The Story of Sorrel

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “No hunting,” she said, sensing what her brother had in mind.

  “But I could find us a deer, or a moose!” He leaned against the tree and shut his eyes dreamily. “A nice full belly. And if they do have Mama, she’ll be so proud.”

  “What does Mama say? What belongs to us and what doesn’t?”

  “The only things that don’t belong to us are the things that other people can keep from us.”

  Reyna nodded. “And these are malthropes. They’ll be able to keep things from us if we try to take them without care.”

  “So I’ll be careful.”

  Reyna tapped her chest. “I am the careful one.”

  He turned his head aside. “We can both be both things. That’s what Mama wants. That’s what Mama is.”

  “Even so. We are going to need help from the Reds. We shouldn’t start by stealing from them.”

  “Then what do you want to do?”

  “It smells like there is something big, not far away.”

  “I know,” Wren said. “Just that way. I’ve been trying to avoid it until we can get a good look at what it is.”

  “Let’s just go to them.”

  “What? We never just go to strangers.”

  “One way or another, we’ll have to reveal ourselves to them. We can’t ask for help in secret.”

  “We can try to find Mama in secret.”

  “Mama isn’t going to be here!” Reyna snapped.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know. I know that if a thing can be hard or it can be easy, for us, it will be hard. So Mama won’t be there. We’ll have to fight and scratch and track and jump and climb to find her. If we even can find her. So, just this once, let’s do something the easy way. It’ll be hard enough later.”

  Wren’s expression became brittle, a layer of defiance over a pit of growing uncertainty. He must have seen the same in Reyna’s eyes, because he shook himself and pulled together the shreds of his confidence.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we do just walk up to them and ask for help.” He grinned and dropped his voice to a whisper. “And then when they least suspect it, we trick them. That’s what Swift would do.”

  “We’re supposed to learn lessons from Swift, not actually do what he does, Wren.”

  “That’s just because we’re not supposed to get mixed up in the things he does. But we are in one of those things. We’re in an adventure. So now we make like Swift.”

  Reyna considered his words. “Maybe. But let’s be friendly first.”

  The pair nodded and wearily trudged through the trees.

  #

  It was oddly unnerving to be walking tall in a place where they knew others might be lurking behind every tree. The whole of their lives had been spent with wide eyes and perked-up ears. Every mile they’d traveled had been at a crouch, with the nearest hiding place always fresh in their minds. To stumble upon a footpath and choose to use it felt akin to walking on ice that might give way at any moment.

  If nothing else, winding their way along the roads gave them a proper introduction to the approaching village of Red malthropes. Perhaps it was thanks to the recent trip to make the offering, but the grounds they marched through were wholly deserted. Even without skulking about, they’d yet to be seen. It was all Wren could do to keep from raiding a pen of goats they came to. In a place where the trees thinned, they found a small but thriving farm growing some manner of grain. It was not so different from the places of man they faintly remembered from before their journey across the sea, save for one very significant departure. Here, everything they encountered felt as though it belonged. No trees were felled to make room for the farmland. Crops simply found their way into this place and that. When they came upon the village itself, it was a gradual thing. There was no wall. Here they spotted what might be a door. There they spotted what might be a roof fashioned of leaves and twine.

  And all the while, the felt the itchy tingle of discovery.

  “We’re being watched,” Wren murmured to his sister.

  “I know,” she said.

  “There’s someone just behind those trees.”

  “I know.”

  “Why won’t they just come forward?” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  “Because it isn’t every day you see two young ones dressed in the clothes of the desert village striding through our territory,” came a voice from the other side.

  Both twins snapped their gazes to the source of the voice and sprang aside. Sure enough, there was a Red malthrope standing not a stone’s throw from the road. He was not the one they’d sensed. There was no threat in his posture as he took a step toward them, but Reyna and Wren couldn’t fight the instinct to bare their teeth and flatten their ears.

  He was dressed in simple clothing. Animal hides and lightly woven cloth. The hides kept their natural color; the cloth was dyed muted greens. Together, they faded into the forest just as naturally and effortlessly as the Fennecs’ clothes suited the desert.

  The stranger was tall, perhaps a bit taller than Sorrel, and had an orange color to his fur brighter even than Wren’s.

  He raised his hands. “Enough, enough. We’ve heard tell of you. The Fennecs spoke of the children who speak dragon talk better than the elders. They offered you to us in exchange for three boars. That you are here without so much as a loaf of bread in exchange suggests they don’t know you’re gone.”

  “So you didn’t make the deal,” Wren said. “You don’t have Mama.”

  He stepped closer. “The procession came back empty-handed. I was not among them, but—”

  “You gave her away!” Wren growled. “You could have saved her, but you let the dragon take her instead.”

  The malthrope crouched and spoke gently. “I cannot ask you to understand. It is not for a child to think of such things.”

  “What’s to understand?” Reyna said. “You have so much food. You could have spared some.”

  “If we offer meat in trade for a captive, then when the full moon next rises, they will have more captives. We cannot reward them for offering our people in trade. Had fortune brought you to us rather than those of the desert, we would gladly have accepted you. Just as we will gladly accept you now.”

