The Shaman's Curse (Dual Magics Book 1) (19 page)

Vatar had everything ready for an early departure before he
left for his final “lesson” with Cestus. Over Avaza’s protests, he’d arranged
their departure for third day, so that he could have one more visit with Father
and Cestus.

He was a little surprised, but very pleased, to find that
Boreala had joined them and Father had arranged a small, private farewell party
for him. His heart constricted a little at the thought of saying goodbye. He
hadn’t known any of them much longer than Avaza, but these three were more his
family than Avaza would ever be.

Father echoed his thoughts. “Will you be coming back to us
next winter?”

Vatar sighed. “I really don’t know. I want to. It’s a great
opportunity—for me and for the Dardani. But Avaza certainly won’t want to come
back.” He snorted. “That wouldn’t bother me, but with the baby . . . I guess
I’ll just have to wait and see.”

Boreala placed her hand on his arm. “Avaza may feel
differently after the baby comes. It’s been hard on her to be in a strange
place during her pregnancy.”

Hard on me, too.
But his newly-developed sensitivity
to saying the wrong thing kept Vatar from voicing that thought. “I hope so.” He
forced a smile. This wasn’t goodbye forever, after all. “I’ll certainly be able
to come back with Pa when he comes to trade.” He did a quick mental calculation
about when Boreala had said the baby would be due.  “Maybe not this year,
but next year for sure.”

Father stepped closer. “Vatar, I’ve never mentioned this to
you before because . . . well, frankly, I’ve thought that you were safer not
knowing as long as you were in the city. And now there’s no time to train you.”

From the corner of his eye, Vatar saw Cestus shaking his
head violently.

“What is it, Father?”

Cestus blew out his breath. “It’s something most of the
Fasallon can do, Vatar. It’s not . . . I don’t think it’s anything you’d call
magic.”

Vatar swallowed and took a step back.
Magic?

“It’s certainly not anything to be afraid of,” Cestus
hastily added. “I don’t think even
Father
could hurt anyone with it. It
. . . just lets us talk to each other over distances. Well, most of us. My
range doesn’t extend much beyond the Temple grounds.”

Vatar tried to force his rigid muscles to relax. “I don’t
have any magic!”

Father took a step forward, palms out. “Actually, son, I’m
sure you do.”

Cestus stepped between them. “I think we should change the
subject. Vatar and I agreed not to discuss magic when we first started our
lessons. His people—the Dardani—have some . . . negative views on the subject.”

Father lowered his arms to his sides and stepped back. A
flash of disappointment crossed his face. “All right, then. If the subject
makes you uncomfortable, we’ll say no more about it.” He picked up a goblet of
wine. “Here’s to your return to us for however brief a time next summer.”

~

Vatar suppressed a sigh of frustration as he reined his
horse to a stop
again.
They’d already been riding across the plains for
three days. Riding alone or with Pa, he’d have been at Zeda already. Sky above
and earth below! It only took four days to move a herd between Zeda and Caere,
but he estimated they were only about half-way to the summer village. At this
rate, it’d take another three or four days to get home.

He dismounted and walked around to help Avaza to the ground.
He understood she was uncomfortable. It couldn’t be easy riding with a belly
that made her awkward and ungainly. Boreala had even warned him that she’d need
to relieve herself often because of the pressure on internal . . . things. But
this was ridiculous.

Avaza hung onto him for support. “How much longer? I’m tired
of riding. I want to be home.” Her voice rose to a whine on the last few words.

Vatar gritted his teeth. She asked that at just about every
stop—roughly ten or twelve times a day. He’d always deflected the question with
a vague answer. He was tired of that, too. Maybe a dose of truth would persuade
her to move along just a little faster. “Three or four more days at this pace.”

Avaza tried to turn too fast and almost fell. “Four more
days! Why are we taking the long way? It didn’t take this long to get to Caere
the first time.”

Vatar grimaced as her voice rose in pitch and volume. “We
didn’t stop ten times a day, either.”

