Page 196 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

The painted chief, Ragnar, turns his attention back to the high chief. “Do you have any proof?”

Revna’s eyes go cold as she stares down at him, taking a threatening step forward, and I’m suddenly reminded there’s a reason she was elected high chief. “Do you doubt me, Ragnar?” All around us, I see hands go to weapons at their waists, waiting on the word from their chief and the painted man would be cut down before he could even blink. However, even in the short time I’ve known my aunt, I understand that’s not how she wants to lead.

“Ragnar,” the tall chief speaks again with a frown, his expression making it clear he doesn’t approve of the man’s behaviour. “You never met the girl as a child. There were signs, even then.” He turns to face me now, and something kind shines in his eyes. “The goddess favoured her.” Although I have no memories of ever meeting this man, I have the strangest feeling— the same I had when I met my aunt for the first time—that somehow, I knew him.

“Erik is right,” Tor agrees, releasing my shoulder and stepping up to my side so we are arm to arm, facing the chiefs together. “This is her. I knew it as soon as I saw her.” He glances at me, and there’s a look in his eyes like he’s asking forpermission.Am I ready for everybody to know?We weren’t going to announce to everyone about our connection just yet, not while all of the tribes were here and they were still getting used to the idea of me having an elf for a mate. We weren’t quite sure how they would take me having several mates. It doesn’t take me long to come to a conclusion, but seeing him here surrounded by his people, I know how much it would mean to him for me to accept him as my mate.

Nodding my head, I return his smile as it spreads across his face. It’s impossible not to, his happiness is infectious. Returning his attention to the chiefs, he tries to make his expression more formal, but he struggles to contain his smile completely, which pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Ematusformed between us. It is fated.”

Ragnar growls low in his throat as he takes a menacing step towards me, but that’s all it is. He’s not going to hurt me, this is all about intimidation. My friends, however, don’t appreciate this. A rush of wind and the flutter of the feathers in my hair is what alerts me to the elves’ presence. Glancing to my left, I see a scowling Vaeril, and beyond him is a crouching Eldrin, who is growling.

He came.Pushing the frenzied thought aside, I notice thaton his other side is a very bored-looking Naril, but I can see from his stance that he’s ready to move in a second’s notice and is keeping a close eye on his feral twin. Tentatively reaching out for our bond, I’m relieved to find that although angry, Vaeril is fully in control right now. The last thing we need is for a fight to break out between the elves and the tribespeople.

“Look, at the first sign of trouble her elves jump in to save her,” Ragnar shouts with disdain, gesturing at us again, his other hand tightly gripping the handle of his hammer which I know he’s eager to use. “She knowsnothingof our ways!”

“That can be taught,” a familiar voice calls from the crowd. Turning, I see Vida stepping forward, and a couple of her fellow stone keepers whom she had been standing with nod in agreement. “She knows the ways of the goddess.” As one of those who dedicates her life to the care of the sacred meeting place, people trust her words and look to her like they would a priest back in Arhaven. I would put far more faith in Vida than I would in the corrupt human priests, however, and I’ve only known her less than two weeks.

Somehow, I need to convince them that I belong here. Tor and Revna thought blood and history alone would be enough, but I know action and strength is what these people value. Looking inside myself, although I can always see it, I search for all the things Vaeril, Tor, and Grayson value about me, the reasons the Mother picked me. That is what I need to show them. Taking a steadying breath, I step forward, and knowing my companions are behind me helps strengthen me.

“I know you don’t know me, and I know your first impression of me was that I brought a fight to your door.” My words are met by silence, and I turn from the chiefs so I can address those gathered, praying to the Mother that my voice stays steady. “My only memories are of slavery. But I survived when others didn’t, and I put that down to the mix of elvish and fierce mountain tribe blood pounding through my veins.” There are some cheers at the mention of ‘fierce mountain tribe blood,’ which brings a quirk to my lips, but I keep going. “Whenever I felt like giving up, curling into a ball and succumbing to the pain, something in the back of my mind would demand that I get back up and keep going with one foot in front of the other, and Iknowthat was because of the warrior’s heart in my chest.” I turn to the chiefs, knowing that, ultimately, it’s them I need to convince. “So I may not know your customs, I may not know how to fight like you orthe best way to catch and skin a mountain hare, but I know how to survive, and that’s not something you can teach.”

“The girl is right,” a deep voice agrees, making me shudder. It’s the kind of timbre that sounds like it belongs to someone who doesn’t speak often, and as I find the owner of the voice, I shudder again. He’s another one of the chiefs, but like Eric, he is thinner than the average tribesman. However, unlike the giant chief, this man looks lethal, every inch the predator. His braided hair and eyes are dark, and almost every inch of his skin is tattooed, making him blend in with the shadows.

Ragnar frowns at his fellow chiefs, and I can tell this is not going how he imagined. His eyes dart over to me, narrowing as his expression twists into something bitter. “You need all twelve chiefs to agree to induct her, to reverse the banishing.” While I may be able to convince the others, there is nothing I can do to convince this man. Tor’s low growl at my side confirms it, and I feel a flicker of fear as a thought occurs to me, remembering what he had told me about the challenge. He wouldn’t challenge Ragnar to make him agree, would he?You know he would.Ragnar isn’t the chief of his tribe for nothing. Besides, he looks lethal, I wouldn’t trust him to make it a clean fight. My eyes widen as Tor takes a step forward, dread lining my stomach.No! Think, Clarissa, you have to do something.

