The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing (20 page)

“I will feed you,” he said. “Yes?”

He clapped. A peccary trotted into the house. The
small, pig-like creature snorted cheerily at Turtleback, and lay on
its back before the hearth. Turtleback slit the peccary from the
neck to the belly. He butchered it neatly and put the meat on
sticks, which he roasted over the heat of the glowing frogs.
Surprisingly, this worked. The perfectly braised pork made her
mouth water, especially considering that she’d eaten nothing but
starchy roots for the last several days.

Turtleback piled up the meat and handed the platter
to Dindi. “Please share my meal.”

“Thank you,” said Dindi. She gazed longingly at the
roast pork. The savory aroma made her tummy growl. She held up one
of the unappetizing roots from the bag Umbral had slipped her. “But
I already have my evening-meal.”

Turtleback looked so disappointed she almost
relented. The meat smelled
so
good. One little bite…. She
forced a smile of apology and handed back the platter.

“If I’d known you weren’t going to eat any, I
wouldn’t have ruined it with heat,” Turtleback complained. “I hate
cooked meat.”

The hobgoblin moped a while, until a new idea
occurred to him.

“Let me give you a guest gift!” he exclaimed.

He jumped up and rummaged in his pots. He stood up
with a necklace of crusty green beads, which he let her touch. The
beads were harder than wood or bone, even harder than gold, but did
not seem to be ordinary stone.

“It will look lovely on you, human girl!”

Turtleback started to wrap the necklace around her
neck.

Dindi stopped him. “Thank you, but I already have a
necklace.”

She pulled out the corncob doll, which she always
wore on a leather string around her neck.

Turtleback fell back when he saw it. His eyes
bugged. “You wear
that
?”

“Have you seen this before?” Her breath caught in
her throat. “Do you know what it is?”

“I’ve seen it once before, when the Aelfae and
humans fought near here. It was an Aelfae thing at first, but then
the Deathsworn took it and twisted it. Now it is an evil thing.” He
glared at her. “The Deathsworn are the enemies of all fae! Are you
a Deathsworn?”

“No,” said Dindi. “I am a friend of the Aelfae. The
Deathsworn are my enemies too.”

Turtleback looked unconvinced. He sulked in the
corner of his house, as far from Dindi as he could scuttle. She had
the idea he regretted hosting her.

“Turtleback,” she said softly. “Are your people
going to ask me to dance with you?”

“We would have,” he said, “We have asked many humans
to join our circle, though they always fall asleep too soon. After
that, they never wake up to play with us anymore, and we have to
wait for new playmates. But I will not ask you unless you take off
that necklace.”

“What would you do if a Deathsworn
did
come
to your clanhold?” she asked.

The hobgoblin barred his teeth. Each one was
pointed, like a shark’s.

“Kill it,” he hissed.

Her heart beat faster. Excitement burned like fire
in her blood. Deliberately, she pulled her stone dagger and put it
to her arm. She grit her teeth, then, as fast as she could, sliced
a piece of skin and meat off her own arm.

It hurt like crazy. She choked down a sob, and
ground her teeth even harder, but forced herself to hand the bit of
flesh to Turtleback.

No hobgoblin could resist raw human flesh. He
gobbled it up at once.

Next, Dindi ripped the hem of her white blouse. She
tore the piece into two strips. One she used to bandage her cut
arm. The other she held in reserve until Turtleback finished
eating. Then she leaned forward and tied the white ribbon around
his forehead like a headband. His orange pointed ears poked
out.

He patted the ribbon in delight. “Human
clothing!”

“A gift for you,” Dindi said.

“That’s two gifts you’ve given me,” said
Turtleback.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed. I’m feeling a bit cramped
in here, I’m afraid. I think I would like to dance a little before
I go to bed.”

His eyes shone iridescent, like a predators. “That
will make three gifts. Why are you trying to put us in your debt,
human girl?”

Dindi smiled coyly. “Watch my dance and perhaps you
will guess.”

Every forest looked pretty much the same as every
other forest to Hadi, so it took him by surprise when Tamio asked
him one morning, as they broke camp to travel, “This must be a sad
day for you.”

Any day that involved walking from dawn to noon was
a sad day as far as Hadi was concerned, but he furrowed his
brow.

“Don’t you recognize this ridge? The fork in the
trail?”