“I can’t help it. You have no idea how hard it is to try to
ride like this,” Avaza said, the whine returning to her voice.

Vatar let go of her elbow and stepped back, completely done
with this conversation. Done with trying to accomplish the impossible task of
appeasing her, too. His voice rose to match hers. “No, I don’t. And you didn’t
have to either. You were supposed to be taking urulu weed so this wouldn’t
happen. Just that one simple thing. That really shouldn’t have been too
difficult.” It was precisely the wrong thing to say and he knew it. He just
didn’t care anymore.

“Well, I didn’t get this way by myself!” Avaza stalked off
toward the nearest bush.

Vatar watched her go, shaking his head. Seemed she
could
walk under her own power when she wanted to.

Now that he thought about it, Dardani women rode in all
stages of pregnancy and the only time he’d ever known a clan to be delayed in
moving from one camp or village to another was once, when a woman actually went
into labor. It was the other women who determined how fast and far the
mother-to-be could ride safely. Seemed the other women, the clan sisters Avaza
was pining for, weren’t necessarily all that sympathetic. Not as considerate as
he’d been so far, anyway. Maybe it was time to push a little harder. He could
stand Avaza being angry with him. He’d been dealing with that for months now.
The very thought of her going into labor before they reached Zeda sent chills
down his spine.
That
was something he knew he wasn’t ready for.

~

Vatar sighed with relief on reaching the Zeda waterhole.

As soon as he lifted her down, Avaza pushed away from him.
She unhooked her bag from behind her saddle and started walking—well,
waddling—towards the Raven Clan huts. “I’m going back to my own clan—where
people care about me.” Abruptly she stopped and fished around at the bottom of
her bag. She hurled the egg-shaped iron ball Vatar had given her at his head.
“And you can take that back, too!”

Vatar ducked, allowing the ball to fall harmlessly behind
him. Well, that was one way to signal the end of their relationship, that Avaza
no longer considered herself his year mate. He’d been willing to stick it out
with her, because of the baby. Evidently that wasn’t what she wanted. Fine,
then. He probably should be upset, but he couldn’t find any emotion but relief
inside. He couldn’t find anything to say, either, so he turned around and
started to unload the pack horses.

Pa came to help him. “I’m sorry, son.”

Vatar shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Pa winced. “That bad, eh?”

“You have no idea.”

~

Vatar carried his bags through the village to the Lion Clan’s
bachelor hut. He was a grown man, now and there was no emergency like last
year’s tiger attacks to force the younger men to stay close to help defend
their families. It was more usual and appropriate for young men like him to
live in the bachelor hut.

On his way, he saw his old friends Daron and Ariad across
the central square. He hailed them, but got no response. Well, maybe they
hadn’t recognized his voice. He had been gone all winter, after all. He hurried
forward to greet them. Only when he got close did he realize that they were
talking quietly to Miriada, Ariad’s tiger-scarred sister. Moreover, Miriada was
weeping silently. He slowed down, not wanting to intrude.

“Hush, Miriada,” Daron was saying. “Don’t pay attention to
them. They’re only jealous of your strength and courage. Those little fools
know they’d never have survived what you did.”

Miriada looked up at him, adoration shining through her
tear-filled eyes. Vatar noticed that her hair wasn’t tied back at the nape of
her neck, as nearly all Dardani women wore it, but loose and trained so as to
partially obscure the side of her face that had been raked by the tiger’s
claws.

“What’s wrong?” Vatar asked.

Ariad spun, half in a fighting posture. He relaxed. “Oh,
it’s you, Vatar.”

“What’s going on?” Vatar repeated.

Ariad scowled. “Oh, nothing. Just more of Maktaz’s petty
little tricks. I don’t mind so much when it’s aimed at me, but Miriada had
nothing to do with Torkaz’s death. Why make her life miserable, too?”

“Maktaz?” After the tiger hunt, Vatar hadn’t given Maktaz
another thought. Well, to be honest, he’d been too occupied with Avaza—one way
and another. He’d assumed that was all over after they’d proven themselves
against the tigers.

