Read Online Return by Peter S. Beagle; Maurizio Manzieri - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter S. Beagle; Maurizio Manzieri
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of the cuts were at all deep—you would not be able to see them today, save that the third Hunter then poured a thin gray-green liquid, which vanished as it touched the skin over my chest. As the Hunter did this, Master Caldrea began to sing, but not as he had done before. The melody was as simple as a child’s counting rhyme, and as adhesive. I could sing it for you today, but I have never met anyone who could recite the words, or tell me what they meant.
But a very strange thing happened to me with that song. Master Caldrea repeated it several times, and as each line left his lips, something left me, for all the world like a bird flying out of my body—perhaps through the little wounds left by the silver knife—and vanishing into the wind. And this, for whatever reason, pained me far worse than the cutting itself had done. I think I cried out, as I had not done even when the Hunter was beating me. I know I cried out.
“Hush, my friend,” Master Caldrea said gently, each time I gasped or whimpered with loss. “Hush, it is no more than giving back what never belonged to you—the energy, the spirit, the little part of every Hunter you ever murdered. There… there… now it is free of you, all of it, all you took—can you catch even a glimpse, before it rejoins the Tree, where it belongs? This beloved Tree, that you have injured so cruelly?” The Hunters around me made a low sound that I would not like to hear again, and crowded closer, if that was possible. Master Caldrea waved them back, but they paid him no head.
“But the Tree forgives,” he continued, spreading his arms, as though to embrace me. “The Tree welcomes you.” Abruptly he plucked the trimoira from my belt with one hand, smeared a streak of blood from my chest on the other, and turned to the third Hunter, who knelt and bowed his head. Master Caldrea marked his forehead and cheekbones with my blood, and murmured five or six words that I could not catch. Then he stepped back, and the Hunter rose.
“It ends here.” Master Caldrea’s voice was perfectly cool and sane. “Not for him—not just yet, for he can only sacrifice himself after your blood has soaked into the roots of the Tree, and your soul has already gone to nourish it. Then he will die, on this same dagger, to seal the bargain—do you begin to see, Soukyan? Do you see?” I made no response, and the Hunter waited, his face striped gold and blue-black in the firelight..
“And the Tree will die too,” Master Caldrea said. “Die, and be reborn, mightier than ever, with his blood to guard it, and your soul, your self , prisoned within it. What Hunters will be born of this new Tree? What power and influence will return to our House through them? You will know it better than anyone, Soukyan, and I meant it when I said I envied you. Fare well on your far journey.”
I struggled, but of course it did no good; there were too many of them, dragging me further toward the Tree, whose roots appeared to rear themselves higher in eagerness to receive my blood. Master Caldrea stepped back and raised the dagger, while the third Hunter moved to my side and gripped my hair, hauling my head back to expose my neck for Caldrea’s blow…
…and then froze, as a scream like a rock- targ raped by a lightning stroke tore the night air, and Master Caldrea, along with every Hunter, every monk—everyone but me, my head being held so tightly—turned to see Brother Laska bearing down on us, brandishing his antique sword that I had never imagined he could swing, even with both hands. He was almost upon the Hunters by the time I finally pulled free, and his face was a mask of insane fury. I had to duck myself as the wind of the blade rumpled my hair. Even the Hunters did not move immediately to close with him; they, like everyone else, scattered in all directions to be out of range of that Corcorua two-hander.
Brother Laska was still shrieking his challenge as I caught up the trimoira dagger from where
But a very strange thing happened to me with that song. Master Caldrea repeated it several times, and as each line left his lips, something left me, for all the world like a bird flying out of my body—perhaps through the little wounds left by the silver knife—and vanishing into the wind. And this, for whatever reason, pained me far worse than the cutting itself had done. I think I cried out, as I had not done even when the Hunter was beating me. I know I cried out.
“Hush, my friend,” Master Caldrea said gently, each time I gasped or whimpered with loss. “Hush, it is no more than giving back what never belonged to you—the energy, the spirit, the little part of every Hunter you ever murdered. There… there… now it is free of you, all of it, all you took—can you catch even a glimpse, before it rejoins the Tree, where it belongs? This beloved Tree, that you have injured so cruelly?” The Hunters around me made a low sound that I would not like to hear again, and crowded closer, if that was possible. Master Caldrea waved them back, but they paid him no head.
“But the Tree forgives,” he continued, spreading his arms, as though to embrace me. “The Tree welcomes you.” Abruptly he plucked the trimoira from my belt with one hand, smeared a streak of blood from my chest on the other, and turned to the third Hunter, who knelt and bowed his head. Master Caldrea marked his forehead and cheekbones with my blood, and murmured five or six words that I could not catch. Then he stepped back, and the Hunter rose.
“It ends here.” Master Caldrea’s voice was perfectly cool and sane. “Not for him—not just yet, for he can only sacrifice himself after your blood has soaked into the roots of the Tree, and your soul has already gone to nourish it. Then he will die, on this same dagger, to seal the bargain—do you begin to see, Soukyan? Do you see?” I made no response, and the Hunter waited, his face striped gold and blue-black in the firelight..
“And the Tree will die too,” Master Caldrea said. “Die, and be reborn, mightier than ever, with his blood to guard it, and your soul, your self , prisoned within it. What Hunters will be born of this new Tree? What power and influence will return to our House through them? You will know it better than anyone, Soukyan, and I meant it when I said I envied you. Fare well on your far journey.”
I struggled, but of course it did no good; there were too many of them, dragging me further toward the Tree, whose roots appeared to rear themselves higher in eagerness to receive my blood. Master Caldrea stepped back and raised the dagger, while the third Hunter moved to my side and gripped my hair, hauling my head back to expose my neck for Caldrea’s blow…
…and then froze, as a scream like a rock- targ raped by a lightning stroke tore the night air, and Master Caldrea, along with every Hunter, every monk—everyone but me, my head being held so tightly—turned to see Brother Laska bearing down on us, brandishing his antique sword that I had never imagined he could swing, even with both hands. He was almost upon the Hunters by the time I finally pulled free, and his face was a mask of insane fury. I had to duck myself as the wind of the blade rumpled my hair. Even the Hunters did not move immediately to close with him; they, like everyone else, scattered in all directions to be out of range of that Corcorua two-hander.
Brother Laska was still shrieking his challenge as I caught up the trimoira dagger from where
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