“Of course! More or less. Not really.”

Tamio gestured toward Jensi and Paro. As usual, Paro
hovered near her without actually speaking to her, and she, in
turn, pretended not to notice him.

“Today those who are going back to the Corn Hills
part ways with those of us going to extract retribution,” said
Tamio.

Hadi looked over at Jensi, who, as if drawn by his
concern, looked up and met his eyes at just that moment. Deep
sadness shone from her face. She already knew.

I’ll never see her again
. He felt it in his
bones. He would die stupidly trying to kill sheep muckers. She
would probably have a dozen children who spent half the year as
wolves. He wasn’t sure which fate was worse.

The organization of the hobgoblin clanhold was
simple in the extreme. Two rows of raised sod ledges faced each
other, and with homes dug out in a line down each hillside. There
was a larger hill at the far end, also with a hole at the base. The
long corridor of packed earth in between the two rows was empty
except for milling hobgoblins, of whom there were perhaps seven
septs worth—forty-nine or fifty.

The rain had stopped, but the fog was still heavy.
In the distance, she saw the silhouette of a man in black half
shrouded by the mist.

Umbral.

The sun had set, but the hobgoblins were not asleep.
They cheered when Dindi followed Turtleback out into the center of
the clanhold.

“Hooray! She will dance with us!” cried Potfoot.

The hobgoblins formed a ring and began to skip and
tumble drum on bowls.

Turtleneck slobbered into the wrong end of his ram’s
horn. How any of them could hear the sound over the din, Dindi did
not know, but the hobgoblins paused.

“The human girl isn’t going to join our circle,” he
said in disgust.

“Well, she can’t flee,” Boothead told Turtleback.
“Not if she’s wearing the bloodgold necklace with our hex on
it!”

All the hobgoblins laughed.

“And she still owes us a dinner!” cried Potfoot.
More laughter.

Potfoot pinched Dindi. “Pity she’ll make such a
skinny peccary!”

Turtleneck bopped Potfoot on the head with his horn.
“We can’t eat her. She didn’t eat our food. She didn’t put on our
necklace. She gave me food. And she gave me a pretty headdress. And
now she says she’ll do her own dance for us.”

Boothead scratched his nose. “Well, that’s strange.
But it could be fun. Let’s see your dance, then, human!”

Dindi had not had time to put her warm outer
garments back on, so she wore only a thin layer of wool. The
lighter clothes did allow her more freedom of movement than the
feather parka.

She picked up a spoon and a pot, which she tapped
like a hand drum. When with hobgoblins, do as hobgoblins did.

“Hear my history, all you ears gathered here!” she
chanted. “Watch my colors weave, all you eyes!”

She leaped and kicked and tapped her pot of a drum.
“Once upon a time, there was a little white swan.”

She tucked at her feet and swept her arms out like
wings. She performed a series of side aerials and back handsprings,
ending in an arabesque standing with one foot on the pot. She
dipped into a handstand and popped back up tapping the pot
again.

“But alas! A hungry black wolf stalked and captured
the swan.”

She imitated the stalking crawl of a wolf.

Clang, clang, clang, on the pot. “’Wait!’ cried the
swan. ‘Why eat me alone, when you could eat me and my sister both!
Let me lead you to her and a doubly tasty meal you shall have!’
‘Very well,’ said the wolf, ‘You may lead me to your sister, but I
will only release your throat if you give me your word you will not
fly away.’ So the swan gave her word to the wolf. The swan did not
fly.”

She waddled to indicate the downed swan.

“The swan and wolf walked under a nest of eagles.
‘Ah if only those eagles would slay the wolf,’ thought the swan.
‘But I have given my word, so I cannot fly to tell them of my
plight, nor can they see the wolf, who is as black as night.’”

Potfoot nudged Boothead. “Are you thinking what I’m
thinking?”

“Yeah,” grunted Boothead. “This isn’t much of a
dance. There’s too little magic and too much talking!”

It was true that Dindi was trying hard to hold in
the flow of her Chromas. She had given Umbral her word she would
not use her magic. Also she did not want to alert him, though she
might have failed at that.

He was walking toward the clanhold.