“He hasn’t forgotten,” Daron said. “Or forgiven.”

“Mostly, it’s been small, spiteful things,” Ariad added.

Daron snorted. “Except when he influenced Rakela against me.
That wasn’t so small, at least to me. She’s someone else’s year mate, now.”

“But he had no cause to tell those idiotic little Raven Clan
girls that Miriada’s scars are a sign that she’s cursed. That was going too
far,” Ariad said through clenched teeth.

Vatar could scarcely believe his ears. “He didn’t!”

Daron patted Miriada’s shoulder. “Oh, yes, he did. And just
for spite, too.”

Vatar shook his head. “Can’t the chiefs do anything to stop
him?”

“If he did anything overtly, maybe they could,” Ariad said.
“But it’s all just snide remarks to gullible people. It’s always those people
who go and do whatever Maktaz has thought up. Never anything that he can be
blamed for. Never anything that we can do much about.”

Daron turned from Miriada momentarily. “Now that you’re
back, you’d better watch out, too. It’s no secret that Maktaz blames you and
the spears you made for our success in the tiger hunt. For us killing the
tigers instead of the other way around. He’ll be after you, too.”

Ariad nodded agreement. “He’d rather hurt you than us, I
think. He may even leave us alone to concentrate on you.”

~

Despite his friends’ warnings about Maktaz, Vatar felt like
a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He went to work at his improvised
forge and sang along with the iron and steel as he worked. He slid the
arrowhead he’d been working on into the fire and stopped to pull off his tunic
in the combined heat of the forge and summer on the plains. Before going back
to work, he grabbed a cloth to wipe the sweat from his face.

As he looked into the furnace to judge the heat of his
arrowhead, Vatar blinked and smiled. Looking back at him from the flames was
the face of a red-haired girl with startling green eyes. He hadn’t seen that
face as he worked since . . . well, in about a year. Not since he’d taken up
with Avaza. This girl wasn’t real, of course, but . . . there was no harm in a
little daydreaming. For some reason, looking at that improbable face had always
made him feel good. Sometimes, like now, even as if he were flying.

For just a moment, he thought about Cestus’s mention of a
magical ability to communicate over distances. No. That was crazy. Vatar had no
magic and the red-haired girl wasn’t real. But . . . what if?

He closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could, “
Hello?
”

He waited, but there was no answer. Just as he’d thought.
The image faded away and Vatar pulled the arrowhead back out and put it on the
anvil. Daydream over. He had no reason to feel disappointed at what he’d known
all along. Time to get back to work.

At the voice in her mind, Thekila’s concentration faltered
and she started to sink toward the ground. She felt Quetza’s powers reach out
and
catch
her by the metal-studded harness. Good thing she’d let Quetza
persuade her to continue wearing it. A few powerful wing strokes carried her
back to the updraft and she began spiraling upward in the rising air again.
Quetza’s grip eased as the warm air took over the job of supporting Thekila’s
eagle form.

When she’d risen high enough, she pulled her wings back and
dove to land on the ledge. She took a step forward and then flowed back into
her natural form.

“What happened out there?” Quetza asked. “You haven’t made a
mistake like that in a long time. You were almost too far away for me to catch
you.”

Thekila grinned. “Sorry. I lost my concentration.” She
laughed. “He’s back.”

Quetza’s eyes narrowed. “He? As in the secret admirer that
just disappeared last summer?”

“That’s the one.” Thekila frowned. “It looked like he’d had
a rough time, lately, too. Kind of haggard.” One side of her mouth turned up.
“But he smiled at me and said hello.”

“Well,” Quetza said. “I can’t say I think much of his
timing. And you need to keep your mind on what you’re doing if you’re going to
pass your test next month.”

Vatar stepped up out of the bachelor hut one morning after
midsummer to find an old woman of the Raven Clan waiting for him. He
immediately remembered Daron’s warning and approached her warily. “Hello?”

“Fair skies, Vatar,” the old woman answered. “I’m Draza.
I’ve come to let you know that your child is being born.”

