I placed my hand on the doe’s head. It flinched away from me, but then brought its head back to my steady open palm. “Over time, the forest began to see that what it had meant as a memorial was being abused. Hunters would lure animals to the Tears and kill them, never thinking of Dienar. So, the woods cursed all those who would pass and not also shed a tear.”
I looked back to my companions. They had understood, although the men did not seem ready to shed a tear. Korah, rather, looked like he might slay the deer and cure its meat despite the story.
The sadness that the doe was experiencing welled up inside me, passing through my hand and into my very soul. Tears trickled down to my beard. My voice grew labored. “Let us then remember Dienar, who was such a friend to the forest and those that inhabited it. Let us remember the one who protected his village, though they feared what he had become. And through all this, let us remember our own friends who have passed from beneath the sun.”
I let the image of a gravestone near my home in the North come to my mind.
Behind me, I heard Lazul burst into anguish, loosing a great dwarven cry. I knew Cerulean would not have hesitated in producing tears. Karen Cordolis would not fail to aid such an animal. Nor would Galatea. Abani’s pride might hold us here for a while, but I suspected it would fall to the other men to determine how long we would be forced to stay.
I stood, letting the sorrow wash over me for a time. Suddenly, the deer crouched down and raced away, disappearing into green shadows. I looked down. The circle in the grass had vanished. Turning, I saw that each of the others had tears in their eyes. Lazul’s beard was fairly soaked, his white eyes bloodshot.
Cerulean glanced around and then prompted us, “We have been delayed here too long.”
We gathered our wits and set out once again. We passed no more Tears, as if the forest had seen our sorrow and knew that we had passed its test. We also passed no more fables waiting to be spoken that day. At nightfall, we emerged from the forest onto a great plain. The red light of sunset illuminated rolling, grassy hills spotted with rocky outcroppings here and there. We made camp under the edge of the forest.
The others were quiet with their own thoughts. The Tear had shaken them. Though a short story, it was very potent. I had read of its enchantment. This was one that would entrap those who witnessed it until it was fulfilled. It would force tears out, one way or another, often ransacking memories until such a time as tears would come.
That night I dreamed. I saw each of the companions that were with me and what they remembered as the tears came.
Cerulean had remembered the sorrow of saving the life of a loved one, but never being able to see him again.
Lazul was shaken by his wife. He saw her legless and helpless. Though it had never happened, it was much on his mind.
Korah thought of his father and how disappointed he would be.
Daragen feared a reunion that was soon coming, and what it might mean.
Galatea remembered her husband dying in her arms.
Abani thought only of her shame.
And Karen Cordolis mourned for her beloved Peor, the one friend that had stayed with her since she had first lived her own tales.
Finally, I saw my own sorrow. Such a small gravestone. Such a small grave. Such a small body.
Chapter Eighteen
We awoke before dawn and prepared for the day without words. As the sun broke the horizon to our left, we set out across the plain. Habrin beckoned us. We all longed for a warm meal and music and perhaps even a mattress of straw for sleep. My back ached. Really, all of me ached.
The sun escaped the clouds that had smothered it the previous days. It shone bright and warm, quickly causing sweat to drip into my eyes. I glanced back and noticed that neither Abani nor Daragen seemed bothered by this, and Cerulean even seemed to smile into the bright light. However, Korah looked a bit faint. I called a halt, and we paused to drink water. The Spireman drank the entirety of his canteen, and when Abani offered her own, Korah did not hesitate; he drank most of that as well.
I did not know this plain, nor had I studied its geography extensively when we had mapped our journey. “Does anyone know if there are any streams nearby?” I asked.
Daragen stepped forward. “Not an hour away. We’ll have to cross it to reach Habrin. It’s small but should provide a brief respite.” His eyes were on Korah as he spoke.
