The Hills of Home (The Song of the Ash Tree Book 2) (3 page)

How much time passed, Raef was not certain, but when he opened his eyes, the sun was higher and the skin of his fingertips had begun to wrinkle. Rising, Raef pulled his shirt into the water and rubbed it between his hands until it seemed cleaner. Then he spread it on a rock to dry and did the same with his body. He did not doze, did not let his mind drift. He was alert in a way he had not been since first awakening on the ship. He had evaded the threat of imminent death, but that was no longer enough. It was time to take further action.

By the time the sun’s rays had dried his skin, Raef was ready to get to work. The hunger gnawed at him, but he did not allow it to take hold. After drinking his fill from the pool, Raef pulled on his pants, fastened the worn belt, and slipped his boots on, then retraced his steps to the place where the second rabbit had crossed his path. From there, he methodically surveyed the land, walking in increasingly large circles and taking note of every torn leaf, every pile of scat, every track in the dirt. After a time, Raef ceased to walk and instead climbed again into a tree, where he settled in to watch the forest floor below.

The sun had traveled nearly a quarter of the sky before he descended from his leafy hideout but his patience would be rewarded. Rabbits were far from scarce and he now knew what paths they liked to tread. Raef suspected several burrows lay just north of his position among a grouping of boulders and dense bushes. His own pool was the closest source of water and he had detected two distinct paths between the dens and the waterfall.

It had been several years since Raef had constructed a snare from scratch, but he had done it so often under his father’s watchful eye that he felt it had been no time at all. Milkweed and elm bark to fashion the noose, a sturdy sapling to hold it, and a twig, set just so to keep the loop open. Raef made three nooses and positioned them with care on the rabbit runs. By the time he finished, the sun was sinking and Raef resigned himself to a hungry night. The snares required patience. As he returned to the pool, collecting supplies to build a fire and more curled ferns, Raef came across a patch of mushrooms nestled beside a fallen log. Some were foreign to him, but others, to his relief, were the same he had foraged for in the forests of Vannheim. Using a large frond as a basket, Raef gathered all the mushrooms he knew were safe and returned to his waterfall.

In the growing dusk, Raef set to work creating his instruments of fire. So intent was he on his work that a deer approached the pool and began to drink before he took notice. She watched him and Raef made no move to frighten her. Perhaps he would build a bigger snare in the morning. When the tools were complete and the first spark blossomed in the darkness, Raef smiled and dropped the ember into the carefully formed tinder nest. Bringing his face close, Raef blew gently until the ember grew and engulfed the tinder in small flames. Soon the kindling began to crackle and the light of the fire sent shadows dancing across the waterfall’s pool.

Raef speared several curled fronds and held them over the flames until each was charred on the outside. The taste mellowed with the heat, making the ferns more palatable, but the mushrooms were a welcome change. When the moon was high in the sky, Raef checked his snares. All were empty, but he had not really expected more. Morning would tell if he had positioned them well.

Sleep came in fits that night, for though Raef was weary and had expelled precious energy that day, his hunger was a beast that woke him often. He lay awake listening to the sounds of the forest compete with the waterfall. An owl was close and something larger than a rabbit stirred the underbrush more than once. The fire had burned low and Raef did not bother to keep it up, but he wondered what he might do to protect himself should something with teeth and a taste for flesh come prowling too close. Several sturdy branches were close at hand. He stirred the coals enough to send up a shower of sparks and hoped that the smell of man and fire would keep any curious predators at bay.

When Raef stirred before dawn, he knew he would not sleep again. The promise of meat beckoned, and he rose to check the snares. At the first, the rabbit had broken its neck and lay still on the earth. Raef disengaged it, reset the snare, and moved on. The second rabbit was not so lucky. It squirmed at his approach and Raef could see its pulse beat under its fur. Grasping it carefully to keep his fingers out of reach of desperate teeth, Raef ended its suffering with a quick twist to the neck. The third was the same.

The fire grew quickly and though it was easier to skin rabbits with the aid of a knife, it was not long before Raef had pulled the skins from the meat and gutted the small bodies. Skewered and set over the fire, the smell of cooking meat made Raef salivate. But he remained patient, knowing that undercooked meat could upset his underfed stomach. He judged them ready when the exterior had grown black and crispy. The first bite burned his tongue, so hot he nearly spit it out, but the taste of the meat was sweeter than any mead Raef had drunk and he chewed with abandon, finally giving in to the hunger he had held at bay since awakening on the beach.

The pile of bones at Raef’s feet grew until he stripped the last bit of flesh from the third rabbit’s leg. Thirsty now, Raef gulped down handfuls of water from the pool and then leaned back against the cliff wall. The sun was warm on his bare chest and the sleep that had evaded him that night crept back like a shadow stealing across his mind. Raef let his eyes close. There was much to do, questions that needed answering, but for the moment he let himself be content with no longer feeling hungry.

