Whisper of Blood

by James Dale

  "White Horse?" Jack asked in a whisper.

  "A great many of them by the sound," the Amarian nodded quietly. "I would guess they are making for the Isinar Ford. I had hoped to use the road for at least another day, but it will no longer be safe."

  "What now?"

  "East through the forest," Tarsus sighed. "It is our only choice."

  "How far across is it?" Jack asked.

  "Perhaps fifty or sixty leagues this far south," he answered as he lay back down. "It will take several days to cross. If we don't run into any...obstacles."

  "It can't be that bad," Jack said, as he also lay back down. "Can it?"

  "I suppose we will soon find out," replied Tarsus, and with that, the two men said no more and drifted back to sleep.

  The next morning at daybreak they rekindled their fire and ate a quick breakfast, then saddled their horses and resumed their journey. Tarsus lead them slowly through the forest, directly east. About mid-day the terrain began to gently force them more to the north. But the Amarian wasn't overly concerned as they were still heading in the general direction he wanted to go. When the sun began to set, they stopped for the day.

  Tarsus unsaddled the horses and saw to their needs. Braedan was about to go off in search of deadfall but the Amarian stopped him. "No fires from now on," he said. "Soon we will be nearing the heart of the forest. If any Ailfar still live in these woods, they will be here. No need to kindle their ire."

  "Well how do they cook their food?" Jack asked irritably. He was sore from another day in the saddle. Though he'd gained the stallion's trust today, he was not yet totally accustomed to riding Eaudreuil's, no matter how easy the roan’s gait.

  "How should I know? I'm not an elf!" Tarsus replied sharply. "Maybe they use magic."

  The two men glared at each other for a minute as darkness fell, finally Jack sighed. "Sorry I snapped at you."

  "m'Lord is permitted to snap. When his ass is sore," the Amarian chuckled.

  "Up yours!" Jack smiled. "And stop calling me m'Lord!"

  "Yes, m'Lord," the huge man laughed.

  "No fire?"

  "No fire," Tarsus repeated.

  "I guess we eat a cold dinner," Jack sighed.

  The next morning they ate a cold breakfast as well, and that night another cold dinner. Two days later, the food in their saddle bags ran out with still half of the Silverwood’s left to cross. To make matters worse, that afternoon the wind changed and a cold front blew in from the north. Unusual for late summer. They spent the remainder of the day riding in a chilling drizzle, and that night slept huddled together under the branches of an enormous willow, cold, wet and hungry. As thoughtful as Annawyn had been with their provisions, she had neglected to pack cloaks and they were forced to sleep under the damp saddle blankets of their horses.

  Morning came with the rain still falling and there was no indication it would stop anytime soon. Both men were soaked to the bone and shivering in the chill air. Braedan rolled out from under his inadequate shelter, looked up miserably at the gray sky faintly visible through the heavy canopy of the trees and moaned. "Enough of this! Ailfar or not, I'm building a fire!"

  "Be my guest," Tarsus muttered. "If you can find anything dry enough to kindle in this weather, I'll cook my boots."

  Much to Tarsus' amazement however, he did. Two armloads. And after he lit the fire, he made the Amarian tend it while he went to look for something to eat. About two hours later, Braedan returned triumphantly with two large rabbits. "No boots for us," he said, tossing the hares a Tarsus' feet. "I caught them. You clean and cook them."

  "Gladly," the Amarian nodded, picking up the pair of plump conies with admiration. "If you'll tell me how you found them."

  "Magic," Jack smiled. He saw no need to remind his friend of his ability to hear animal's thoughts.

  "Magic?"

  "Uh huh."

  "Whatever you say m'Lord," Tarsus laughed.

  After the Amarian cleaned and cooked the rabbits and they had eaten their fill, Braedan piled the remainder of the wood on the fire and the two men stripped out of their wet clothing and hung them up to dry. The rain stopped about an hour later and they dressed, saddled their horses, and continued their journey through the Silverwoods. When they halted that evening, Tarsus permitted Jack to build another fire, a small one, and that night they slept comfortably. Though the Amarian did insist they take turns at watch.

