Read Online Fire Hawk by Justine Dare Justine Davis - Free Book Online Page A

was dreaming. She must be, she told herself, although it was uncommonly vivid. But a dream it had to be, for here beside her sat the storyteller, his eyes glinting gold, his hair glinting silver in the firelight.
    “He keeps his heart well veiled, well protected. He is hiding, child.”
    She would speak to him, Jenna thought. That would prove that this was a dream; dreams were never sensible.
    “Hiding from what?”
    “Himself.”
    She blinked. He’d answered her. As if he were real, as if this were not a dream at all. She tried again.
    “But why?”
    “He has much to regret. Much to hate himself for. So he hides from the pain.” The storyteller looked inexpressibly sad for a moment. “But this means he must hide from the joy, as well. From everything.”
    She forgot for the moment that this was a dream, and spoke from her heart. “You speak truly. I have seen Kane’s eyes.”
    The storyteller nodded. “Then you know he is a man tortured by memories.”
    She studied the man for a silent moment. “If he is so tortured, why did you send me to him?”
    “You are the only one who can help him.”
    Jenna was suddenly reminded this was a dream. “Ah. There is the nonsensical turn I’ve been expecting. You have it backward, do you not? ’Tis Kane’s help I came seeking.”
    “Yes. But he needs yours as badly.”
    “Mine?” She stared. “What in the name of the heavens could I do to help such a man as Kane?”
    “You can give him salvation.”
    “I? How?”
    “He believes himself beyond redemption. You can show him it is not so. But you must be gentle with him.”
    “Gentle?” An image of Kane, tall, broad, powerful, rose in her mind. The idea of having to be gentle with him seemed ludicrous. But then, sitting here talking to an illusion was ludicrous. Yet it seemed so very real. . . .
    “He has so little faith left, in anything, but most particularly himself. ’Tis like a candle on a windy night, a very fragile light.”
    Jenna was becoming confused. And the tiniest bit suspicious. “You guided me here to help my people. Now you speak only of helping Kane.”
    “The one will result in the other.”
    “Make sense,” she said sharply. “Thus far I have seen no sign that either is about to happen.”
    “Did you ever wonder why a warrior like Kane would abandon all and retreat to these mountains?”
    “No. I know only that Kane wishes me gone, and has unreservedly refused to help us.”
    “He has too many ghosts haunting him, Jenna. He has caused the deaths of many, and they plague him ceaselessly. He has no wish to cause more. He will not fight again.”
    “But I want him to save lives!”
    “And how is he to do that, except by taking other lives?”
    “I—” She broke off, unable to counter that unerring logic. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
    Perhaps it wasn’t a dream; how could a dream made up of her own imaginings have produced something she had never thought of? She shook her head as the storyteller spoke again.
    “You thought only of the needs of you and yours, nothing of what it would cost Kane.”
    “But you told me he would help.”
    “Do not mistake me, child. I said he was the only one who could. ”
    He had always been annoyingly precise, Jenna thought. Except when he was being so mysterious nothing he said made sense. But he was right. She had only thought of the needs of her people, and nothing of what it would cost Kane. She hadn’t even thought of him as quite real, hadn’t thought of him as a man with any kind of feelings.
    Slowly, feeling a bit abashed, she asked, “What am I to do, then? You know that I will do anything, whatever I must. But what? If he is the only one who can help us, but he will not fight . . .”
    “He will not, because it would cost him what little remains of his soul.”
    Jenna sighed. “That is too much to ask of any man.”
    The storyteller looked oddly pleased. Then, almost briskly, he said, “Because he will not fight does not