by Ellias Quinn
“‘Will you dance with me?’” Simmad said.
Likku blinked at him again.
Simmad turned red. “Sorry.”
“Dyndal said,” Likku went on, “‘Dance with me, strange creature.’ The woman laughed and agreed. They had no music, but they danced through the trees of Valdingfal for three days, each trying to be more ridiculous than the other. The light that they created with their magic settled in Deep Valdingfal to become the cold fire that lives in the mushrooms there. Finally they sat down on the tree branch where Dyndal had fallen three days before, and Dyndal said, ‘Become my wife, strange creature.’
“The woman laughed and refused. ‘I go where I please, not belonging to anyone.’
“Dyndal asked the woman, ‘Who are you?’
“‘Kanay,’ she said. Kanay was the daughter of Esren, Elder of Rivers, and Kiha, Elder of Storms.”
“Esren,” Simmad explained, “died fighting the Saikyr when Kanay was a child. Her mother, Kiha, remained neutral in—”
“So Dyndal told her he would return.” Likku glared at Simmad. “He went to Kiha and begged for Kanay’s hand. Kiha said, ‘I can do nothing. She is wilder than I.’ Dyndal went to Falgar, Elder of Handcraft, and asked for a beautiful song or piece of jewelry that could win Kanay to his side. Falgar said, ‘Lead her and see if she will follow. If she does not, leave her be.’ Dyndal was disappointed, so he asked his sister Hanem, Elder of Flight, what to do. ‘Always chase her,’ Hanem said, ‘but do not catch her until she lets herself be caught.’ To him, that made sense. It was a game. For a year, Dyndal danced with and talked with and chased Kanay. Though she ran from him, she never left him.
“The next year, Dyndal had more responsibilities with the Heilar, protecting the alva of Eventyr. He didn’t come to chase Kanay as often, and she grew lonely and angry. While she sulked, a stag walked by and saw her sitting on the branch where Dyndal had fallen. He raised his mighty head to look up at her. ‘What is wrong?’ he asked.
“Kanay said, ‘One who claimed he loves me is not here to be with me. He must have grown bored – or perhaps he has someone else!’
“The stag considered her words and said, ‘Should he come back, tell him to fetch you the crown of Calo. If he does, he truly loves you. If not, he does not love you enough.’”
“The intrigue,” Simmad said.
Likku ignored him. “The next time Dyndal appeared, Kanay was nowhere to be seen. He called out for her. Her voice sang from the trees in reply, ‘Teeli reeli roo, I will marry you.’ Dyndal’s heart leaped and he told her to show herself so they could marry as soon as possible. But she said, ‘I will marry you if you give me something I dearly need.’
“‘Anything,’ Dyndal promised.
“‘The crown of Calo.’ And with her words, Dyndal was brought low, for he would not and could not do as she demanded. He tried to explain, and Kanay grew so upset that she simply fell silent. She watched as he pleaded and begged with her, and then as he sang of his love for her, and then as he finally left with sorrow on his shoulders. Not long after, Dyndal and the Heilar fought a battle against the Saikyr. The trees all around them came to life, taking the Heilar by surprise. Dyndal knew that it was Kanay.
“His heart broke, but during the battle he asked that Calo and Falgar create a false crown. Falgar took off his iron circlet and together he and Calo changed it to appear as the crown of the great Elder. Dyndal took it and held it high. When Kanay saw the crown, she went to Dyndal, pleased that he truly loved her. At the same time, the Heilar struck from both sides and the Saikyr were forced to flee. The false crown, quickly made by magic, turned back to the iron circlet in Kanay’s hand. In her anger, she attacked, and Dyndal made no effort to move. The Elders Falgar, Chalena, and Shora shielded Dyndal from Kanay’s wrath and cast her away. Thus they won the battle, Kanay joined Myrkhar, and Dyndal ceased looking for a wife.”
“He never found anyone else?” Matil said. The story made her heart ache a little.
“No.” Simmad looked upward. “A bitter sort of tale, but we need those to teach us what alva are really like. That some become possessive of loyalty they don’t return, and that even the fellows fighting for good can be ruthless.”
