The Hills of Home (The Song of the Ash Tree Book 2) Read online

  “Then this is?”

  “A younger, smaller cousin, you could say.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “That is not for you to know.” It was said without threat or judgment.

  The creature stretched its neck and the rider patted it twice before sliding to the ground. He stepped closer to Raef but said nothing, his eyes roaming over Raef from head to toe.

  “Am I as strange to you as you are to me?” Raef asked.

  “No one who calls Midgard home has set foot here since the early days, long before your histories begin.”

  “Where is here?” Raef’s voice was soft.

  “Alfheim.”

  Home of the light alfar and only sparsely recounted in the stories from Raef’s childhood. He knew little of the place or those who dwelled in it. “And what do you want with me?”

  “What makes you think I want something from you?”

  “You ride that creature across the sky and descend on me as a falcon does its prey. How could I think otherwise?”

  The light in the alf’s grey eyes faded. “I must bring you to the others.”

  “Then I am your prey.”

  “I bear you no ill will. We do not allow strangers to roam freely.”

  “Why now? Why not drag me off when I was half dead? I could not have stopped you.”

  The alf looked at Raef as though this were an odd question. “You needed to live first.”

  “And if I refuse to go?”

  He whistled sharply and the creature rose up, spreading its wings wide. “Would you refuse him?”

  The creature’s smooth, leathery skin shone under the sun, the color of the ever-changing ocean splashed with burnished gold. The sunset eyes watched Raef and a low sound emanated from deep within the beast’s throat.

  “If I had a sword, I might.”

  “But you do not,” the alf said, his voice now harsh. He whistled again, a different call this time, and the creature was upon Raef, wings and clawed feet extended. Raef ducked and tried to roll under its belly, but the beast twisted with ease and pinned Raef to the ground with one foot.

  “I do not want to hurt you.”

  Raef kept still, one sharp claw pressed into his throat. “There is more you do not say.”

  He nodded. “I do not know what will happen to you. But still I must bring you. It is our way.” The alf touched the creature’s neck and it released Raef in one fluid motion. Raef stood, not removing his eyes from the stranger’s.

  “What do I call you?”

  “For now, nothing.” He did not ask Raef’s name but instead reached up to his mount’s back and pulled himself astride. Raef took his extended hand and climbed up behind him. The creature rolled its shoulders and unfolded its wings in anticipation of flight. Raef, despite his predicament, felt a tremor of excitement. If a command was uttered or the creature urged in any way, it was invisible to Raef. He only knew that one moment the ground was close, the next it was vanishing underneath them as strong wings propelled them toward the sun.

  They soared, they dove, they danced, and for Raef it was over all too soon, though they had covered a great distance. They descended into a narrow valley, closed on all sides and guarded by sentinel trees that rose above the rest. It was quiet there and it seemed to Raef a forest full of memory as they dismounted from the creature’s back. The beast took to the air at once and soon disappeared from sight.

  “This way. We continue on foot from here.” The alf led the way and the forest seemed to come alive with every step he took until Raef was certain he heard singing. The voices were soft and wordless and Raef stopped and looked for them among the treetops.

  “What is that singing?”

  The alf seemed surprised. “Do not your trees sing to welcome you home?”

  Raef raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “A sorrowful welcome, is it not?”

  “Sorrow? I hear only joy.” The alf furrowed his brow for a moment but then motioned for Raef to continue. “I should warn you. Others will not be as friendly as I have been.”

  Raef wanted to laugh. “Friendly?”

  The alf frowned, not understanding Raef’s amusement. “We are not comfortable among strangers.”

  “Even strangers who have done no harm?” Raef asked. The alf offered no response. “Do they know I am here?”

  “No.” The alf paused and took a moment to turn in a circle, his gaze taking in everything both high and low around them. The singing had stopped. Raef began to speak but he silenced him with a raised hand. “You must go first, now.”

