Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Fifteen

The Master Tracker halted so abruptly Hope had no chance to avoid him. "My apologies, Taran," she said, even though it was hardly her fault.

He grunted.

Ruefully she rubbed her sore nose. His spine was as rigid and intractable as his personality. He'd been asked to accompany Willem's hunting party but had refused to take part in anything "that drunken good-for-nothing" had a part in organizing. His attitude suggested he didn't feel charitable toward anything Hope had organized, either.

Too bad.

"Is this the place, Taran?" she asked.

"Yes."

Hope waited for him to elaborate further but he remained silent. His terse response bordered on rudeness. She skimmed his surface thoughts, certain that if she'd been able to physically see right now, Taran's true feelings would be written all over his face.

Immediately she wished she hadn't probed his mind. If she hadn't been backed by Blayne and Dayamar, two of the most influential men in the settlement, Taran would not be out here "traipsing around". He could not understand why this "fool's mission" was being taken so seriously. He thought Hope was the worst kind of fraud.

Hope sighed. Ignorance would have been slightly more comfortable than knowing exactly how little he thought of her.

"Thank you, Taran. I will have the pelts now please." She knew he was unimpressed that she continually "forgot" to use his formal trade title. Petty of her, perhaps, but once she'd realized how much it irritated him, she made a point of omitting the title he considered his due.

Taran clicked his fingers at his apprentice and the young man handed over the wolf-pelts to Hope. "You and Lukas may both go now, Taran," she told him. "Blayne will stay with me."

The tracker grunted again. His thoughts spilled out, begging Hope to read them. He was tempted to leave but damned if he'd miss out on whatever "farce" this weird young woman was about to perpetuate. He'd not come all this way for nothing. He could imagine the incredulous faces of his friends when he regaled them with details of this... this... ceremony. Golden eyes did not a Sehan make—no matter what others claimed.

She sighed, inwardly this time. Serve her right for reading private thoughts. Life had been far less complicated before that particular talent had developed. Not to mention all the moral issues it raised.

"I'll stay,' Taran said.

"Don't get in her way, Master Tracker." Blayne's voice was so flat and curt Hope suspected that he, too, had gleaned Taran's true opinion of her.

Taran must have recognized Blayne's displeasure for he made a belated effort at politeness. "If it pleases you, we'll wait over there, Panakeya." He stomped off, and Lukas's lighter footfalls followed.

"Master Tracker or not, I have little time for that man," Blayne muttered.

She responded with a tight smile. Taran's attitude was getting old.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Hope?" Blayne asked. "Perhaps you should have waited another couple of days."

"I am sure. I will start now. You should stand back, too, Blayne. I do not know what might happen."

"Call out if you need me. I won't be far away."

She listened to him making his way toward Taran and the young apprentice.

"This should be interesting." Taran had made no effort to lower his voice.

"Yes, Master Tracker. It certainly will be." Blayne's silky tones promised retribution if Taran didn't watch his mouth.

Hope's smile died as she turned her full attention to the task ahead. She moved until she stood beneath the tree where Lyam had died.

Clutching the rolled wolf-pelts to her chest, she extended her senses, feeling for some difference, some indication of negativity. Surely evidence of a man's untimely death would linger, infecting the energy of the surrounding vegetation? But she sensed only regret. Lyam had not raged against his fate. Some small consolation for Treya, perhaps.

Hope inhaled the cool, crisp night air, and allowed her mind to slowly expand outward. It was ridiculously easy to enter a trance now. Even so, she knew she still had much to learn.

The muddled mass of aureyas from the living entities surrounding her became more vibrant, more defined, until Hope could See each individual aureya vividly in her mind. Probing tendrils of her seer-sense intertwined with the myriad aureyas and wove them into a whole, and she used this living energy to shoot her will upward and outward in an umbrella-like net that swept the sky. She didn't know how she did this, or even why it happened precisely this way, only that it was needed.

And thus, Hope summoned an entity the Dayamari called a god to her.