Stalking forward, Ragnar completely ignores Tor and keeps walking until he’s almost pressed right up against me. He’s trying to intimidate me, but I hold my ground no matter how much I want to step back. “I do not recogniseClarissaas one of us,” he sneers into my face, and Vaeril starts to move, but I hold out a hand, resting it gently on his chest, and he instantly stills. Ragnar watches with a disgusted expression but doesn’t stop his little speech. “And it’s an offence that she bears our marks on her skin.”

With speed almost as fast as an elf, he grabs my tattooed arm, a dagger glinting in his free hand. Several people cry out, but it’s like they’re moving in slow motion as the blade comes down and slashes over my skin, cutting across my tribal tattoo. Pandemonium ensues. Jerking my arm away, I stumble back in shock, my elves converging around me while a snarling Eldrin and Tor restrain the painted chief.

“It used to be an honour to get our tribe marks, and now it seems that anyone can waltz into camp and be given them!” he shouts, spittle leaving his mouth as he tries to break free. I can barely hear myself think as tribespeople bellow and howl their disgust, either at me receiving my tattoo or at his sudden attack on me, I can’t tell.

A sudden wave of anger so fierce it physically knocks me to my knees surges through my body. Except it’s not my anger.

That is enough!

My wrist glows so brightly it hurts to look at it, and as the Mother shouts in my head, I’m suddenly aware of everyone falling to their knees, watching me with expressions of fear, glee, reverence, and devotion.

I feel different, powerful in fact. It’s almost like I’m having an out of body experience as I get to my feet and look down at the cowering people around me with a strange sense of detachment. Even Tor and the elves are bowing, wearing varying expressions of wonder on their faces. Magic rolls over my skin, and all pain and weariness disappear, the presence of the Great Mother stronger than I’ve ever felt before. Joy fills my soul at being so close with my goddess, and I feel her caress in acknowledgement of my devotion, but there’s a reason she’s here, and I shrink away from her simmering wrath. The Great Mother is barely in control of her fury, she’s on a warpath.

My head turns, scanning the kneeling tribespeople before us. Raising my arm and seeing the blood dripping from the cut, myeyes narrow and the dam that’s holding back that fury breaks. It suddenly occurs to me that I’mnot in control of my body right now, but only a vessel for the goddess.

“How dare you mark my beloved?”Although it’s my mouth and my voice saying the words, it sounds nothing like me. The power behind it makes the hair on my arms stand on end. The mountains tremble around us, and several people cry out in fear, calling out to the goddess for mercy. Although I know this is aimed at Ragnar, she continues to look around at all those gathered as she speaks.

“You doubt me, your goddess?”She doesn’t shout, yet her voice seems to carry, her disapproval clear in every word. “Your faith in me weakens, which is why I sent Clarissa to you. Yet that is still not enough, you require constant proof.” My voice deepens, and although it’s still early morning, the sky seems to darken around us, clouds forming out of nowhere. The land falls silent. Birds fly back to their nests, their songs muted, and even the wind seems supressed, the sound of the breeze blowing through the tall grasses absent. With a snap of my fingers, we turn to face the painted chief as sound suddenly returns. When he attacked me, he’d been dragged a few steps away, but we now close the distance until we are looking down at him where he kneels on the rocky ground.

A wave of the Mother’s almighty magic rolls over him, and I see his eyes widen and his body shake as he comes to the realisation of what’s happening. “Is this proof enough for you, Ragnar?” The venom in the goddess’ tone makes him wince, and frankly, I don’t blame him.

Dipping his head in a show of respect, he looks back up and meets my eyes. “Yes, mighty Shea. Please accept my apologies.” We pause for a moment as we regard the painted chief, and although his hands are still quivering, he keeps eye contact with us the whole time. A hum of approval goes through me, and I getthe impression the Mother thinks his apology is genuine. Does she trust him not to try and hurt me again?

I do, my beloved, she whispers to me.He wouldn’t dare harm you again, I can see his intentions.Her voice fades from my mind as she turns her attention back to the watching tribes. Her eyes land on each of the chiefs, and she nods her head slightly when she meets the high chief’s gaze.

“There is a great evil infecting the land, and my beloved will need your support if you are all to survive this,” the Mother addresses everyone, her voice carrying once again, and I can feel magic in the air which explains how she’s doing it. Murmurs sound from the watching tribespeople, and there’s a sudden rumble of thunder overhead in the gathering clouds, effectively quieting them.“The future is bleak if she is to fail her task, so it benefits you all to aid her in this.”Face grave, I look around the crowd again, my eyes landing on certain people, and from their shocked expressions, I get the impression they had been having doubts. Somehow, the goddess knew and was able to find them in the throng. Finally, with a deep sigh, I look back to Revna, the high chief, and walk over to her, holding out my hand for her to take. Still kneeling, she reaches up and places a kiss on the back of my hand, beaming brightly up at me. Smiling down at her, I cup her cheek gently before turning and addressing the rest of the tribespeople once more. “Do not disappoint me.”

As everyone mumbles assurances and praises, they lean forward, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

You did well, my beloved, the Motherwhispers in my mind, her voice suddenly little more than a breath of wind. At that moment, I regain control of my body as the Mother leaves me, and I collapse to the ground.

Arms catch me before I land on the hard, rocky terrain, and I’m instantly surrounded by familiar faces. Voices call out, but they all blur into one. A wave of bone aching fatigue washes overme, making my eyelids heavy, as if my energy has suddenly been depleted.

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