Her Secret Soulname is Tam
She is the leader of an elfin tribe known as the Wolfriders...
Swift urged her wolf faster through the woods as the small party of Wolfriders hurried back to the Holt. In her arms lay the redhaired hunter, bruised and bleeding, his back lacerated by a leather whip, his handsome face a mask of pain.
As the party crested a hill, Swift tugged lightly on the ruff at Nightrunner’s neck, and the massive wolf came to a halt. Around her, the other elves brought their mounts to a stop: Strongbow, the silent archer, astride his mount Briersting, and Pike, his spear stained with human blood. As One-Eye and Treestump patrolled the perimeter of their small hill, Pike’s nephew Skywise drew up along Swift’s other side. “How bad is he?”
“I... don’t know,” Swift looked down at Redlance, her second cousin, Blood of Chiefs in his own right. The memory flashed before her eyes; had she reached Redlance and the Pillar of Sacrifice but a second later, Redlance would be dead, felled by the human’s stone knife. Now the human lay dead instead, and the Tall Ones would surely seek revenge.
“Ride on,” she commanded her friend. “Tell Nightfall we bring her lifemate back... somewhat less than whole. Find your grandfather Rain. Tell him to be ready.”
Skywise nodded, then nudged Starjumper into a run through the trees. Within minutes of leaving the hunting party behind, the astronomer broke through the hidden glades guarding the Holt. The humans hunted for its location every day, but their knowledge of the forest ways had kept the Wolfriders safe for over forty years, since the Children of Gotara had returned to the woods.
“Nightfall!” Skywise cried as he approached the great Father Tree Holt: a gnarled behemoth of an oak shaped from several trees, magically fused together by Swift’s great-grandmother. Wolves of all colours lounged on the ground around the base of Father Tree. At the side of the brook, Skywise’s aunt Rainsong and her little daughter Newstar sat looking for fish. At Skywise’s call, Nightfall descended from Father Tree, her amber eyes filled with dread.
“Skywise!” she hurried down the steps; her honey-brown curls bounced under her green headscarf. “What’s happened?”
“Redlance... was captured... by humans,” Skywise forced the words out, and felt a stab to his heart as Nightfall’s eyes filled with tears. In the past “captured by humans” had meant only one thing.
“Redlance!” she cried as she saw Swift approach astride Nightrunner, the elf lifeless in her arms. “Oh no!”
“He lives, Nightfall,” Swift managed a weary grin of relief as Nightfall raced to embrace her stricken lifemate. “Luck was with us – this time. Where is Rain?”
“I’m here.” The healer jogged up alongside them. “Give him to me.” Gently he lifted Redlance out of Swift’s arms, and began to carry him up to his little den inside the labyrinthine passages of Father Tree Holt. His mate Moonsbreath, the quiet daughter of elders Clearbrook and One-Eye, watched from the shadows, her eyes filled with worry. Too many times before she had watched her lifemate the healer battle death, too many times he had lost the fight. They were only twenty-two elves. The humans bred like fleas.
“Swift!” A young elf who bore more than a passing resemblance to Strongbow appeared out of the Holt doorway. “Redlance?” He winced as he saw Rain hurry back into the tree. “Is he... how bad is it?”
**Bad,** Strongbow sent angrily. **The fool ran off on his own, chasing a deer through the brush. The humans tore him away from us before we knew he had left the hunt. By the time we tracked them back to their filthy camp they had nearly sacrificed him to their “Gotara.”**
“Grayling,” Swift greeted her half-brother with a quick hug. A hundred years her senior, the only other living child of Bearclaw, Grayling had been one of her staunchest supporters during the uneasy first years of her reign as chief. Grayling now moved to stand next to the silent archer, and Swift marvelled how alike they were, Grayling the softer mirror image of his elder half-brother. The elders said Strongbow was once much like Grayling, with a soft heart-shaped face and loose unbound hair. Two Recognitions, and four hundred years of struggling to survive had turned Strongbow’s face to keen angles, and robbed him of his gentler side. But Grayling, son of Bearclaw and Trueflight, still maintained a thoughtfulness, a quiet way about him, that belied his savage ancestry.
“I wish I had joined you tonight...” Grayling fretted. “Maybe I would have been able to help–”
**By getting yourself captured too?** Strongbow sneered. **You know you have no place in the hunt. You are better served gathering with Woodlock and Shale.**
Strongbow held his younger brother to impossibly high standards, claiming he owed his parentage nothing less. Swift thought sometimes that Strongbow envied Grayling; it was no secret that Strongbow had loved Bearclaw as a father – doubtlessly he more than once wished he had been the son of Bearclaw.
Of course, in Strongbow’s eyes both Grayling and Swift were disappointments as Bearclaw’s children: Grayling for not insisting on his right as Blood of Chiefs; Swift for being the daughter of Joyleaf, the traitor who turned her back on the Way.
Strongbow stalked away, probably off to join his lifemate, Moonshade, where they would no doubt whisper between themselves and attempt to place blame for the night’s near-tragedy. Swift wondered what they might say about her. Feeling guilty, and frustrated, she turned and took the steps into Father Tree two at a time.
She found Redlance stretched out a his bed, Nightfall at his side, holding his hand tightly. Rain was just straightening, his eyes clouded with exhaustion. “He broke some ribs, which injured his lung” the healer sighed. “And he is still weak. But he will be as good as new within another moon-dance.”
“You should have seen him, Swift,” Redlance whispered. “The finest, fattest buck in all the woods. I almost got him...” his eyes hazed over, and Nightfall placed her hand on his shoulder anxiously.
“I don’t care how sweet the game is near the humans’ camp,” Swift growled, directing all her doubt and self-blame straight at the redhaired Wolfrider. “You know that hunting alone is forbidden!” The names of those who had strayed from the Holt had paid for it dearly nearly spilled forth, but she held her tongue. Redlance remembered all too well. He had been there when Woodhue had been blinded, becoming One-Eye. He had been there when Crescent had been wrenched from the stream and butchered by human hunters. He had been there when Eyes High had narrowly missed capture by young trickster warriors.
“Why did you disobey me?” Swift insisted, still furious. Eyes High and Shale could have been murdered, and Skywise killed before he was born, had her mother Joyleaf not been so strict with the Wolfriders. Swift would not have anyone of her tribe die because of her own misplaced leniency.
“Forgive me, my chieftess,” Redlance whispered, and Swift felt her heart melting. “In the heat of the chase... I forgot...”
Swift smiled. She loved Redlance almost as dearly as Nightfall, and could not find it in her to be angry with him. “Well, don’t forget again,” she told him. “Your carelessness almost cost me my best tracker – you.” She touched his shoulder. “Now rest. That buck will still be around later.”
She left Redlance in his bed and began down the steps. Nightfall followed her slowly. “Swift,” she called miserably. “Why must the humans hate us so? We offer them no harm.”
“Humans have always hated our kind,” Swift sighed bitterly. “That’s just the way it is.”
Nightfall hugged her arms. “I wish we could live in a place where there are no humans.”
“I know,” Swift nodded. “But... this is home,” she swept her arms out. “Beyond the woods, what is there?”
“See, Swift?” Skywise pointed up to the brilliant stars. “The Great Wolf chases the Human Hunter across the sky. He’s clumsy, that hunter. One day he’ll trip, and the Wolf will get him.”
“You see all that up there, Skywise?” Swift asked wistfully. “You truly are the High Ones’ own child.” She picked a shoot of wild grass and chewed on it thoughtfully.
“What’s the matter?” her brother-in-all-but-blood asked softly.
Swift remembered the fire, the cries, the scream of agony as she sank New Moon into the human hunter’s throat a split second before he would have murdered Redlance. “I... never killed a human before,” she confessed. “Didn’t think it could be done. The humans will want revenge. Something bad will happen soon... I feel it.”
“Hah,” Skywise laughed. “You’re full of dreamberries. What can the humans do to us? They’re afraid to come near our Holt.”
“Shhh!” Swift hissed as the mournful howling reached them. “Listen.”
“The wolves,” Skywise exclaimed. “Something’s wrong. Starjumper. Starjumper!” he raced down the hill to meet his silver wolf-friend. “What is it?”
“Ayooah, Nightrunner!” Swift leapt up to seize his massive paws as the wolf reared up on his hind legs. “Speak my friend,” she begged as the wolf snarled and growled. “What have you seen?”
**Humans...** the twisted wolfsending burned the word/thought/image into her mind. **They bring fire!**
Swift cried out in horror.
She summoned every male Wolfrider, save for Woodlock, tending his two young children, and Redlance, still recovering, and gathered them in a line streaming out astride their wolves. They were still only halfway to the human camp when they saw the glimmering firelight of the human hunters.
“What are they doing?” Pike whispered to his brother Shale.
“They wouldn’t dare,” Grayling growled under his breath.
“So, it’s finally come to this, has it?” Treestump declared, as they stared at the line of humans, each armed with a blazing torch.
The wolves hesitated at the edge of the clear, driven back by the fire. But Swift urged her snarling mount forward. “I warned you, old man,” she raged, her eyes pinned on the old shaman. “Go away, or we must kill you!”
