There was not a great deal of conversation for the first hour or so. What did one say to a woman who had come to kill you and then changed her mind? For that matter, what did one say to a man you had come to kill and then changed you mind about?
There seemed no truly safe topic, and Erell looked too heartsick and weary for even a chat about the weather, so the silence remained. At least, until Tao's natural tendency to avoid silence overcame him. Not a discussion about weather, but he did rattle on about their past adventures, watching Erell as carefully as Dar to see if it was having the desired effect of making her relax. She finally confirmed it with a small smile in his direction, which Tao returned full force.
After the meal had been prepared and portioned out, silence had descended once again. Taking a deep, careful breath, Dar broached a less comfortable topic -- but one he knew had to be discussed, for Erell's own good. (Although he would naturally never confess the same to be true for him, should Tao ever try the same trick.)
"You did your brother great honor by seeking vengeance. It shows how much you loved him, how much you were willing to give up for him."
Erell looked at him, then away again. "There was no one else. Our parents died when we were just children; Liro and I were all the family we each had."
"So you raised him?" Tao asked, frowning slightly with sympathy. "That cannot have been an easy task. You must have taught him a great deal . . ."
"Not enough," she murmured. "If I'd done more, he might not be dead to begin with."
Tao shook his head. "You couldn't have known --" he began gently.
Erell looked at him, her expression hard. "I should have taught him better. Been more insistent. Or just kicked the tar out of his "friends" for convincing him he had to prove himself to them."
Her voice was soft and bitter. Dar recognized the tones his own mind had used for many months after his people died. If I'd just been faster. Stronger. If I'd turned left instead of right . . . There was no harsher critic than one's own grief. The BeastMaster sighed. "People make their own choices," he said gently. "And we can't always save . . ." He shook his head. "We can't always save the ones we love," he forced himself to finish. "No matter how hard we try, how much we wish it. And we cannot go back, only forward. Make a new path to travel."
Erell looked at him again; a long moment passed as their gazes met. There was an understanding there that Tao would never be able to achieve -- an understanding which Dar hoped his friend would never come to, for it would mean losing everything in his world.
Tao knew that as well, and gave the two a time to share that silent grief. But even grief that had been held in too long, must be ended at an appropriate length. Quietly, cleared his throat. When Erell looked at him, he asked, "I don't know much about the Kislii, only what I have seen and heard today. Is it customary for women to hunt as well?"
Erell smiled slightly. "Not . . . quite."
She knew a distraction when she heard one, and she gave the golden-eyed Eiron a smile of thanks. Dar noticed the distraction as well and added his own. "It was the Kislii who taught the Sula about bows," he said. "It is said that the secret was given to them by the gods themselves."
Tao frowned. "Many cultures have bows, Dar."
The BeastMaster grinned, as if this was part of his own culture to be proud of. "Not like the bows of the Kislii."
Erell chuckled. "We make them by blending woods," she explained. "An old trick, but I don't know about such high origins as that. We simply . . . have always known."
She shrugged, but Tao wouldn't let it go. For one thing, her expression had lightened briefly from its deep grief, and he wanted to keep that relaxation about her. At least for now; she needed to relax. "What's the difference?" he asked.
And he did want to know, Erell realized. As Dar could have told her, had she asked, Tao always wanted to know; it was part of what made him Tao. So she smiled and answered. "They are stronger. The range is longer than with other bows, and the force greater." She paused then, at the eager encouragement in Tao's eyes, and the pride in Dar's, she chuckled and stood. "I'll show you, shall I?"
The Eiron nodded. "Please."
She knew it was a continuation of the distraction. She knew it perfectly well. But she didn't care. She was tired, and heart-sore, and she didn't want to think right now. Not about Liro, not about Curupira, not about the terrible mistakes she had come so close to making in the past few days . . . and hours. But demonstrating Kislii archery was safe, somehow. It was something she had practiced for so long that she could lose herself in it -- at least, when her conscience was not arguing with her.
Erell picked a spot on a distant tree and borrowed a fruit from Dar with a smile. Tao watched with a small, almost skeptical frown as she positioned the fruit to act as a target. "Are you sure--?" he asked as she returned to the side of the campfire.
Erell chuckled. "BeastMaster," she said in answer, "please caution the animals not to cross that path?" Dar nodded. Erell smiled in thanks. Then she lifted her bow.