  He offered a hand. “Come. Much of the village is at the great hunt. After the offering, we replenish our stores.”

  Reyna and Wren looked to one another. As they had so many times before, they saw in that simple glance the whole of a plan form. When they turned back to their would-be benefactor, each knew what would be done. There was just the matter of doing it.

  They stepped forward. Reyna accepted his hand. A second figure, the one they’d noticed but had not seen, emerged. He was in every way a match for the first stranger. Sorrel had told them that twins were quite common among the malthropes, but until this day they’d had only themselves to stand as examples. He offered a friendly smile and extended a hand to Wren, who took it somewhat more reluctantly.

  “This way,” said the first stranger. “And welcome to your new home.”

  #

  For nearly an hour, Reyna and Wren were treated to a place they would not have imagined in their wildest dreams. They saw cozy homes fashioned among the trees. They smelled fresh bread baking. They saw clothes being sewn and art being carved. Most of all, they saw others of their kind. Not hiding. Not suffering. They’d seen the Fennecs during their time there, but seeing these creatures that looked so much like them, so much like their mother and their father, made it even more magical. And they weren’t huddled and struggling like the Fennecs. The air was thick with the scent of families living their lives without fear of discovery. Here and there, as had been the case in the Fennec village, fairies buzzed about. They mostly congregated around a spring that flowed through the center, their merry trilling and shimmering glow adding a joyous radiance to the place.

  The twins who led them were named Hask and Kell. They moved with an easiness and openness that seemed alm
ost unnatural for a malthrope. This, it seemed, was what a malthrope could be if he allowed his guard to drop. Graceful steps took on an almost musical cadence. Pointed muzzles curled into comfortable grins. All who called this place home were well fed and unafraid. Things were just simple here. Even the Fennecs had the sense of desperation to their lives. That there could be a place like this for people like Reyna and Wren made their lives before feel like a cruel trick.

  “Are you hungry?” Hask asked. “Would you like something to eat?”

  He was the first of the twins they’d met, though since that moment it had ceased to matter. The two were in all ways interchangeable.

  “Yes please,” Reyna said politely.

  “Sit. Kell shall fetch you something,” he said.

  The pair obediently sat on the soft moss of the forest floor.

  “So the Fennecs claim you are from across the sea. Is this true?”

  Wren nodded. “We came when we were littler. With Mama.” The young malthrope’s words and posture still had an edge to them.

  “A dangerous journey. We’d believed there were none of us left in that land.”

  “There aren’t,” he said.

  “Except for Papa,” Reyna corrected. “And we didn’t know there were any malthropes here either.”

  “If not for Boviss, by now there may not have been. But his grace defends us and makes all of this possible.”

  “He took my mama,” Wren fumed.

  Hask lowered his head. “The price he asks is great. We have lost many to him, when the earth has not been as open with its bounty as the forest has been. But to lose some is better than to lose all.”

  Kell returned with two healthy cuts of meat. He presented one each to the children. He also not-so-subtly held something sweet-smelling wrapped in cloth. “For after,” he said, patting the cloth.

  Reyna and Wren tore into the red, raw meat they were offered. It was divine, the tenderest part of a fine, healthy beast. Just what beast it was, they had no clue. Certainly something they’d never had the good fortune to capture on their own. Whatever it was, it was marbled with fat and drenched with flavor. Both brothers sat before the children and watched happily as short work was made of the food.

  “We were talking of the price that must sometimes be paid to Boviss,” Hask informed his twin.

  “Yes. Of course. Just the subject we hoped to discuss,” Kell said.

  Wren wiped his mouth, already finished. “Why would you want to talk about that with us? All we know about Boviss is he’s big and he scares everyone.” He added with a drop of venom. “And you let him take Mama.”

  “Then you know all you need to know,” Hask said. “You know the terrible price that must be paid if his offering does not satisfy him. We were fortunate that he was merciful. We had but one mine, and it has run dry. We have no gold, no jewels. Even the amber pit hasn’t provided a gem in months. And now Boviss requires twice his price to make up for our shortfall.”

  “There is not wealth enough in the entire forest to satisfy that demand,” Kell explained.

  “So what can we do?” Reyna asked.

  “You have seen what few of us have ever seen. You have been among the Fennecs.”

  “So?” Wren asked.

  “You know of their wealth. You know of the bounty of their mines,” Hask said.

  “It isn’t all around them, like the forest and its food and such,” Reyna said. “But they have lots of metal.”

  “They do!” Kell said. “They dig deep into the earth and bring back its prizes. They have so much more than they need. Their mines are bottomless.”

  Wren nodded. “I suppose.”

  “And you have seen them?” Hask said.

  Reyna and Wren glanced to one another. “Yes,” they lied in unison.

  The other twins smiled.

  “For all our desert kin lack, they are more than capable of keeping the source of their wealth a secret. If we could capture just one of their mines… There are many, I assume.”

  “Oh yes,” Wren said.

  “Many,” Reyna agreed.

  “If we could capture just one, we could be certain to keep Boviss’s needs met and our village protected for generations to come.”