“No, demon bitch,” the shaman laughed. “We shall live, but you and your kind will be ashes before sunrise!”
“Are you mad, human?” her scream of horror echoed across the clearing. “If you burn the woods, everyone will die – your tribe as well as mine!”
“No matter!” the shaman thrust his torch into the brush. “Gotara wills a cleansing! Only man must rule this land. All demons must burn. Gotara wills it! Gotaraaaaa–” he screamed as Strongbow’s arrow pierced his throat, silencing his rhetoric. But the damage was done. Even as Strongbow readied another arrow, the others thrust their flaming brands into the bushes surrounding the clearing. Grayling took down another human with his bow, and Pike hurled his spear at a fleeing hunter. But the flames were spreading, rising to the treetops, threatening to become a deadly crown fire.
“Madmen!” Skywise drew his sword. “They’ll pay for this with their cursed blood!”
“No time,” Swift spurred Nightrunner about. “The fire is spreading. We must get back to the Holt!”
“Come, Father,” Skywise turned to a petrified Shale, who stared at the spreading fire, his eyes overflowing with tears. “Mother needs us,” he urged.
“Bring only what food and water you can easily carry,” Swift shouted over the roar of the flames. “Save your lives. Forget the rest!” That said she darted back into her room and seized up her bundle of provisions. A glint of metal caught her eye, and after a moment’s hesitation she grabbed the silver necklace and shoved it in her bag.
Strongbow tossed his son Dart down from the upper storeys of the Holt. Moonshade caught the six-year-old and set him astride her wolf Shyhider. Woodlock kept a hand on his daughter Newstar as Rainsong struggled to carry her infant Wing and run from the encroaching blaze. Scouter held his lovemate Dewshine close, while the brothers Pike and Shale tied their bundles of food and water tight.
“Our way to the lake is blocked by the flames!” Eyes High cried out as she leapt astride her wolf.
“Where can we run?” her son demanded.
“There is only one half-safe place for us now,” Swift decided as she mounted Nightrunner’s back. “Follow me, Wolfriders!” she waved New Moon in the air. “To the Cavern of the Trolls!”
“Hurry,” Eyes High urged. “The flames are getting closer!”
The trolls had tricked them.
Swift sat in the open sun, waiting impatiently for her turn under the two meagre shades the Wolfriders had erected from their leather cloaks. Now Nightfall, Redlance, Woodlock and Rainsong, and the three cubs sat under one shade, while One-Eye and Clearbrook shared the second, smaller tent. The other Wolfriders sat on the sands, sweating profusely, enduring the heat as best they could.
Swift wiped at the sticky moisture weeping from her skin, then ran a hand through her sweat-drenched blond locks. At her side Skywise removed his silver-blue face-guard and shook out his own star-white hair. In the distance they heard Dewshine retching again, her entire body rebelling from dehydration.
Why had she trusted Greymung? Swift accused herself once more. Why had she let herself believe in the Tunnel of Golden Light, in the forest that the trolls said lay on the other side? Instead of a forest, Picknose had led the twenty-two Wolfriders into a Burning Waste. There was nothing but sand and open sky and merciless sun as far as the eye could see. Strongbow, Treestump, and Grayling scavenged for food, and had found only one small lizard, enough to feed Dart, Newstar and Rainsong. Rainsong continued to nurse her little son Wing, but Swift knew neither mother nor cub would last much longer. The wolves were exhausted, mortally dehydrated. They would not last more than another day in the heat.
“Break camp,” she shouted at twilight. “It’s time to move on.”
Move on where?”
“Tonight’s the true test, Skywise,” she sighed to her friend as she held out a meagre handful of water for Nightrunner to drink. “The heat has drained us all, and we’ve not enough water left to make one full skin.”
“Don’t worry,” Skywise insisted. “The lodestone will guide us.”
The lodestone, Skywise’s little teardrop-shaped stone, broken from the heavy ball of rock Greymung used so arrogantly as a footstool. Still Swift marvelled at its magic. No matter how they might spin it, it always pointed the same direction, running a line from the Great Star Wheel to the unknown lands at the opposite end of the sky. The rock clung to metal like a living thing, and seemed to show a special love of the astronomer. Skywise had braided a cord from the hairs of all twenty-two elves the night before, and had carved a little eye-symbol into the rock to better tell their direction. Swift hoped his carving had released some interested magic that might guide them safely to their destination, wherever that might be.
“We’ve come a long way already, and we’re holding up pretty well – considering.”
**But where are we going, Fahr?** Swift asked in an intimate sending.
They rode in silence throughout the night. Swift cast a glance back at Redlance every few hundred paces. He still gripped his side painfully, and Rain was twice forced to dismount and heal his injuries; the hard riding was opening up the wounds inside him. Swift thought back to Madcoil, to the claw that had narrowly missed killing the healer. Once again she thanked the High Ones for giving her the prescience to pull Rain out of the way a split-second in time. Without their healer Redlance would surely be dead by now.
“By the wandering stars!” Skywise cried out. “Am I imagining things? Scouter, get your hawk’s eyes up here!’
“Mountains,” cried Scouter, as he focussed his brown eyes on the tiny ripple at the horizon line. “Mountains!”
“Praise the High Ones,” Eyes High drew her wolf up alongside Swift’s. “Soon we will see trees again.”
“Don’t be hasty, cousin,” Swift replied to Treestump’s eldest daughter. “Listen, all of you,” she raised her voice. “We’ve sighted a range of mountains – but they’re still a long way off. We’ve got to make our water last as long as possible.” But you’ll reach the mountains alive, she vowed silently. Even if it’s my blood you must drink.
“The mountains are beautiful in this light,” Skywise sighed as they perched on a rocky pinnacle. Evening was at last sweeping over the Burning Waste, and the Wolfriders were again breaking camp. Hope, and the sight of the mountains, were all that had kept them alive through the second torturous day.
Swift dropped from the rock and limped over the stricken elf. “Redlance,” Swift bent down, peering hesitantly into his exhausted face. “It’s time to go.”
“I’m so tired, Swift,” Redlance sighed.
“You can make it, grandson-of-a-treeshaper,” Rain encouraged. “Here, stand for me, and I will see what I can do to ease the pain.” Obligingly Redlance got to his feet, Nightfall supporting him, and Rain set again to healing the chafing injuries.
**Thank you,** Swift sent to the healer, her heart overflowing with gratitude for his magic.
“You will keep pace with us, Redlance,” Rain said determinedly. “I’ve lost too many elves in my life to lose another now.”
“Forgive me,” Swift begged Redlance. “If I had killed that shaman when I had the chance none of this would have happened, and you would be resting even now in your den.”
“We are hunters, Swift, not murderers,” Redlance took his young chief’s hand. “It was your mother’s wish that we never again fall on the path of death and hatred your sire tried to lead us down. I don’t want that to change, no matter what happens.”
“Don’t talk like that. Rain is here to keep us all strong. We will survive.” Seized by a sudden strength, she spun around and raised her fist into the air. “Ayoooah Wolfriders! We face the final trial! When next we rest it will be in the foothills at Sorrow’s End!”
Shyhider died in the early morning, collapsing under the weight of Moonshade and little Dart. With a heavy heart, Strongbow lifted his semi-conscious lifemate and set her atop Briersting. For a moment, no longer, they silently considered gleaning some meat and moisture off the old wolf’s bones. But a pack did not feed off itself, and they continued in silence. Several hours later Woodlock’s wolf dropped dead, and Rainsong fainted, falling off the back of her Silvergrace. Soon she and Newstar had to be strapped to Silvergrace’s back, as Redlance had to be bound to his young Firecoat. But Swift had spoken true. By noon they had reached the mountains. Strange prickly shrubs and plants spoke of water hiding under the ground. The rocks offered sweet shade.
“Ow!” Swift struck her hand on the side of one of the strange prickle-plants. With a vulgar oath she swung New Moon out and sliced off the top, only to find her sword now dripped with moisture.
“Ha ha!” Pike laughed moments later as he squeezed sticky water into the waiting mouth of his rejoicing wolf Hotburr. “Leave it to Swift to find us plants that store their own water!”
“Drink up, little one.” Rainsong held a handful up to Newstar’s lips.
But Swift was not satisfied. With a reluctant Skywise in tow they began to scale the rocks, looking for more water, cooler shade. “The juice from the sticker plants is not enough for us,” Swift insisted as she climbed ahead.
“I suppose you won’t collapse until you’ve found us a blasted waterfall – hssst!” Skywise fell back, examining his badly burned forearm. If we must stay here awhile, I’ll have Moonshade make me a shirt with sleeves and a hood, he thought to himself. But this land is like a bad dreamberry vision. How can any creature bigger than a lizard survive here?
**Skywise, up here, quickly!** A frantic sending from Swift reached him, and Skywise climbed after her with sudden haste.
“What is it? What – mrph!” he mumbled as she slapped a hand over his mouth.