  Raef hesitated. The alf carried two weapons, a pair of knives. One lay on his hip, the other at the small of his back. Every step Raef took lessened his chances of escape and the absence of the creature made the alf less formidable. He took two steps, as though to pass in front as he had been directed. Neither took their eyes from the other but Raef was quick, grabbing the alf’s right wrist, twisting, turning, extracting the second knife and spinning away before he could react.

  “You have done me no harm and I do not wish to do you any. But I am leaving.”

  The alf’s eyes showed surprise that Raef had disarmed him, but his features smoothed over quickly. He did not draw the other knife. “You asked if they knew you were here. I lied. They know. There are eyes upon us even at this moment. You will not get far.” The planes of his face went still and hard, and the pale eyes were unforgiving.

  Raef shrugged. “I must try.” He turned and began to retrace his steps. The alf did not follow.

  “You may call me Aerath.”

  Raef paused but did not face him.

  “If you go beyond my sight, I cannot help you. The dragon-kin will come for you. It will not be painless.”

  Raef turned and met Aerath’s gaze. “Can you guarantee my safety?”

  “No. But I can guarantee your death if you go.”

  Not a leaf stirred above them and not a sound could be heard, but Raef sensed predatory eyes and knew Aerath spoke the truth. He closed the distance between them and handed the knife back to him, hilt first. The blade was sleek and cool in his palm and he was loath to part with it. It had felt good to hold a weapon again, even for so short a time. Aerath pulled it from his hand and returned it to its home. His eyes held neither trust nor suspicion.

  “I have given you my name,” he began.

  “Not your real one, I think.”

  Aerath acknowledged this with a nod. “It is not something we share with those outside our blood ties. Only those closest to me in our clan know my true name. But perhaps you will share yours with me.”

  “Raef.” He did not elaborate.

  “Then come, Raef, the Guardians await.”

  “The Guardians?”

  Aerath nodded, his face solemn and respectful. “Our guides, our most sacred council.”

  The moss grew thick under Raef’s boots as they walked deeper into the valley, sinking beneath him and then springing up in his wake, silencing his every step. Raef thought of Vakre and his skill at moving through a forest. Vakre would have enjoyed this place. Though the trees were high all around, light still filtered to the earth, illuminating the brilliant green moss that marched up every tree trunk.

  Aerath was quiet behind him until he reached out to touch Raef’s shoulder. “Stop here.” He gestured ahead to where a steep knoll rose up from the forest floor. “Just there, over that rise, they will be waiting. You will see the six Guardians and it will be up to you to know who ranks first among them.”

  “How will I tell?”

  “Use your eyes, your ears, but make up your mind quickly. They will not be patient. Do not look any of them in the eye. When you have decided, make eye contact only with the one you have chosen.” Aerath hesitated. “You must not be the first to look away.”

  “And if I am wrong?”

  Aerath shrugged. “Their moods are changeable.”

  Raef nodded and continued on. Beyond the knoll, was a hall. It was open to the air an
d the sky and the rain. Dozens of slender tree trunks framed three curving sides and a canopy of leaves arched overhead. Though filled with Aerath’s people, all of pale hair and warm, brown skin, it was silent but for the chatter of birds overhead. At the far end, occupying delicate wooden stools, six tall, graceful figures watched Raef, each with eyes so faded, so light that Raef, from his distance, could see no traces of color in them. They watched him, unblinking and impenetrable.

  Raef approached, his steps slow but unafraid. The crowd parted before him, whispers in long robes, but he had eyes only for those ahead, his gaze roaming over each, trying to decipher their challenge.

  “Midgardian.” The speaker was the farthest to Raef’s right, male and owner of a clear, ringing voice. “How is it that you have come here?”

  “Not by my own will,” Raef said. He did not linger on the speaker but looked down the line at each in turn. “I bring no trouble.” Not the first to speak, too obvious. And not the most imposing, a male on the left, for the same reason. “I wish only to return to my own land.”

  “Where there are strangers, trouble follows.”

  This one was female and she did not bother to hide her displeasure.

  “Is it the stranger’s fault, or is it of your own making?” Not her, too antagonistic.

