Llor sniffled into her neck, and Erian was clinging to her so tightly that Naelin felt her fingers pressing deep into her skin, bruising her, but she didn’t care. She held her close.
“Mama, you came for us!” Erian said.
“I knew you’d come!” Llor said. “I said so!”
“I didn’t believe it,” Erian declared. “I thought you wouldn’t come to look for us, because you’d think we were dead. No one survives the untamed lands. Everyone knows that. I thought we’d be trapped here forever, until we did die.”
Llor buried his face against her again. “Bayn wouldn’t bring us home.”
Naelin held them close. “I came. I’m here. We’ll never be apart again.” She felt relief and joy—pure joy—spilling out of her, flooding the spirits, and felt it mirrored back. Around her, the earth exploded in life: flowers blossoming over the face of the rocks, trees bursting between the crevasses thickening as they shot toward the sky. She heard the rushing of water and felt sunlight flood their faces as her spirits drove back the haze and filled the land in a ring around them with life, teeming with a riot of colors.
Beyond it, she felt the spirits of the untamed lands drawing closer. She felt their hostility, scratching at the edges of their circle of overabundant life, and she shuddered and hugged her children and Ven closer. No. The outside world couldn’t intrude yet. This was her moment of joy, a moment she’d never thought she’d have. She didn’t want it to end.
“The villagers said Bayn couldn’t bring you home—he couldn’t cross the border,” Ven said, laying one hand on Erian’s shoulder and another on Llor’s. “But we can. And we will.”
Naelin turned to Bayn. “Thank you for saving them.”
The wolf sat, with his tail curled beside him, watching them with his yellow eyes. He made a doglike whining noise.
“What is it?” Ven asked, as if he expected Bayn to answer.
At his question, the wolf rose and trotted into the cave.
“What’s in there?” Naelin asked Erian and Llor.
“A dead body,” Llor said. “It’s kind of neat.”
That was not an appropriate thing to say about a dead body. And why were her children staying in a cave with a corpse anyway? “I’m a terrible mother,” Naelin murmured.
“You came,” Erian said simply, hugging her waist as she stood.
Ven drew his sword.
“You won’t need that,” Llor said. “She’s already dead. Come on, we’ll show you.” He scrambled ahead of them, over the rocks.
Naelin felt as if a coat had been ripped away from her on a winter day—suddenly cold, a little bereft, the moment that she was no longer touching both her children. Following Llor and holding on to Erian, who didn’t seem to want to let go of her hand either, Naelin climbed over the rocks up to the opening of the cave. Together, they entered.
Shadows enveloped them, and Naelin called on two small fire spirits to light the way—but her fire spirits balked at the entrance, their glow only shedding a faint light into the darkness.
It didn’t matter, though, because ahead a light bobbed as Llor came trotting back to them, carrying a torch.
“Careful with that,” she admonished as the flame dipped back and forth.
“I can carry it,” Llor said. “I’m careful.”
“He burned himself this morning,” Erian reported.
“Be more careful,” Naelin said.
Excitedly, Llor grabbed Ven’s hand and pulled him deeper into the cave. Naelin and Erian followed. She felt a breath of wind in her face, and the cave opened onto a chamber of glittering white—smooth quartz that sparkled from the light of seven torches plus Llor’s. Llor placed his into a holder on the wall.
In the center of the room was a raised black stone pallet, and on it lay moss, curved in the shape of an unusually tall and large woman. Tiny white flowers grew on her body from the moss. Naelin took a step forward. The enormous woman’s eyes were closed with black stones over each one, and her hands were folded on her stomach.
Naelin shivered. There was an oddly familiar feel to this place. She thought of the Queen’s Grove in Aratay. Rock surrounded them, not trees, but there was something about it that felt similar. It had a sense of heavy silence.
“Who is it?” Ven asked.
“The Great Mother of Spirits,” Erian said.
Both Naelin and Ven stared at Erian, then at the mossy body. This was the being who had created them all? No wonder the cave feels like a grove, Naelin thought. It was a sacred place . . . the sacred place.
Naelin instinctively pulled her children closer to her. She reached out with her mind and touched her spirits, but they were distracted: the spirits of the untamed lands surrounded them, pressing closer, squeezing them up against the rock of the cave.
“The villagers want a queen, and Bayn was supposed to find one,” Llor said, piping up from within the circle of her arms. “At least, that’s what they said when Bayn brought us here.”
“They said we have to stay with the Protector,” Erian said, “until a queen comes.”
“And they said Bayn was gone for a hundred years!” Llor threw his hands out wide when he said the word “hundred.”
“Two hundred,” Erian corrected.
“Three hundred!” Llor shouted. “Four hundred!”
“Anyway, it didn’t sound very likely,” Erian said to Naelin and Ven.
Out of the corner of her eye, Naelin saw Ven shift onto the balls of his feet. He looked ready to fight. But who would he fight? Bayn, who had saved Erian and Llor from Queen Jastra’s spirits? Softly, Naelin asked, “Bayn, is it true? Are you from here? Did you come to Renthia to find . . . me? Or someone like me?”
Bayn trotted over to the bier and sat beside it.
Maybe that was his answer. But I’m not sure what it means. “The people in the village,” Naelin pressed. “Did they send you into Aratay?”
The wolf tilted his head.
“Did you send yourself?” Ven asked.
Bayn looked deliberately into Ven’s eyes and nodded, humanlike, as if he’d understood every word. He then laid his head on the mossy hand and let out a puppylike whimper.
Ven’s voice was flat. Naelin wondered what he was thinking. “You went to find a queen—the villagers said they’d been awaiting your return with a queen,” he said. “Like Naelin. But then you were chased back here . . . and you couldn’t return?”
“Bayn saved us,” Llor said.
“I know, sweetie,” Naelin said.
“Then why does Ven look so mad?”
He was right—Ven had half drawn his sword, though Bayn had not twitched a muscle other than to move his head. In the glow from the torches, the wolf’s eyes flickered yellow.
“Because Bayn had other reasons for being with us and being nice,” Erian said. “He wanted Mama. Because the people in the village wanted her. Or someone like her.”
Llor frowned. “The people are nice. They gave us food.”
“I came here for my children, that’s all,” Naelin said to Bayn. She was grateful they were alive and had been taken care of. It was more than she’d ever dreamed possible. But this little adventure was over. “And now that I’ve found them, it’s time to go home.”
Please, let us go.
Ven slid between her and the wolf. They began to back out of the cave.
Bayn darted across the cave, past them, and then stopped in front of them, filling the entrance to the cave. He crouched, his legs tense. Naelin corralled Erian and Llor behind Ven. Sword raised defensively in front of them, Ven advanced. “I don’t want to hurt you, old friend. And I know you don’t want to hurt us. All we want is to get these children safely home.”
For one terrible moment, Naelin thought they’d fight.
But then Bayn bowed his head. Dropping to the cave floor, he rolled and exposed his throat. “Thank you, my friend,” Ven said. He sheathed his sword, and Naelin followed him with the children past the wolf.
Once they were past, Bayn got to his feet and let out a mournful howl.
With a cry, Llor broke from of Naelin’s grip and ran back to Bayn. “Llor, no!” Naelin cried. She grabbed for him, but he was too quick.