**Shh. Look.** Her sending with laced with combined suspicion and joyous disbelief. **Look at them.**
**Elves! Elves!** Skywise sent excitedly. **I can’t believe it! Look at them! Who could’ve known? Elves! Just like us!**
Swift frowned as she gazed down at the strange dark-skinned elves walking through their oasis of huts and gardens. **No, not “like us,” Skywise. They seem more like humans to me! They have no wolves, no tree-houses, and they live in the sun as men do.**
**Pike’s never told of elves like these,** the stargazer agreed. **Never in all the howls have we heard of others.** He could not keep the hope from his sending. **You don’t think they’d help us if we asked?**
Swift was silent a long moment. Had only three days passed since the Holt burned down around them? The Now of Wolf-thought had never seemed more of a curse to her, as it had robbed her memories of permanency. How hard it seemed now to summon images of the Holt, of the peaceful times long gone. The sun still burned at her brain. Were these elves their salvation, or would they drive the Wolfriders back into the desert with fire and spearpoints? Would they view the intruders as demons, just as the humans had? Would Swift and her tribefolk be slain as they offered friendship, just as the first High Ones had been?
She thought of her tribefolk below. From her uncle Treestump and their healer Rain, over six hundred turns old, to little Wing, who was born not three moon-dances before, the tribe depended on her. They were her charge; she would not fail them.
**We’re not going to ask,** she decided at length. **I learned a hard lesson from the trolls. From now on the Wolfriders take what they need, and no reasons given!**
“Please Rayek,” the auburn-haired maiden giggled. “You’ll make me spill the water!”
The handsome hunter’s grip on her arm tightened. “How long will you torment me, Leetah? I have asked you the be my lifemate! Any maiden here would say yes!”
Leetah shifted her water-jug, thrusting her breasts again the soft red leather of her bodice in another coquettish posture designed to further frustate him. “Then why pursue me, my arrogant one?”
“Because you are the only one worth having!” he insisted, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Oh!” Leetah laughed. “You’re holding me too tight.” She tipped her head back and gazed up into his golden eyes. “Let me catch my breath – and I’ll give you an answer.”
Rayek hesitated, knowing well the rhythm of this game. Still, there was a hint of earnestness in her voice, a certain sparkle in her green eyes that made him wonder if perhaps she might have a real answer for him at last. Slowly his grip loosened.“Very well, I release you.”
Instantly Leetah tore away, running down the path. Anger rose in Rayek as he saw she had tricked him once more. Maddening laughter was his only reward as Leetah raced away, kicking up her fringed skirt as she hurried back to her hut.
Howls echoed off the mountain peaks, and Leetah skidded to a halt. Rayek looked up to the hills to see phantom figures streaming down into the village. Creatures, shaped like elves but pale like childsteeth and riding huge furred beasts, tore through the paths of Sorrow’s End, bearing down on both healer and hunter. Everything seemed to happen at once. One elf-thing swept out his spear, snatching up a basket of fruit. Another skewered a loaf of bread out of the hands of a terrified woman. And the leader of the raiders – a savage girl with a long mane of blonde hair and a curved short-sword – was bearing down on the healer.
Rayek rushed in front of Leetah, raising his spear threateningly as the wolf reared up before him. But the invader, instead of demurring as any other maiden would, swung out her sword-arm, hacking the spear-shaft in two. “Never point a weapon, black-hair, unless you know how to use it!” she pronounced, kicking him in the jaw, sending him crashing to the ground.
Swift wheeled Nightrunner around, staring down at the elf before her. The maiden stood rigid, fear and wonder playing across her exquisite features. “Wh-what do you want?” she managed to stammer.
Swift kicked her hard in the midsection as her hand caught up the jug of water. Leetah fell to the ground with a cry. “Leetah!” Rayek cried in outrage, and before he could reason otherwise, he threw himself on the alien woman, tackling her off her wolf and forcing her to the ground.
The water-jug smashed. Swift went over on her back, Rayek straddling her body. She forced herself up and rolled him under her, slamming his head hard against the sandy soil.
Something happened as she stared deep into his leonine eyes. Though driven by savage hunger and half-mad with thirst, Swift was brought up short. She seemed to drown in the stranger’s eyes. She could feel her soul welling up within her, pouring forth, as it had during her quest for her soulname. All she was spilled out of her eyes, flowing into the dark hunter.
To Rayek it seemed like a blinding sandstorm, as every feature, every nuance of the barbarian elf’s soul assaulted him. He was caught in a vicious wind, his own soul tossed about as if he were nothing more than a piece of fluff batted by jackals. His carefully honed hunter’s skills could not defend himself against this wolf-girl. All control was lost and he was helpless to keep his soul guarded. Deep inside himself he knew he would never be the same. He could only stare up into the maiden’s deep blue eyes.
Rayek had never sent before, but now the thought burst out of him. **YOU!** his mind cried out.
“Swift!” someone called, and the moment was broken. Swift leapt up and in one bound was astride Nightrunner.
“Ayooah!” she howled. “To the hills, Wolfriders!” Within moments the invaders were gone, leaving the shaken elves of Sorrow’s End in their wake.
“Rayek...” Leetah moaned, only now getting to her feet.
“Someone tell me what has happened!” cried the elder Sun-Toucher, emerging from his hut. “I heard strange voices, shouting!”
“Barbarians, Sun-Toucher!” Rayek growled. “Riding huge fanged beasts! They’ve taken food and water, and they attacked Leetah!”
“My daughter!” Sun-Toucher cried helplessly.
“I’m here, Father!” Leetah ran into his arms, eager for comfort from her ordeal. She looked to Rayek for further support, but he was still watching the wolves retreat into the hills, seething and shaken. That... she-beast had attacked his lovemate, and humilated him in the bargain. Whatever had happened between them meant nothing. Creatures as vicious as any jackals had descended on his village, and he would have his vengeance.
* * *
Perched on the hills high above the village, Strongbow and Treestump lay on their stomachs, watching the villagers slowly climb towards them. Already several had fallen off as the streneuous climb began to wear them down. “Follow me, you laggards!” Rayek snarled. “Follow for Sun-Toucher’s sake, for Leetah’s sake! Shall we let our magic-users be abused by barbarians?”
**Hmph,** Strongbow sent. **They’re a pretty soft lot. I doubt most of ‘em will make it up this far.**
**Don’t much like the look in the first one’s eye,** Treestump argued. **Maybe you’d better pick him off.**
**NO!!** Swift’s sending rang in their ears, and they marvelled at the force of it. **No killing! Not if we can help it! And not that one, no matter what happens! He’s mine to challenge.**
**What happened back there?** Skywise asked, curious at his chief-friend’s unusually shaken composure.
**Nothing,** Swift silenced him. **I’ll explain later.**
Skywise looked over at his father Shale, but the healer’s son could only shrug.
“Come on, you weaklings!” Rayek bellowed. “Climb!”
“You are the mountain lion among us, Rayek,” the villager panted. “We can’t keep up.”
“Then go back to your gardens, dirt diggers,” he sneered contemptuously. “You are no use to me. I’ll avenge our village’s honour myself!”
**My, my,** Treestump chuckled. **He’s a persistent one, I’ll give him that.**
**How will we get back to the lifebearers and the children?** Rain asked. Swift knew he was thinking of his daughter Rainsong and his grandchildren. And of Redlance, still struggling to recover from his injuries at the human’s hands.
“Eh, Swift,” Skywise spoke.
**Send!** she snapped.
“No need now. I think we’re going to have a visitor.”
Rayek crested the hill, a fresh spear in hand. “Where are you, barbarians?” He looked around the rocks in vain, until out of nowhere their leader appeared, gnawing on a hunk of bread. Rayek raged inwardly that he had not heard her approach.
“Calm down, black-hair,” Swift smirked as she inspected her stolen bread.
“Surrender, land-rat, or I swear –”
“No... I don’t think so.” A spearpoint tapped him on the shoulder. Rayek spun around and found himself surrounded by elves. A youth with a ginger puff of hair and a stone-tipped spear sat perched on the rock above him, while from all sides the barbarians approached. “Jackal!” Rayek swore at Swift. He spat on the ground in disgust. “Leader of jackals!”
“I said calm down,” Swift drawled. “You’re not impressing anyone.”
“Let’s have the pig poker, long face,” Pike laughed, moving to take the spear out of Rayek’s hand.
“You dare?” Rayek spun on him, and Pike suddenly stiffened, his blue-violet eyes staring ahead blankly. Instantly the Wolfriders pounced on Rayek, shoving him to the ground.
“Whoa, this one can do more than send!” Swift snapped.
“Pin him down, cover his eyes!” Treestump bellowed.
“He may have other tricks!” Strongbow growled.
“Pike?” Skywise asked uncertainly.
“Pike, wake up, son!” Rain waved his hand before Pike’s eyes.
“Wait! Wait, don’t hurt him!” Swift snapped as she saw the Wolfriders wrestle the hunter down with increasing violence. “Hurt him and you'll answer to me!” she barked, surprising herself at the anger behind her command.
Scouter was already tying Rayek’s headband over his eyes, while One-Eye and Treestump held his flailing legs. “Take your filthy hands off me, you wild dogs!” Rayek raged. “By the lost dwelling of the High Ones, you’ll pay for this!”
