Hand of the Hunter

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next day, Hweilan stood before the falls. She had scrubbed the previous day's dirt and blood from her body, bound her hair in a tight braid with long strips of leather, and dressed in new clothes that Gleed told her Kesh Naan had made with her own hands. The clothes fitted close enough that Hweilan wouldn't snag them on branches and thorns, but they flowed over her skin, smooth as silk, so that she didn't feel in any way constrained. The red blade of Nendawen rested in a plain leather sheath at her hip, and Menduarthis's knife was tucked into one of the boots she had worn throughout her stay in the Feywild. The bone mask in which Ashiin's spirit rested rode on her other hip, in a special harness Gleed had made. She had a few supplies in the pouches on her belt and a pack on her back, nestled next to a quiver stuffed with new arrows. The bow she held in her hand.

Gleed stood beside her. "You still lack one thing, I am thinking," he said, "and I must confess I'm most surprised you haven't asked for it in all this time."

Hweilan looked down at the old goblin, and now that the time had come for farewells, she was surprised at the sudden affection she felt for him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Gleed reached into his robes and pulled out a curved bit of antler bound to a leather thong.

"My kishkoman," she said. Seeing it, memories flooded her mind-of her mother mostly-and Hweilan found herself fighting back tears as she took the whistle knife from Gleed.

"You have become something great," said Gleed, "but that doesn't mean you should forget where you came from."

"Thank you," she said, and surprised them both by kneeling and giving the old goblin a hug.

Gleed's ruddy skin took on a rich brown tone, and Hweilan realized the old toad was blushing. "You know the way out," he said, and pointed to the falls. "The portal works both ways. If you ever need a rest from hunting demons, come see your old teacher. We'll share a special drink beside my fire."

She laughed. "Your special drinks tend to end with me waking naked in the woods."

He smiled up at her, trying for mischief, but still looking sad.

"I will come back," she said. "If I can."

Gleed swatted in her direction, as if shooing a fly. "Get gone, you. You have work to do."

Hweilan turned and shouted, "Uncle! Come!"

"Why in the Nine Hells are you calling him Uncle?" said Gleed.

"He is my uncle, of a sorts," said Hweilan. "Brother of a distant grandmother, and blood brother to my distant grandfather."

"His name is Lendri."

Hweilan knew from the venom visions of the nature of the Vil Adanrath, and she knew that Lendri, like all his people, could take on the form of a wolf. Why he had returned from the dead as one, neither she nor Gleed were sure. But Hweilan suspected it was by choice. And until he decided to walk on two legs again and talk to her, she would not call him by his rightful name.

"He can't tell you the name, you know," said Gleed. "Not while he's… like that."

"True." Still no sign of him, so she called again, louder this time, then turned back to Gleed. "Why do you think he wouldn't tell my grandfather's name?"

Gleed shrugged. "Elves and goblins don't exactly have a loving history. He doesn't know me. He has no reason to trust me. Can't say I blame him."

She looked down at her old teacher. "You really think my mother's father can help me, when… if the time comes?"

"I think the same thing I thought the last time you asked me: There's something in you from somewhere else. Something the Master had not even suspected. If the time comes when you need to find out about that something else, your mother's father seems the most reasonable place to start, yes?"

Hweilan looked away, searching the nearby woods for any sign of the wolf. "If he'll tell me."

"I see no reason why he shouldn't tell you."

"When I asked him, he looked frightened."

Gleed thought on this awhile, then said, "We were walking the ghost path, Hweilan. Things there are not always what they seem."

Hweilan shrugged, conceding the point, but she was not so certain in her own mind. At the mention of her mother's father, Lendri had looked truly terrified, and she didn't think there was any mistaking that emotion in any world.

"Uncle!" she called again, loud as she could. Still nothing. She put the kishkoman to her lips. It had been so long since she'd last done this. It felt good to be doing it again. Even after all that had happened and after all she had become, this filled her with simple, honest pleasure.

She blew the whistle as hard as she could-so hard that a sharp pain filled her own ears. Gleed didn't even wince, she noticed.

From the woods came a howl. Less than half a mile away, she guessed.

"He's coming," she said.

Gleed actually bowed to her then, and there was no mockery in it. "The Blessing of the Forest Father, the Master of the Hunt, and all your ancestors be upon you, Hand of the Hunter."

Hweilan took out the drum and beat the rhythm to open the portal between worlds. It glimmered to life just as the wolf rejoined her, fresh blood staining his muzzle. Together, they stepped through the falls and left the Feywild.