Curupira watched from the shadows of the trees a short distance to one side. She had come to the camp to observe the woman, and to ponder both her reaction and any future action. Now, she watched as the woman raised a bow and fitted it with an arrow, then sighted down the shaft carefully. There was a kind of grace to the motion, a certain ease that spoke of years of practice, of a technique that had become a part of the very way the human moved.
Dar and Tao watched with as much fascination as the hidden demigoddess, their eyes focused on Erell. Erell's attention was solely on the target. As it had innumerable times before, her focus narrowed with each breath that she took. Her whole body stilled, each rise of her chest controlled, timed; had she been in the middle of the jungle, she would have blended in as well as any camouflaged animal.
Then, from one second to the next, her fingers gently released the bowstring. There was a quiet twang and then a hum as the arrow sped over the impossible distance. There came the sound of an impact, then the fruit fell from its perch. Tao stared from the fallen fruit to Erell as the huntress lowered her bow. Finally, as she chuckled at his amazement, the Eiron went to fetch the 'victim.' The arrow was speared perfectly through its center.
Dar grinned. Tao shook his head in wonder. "Truly," he complimented, "you are an incredible shot."
Erell laughed softly. "Years of practice," she answered.
In the shadows, Curupira frowned pensively . . . and then vanished.
Dar smiled and commented, "Tao's been trying to learn to use a staff. Maybe the bow would be better . . . less to hit himself with."
Tao glared at him lightly, while Erell smiled. "Neither is an easy weapon to learn, especially once you leave childhood behind." She paused, while Tao returned to the campfire, then offered the bow to Tao. He took it, curious, only to stare as she said unexpectedly, "If you wish to learn the bow, you may do so with my own. You and I are of a height, more or less. I am certain it would suit you."
Tao gaped at her, startled. "But -- won't you need it? On your way home?"
Erell shook her head slowly. "I'm not going home."
Dar frowned, exchanging a worried look with Tao. "Then where are you going?" he asked carefully.
Erell shrugged. "I don't know. But . . . I have no reason to return to Kislii lands. There is nothing there for me."
Tao shook his head. "But -- your people -- your family --"
Erell gave him a soft look. "I told you, Tao. Liro was my family. We were all we each had. There is nothing for me there, now, but memories and angers."
Dar gave her a long, measuring look, understanding what was at the core of her words. "You want to start anew."
Erell nodded. Tao sighed, understanding as well. "We both know well what that means," he assured her. "And if that is your wish, then we certainly won't try to stop you. My father taught me long ago that each person has to find his -- or her -- own path."
Erell smiled. "Your father was very wise."
Tao chuckled. "And very stubborn. As, I can see, are you -- and others in my acquaintance." He glanced at Dar, who chuckled. Ruh let out a mild snort of amusement. Tao looked back to the huntress, serious again. "But I won't deprive you of a weapon on that path, especially one so finely crafted. You will still need to hunt, and to protect yourself. I will restrict myself to learning how to wield a staff for now."
Erell smiled and took back the bow as he offered it to her. "As you will," she said softly.
Dar was silent for a moment, then said softly, "If you don't have a specific place in mind to which you would like to go . . . perhaps we can suggest one?" Erell tilted her head in interest, and the BeastMaster continued. "There is a place, about three months hard travel from here, called the Hidden Wood. We just returned from there, and left behind a friend."
"Many friends, you could say," Tao amended. "But it is a good place, and all of the people there . . . well, they have made their own family."
Dar nodded. "I'm sure they would welcome one more," he added. "Especially one whose aim . . . and heart . . . are true."
Erell looked at the two men and smiled, weighing the suggestion. "Perhaps," she conceded. "I will at least give them word of your continued health, and goodwill."
Dar smiled, recognizing the excuse as just that. "We would ask nothing more."
~*~*~*~
Curupira stalked through her forest, random waves of energy knocking aside shrubs and saplings. She would regret it later, and fix it later, but for now the plants were the only things on which she could vent her frustration. How dare that human make her question herself?! And how dare she show up here and make Curupira react in such a way when she had just managed to admit her feelings for another human!? How dare she make Curupira appear to be such a -- a -- tyrant!! -- in front of the man whom the demigoddess had decided to be nicer to from now on?!
