The Story of Sorrel

by Joseph R. Lallo

  Let that be a lesson to you. Always there is a way for those who wish to hurt you to find you, so always you must plan for the day that they do, so you will be ready.

  He sniffed the air. One by one, he counted the scents that he did not recognize. He counted one, and then two. He counted three, and then four. And finally, he counted five. The fifth, he knew, was the leader. And how did he know? Because the leader is the one who smells least of hard work, and most of easy days. Swift knew it was smart to know where to find the leader. Elves and dwarves and other things like man, they do not know how to be alone, like we do. They listen to what the leaders say. They do what the leaders tell them to do. So it is always best to know where the leader is. Keep him quiet and no one will act. Trick him and you trick all who follow him.

  Also, it is always a him. When smelling for a leader, smell for a him. Man-type things think that the males are best because the males are biggest. It is one of the ways that man-type things are fools.

  But that is not the story. The story is about Swift and what he did when he smelled the elves come near. What should he do? He should run. But they were all around, and elves are a very fast sort of man-type thing. Not as fast as Swift, but fast enough to catch him if he got too near. What should he do instead? He should hide. But he smelled the bad smells of potions and strange smoke. Magic things. When man-type things have magic things, hiding may not do. If Swift was a man-type thing, he might fight. Man-type things love to fight. But that is why you must never fight them. If a thing loves to do something, do not try to do it better. You find the thing they cannot do, and try to do that better.

  Swift could feel the bad magics. He could hear the cruel talking. He listened from the trees, and he knew that they were after him.

  “They say this is the place where Swift makes his home,” said the leader elf, who had a name that did not matter.

  Swift lowered his head, and he felt foolish. No one should know of a good malthrope. But Swift had many adventures. The adventures I tell you of each night. And adventures take a name and spread it to the winds. Many will hear it, and those many will come. So you must never have an adventure, or you will have a hard time like Swift.

  The leader elf kept talking. “Today, we shall catch Swift. We shall sell him and have great wealth.”

  Many seek to sell a malthrope. Parts of us are worth very much. And the parts that are not? They throw away. It is why some of them hunt us. It is why the leader elf hunted Swift.

  “Tell me where to find him. Use your bad magic,” the leader elf said to his wizard. “And soldiers be ready. We must keep him alive, so the parts we want do not spoil. And we will sell the pieces, and we will have much money for all of us.”

  Swift could hear the stretch of bows. He could feel the tingle of magic. He could hear the rustle of nets. The elves would have him if they wanted him. They would have had him already, except that the leader elf was talking. Talking is not fighting. And talking is not hunting. Talking is as good as nothing, so Swift knew if he wanted to stay alive, he needed to keep the leader elf talking. Swift thought and he thought. He thought fast, and he thought long. He thought of all the ways he could run, of all the ways he could fight. He thought of what should come next, and what would come after that. He thought until he had thought of everything that might happen. He thought until he was sure of every step on the path, from trapped in a tree to safe in the woods. Only when he had done all that thinking did he take the first step. Only then did he jump down for all to see.

  Jumping down is a foolish thing. But a foolish thing is not foolish if we think long and hard. If we know that the thing is the best thing we can do, then we do the thing, foolish or not. And Swift knew.

  “There, we have him! Throw the nets now!” the leader elf cried.

  The nets flew. They fell upon Swift. He was fast enough to run, but no malthrope is faster than an arrow, and these elves had them. So he let the nets bind him, because a net is better than an arrow if one has no other choice.

  “We have you! You, mally, belong to us!” said the leader elf. “And we will sell you because you are worth a fortune.”

  Swift lowered his head and he spoke. “Oh leader elf, you who are wise and strong,” Swift said.

  The leader elf was not wise or strong, of course. If he were strong, he would not have been a leader. The strong do what the leaders say. And if he were wise, he would not have been in the forest. Wise men do not do the things that are hard; they have others do them. But a man-type thing likes to hear nice things, even if they are lies. So Swift said these nice things, and he said more.