If he slept, he did not know, but a shadow that was not sleep came between him and the sun. Raef opened his eyes.

The silhouette above him was lithe and lean and that of a man. At first, the brilliant sun that threatened to spill out from behind his head masked his features, but as Raef’s eyes adjusted he saw a pair of pale grey eyes in a bronze, sun-browned face. He blinked, drowsy from sun and food.

“You are a man.” It was not a question but there was curiosity there. His voice was low and cool. Raef said nothing. “And a warrior.” He leaned down and stretched out an arm until he could touch the fresh scar that ran down from Raef’s left shoulder and then the burned scar across Raef’s right side. Raef flinched and knew he should back away from the stranger, but his arms were heavy at his sides. The nearly colorless eyes drifted to the rings on both of Raef’s arms and then his fingers slid up to Raef’s ribs. There was no mark there, Raef knew, but he found the damaged bones with ease. “You have pain here.” He withdrew his hand and pushed back the long, pale hair that had fallen over his shoulder. “You should sleep.” And Raef did.

When he awoke, the stranger was gone and for a time Raef was not certain he had not dreamed of the visit. Though he had a man’s shape, his hair, skin, and eyes marked him as something other than what Raef knew, something from the stories he had learned as a child. Raef shook that from his mind. He had a hill to climb.

As Raef reached the top of the hill that fed his waterfall, he discovered it was a false summit. A much higher, rockier peak reared above and to the south, but the distance Raef had traveled was enough, for the view below him revealed much. His ribs had protested the entire climb and he knew he could not have gone much further. Sinking down on the rocky earth, Raef studied the land.

The world was green and full of life, a world on the brink between spring and summer. A pair of narrow lakes hiding between steep hills to the east sparkled in the sun. Beyond, more hills, more trees. To the south, the peaks grew more rugged, though none were true mountains, and tall, thick-trunked trees dominated their slopes. Their bark was dark, nearly black and Raef was sure each leaf stretched across a distance greater than his height. A flurry of wings drew Raef’s gaze in time to see a flock of birds emerge from the hillside below him. Up, up they rose, pumping their wings hard and fast until they reached a draft of air. Then they soared up the hillside, sweeping higher, silent now, a rush of orange, black, and sharp beaks. They passed over Raef’s head and disappeared down the western slope, a final confirmation of what Raef’s heart had already known. The unfamiliar birds, the peculiar trees, the green land when it should be winter. And above all, the stars whose names he did not know and the bronze-skinned stranger. He had crossed the boundary of Midgard. He knew not how or which of the nine worlds he now gazed upon, but he knew he had left the world of men.

FOUR

R
aef took a
deep breath and let it out. He felt his heart begin to beat as fast and hard as the birds had pumped their wings, but he forced away the panic, knowing he could not let it wash over him. It was not like the anticipation of battle. That would be welcome. The tingling skin on the back of his neck, the surge through his muscles, the battle-roar that worked its way up from deep within, an echo of his ancestors. These things he knew, these things were ingrained. And though battle was a promise of blood and death, there was no fear for Raef. But this was different.

There was no enemy here, no screaming warrior worthy of his wrath, no sword, even, with which to show his strength. He was alone and his opponent was the unknown. Raef’s mind raced with the stories of the nine worlds. Fire, ice. Treacherous giants burning with hatred for the gods. Secretive alfar, both dark and light. No safe place for man.

A clear thought penetrated the tumult of his mind and held the creeping fear at bay. It came on the wind of his father’s voice. “There is still a sun in the sky and earth beneath your feet, Raef.” Raef closed his eyes and he was on a jagged cliff in Vannheim. Above, his father waited, his expectant face peering down from the safety of the summit. Below, the world dropped away into a deep, dark fjord and Raef’s arms were beginning to tremble with exhaustion from the climb. He heard his younger self, a boy of nine, protest that it was impossible, that he would surely fall, that he could not do it. His father had not smiled, had not insisted the way was easy and that Raef would do it. At the time, Raef had seen only sternness in his father’s features. He recognized now that fear had been there as well, that Einarr had not been certain his son would survive the challenging climb.

“Look around you, Raef. This is the world and it is often harsh. You will be a warrior of Vannheim and then its lord. There is no easy path for you. You must learn to survive. And then you must learn to flourish.”

Raef had conquered the cliff that day and the exhilaration of feeling so close to the sun and knowing he alone had put himself there had stayed with him. As he grew in years and strength, the cliff became an old friend and a tangible reminder of what he was capable of.