We set out again, finding the stream and refilling our canteens. Korah jumped into the water, sending out a shower of glimmering droplets. He wet himself down, thoroughly soaking the rest of us in the process. I also chose to leap into the water, splashing Korah back. Galatea sat on a stone at the brookside and watched with a smile. Cerulean did not seem to enjoy it nearly as much. Abani danced around the droplets and wasn’t even damp, though she did drink from the stream, as did the others. Thoroughly refreshed, we set out again.
A short time later, we reached the top of a rise and were able to look across a dale to the town of Habrin. A stout stone wall surrounded the town. From my vantage, I could see nothing but thatched roofs inside.
Karen Cordolis looked toward the town with us. “Well, I believe this is the end of open travels for me. Lazul, if you would please put me in your pack. Don’t worry; if I can fight off wild foxes, I think I can handle whatever else you have in here. Oh, my! How long has it been since you cleaned out your pack? It smells like a goblin’s barracks!”
We made our way across the grassy expanse and to the gate of Habrin under the early afternoon sun. I noticed that the once stony plain was now covered with grain and very few boulders. It appeared that the wall of the town had been constructed exclusively of fieldstones. It was as if people had found rocks in the fields and simply set them on top of each other. Surprisingly, this strategy seemed to work, for the wall itself appeared very sturdy, if a bit irregularly shaped. Men walked the top of the wall but wore little armor. They leaned on pikes and peered down at any who might approach the town.
We passed many women going out to the fields as we drew nearer the gate of the city. They were simply dressed in plain, homespun fabrics, suited for their outdoor chores. Everyone we encountered looked down once they saw we were neither familiar nor goblins, though many watched unabashedly once we had walked past them.
The gate of the city was stout lumber. Two men flanked the gates, each greeting the women who left by name.
“Good harvest, Sarana.”
“Blessings, Karisen.”
“Patrica, your eyes be strong.”
They wore simple leather armor and helmets. I could tell that they meant each greeting they spoke to the women who passed. Not one person seemed to escape their eyes.
We paused just outside the gate and dismounted. Habrin stood at the juncture of the lands controlled by Garrenda, Cassun, and Parvia. No one nation claimed it; it stood independent. We had no one that would be able to stand as a citizen; we were all strangers here.
Except, apparently, Daragen.
He strode to the guard on the left and gave a shallow bow. “Blessings to you, brother Paud. I’ve returned from many wanderings and wish to again see the halls of my fathers.”
Paud noted Daragen, paused a moment, and broke into a smile. He rushed through the formal greeting, “Blessings to you, brother Daragen! May you be welcome here, and may we be blessed by you!” He leaned his pike against the gate and stepped forward to embrace the shorter man. “It’s been too long. What kept you away?”
The other guard continued greeting the exiting women, doubling his speed to make up for his companion. Many of the women slowed, now openly surveying us. A few seemed to whisper to Daragen as they passed, some even reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. He acknowledged each with a nod, but kept his attention on the guard.
Galatea walked up to Daragen and punched his shoulder. Twice. “I knew you didn’t quite fit in, but this? This is why you needed a mate? Because you weren’t Garrendai at all?” She punched him again. She brushed a strand of red hair out o
f her eyes, considered, and then punched him a final time.
Paud leaned forward. “Need me to step in here, brother?”
Daragen and Galatea both flung the same look at him. He backed up a step.
Daragen put a hand on Galatea’s shoulder. She stepped back so his hand slid off. Her own hands were balled into fists.
“Galatea, yes, I belong here. This is home. And I’ll tell you about it. Soon. But now, I need to talk to my brother. And we need to get in.”
She spun and took a position next to Korah. The Spireman looked at me, but all I could do was shrug. Even at my age, women were a mystery.
Paud ventured, “Father will want to see you.” He refocused. “He’ll want to see you all. Blessings to you, honored guests of my brother Daragen. May you be welcome here, and may we be blessed by you all.” He gave a bow, arms spread wide. When he stood, he gestured for us to follow him in.