“You sound like you’ve thought a lot about this,” Dask said. “It’s just a story.”
“I, er, wrote my junior scholar thesis on the longevity and necessity of folklore,” Simmad said. “This tale was one of the examples I used.”
“Hm.” Dask stretched his arms over his head. “I think we did you a favor getting you away from all those books.”
Simmad brightened. “And now I’m out in the field!”
“Thank you for telling us the story,” Matil said to Likku.
He nodded in reply.
Khelya shifted beside Matil. Her nose was wrinkled in thought.
“What is it?” Matil said.
“My telvogir used to tell that one,” Khelya said, “and I always cheered for Dyndal, but I just realized how sad it ends for him. And for Kanay.”
“I don’t think Kanay really cared about Dyndal,” Matil said. “She wasn’t being fair to him.”
“He could’ve given up anytime,” she said. “It ain’t unfair if he goes along with it. They both messed it up for themselves.”
“Just a story,” Dask repeated loudly. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Now, I must take issue with that assertion,” Simmad began.
The sound of shouting came from somewhere in the forest ahead of them. Three Eletsol scouts shot out of the undergrowth to the right of their wagon. The scouts headed straight for the lead wagons, continuing to raise an alarm. Within moments, whatever the scouts had shouted was spreading through the procession. The man driving the sign-bearers’ wagon reined in the mouse and brought the wagon to a halt.
Likku heard the news being passed along and simply translated, “Skorgon.”
Matil put a hand on her knife.
Khelya gasped and stood, causing the wagon to wobble. “Matil, they’re gonna try takin’ you!”
“Sit down.” Dask climbed onto the side of the wagon and opened his wings. “I’ll find out what’s going on. You keep Matil covered up.”
Likku said farewell and left to rejoin his own clan while the three in the wagon passed around blankets and put them on like cloaks. Simmad dimmed his wings. Khelya’s blanket slowly became as transparent as she was.
Matil kept her eyes roving, looking for signs of an immediate attack on the procession, but none came. Eletsol men picked up their weapons – spears, bows, axes, and poleaxes – and gathered in groups. Hundreds of them hovered over the procession, their various garb and painted designs distinguishing the clans from each other. They were like a gigantic patchwork cloth floating above. A small band of warriors split off to stay with the procession. The rest of the force went forward through a curtain of ivy, into the forest.
Dask landed in the wagon. “The Eletsol are going to meet the Skorgon and see what they want.”
“We already know what they want,” Khelya said.
“Khel,” Dask said, “what if they talk and it turns out we don’t need to fight?”
Khelya didn’t look convinced.
He folded his wings. “We only gotta worry if we hear—”
There was a deep blast from a horn.
“Okay, they started fighting,” Dask said.
Matil tried to control her panicked breathing. “It’s my fault they’re here,” she said, reaching again for her knife. “I should fight, too.”
Dask put his hand over hers on her knife’s handle. “You have the toad thingy. We can’t risk it getting captured, can we?”
She frowned. “I guess not.”
He stepped back and opened his wings again. “And I can’t risk you getting captured.”
“Wait,” Matil said, fear ris
ing in her throat. “Where are you going?”
“They have a mission for me,” Dask said. “I’m one of the fastest flyers here, so I’ll take messages back and forth to the fighting. I can keep an eye on the Skorgon and warn you guys if we need to split.” He looked at each of them. “Um…stay together. Don’t go towards the battle. If you have to go away from it, find Uro first.”
“Should I—I mean—I can go with you,” Simmad said. He stood up, squinting nervously.
Dask shoved him back down. “Stay here. Protect the ladies.” He winked and took off.
Simmad nodded. “Protect…” He looked up at Khelya.
She shrugged.
Chapter 23
First Blood
The air grew hot as the day wore on. Matil was sweating, but she didn’t want to take off the blanket she was hiding under. Seasoned and scarred Eletsol warriors kept the sign-bearers’ wagon fenced in, and everyone in the procession was unusually quiet.