His father’s voice died away and Raef opened his eyes. He touched the Thor hammer around his neck. Though his heart still thrummed in his chest, there was something other than fear driving it. Perhaps this was not so very different from a battle after all. He knew not what lay ahead, but there on that hilltop, Raef made a vow, to himself, to the gods, to his father. Let the gods be his witness, he would find his way home.

The shadow came from above, spiraling out of the blue until darkness fell across the sun. Raef turned, an instant too late, and was thrown back to the earth. He sprawled face down in the dirt, his chest riven with pain. Raef clutched his ribs and struggled to rise and face his attacker, but his pain turned to astonishment.

The creature that stared down at him seemed to Raef as painted wood made flesh. Bright, pulsing eyes the color of a sunset arrested any movement Raef might make. Hot breath blew from narrow nostrils and a slender tongue snaked out from between sharp teeth. It was a familiar face, for it and its kind adorned the prow of every Vannheim ship.

The beast held Raef’s gaze for a long moment then folded its immense wings into its body. It was only then that Raef noticed the rider on its back.

“You are not afraid.” The rider was as Raef remembered, only now Raef could see his pale hair was twisted behind his head and streaked through with many shades of blue. He rode tall, unaided by saddle or harness, his head held high.

“I never thought to see a dragon.”

“There are no longer dragons in this world or any other.” He smiled a little at Raef’s confusion. “What you and your kind carve in your ships is a memory, nothing more.”

“Then this is?”

“A younger, smaller cousin, you could say.”

“What do you call it?”

“That is not for you to know.” It was said without threat or judgment.

The creature stretched its neck and the rider patted it twice before sliding to the ground. He stepped closer to Raef but said nothing, his eyes roaming over Raef from head to toe.

“Am I as strange to you as you are to me?” Raef asked.

“No one who calls Midgard home has set foot here since the early days, long before your histories begin.”

“Where is here?” Raef’s voice was soft.

“Alfheim.”

Home of the light alfar and only sparsely recounted in the stories from Raef’s childhood. He knew little of the place or those who dwelled in it. “And what do you want with me?”

“What makes you think I want something from you?”

“You ride that creature across the sky and descend on me as a falcon does its prey. How could I think otherwise?”

The light in the alf’s grey eyes faded. “I must bring you to the others.”

“Then I am your prey.”

“I bear you no ill will. We do not allow strangers to roam freely.”

“Why now? Why not drag me off when I was half dead? I could not have stopped you.”

The alf looked at Raef as though this were an odd question. “You needed to live first.”

“And if I refuse to go?”

He whistled sharply and the creature rose up, spreading its wings wide. “Would you refuse him?”

The creature’s smooth, leathery skin shone under the sun, the color of the ever-changing ocean splashed with burnished gold. The sunset eyes watched Raef and a low sound emanated from deep within the beast’s throat.

“If I had a sword, I might.”

“But you do not,” the alf said, his voice now harsh. He whistled again, a different call this time, and the creature was upon Raef, wings and clawed feet extended. Raef ducked and tried to roll under its belly, but the beast twisted with ease and pinned Raef to the ground with one foot.

“I do not want to hurt you.”

Raef kept still, one sharp claw pressed into his throat. “There is more you do not say.”

He nodded. “I do not know what will happen to you. But still I must bring you. It is our way.” The alf touched the creature’s neck and it released Raef in one fluid motion. Raef stood, not removing his eyes from the stranger’s.

“What do I call you?”

“For now, nothing.” He did not ask Raef’s name but instead reached up to his mount’s back and pulled himself astride. Raef took his extended hand and climbed up behind him. The creature rolled its shoulders and unfolded its wings in anticipation of flight. Raef, despite his predicament, felt a tremor of excitement. If a command was uttered or the creature urged in any way, it was invisible to Raef. He only knew that one moment the ground was close, the next it was vanishing underneath them as strong wings propelled them toward the sun.

They soared, they dove, they danced, and for Raef it was over all too soon, though they had covered a great distance. They descended into a narrow valley, closed on all sides and guarded by sentinel trees that rose above the rest. It was quiet there and it seemed to Raef a forest full of memory as they dismounted from the creature’s back. The beast took to the air at once and soon disappeared from sight.

“This way. We continue on foot from here.” The alf led the way and the forest seemed to come alive with every step he took until Raef was certain he heard singing. The voices were soft and wordless and Raef stopped and looked for them among the treetops.

“What is that singing?”

The alf seemed surprised. “Do not your trees sing to welcome you home?”

Raef raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “A sorrowful welcome, is it not?”

“Sorrow? I hear only joy.” The alf furrowed his brow for a moment but then motioned for Raef to continue. “I should warn you. Others will not be as friendly as I have been.”

Raef wanted to laugh. “Friendly?”

