Tariel Kavtaradze's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Tariel woke at the altar with the moss still on their coat. The covenant was sealed. Now they had to speak it aloud, so the tribe would hear their new voice and trust the bond. Tariel opened their mouth to call the people together. No sound came. The spirit realm had taken their voice. Tariel pressed a hand to their throat. Their lips moved. Nothing. Outside, the tribe waited by the frost-covered grove. They expected words. A shaman who could not speak could not lead. Tariel drummed on the altar, desperate, hoping the sound would summon help. The air near the carved wood went cold. Two shapes stepped from the shadow between the trees. Their hair moved like smoke. Their feet were twisted roots that dragged along the frozen floor. Tariel knew them at once. The dread spirits. Morratha Voidroot smiled with a mouth too wide. Umbra's eyes burned gold. "Your voice was sweet," Morratha said. "We drank it on your way out of our forest." "A shaman with no words," Umbra added. "The tribe will cast you out by dark." Tariel reached for the drum again. It was useless. The sisters circled closer, feeding on their fear. Then a boy stepped out from behind the altar. White hair, long rabbit ears, a torn tunic. He grinned like he owned the room. Tariel had healed his broken body once, when he was still a hare with a snapped leg. Clover Quickfoot, the hare spirit, come back in the shape of a child. "Ladies," Clover said, hopping onto the altar. "You stole a shaman's voice. Bold. But you don't know what you're holding." Morratha hissed. "It is ours now." "Is it?" Clover crossed his arms. "That voice is bound to a covenant. Swallow it whole, and every word Tariel swore binds to you instead. Their debts. Their season-vows. Their tribe to feed and guard. Forever." Umbra's gold eyes flickered. "You lie, hare." "Maybe." Clover shrugged. "Test it. Keep the voice one more hour. See what roots itself in you." He leaned close. "Or spit it back and stay free." The sisters looked at each other. Root-feet shifted on the cold floor. They fed on freedom, not on chains. Morratha's smile fell. She opened her wide mouth. A pale thread of warmth spilled out and flew back into Tariel's throat like a swallowed breath. The sisters recoiled from the boy and sank into the shadow between the trees. Gone. Tariel coughed. Sound scraped free. "My voice," they said, and the words rang clear. Clover laughed. "They never could resist a wager." He hopped down. "You owe me, shaman. I don't forget that either." Then he was gone too. Tariel stood. Outside, the tribe still waited. Tariel walked to the door and called them by name. Their voice carried across the grove, strong and whole. The people came. Now they would hear the covenant spoken at last.