  “But what about the Fennecs? They would still need food, and you’d have more than enough.”

  Kell sighed. “That is lamentable. But there is just no way around that.”

  “What if you let them hunt here? What if you traded?” Reyna said.

  “Boviss respects only strength. He would know, and we would both suffer,” Kell said.

  “That’s what they said in the desert. Do you know that? Has anyone tried?” she said.

  “The risk is too great should we be found out. Now the mines. Could you tell us how to get there? If we knew precisely where one was, and we went there directly, we could certainly send enough warriors to seize it.”

  He unfurled a map inked on vellum. The forest and its surroundings were quite precisely drawn. Farther from the forest, the markings became more general. A vague region, encompassing three whole mountains, bore the label The Lair of Boviss. Only slightly more precise was the region labeled Burrow. Anything much farther south than the Fennec village was simply labeled Desert. And where they sat was simply labeled Gall.

  Wren scratched his head. “It was dark,” he said.

  “Very dark. And we are new to this place. We couldn’t show you the way on a map,” Reyna said.

  “We could lead you, maybe.”

  The Red malthropes looked to one another.

  “It would take great care,” one suggested.

  “But, perhaps, if you took one of our stealthiest. And one of our best fairies,” suggested the other. “Once one of ours has been shown the way and returned, he could mark the place for others.”

  “But wouldn’t it be dangerous?” Reyna asked.

  “Oh, yes. Very dangerous. But you would be rewarded. And you would secure this paradise for the Red malthrope kind,” Kell said.

  “A prize worth any price,” Hask said.

  “If it’s worth any price, then what would you do for us?”

  Hask and Kell laughed.

  “Bargainers, eh? What would you have in return?” Kell said.

  “We want help getting Mama,” Wren said.

  The lightheartedness dropped from the faces of their hosts.

  “It cannot be done,” Hask said.

  “But you said any price,” Reyna countered.

  “We would gladly help you if she were taken by anyone else. But Boviss—I am sorry, children. Your mother is gone.”

  “None return from Boviss’s lair,” Kell said.

  “You don’t know Mama,” Wren said.

  “I am sorry. It cannot be done.”

  “Will you show us where to find Boviss then?” Reyna asked.

  “We do not know. Boviss does not wish to be found, and we do not wish to anger him. So we have never sought him,” Hask said.

  “But we will do anything else you desire. We will give you a home here. You will be like a prince and a princess. From this day forward, you will know only luxury, only adulation. You will be second only to Boviss in our prayers and praise,” Kell said. “Will you do this for us? Will you show us the way to a mine?”

  Reyna and Wren looked to one another with a brief glance.

  “Of course,” they replied again.

  “Splendid!” Kell said.

  He set down the wrapped cloth treat and opened it for them. It was a pair of buns. They had a spicy-sweet scent that made the young malthropes’ jaws tingle at a single whiff. They snatched up the confections and gobbled them down. Never had either tasted anything like them. The humans, the elves, they made treats that were delightfully sweet, but this… this was a dessert made for a malthrope’s palate.

  “Ha!” Hask said. “The surest way to a child’s heart. Come! We shall find you a home to watch you for a few days. And when you have your strength, you shall become th
e heroes you were destined to be!”

  #

  After a tour that served to reinforce just how magnificent a place the village was, Wren and Reyna were taken to one of the larger homes. A plump female welcomed them. In all their lives, the pair had never imagined that any malthrope could live well enough to earn so hearty a physique. She spoke only a chattering language like the Fennecs. In fact, in all the village, only Hask and Kell seemed to speak so-called dragon language. She was nonetheless happy to have them, and after a second supper at her insistence, they were given a cozy, safe room all their own to sleep in.

  When they were left alone with full bellies and eyes almost too heavy to keep open, they looked to one another.

  “We can’t stay,” Wren said.

  He spoke Tresson so as to avoid being understood, and his disappointment with the statement was abundantly clear.

  “Of course we can’t,” Reyna said. “They won’t help us find Mama, and nice as they seem, the way they plot against the Fennecs…”

  “And the way the Fennecs plot against them…” Wren agreed.

  “They’re like anyone else. Like the humans or the elves or the dwarves or anyone. I’d hoped our kind would be better…”

  “So what do we do?” Wren asked.

  “You saw the map, right?” Reyna said.

  “It doesn’t help much,” Wren said.

  “But do you think you could find Boviss if you had to?”

  “I could find anyone.” His bravado wavered a bit. “But what do we do when we find him?”

  “We’ll figure something out. But we can’t wait anymore. We have to go.”

  Wren nodded.

  “Right.” He leaned closer and whispered more quietly. “So what did you get?”

  The tiniest grin curled her lips as she began to produce items from her robe. He did so as well. A respectable mound of useful things they’d harvested from their hosts during the tour of the village piled up between them. Another knife, some rope, three small canteens, a few bottles of what may have been liquor of some kind. It was a wonder they’d been able to carry it all without being noticed. Just another fine lesson well learned from their mother.

  They split the goods up as evenly as they could, such that each would have proper equipment if they were to get separated. When they were through, Wren’s eyes lingered on the soft bedding of what could have been their home.