran came in, a dark gold cloak around his shoulders. He carried a pile of cloth which he shook out into two more cloaks, one green, one brown.

“You may need these.”

Reluctantly, we disentangled ourselves and went to accept the cloaks. I felt relief as the brown cloak settled around my shoulders, brushing the floor. Safer somehow.

“Thank you, Madóran,” Caeran said.

Our host nodded. I heard the others gathering in the entryway, and Madóran led us to join them. Caeran caught my hand.

We filed outside, onto the front
portal
, facing east. The clear sky above the horizon glowed pink, and the quality of the daylight was muted. No more shadows. The sun had set.

I held the edges of my cloak together in front of me, one arm sticking out as I clung to Caeran's hand. He stepped closer. We stood waiting, watching the light fade. The pink was gone from the sky when the ælven began to stir and whisper.

They'd seen him. I peered toward the horizon, straining to catch any sign of movement. After a minute I saw him walking across the field.

Adrenaline punched me and I tensed. Caeran's hand tightened around mine.

He will not touch you.

I nodded, fighting down the instinct to run. To a hunter like that, it would only be an invitation.

The alben crossed the driveway, glancing at my car as he passed it. His lip curved in disdain as if he didn't like how it smelled.

You're the one who torched it, asshole.

I didn't want to think his name. He didn't deserve a name. He didn't hear me either, apparently, or if he did he chose to ignore me.

He stopped at the edge of the
portal
and looked up at Madóran. “You wished to talk?”

“Swear you will make no move to harm any of these folk,” Madóran said, taking in the gathered ælven and me with a gesture.

The alben glanced at us, his gaze lingering on me for a second, then nodded. “I swear.”

“And we in turn swear to let you leave in peace.”

The alben tilted his head, looking amused. “So, now that we have finished swearing, what do you wish to discuss?”

“Your departure,” said Madóran. “We wish you to leave this land.”

The alben looked around as if admiring Madóran's property. “But I only just arrived, and I rather like it.”

“You will leave here, leave the country, and not return for ten years.”

The alben laughed. “Ten years?”

“In ten years time, I may have the beginnings of a cure for your ailment.”

The laughter ceased abruptly. The alben's eyes sharpened as he stared at Madóran. “So it is true? You continued to seek a cure?”

Madóran nodded. A look of painful hope came into the alben's face.

“I knew you would! You never give up, even when hope is beyond reach.”

“Especially then.”

The alben laughed again, and excitement sparked in his eyes. “So you will help me!”

“I cannot help you now, Gehmanin.”

“But if you have found a cure—”

“I have not. Only a new avenue to pursue. It will take at least ten years for me to know whether a cure is possible.”

The alben frowned, hope fading. “And in the meantime you banish me?”

“Yes.” Madóran's voice took on its stern tone. “If anyone here or any of my neighbors comes to harm, I will cease to look for a cure.”

“You cannot hold their misadventures against me!”

“Not if you are outside the country, true. I suggest you leave at once.”

The alben's nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed fury until he lidded them, looking down at the ground. His shoulders moved with his sharp breathing. I shifted closer to Caeran, frightened of the hunter. Gradually the alben calmed, until he raised his head once more and spoke in softer tones.

“A word, Madóran?”

Caeran stiffened. I heard a whispered, “No!” from down the
portal
.

Madóran raised a hand, gesturing for peace. He stepped toward the alben, who smiled now, and held out a hand as if to shake hands. Madóran clasped his arm as I'd seen the ælven do. The alben's smile widened.

Suddenly he spun and jerked Madóran's arm, slinging him over his shoulder. He was off and running across the field before the ælven could cry out.

“God
dammit!
” I yelled, wrenching my hand from Caeran's and digging in my pocket for my keys as I ran to my car.

“Len, no!”

“Get in if you're coming!”

I yanked open the driver door and threw myself into the car, mashing the key into the ignition and pumping the gas as I cranked the sleepy engine. The car was cold and stank of burned plastic.

Ælven ran across the driveway in front of me, pursuing the alben. I pulled my trailing cloak into the car and slammed my door. Heard the other doors opening, felt the weight of passengers getting in, front and back.

The engine roared to life and I floored it, tires spinning in the snow until they got traction. I careened off down the driveway, trusting the ælven to stay out of my way. They had much faster reflexes.

“Damn that bastard! That sonofabitch! Can you see him?”

“No,” Caeran said beside me. “They have reached the woods.”

I was driving too fast, pissed because I knew I probably wasn't helping much, if at all. The alben could evade me by going cross-country. Best I could do was maybe limit his choices.

“I do not understand,” said someone from the back seat. “Why did Madóran not fight?”

“Bastard probably zapped him,” I said, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the two guys in the back—Nathrin and one of the others, Lomen maybe.

“Len!”

I looked back at the driveway and stomped on the brakes. I was nearly to the road.

The car fishtailed in the snow, throwing my unbelted passengers around until I got it under control just short of ramming into Madóran's beautiful gatepost. I turned right, heading for Guadalupita down a highway that was slushy but mostly clear. The sand trucks had been out, and the warm day had melted most of the snow.

“You might want to fasten your seat belts,” I said.

Murmuring voices from the back as Nathrin helped Lomen figure that out. I kept my eyes on the road, watching for any flicker of movement. The alben would probably stay in the trees as much as he could, avoiding the open fields and meadows. That would narrow his choices, too.

“Have they crossed the road?” I wondered aloud.

“I think not,” Caeran said.

“Can you tell where they are?”

He closed his eyes, frowning in concentration. I slowed down as a pair of headlights approached from the south.