A few times, to Matil’s relief, Dask sped out from the bushes and landed by the lead wagons where the chiefs, tain-men, and commanders strategized. He would give them a missive written on a leaf, wait for them to hand him a response, and then bolt away. Whenever he left, she clutched her knife’s handle. At some point, Khelya put her big arm around Matil’s shoulders, and from her contact, Matil began to turn transparent without even trying.
Clouds moved through the sky, changing the light to gray. Matil strained to hear anything from the forest. There came a long stretch without any sign of Dask, but Eletsol began to carry back their brothers, who were either limp or struggling in pain. A group of women immediately went to care for the wounded fighters. Matil wished she could join them. If Dyndal was really dead…then what was so important about his pendant? Shouldn’t the Eletsol worry more about the living? Would it be better to just hand Khelya or Simmad the pendant and give herself up to the Skorgon?
And then what? Who would stop Nychta? Who could stop her? Matil’s stomach turned as all her questions led her right back to sitting still and waiting. Something else stirred in her as well. A twinge of envy.
Nychta could do as she pleased. She had earned the command of armies and magic. Matil was something lower, more childish – relying on everyone around her and subject to their wills. No wings with which to fly and hardly any past to build on. She was even depending on legends and bedtales to save the forest. Fear and doubt and disgust with herself loomed like one of the dark clouds above.
Nychta had gotten rid of her for a reason.
The whirring of wings met Matil’s ears, and she clutched the blanket tighter. Out of the ivy burst many warriors.
Matil went weak with relief. Her hands trembled while she watched scores of Eletsol fly back to the procession. They appeared triumphant but tired, and they kept careful eyes on the way they had come. Matil thought she saw feathered wings and dark skin among the warriors, and then several men descended. Behind them flew Dask, all in one piece.
Matil took off the blanket and jumped out of the wagon. Khelya and Simmad did the same. The warriors protecting them said something in a hard tone and gestured with their weapons to keep the three from going farther.
Dask flew in the center of a group of warriors covered in orange and white designs, and beside him was a man with jagged leaf-like wings and golden-brown hair.
Matil and Khelya looked at each other, their faces brightening with joy.
“Ansi!” Matil said.
Simmad squinted. “Who?”
“Remember the Eletsol chief with the crazy sisters we told you about?” Khelya said. “The one who helped us find Mr. Korsen?”
“That’s him?” Simmad said excitedly.
The orange-and-white group flew lower to join other Eletsol, who exclaimed and bombarded them with questions in Eleti. Dask and Ansi landed in front of Matil and Khelya and folded their wings. Sweat beaded their faces. Their chests heaved as they gasped for air. Ansi’s forehead was lined with dirt and green Skorgon blood.
“I didn’t think you were coming!” said Matil.
Khelya nudged Ansi’s shoulder with her fist. “It’s good to see you. So what happened? Why’re you here?”
“I return from battle and, of course, Ansi gets all the attention,” Dask said.
Ansi cleared his throat.
Dask held up his hands. “Kidding. He’s the hero, saved the day, all that good stuff.”
“Thank you,” Ansi said primly.
Matil edged around to stand next to Dask. “I’m really glad you made it back,” she said in a low voice.
He smiled down at her. “Haven’t you noticed that I always come back?” he said. “It’s an inescapable law of nature.”
Ansi gave the three of them a relieved grin. “My entire body is sore, but your faces are a salve to me.”
“He and his men flew all night and all day,” Dask said.
“Yes,” Ansi said. “And I see that a light-wing has made it into Fainfal. A rare sight.”
Simmad bowed. “Hail, great chief, I am Scholar Simmad of Icto Lan.”
“I am Ansi the Smart of the clan Takkamakaini. I see you show proper respect.” He smirked at Matil, Dask, and Khelya. “You could teach these three something.”
“Pfft.” Dask punched Ansi’s arm.
Simmad coughed uncomfortably, but stood a little straighter.
“Did you come to bring the sign to Dyndal?” Matil asked.