Curupira let out a yowl of rage and sent another sapling flying. Maya caught it as she stepped out of a rift and shimmered into being. The calmer twin eyed the sapling she had caught out of reflex, then looked at her fuming sister and raised a delicate eyebrow. "This is familiar," she commented.
Curupira glared at her. "This is all your fault!"
Maya frowned as Curupira stalked past her, branches whipping high above her in reaction to the passing wave of energy. Maya gently placed the sapling back into its hole, then followed her sister at what was a safe distance only to another demigod. Maya asked lightly, "Are we talking about your redecorating instincts, or something a bit more . . . oh . . . coherent?" Curupira growled something rude. Maya's eyebrows rose. "Don't tell me the BeastMaster pissed you off so quickly as that."
"No," Curupira snapped. "You did. You got me to admit that not all humans are so bad, admit that I care about Dar, and what's the very next thing to happen? That -- that -- woman shows up and makes me act like a bitch again!!"
Maya frowned. "What woman?"
"That human woman! From the Kislii tribe. A huntress." Curupira scowled and knocked over a small tree; Maya carefully kept silent. "Best of her tribe, she says. And then she makes me question taking the breath from her brother when he slaughtered three of my animals!"
Maya frowned, memory flickering in her eyes. "Best huntress in the Kislii tribe . . . Named Erell, and her brother . . . Liro?"
Curupira turned and frowned at her. "You know these humans?"
Maya nodded and seated herself on the downed tree, sorrow in her eyes. "I know them. I remember them. Erell had just passed her mark of womanhood when their mother and then father died, so I couldn't watch over her anymore . . . and she took such good care of Liro that I almost didn't need to watch him as well." Maya shook her head. "Sister, what happened? Why. . .?"
Curupira's mouth firmed. "Your precious boy grew up to be a killer. He hunted without need and killed three of my animals. A stag, his mate, and their yearling fawn. All to show off to his friends."
Maya shook her head, frowning. "That doesn't sound like Liro. Granted, I hadn't looked in closely on him for a year, since he passed his rite of passage, but . . . Erell was a dutiful child, and always believed in your rules. She was trying so hard to teach Liro the same way. . ."
"Well, she didn't succeed," Curupira snapped. She didn't want to think about this again. "And then she has the audacity to try and avenge him by harming what is mine. And then the audacity to stop, and claim that she stopped because she didn't want to be like ---"
She stopped and turned away. Maya stood, frowning, and approached. "Be like what, sister?"
Curupira turned back to her reluctantly. Anger and hurt shone in her eyes, as well as self-doubt. "To be like me. To kill without true cause. She thinks I could have spare Liro, let him learn, and . . ."
"And," Maya guessed quietly, "now she has made you think that perhaps you should have done just that?"
Curupira sighed. "I . . . I don't know, Maya. It seemed so clear then, but . . . his eyes . . . He didn't struggle, just . . . accepted the punishment. And when he said he was sorry, it seemed . . . genuine."
Maya sighed softly. "That," she murmured, "sounds like Liro."
"But it's more than that. The woman -- Erell, you called her? -- she wanted revenge . . . she came all this way, hunted my animals, attacked my BeastMaster. But she didn't kill them."
Maya tilted her head. "What makes you so certain of this?"
Curupira sighed and made a small motion. Maya followed her as she sent herself elsewhere. They emerged from the rift on the grasslands that bordered the forest. A small pride of lions looked up curiously, then relaxed again as they recognized the demigoddesses. Curupira made her way to a spot a short distance away, where the picked-over remains of an antelope lay on its side. Maya frowned as Curupira carefully pulled two arrows from the beast; the calmer demon recognized the fletching as Kislii-made.
"This was how I knew there was a hunter in my forest," Curupira said quietly. "But I didn't realize it was her until I saw her aim and her demonstration to the BeastMaster and his friend, tonight in their camp. They were the same arrows, and her aim . . . then and last night . . ."
"Was perfect."
Curupira nodded. "She could have killed the lions easily when they came to feast on the antelope. Easily . . . And she could have killed Dar, just as easily perhaps. But she didn't. She stopped." Curupira shook her head. "If someone ever hurt you, Maya -- killed you -- I would destroy everything in my path to get to them," she stated simply. "I know it. I don't know that I could stop myself."
"But she did. And that makes you wonder who is truly the 'lesser' being." Maya tilted her head and smiled softly. "And that's what made you so angry."
