The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [114]
He was just getting ready to go when a familiar voice called his name.
Fend.
He put an arrow on the string and peered around the corner. It was Fend, all right, with one of his Sefry companions and three beasts that would have looked something like a combination of wolf, horse, and man if they hadn’t been scaly.
Well, sceat, he thought. I should have kissed Winna good-bye.
“There you are,” Fend said brightly. “Somehow I just knew you would have to warn the villagers. I’m glad I was right. Bareback on a wairwulf is fast, but a little rough.”
Aspar drew back for the shot, but then he felt something sharp prick him in the back.
“No,” a soft voice said.
Aspar lowered the weapon, then dropped it. In the same motion he let his palm hit the hilt of the feyknife.
It was only half-drawn before another hand caught his, and then an arm came around his neck. Snarling, he stomped back with his heel, hoping to break an ankle or knee, but he was suddenly on the ground with his face pressed in the dirt, one arm twisted behind his back, and a shin on his neck. He felt the dagger slide out of its sheath and then the ax come out of his belt. Then his arm was released, and the pressure vanished.
He came back to his feet, but the fellow had backed away, carrying his arms.
“I’m not here to kill you, Aspar,” Fend said. “At least not right away. We need to talk, you and I.”
“Everyone wants to talk to me today,” Aspar said, trying to keep his rage bottled so that he could think. What was Fend playing at?
“Yes, but I have to manage to talk to you without one of us killing the other, which is quite a trick.”
“I don’t see what we have to talk about,” Aspar said.
“About this whole thing,” Fend replied. “There’s no reason for us to fight.”
“Really? What about that business back at the bridge?”
“Not much of a chance for talking, was there? Your friends just charged us. Didn’t you expect us to fight back?”
“You’ve been chasing me.”
“Yes and no. After the battle at the Witchhorn, I sent some of my servants out to hunt you. I wasn’t with them until just before the fight at the bridge the other day. Things have changed. I no longer mean you any harm.”
“Last time we met, you tried to bloody execute me. If it hadn’t been for Leshya, you would have. Now you expect me to trust you?”
“You and I have taken turns trying to kill each other for twenty years, Aspar. I’m sure neither of us really remembers why.”
“Sceating saints, Fend; you killed my wife.”
“Fine, I guess you do remember. But it wasn’t anything personal; I didn’t do it to spite you. I always rather liked you, Dirt.”
Aspar flinched at the old nickname but tried not to let it show.
“What do you want, Fend?” he asked.
“The same thing you want.”
“And what is that?”
“To find the Vhenkherdh and restore life to the world. To make a new Briar King.”
That was so ridiculous that Aspar felt as if he were choking. The words wouldn’t come out for a moment.
“You murdered the Briar King, you sceat!” he finally managed.
“Well, yes—but he was quite mad. He was going to bring back the forest, sure, but he was also going to kill us all. He wasn’t the Briar King we needed.”
“Oh, I wat not. What sort do we need, then?”
“Your child, Aspar. Your child can be the new Briar King—or Queen, I suppose, if it’s a girl. You’re already geosed to take her there; I’m just here to help.”
“My child?”
“I know Winna’s carrying your baby, Aspar. The witch knew it when you met her. Your child can heal the world; isn’t that what you want? To fix your precious forest?”
“I do. I just don’t believe you do. And I don’t trust the Sarnwood witch. I know where the monsters come from, Fend. I know they’re born from normal animals touched by the poison in the world, the poison your beasts spread around. Winna was sick from the woorm. Grim’s balls, the woorm you were riding. That means there’s a monster in there. Now, why would the Sarnwood witch want one of her monsters to be the new lord-o’-the-forest?”
“To heal the world. To take the poison out of it, to make it so her