“Eh, what’s that now?” Treestump jumped back in surprise.
“What do you know of the High Ones?” One-Eye asked.
“Speak!” Swift demanded. “You dare profane our ancient mothers?”
“Swift,” Rain said softly. “I think... I am sure he is an elf, like us. Perhaps we are all of one race?”
“I claim no kinship with you vermin!” Rayek shouted, jabbing his finger at Swift. He held her eyes a moment, then looked away, masking a sudden uncertainty with anger and disgust. These jackal-spawn could not be kin to him. And yet why did the fair-haired chieftess seem so familiar, as if part of a dream he had long ago forgotten? A long tense silence passed. Finally Rayek raised his eyes again. “Who are you, pale ones?” he demanded with as much authority as he could muster.
“We are Wolfriders from the faraway woodlands,” Swift replied, more softly now. “For three days we have journeyed through the Burning Waste.”
“You lie!” Rayek sprang to his feet, glad to have a new excuse for indignation. “No one can cross the desert and live!”
“Desert, eh?” Skywise raised an eyebrow. “So that’s what you call it! If it can’t be crossed, how did your people get here, black-hair?”
“Enough!” Rayek slashed his hand through the air. “There are too many questions to be answered now. Come down to the village – unless you are too fearful. Leetah’s father, the Sun-Toucher, will know if you are telling the truth. If you are, we will give you what help we can. If you are not....” He glared at Swift.
“Lead on.” Swift smiled tightly. “Rain, One-Eye, send to your mates. We will all meet in the village.”
“His wounds were deliberately inflicted,” Leetah growled to her counterpart from the Wolfriders. She shivered as she recalled inspecting Redlance’s healing wounds. “Who could have done such a thing?”
“Humans,” Rain sighed sadly. “The same ones who tried to destroy us with fire.”
Leetah bit her lip as she stared out from inside the shade of her hut. The Wolfriders were gathered in the center of the village as, slowly but surely, the Sun Folk were coming out to greet them with hesitant smiles. Leetah would not be joining them for some time. The memory of her humilation was too fresh in her memory.
“We would all have died if not for Swift,” Rain spoke again.
“She acts like no maiden I have ever seen before,” Leetah wrinkled her nose. “More like a wild animal than an elf.”
Rain offered her a slight smile. “We thought you were like humans when we first saw your village. But your father has opened his arms to us, and we thank him.”
“Savah will want to see you soon, I’m sure,” Leetah said cryptically. “You are their healer? Your powers are not so great as mine,” she judged swiftly. “Your people have forgotten what it means to be elves.”
Rain did not rise to the jab.
“Rayek will not welcome your people,” she went on. “And the Sun Folk heed his word. You had all better leave as soon as you are strong.”
“Is it Rayek who wants us to leave, or you?” he blinked. “I’m sure Swift is sorry for hurting you as she did.”
Leetah was silent. She knew with her healer’s senses that the Wolfrider chieftess represented a far greater threat to her security than a kick in the stomach. She searched for Rayek among the villagers and was relieved to see he was not among those greeting Swift. Perhaps he did not yet realize what she did.
Skywise slowly turned, taking in the surroundings. There were mountains in the old forest, to be sure, but not cliffs like these, rising out of nowhere to touch the sky. There were no foothills, no mountain forests, only labyrinths of rocks. His eyes fell on the two largest peaks. A thin line of rock connected the two jagged pinnacles. It was a bridge, he realized with a thrill.
“Hey, sour face,” he looked up at Rayek, sitting on a cluster of rock and glaring down at the Wolfriders. “What do you call those peaks there?” he pointed south.
“The Bridge of Destiny,” Rayek replied in a disinterested monotone. “You will learn more about that later,” he sulked. He did not seem pleased at that thought. It was clear he bore no welcome for the new arrivals.
He was silent a moment longer, then: “Silver-mane!” he barked. “What is that stone around your neck?”
Skywise beamed. He slipped it off and held it up by its thong of braided hair. “The lodestone. It was... a present from the troll king. See?” he let it swing around until it righted itself, the eye he had carved facing north, the other towards the Bridge of Destiny. “No matter how you spin it, it always faces the Great Sky Wheel.”
“North, you mean,” Rayek corrected.
“If you like,” Skywise shrugged.
Rayek nodded towards Swift. “You seem close. Are you her lovemate?”
Skywise burst into laughter at that. “I’m her brother, in all but blood,” he added. “Swift has no lovemate,” he added mischieviously a moment later.
Rayek said nothing. Skywise could not tell what he thought of that revelation.
“Wolfriders, come!” Sun-Toucher announced. “All of you. It is time you were brought before the Mother of Memory!”
As Rayek had expected, Savah wished all preparations made for a celebration to welcome Swift and her tribe. As the Wolfriders were welcomed into her hut he turned to the hills and began his hunt. Tusk-hogs and hares, and tiny dwarf deer, plump quail and slow fat lizards, he killed and gutted them and assembled them all outside Savah’s hut with a resigned deligence. He would rather greet the Wolfriders with scraps of carrion and dirty water – and they would probably revel in it, scavengers that they were. But the Mother of Memory had commanded a feast, and Rayek would not disappoint her who was like a mother to him, even if that meant swallowing his pride and providing for these barbarians.
He approached Savah’s hut now, and was brought up short by the sounds of raucous laughter. Shouts and sharp cries, like a pack of jackals or laughing hyenas. Without thinking Rayek charged into the hut, spear brandished. The moment the Wolfriders caught sight of the intruder they wheeled around, drawing their own weapons. Rayek found himself staring down at Swift’s curved sword, just as the wolf-chief found herself looking up at the tarnished metal point of the chief hunter’s spear.
“Mother of Memory, what is it?” he demanded. “What is the reason for this vile outcry in your presence?”
“Lower your weapon, chief hunter,” Savah soothed. Rayek wrinkled his nose as he saw she bore the tiniest Wolfrider babe in her arms. “We began the festivities a little early, that is all. Is your promised contribution to the feast already here?”
“Witness for yourself,” he drew back the beaded curtain to reveal the villagers bearing his trophies. “I fulfilled my promise and surpassed it.” Almost without realizing it he turned towards Swift, as if to boast to her of his victory. At the genuine admiration in her eyes he looked away abruptly.
“Thank you, child,” Savah smiled. “What you have done will bring great pleasure and contentment to to our cousins from far away.”
“What I have done I did because you requested it, Mother of Memory, and for no other reason!” He turned his glare at Swift again, and thus did not see Savah’s knowing smile.
“I smell smoke,” little Newstar piped, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes.” Savah placed Wing back in his mother’s arms. “The fires are being kindled. The meat for your feast of welcome is being prepared.”
“They’re burning it?” One-Eye exclaimed, horrified.
“I should hope not.” Savah smiled. “Though we don’t normally cook such large amounts of animal flesh, it will be roasted with expert care.”
**You mean you burn good red meat in fires the way humans do?** Strongbow spat.
Savah blinked in confusion as she looked from elf to elf. The little ones’ faces were filled with abject disappointment, while the elders struggled to remain stoic.
“You mean you eat raw meat off the bones like wild animals?” Rayek demanded.
“Peace, child,” Savah said softly.
“Well, if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is,” Treestump sighed.
“You do not eat cooked meat?” Savah asked.
“Come, Wolfriders!” Swift spoke up. “They have different customs than we. Rain, Shale, Skywise, you all have roasted meat with me over our cook-fires. You know it can taste just as good as fresh from deer. Pike, your howls tell us the chiefs past would cook their meat ‘the way humans do.’ Things cannot stay unchanging.”
**That is not the Way!** Strongbow declared in an open sending. **Are we not still Wolfriders?**
“Oh, Strongbow,” Grayling rolled his eyes. “Can’t you sing anything but that old tune?”
“Mother of Memory,” Swift turned to Savah diplomatically. “We are honoured to share food with you. But some of my tribe have little taste for cooked meat. Can we set aside some of the game for them to prepare in the Wolfrider tradition?”
“Of course,” Savah smiled. “Rayek, could you see to it?”
“I suppose you would like someone to keep watch with a fan-bush frond, lest the flies descend?” he growled.
“That would be lovely,” Swift drawled insincerely.
The feast went ahead as planned. The older Wolfriders cut up the undressed carcasses as they liked, savouring the fresh flavour. Some of their younger tribesmates cautiously tried the roasted meat. The more adventurous Pike and Skywise wolfed down portions of roast quail and deer heartily, asking about the pungent spices and sauces they were cooked with. Grayling found himself staring across the circle of the dancing mats, his eyes fixed on a handsome villager youth who was too shy to return his gaze. Feeling shy himself, Grayling looked away. Truly, I will not mind if my chief-sister says we are to stay here, he decided, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks.
Leetah moved to the center of the circle with two other maidens. The Wolfriders sat in awe of the lights, the music and the dancing, and she gloried in it. She saw how Redlance’s young mate Nightfall covetuously watched the dancers, and Leetah kicked her skirt higher. She saw how the golden-haired Eyes High stared at the glowing lanterns in wonder, and Leetah danced under their light to call attention to them. But most of all she saw how Swift's eyes kept returning to Rayek. And Leetah’s mood began to sour despite the sweet music.