Curupira nodded. She walked away and sighed, then murmured, "And I don't . . . I don't know how to make it right, sister. Or even if I can . . ."
Maya touched her arm lightly. "You will find a way, Curi. Somehow," she said quietly.
Curupira frowned. "What makes you so certain?"
Maya smiled. "Because . . . that sounds like you."
~*~*~*~
Morning came too swiftly, announced by that same twittering of overly enthusiastic songbirds that was universally known to irritate even the most cheerful of morning people, who like a good sleep as much as the most surly neighbors. Erell was spared those initial few minutes for one simple reason: she woke up before the little bastards.
She had been awake for an hour when Dar and Tao woke up, but she hadn't stirred from her makeshift bed. Firstly, Dar would have woken immediately, no matter how quietly she moved; secondly, she had a great deal to think about. For there were two arrows beside Erell's blanket when she awoke.
They were arrows she recognized well, from having made them and from having released them barely two days before. They were the arrows that had brought down the antelope upon which the lions had fed. They were the arrows she had used to kill one of the creatures of the Mydlands. They were a message.
Curupira knew of the kill, and she could easily have used it as an excuse to end the human huntress' life. But she hadn't. Instead, she was letting Erell go. Erell just wished that she knew why. She could have asked Dar and Tao, but she doubted they would have an answer -- and she doubted further that Curupira would wish her generosity to be too well-known. So she remained silent, and placed the arrows into the quiver without a word to the BeastMaster or his friend.
When she went to bathe herself in a shallow bend of the river, however, she found the answers waiting.
The water was hidden by a screen of saplings and tall grass, sunlight turning every stem, leaf and limb the soft, pale gold of morning. Erell sensed the other's presence before she actually turned, half-undressed, to see the young-seeming demon standing by the edge of the screen. They looked at one another for a long time, each clearly uncertain of what to say, the silence stretching out between them with occasional interruptions of birdsong and flowing water. Finally, Curupira moved forward and spoke, her voice barely rising above the sounds of the river.
"You know what I meant by leaving the arrows."
Erell nodded. "Yes."
Silence stretched out between them again, tense and uncomfortable. Erell looked away, not trusting herself as she asked, hesitantly, "Isn't there any way . . . ? My life for his, an even exchange?"
Curupira's eyes flashed with sympathy and answering pain. "No," she said quietly. "What's done is done. There is no way to undo it." She paused for a long moment, then continued softly, "I have always said that I do not make mistakes. Ever. But . . ." She paused again. "I have a sister," she said finally. Erell blinked and frowned, but made no move to speak. Curupira didn't want her to; not yet. Instead, she explained. "She's my twin. My other half. If anything ever happened to her . . ." She paused and looked at Erell steadily. "I don't think I could have done what you did . . . or more exactly, what you did not."
Erell looked away, tears in her eyes abruptly reflecting the sunlight. Curupira felt a sudden surge of pain in her own heart, echoing the grief she knew the human to be feeling. Strange how such a short time could change so much in the soul of a creature that had existed for millennia. Curupira approached the human woman, stopping a couple of feet away to respect both personal space and pride. Quietly, she told her, "I wish I could reverse my choice. . . . I wish I could give him back to you."
Words caught in Erell's throat, blocked by the tears. The huntress stared at the water of the river, slowly bringing her voice under control. Curupira waited, knowing that they both needed an ending in this. Finally, Erell forced her gaze away from the river, back to the bright, blue-eyed gaze that seemed so like her brother's despite the differences of age and magick. A kind of peace descended on her slowly; not completely, not for a long time, but it was a beginning. Erell's lips tilted ever so slightly into a soft smile, and she answered, "I think . . . in a way . . . you just have."
Curupira stared at her, and Erell was startled to see the gentle sympathy -- and gratitude -- in the demigoddess' eyes. She nodded, slowly, and then backed away. "Safe journey to you, Erell of the Kislii," she said quietly. "Travel safely through my lands."
Erell watched the slender form vanish from sight, and then turned back to the river. The sun was climbing into the sky, shining full of promise and hope. It was a new day, and she had a long road ahead.
- end -
Main BeastMaster Fanfic Index General Rating BeastMaster Index
Main Library Index Main FanFiction Index
Email the author!
[email protected]
If you see anything out of place or non-functioning, please let the Keeper of the Library know. Thank you and enjoy your stay!