Celta: Heart Choice Part 34

"You said T'Blackthorn was here, too. Where?" Antenn asked. "He afraid that whatever ate at his ancestors gonna get him?"

Anger flashed through Straif, but the boy was just resentful of Mitch.e.l.la's place in Straif's life. Her affection toward him.

Then the boy, looking dirty and with torn clothes, appeared followed by Pinky, then Winterberrry, who went to his stridebeast and stowed all the samples.

"You've got him bound-to a rock!" Antenn hooted with laughter.

Pinky mewed h.e.l.lo. Straif nodded to the little cat.

"Yes, I do. Because he was going to risk his life for you by going into the mine."

Antenn sobered.

Winterberry continued. "Now the mine might not be lethal to you or me, but if it ruined the Blackthorns in the first place, it could do more damage to Straif. He was willing to risk it for you. Me? I don't know as if I'd done that for you."

"He only wants to look good for my guardian, wants to keep her happy, especially on a bedsponge."

"Boy, you have a serious difficulty with perspective."

"Let him be, Winterberry. I insulted him when we first met. Though I apologized, Antenn hasn't been able to get past the incident. He's young. Let him sort out his own problems."

Winterberry glanced at Straif, then stared hard at Antenn. "So T'Blackthorn said something about your brother being a murderer-probably the truth, and you haven't been able to forgive him." The guard shook his head. "Your brother's actions are always going to define how people look at you. You shouldn't let them define you, too." Winterberry jerked his chin at Straif. "He was there. I was, too. Didn't know that, did you?

Antenn took a step away from the guard.

"It was the most horrible thing I've ever seen in my life, and I'm a guardsman. Someday when you're older, you should have someone who was there give you a true-memory ball of the event. Your new friend, Vinni T'Vine came into his t.i.tle because your brother murdered old D'Vine."

"Winterberry, that's enough," Straif said. He turned to the boy, trying not to feel like a fool bound to a rock. "You are not responsible for your brother's actions."

"He doesn't want to be judged by his brother's actions, wants a little tolerance from others, but he judges others by how they react to him, won't give those who were at the ma.s.sacre a little tolerance."

"Quiet, guardsman!" Straif roared, struggling against his bonds. Suddenly he was free, and plunging straight for Antenn. Straif dug in his feet, angled his body, but still hit the boy. They went rolling, and Straif did his best to protect the child from the rocks littering the ground. They finally ended up against another boulder.

Winterberry strolled up and lifted a dazed Antenn to his feet, dusted the boy off. "Any hurts, Antenn?"

"Uh." Antenn shook himself like a dog. "No." Pinky sniffed at him, then purred and hopped to the boy's shoulder.

Winterberry offered his hand to Straif, Straif grasped it, and the man hauled Straif to his feet with easy strength. "How about you, T'Blackthorn? Got a cut on your cheek, I see."

Straif rubbed his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

"A bad bruise on your shoulder, too, eh?" Winterberry said. He turned to Antenn. "Did you feel how he protected you? Tried to take any knocks that might have hurt you? That's not the action of a man who is only thinking of pleasing a woman many kilometers away. Those are the actions of a man who cares for a boy. Think about it."

Antenn said, "You don't like me. You don't respect me. You want Mitch.e.l.la all to yourself and will later cast her aside."

Straif shut his eyes a moment, then met the boy's green gaze. "I do like and respect you. As for Mitch.e.l.la-I don't know what will happen." It was all he could think to say.

Antenn looked at Straif, then Winterberry, then shook his head and walked away.

"I don't think I like how you teach your lessons, guardsman." Straif limped in the direction of the horse and stridebeasts, his hip had taken a blow from a sharp rock.

Winterberry bowed. "Always my pleasure to expand young minds."

Pulling a cloth from his trous pocket, Straif dabbed at the scratch on his cheek. "Try to keep me out of your lessons in the future."

"Oh, but you complement my instruction process so well. You play to my strengths, as it were."

Straif eyed the man, his snowy hair, tough build, wondered if he could take him in a fight.

"No," said Winterberry. "I may be older, but I am wilier."

Straif grunted. "If we leave now, we can camp in that sweet little valley, the one with the spring. I do best with water Healing spells, they'll take our aches away. I'd like another bath and Lord and Lady knows the boy needs one."

From his trous pocket, Straif took a piece of parchment and a drawstick. Enhancing the map with his Flair, he marked the mine opening, the large meadow, the boulder-strewn incline and everything else he'd observed. Part of his life had always been revising maps-and sending them to the GuildHall for the official cartographers. Yes, he'd earned his n.o.blegilt-every bit. He hadn't been idle or totally self-serving on his quest. He tapped a finger against the map. "Let's take this short-cut I discovered. It will save us a whole day."

Winterberry nodded. "Anything that will get me back into Druida sooner is fine by me."

Antenn shrieked. "A beastie!"

Both men flinched.

And saw the fox staring at Antenn, between the boy and his horse.

"That's my Fam, Vertic," Winterberry said. "He accompanied us from Druida. Surely you've seen foxes before."

Antenn frowned. "I don't think so." He clasped Pinky in his arms and glared at the guard. "You have a fox Fam?"

Winterberry sighed. "It appears so."

Lip stuck out, Antenn looked away and said, "Pinky wants to become a Fam."

Straif and Winterberry exchanged a look.

Can that be done? asked Winterberry.

I don't know. Straif walked over to the boy, put his hand on the thin shoulder, and looked down at the cat, which was smaller than Drina. "I'll talk to Danith D'Ash when we get back. If Pinky can become a Fam, it will be done."

Antenn sniffed. "My thanks."

"If you give him to me, I'll-where does he ride?" Straif looked at the horse; there wasn't a pad as they'd fashioned for Vertic.