Rayek was hers. Hers to accept or reject as she willed. Hers to hold at arm’s length forever, or draw close in benevolence if she chose to do so. For six hundred years they had played out their game of dominance. She would not let a wild she-wolf storm into the village and upset the careful balance she had maintained all her life.
She lifted her veil and danced nearer to Rayek, intending to catch his eye with her sensuous movements. But, sitting alone at the far edge of Savah’s dais, Rayek had eyes only for Swift. His stare was cloaked in scorn and frustration, but Leetah could see something deeper, ultimately more disturbing. She kicked again, whirling about under the lights. But he did not see her.
Rayek did not like these newcomers. He had always been the only hunter, the provider of Sorrow’s End. He knew how much the village relied on him whenever the harvest failed, and he thrilled in that dependence as he had in his use of the old powers. But now, after so many years, a new hunter had come.
He watched as Swift rose and wandered around the perimeter of the circle, gazing at the dancers with delighted eyes, then took a cut of freshly-roasted meat from a platter and sat beside her silver-haired friend. Her figure was slimmer than Leetah’s, lither, toned from years of prowling the green-growing place. Her every movement was charged with an artless animal grace. She was captivating.
He would not be captivated. He would not become the prey. This upstart huntress would not claim him as her own.
Heart to heart are lifemates bound,
Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes.
Lad, among those gathered round
Stands your one love Recognized.
No! He would not be lifemate to such a creature. To one who could eclipse all others, even him, within her shadow. He was meant for one like Leetah, one he could possess, not one who could possess him.
Leetah? Is she even here? He looked up as he felt the gauze of her moth-fabric veil brush his cheek. He saw her execute a flaunting pirouette, a self-possessed smile on her beautiful face, and it struck him how coldly manipulative she could be, how scornful of dependence and love. Had he been chasing a heat-vision all his life?
No. It was only the Wolfrider that made him think that. He had never doubted his feelings before.
He looked past Leetah and caught Swift’s eyes. They seemed to devour him.
He sprang to his feet and left the feast.
He did not go to Leetah’s hut that night.
Swift smiled and waved to Hansha the metalworker. “You have opened your houses to us, and we thank you, but these caves will serve us well enough.”
“As you wish, friend Swift,” Hansha called back. “But do not hide from the sun forever!”
“Leetah!” Shenshen drew up alongside her sister. “Come with me,” she urged in a cheery voice. “I’m taking these blankets to the wolf children. Those dark, cheerless caves must be so cold at night, especially for the little ones.”
“You go, Shenshen.” Leetah continued her embroidery calmly, but her voice was like ice. “I don’t want to.”
“Because of Swift? Really, sister, must you be so unforgiving? She may have frightened you, but she didn’t do any harm. And she did apologize, to you and to Rayek. You ought to be more friendly.”
“Shenshen!” Rayek burst out from behind the hut. “You are a fool to encourage her! Leetah would do well to avoid those barbarians altogether! Especially that she-dog Swift!”
“By the midday fumes” Shenshen whispered as Rayek marched off imperiously. “Rayek grows more ill-mannered every day!”
Leetah bit off the excess of thread from her embroidery. “The strangers make him nervous, that’s all.”
“Pooh,” Shenshen dismissed. “He’s needed a good taking-down for some time. And, Sun bless me, I think that Swift may be the one to do it.”
“She’s just a savage,” Leetah objected tersely.
Rayek stalked far from the village, taking to the rocks to escape the Sun Folk and their insipid chatter. They talked of nothing but the Wolfriders, how exciting and brave and colourful they were, how sweet their children, how handsome their lads, and how comely their maidens.
Their maidens....
Tam. Tam. why has that strange word embedded itself in my mind? What does it mean?
He would do best not to think about it, he decided. Better to immerse himself in the hunt. He hunted alone, as he always did. He needed no one. It was one of the things on which he prided himself. He found the tusk-hog, as he had expected, rooting through the sand for tubers. Rayek kicked his sandal on the rocks, making just enough noise to make the hog look up and meet his gaze. By then it was too late for the creature.
Gently he floated the paralyzed tusk-hug to his hands. “Calmly now, my bristling friend. You will not feel this.”
“My tribefolk would say you do your prey no honour to take the fight out of it like that.”
Rayek looked up, startled, and found Swift watching him from the rocks above, her silky blond hair floating on the breeze. His inexplicable delight at seeing her was rapidly eclipsed by his indignation. How could she sneak up on him like that?
“Is that your opinion as well, you who are more beast than elf?”
“Actually... I find it fascinating,” Swift replied. She slid down the rocks closer to him. The sun glinted off her golden collar and armlet. “I may carry New Moon, but I have no great love for the hunt. The blood and the pain... sometimes I wish I had the power to spare my prey that suffering.”
“I thought you jackals relished the hunt,” he challenged. “You’ve been here one moon-dance already. I can hear your cursed howling every night. I’ve heard the screams of the tusk-hogs when your beasts take them down.”
“I am not entirely like my tribe. The wolfsong has always run thinner in my veins. Just as you are not entirely like your tribe,” she smiled.
“We are nothing alike, barbarian,” he sneered.
“Why do you deny the truth we both know?” she challenged. “In my tribe we don’t play games with our hearts. We know.”
He blinked up at her in confusion. Moments before her voice had held such light-hearted teasing, yet now it was rich with honesty. Honesty mirrored in her deep blue eyes. It occured to him that she was no more than three eights old, if even that.
Tam?
She slid further down the smooth rocks until she landed on the sand. “I know why you don’t trust us.”
“You know nothing.” He stepped back from the still-floating tusk-hog.
“You hate the jackals in these hills, and you see their eyes in our wolves.”
“Silence, cur!” he snapped, holding up his blade in warning.
She smiled sadly. “You used to hunt them. They wounded you....” She frowned as if sifting through ancient memories. “You lost the use of your arm for years, until Leetah gained the power to heal you.” She reached out towards his left arm and he found he could not move away. “Right here....” Her fingertips brushed against his golden-brown skin. “Leetah’s mother Toorah stitched it up, and later Leetah healed the scars. But I know where they are....” Her fingers caressed the centuries-old wound. “You were only a child.”
“Enough!” He pushed her away. “You may know things, Wolfrider ‒ things you should not ‒ but you have no power over me! I warn you, do not cross me, and do not think to take my place! Or else you will stand no more chance than this!” He rammed his dagger deep into the throat of the tusk-hog. Blood sprayed from the lacerated artery, and a drop fell on Swift’s feathered loincloth.
The wall of anger and mistrust reared up between them again. Swift’s eyes closed off to him while a snide smirk touched her lips. “You still aren’t impressing me, black-hair.”
“I don’t need to!” Rayek raged. He caught up his kill and marched away, leaving Swift standing alone in the gully.
“Are you sure he’s the one?” Skywise asked that night as Swift lay against Nightrunner, trailing her fingers through his thick fur.
“Swift hasn’t eaten for two days,” Treestump murmured from deep within the cave.
“Poor cub.” Rain shook his head.
“I knew it the moment I saw him, and so did he.” She did not look up, but lock-sent instead. **He knows my soulname, Fahr. I’d stake my life on it.**
“Then you should talk to him,” Skywise replied.
“High Ones know I’ve tried,” Swift sighed miserably.
As the night wore on Swift found she could not join in the nightly hunt with the elders. She could certainly not sleep tonight. Perhaps the wolfsong flowed fainter in her veins – perhaps she and Skywise were indeed throwbacks to an earlier time. But she still could find no peace under the stars, even as her body screamed for rest.
She began to climb the rocks around the caves, stretching her aching muscles. She hiked up the steep hill towards the Bridge of Destiny. The tale Savah had told the night of the feast remained sharp in her memory. How Yurek had created the bridge, then had sacrificed himself to the rocks.
Rayek... it meant ‘child of the rocks’.
Was he sleeping now like the rest of the villagers? Or did he too prefer to hunt by night, in stealth and darkness?
She reached the lesser horn of the Bridge of Destiny, and found herself staring across the thin span of rock at the shaped sun symbol on the other side. Savah’s great-granddaughter Alekah had made it. Only she and three others had ever crossed the Bridge to the other side.
Swift slowly stepped out onto the Bridge. She took one step, then another, then went no further. She stood tall, feeling the winds blow around her. Not so strong as on a hot afternoon, as Sun-Toucher had told her. Soft, gentle. If she spread her arms, perhaps she could fly like a bird.
Wolfriders did not dream of such things.
Is that why I was meant to Recognize one like Rayek?
Or is it all a mistake?
How could that be, when she had only to look at him, to think of him, and she felt consumed by a desperate need? It was as strong a pull as she had ever dared imagine. It was more potent than any of the fantasies of her youth when she had watched Redlance and Nightfall together and wondered why there was no lifemate for her at the Holt.
It was more than Recognition, she realized. It was much worse.
She loved him.
Rayek watched her from the shadows, marvelling at her boldness as she stepped out onto the Bridge, at the fearless way she cast her arms to the wind.
