The Wizard in the Woods, page 50
part #2 of Lords of Arcadia Series
I heard his voice. He spoke of you.”
“Thank you,” she was sobbing, and Antilles didn’t think it was the horseman that she spoke to. “I know I said I didn’t trade and I’m sorry, but damn it, I’ve hit my quota. My card is filled. I have suffered enough.”
“Aye, lady. He said as much. And he would be a friend to you, and so gave me to know it is no trade, but a gift he gives to one who once did him a kindness.” Tonka—nay, he would not be Tonka now, and it remained to be seen if he would ever be so named again—raised his eyes to take in Antilles. There followed a lengthy pause. “My lord,” he said 440
finally, still rubbing gently at Taryn’s back. “How good it is to see thee well.”
Antilles could not help a thin spark of humor at this display of typical Farasai understatement. “And thee,” he said gravely.
“Tilly?” croaked a new voice, one that was almost familiar. And then: “Tilly!” A blanket seemingly abandoned at the hearth-side began to quake and shudder as the griffin sleeping beneath it now struggled to be freed. Aisling tumbled out, his gold eyes going wild about the room to take in all of them. His beak clicked as he worked it in silence. Then, as the breaking of ice may bring a cascade of water from winter’s falls, the griffin’s voice—no longer that small shrill copy of Taryn’s, but his own true voice—poured plaintively from him. “Mom!”
Taryn jerked around, her mouth dropping open.
Aisling bounded toward her and she swept him up into a tight embrace. He clutched at her shoulders with his talons, burying his head under her chin, and cried, “Mom! Yoo…rrrrr…oh… kay!”
“Great gods,” Antilles heard himself say and he shot Tonka a startled glance. “He cannot be speaking?!”
The horseman merely smiled. “And why not?” he murmured, resettling himself on his padded bolster. “For has he not been a miracle from the very first?”
“You’re talking,” Taryn cried, true delight painting itself over the grief that had seemed to mask her since the dawning of this terrible day. She was radiant once more, burning with a joy and a healing light all its own as she hugged her griffin close. “Oh, my fierce prince! My big boy!”
“Yoo…rrrr…Ai-sing,” whispered the griffin. His raptor’s eyes flicked to Antilles and his naked wings fluttered. “Tilly.
Yoo…rrrr…sun-shy?”
Taryn giggled, her face pressed to fur.
“Aye, lad,” Antilles said, tossing his broken horn. “My sun and my moon and all my starry skies.”
He slipped an arm around his maiden’s shoulders, pulling her to him with Aisling between them. He closed his eyes, feeling all their heartbeats together. The pain of his body melted away. Tomorrow, there would be pain as all the hurts of his body took an account of themselves. Tomorrow, there must be labors as kraal-Rucombe acknowledged the damage done to it and sought once more to rebuild.
Tomorrow, there must be runners sent to all the peoples of his Valley 441
with word of the wizard’s death and the changes this must mean. But that was for tomorrow.
This was not the hour of his happy ending, but the wizard was gone from his holdings and his maiden was warm against his heart.
Tomorrow, the storms might return. Today, he knew only peace.
Look for Lords of Arcadia: Book III THE ROADS OF TARYN MACTAVISH
442
R. Lee Smith, The Wizard in the Woods
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“Thank you,” she was sobbing, and Antilles didn’t think it was the horseman that she spoke to. “I know I said I didn’t trade and I’m sorry, but damn it, I’ve hit my quota. My card is filled. I have suffered enough.”
“Aye, lady. He said as much. And he would be a friend to you, and so gave me to know it is no trade, but a gift he gives to one who once did him a kindness.” Tonka—nay, he would not be Tonka now, and it remained to be seen if he would ever be so named again—raised his eyes to take in Antilles. There followed a lengthy pause. “My lord,” he said 440
finally, still rubbing gently at Taryn’s back. “How good it is to see thee well.”
Antilles could not help a thin spark of humor at this display of typical Farasai understatement. “And thee,” he said gravely.
“Tilly?” croaked a new voice, one that was almost familiar. And then: “Tilly!” A blanket seemingly abandoned at the hearth-side began to quake and shudder as the griffin sleeping beneath it now struggled to be freed. Aisling tumbled out, his gold eyes going wild about the room to take in all of them. His beak clicked as he worked it in silence. Then, as the breaking of ice may bring a cascade of water from winter’s falls, the griffin’s voice—no longer that small shrill copy of Taryn’s, but his own true voice—poured plaintively from him. “Mom!”
Taryn jerked around, her mouth dropping open.
Aisling bounded toward her and she swept him up into a tight embrace. He clutched at her shoulders with his talons, burying his head under her chin, and cried, “Mom! Yoo…rrrrr…oh… kay!”
“Great gods,” Antilles heard himself say and he shot Tonka a startled glance. “He cannot be speaking?!”
The horseman merely smiled. “And why not?” he murmured, resettling himself on his padded bolster. “For has he not been a miracle from the very first?”
“You’re talking,” Taryn cried, true delight painting itself over the grief that had seemed to mask her since the dawning of this terrible day. She was radiant once more, burning with a joy and a healing light all its own as she hugged her griffin close. “Oh, my fierce prince! My big boy!”
“Yoo…rrrr…Ai-sing,” whispered the griffin. His raptor’s eyes flicked to Antilles and his naked wings fluttered. “Tilly.
Yoo…rrrr…sun-shy?”
Taryn giggled, her face pressed to fur.
“Aye, lad,” Antilles said, tossing his broken horn. “My sun and my moon and all my starry skies.”
He slipped an arm around his maiden’s shoulders, pulling her to him with Aisling between them. He closed his eyes, feeling all their heartbeats together. The pain of his body melted away. Tomorrow, there would be pain as all the hurts of his body took an account of themselves. Tomorrow, there must be labors as kraal-Rucombe acknowledged the damage done to it and sought once more to rebuild.
Tomorrow, there must be runners sent to all the peoples of his Valley 441
with word of the wizard’s death and the changes this must mean. But that was for tomorrow.
This was not the hour of his happy ending, but the wizard was gone from his holdings and his maiden was warm against his heart.
Tomorrow, the storms might return. Today, he knew only peace.
Look for Lords of Arcadia: Book III THE ROADS OF TARYN MACTAVISH
442
R. Lee Smith, The Wizard in the Woods