  “You wish to sell me,” Swift said, “because you seek wealth. But if I can offer you more wealth than you would get from me, would you let me go?”

  “You are a malthrope. You have no wealth to offer,” the leader elf said.

  “That is not so!” Swift said. “I have this!”

  And Swift reached into his cape. From inside he pulled a beautiful stone. The color was purple, a very hard color of stone to find. Even when it was dry, it shined like morning dew. He held it up.

  “You will not find a finer stone in all of the great woods. It is worth more than I am by far. I will give it to you if you let me go.”

  “Ha-ha!” the leader elf said. “I have you, and so I have the stone. I do not need to let you go.”

  “But, leader elf, so wise and so brave, you can have so much more if you let me go. Because I know where there are more stones like this. Five stones more. Let me go and I will fetch them for you.”

  This was a lie, of course. Swift knew that the stone he held was finer by far than any in the forest. There were no more like it. But like before, a man-type thing will believe a thing if the thing is something he wants to believe. So he believed there was more wealth to be had.

  Another day, this would have been enough. They would have let Swift go to fetch the other stones, and Swift would have run and never returned. But today, the leader elf was not as much of a fool as Swift would like.

  “If I let you go, you will not come back. Instead, you will lead me to the stones. Soldiers, lock a chain on his neck. Wizards make it so that only by my word can it be opened.”

  If ever you are in chains, you are in a bad place and you have done many wrong things, but Swift knew this might happen. He had thought this through.

  “You are very good and wise, leader elf. I will do as you say. And please, take this first stone to keep.”

  The leader elf took the stone, and he locked it away. He was very suspicious, which is a good thing to be, but not so suspicious as to keep Swift from seeing where he put the stone. It was in a locked box with other coins and stones, in a tied sack, in the bag on the saddle of the horse. Swift watched it all.

  With soldiers holding his chains, Swift marched through the woods. He climbed steep hills. He trudged through painful brambles. The elves were not as strong as Swift and grew tired. They made camp and, while they slept, Swift opened the saddlebag. He untied the sack. He plucked the key from the elf leader and unlocked the box. From inside he took the stone and a handful of coins. One by one, he placed a coin in the pockets of the other sleeping elves, then replaced the box and key.

  The next day he made a show of searching. When the time was right, he dropped the stone into the dirt.

  “Here, oh wise and brave one. And there are many more like it, and I will lead you to them.”

  The leader elf was pleased. He placed the stone in his box and demanded Swift continue to lead him to more. For five long days, he led them through the woods. Each night he would take back the stone and more of the coins. Each day he would pretend to find the stone and present it once more.

  It was not until the sixth day that the leader elf noticed how empty the box had become.

  “What is this?” he said. “I have been robbed. You have done this, you horrible mally!”

  Of course the elf leader would think Swift was the thief. All malthropes are thieves to man-t
ype things.

  “Oh wise one,” Swift said. “I did not! See how I carry no coins. See how I carry no stones.”

  The elf leader shouted, “Someone has stolen my things. All of you, turn out your pockets.”

  One by one, the soldiers and wizard emptied their pockets. Gold coins and silver coins spilled to the ground.

  “Thieves! Traitors! All of you!” the elf leader cried.

  The other elves did not like being called thieves. Man-type things always call others by names they cannot stand to be called. The soldiers raised their weapons. The wizard raised his special stone. All were angry with the leader elf.

  “Free me, oh wise one,” Swift said quickly. “Only I have not lied to you. If you promise my safety, I shall defend you!”

  The elf leader, with no one left to fight his battles for him, quickly spoke the words that would break the chains. Swift was free. And he did not keep his word, because a word to a man-type thing is no word at all. He ran into the forest, and the terrible elves sliced and magicked and beat each other until they were all dead.

  #

  “And the next day, Swift returned to take the swords, and the gold.” She tapped Reyna’s pendant. “And the stone. The end.”