He had once tried to walk the Bridge of Destiny to impress Leetah. She had begged and wept for him to return after only four paces.
He had coveted Leetah for her beauty and poise and her use of the old powers, but perhaps he had focused only on what he wanted to see. Swift had no magic that he knew of, yet she carried herself with a strength he knew he would never find in the idle Sun Village.
For the first time he wondered honestly if this strange maiden might not be better suited to him than his fickle lovemate.
But that would mean admitting defeat.
He was not prepared to let her win so easily.
Leetah waited up in her hut, sitting atop her blanket of soft rabbit-fur. It seemed Rayek would not come tonight. He had not visited her hut since... since before the Wolfriders had come to Sorrow’s End. The thought chilled her. Even when they met in the daytime they exchanged but faint pleasantries. A wall had risen up between them since the moment Rayek had locked eyes with the young chieftess.
Leetah fell back against her pillows with a sigh, resigning herself to sleep. She could hear the howls of the wolves in the distance.
Rayek tossed and turned in his sleep. He lay wrapped in his blanket deep within the comforting shadows of the rocks high above the village. They had been his home since he was a child, and he had always relished their quiet and solitude. But now he could not escape his conflicting emotions, even in the half-world of dreams. The wolf haunted him, chased him, cornered him as the jackals had done centuries before.
“Say my name, Rayek!” the wolf spoke.
“No... no leave me in peace,” he whispered, and his voice was weak with fear.
“What is my name?” the elf-maiden demanded.
“S-Swift.”
“My soulname, Rayek! Say it!”
“T-Tam... No!” he cried out in his sleep. “I do not love you! I do not want you!”
“You can’t refuse Recognition!” The elf’s feature grew more lupine. Her eyes lengthened, growing more slanted, more feral. Her ears stretched out and her nose pointed. Fur covered her face until she was transformed into a snarling wolf’s head.
“No one can!” she howled.
Rayek awoke to hear the wolves singing in the hills.
Compelled in spite of himself, he rose and listened to the chilling howl. It seemed lonely and comforting at once, painfully beautiful. Before he was quite aware of it he had abandoned his makeshift bed and was padding on bare feet towards the caves where the Wolfriders made their camps.
He hid behind himself behind a ledge, feeling like an intruder on a feast of predators. Such hesitance was unlike him, and he shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation of fear. But the wolves continued to howl, the Wolfriders too joining in the song.
Suddenly Swift rose and moved to the center of the circle. She drew her sword, the so-called New Moon, and before Rayek realized it, pricked the palm of her hand, letting tiny droplet of blood fall to the ground.
“Timmorn Yellow-Eyes,” the elves chanted. “Rahnee the She-Wolf, Prey-Pacer, Two-Spear, Huntress Skyfire.”
“Ten chiefs before me have sung the wolfsong, have run with the pack, and have kept the laws of our forest brothers,” Swift declared.
“Freefoot, Tanner,”
“When our foreparents, the High Ones, first came to this world, it was the wolves who taught them to hunt, howl and survive.”
“Goodtree, Mantricker, Joyleaf!”
“This night’s howl is for her,” Swift caught the tenth droplet of blood on her sword’s blade. “For Joyleaf, my mother, and for all our brothers and sisters who died as she did. Treestump, brother of my mother, and oldest among us, you speak first.”
Rayek listened, spellbound, as the tale unfolded. The tenth chief had been Bearclaw, son of Mantricker, and “a mean son of a she-wolf,” who had lived to terrorize the humans of the woodlands. Bearclaw had been a good provider during the times of peace, but when the humans returned to the woods everything had changed. Bearclaw defied the intruders, and made war on them. He stole their children and killed their elders, and in doing so enraged the humans beyond all reason. First the humans held spirit-dances and chanted against the Wolfriders. Then they hunted and killed the elves’ wolves. They they turned to a meaner sport, and began to kill elves. Rayek shuddered at the thought that something that walked upright like an elf could be as bloodthirsty as any jackal or mountain lion.
First One-Eye was tortured, then Strongbow’s daughter was murdered. The elves were hunted like animals. Every time one stepped outside the Holt’s borders a human was ready to kill them. Joyleaf urged Bearclaw not to be ruled by his anger, to leave the humans be, but the chief continued in his rage, and tormented the humans with greater fury.
Finally Bearclaw’s own wolf was poisoned by human bait and the loss was more than he could bear. Like a long-dead Wolfrider named Two-Spear he charged towards the human camp. But Joyleaf, unwilling to counsel softly, had her own wolf tackle him and pin him to the ground. She challenged him openly, in front of Strongbow and the other elves. She declared him a false chief, a mad leader. She challenged him to unarmed combat, and when he moved to strike her for her insolence, and took the battle to one of sending. The challenge lasted more than an hour but at last Joyleaf was victorious. Bearclaw, his head reeling from the psychic attack, refused Rain’s healing and limped into the woods, defeated.
Joyleaf returned to the Holt triumphant, and declared herself Blood of Nine Chiefs. From then on the elves lived within their borders, never venturing near the human camp. No one was allowed to leave the designated boundaries. When Eyes High wanted to leave the Holt to built a stargazing nest for the impending birth of her son, Joyleaf forbade it, and may have saved mother and child’s life, for when she went tracking around the boundary alone she found signs of human hunters drawing ever nearer. But it was not the end of Bearclaw, for ten years after the challenge Joyleaf found him, alone in the woods. She had been hunting bear, and was injured – she would have died had Bearclaw not intervened. They Recognized over the body of the bear, but they realized they had grown too far apart to be lifemates once more. The joining was true and Joyleaf bore a daughter, Swift. Bearclaw disappeared back into the woods, to run wild with the wolfpack. His bones were found years later, and no one ever knew how he finally died. Swift grew up with the tribe, a chieftess-to-be, but a strange girl, who took to questioning things the elves had always taken for granted, who wondered if there was a world beyond the woods, who thought one day there might be peace with the humans.
Against his will Rayek found himself drawn more and more to the misfit chief.
But hatred still seethed in the woods, for a monster unlike any Rayek could have ever imagined appeared. Madcoil, an unearthly joining of longtoothed cat and snake. It stalked the tribe, and attacked under the cover of darkness. Rain would have been the first to die, had Swift not sensed the monster a moment sooner and pushed him out of the way. Less fortunate had been Longbranch, Brownberry and Foxfur. Madcoil slit their throats and stole their bodies. The Wolfriders fled to the trees, while their chieftess Joyleaf fell behind them.
She had dragged herself clear of Madcoil’s claws, and it had not been able to take her with the others. But she was wounded beyond Rain’s ability to cure.
“Finish it, my chief-daughter,” she had murmured with her dying breath as she passed New Moon on to her daughter.
Rayek shivered at the image. The conclusion, Swift’s victory over Madcoil, seemed almost an afterthought to him. The scene of a dying Joyleaf passing on her sword to a child but two eights and one remained emblazoned in his mind.
How brave Swift was.
And how beautiful she seemed in the moonlight.
He tore himself away. He would not linger. His pride urged him back to the safety of the rocks. He could not yet accept, could not face that for better or worse he was bound to the Wolfrider forever.
If he joined with Swift there would be... children.
Children. Always he had dreamed of children with Leetah. A daughter with her auburn hair, a son with her shining green eyes. Never had he imagined otherwise. He had thought his life was set.
But now it had been uprooted, without any consideration for his own wishes.
What kind of mother could a child like Swift ever be?
And he... what kind of father? Why had he never wondered that before? Suddenly he felt as young as his Recognized.
Tam....
He fled from the ledge, unaware that Rain had heard his footfalls and turned to see him retreat.
The days passed quietly. Rayek was not seen in the village, yet the Sun Folk did not seem to notice his absence, so fascinated were they with the newcomers. At first the Wolfriders were reluctant to venture beyond the safety of their caves, but gradually they emerged more often into the harsh daylight, curious to learn the ways of the Sun Folk. First came Redlance, captivated by the gardens of Minyah. Then Rain and his mate Moonsbreath emerged to continue their tense alliance with Leetah. The dark-skinned healer was relunctant to share her knowledge with the Wolfriders, fearing she might be eclipsed as Rayek had been, yet she soon found herself won over by Rain’s gentle nature.
Pike could often be found either leaning over the shoulder of Hansha, the Sun Folk metalworker, or else playing with the clay alongside the mild-mannered Zhantee. His brother Shale tried his hand at it once with little success, and his mother Moonsbreath and lifemate Eyes High laughed good-naturedly at the misshapen pot his efforts produced.
While working with Zhantee, Pike began to share tales of the Wolfriders, and Zhantee passed them on to his friends, until soon Sun Folk were lining up to hear new stories from the Wolfriders’ howlkeeper. Uncertain at first about the unspoken rules of his role – did a howlkeeper share the tales with outsiders? – Pike soon chose to oblige. He told them of the distant past, when Two-Spear split the tribe and when Mantricker formed a tentative alliance with his human counterpart. He proudly related his childhood in the Holt, how he was born outside Recognition, how his mother had almost been killed by a bear, how his younger brother Shale had Recognized Eyes High, and how the Holt had been burned down around their ears. His head spun from the wealth of tales the Sun Villagers demanded, but fortunately Redlance’s powers chose that moment to emerge, and a swift planting of dreamberry seeds Pike had salvaged from the Holt had ensured the howlkeeper’s memory would not falter.
