Page 189 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Seemingly as one, we begin to walk towards the tent, but I stop, realising we just left our horses. Vaeril pauses, but I wave him on. “I just want to get something from my bag.” He frowns, but the two elves make their way to the tent. A couple of tribespeople are sorting our horses for us, but I didn’t want to leave my wayfinder in my bag. It’s not that I don’t trust them, but it’s one of my only possessions, and I cherish it. Thankfully, they haven’t taken my horse away yet, so I’m able to reach up and rummage through my bag until I find the small wrapped package. Smiling, I slide it into my pocket and stroke my horse’s neck. “Thank you for carrying me here.” Naril used to make fun of me for talking to my horse, but I know she listened to me, and right now, as she blinks her large eyes at me, I know she’s acknowledging my gratitude.

Turning, I go to make my way to the tent and see that Tor has joined some of the males who are gathered to the side.They obviously know each other and are greeting him fondly with smiles and claps on the back, which he returns, laughing at something one of them says. A smile appears on my lips as I watch him. It’s nice to see him with his own people. Not that Tor would ever say otherwise, but it must have been hard for him to be away from them, surrounded by strangers who are always watching and analysing his every move.Just like it has been for you your entire life,my mind whispers, but I push those thoughts away.

I pass just behind them, not wanting to interrupt him when he hasn’t seen his peers for such a long time, so I walk by quietly, reaching out to push past the hide entrance of the tent.

“Congratulations, Torsten.”

Something about the voice makes me pause. I know I shouldn’t be listening in, but my gut is insisting I need to hear this. “You found the lost child and brought her back to us when no one else could.”

The lost child? Does he mean me?Lifting my head, I look over to Tor to see he’s watching me, his eyes locked onto mine. The man at his side doesn’t seem to register the horrified expression Tor is wearing. He claps Tor on the back. “You will be hailed a hero in our tales. You will be made Chief of the Eternal Brothers for sure.”

“What?” I say before I can stop myself. The amount of hurt and pain in that one little word shouldn’t be possible, but somehow, there it is. Did he do all of this just so he could become chief of his tribe? Part of my mind is trying to argue with me that we don’t know the full story, that we don’t know who this ‘lost child’ is, that we should get the facts first, but pain wins out.

The look of guilt on his face also doesn’t help the situation as he starts towards me, reaching out as if to grab my shoulder. “Clarissa—”

I’m saved from having to make the decision of staying or fleeing by Chief Revna, who exits the tent and gives me an expectant look, which quickly turns into a frown as she takes in my expression. Sensing the tension between Tor and me, her frown deepens, and she glares pointedly at Tor but mercifully doesn’t ask what’s going on, merely gesturing for me to enter the tent. “Clarissa, come.” Her tone doesn’t leave room for argument, but I’m grateful for the excuse to escape.

“Clarissa,” Tor calls out again, but I don’t turn around, not really seeing the inside of the tent as I make my way to Vaeril’s side. Tor and Revna don’t follow immediately, and a small part of me worries that I’ve gotten him into trouble, but I have bigger worries right now. Finally taking in my surroundings, I see that Naril and Vaeril are seated in luxurious seats in a secluded, partitioned off part of the tent. There are several of these chairs, a couple of which are already taken by some of the tribesmen from outside who are speaking amongst themselves. They fall silent as I join them, all sitting forward as I take a seat between Vaeril and Naril, grateful they thought to leave a place for me there.

The atmosphere in the tent seems to shift, and when I look up, I see that the chief has entered and is making her way over, as Tor and the rest of the tribesmen who were still outside join us. Tor sees me sitting between the two elves, and there’s a flash of pain in his eyes before he nods and goes to take a seat next to Revna. I don’t want to admit how much that hurts me, but it feels like a divide has been put between us—usandthem.

There’s silence as Revna watches me, almost like she can’t quite believe I’m here, and honestly, I can’t either. I’ve been pinching my arm for the past minute and my skin is burning from the abuse I’m putting it through. Vaeril gently leans over and places his hand on my arm, stilling my movements andhiding my nerves, but of course the chief notices it, she notices everything.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” she begins, her eyes flicking up from Vaeril’s hand on my arm up to meet my eyes again. It’s an innocent enough statement, and she’s right, I do, but I notice that’s what it is—a statement, not a question. She’s not inviting me to ask questions, but right now, I don’t care, I’ve waited long enough.