The watching men moved restlessly. Even Taran, skeptical of Hope's abilities, was gripped by the first stirrings of fear. His skin prickled. The night seemed to close in on him... and he knew in his bones something other-worldly was brewing.

In the fading light the young Sehan's golden eyes blazed. Taran heard a howl, faint at first, as if from a great distance. Then louder. And louder still.

"Sounds like a wolf," Lukas murmured.

Taran glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye and glanced skyward, squinting as cloud cover abruptly dissipated to reveal a too-bright starry sky.

"Look!" The boy's voice squeaked like a child's.

Taran couldn't blame him. A group of stars had fused together into a circular shape, and that was enough to make any man squeak.

Wolf-song rang out again, so piercingly loud that Taran clapped his hands over his ears. The twinkling circle burst... only to reform into a wolf-shape with glowing eyes. And right then, Taran began to believe that Hope truly was Sehani through and through.

The star-wolf floated downward. A blinding flash and a silver wolf stood before the young Sehan. A real wolf. The biggest Taran had ever seen. It sniffed her and then sat back on its haunches, waiting.

"Shikari's paws," Taran breathed. "Look at the size of that thing!"

The beast glanced in his direction, it's glowing golden eyes fixing on his face. When he shrank from its feral gaze, it bared its fangs in a wolfy grin.

Sehan Hope inclined her head as if in greeting. "So, it is true," Taran heard her say. "You do exist." She sounded more resigned than awed. Silence reigned, and he got the distinct impression she engaged in wordless communication with the wolf.

The beast shimmered, and in the blink of an eye a rugged, powerfully-built man towered over the young woman. His hair and beard were an unruly silvery mass. His eyes were bright gold. He was barefoot, and clad in pants and tunic of some material that shone with so many different colors all at once, it hurt Taran's eyes to stare at him for too long.

"Please, Shikari?" the young Sehan said.

"Very well," the god said. "It shall be as you wish, little Sehan."

She offered him the wolf-pelts and as Shikari took them, all-too-human anger twisted his face. "My children often act without thought for the consequences. What is to be done about them, Sehan?"

"Not a thing Shikari. It's a part of what makes us human. We're sometimes ruled by our emotions, and true, we often make mistakes. But most of the time we learn and grow wiser. It's the way of our kind."

A chill goosed the hairs on Taran's nape. Prior to this moment the young woman's speech had been stilted and overly formal—just one more thing about her that had irked him. Now, she could have been a native of this land.

"Hmm." The god deliberated a moment before placing the pelts on the ground. A brief incandescent blaze of his golden eyes and the pelts disappeared. In their place stood two wolves—a mated pair.

Shikari placed a hand on the head of each wolf. He murmured something—their names, perhaps?—and the fur of each flashed to pure white. "You are forever marked. Never again will you be harmed by humans. Live long and produce many pups, my friends. Now thank Sehan Hope for your lives and be off with you."

The wolves yipped and butted their heads against Shikari's thighs. They nosed Hope's hands before loping off.

She knit her brows. "How have you marked them, Shikari?"

"Their pelts are pure white."

"Won't that make them easy targets?"

The god chuckled. "Of course, little Sehan. And every hunter who sees them will desire their pelts. But no weapon aimed at either wolf will ever fly true. No human-made weapon will harm them."

She shook her head. "Our hunters will see them as a challenge and only try all the harder to kill them. Your poor wolves will never have a minute's peace."

She chastised a god? Taran sucked in a horrified breath.

But Shikari only threw back his head and laughed—a deep, resounding belly-laugh that coated the night with warmth and delight. "You're right, little Sehan. But as you said, humans learn by their mistakes. I'm sure word will get around that white wolves are gods-marked. And you do not know wolves as well as I. The beasts appreciate a good game. They'll tease your hunters unmercifully."

The god's gaze licked the length of her, weighing and considering. "Hmm. We were right to choose you. Fragile as the petals of a flower on the outside, but inside as resolute as stone. Are you ready for what lies ahead, little Sehan?"

"I don't know, Shikari. All I can do is my best."

"We have faith your best will be more than enough." His form flickered.