  And so it went for the next three days as they repeated the same routine. Braedan would go out after daybreak and return two or three hours later with a rabbit or two or some other small game and Tarsus would clean and cook the catch, marveling at the woodcraft of his friend. Each morning they built a fire to cook their breakfast, and each evening after they stopped for the day, they lit another.

  Once or twice, Jack thought he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and a few times as they made their way through the forest, he had the unshakable feeling they were being watched, but to his disappointment no Ailfar ever appeared. And so it was, ten days after they entered the Silverwoods, the two men emerged on the other side, thinner, but none the worse for the wear.

  Tarsus studied the lay of the land for several minutes, trying to determine their location. He could not be sure exactly where they were, but he had a general idea. To their front ran a wide river, flowing west to east, and beyond it, easily visible on the northern horizon was a tall mountain range, also running in the same direction.

  "Well?" Jack asked. "Any idea where we are?"

  "Unfortunately, yes." Tarsus replied. "We have come farther north than I planned. Much farther. The river before us is the Isinar and yonder you can see the Ruwe Mountains. The way I see it, we have two choices. We can ford here and travel east along the Isinar until it flows into the River Whesguard. Then follow the Whesguard until it passes between the Ruwe Mountains and the Amarian Hills. From there we can go north across the Midland Plains until we run into Great South Road. Then it would be on to Brydium and Brythond."

  "How long will that take?" Jeremiah asked.

  "Three weeks, maybe more."

  "You said we had two choices?"

  "We can head back south until we find a place to ford the Isinar," Tarsus replied. "Then make our way across the open plains until we find the River Cilawen. There is a crossing called the Old Ford on the Cilawen. If we can find it, we'll cross there, then head northwest until we enter the Amarian Hills. There are several villages where we could rest and resupply. It would delay our arrival in Brythond somewhat, but it will ease the remainder of our journey."

  "Did you have a particular village in mind?" Jack asked smiling. "Perhaps one you haven't visited in a while?"

  "Perhaps," Tarsus shrugged.

  "What do you think Eaudreuil?" Jack asked, scratching the roan between his ears. "More slow travel through foothills or a chance to stretch your legs?"

  The Val'anna tossed his mighty head and whinnied loudly. Suddenly Braedan had an amazingly clear vision of open, grassy plains passing swiftly beneath his feet, the wind blowing through his mane. His mane? It was the strongest impression he had ever gotten from an animal. Was there some sort of bond developing between them? The horse was surely the most intelligent beast he had ever met, but was that enough to strengthen his ability to such a degree of under-standing?

  "I'll be damned," Jack whispered.

  "What?" asked Tarsus.

  "Umm...Eaudreuil says south and the open plains," he replied. "Right boy?" The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Again, he received the same vision, this time even stronger than before. "Yeah!" Jack laughed. "That what he says!"

  "South it is," said the confused Amarian.

  The men turned southeast and followed the Isinar River for about ten leagues until it met the River Cilawin. There they stopped for the night at the convergence of the two mighty rivers and built a huge bonfire with driftwood scavenged from the sandy banks. They went to bed hungry however, for not even Jack could find any game along the r
iver's edge. But at least they slept warm and dry.

  The next morning Jack caught three large fish off tackle he pieced together from a sewing kit he found in his saddle bags and some leather thongs. Tarsus cooked the largest of the three, a monster almost two feet long and weighed at least six or seven pounds. While the Amarian cooked, Braedan landed two more fish. They cleaned and smoked them, which took the rest of the morning, then about noon they resumed their journey.

  It took them the rest of the day to find a suitable place to ford, for the River Whesguard was wide and swift moving. Still they were forced to strip naked, bundle their clothes and swim the river, leading their horses by the reigns. Though it served as a much-needed bath, the crossing was not a pleasant experience, for the river was cold from the many mountain streams which fed it in this part of the world.

  Once on the other side they built another fire from driftwood to warm themselves and dry their clothes, which unfortunately had not made the river crossing as well as they had hoped in the saddle bags. Since it was almost sundown, they decided to wait until the morning to continue. They ate one of the dried fishes, collected more driftwood, and then curled up by the fire underneath their still damp blankets. When morning arrived, they filled their water skins and headed east.