“I want to know about my family.” Looking around the space, I try to see similarities of myself in those gathered here, but I just see imposing figures and tattoos in a language I don’t understand. Turning my attention back to Revna, I lean forward, my hair falling over my shoulder and spilling across my face. Frustrated, I brush the strands back, revealing my goddess mark in the process. “If you’re my aunt, who were you related to?”

There’s a pause as she eyes my mark, her eyes sparkling for a moment before she raises them to meet mine once more. “Your mother.”

Tor hinted as much in previous meetings, and this just confirmed my suspicions. “So, my mother was from the mountain tribes?”

“Yes, you were born here too, although not specifically in this tribe, but our home tribe, the Golden Hawks,” she explains, and a couple of the older tribespeople nod, one of whom is writing everything that is being said on a scroll, documenting our conversation.

“Me?” I’m not sure why I’m so surprised to learn that I was born in the mountains. My mother was, and that didn’t come as a surprise. I learned I was part elf, and I am on a personal mission from the Great Mother herself, so nothing should surprise me anymore. However, something about what she says regarding my birth rings true, and I remember seeing a goldenhawk flying overhead as we were arriving, like it was leading me home.

“Seeing as you have elvish companions, I assume you know of your elvish heritage? That your father was half-elf?” Revna queries from her seat, steepling her fingers together in front of her. I nod, and she returns my gesture with one of her own. “I don’t know much of your father, I only met him a handful of times, but he seemed kind, which is the only reason I didn’t kill him for making my sister pregnant out of wedlock.” I lean back in my seat at her fierce expression, feeling surprised. Had I expected their relationship to be a fairy tale, where they fell in love and got married? I already knew it didn’t end in a happily ever after.

“We take pregnancy out of marriage seriously here,” she warns, her eyes flicking to Vaeril who instantly bristles at my side. I have the urge to giggle, but I instantly push it down, now is not the time for that. “My sister was never happy here, she was always exploring and leaving the tribe. When she returned with a half-elf, your father, claiming that she loved him and was to be married, she was banished from our tribe.” There’s a hint of regret in my aunt’s voice, and I remember Tor telling me that he and the new leader of the tribespeople were trying to change things. Perhaps if she had been in charge when my mother was here, things might have been different.

Shifting in her seat, Revna’s eyes run over my face. “I didn’t see her for years after that. Then, one day, she returned, pregnant with you and in labour. She told me you were special, that it was vital you survived and knew the ways of the tribes. I helped her deliver you. You never cried once.” She pauses, her eyes glazed over as if caught up in the memory. “You were the most beautiful baby.” Her eyes clear before locking on me, and she smiles. Just as I’m about to return the smile, hers drops. “Then she disappeared with you. Over the years, she wouldreappear with you, stay a couple of days, and then go again. That’s when we started to realise you were different, and that’s also when we realised our prophecies and tellings from the gods were about you.”

Everything is silent, except for the scratching of the quill as the tribesman notes down our exchange, as I absorb what I’ve just learned. Where did we go when we weren’t with the tribes, and why don’t I remember my time with them?

“What happened to them?” If it was anyone else, I would need to explain that I’m asking about my parents, but she knows. She knows exactly why I’ve come here.

But she answers my question with another question. “What do you remember?”

Frowning, I grip my skirts slightly, hoping she’s not going to mess around with me by talking in circles. Vaeril and Naril shift slightly in their seats, feeling my frustration. “I have been a slave in Arhaven since the age of eight, I have no memories prior to that.” My frustration makes me snappier than I meant to be, but I’m surprised by their reactions.

Curses fill the space, and a large male at Revna’s side shakes his head. He looks a little older than her, possibly in his mid-fifties, with grey hairs speckling his dark beard. Tattoos cover almost every inch of his body. “Tor reported back something similar, but to hear that you were under our noses this whole time…”

A cold chill runs down my back, and I suddenly have the feeling I don’t want to know the answer. “What do you mean?” My voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to me any longer.

“The cruel reality of it is you probably would have seen each other many times before,” Revna murmurs, only making my confusion worse. Dread lines my stomach. Why won’t they just tell me? Why is she dancing around the subject? I already know my mother is dead, it can’t get any worse than that, right? Whywon’t they just tell me? “Whatever foul magic was used on the two of you…we will find out what it was and try to reverse it to reclaim your memories,” she continues, but at this point, I don’t care about why I don’t remember, I’ve had many theories over the years.

“What do you mean?” They’ve awoken that other part of me, the part I try to keep hidden, the dark, angry piece of me who was never allowed to be heard as a slave. Every time I felt angry or mad, or when something unjust happened, I put it away and let the anger simmer.

Well, right now, I’ve had enough.

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