Seven Endless Forests - April Genevieve Tucholke Page 0,70
taught the Amber Dance to other Bards.” I glanced at Madoc and put my hand on the hilt of my blade. “You were very clear about this in the shepherd’s hut, after Uther burned my home.”
Madoc shifted into the first stance and smiled at me over his shoulder. “I’ve changed, Torvi.”
The Quicks had lost a companion on the banks of Lake Le Fay—Pip, with the brown hair and sad brown eyes. They had burned his body and completed their dawn-to-dusk mourning. The archers were now back to their boisterous, cheerful ways—they would weave Pip’s name into their songs and into their stories. He was not truly dead.
The graceful archers picked up the Amber Dance as easily as breathing, and we all flowed through the steps together, four Butcher Bards and six Quicks, moving through the forest shadows. Afterward, we feasted on forest deer and yellow butter mushrooms. Gyda and I ate like half-starved Aradia Witches, fresh from a monthlong journey through the Spice Desert on a black-and-white dune ship.
TWENTY
The blood trees soared above us, blocking out the summer sky. Sunlight streamed down in thin, ethereal strands, like the silvery-blond hair of Midnight in the Sea and Ash Saga. We’d stopped at a crossroads in the Brocee Leon Forest. One stone arm of the signpost pointed to Tintagle, and one arm pointed north, to Imp’s Ear Peak—the highest point of the Skal Mountains.
Ink, Gyda, Madoc, and Sven du Lac leaned against two thick tree trunks, smoking their pipes. The Quick leader carried Skinn Lykill in her pack, nestled against her hip—she never let the book out of her sight.
The Mort Darthur River flowed behind them—it was nearly eight feet wide, with a swift current of melted snow from the tips of the Skals. The water had a violet sheen to it, created from mineral deposits it picked up during its course down the mountains. Mists of purple-hued droplets hung in the humid forest air and settled on our skin.
“It’s the color of your eyes in moonlight, Torvi.” Ink nodded toward the river.
“Sea Witch eyes,” Lionel added. The tall Quick knelt down on the bank and slipped her fingers into the water. She caught a fish in one hand, threw it onto the bank, and then brought up ten more.
We roasted the fish on thin sticks over a small fire. It was our last meal with the archers before we turned north to find the Fremish wizard and the tunnel to Esca’s jarldom. Sven du Lac and the Red Sparrows would return to Tintagle and seek word of the Scholar Gretel.
I embraced each of the Quicks in farewell. Teel was bruised and battered from the wolf battle—she put a hand to her sore ribs each time she laughed, but it didn’t stop her all the same. She chuckled softly into my neck when she said good-bye.
Galath had taken a knife to the shoulder during the attack. I kissed each of his cheeks instead of clasping him in my arms, in the way of the Fremish.
I held Lionel longer than the rest, Sea Witch sister that she was. She’d emerged unscathed from the battle, which came as no surprise. Only Uther could have posed any real challenge to her in close combat—the Quick was built like a god.
Sven du Lac was last. She gripped my forearm, her small fingers wrapping tightly around my skin. “I promise to come to your aid if you ever have need of me.” She turned to Gyda, Ink, and Madoc. “Same goes for you, druid, and you two Butcher Bards. Send word. I’ll be there.”
Madoc placed his hands on Sven’s shoulders and touched his forehead to hers—an Elsh gesture of gratitude and honor. “I owe you, Quick. I obtained the vengeance I’ve craved since Uther murdered my Butcher Bard family.”
They stayed like this for some moments before Sven gently pulled away. She looked up at Madoc, her eyes bright and mischievous. “We rescued a book from a tower, massacred a pack of meddlesome wolf-priests, and drank copious amounts of mead in a Butcher Bard cave. What more could we want from an adventure?”
I laughed. “Good luck finding your Scholar, Quick.”
Sven put a fist to her heart. “Good luck finding your sword, Bards.”
“Heltar,” Gyda and I whispered in unison.
Gyda, Ink, Madoc, and I watched the Quicks stride off down the Tintagle path, the air ringing with their cheerful voices. We stared after them until they disappeared, bodies swallowed by trees and shadows.