Mercedes Lackey - Anthology Read Online Free Page B

Still, he had always known that he could
not stay hidden here forever. Perhaps it was time to make his move.
                 Nonetheless,
he insisted on separating the heifer they chose from the herd and driving her
up onto the fell before they made the kill.
                 They
had bled out the carcass and were hard at work on the hide when the first raven
arrived. Bui looked up, but it was not the white-spotted male he had been
expecting. This was a smaller, younger bird. It lit on a boulder, looking
around nervously, then extended its wings and flapped away.
                 "That's
right," Bui laughed. "Go call the others. There will be more than
enough for all.
                 They
heaved out the guts in a pile for the birds and continued the butchering.
                 Presently
a bird quorked from overhead and another answered it. Bui looked up and saw two
ravens circling, discussing the carcass with harsh cries. He stiffened, thinking
the territorial pair he had encountered the previous year were back, though he would have thought this kill out of their territory. Then the
male glided down, emitting three slow "knocking" calls, and he saw
the white spot on its tail. After a moment the female followed him.
                 Now
he could see the other birds, half a dozen tattered black shapes fluttering
across the sky. They swirled down in the wake of the first two, but as they
began to alight, the white-spotted male reared up, head feathers bristling
until they stood up on either side like two ears, and began to strut back and
forth, warning away the very birds whom the season before he had led against
the territorial pair.
                 For
a moment Bui stared, gut twisting as if he himself had been betrayed. Then he
ran toward them, waving his arms and yelling until all the birds had risen
squawking away. Torstein and Hogni watched open-mouthed, but Bui did not
explain.
                 That
night Bui dreamed. He was moving across the moor, and as he looked down he realized
that he was flying. A glance to either side showed him black wings. The
sensation was sufficiently novel that for some time he gave himself up to the
pleasure of exploring the capacities of this body, soaring and diving,
performing rolls and twists, dancing with the wind.
                 His
play was so absorbing that it took some time to realize that he was not flying
alone. Two larger ravens flew with him, one to either side.
                 Their
feathers shone like polished metal, but the light came from within. They drew
closer when they realized he had seen them.
                 "I
am Huginn—" said the first raven. "To know thy way is to know
thyself—"
                 "I
am Munnin—" said the second. "Remember. . . ."
                 Then
they soared ahead of him, movements matched until they seemed one being, whose
brightness merged, then blinded, so that he floated, without need or volition,
in the light. In that blind brilliance it seemed to him that he heard another
voice that spoke to him for some time. But when he opened his eyes at last to
the thin light of morning filtering into the cave, he could not remember the
words.
                 In
the morning, Hogni, who had decided he wanted to make a drinking horn, went
back to the carcass for one of the heifer's horns while Torstein and Bui stayed
at the shelter to prepare the meat for smoking. But the young Norwegian
returned much more quickly than he had gone.
                 "Douse
the fire!" he called, his face pale. "There
are men on the moor!"
                 As
they covered the fire and bundled their tools into the shelter, Hogni told his
tale. The farmfolk must have tracked the heifer. He had seen two men, circling
the carcass and gesturing. As always, the boys had brushed away their tracks,
but the carcass would still have shown the