Shadow Hand (Tales of Goldstone Wood Book #6)(23)

The thing that was Sun Eagle continued turning in place. Dragon poison. This mind was full of dragon poison.

Good. That is good. They—we—I can use a mind like this!

A bird sang, and the form of Sun Eagle spun about, teeth bared in warning, hand falling upon the hilt of a stone knife. No bird could be seen, however. Instead, there was yet another place of growing life, closer than the last, near enough that every detail could be seen, clear and sharp as only mortal eyes perceive such things. It was a mountain stream shielded by trees thick-laden with greenery and flowering vines. Smooth stones formed a natural bridge across the stream, and on the far bank sat a lad just verging on manhood, handsome and fresh faced, a little sad.

“She loved him.”

The thing that was Sun Eagle did not startle at this voice. Unlike the birdsong, this rough growl, agonized and dripping with fury, was expected.

Ah, it said, using Sun Eagle’s mouth, and it turned, using Sun Eagle’s body, to look upon the speaker. So you are what she’s hidden inside herself.

A red she-wolf crouched on the cracked and suffering ground of that barren landscape. Every muscle in her body tensed as though prepared to spring, to tear, to destroy. Such could never be, however, for she was chained. Each paw was secured in rusty manacles that tore into her flesh, and from each manacle stretched a short chain that fastened to a stake driven deeply into the earth. The wolf could no more escape than fly.

But she strained against her bonds, and when she strained, the world of Daylily’s mind quaked.

“She bound me,” said the wolf. Saliva dripped from her panting jowls.

Why? the thing asked with Sun Eagle’s mouth.

“She does not know what I will do should she let me free,” said the wolf.

And what will you do?

Here the wolf laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Why don’t you free me?” she asked. “Free me and find out!”

The thing inside Sun Eagle did not tremble, but the body itself took a step back. It was, after all, only mortal.

Just then, voices drew its attention back to the scene by the mountain stream. A girl was crossing the stream. She wore rich green and a bonnet askew on her bounty of red hair. She carefully lifted her skirts as she stepped from stone to stone and asked, “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” replied the memory of the boy on the bank. The wolf and the thing that was Sun Eagle watched the girl and the boy sit together and talk beside the cheerful water.

“She thinks of him often,” said the wolf.

Who is he?

“Lionheart.” The wolf sounded sad. “She thought she would marry him. She thought she would live happily ever after. She thought this place”—the wolf cast baleful eyes across the great expanse of loneliness—“would be green and thriving forever.”

The thing that was Sun Eagle watched through Sun Eagle’s eyes. Though the sky was dark, in this small corner of memory golden sunlight shone through the branches and sparkled on the water, growing brighter as the two young people talked.

Then a name was spoken: Rose Red.

As sudden as the snuffing of a candle, the sun went out. The girl with the red hair stood. “We’d best be on our way,” she said, and there was no sunlight in her voice anymore either. “I left Foxbrush in a bramble somewhere, and I doubt that he’s extracted himself. I don’t suppose you brought a pair of gloves?”

She recrossed the stream, and the lad followed. The moment they stepped into the desolate ground they, like the two distant riders before them, vanished. The thing watching from Sun Eagle’s eyes saw the stream thin until it was nothing but a slow, muddy gurgle.

She hates him now? the thing asked using Sun Eagle’s mouth.

“She would rend him to pieces,” said the she-wolf. “I would rend him to pieces.”


Now the stream was dry, the bed cracked with dust. Wasteland crept up and overwhelmed the greenery until all was gone, and that place of scenic serenity could not be told from the rest of the ruin.

“All the once living places of her mind vanish one by one,” said the she-wolf. “Soon there will be nothing left but me. And I am as you see me: trapped.”

The thing in Sun Eagle looked down at the wolf, considering. Does she want to free you? it asked.

“No!” The she-wolf snarled bitterly. “No, she wants to suppress me forever!”

We want her for one of ours. We have use for her.

At that, the wolf struggled to surge to her feet. She strained against the chains so hard that the ground shook, and the thing that was Sun Eagle staggered and nearly lost its balance. But the chains were fast to the ground, the links too short to allow any freedom of motion. The wolf fell back, and her four legs bled where the manacles bit.

Still she growled, spitting blood. “You’ll take her over my dead body!”

No.

The hand of Sun Eagle moved to his throat, touching the bronze stone on the cord around his neck. For a moment, one finger brushed the other stone, the blue one painted with a white flower. The body responded to this against the will of that inside it, shivering with a sudden thrill of passion and resistance. But the hand moved on and untied the cord on which the bronze stone was strung.

The creature within Sun Eagle knelt before the wolf and fastened the bronze stone around her neck.

No, it said. Over your bound body.