Vatar drew in his breath sharply, an entirely different kind
of apprehension flooding him. “Oh.” After another deep breath he added. “Thank
you.” Swallowing down bile, Vatar followed Draza back to the Raven Clan huts.
Pa and Mother joined him as he stood waiting outside the women’s hut.

Avaza’s screams penetrated even the thick sod walls, making
Vatar flinch. He leaned his forehead against the wall, trying to concentrate
instead on the feel and smell of the grass. Sky above and earth below! It
sounded like she was being tortured. He could have been just a little more
patient with her on the journey from Caere.

The screams stopped abruptly, followed by a faint wail.
Vatar raised his head when the hide covering the door was pushed aside.

Draza stepped out and held a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle out
to Vatar. “His name is Zavar.”

Vatar accepted the bundle and looked down into his son’s
face. “It is a strong name,” he said against a sudden tightness in his throat.

Holding this precious new life, something opened in Vatar’s
heart. He knew suddenly that he would do anything to protect his son. That
nothing was more important to him. He looked down at Zavar in absolute wonder.
The baby opened his eyes and looked solemnly up at Vatar with storm-grey eyes.

At Vatar’s sharp intake of breath, Mother asked, “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. He has my eyes.”

Mother looked over his shoulder. “So he does. Babies’ eyes
often change, you know.”

Vatar shook his head. Fasallon-grey eyes would put his son
in danger in Caere. And according to Daron and Ariad, Maktaz had sunk low
enough to strike even at Ariad’s blameless sister. Vatar’s enemies must never
touch this vulnerable child. He must protect Zavar. That was his job, the most
important thing he would ever do.

Another scream split the moment of silent wonder. Vatar’s
head snapped up and he clutched the baby to his chest. “What—?”

Draza disappeared back into the women’s hut.

Zavar wailed and Vatar began to absently rock from side to
side as he’d seen Pa do with baby Fenar. “What’s going on? Why’d Avaza scream
like that again?” He looked down at Zavar, now quietly sleeping. “I thought
once he was born, it’d stop.”

Mother shook her head, a crease appearing between her eyes.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait for news.”

Vatar stared at his son, trying to shut out the renewed
screams. What could be happening? He was done with Avaza. She’d proved to be
shallow and selfish, but she didn’t deserve pain like that. Boreala had said
she likely wouldn’t have any trouble with the birth. So what had gone wrong?

When the screams stopped, he didn’t know whether to be
relieved or more frightened. What was that wail? Could Avaza have made that
sound?

He started as the hide door-covering was pushed aside again.
Draza came out with another blanket-wrapped bundle, which she held out to
Vatar. “You also have a daughter. Her name is Savara.”

Vatar froze, mouth hanging open. Twins? Mother took Zavar
from his nerveless fingers so that he could take the second baby.

Vatar was so stunned he nearly forgot to make the ritual
response, acknowledging the girl as his daughter. “It is a good name.” He
looked down into her sky-blue eyes. She was tiny and precious. Everything he
had felt for Zavar was somehow doubled. He wasn’t sure how his heart could hold
so much. “And Avaza?”

Draza smiled and her eyelid fluttered in something that
wasn’t quite a wink. “
Her
lungs are strong. She’s fine.”

Vatar looked back down at his daughter.

After a long moment, Draza cleared her throat. “I should
take them both back to their mother.”

Vatar nodded reluctantly. A cold fist closed around his
heart. “Yes. They need her more than they need me right now.” He handed little
Savara back to the old woman. And watched as Mother handed over Zavar.

There was no point in standing around here. With a heavy
sigh, Vatar turned to go. He stopped as the itch between his shoulder blades
warned him of some danger. Could something here threaten his babies? He scanned
the area and caught sight of Maktaz skulking between the huts, a very
unpleasant smirk on his face. A cold chill went down Vatar’s spine. He almost
turned back and demanded his children right then and there, but he knew that
even Maktaz couldn’t harm his children inside the women’s hut. He’d have to take
thought on how to protect them for the longer term, though.