The alf frowned, not understanding Raef’s amusement. “We are not comfortable among strangers.”

“Even strangers who have done no harm?” Raef asked. The alf offered no response. “Do they know I am here?”

“No.” The alf paused and took a moment to turn in a circle, his gaze taking in everything both high and low around them. The singing had stopped. Raef began to speak but he silenced him with a raised hand. “You must go first, now.”

Raef hesitated. The alf carried two weapons, a pair of knives. One lay on his hip, the other at the small of his back. Every step Raef took lessened his chances of escape and the absence of the creature made the alf less formidable. He took two steps, as though to pass in front as he had been directed. Neither took their eyes from the other but Raef was quick, grabbing the alf’s right wrist, twisting, turning, extracting the second knife and spinning away before he could react.

“You have done me no harm and I do not wish to do you any. But I am leaving.”

The alf’s eyes showed surprise that Raef had disarmed him, but his features smoothed over quickly. He did not draw the other knife. “You asked if they knew you were here. I lied. They know. There are eyes upon us even at this moment. You will not get far.” The planes of his face went still and hard, and the pale eyes were unforgiving.

Raef shrugged. “I must try.” He turned and began to retrace his steps. The alf did not follow.

“You may call me Aerath.”

Raef paused but did not face him.

“If you go beyond my sight, I cannot help you. The dragon-kin will come for you. It will not be painless.”

Raef turned and met Aerath’s gaze. “Can you guarantee my safety?”

“No. But I can guarantee your death if you go.”

Not a leaf stirred above them and not a sound could be heard, but Raef sensed predatory eyes and knew Aerath spoke the truth. He closed the distance between them and handed the knife back to him, hilt first. The blade was sleek and cool in his palm and he was loath to part with it. It had felt good to hold a weapon again, even for so short a time. Aerath pulled it from his hand and returned it to its home. His eyes held neither trust nor suspicion.

“I have given you my name,” he began.

“Not your real one, I think.”

Aerath acknowledged this with a nod. “It is not something we share with those outside our blood ties. Only those closest to me in our clan know my true name. But perhaps you will share yours with me.”

“Raef.” He did not elaborate.

“Then come, Raef, the Guardians await.”

“The Guardians?”

Aerath nodded, his face solemn and respectful. “Our guides, our most sacred council.”

The moss grew thick under Raef’s boots as they walked deeper into the valley, sinking beneath him and then springing up in his wake, silencing his every step. Raef thought of Vakre and his skill at moving through a forest. Vakre would have enjoyed this place. Though the trees were high all around, light still filtered to the earth, illuminating the brilliant green moss that marched up every tree trunk.

Aerath was quiet behind him until he reached out to touch Raef’s shoulder. “Stop here.” He gestured ahead to where a steep knoll rose up from the forest floor. “Just there, over that rise, they will be waiting. You will see the six Guardians and it will be up to you to know who ranks first among them.”

“How will I tell?”

“Use your eyes, your ears, but make up your mind quickly. They will not be patient. Do not look any of them in the eye. When you have decided, make eye contact only with the one you have chosen.” Aerath hesitated. “You must not be the first to look away.”

“And if I am wrong?”

Aerath shrugged. “Their moods are changeable.”

Raef nodded and continued on. Beyond the knoll, was a hall. It was open to the air and the sky and the rain. Dozens of slender tree trunks framed three curving sides and a canopy of leaves arched overhead. Though filled with Aerath’s people, all of pale hair and warm, brown skin, it was silent but for the chatter of birds overhead. At the far end, occupying delicate wooden stools, six tall, graceful figures watched Raef, each with eyes so faded, so light that Raef, from his distance, could see no traces of color in them. They watched him, unblinking and impenetrable.

Raef approached, his steps slow but unafraid. The crowd parted before him, whispers in long robes, but he had eyes only for those ahead, his gaze roaming over each, trying to decipher their challenge.

“Midgardian.” The speaker was the farthest to Raef’s right, male and owner of a clear, ringing voice. “How is it that you have come here?”

“Not by my own will,” Raef said. He did not linger on the speaker but looked down the line at each in turn. “I bring no trouble.” Not the first to speak, too obvious. And not the most imposing, a male on the left, for the same reason. “I wish only to return to my own land.”

“Where there are strangers, trouble follows.”

This one was female and she did not bother to hide her displeasure.

“Is it the stranger’s fault, or is it of your own making?” Not her, too antagonistic.

“Speak no insult, Midgardian.” She spit out her name for him as though it was a vile word. “You should be honored to be among us.”

“Should I? You have done me no great courtesy.” Raef continued to look between the three who had not yet spoken, focusing on their chins to keep from making eye contact. “You have given me no reason to honor you. I have been brought here against my will and you do not even give me your name.”