  The twins softly clapped, their faces aglow with smiles.

  “I love that one,” Reyna said. “Swift is so smart.”

  “What do we learn from this story?” Sorrel asked. “What lessons does Swift teach us? There are many.”

  “Elves are stupid and we should lie to them,” Wren said.

  Sorrel shook her head. “No. That is not the lesson.”

  Reyna piped up. “Elves can be smart, but they can also be stupid.”

  “And we should lie to them,” Wren amended.

  “Yes. What else?”

  “If you are in chains, you did something wrong, so you have to be extra smart to get out,” Reyna said.

  “And? More lessons.”

  “And… you should only do a stupid thing if there are no more smart things to do,” Wren said.

  “Good, and more. You have heard this story many times. You should know all of the lessons.”

  Reyna scratched her head. “Oh! Stealing is always a good thing to do.”

  Sorrel crossed her arms. “Who tells you that stealing is a good thing to do? Swift did not steal anything in the story.”

  “Right, because he only took the stone, which was his already,” Wren said. “And the coins, but he gave them back.”

  “But what about the swords and things, after they were all dead?” Reyna said.

  “You can’t steal from a dead person. Everyone knows that,” Wren mocked.

  “This is true, but also it is not,” Sorrel said. “Listen close, because this is very important. It is two pieces. First, you should never take anything unless it belongs to you. Second, anything that someone else cannot stop you from getting belongs to you. Swift takes an elf’s gold, that is the elf’s fault for not keeping it, not Swift’s fault for taking it.”

  “Oh… right. Because if I find an apple on a tree, I’m not stealing from the tree,” Wren said.

  “Taking things from people is just… harvesting,” Reyna reasoned.

  “Yes! Now one last lesson and we all get some sleep.”

  “Adventures are bad,” Reyna and Wren said in unison.

  “That’s right. Now sleep for you both.”

  Chapter 2

  Just as the sun began to paint the sky, Sorrel roused the twins for a new day of lessons.

  “Up. Up. Both of you. The prey will soon be stirring, and you must be ready,” she said, pulling free her cloak to let the lingering cold help wake the sleepy children.

  “But, Mama...” murmured Reyna, pulling her own cloak tighter around her.

  Wren was a bit more enthusiastic at the prospect of a hunt.

  “Can we try for a deer today, Mama?” Wren said. “I almost got one last time.”

  “We are in the desert, Wren. This is not a place for deer. There won’t be prey so large here. In the forest, and in the plains, there you can find big prey. In the farms of man and the things like man as well. But not here.”

  “Aw… Why did we leave the forest then, Mama?” Wren said.

  “Because the things like man like the forest, and so we must not be there. We are better hunters. We can live anywhere. And to be safe, we must live where others cannot.”

  “But won’t that be hard?”

  “The good things to do, the right things, they are not the easy things. But now is not for talking. Now is for hunting. Reyna, you listen, and you follow. Hunt as well as Wren today. And Wren, hide as well as Reyna. You each must do both.”

  “Yes, Mama,” they said in unison.

  The twins stood and raised their noses for a long, slow sniff.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” Sorrel lightly scolded. “What do we use first? Before even our noses?”

  “Our heads?” Reyna said.

  “This is so. Where is it that we should start our hunt?”

  Reyna and Wren mused quietly.

  “Oh, near the water!” Wren said.

  Sorrel tousled his hair. “Good, yes. You have a good head. Always by the water. Come.”

  They turned to the east. Sorrel always made certain to spend the night near enough to water to reach it quickly, but far enough to avoid providing a warning to any of the animals who might venture near for a morning drink. In an arid plain like this, remaining hidden meant moving much farther from the water than she would have liked. Without even tall grass to crouch in, they were at the mercy of the low rolling hills to provide their cover. It wasn’t ideal, but little in their lives was.