~

Vatar sat outside the men’s hut, digging in the dirt with
the point of his knife. He’d never felt more torn in two. Not even in those
first frightening days in Caere as a new apprentice. Not even during the anger
and confusion of learning that Veleus was his father.

Pa and Arcas would be leaving for Caere to trade soon. Since
Avaza had chosen to sever their relationship, Vatar’d planned to go back and
learn more about making blades, but . . . how could he leave Zavar and Savara?
On the other hand, if he stayed, he’d still have to leave them when the clans
broke up and moved off to their autumn villages. He couldn’t go with the Raven
Clan. It’d be hard enough to ride over frequently to check on them. Impossible
once the clans shifted to their winter camps and the snows came. But Maktaz was
Raven Clan. Vatar couldn’t be with his children to protect them, but he was
coldly certain Maktaz would be up to something. What a tangle. How was he supposed
to unravel this knot?

He looked up when a shadow fell across him. “Hello, Mother.”

Mother hunkered down next to him. “You look like you need
someone to talk to.”

“I don’t see how you can help.”

Mother placed a hand on his arm. “Well, sometimes just talking
it out helps to make things clear. Why don’t you try that?”

Vatar shrugged. It certainly couldn’t hurt. “I don’t know
what to do. I don’t think Zavar and Savara will be safe with the Raven Clan
this winter. No. I
know
they won’t be. Not with Maktaz around. He’s
still looking for revenge for what happened to Torkaz. And he’s just low enough
to use them to get it.”

Mother sighed and nodded. “I believe you’re right about
that.”

“But I don’t see what I can do about it. They need to be
with Avaza right now. And she’s back with her own clan. The Raven Clan.
Maktaz’s clan. After all the fights we had, she wouldn’t come back to me even
if I asked. And I don’t want her back anyway. But I have to find some way to
protect our children.”

“Your children need both of you. And always will. You and
Avaza will have to find a way to make that work. But . . . perhaps not
this
winter. Not with feelings still so raw.” Mother was silent a moment. “Weren’t
you going back to Caere for more training this winter?”

Vatar shot to his feet. “I was. But how can I go and leave
my children in danger?”

Mother stood up, too, laying a hand on his arm again. “By
leaving your children in the care of those you can trust.
Your
clan.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Vatar, your children need Avaza right
now—and she needs them. But they are Lion Clan and you are their father.
You
have the right to say where they will spend the winter. The chiefs will back
you in this. Even the Raven Clan chiefs.” She shrugged. “Possibly with the
exception of Maktaz.”

“You mean . . . take them away from Avaza?”

Mother chewed her lip and nodded. “If you must. To keep them
safe. Better that than . . .”

Vatar sagged. “You’re right. But I hate to do that—to her
and to them.”

Mother shrugged. “Then don’t. At our invitation, nothing
prevents Avaza from wintering with our clan—and the twins—if she chooses. But
perhaps she would be more willing to do that if you were not with us.”

Vatar shook his head. “Go to Caere after all and leave
them?”

“Yes. Leave them with us. With your family. With your clan
brothers and sisters. And with their mother, if she’s willing. We can see that
they are out of Maktaz’s reach until you return. It won’t be easy for you.
Maybe harder for you than for her, but it may be the only way.”

Vatar drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “You’re
right.” He blew his breath out. “I’d better go talk to her.” He smiled wryly at
his mother. “Cover your ears. There’s going to be some screeching.”

He half turned back. “You’re going to have trouble with
Avaza this winter, you know. She’s difficult when she doesn’t get her own way.”

Mother smiled. “Well, if she gives me too much trouble, I’ll
just treat her exactly like I do Kiara when she gets stubborn.”

Vatar snorted. “That’d be about right.”
No, that’s
actually doing Kiara an injustice.
But he didn’t doubt Mother could handle
Avaza—better than he had.

After a brief search, Vatar found Avaza weeding the Raven
Clan’s vegetable patch alongside Draza. “Avaza, I need to talk to you.”

Avaza turned her back on him. “Well, I don’t want to talk to
you.”