"Wait! Take me to the incorporeal world. I must learn what I can of it—the sickness. I need to know. I need to see!"

"Are you certain, little Sehan? It's an ugly sight—not one for the faint of heart."

"I must."

"Hope, no!"

Blayne lunged but Taran hooked an arm around his chest and held him back. "You can't go up against a god!" he hissed, ducking Blayne's blows as the man struggled to free himself.

The god's spectral hand clasped Hope's. His eyes—now little more than glowing golden orbs—focused on Blayne. "I will keep her safe, Panakeya." And then Shikari and Sehan Hope vanished.

"Hope!" Blayne's anguished shout shattered the silence. He shook off Taran's grip and sank to his knees, his face a mask of despair.

"Kunnandi's fickle fangs." Taran chewed the inside of his cheek. Now what was he supposed to do?

Lukas opened his mouth but the only sound he managed was another squeak. No help there.

The Panakeya had buried his face in his hands. His back was bowed, diaphragm heaving. He wore despair like a shroud. The young woman was more than just another pretty face gracing his bed. Blayne truly cared for her—poor bastard. Loving a Sehan wouldn't be an easy path.

"We'd better get him home, Lukas. Gods only know when Sehan Hope will be return." Or if.

"I'm staying." Blayne climbed to his feet. "Sehan Hope and I thank you for your help, Master Tracker."

For the first time in his life Taran felt true compassion for another's pain. He prided himself on never having required a healer his entire adult life. But Blayne was more than a dabbler in herb-lore. The man was an experienced hunter and a talented tracker—worthy of respect. As was this young woman he'd Chosen.

Taran inclined his head. "My apprentice and I will stand vigil with you, Panakeya."

Blayne gave a curt nod.

Lukas cleared his throat. "What do we do now, Master Tracker?"

"What do you think we do, youngling? We wait."

~*~

The unrelenting darkness disdained to reveal further astonishments. Taran estimated it was just gone midnight. He stretched the kinks from his spine and hid a yawn behind his hand as he pondered how this night would end, and—

A pale swaying figure materialized before his eyes. Lukas darted forward and managed to catch her as she crumpled.

Blayne snatched her from the youngling's arms and lowered her to the ground. He sat with her in his lap, rocking her back and forth.

Taran's mind roiled and seethed with everything he'd learned this night. There was a sickness in the spirit world. Shikari hoped this young blind woman would be able to cure it. She was the most important person in Dayamaria right now. And if the Panakeya needed a kick in the pants to snap him from his daze so he could insure she'd taken no lasting harm, then by Shikari's hairy paws, Taran would administer a good firm one. "Panakeya, you must see whether she's in need of healing."

No response.

"Panakeya Blayne!" His voice cracked out, whip-like.

Blayne recoiled and shook himself. To Taran's relief, he began to act as a healer should. "Hope, how do you feel? Do you need healing?"

"I'm fine."

Other than the fey expression in her eyes, Taran could see no injury—no physical injury at least. Blayne appeared to come to the same conclusion, for he stood and tugged her to her feet. When she didn't immediately crumple again, Taran breathed out some of his tightly wound tension.

Blayne had cupped his palm over the little Sehan's stomach. "The baby?" he asked.

"Our baby is safe."

"Sweet Wisa, I thank you." Blayne hugged her to him. Overtop her head his gaze searched Taran's face.

"You can rely on our discretion, Panakeya," Taran said. "Nothing that took place tonight will be repeated without your permission. Or yours, Sehan Hope. Isn't that right, Lukas?"

Lukas nodded enthusiastically.

"Past time you were home, Sehan Hope. Lukas, lead the way." Taran took up the rear, keeping an eye on the couple. Blayne supported Hope with an arm about her waist. She leaned into him. Their strides were perfectly matched.

"What happened to you?" Taran heard Blayne ask her.

"Let's just say I've undergone a profound restructuring of my core beliefs." She snorted in a wry fashion. "As they say in my home-world, it's been one helluva night."

Taran didn't know what helluva meant but he understood the sentiment. He was undergoing some profound inner belief restructuring himself.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com