Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

for her, but she had to accept the fact that men would be this way now—and Baldor was one of the more qualified candidates. Her stomach twisted.

“And what have we here? A prisoner?” Baldor turned his attention to the girl and bumped his horse into hers. He raised his hand as if to strike her. Exanthia’s eyes were wide with fright, but she kept her chin up and did not flinch away.

“Leave her!” Nena’s command rang out in the narrow canyon. Baldor hesitated, his earlier familiarity with her gone. Nena drove her mare between Baldor and Exanthia’s horses, forcing his mount to back away to make room for her. Her hand rested ready on the hilt of her sword while her eyes remained fixed on Baldor’s face, daring him to defy her. Nena did not fear him, and not because she was the daughter of Meln. Though he was nearly twice her size, she knew Baldor relied too much on his size and strength and less on skill. She was fully confident in her ability to back up her command. “She is no captive. She is my ward and under my protection. Any who take issue with her, take issue with me.”

The other warriors looked to Baldor with interest, awaiting his response to her clear challenge. Nena’s reputation as a skilled fighter was well known—not to mention how it would look to the tribe if Baldor were to exchange blows with her on her long awaited return home. Baldor nodded curtly and turned his horse away. Without another word, he moved to the front of the group and waited for the others to fall in behind him.

Though she outranked him, Nena did not challenge him again or assert her claim to lead the small band. Nor would she have done so had any of the others taken that position. She was too physically exhausted and mentally drained. She did not wish to be responsible for any more decisions, even simple ones. For now, she was content to follow. With Exanthia riding close behind her, and Gentok and the other warriors bringing up the rear, they began to make their way up the mountain.

As the horses climbed the rugged, but well-worn trail into the trees, Nena waited to feel at home. Everything was so familiar. There was the large boulder that had rolled across the trail last year after heavy spring rains. And the great pine whose trunk took three men to encircle with their arms. It had been struck by lightning four summers ago and survived, but since then, stood only half of its previous height. There was even the same small patch of purple wildflowers that grew in the boggy spot on the edge of the trail. Nena could have been blindfolded and dropped at any point along the way and known exactly where she was within seconds of opening her eyes. So how, though she recognized it all, did it somehow still feel foreign to her?

Her father was waiting for them outside of his tent with her brother, Lothor, standing slightly behind him. As her father stepped forward to greet her, Nena slid from her horse, struggling to hide her emotions and to not react to the hideous scars that covered what had been his right eye and the upper right half of his face. Even the bones of his skull beneath them were sunken and misshapen. How had he survived such an injury? Perhaps Altene had not been lying after all when she reported a man saw Meln fall to a battle-axe. That would explain so much—why the other six fallen Teclan warriors had not been placed in sky graves. How had he possibly managed even one for her brother, Ruga?

Nena knelt before him, and Meln placed his hand on the back of her head in an uncharacteristic emotional gesture.

“Nena, my child. It is good to see you well.”

“And you, Father,” she acknowledged. She stood then, but they did not embrace.

“And who is this child?” Meln nodded to the girl who had also dismounted and stood behind her.

“This is Exanthia.” Nena reached back and pulled her forward, then stood with her hand protectively on the girl’s shoulder. Her father had been fearsome to strangers before, but Nena was sure his mangled, scarred countenance had to be truly terrifying now. “She is brave and strong, and I bring her as my ward to join the Teclan.”

Meln’s brow furrowed. It was an extremely unusual request. Very few outsiders were ever accepted into the tribe, and usually only then as the result of marriage.

Sensing his indecision, Nena continued. “I was bloodsworn to her by another Dor when I was held prisoner. I could not escape and leave her to suffer the penalty for my actions. But she is more than that. She is strong deep within. Teclan strong, and I make this a formal request.”

Her father paused for a moment, then nodded his acceptance. Nena breathed a sigh of relief. The chief’s blessing was required for any outsider to join the tribe.

“The gods have chosen for you?” her father asked.

Nena was caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, Father,” she answered.

Lothor scowled.

Her father nodded, seeming disappointed but not surprised. He knew the circumstances under which he had last seen his daughter. He knew only capture by the Northmen, or an injury such as his, would have kept her away from home for so long. She was clearly not so injured.

“With the gods’ choice behind you, there is no reason for you to delay choosing a warrior from among the tribe.”

“Yes, Father,” Nena replied, biting back all the things she wanted to say. After thinking she was dead, that was his first concern?

“And you have used the Taymen?” he asked, shifting the conversation again suddenly, as direct as ever.

Her brother looked away, his scowl deepening. Lothor had yet to say a word, which was not unusual, but something about his demeanor was off—something more than his