  For three days they traveled swiftly across the open plains, and Eaudreuil finally got the chance to stretch his legs. There was plenty of tall grass for the Val'anna to eat and the horses grew as frisky as colts, enjoying this change of scenery. It was greeted less warmly by their riders, however. True, they were glad to be out of the forest and making better time, but the land was barren. Braedan couldn't find any game no matter how long he searched and they were forced to eat and drink sparingly, conserving their meager rations until they reached the River Cilawen.

  On the fifth day they came upon the remains of an ancient road, or what Tarsus informed Braedan was the remains of an ancient road. It was only an indented ribbon in the ground where the grass grew less tall, but it ran much too straight not to be man-made, so he took the Amarian at his word. They followed the trail for several leagues until it came to the River Cilawen. There on the banks of the river, on either side of the ancient path, were two tremendous stone markers.

  "The Old Ford," Tarsus announced. "It was built by my ancestors long ago to ease the transport of granite and marble to the markets of Doridan."

  "How deep is the river here?" Jack asked. That morning there had been a light frost on the ground and he didn't much relish the thought of another cold swim, no matter how much he needed a bath. Fall had come unexpectedly early to this part of the world.

  "Not more than a foot or two," Tarsus replied. "At least that's how deep it was when last I crossed here."

  "And that was?"

  "Maybe twenty years ago," he shrugged.

  "Great," Jack muttered, bracing himself for another cold crossing.

  The water was not as shallow as Tarsus remembered, reaching almost up to their horses’ stirrups, but they did not get wet and also managed to refill their water skins by dipping them in the river as they crossed. Once on the other side, the Amarian stopped his mount, stood up in his stirrups and took a deep breath. "Amar!" he cried. "Enosh hir Tanaevar! Come Jack Braedan! Ride with me!" He flicked Gilasha's reigns and the Val'anna bolted forward.

  "Hey!" Jack shouted. "What gives?"

  But Tarsus was galloping away and shouting in some strange, rolling tongue Braedan had never heard him use before.

  "Crazy Amarian," he muttered. "He wants to race, we'll race! Okay Hoss," he said, kicking Eaudreuil's flanks. "Go get'em!" Eaudreuil reared on his hind legs and with a thunderous neigh the mighty stallion shot out after Tarsus like he had been fired from a cannon.

  They caught up with Tarsus and Gilasha before they had traveled much more than half a mile then rode alongside the laughing the Amarian for more than a league. Though Braedan was leaning forward in the saddle as the Val'anna raced across the plains, wind wiping through his mane and turf flying from his hooves, he could sense Eaudreuil was holding back, toying with the other horse. "Run boy!" he laughed, giddy from the raw power surging into him from animal between his legs. "Run!"

  The horse laid back his ears and put on a burst of speed that left Tarsus and Gilasha behind as easily as if they were but on a Sunday stroll. Jack and Eaudreuil galloped along like this for another league, at one with each other and the earthe thundering along beneath them. Finally, Braedan pulled back on the stallion's reigns and the horse, lathered with sweat and his mighty chest heaving, slowed to a trot. Tarsus caught them a few minutes later, laughing as he also slowed his mount.

  "Feels good doesn't it?" Jack grinned.

  "What do you mean?" the barbarian asked.

  "That war cry and the mad dash? Admit it, you're glad to be home."

  "Perhaps I've missed it…somewhat," Tarsus replied. "All Amarians return here sooner or later."

  "Care to tell me about it?"

  "About what?"

  "Amar of course."

  "What is there to tell," Tarsus shrugged. "To the north..."

  "I know," Jack interrupted. "To the north is Brydium. To the south Denelad and Norgarth. To the west is the Ruwe Mountains and to the east the Bloody Plains. It's hotter than hell in the summer and you freeze to death in the winter."

  "You have a good memory," the Amarian muttered.

  Jack waited for his friend to continue but Tarsus said no more. They rode in silence for several minutes until he prodded further. "And?"

  "And what?" Tarsus asked.

  "Tell me all about it. Tell me about Tanaevar?"