“Ah…” Ansi looked ill at ease. “Is there a place to sit and take refreshment?”
They led Dask and Ansi to the wagon and gave them skins of dandelion-apple juice. After they had time to catch their breath, Ansi spoke.
“Let me go to the beginning,” he said. “A few days ago, there were Skorgon at the border in greater numbers than usual, bringing fear to the Eletsol. We have a bad history with Skorgon raiders, and these were thought to be more of the same. At that time I was gathering support from vassals of the old Takkamakaini clan in exchange for promises of protection. One of these clans called on us to protect them against the Skorgon. When I arrived with my men, the Skorgon were no longer a threat to this clan. They had only passed through, led by a Ranycht.”
Matil’s heart beat faster. Crell.
The forest was marked with signs of their going,” Ansi said, “so it was easy to see that they traveled toward the tomb of Dyndal, where I had heard the clans were gathering. Very suspect. I took my men and followed them.”
“All night and day,” Dask said.
“I will sleep well when I get the chance.” Ansi rubbed his eyes. “But we followed their trail and at long last we heard the sounds of combat. A force of armed Skorgon attacking Eletsol of many different clans. My men and I were of one heart – fly onward and fight. We found the Eletsol and Skorgon matched almost evenly, and the battle might have gone badly. My men and I struck where we saw weakness. The Skorgon fought fearlessly to the death. The battle did take time, but we Eletsol decimated their force, and the Ranycht commander finally retreated with what few Skorgon remained.”
Dask nodded. “It was unbelievable.”
“And then I saw Dask,” Ansi said, gesturing at him. “It has been a storm of events.” He leaned forward and clasped each of them by the hand in turn. “May…may I see the sign?”
Matil nodded and pulled the pendant out from under her tunic.
“Dyndalittu,” Ansi said wonderingly. “Bearers of the sign. The tatuvar have come to life.” He gave them a deep bow.
“When we take this pendant to Dyndal,” Simmad said, “will there be a ceremony, a sort of rite? Or will something happen instantly? And what will that something be, if anything? Uro and the other Eletsol have been loathe to tell me about the tomb.”
“Too many questions at once,” Ansi said. “I…stand with the others that I dare not speak of the sacred things. As to what may h
appen, it is said that the spirit of Dyndal will bless us. Dyndal was one of the great good beings. But when was the last time great good came without great evil? I am both desperately happy and quite afraid.” He chuckled. “Somehow it is right that you are the bearers of Dyndal’s sign. You are friends to the Eletsol.”
The orange-and-white-painted warriors approached their wagon.
“Ah,” Ansi said. “These are my men. They have been eager to see the ones who spoke with the Watcher.”
Some of the warriors had staves wrapped around their chests.
“Magicians!” Matil said.
Ansi hit the lip of the wagon enthusiastically. “Yes. A few of the Taina have joined us already.”
One warrior asked a question. Ansi replied in Eleti and each man held a fist to his heart.
Dask pointed with both hands. “Ansi, buddy. You’re getting some respect.”
“Respect,” Ansi said. “It’s a difficult thing to earn and keep, I find. Every day I must strive anew to lead well.”
“Looks like you’re doing a good job,” Dask said. “I know I wouldn’t be able to.”
Ansi rolled his eyes. “Yet you thought I would.”
“Hey, was I wrong?” he said.
“No,” said the Eletsol, looking very pleased. “Do you have more of that drink for my men?”
They pulled out a barrel of juice and let Ansi’s warriors help themselves to it.
“It’s exciting,” Matil said. “The Vima and the Taina working together. Is Teres all right, too?”
“Yeah,” said Dask, “how’s the lovely lady doing?”
“She’s pressed with responsibilities, as are we all.” Ansi lifted a shoulder of his sleeveless robe to wipe the sweat from his temple. “But she tells me she is content and hopeful.”
Dask glanced at him. “Any progress?”
“We have yet to find Dag,” Ansi said, “though her men are weakening and the war bends in our favor.”
“No, I mean—that’s great. Is anything else progressing?”