Dindi spun around again.
Clang, clang, clang
,
on the pot. “The swan wept for the eagles did not understand her
silent cry. She had no voice to scream,
’If only those foolish
eagles would realize the wolf is WALKING RIGHT TOWARDS THEIR
NEST!
”

She landed in another pose, this time pointing right
at Umbral.

“Don’t you get it?” shouted Turtleback. “Can’t you
feel the Shadow? There is a Deathsworn coming right at us!”

All
pandemonium broke loose as fifty hobgoblins roared and raised
spears and axes that appeared from nowhere. As one mob, they rushed
to attack Umbral.

Umbral had suspected someone was following him for
some time. Ash and the other Deathsworn of his sept were trailing
behind him by a few days, but this was someone else. A hunter.

No physical sign gave away the second stalker, but
Umbral caught a whiff of magic on an eddy of wind. He recognized
the thread of brilliant green magic.

Finnadro the Wolf Hunter.

Annoyingly still alive, for which Umbral had no one
to blame but himself.

Whom was Finnadro hunting? Dindi? Did Finnadro know
who she was? Had the Green Lady sent him after Dindi? But Finnadro
had seemed ignorant of Dindi’s identity when she lived in his
tribehold beneath his nose. Perhaps he hunted the White Lady. Or
was Finnadro’s motivation more personal?

He’s seen my real face
.

He’s hunting
me
.

That thought made Umbral’s muscles tighten with the
urge to punch the bastard. He cursed to himself for a full minute
before he found an elegant solution. It would take care of two
unwanted interlopers at once.

He knew Ash would catch up with him tonight, so
while the hobgoblins entertained Dindi, Umbral retraced the trail
back across the peat. He saw Ash and the other Deathsworn, still
climbing the hill he and the girl had ascended earlier in the
day.

“Umbral!” Ash laughed when she saw him alone.
“Finally tire of your bed puppet and cut her strings?”

“Of course not,” he said. “She’s waiting for
me.”

“Oh, you tied her up.”

“There was no need. She gave me her word she would
not leave.”

“And you trusted her, you fool?”

“Let me worry about the girl. I have a task I need
you to do.”

He explained and as he expected, Ash began to curse
and complain. “Finnadro! He shouldn’t even be alive! He should be
wrapped in his own intestines, wearing his lungs as a hat!”

“And yet, sadly, he missed that fashion tip. Here.
This is for his dogs.”

Umbral handed her a rag. She looked at it
dubiously.

“Rub it around, on the ground, against brambles and
branches. It’s got our scent. The dogs will pick up your scent too,
but that can’t be helped, and probably doesn’t matter, as long as
they think I’m there, and the girl too. Take this too.” He handed
her a few hairs. Dindi had lost them on his raven cloak, which he
gave to her to sleep on at night, and he had saved them. “If
Finnadro knows I have the girl, and knowing Finnadro, I’m sure he
does, he’ll notice those. Don’t be clumsy. I don’t want him to
suspect a trap.”

“What if he misses the hairs?” Ash asked
dubiously.

“He won’t. He may be an arrow in the ass, but he’s
sharp.”

“Ha. You’re funny. I’m laughing—inside. Bashing his
head was obviously not good enough. Next time, separate his head
from his body, that’s a surefire way to discourage further
meddling—”

“Ash,” he said, “Just create the false trail. As for
killing him… I presume I can trust you.”

She smiled too sweetly. “I won’t disappoint you,
Umbral.”

Ash trotted back the way she came. One troublemaker
gone, and hopefully she would lead Finnadro away from his trail.
Two troublemakers gone.

Pleased with his own cleverness, Umbral returned to
the edge of the hobgoblin ‘clanhold.’ It wasn’t really their
clanhold, of course. If he did not miss his mark, the original peat
houses had been dug by Aelfae. The Aelfae had probably been
slaughtered by humans and the settlement had been abandoned. The
hobgoblins played there when it suited them.

The drizzle stopped and the night air smelled clear
and clean. Umbral took a deep breath and enjoyed the quiet moment.
For once he did not have worry about draining Dindi, so he allowed
his Penumbra to seep energy from the bog, the sky, the mist, the
night.

Clang, clang, clang.

Shouting and banging drew his attention back to the
hobgoblin clanhold. The hobgoblins made quite a ruckus with their
dancing, but they were fae. That was expected. He assumed Dindi had
better sense than to join them in their circle and dance herself to
death.