Daragen flanked Paud as he went in. We followed at a short distance, leading our horses. Galatea dallied at the back, and Korah looked from her to me and back again. Finally, he walked forward to catch me. “Brother? He looks nothing like Daragen,” he muttered.
I explained, “Any who are natural-born to Habrin view each other as one family. The lord of the town is titled Father. I doubt there is any blood relation. You don’t know the history of Habrin, do you?”
Korah glanced at me and kept his mouth shut.
“I thought so. Tonight, I will tell you. Now is not the time. Besides, there is a woman who may need you.” I gestured back to Galatea.
Korah’s ears turned red. “You know?”
“I’m pretty sure we all know.”
Korah’s face now matched his ears. He fell behind to walk next to Galatea, his eyes on the ground.
We passed many low buildings made from lumber and stone, covered with thatch. The town seemed fairly small from the outside but was much more spacious than I would have surmised. One building in the center of town rose higher than the rest, and it boasted a wooden roof. The shingles were old and cracked in places, but the building breathed out an ancient majesty.
Some stable hands took charge of our mounts. Paud led us up stone steps to a great door that was nearly the size of the town gate and just as open. I glanced back before entering the dark door. Below me spread the city. There were few people on the streets and lanes inside the walls, but outside I could see forms working the fields. I had yet to see many men besides the guards.
Inside the hall, startlingly cool air refreshed after the hot sun. It was also very dark; not one torch was lit, and few windows let in light. After a moment I made out a long hall with four long tables, two to either side of me, running its length. It smelled of beer and laughter. The walls were decorated with paintings, though in the dark I could not determine what they depicted. At the far end, an empty throne sat upon a raised dais.
Paud lead us to the dais. He motioned for us to stop before the raised surface and then exited the hall the way we had come.
We waited.
Galatea sulked in a corner. Korah stood nearby, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Daragen found interesting things to look at in the other direction.
After a short time had passed, another entered the hall. He wore a thick, flowing robe with long sleeves. He walked quickly, barely avoiding a run. He laughed, “Dear Daragen, have you returned to us at last?”
When he drew closer, his arms flew wide, and he embraced the short man. Daragen embraced him back. He was almost lost in the folds of green fabric. They stood that way for a moment and then separated. The robed man kept his hands on Daragen’s shoulders. “I pray you are here to stay this time, my son. You would be welcomed in the training yards. The young men don’t believe what we teach them. They say we are too old. Perhaps they would listen to you.” He paused, his lips curling into a friendly smile. “And if they did not, I’m sure you could find some way to open their ears.” He seemed to notice us for the first time.
He sighed and mounted the dais. “I apologize. With guests present, I should do this the proper way.” He turned and sat upon the throne. “Blessings to you, Daragen, son who has returned. We pray you have blessed the world and bring your learning back to bless us. Blessings to you, honored guests and friends of our son Daragen. May your time here bring joy to all you see and to your own hearts as well.” He spoke the words in a formal tone, though he leaned forward impatiently.
Daragen bowed. “Your son returns to you and wishes to share all he has learned. May he be a blessing to all the city. Blessings to Habrin. Blessings to you, Father Odenias.”
“There! Now it is done and we may feast together!” Odenias leaped from the throne and strode to a table, gesturing for us to sit around it. “I’ve already ordered that a fine meal be prepared. It’s early in the day, though, so it’ll still be a while before anything is ready besides bread. That should be arriving soon, I think. Come, Daragen, tell me of your friends!”
Daragen introduced us each in turn. “This is Cerulean, an elf of Hadrisar. Here is Abani.”
“A Parvian.” Odenias’s eyes took in the robes and the color of Abani’s skin. “Tell me, does Dikedi still train young dancers in the sand pits?”
Abani’s eyes went wide. “Yes. He trained me. How do you know him?”
Odenias laughed. “It is the way of Habrin. I went to Parvia to train, just as Daragen said he would. I see his path led him to other fields, though. Or other lakes, apparently. No, I trained under Dikedi for many years, struggling to master the forms. I see that you wear the silks. Perhaps later, when prying eyes would not steal any form from you, we might talk of the pits, and I could show you my forms so I may be corrected. It has been many years since my training, and I could use the eyes of another who trained under such a great man.”