  The family crept low to the ground, eyes steady, ears perked, noses sampling the air. Sorrel closed her eyes and focused on the way the wind ruffled her whiskers. There was barely a breeze. That was good. Their scent would not travel. Still, with no cover and a great deal of distance between themselves and the meager collection of rabbits and lizards near the water, they would need to move with painful slowness, and even that might not be enough.

  Sorrel silently signaled the twins to drop into a shallow gully out of sight of the water. When they were hidden, she motioned for them to watch closely and gathered up the powdery soil in handfuls, patting it into her fur and clothing with an artist’s precision. Soon she was covered from head to toe, a layer of dust perfectly blending her color to that of the land. The twins imitated, not as skillfully, but Sorrel finished the job for them and they resumed the hunt.

  A long stalk and a frenzied sprint later, Sorrel snatched up a pair rabbits. Reyna caught a lizard, and Wren caught a rabbit of his own. It was a fine hunt, and left them with full bellies and the rest of the day to digest, learn, and plan.

  #

  During the day, when they did not have to worry about finding prey, they moved with a bit less care. They were still mindful of those who might hunt them, but Sorrel neither saw nor smelled anything that concerned her. The desert stretched out to the north, and the thinning remnants of the plains and forest stretched out to the south. There was little to obscure her view. Breezes and gusts, when they came, carried scents from miles around. It was as safe as she was ever likely to feel while out in the open. Her children knew her well enough to know that if she was not concerned and cautious, they need not be either. It seldom took long for the questions to begin to flow.

  “Mama?” Reyna said. “We are going north.”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s just more desert to the north.”

  “Yes, Reyna.”

  “Why do we keep going? The desert is bad!”

  “But how bad?”

  “Who cares? It is bad!”

  “We need to know. Know always how bad it is. Know how far you can go. Because if someone follows, you need to know how far you can go, and for how long.”

  “But no one is following us, Mama,” Wren said.

  “That is why we go now. Now if we make a mistake, if we go to
o far, we can come back. If someone follows and we make a mistake, we don’t come back. But if we know, then when we go, they go too far. And they don’t come back.”

  Wren slumped a bit. “So we have to keep looking and listening and sniffing.”

  “We always do. Always.”

  “Always forever?” Reyna asked.

  “You should not ask questions you know the answer to.”

  Reyna’s shoulders slumped too. “Sorry, Mama.”

  They walked in silence, but for the children, the silence was heavier. Sorrel looked down to them.

  “Also you should not stay silent when you have something you need to say.”

  Reyna looked at her feet and huffed. “Is there ever going to be a place where we don’t have to do this? Where we can just be instead of always worrying?”

  Sorrel looked to the north. “I do not know. But I think there is a place like that. I have not found it. But always I am looking for it. That is why there is the game. The game keeps us alive until we find a place like that. The game teaches us to know when we have found a place like that. That is why you must be good at the game. Because maybe I will not be with you when you find the place. Maybe you will need to know for yourself.”

  “The game is for so many reasons…” Wren said.

  “The game is everything,” Sorrel said.

  Wren sniffed the air and glanced about. “Can we start early today, then?”

  Reyna nodded. “Yes! Can we? I know just which way to go.”

  Sorrel grinned. “Now is a good time to start.”

  She shut her eyes and crouched down. When they were certain she could not see, they scampered away. The soft crunch of sand was barely audible beneath their feet. She breathed in their scent until it began to fade. They chose their direction well. It didn’t take long before the wind was wafting their scent away rather than blowing it toward her. In minutes, none of her senses spoke of them beyond the lingering scent of their trail. It was the one thing that no amount of care or wisdom could entirely eliminate, and thus it was the reason she knew that she would be able to find her children no matter how carefully they played the game. They simply couldn’t move quickly enough for their trails to be cold before she could find them. But they didn’t need to know that. The harder they worked at an impossible goal, the closer they came to doing the impossible. And doing the impossible was very nearly what it would take to live to a ripe old age as a malthrope.