Fate's Long Shadow by Marcela Carbo

Author:Marcela Carbo [Carbo, Marcela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marcela Carbo

46

That night, my master and her band of warriors and hunters set out into the forest to meet with Fennir and his Black Bear.

I went as well, but covered head to toe in a thick cloak and scarf. Only my eyes were visible, along with my gray hands clutching at the folds of cloth.

It was a starlit night, a rarity that no moon sat above us. The best of nights for parley, without the gods meddling. That didn’t stop them from bringing their relics and god-words though.

Torches guided us, crackling and licking at the darkness. I walked between Tonn and Malgog. My master ordered them to carry me away if things went wrong. I should not resist. She carried her weapons, as did her warriors. Her band was comprised of eight veteran elders. It was not always easy for them to remain steadfast. They’d households of their own, and by pledging themselves to her, they’d set themselves at odds with Yorl. Still, they stayed because they saw her as the stronger of the twins. She’d lost supporters to the Reds, however, so she’d meet with this rebel to shore up her losses. He’d at least twenty experienced warriors pledged to him.

Fennir’s people had occupied a clearing in the forest and only hauled in fallen trees for firewood—respecting Melka and his shaman. Two large fires burned on either side of Fennir, who sat on a stone slab. Across from him, they’d placed another slab.

“Welcome, Aelaku,” he said, his eyes sparkling but his lips not smiling.

Her men fanned out.

“Please, sit. Let us talk.”

Did he mean to dominate her? To make her his puppet? My gut churned.

“I won’t speak for the Black Bear in the moot,” she said.

Fennir chuckled. “We don’t need you to. It’s done. We’ve set our marks again.”

“The chief won’t like that. Not after what happened with the Reds. He’ll take it wrong.”

He motioned again to the stone.

“You have no shaman?” she asked.

Fennir shook his head. “They’ve stayed back at my stead. And you?”

She shook her head.

“But you’ve no need for one, do you? You speak your own god-word. Aelath must love you best of all.” He admired her exposed limbs. “I would worship you, Aela.” His words didn’t move her. “And a second word, I hear.”

She motioned me forward, and I removed the scarf from my face.

His eyes flickered, but he wasn’t at all surprised to see a Mornae.

“Good,” he whispered. “Very good.”

He signaled to someone behind him.

My breath caught in my throat as my master’s men drew their weapons. My master’s hand slid to the handle of her hammer.

“Easy there,” Fennir said, a sly grin pushing out through the bush of beard. “He’s mine.”

The Mornae man at Fennir’s side did not flinch at the remark. He reminded me of my mother—proud, but with an amused look on his face—showing a faint smile, as if everyone there was beneath him; as if everyone was part of the game he was playing, and he was biding his time to make his move.

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