"Right here." Antenn pointed proudly at a makeshift bag-it was st.u.r.dy enough to hold the cat, but had netting so Pinky could watch the world go by. "Or sometimes he lies on the horse's neck."

"About that horse-"

"It's fine. I didn't hurt it at all. It liked the travel!" Antenn said.

"Then you will get to explain that to Caprea Sallow. I'm sure Mitch.e.l.la has already made payment arrangements."

"I'll pay for him!"

"Of course you will."

"I have gilt from my job on your ballroom. When you pay Mitch.e.l.la, she'll pay me."

Straif stared at the boy, his world skewing. He had a young boy depending upon him that he cared for. His chest tightened.

He took Pinky from Antenn and gently placed the cat in his carrier, then lifted Antenn onto the horse. "Everything has turned out fine."

"You think that you'll be T'Blackthorn?"

"I intend to be," Straif said.

Antenn nodded. "You'll probably stay a GrandLord, then. But don't you hurt Mitch.e.l.la." He hesitated. "Try not to hurt her anymore, I mean."

Straif winced. Winterberry joined them, Vertic on the pad behind his saddle.

"Sometimes the moth flies into the flame," Winterberry said.

The return trip was going well-too well for travel in the northeastern edge of the Hard Rock Mountains. As the most knowledgeable in camp craft, Straif set the last shieldspell on the outer concentric circle. The fox and the cat were staring at each other. Winterberry had taken Antenn off to bathe and for another "little talk." Straif figured the man was giving the boy a better target to loathe than Straif himself.

Blackthorn. Male grychomp. Two meters from us. Winterberry's mental probe was tense.

Grychomps were Celtan beasts three times the size of a large man, with fur and claws, mean tempers, and very, very large teeth. Straif sent, Don't move. Don't use Flair. Flair attracts it. Cold coated Straif's guts. He had to act fast, but carefully if he wanted to save all their lives. He ran for a mechanical gun, praying it would work. He hadn't often used it.

Next to the gun was a Flairstorage he'd carved for himself. He didn't often use that, either; no one on Celta wanted to be without Flair. Pulsing with fear, he sent his Flair shooting into the storage, then whirled and tracked his friends by sight only, remembering the direction of Winterberry's call. Straif was grateful for the trip he'd made to Nuada's Sword, the time he'd spent with Ruis Elder. He'd been without Flair recently, so had practice in coping with the odd off-balance sensation.

The metal of the rifle was cold in his hands.

No noise. A good sign that the grychomp wasn't feeding.

He glimpsed the man and boy near a rock wall, they both had their trous down. Straif winced, no running fast for them.

The grychomp was big and ugly and not too hungry since it sat and watched its prey. Straif was behind it. Its head, which Straif had decided to aim for, was sunk beneath its body. There was a boulder that would give him a better shot, but Straif was sure he couldn't climb up it without making noise.

Winterberry saw him and stiffened. His tension communicated to Antenn. The boy looked petrified. Good.

Straif wondered if he could wound the beast, then run. Not a good plan, but it would distract it from the others. He raised the rifle.

A horrible, ululating shriek came from Antenn, a gang cry.

The grychomp's head popped up.

Straif squeezed three exploding bullets into the head. Bright blood spattering, the thing fell, landing with a force that vibrated the ground beneath Straif's feet.

Winterberry and Antenn pulled up their pants, and stumbled around the beast until they joined Straif.

They stared at the hulking body. It didn't twitch.

Winterberry licked his lips. "Good shots. That's a gun, isn't it?"

Antenn turned to heave his lunch into a bush. Straif handed the rifle to Winterberry and squatted before Antenn. Taking a clean rag from his pocket, he wiped Antenn's mouth, then lifted the boy into his arms. "I need to hold you, right?" he said, thinking the boy needed to be held. "That's the closest I've ever come to losing a person on any of my treks. I don't like it." The boy smelled like sweat and wild child.

"What do we do with the body?" asked Winterberry as Straif carried Antenn back to the camp.

"Nothing, unless you want souvenirs. Other animals will dispose of it tonight, primarily celtaroons, but grychomp teeth command a nice price." Antenn had curved his arms around Straif, and he felt good through the crashing from the adrenaline rush. Straif was alive. The boy was alive. Even Winterberry was alive.

Winterberry grimaced. "Hack at the thing? I don't believe I will."

"You could use Flair."

"Oh, Flair, right. That quality that almost got us killed," Winterberry said. He squinted at Straif. "You don't have much about you. I'm not picking up a trace." He sounded irritated.

"I put it in a Flairstorage. I'll draw it out shortly."

"You brought a Flairstorage with you. One you probably made yourself?" Winterberry said.

Straif kept patting Antenn on the back, for both of them. "Yes."

"And a gun," Winterberry said.

"It's best to be prepared."

Antenn lifted his head from Straif's shoulder. "You stalked and killed a grychomp without any Flair?"

"Yes."

Grunting, Winterberry said, "I can barely walk when I don't have Flair."

Straif strode into camp and set Antenn on his feet by his tent. "Winterberry, you close the shieldspell circles."

Before his sentence was done all three protective circles had been activated. "Good job," Straif said.

A muscle flexed in Winterberry's jaw. "When I'm not caught with my pants down, I can be an a.s.set to the team."

Letting his knees go loose, Straif sank into a cross-legged position and looked up at Antenn. "You did very, very well, Antenn. That shout was just what I needed to distract the grychomp and get a good shot."

Antenn wiped his nose on his arm. "I thought so." He smiled a little. "It was our old gang cry. That, that-"

"Grychomp," Winterberry said, breaking down the gun to examine every piece. Cleaning items had appeared near him, and he went to work.