Shield of the Sky By Susan Krinard Philokrates’ Map of the Known World Prologue Forbidden. It was a word Rhenna had heard seldom in her childhood. Until she was six, she had gazed at the snow-capped peaks of the Shield of the Sky and known the great mountains only as protectors, home of devas, guardians of the lands of the Free People that stood in their shadow. But when she reached the age of first testing and the Earth-speakers found that she bore no special gifts to belie her common parentage, she was taken to the foot of the Shield by her mother's sister and told what she must never do. "The Shield is forbidden to you," said the blacksmith, whose arms were broad as oak branches. "Only the Chosen climb the hills, at the appointed time, to meet with the Ailuri." Many years passed before Rhenna knew what her aunt had meant by her cautious words, the small warning gestures and averted gaze. Pantaris was afraid of nothing, not longtooth cats nor brutal steppe storms nor barbarian raiders. Yet her aunt's warning burned deep, scarring her with curiosity, and Rhenna could not remember a day since when she had not looked up at the Shield and longed to discover its secrets. Today is the day. Rhenna shifted in her crouch behind the boundary stone and gazed up the broken slope over which her sister had passed. The world had altered much in fourteen years. Pantaris's hair had gone gray as the iron in her forge, and Rhenna no longer saw the world with the eyes of green youth. Her arms were strong, her aim true, her skill respected among the Sisterhood. She wore her brown hair in the braids of a woman grown. Only her desire had not changed. No one would believe that the devas spoke to her—yes, even to a mere warrior—that they came as breaths of air or gentle breezes or howling winds, wordless and strange. Always they bade her look to the mountains. Now Rhenna, daughter of Klyemne, Sister of the Axe, gazed upon the path of the Chosen and knew she would risk everything to see that which was forbidden. She glanced behind her, past the carved axe handle that stood over her shoulder. The others had all gone: the sisters and aunts and mothers weeping at the honor bestowed upon their kin; the Earthspeakers who presided over the ceremony of leave-taking; the warriors standing guard as they had always done, silent and stolid. Not one of them had seen Rhenna linger. Even if they had, they would not have guessed her purpose. It was unthinkable. Inconceivable. Forbidden. She lightly touched each of her weapons, whispering a prayer for luck, and removed them one by one. First was the great double-bladed axe, which she laid on the bear pelt she had spread beside the stone. Her gorytos, the side quiver with its precious burden of bow and short arrows, joined the axe. Then came the belt knife, longtooth-hilted, and both of her boot daggers. Last of all she removed her cap. She folded the leather neatly atop the pelt and unbraided her hair, letting it fall loose about her shoulders. Kneeling beside the pelt, Rhenna chanted the song of preparation for battle. She touched her forehead to the boundary stone and begged its favor, spread her fingers against the soil and did the same. She opened her heart for all the devas to see. Then she rose to her feet and trod the winding path among the oaks, ascending as a hundred Chosen had done before her. Soon she was in the pines, and still the way led up and up. If she looked back, she would see the steppe spread out below like a map painted on rough skin. She did not look back. The single path began to separate, sending faint strands hither and yon like an unraveling skein of wool. She knelt and studied each branching and followed that which bore her sister's boot print. Soon. The air of summer was warm even here, where deva winds caressed the hillsides. Red deer grazed in lush meadows, unafraid of ordinary predators. Rhenna stopped to swallow the sudden thickness of fear. She loosened her jacket to let the breeze flow freely under her shirt and dry the sweat on her skin. If the devas were against her, surely they would have made themselves known by now. Once more she climbed. The path did not branch again. After half a league she found a pile of abandoned clothing, discarded with no semblance of order. Rhenna almost smiled. So like Keleneo, who had been chosen for the Seekers because she could never keep her thoughts on the work at hand… A strange scent came to Rhenna, and she lifted her head. The small hairs rose at the back of her neck. She walked more slowly, listening. Great boulders rose like sentinels. She sucked in a breath and rounded a giant, pitted rock burnished silver by the elements. There, in the shadow of a twisted pine, lay a wedding bower. Keleneo stood beside it, repairing a hole in the curved, willow-bough wall with deft fingers. Wind blew her transparent