Abani could not decide what to do with this information. “Of course, honored lord. Should we have the time, I will watch your forms.”
Odenias gestured back to Daragen. “Continue your introductions, please.”
The short man nodded. “This dwarf is Lazul, Chief of Jaed. Here sits Korah of the Spires, and this Northerner is King Naeharum Adal.”
Odenias looked me up and down. “Not many kings of men would travel without an escort, and fewer still when they reach your honored age. There is a story here. I would like to hear it.”
There is a story here. That phrase told me Odenias was a man who would savor what we had to share, but should we? I rolled the answer about in my mind. “Father Odenias, you give us many blessings. Let my companions and I talk about this with one another, so we may decide how best to share our stories.”
“I see.”
Before I could respond, Galatea spoke up. “You forgot me.”
Daragen turned to look at her directly. “This is my mate. Galatea.”
“Your mate! I know someone who will be surprised.”
Daragen spun and locked eyes with Odenias. The Father covered his mouth with a hand. “I speak too much. Galatea, you are welcome here. Are you two merely mates, or are you husband and wife?”
Galatea spat on the ground. “Marry that eel? Never! He lied to me! Said he was Garrendai! Said his mate had died before they had the chance to be married. Said he just needed someone like him to keep an eye out. Said he wasn’t interested in romance. Said—said! Said!”
Daragen held his hands out to her from across the room. “I never said that.”
“You let me believe it!”
Daragen could not answer.
Odenias spoke, his voice soft. “Galatea. All our honored guests. Our hall is open to you. Daragen, you are welcome wherever you wish to go. The rest of you, I must ask you to stay here.” He stood and looked down to Daragen. His voice was tender. “You know where to find her, if it is your wish. I pray you find blessings no matter what you do, son.”
Daragen looked around at the rest of us. His gaze lingered on Galatea. “You are free to pursue others. You don’t need to hide it from me.”
/> “I never did,” she sobbed.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you.” He searched for words. “You knew I never—that I wasn’t looking for—” He sighed. “Galatea, we were just mates.”
Galatea turned and sobbed into Korah. He raised a shaking hand to pat her shoulder.
Daragen watched for a moment before turning and leaving the hall.
Odenias watched him go. “If you are his friends, be prepared to comfort him as well tonight. He will not like what he discovers. Ten years is too long for a woman to wait, I fear.” He turned back to us. “Discuss what you will; I must return to the training fields. We will talk more tonight when you have decided what you may share.” And with that he strode out, leaving us alone in the great dark hall.
Chapter Nineteen
“Well. I see I’ve walked into the middle of another story.” A figure spoke as he strode into the hall and surveyed the scene. I could see little of him; light pouring through the doors silhouetted him. “Come now, we’re among humans! Must you communicate that way? We’re guests!” He walked toward us now. As he moved far enough into the darkness, I could finally make him out. The figure was tall, with a very thin build. He wore a mist-colored robe and simple sandals, similar to Cerulean’s. His close-cropped black hair was silver at the temples and left his long, tapered ears oddly unhidden. Finally, I could see the face: a long, straight nose, piercing blue eyes—and a smile.
Elves weren’t supposed to smile.
“Cerulean, I have the feeling you don’t like sullying your tongue with speech, but their language is just as noble as ours. It’s just fine to talk!” He smiled again and turned to us. “I am Yolian of Fahalla.”
Elves weren’t supposed to be so cheerfully forthcoming either.
“I am Naeharum Adal, King of the North.” I furrowed my brow. “I’m confused.”
Yolian chuckled. “I enjoy doing that to people.” As he scanned the rest of us, his eyes rested on Abani. He startled and bowed to her. “Sword Dancer Abani, may you find water here! Seeing you again is an oasis in the desert!”
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