  “Speak no insult, Midgardian.” She spit out her name for him as though it was a vile word. “You should be honored to be among us.”

  “Should I? You have done me no great courtesy.” Raef continued to look between the three who had not yet spoken, focusing on their chins to keep from making eye contact. “You have given me no reason to honor you. I have been brought here against my will and you do not even give me your name.”

  She rose from her seat and advanced on Raef, restraining herself only when she was within arm’s length. Only then could he see flecks of brown in her eyes.

  Raef spread his arms out wide. “And now I am threatened and unable to defend myself. Is this the hospitality of Alfheim? The gods will not forgive it.”

  She came no closer but stalked in a circle around him, gaze narrowed in disdain.

  “Why are you here, stranger?” The voice was gentle and came from the other female among the six. Too kind.

  “I have said. I do not know.” Raef knew he was running out of time. Two males had yet to speak and he looked between them. Their faces were impassive and betrayed nothing. At a loss, Raef said the first thing that came to mind. “Perhaps Odin has sent me.” There. A twitch under the eye of the man just left of center. Raef made his choice and locked eyes with him.

  “Fool!” The final male, the one Raef had not chosen, broke his silence. “You have chosen ill, Midgardian.” Raef did not look away from the eyes he had chosen. “You will pay for your ignorance.” He, too, left his seat, but still Raef refused to take the bait.

  “Peace, Second. I do not think you frighten him.” The pale eyes blinked, slid away to the Second, and then back to Raef. Raef exhaled. “I am First among the Guardians. You have chosen well.” The words were meant as praise but Raef did not think it sincere. The First’s voice was too calm, too detached. He looked beyond Raef. “Aerath. Come. You have much to answer for.” The six Guardians stood and the hall began to empty until only Raef, Aerath, and the Guardians remained. Aerath did not look at Raef as he walked by, head held high, shoulders stiff, and followed the Guardians. Raef began to do the same but the kind one held up a hand.

  “Not you,” she said. She smiled and though it was not warm, Raef thought she meant well. “You must wait.” She, too, turned away.

  “Here?” Raef called after them but got no answer and they soon filtered between the trees and out of sight. Raef threw his hands up in the air. “Odin’s eye, why will they not just say what they mean and mean what they say. Insufferable and arrogant.” Raef raised his voice, half hoping they would hear. “A blind mountain troll would be a better host than you!”

  A rush of wings behind him made Raef turn just as a dragon-kin settled to the ground. It stretched out its neck and sniffed at him, then cocked its head to one side and stared.

  “What did you do wrong to get the job of watching me?” Raef asked.

  The narrow tongue flicked out once, twice, three times and then the creature’s whole body shivered, a great ripple under the smoke-colored skin streaked with silver and shades of twilight, as it let out a loud breath. Though different in color from the one Aerath rode, this dragon-kin had the same sunset eyes and they looked at Raef with something he could only define as expectation.

  “Should I run just to give you something to do?” Raef settled on the mossy earth instead, legs crossed. “I should have when I had the chance.”

  The daylight was getting old and Raef had not eaten since his three skinny rabbits that morning. When his stomach grumbled to remind him of this, the dragon-kin’s tongue flicked again and it inched closer to Raef, peering at his belly now.

  “Do I sound good enough to eat?” Raef plucked a tuft of moss from the earth and held it to his nose. It smelled of spring and he placed it on his tongue. Earthy, green, bright. He rolled it around, then chewed and swallowed. It nearly stuck in his throat. Despite that, Raef made himself eat another, then another, for he did not know when he would eat again. All the while, the dragon-kin watched, its eyes following Raef’s fingers from earth to mouth. “I once had a dog like you,” he said. Raef tore a larger chunk from the dirt and tossed it at the dragon-kin. The beast caught it with ease but its nostrils flared and it flung the moss, wet with saliva, from its mouth. “Yes, well, you are free to come and go as you wish. You probably have a fine goat waiting for you somewhere. I cannot be so demanding.”