shift against her body, picking out the tight buds of her nipples and the long lines of waist and thigh. She didn't so much as shiver. The devas would not allow her to suffer. She was Chosen. Rhenna closed her eyes and imagined herself in Keleneo's place. She would not wait so calmly. She would stand facing the peaks, watching, alert for the first rustle of leaves or padded footfall. Her pulse would race like a yearling colt. She would imagine him coming to her from the heights, imagine what it must be like to couple with the descendant of a god… No sound, no scent tore Rhenna from her dreams. All her senses shouted as if she had walked through fire and jumped into an icy torrent. The Ailu flowed down the hillside like an obsidian river, seemingly boneless, his black coat agleam in the waning sunlight. Huge, disk-shaped paws wove noiselessly among the rocks. His golden gaze struck sparks from the earth. Mother-of-All, he was magnificent. No whispered tale could do him justice. And Rhenna knew true fear, that she should look upon this magnificence without paying a terrible price. Keleneo was not afraid. She moved gracefully away from the bower and waited for her lover, arms raised in a gesture of welcome. The Ailu covered the remaining distance almost daintily, as if with one misstep he might send her tumbling. He touched the point of his black nose to Keleneo's outstretched fingertips. She fell to her knees among the flowers she had gathered, dipping her forehead to the ground at the Ailu's feet. That was when the miracle happened. Rhenna blinked, and in the space of a moment the Ailu was panther no longer. He stood before his bride a naked man, rampant with desire, fully as magnificent as the great cat he had been. Black hair spread across his shoulders and spilled nearly to his waist. His face was beautiful. He laid his broad hand on Keleneo's head. Keleneo didn't speak. She pressed one hand to her breast and then brushed the Ailu's erection with a feather light caress. He flung back his head and shuddered. Rhenna's throat ached with unshed tears. You were not Chosen, the Sisters exclaimed. Shame, cried the Earthspeaker, pounding her oaken staff into the ground. But there were other voices like wind in Rhenna's ears, and they told a different tale. Here you belong, they said. Here... Something moved at the corner of Rhenna's vision. She spun, hand reaching for the knife she no longer bore. Startled eyes met hers—yellow eyes in a brown, masculine face much too old for one of the village children. Not a child, but a boy on the very edge of manhood. He was naked, shivering, his thin body strung with muscle that could not keep pace with his bones. He tossed black hair out of his face and grimaced in alarm. An Ailu boy. The thought had scarce taken shape in Rhenna's mind when she heard the roar behind her and followed the boy's terrified gaze. Keleneo shrank into the shadow of the hut, hands pressed flat over her mouth. Her Ailu mate screamed in rage. He changed from man to beast in a heartbeat and crouched to spring. Rhenna flattened herself to the boulder and swung back to the boy. She never knew what she might have demanded of him, for he was already gone. She clenched her fists and stepped out to meet her fate. Blood drummed behind her ears. The devas led me here. They will protect me. Black flashed across Rhenna's vision. No deva appeared to intercede. Her belly tightened in anticipation of the killing blow. "No!" Keleneo's voice, riven with horror. The blow never came. Rhenna opened her eyes. The Ailu crouched an arm's length away, tail lashing, fur stiff along his spine. His teeth gleamed in jaws that could crush a woman's skull in a single snap. Death, Rhenna could have accepted. But his glorious, golden eyes conveyed punishment beyond bearing… all the scorn, the utter contempt of the Elder-Council judging the blasphemer. Forbidden. Rhenna didn't even have time to flinch when the Ailu reared up upon his hind legs and lunged, striking at her head. Searing pain came only long counts after the blow, as if the claws had torn the skin of some other face. Someone wept. The Ailu spun on his haunches and sprang away, not toward the bower but back into the mountains. His pads left a trace of red on pale stone. Rhenna lifted her hand to her right cheek. Her fingers came away washed in crimson. She fell to her knees. "Sister!" Keleneo stumbled toward her, tripping over the shift in her haste. "Rhenna—" Calm settled over Rhenna, the peace that was said to come to a warrior before death. But she would not die from such a wound. Nor from what must follow. "Keli," she said, "we should not speak. Go back." "To that!" She knelt before Rhenna and grasped her bloodied hands. "Your face—oh, Rhenna, your face!" Rhenna struggled to her feet, pu...
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