Cowardice?
The song ended, and the human stood in silence. He waited within reach, a single nip would end his life's song, and he did not carry the power of the Old Blood. Yet he waited for his fate. If this was a coward, Khe'sha would prefer to never face a brave man.
The song ripped Khe'sha into pieces. One part mourned for his lost Sha'khe. One part glowed in admiration of the words, and of the courage they related. One part raged to bite and slash the treachery he'd heard. And a fourth part seethed at himself, for falling prey to the dark witch's plot.
{I have been told lies.}
The human flinched but held his ground. "Thus it happened. I've told you what I saw and did. Another would have seen another story. I can't tell that one."
{I have been told lies, but you are not the teller. I can smell truth when it stands trembling under my nose.}
The song shook his world to the core. The sun had risen in the east, for ages uncounted. Now it rose in the west. This human had slain Sha'khe, but he was not evil. He had done only what his fate forced him to do.
Khe'sha had forgotten that some humans and Old Ones held honor. It was so scarce in this land that he had not weighed it in the balance. Had not even thought it possible. He had not tasted honor since Liu Chen had knotted a net of lies to trap first Sha'khe and then Khe'sha into slavery to the Master.
{You had no choice. Sha'khe had no choice. There is no blood debt between us.}
But new blood debt had been hatched. Khe'sha had lived for revenge and for the nestlings. Now Shen had vanished, stolen from her mound. The others lay frozen in sleep or death, dead by the black witch's treachery and his own errors. He'd distrusted her from the first, grown to hate and fear her, but he'd obeyed her as a means to soothe an even fiercer hate. Now that lay quenched.
Keening grief built in his belly, as he followed his memories step by step through the twisted plotting of the black witch. Lies that walked the edge of truth, truth that fogged the boundaries of lie, the central truth that this man had slain Sha'khe -- without the second truth that he had followed a mate-bond as strong as any dragon's.
The greatest songs told of a battle between honorable enemies both driven by fate. Neither hero stepped aside because neither could.
Khe'sha lifted his nose to the sky, bellowing his grief and rage. The black witch had controlled him as perfectly as the Master ever had. She was evil. She must die.
His rage froze. She was evil, but she must not die. Not while there was a chance that the hatchlings merely slept. She had said that she tied their lives to hers. He doubted that she would lie in so clear a way.
As he cooled, the forest returned to him. The human lay huddled on the ground, hands pressed to his ears. A dragon's scream could deafen humans. Khe'sha blinked and lowered his head in shame. To steal hearing from a Singer, that would be a great evil in itself.
{Are you harmed?}
{We have protected him.} The voice spoke with the rustle of leaves in the wind, the slow whisper of roots sinking into stone, the murmur of water flowing clear in a forest stream. Khe'sha heard it and knew the voice of the Tree, the voice of the wildwood around him.
{The forest protects the one you call the red witch, protects all who den with her. The forest guided you to this meeting.} A small animal stepped out beside the Tree, red-furred and ears alert and much like the Master's hunting hounds in shape. {The name is "fox," I'll have you know, far superior to any dog. I'll forgive you, this one time.} Khe'sha thought that the "fox" was laughing at him.
The landslip and the falling trees, the tangled undergrowth too thick even for a dragon's strength -- he'd been herded to this glade under the ancient oak, not guided. The dark witch fought enemies she did not know or name, enemies of great power.
{The black-furred witch has passed to her doom. She will not return. Your duty lies elsewhere.}
Khe'sha sniffed his disbelief. {The dark one is strong and weaves deep plots. She has other allies. I must help to fight her, atoning for my error.}
Dry laughter rustled through the leaves of the oak. Khe'sha felt scorn beneath his feet and deep in the rocks. This forest did not fear the dark witch. It never had, even when the Master ruled it. What made her think she could attack now, when the forest loved its guardian?
{Your duty lies elsewhere. The one you call Shen passed through these woods, caged and injured, passed beyond to the lair of the black-furred one. The dark witch brews evil there, looking beyond this day's battle. More evil than she know. You and the Bard must end the cycle.}
Plots within plots within plots. The dark witch had confused the mercy of great strength for weakness. Mercy, or indifference. The red one knew her strength and the strength of her allies. She had tasted the strength of her enemies, and knew that. The wisdom of the Sages echoed in Khe'sha's head: "If you know yourself and know your enemy, you do not need to fear the outcome of a thousand battles."
The bard stirred, unwinding from his knot of fear and the knives of pain in his head. He sat up, at Khe'sha's feet. "Where is Jo? Where's Maureen?"
{Your mate finds safety in the keep. The Stone has need of her power, a task of healing that may bring healing of her own. The Steward fights other battles. The Tree guides her and strengthens her.}
"Which way is the keep? I have to find Jo. She needs me." The bard scrambled to his feet and