  "Tanaevar is...was a city. The capital of Amar."

  "Until the Second War of the Stones," Jack nodded. “I’d like to hear more.”

  "Do you really wish to hear this?"

  "I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

  "You will undoubtedly hear this same tale when we reach my village."

  "I'll make you a deal," Jack offered. "You tell me about Amar and I'll tell you about the United States of America."

  "Very well," Tarsus signed. "I'm not a good story teller, but I will try. Before the war with the dark King, Tanaevar was a great city, the jewel of the South. It was all white towers and parks and had a palace larger and grander even than King Ellgenn's is today. All of Amar revolved around what happened Tanaevar."

  "The last king to sit upon its throne was Tars Aernin. He was an incarnation of all that was good about our land; young, strong and brave, quick to laugh and slow to anger. But when his wrath was kindled, he was like a thunderstorm. Under Tars Aernin's rule Amar prospered as it never had before. Brydium paid us in Ithlemere for the marble and granite mined in our hills, Doridan gave us Val'anna and the Hiru flooded our treasuries with gold and jewels for the services of our stone masons and artisans to carve and decorate their underground halls. Our men were strong and clean of limb and our women... there were none fairer on earthe. Their skin was like ivory, their hair was as black as ebony and their eyes were as blue as the sky. Princes and noblemen came from every kingdom of Aralon to court them.”

  Not a good storyteller? Jack smiled to himself. He could almost see the glory of Tanaevar while his friend talked.

  "The king had a hundred knights in his palace,” Tarsus continued. “The Galekindar they were called. In the old Amarian tongue the name means Sons of the Storm. Only the Knights of the White Horse in Doridan were their equal in combat. No foul thing dared cross the borders of Amar with the Galekindar and Tars Aernin at their head, ready to ride from Tanaevar's gates and wipe the offense from the face of the earthe. The last years of Amar were years of glory and renown. But...but the dark King put an end to all that in seven short days."

  Tarsus grew silent for a moment, lost in the painful memory of Amar's fall. Braedan could tell recalling these things was difficult, so he did not rush his friend. Eventually, the Amarian continued his tale. "That old man Errand recounted somewhat the tragedy that befell Amar, and you w
ill undoubtedly hear it when we reach my village, so I will not bother you with a long history. After the demon Urioch slew Tars Aernin and destroyed Tanaevar, our people were driven into the hills, to be hunted like dogs. Although Ljmarn Bra'Adan eventually defeated Graith and drove his minions from our lands, the survivors never returned to rebuild the capital and no king ever again sat on its throne."

  "Without Tanaevar to act as its heart and a king for its head, our country was bereft of spirit and hope. Amar became a wasteland and the people fell into barbarism. The king had two sons who escaped the sacking of the city, but what happened to them after they were taken into the hills...is lost in legend. There was once a man who many Amarians believed to be a descendant of Tars Aernin, but he left Amar when he was young, unable to live with the barren shadow his land had become."

  "Tell me about the Bloody Plains," Jack said.

  "The Bergaweld?" Tarsus sighed. "It is a foul place. Sometimes there is an ill wind that blows out of it from the east. It carries the sounds of battle and the cries of the ancient dead. Amarians call it the Ulgon'el. Hell's Breath. If you are unlucky enough to hear this wind, a madness fills you and you take up sword and shield and journey out into the Bloody Plains. What is found out there under this spell, no one can say, for none have ever returned alive after hearing it. Either the ghosts of the slain drive you mad and you wander aimlessly until you die, or you find bands of grim'Hiru and die as your ancestors did, fighting the fallen ones."

  "Did you ever hear this wind?"

  "No," the Amarian replied. "But once, when I was younger, I journeyed into the Bergaweld to within sight of the Margalag Mountains. It’s a foul, desolate place to be sure, but I didn't see any ghosts, or even any grim‘Hiru. Only league after league of endless waste. After that I left Amar. I've only returned once since then. Sad tale, is it not?" Tarsus asked.

  "Yes," Jack admitted.

  "Now it is your turn. Tell me about your land. About the Free States of America."

  "What would you like to know?"

  "Everything."

  "That's a mighty big order," Jack sighed.