Others, though, continued to shun the daylight, and hid themselves deep within their caves.
“I don’t like it,” One-Eye growled as he gently braided Clearbrook’s hair. “Swift’s ribs are starting to stick out like bare branches! That Rayek’s got her so turned around she forgets to eat or sleep.”
Their son, Scouter, agreed. “I know. Swift told me Recognition is like sitting in a thorn bush, gulping over-ripe dreamberies with a sand flea up your nose!”
His elder sister Moonsbreath laughed. “Did she really?”
“Well... I added the sand flea part,” Scouter admitted sheepishly. “And it’s supposed to be good for you! I hope I never had to go through it.”
“It isn’t always so horrid, cub,” she smiled. “I’ve Recognized three times, once forced with Pike, twice unbidden with Rainsong and Shale. It can be just as pleasant as love if you let it be.”
“Well, hopefully Rayek with come to his senses soon,” Moonshade sighed as she tended to her leather, stretched across a frame of stacked rocks. “For his sake and Swift’s.”
**I say it’s for the best that they don’t join,** Strongbow’s sending interrupted them. **To the cook-fires with what that snake wants, but it’s just as well there won’t be children. I don’t fancy that one’s cub leading our tribe one day.**
**You said the same thing when Joyleaf returned from her Recognition,** Moonshade reminded him softly. **You were furious that she would join with him for cub yet reject him as a lifemate. You never thought the child of such a joining could be chief.**
His reply was open to all. **They may be elves, but they aren’t Wolfriders! Shivering ravvits, talking all the time, never doing anything! What good is Recognition with one of them?**
“I notice your brother Grayling is quite taken with one of their lads,” Moonsbreath replied with a sly smile.
“Recognition always happens for a reason,” Clearbrook spoke up. “Swift can’t deny it, and neither can Rayek.”
“Aye,” One-Eye agreed. “It’s fixed. Nothing either of them can do but accept it. Recognition is Recognition.”
Beyond the cave mouth, Leetah tended to one of the domesticated beasts of burden, leading it to the water trough as Swift watched. “We call them zwoots,” she explained needlessly. “There are five of them in the village now. Rayek brought them back, one at a time, from the canyon near Smoking Mountain. That may be where he has been these past few days. I hope he returns soon.”
“Do you miss him so much?” Swift challenged. “Or are you afraid he might forget you?”
Leetah was silent.
“Does the entire village deny what it already knows?” Swift demanded. “Look,” she scooped up the water in her hands, bringing them together. “Two handfuls of water. Join them and the water becomes one with itself. You are a healer, you know this. Why won’t you tell me where to find him?”
“I told you, he may be in the canyon. He may be hiding elsewhere.”
“You’re lying. I can see it. You won’t meet my eyes when you speak.”
“Perhaps I simply cannot bear to look at you, Wolfrider.”
“I wish we were not enemies, Leetah,” Swift hissed angrily. “In my tribe we don’t compete for mates like birds fighting over scraps. We know, and we accept. But if you wish to be at odds, I can fight as well as any!”
“You don’t even want him,” Leetah sneered. “You humiliate him at every turn. You and your tribe have usurped his standing and forced him away.”
“Is that how he sees it?” Swift asked, her anger fading to pain.
Leetah led the zwoot away to graze. “It does not matter what I think,” she sighed at length. “It seems he was never mine. And I do not know what he thinks. He has not come to me since the day you arrived.”
“I am sorry,” Swift spoke. “He is... he is well worth a fight. I cannot fault you for that.”
“I could never accept him as a lifemate,” Leetah turned away. “And he will not accept you,” she said with a touch a malice. “I wish you your fate, whatever it may be, Wolfrider.”
Suddenly the ground shook and a low rumble ran through the village. Swift looked up to the Bridge of Destiny as she heard Skywise howl for Scouter. Within minutes Scouter was running up the steep hill towards the figures of Skywise and the Sun-Toucher. Swift abandoned her efforts at a truce with Leetah and slowly walked towards the peaks, wondering why Skywise needed Scouter’s sharp eyes.
“What is going on?” Moonsbreath asked the Sun Folk suddenly surged into their cave. “Shenshen?”
“Oh, do not worry,” she said with a smile. “We have plenty of time. It is lucky that Scouter was here to do Rayek’s job. Leetah!” She turned to the cave mouth. “Come on, this cave!”
Moonsbreath turned to her parents for answers, but One-Eye and Clearbrook could only shrug. The huntress waded through the on-coming tide of Sun Folk until she emerged into the light. Everyone was gathering supplies and migrating towards the caves.
“I saw them, Swift!” Scouter callled out. “They’re big, bigger than that one!”
“Easy now,” Moonsbreath headed towards her brother. “What are you yipping about?”
“Zwoots, a whole big herd!”
“All that noise from Smoking Mountain scared them up from the chasm where they live,” Skywise explained. “But that doesn’t mean we’re in any danger. It’s a long run here, I saw it. The beasts will probably tire themselves out before they get here.”
All the Sun Villagers began to speak at once. “You do not know how strong zwoots are!”
“Or how stupid.”
“They will get here. Nothing stops them unless they plow head-on into something they can’t knock over.
“You should have seen my garden after the last time–”
“When the entire herd is driven to flight, there is nothing we can do but get out of their way!”
“You won’t try to stop them?” Swift asked, confused.
“What would you suggest, Wolfrider?” Leetah sneered.
Swift smirked wickedly.
Hidden behind the rocks high above Sorrow’s End, Rayek watched the Wolfriders assemble. The Sun Folk had already retreated to the caves. But the pale forest elves were mounting their wolves and sharpening their weapons in readiness for the impending hunt.
“We’ll turn the herd before it reaches the village, and have fresh meat in the bargain!” Swift howled.
“Look, I found ropes in one of the huts!” Dewshine cheered. “Now we catch the beasts as well as turn them!”
Leetah hurried down from the cave outcropping. “Dewshine! You are not going with them, are you? It... it is not a maiden's place to –”
“What?” Dewshine looked over her shoulder. “Why not?”
“Because... because...”
“Shame on you, Leetah,” Dewshine chastized. “A maiden’s place is wherever she makes it. Look, my cousin Swift leads the pack!”
Safe in his hiding place, Rayek smiled as he watched Swift knot a turquoise scarf over her blond hair. Sitting astride Nightrunner, she positioned the tribe under the Bridge of Destiny. Sixteen of the twenty-two Wolfriders waited as the stampeding herd drew ever nearer.
“Let’s run at them now, cousin!” Dewshine exclaimed, giddy.
“No.” Swift shook her head. “The wolves aren’t made to run far in this heat. Let the zwoots come to us.”
Rayek found himself holding his breath as the herd thundered underneath the Bridge of Destiny. There had to be almost five eights of zwoots. Curse the Wolfrider! Would she wait until they were on top of her?
“Wolfriders, ready.” Swift’s voice was calm and measured.
“Go!” she shouted, and the wolves charged.
Rayek watched as the wolves ran at the herd, breaking and scattering to keep pace with the lead animals. The zwoots reared and snorted in terror, their legs lashing out at the intruders. But the Wolfriders pressed on, goading the beasts with spear, blade and tooth.
The herd was turning!
At the forefront of the stampede rode Swift, triumphant astride her wolf Nightrunner. She whipped off her scarf and twirled it high over her head as she drove the zwoots into a canyon Rayek recognized instantly as a dead end. The hunt had begun.
“Look!” Zhantee cried from his perch high above the village. “They’ve passed the village by!”
“They did it!” Hansha cried. He looked up at Grayling then blushed profusely and turned, directing his eyes to Woodlock instead. “Your tribemates have turned the herd!”
The wolves cornered one zwoot, then set upon it and brought it down to the ground. Rayek was stunned at the Wolfriders’ skill and efficiency. He had heard them hunt in the night and watched from afar, but never had he seen so clearly what skilled hunters they were. Little wonder the Sun Folk rushed to embrace them and welcome them as brothers.
What use was there for him now, in Sorrow’s End?
Eyes High and Shale cornered a zwoot foal while Woodlock’s wolf, running wild as his rider stayed in the caves to watch over his lifemate, leapt through the air to sink its teeth into the foal’s throat.
“Savah!” Swift called as she wrestled with the zwoot they had roped. “Come here quick! Look, we caught one for you!” she laughed as her feet touched the ground for the merest moment before she was pulled back into the air. “It’s only a little one... but – whoaaa, it’s kind of hard to hold!”
“So I see,” Savah smiled. She walked over to the zwoot and it calmed down at the sight of her. **Perhaps you’d like to live here?** Savah sent, and the zwoot fell idle and obedient.
“Let’s go get another one!” Swift declared, delighted with the ease with which it worked. Swift bounded back astride Nightrunner while Pike’s wolf Hotburr snatched up his rider’s spear in his jaws.