Vatar’s lips thinned. “I don’t care. I need to talk to you
about Zavar and Savara.”

Draza took the weeder from Avaza’s hand and forcibly turned
her around to face Vatar. “Whatever your personal quarrel, your children come
first. And don’t try that pout on me, my girl. I’ve dealt with more silly,
sulky girls than you have years—or brains.”

Now for it.
“Avaza, I have to ask you to go with the
Lion Clan for the winter,” Vatar said in a rush.

Avaza simpered. “I have no intention of coming back to you,
Vatar.”

Vatar shook his head. He bit his lip to keep from saying the
first thing that came into his head. “Fine. I’m not asking you to. In fact, if
you agree, I’ll return to Caere for the winter. So long as I know the twins are
safe, we don’t have to be anywhere near each other.”

Avaza’s eyes snapped fire. “Still trying to control my life?
Well, this isn’t Caere. I want to spend the winter with my own clan. My babies
will be perfectly safe with me.”

Vatar took a step forward, hands down and palms out. “I
understand that you want to be with your own family, Avaza. I really do. But
you’re wrong. Our children will not be safe anywhere near Maktaz. He’ll hurt
them, if he can. Just because they’re mine. Because he blames me for his son’s
death. I can’t let that happen.”

Avaza tossed her ponytail behind her. “What will you do if I
refuse?”

Vatar drew a deep breath and looked up at the sky for a
moment. Then he lowered his eyes to look squarely into hers. “Then you’ll leave
me no choice. I’ll take them now.”

“No! Vatar, you can’t! They’re mine! They need me!”

Vatar nodded, but held his ground. “Yes, they need you.
They’ll always need you. You’re their mother. I don’t want to take them from
you—or you from them. But I am their father. It’s my job to keep them safe. And
I cannot leave them within Maktaz’s reach. I can’t, Avaza. I
will
do
what I must to keep them safe.”

Avaza was silent, mouth working, for a long moment. “It’s
not fair.”

Vatar closed his eyes. Nothing about this was fair. It was
just the way things were.

Draza took Avaza by the shoulders and gave her a little
shake. “That’s why it’s the woman’s responsibility to see to it that no
children come until the relationship is permanent. Because it hurts her worse
when it breaks down like this.” She gave Avaza another shake. “And it was you
who failed in that responsibility. It’s no good now trying to get out of paying
the price.”

Avaza knocked the older woman’s hands away. “Don’t you see
how he is? First he drags me all the way to Caere, where I’m cooped up all
winter. Now, I can’t even winter with my own clan!”

Draza shook her head. “You don’t see half of what’s in front
of you, girl. I think Vatar’s proposal is very sensible. I don’t trust Maktaz
within a stone’s throw of those babies either.”

Avaza stared at her, mouth hanging open.

Vatar took another step forward. “Please don’t make me do
this, Avaza.”

Avaza’s expression turned surly as she looked between them.
“I’ll winter with the Lion Clan.” Avaza bit off each word off like a curse. “As
long as you’re not there.”

Vatar let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank you.”

~

Draza brought Avaza and the babies to the Lion Clan women’s
hut a few days later. True to his word, Vatar kept his distance and waited for
Mother to bring his twins to him in the family’s hut in the mornings and
evenings. He looked across at his baby brother, Fenar, now toddling across the
hut on unsteady legs. It was amazing how much Fenar had changed in the months
he’d been gone. That was going to be Zavar and Savara by the next time he saw
them. How much was he going to miss?

On the morning he and Arcas were set to leave, Vatar held
each baby in turn, stroking their tiny faces with his callused hands. “They won’t
even remember me when I come back. Fenar didn’t.”

“We’ll keep them safe for you,” Pa said.

“I know you will or I couldn’t leave at all. I hate to leave
them, but I promised her I would go if she agreed to come with you. Right now,
they need her more than they need me.”

He kissed both babies a final time and left before he could
change his mind. It was as hard as losing Torkaz. It was harder than crossing
the waves to retrieve his torc.