  They stared at each other for a moment and then Raef, not sure if it was recklessness or boredom that propelled him, got to his feet. The dragon-kin sat up taller at this movement but did nothing else as Raef closed the short distance between them until he could feel the dragon-kin’s breath on his chest. This one was smaller, he realized, than the one he had ridden, but he knew the creature could overwhelm him in an instant if it chose. The muscles beneath the skin were lean and strong, the teeth and talons just as sharp and threatening.

  “My dog enjoyed a good scratch behind the ears.” Raef held a hand close to the dragon-kin’s snout. The beast leaned away, the sunset eyes wary, but Raef held his ground. “Would you like the same?” Neither moved. Birds flew overhead, the shadows shifted, but at last the dragon-kin, without moving any other part of its body, extended its neck just enough to come within an arm ring’s breadth of Raef’s hand. Raef felt it inhale, its eyes never leaving his, and then it snorted the breath out and retreated from Raef until the original distance between them was restored. The eyes narrowed and the talons dug into the mossy earth. Raef kept his tone even. “Do I smell that terrible?”

  Raef broke eye contact, then, and resumed his seat on the ground. His fingers found a small twig and he began to strip the bark from it until it was smooth and bare to his touch. He stretched out on the moss, his eyes on the sky, and remained that way until Aerath’s face came between him and the blue. Though Raef knew him only a little, he sensed trouble in that face.

  “They will speak with you now.”

  Raef got to his feet. “Are you coming with me?”

  Aerath shook his head, his lips tight. “No.” He gestured beyond Raef. “There.” Raef looked to where he pointed. The Guardian who had spoken kindly waited for him at the edge of the hall. When Raef turned back to Aerath, he was gone. The smoke-colored dragon-kin watched him until he was at the Guardian’s side, then it took to the skies.

  The Guardian was not very old, Raef realized as he came to stand in front of her. Thin lines radiated from the corners of her eyes, but they were the only obvious sign of age that Raef could see. She did not speak to him, but led him away from the hall. The sound of running water came to Raef’s ears and soon they passed by a rocky stream. Raef paused and knelt to drink, but the Guardian grabbed his arm before he could
dip his cupped hand into the water.

  “You must not defile these waters.”

  “Defile. Am I such filth as that?” Raef felt anger build within him but forced it away. He extracted his arm with as little force as possible. “I have traveled far this day and I am thirsty.” He tried to keep his voice polite.

  The Guardian was silent for a moment and then seemed to make up her mind. She plucked a large leaf from a nearby bush and caught water in its deep well. Raef took it from her, spilled most, and tipped the rest up into his mouth. Though he might have asked for more, she was already on the move. For a moment, he considered dipping the leaf in again himself, but he still possessed some measure of restraint and knew his survival and any chance he had at returning to Midgard might depend upon following their rules. Until it suited him better not to.

  The remaining Guardians waited for him in a clearing. They stood straight and tall, hands crossed in front of them, long robes brushing the tips of the tiny white flowers that blanketed the earth in that place. Three standing stones towered above them, nearly three times the height of the tallest. They were smooth and well-worn with age and any inscription they might have carried was lost to time.

  The Guardians were silent at Raef’s approach and his guide joined them by the pillars. As the silence wore on, Raef ventured to speak.

  “My name is Raef Skallagrim and I am a lord in the realm of men.”

  “You give your name freely.” The First Guardian spoke quietly.

  “Where I come from, we share such things as a gesture of good will. Even in the hall of my most hated enemy, I would be granted the courtesy of food and drink if I came there in so desperate a state as you see me now.” This was a stretched truth. Raef could think of many halls where the name Skallagrim was loathed, the product of generations of dislike between two families.

  “Your people are not strangers to me. I have great knowledge of Midgard.” The First seemed to hesitate. “You will have food and drink when we have finished.” He said nothing more.

  “Finished with what? What is it that you want?” Raef was losing his patience and he was glad of the sharp pain in his ribs that sprang up when he raised his voice. The pain might serve to keep his temper in check.