Rayek watched as Leetah emerged from the cave. Strange, how the sight of her did nothing to stir his heart.
A scream, and Rayek looked down to see a huge zwoot Dewshine and Scouter had captured rear up and fight off its bindings. Scouter was yanked up on the zwoots sloping shoulders while Dewshine lost her hold on her rope. Scouter was tangled in the ropes, strapped to zwoot’s back, while the wolves snarled and snapped at the animal. Dewshine leapt up without a thought and began to slash the ropes with her dagger. Suddenly the zwoot bucked and threw her against a rock. Her head hit with a sharp crack. Scouter was still strapped to the zwoot, while the beast eyed its fallen tormentor with a murderous glare.
Rayek was thrown back in time to the first time he had brought back the zwoots, to the time a hoof had killed Thiro in a heartbeat. Would Dewshine be trampled, killed as swiftly as Thiro had been?
Leetah stood within reach, but was rooted to the spot with fear.
Leetah! Rayek urged silently.
A howl rent the air and Swift appeared out of nowhere, riding on her wolf. Close on her heels were Skywise and Pike. They lunged between the zwoot and Dewshine, driving it back at the last moment.
“The beast refuses to die!” Scouter raged as he plunged his dagger into the zwoot’s neck over and over. Swift scooped Dewshine up in her arms while Pike and Skywise harried the zwoot back. The creature reared up on its kind legs, ready to drive its hooves and crush Swift beneath it.
Tam! Rayek bolted down from the rocks.
But a moment later he drew to a halt as the zwoot fell over. An arrow from Strongbow had finally killed it.
“Little cousin,” Swift soothed, looking down at the unconscious girl.
“Rain!” Treestump called. “Where is Rain?”
Leetah found her courage at last and raced forward. “No, let me.” She scooped child out of Swift’s arms. “Let me do my work,” she said, not unkindly, as she carried Dewshine off to her hut.
Aware how exposed he was, Rayek retreated behind the rocks.
“Where’d the sky go?” Dewshine asked.
“You’re in Leetah’s hut, pretty cub.” Treestump smiled. “She healed you.”
“How can we thank you?” Scouter asked, grinning ear-to-ear with relief.
“No need. Her hurt was not as great as I feared, praise the High Ones.” Leetah looked down, wistfully, at the young lovers. When had she last felt so safe and content in another embrace? When had Rayek?
She got to her feet. She could not stay silent any longer. “Where is Swift?” she asked.
“She’s gone,” Skywise replied angrily. “Isn’t that what you want? You’ve made it pretty clear you’d like her out of the way.”
“Ohhh!” Leetah shoved him out of the way, too irritated to answer. She parted her beaded curtain and hurried out into the sun.
She found the Wolfrider chieftess walking alone with her wolf. She drew up alongside her but the chieftess did not acknowledge her.
“Do you love him?” Leetah finally asked, coldly.
“More than I thought possible,” Swift replied in a soft voice.
“I think I know where he is.”
Rayek sat on the outcropping, under the shadow of a stack of rocks shaped by Savah’s long-dead lifemate Yurek almost ten thousand years before. The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains of the World’s Spine. A gentle breeze was starting up out of the south. At his side sat his cloth sack filled with provisions, a warm blanket, and his red travel cloak.
“Rayek?”
He did not turn around. “I sensed you searching for me.”
Swift took in the sack, the supplies. “Are you leaving?”
He said nothing. Swift shifted uncertainly on the balls of her feet. She stared at his naked back, wistfully admiring his lean muscles. The tail of his long black hair brushed against the nape of his neck and she restrained the urge to reach out towards him. Though it had happened days ago the memory of their fleeting touch in the gully was fresh in her mind. The faintest brush of skin had felt like skyfire.
He was slouched, with his legs drawn tight against his chest, his arms wrapped about them. He looked... afraid.
“Leetah told me where to find you.”
Still he would not answer her.
“Won’t you come back to the village?”
“What for? I saw you turn the stampede. Sorrow’s End has twenty-two new protectors. There is no need for me here.”
“I need you.”
Rayek froze. Swift held her breath. Slowly he began to turn towards her. The look of heartbreaking longing in her eyes was enough to defeat him right then and there. Rayek looked back down to the canyon, unable to face the pain and loneliness in her stare, unable to let her see the same emotions mirrored in his own eyes.
“If... if it will make you feel better...” Swift’s voice was choked with emotion. “I... I don’t know what I’m going to do...”
He heard her soft leather moccasins shift on the sandstone as she began to turn.
“Tam?”
Swift froze. She turned back, and it seemed her legs could no longer support her weight. She stumbled and collapsed to the rocks, overwhelmed at the power that one syllable held over her. She had almost given up hope that she would ever hear it on his lips.
Rayek turned as well, slowly creeping towards her, stunned mute himself at what had just taken place. He reached out hesitantly to touch her cheek and her skin shivered under his fingertips.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered, drawing her close. Swift collapsed against him, nearly weeping with relief. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the subtle scent of him. Neither spoke for a long moment, both afraid to break what might prove to be only a dream. Swift’s fingers wove through his hair, freeing it from the topknot, removing his patterned headband. She brushed his hair out over his shoulders, and buried her face in the raven locks.
At length they sat down on the rocks, watching the sun creep towards the horizon, their hands clasped tightly together. Almost shy, they avoided each other’s eyes, keeping their stares downcast.
“I... I searched for your soulname,” Swift confessed.
“You did?” Rayek exclaimed in surprise, and Swift couldn’t help but laugh.
“But found only Rayek,” she added gently when she saw him grow uneasy at the thought of his soul laid so bare.
He considered it a moment. “Except for Savah my people have all but forgotten how to send,” explained. “Even I had never... well... before,” he admitted. Swift smiled at the memory of his untempered sending ringing in her mind the moment they collapsed in the dust together. “If I have a soulname, I have yet to find it.”
“Perhaps I’ll simply need to hunt a little longer,” she decided. “You’ll find me a patient predator, I think.”
“The bond is true,” Rayek admitted with a soft smile, and all the tension eased from his muscles. He gave her a wry look. “Though I will confess you are not at all what I expected in a lifemate, my beautiful Tam.”
“Barbarian?” she teased lightly.
“Cur,” he sneered in mock contempt.
“Bead rattler,” Swift retorted with a nudge to the ribs.
“Bone polisher!” he threw back with a laugh.
They were both silent a moment longer, again uncertain how to approach this sudden juncture. “Some of my tribefolk will not be pleased,” Swift decided at length. “I think Strongbow was hoping I could deny Recognition.”
“The sullen archer?”
“Mm.”
Rayek gave her a gallant smile. “Then, for his sake alone, I accept the bond.”
Swift burst out laughing.
Rayek turned to his bag and fished out a bundle of soft cloth. “I... I made this for you...” he confessed as he unwrapped it. Swift’s eyes lit up. It was a narrow golden collar, much like the one she wore, but ornamented with three lion’s teeth, set dangling from gold nuggets affixed to the collar with tiny wires. She looked from the circlet up to Rayek’s own collar of clearstone and woven grasses, and recognized the three teeth suspended against his chest.
“I killed that cat long ago. I thought to make a necklace for Leetah to match mine... but for some reason I never did.”
Swift reached up to her own collar and carefully separated the hollow segments, removing the flexible circlet. She inspected Rayek’s necklace to make sure it was of the same design, then slipped it on around her neck. “Is this a zwoot’s bridle?” she teased as she arranged the teeth against her breastbone. “To mark me as yours?”
“If you like,” he replied cryptically.
“Then I should make something for you.” She smiled slowly. “I have a necklace in my belongings, the only thing I managed to save from the Holt as it burned. It’s a wolfshead my sire wore – I salvaged it from his bones when I found his remains in the woods. It’s pure brightmetal, troll-forged. I think I will have one of your metalworkers melt it down and make it into a spearhead for you. If you are to be a Wolfrider’s mate you need a Wolfrider’s weapon.”
He opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and nodded in assent.
She laid her head against his bare shoulder, and he slipped his arm about her waist.
“The sun is setting,” he spoke at length. “The winds blow harshly here at night.”
Swift got to her feet and held out her hand. Rayek took it and let her help him up. He shook out the cloak and slipped it on over his shoulders, lifting the pointed hood over his unbound hair. He looked down at his new lifemate, and wondered at her knowing smile and the spark of humour in her eyes.
“I know where we can go.” She held out her hand once more.
Anatim Sun-Toucher slowly made his way up the Bridge of Destiny, as he always did every morning to greet the Daystar. His steps were carefully measured, carefully placed, for he knew the unchanging route by heart. It was not until he reached the ledge facing the slender bridge of rock itself that his staff struck something that was not supposed to be there.
“Eh?” he called, staring ahead. “Who is there?”
The voice came from below, from the ground at his feet. “Good morning, Sun-Toucher,” Rayek greeted in an oddly sheepish voice. “Swift and I... are here to... watch the sun rise.”
Sun-Toucher allowed a knowing smile to touch his lips. “I... ‘see.’”
Elfquest copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts.