by Maggie Furey
Sharalind’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re no mortal,’ she said. ‘You’re Hemifae. How came you to be here, with these ferals?’
‘You are most perspicacious, my Lady.’ Kelon inclined his head in a respectful half-bow. ‘I am Hemifae indeed, and recent events in Eliorand have given those of us who carry mortal blood an uncertain future, to say the least. I escaped when the chance arose and fate threw me in the path of these ferals, who sheltered and helped me as well as they were able, though to them I was tainted with the blood of the Phaerie. I owe them a debt of gratitude, Lady. If you’re willing to help them as you have said, then I can tell you everything you need to know – and a great deal more besides.’
‘That remains to be seen,’ said Sharalind, but she could not hide the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. ‘You will come with me now. The rest will remain here, for the present.’
‘Wait!’ Danel thrust her way forward, though Sharalind’s brows drew together at the human’s peremptory tone. ‘I lead these people. If he goes with you, I should be there too. Besides,’ she added with a sidelong look at Kelon, ‘the Hemifae is not the only one with information. It’s thanks to us that Hellorin is fighting for his life in Eliorand, with his son and heir dead and only his daughter Tiolani, naive and inexperienced, left to rule. Surely that must deserve some consideration, not to mention gratitude, from you.’
Sharalind’s eyes narrowed. ‘It certainly deserves some consideration. If you attacked one ruler, then why not another?’
‘Why would we attack a ruler who is offering us our freedom? Such a one would deserve nothing but gratitude and loyalty from my people.’
For a long moment the two women locked eyes, and a shiver of unease went through Kelon. The very lives of the ferals lay in Sharalind’s hands. Did Danel not realise what risks she was courting, addressing such a powerful user of magic with so little respect?
Then Sharalind shrugged. ‘Very well, I will hear what you have to say.’ Turning away dismissively from Danel, she spoke to Galgan. ‘Captain, will you transport me back to the city with these two?’ Though it was phrased as a question, her tone said otherwise.
‘Take them and welcome, Lady. And the sooner we can get the rest of them off our hands, the better I’ll be pleased.’ The Captain cast a jaundiced eye across the ferals.
‘Bring the Hemifae and that other girl and put them on board the boat,’ Sharalind ordered her escort. ‘Use the time spell – they must be kept under control at all times, and I don’t want them conferring with one another until I’ve had a chance to question them. When we get back to Tyrineld bring them to me – but for pity’s sake have them cleaned up first. They stink worse than a midden.’
With one last, disdainful glance for the ferals she swept out of the shed, accompanied by the Captains of the fisherfolk. Her troops marshalled Danel and Kelon out at swordpoint, marching them down the hill to the dock. Kelon took grateful gulps of fresh air and looked around the neat, well-built village on its beautiful stretch of coast. It looked like such a pleasant place to live; he found himself hoping desperately that he would be allowed to stay here. Before he had time to see much they were put aboard one of the waiting boats, herded into the bows and told to sit down – then the leader of the guards made a strange gesture, and Kelon knew no more.
In what seemed like an eyeblink, Kelon found himself standing in a chamber with walls painted pale blue, and a floor covered in a mosaic of small blue and white tiles. In the centre, like a vision of paradise, was a sunken pool of steaming water, deep enough for him to immerse himself and long enough to stretch out in. The window was curtained with white muslin drapes that drifted gently in the breeze, and shelves of dark wood on the wall opposite the door that held an array of soaps, sponges, long-handled brushes with soft bristles and a selection of perfumed oils in cut-glass bottles. Beneath them, a table in the same dark wood held a pair of large, soft, white towels, neatly folded, and hanging on a hook behind the door was a set of clean clothing; not unlike his own ragged tunic and pants, but in a soft cotton fabric that was probably more suited to this warmer clime.
There was no one in the room apart from himself, but the message was plain, and though his heart lifted at the thought of being clean again, his face burned with shame. Though there had been many worse aspects to living rough in the forest – hunger, cold, disease and danger from any number of predators, not to mention the Phaerie Hunt – he had still been inordinately distressed at having to live in such grime and squalor. Even if he’d had the chance to wash his only set of clothing, there would have been little possibility of drying it, and if an opportunity arose to swill himself down in some icy cold stream, running the risk of chills that might to lead to more serious illness, there was nothing clean on which to dry himself, and the ferals had no soap, or the means of making any. Everyone was filthy and they stank, and Kelon’s loathing of their stench turned in upon himself when he realised that he must smell the same.
Now, looking at the pool of clean, sparkling clear water with curls of steam rising up from its surface, he felt that he would do anything, risk anything, for Sharalind, so intense was his gratitude – even though he realised that she was doing this for her own benefit rather than his. Out of curiosity, he opened the door a crack and peeked out, though he knew what he would find; and sure enough, a pair of guards were stationed outside.
‘Be quick and get cleaned up, you filthy animal,’ one of them growled. ‘You’re not coming out until you do.’
Unable to endure the contempt he saw on their faces, he shut the door quickly and hastened to do as they said. Stripping off the verminous rags he wore and kicking them into a corner, he sniffed at the bottles of oil until he found one that was sharp and spicy rather than sweet and floral. Pouring it liberally into the water, he took the soap and plunged into the pool. It took Kelon a long time to get himself thoroughly free from all the grime, and he enjoyed every minute. At last, dressed in the unfamiliar Wizard clothing and feeling clean for the first time since he’d left Athina’s tower, he opened the door again.
‘Well, that’s better,’ one of the guards said. Though Kelon’s position here was dubious to say the least, he was astonished at how much his confidence had risen through being clean and presentable once more. He gave the sour-faced warrior a jaunty grin. ‘You’ll never know how much better it is – and I hope you’ll never have to find out.’
On hearing such a frank reply from someone of tainted mortal blood, the guard’s brows drew together ominously, and Kelon felt a clutch of unease.
Will these Wizards be any better than the Phaerie under Tiolani’s rule?
He realised that his best chance of surviving and forging a future for himself here in Tyrineld was to make himself as useful as possible to Sharalind, and as the guards marched him off, he began to work out his strategy for doing just that.
As he was taken through a bewildering series of corridors, Kelon couldn’t help noticing that all the Wizards they encountered were garbed as warriors, and all had that grim, flat-eyed look of individuals who had been trained to kill. A shiver passed through Kelon. Just what was he getting himself into? His escort, still unspeaking, took him up a spiral of steps that clearly led up into some kind of tower, and ushered him into a large, sunlit room at the top. It had two windows, one overlooking a high-walled courtyard where Wizards were performing drills using both conventional weapons and magic. The other casement showed the pastures and fertile orchards and vineyards beyond the city, with rolling moorland, stained with the great, magenta swathes of heather, sloping upwards in the distance.
Between the windows the pale yellow walls were covered in numerous maps, charts, lists and diagrams, and opposite the door was a broad, sturdy wooden desk with Sharalind seated in state behind it, in a high-backed chair of heavily carved wood. At her right shoulder stood a steel-eyed woman with a harsh, uncompromising look about her. Before the desk stood Danel, already, to Kelon’s utter dismay, complaining in a loud, shrill
voice. He knew that she was so desperate to save her people, and unfortunately, as the leader of the ferals, having spent a great deal of her life in the harsh environment of the forest camp, aggression was all she knew. Her reaction now, all snapping and snarling, was similar to that of any wild beast that had been captured.
‘We came here in good faith, seeking sanctuary from the cruel Phaerie,’ Danel said. ‘We first escaped into the forest, then came to the fisherfolk, because we don’t want to be slaves any more. Would you deny of your Wizards a chance to better themselves; to improve the lives of their families? We deserve those things too, and one way or another, we mean to have them.’ She put her hands on the desk and leant forward in an aggressive move that had Kelon wincing inwardly. The warrior Wizard beside Sharalind said nothing, but took a step forward, her cold, mean eyes fixed on Danel’s face. The feral leader took her hand from the desk and stepped back hastily.
For the first time, Cyran’s soulmate spoke. ‘Does a pig deserve a chance to better itself?’ she asked contemptuously. ‘Does a cow, or my horse? You forget yourself, human. It may be true that you are one step above the lowly beasts, but you are not on a par with the magical races of this world, and it would pay you to remember that. If you wish to live as the fisherfolk do, you must first prove your worth to the Wizardfolk. With the fish they provide, the humans of Freedom Cove make an important contribution, not only to their own well-being, but that of Tyrineld as a whole. It requires a tremendous amount of experience and skill to learn to read the wind, waves and weather; to anticipate where all the different species of fish will be, each in its proper season. The fisherfolk work punishing hours and risk their lives daily in brutal conditions at sea. Their work is highly dangerous. Many have given their lives in order to preserve the freedom of their compatriots. They have earned their privileged position among us many times over.’
She got to her feet, and looked Danel straight in the eye. ‘Is there any way in which your ferals can prove themselves as the fisherfolk did?’
Danel hesitated for a moment, clearly nonplussed, but she rallied well. ‘Lady, what would you have us do? I suspect that you had something in mind even before you brought me here.’
‘Your instincts do you credit.’ From her dismissive tone, Sharalind certainly didn’t credit Danel with much intelligence. ‘You have already told me what you know about the attempt on the Forest Lord’s life . . .’
Had she? That was news to Kelon. Clearly Danel had been a lot less fastidious about taking a bath than he had, if she’d had enough time to tell the whole tale.
‘But,’ the Wizard continued, ‘you have no real inside knowledge of the current conditions in Eliorand, therefore you are of no further use to me as informants. There is one way, however, in which you can redeem yourselves. I want you to join my army—’
‘Why? So that we can get killed doing your dirty work, acting as bait, going in unprotected against magic users?’ Danel’s eyes blazed with anger. ‘That would solve your problem of what to do with us, wouldn’t it?’
Sharalind shrugged. ‘If I wanted an easy solution for what to do with you, I would have you all killed right now.’ Against Danel’s fire she was as cold as ice, but her eyes and voice held such an intensity that the feral leader took another step or two backwards.
‘As it is,’ Sharalind went on, ‘I see a way for us to benefit one another. You need not fear, we will protect your people from the Phaerie magic in battle as far as we possibly can, and when your able-bodied companions join my force, I give you my word that the others – the young, the sick and the infirm – will be given the best of care here in Tyrineld. I won’t lie to you – I don’t expect all of you to come back from this confrontation, even as I know that not all of my Wizards will be returning. That is a heavy responsibility for me to bear. If we are victorious, however, to those of you who do return we will grant lands in the forest on our side of the border, and all the assistance you need to form a thriving settlement of your own.’
‘And the alternative?’ Danel grated.
Again came that cool shrug from Sharalind. ‘You can always go back and ask the Wild Hunt if they have a better offer.’
Danel’s eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to speak – then closed it abruptly and swung away from Sharalind to stare, scowling, out of the window at the warriors practising their fighting magic in the courtyard below. Sharalind, watching her intently, let the silence stretch out until Danel turned back.
‘All right.’ The leader of the ferals punctuated her words with a curt nod. ‘It’s true that nothing comes free in this world, especially in troubled times. We’ll fight with you and gladly, if we can win our freedom and a place to call our own. I’m tired of running and hiding, struggling and starving. You may think of us as lowly creatures, but we deserve better than that. I only have one question, Lady Sharalind. When all this is over, what guarantee will I have that you’ll keep your word?’
‘Before you take your next breath, I could make you and your people slaves once more.’
Danel faced her squarely. ‘And if you turned us back into slaves, could you trust us to fight for you?’
Sharalind got to her feet and gave the feral leader a long, measuring look. ‘This is Omaira, Head of the Luen of Warriors and leader of my army.’ She gestured towards the steel-eyed Wizard at her side. ‘She will be my witness. And your companion is—?’
‘Kelon, my Lady,’ he supplied.
‘And Kelon will bear witness for you and your people, Danel.’ She held out her hand. ‘Take my hand, leader of the feral humans, and together we will swear allegiance to one another. Give me your word that you will fight for the Wizards with your hearts, your blood, your lives if necessary. I will give my solemn oath to you that your vulnerable ones will be given the best of care, and when the fighting is over, and the Phaerie are defeated, I will grant you lands of your choosing in the forest beyond Nexis, and provide help in clearing, planting and making those lands fruitful; not to mention assistance in building a settlement where your descendants can dwell in safety and freedom for all time.’
‘Done!’ Danel clasped the Wizard’s hand, then blushed, realising her response might not be sufficient for the gravity of the occasion. ‘I mean – I swear we’ll support you in every way you ask, and you’ll have the gratitude and allegiance of my people for all time.’
‘That is, supposing you defeat the Phaerie, of course,’ Kelon said.
Both women swung round with identical scowls. ‘Be quiet. Your turn will come,’ Sharalind told him, then turned her attention back to Danel. ‘I can see why you find this individual so annoying, yet he has information that I must hear, so if you would like to return to your people and tell them the good news, I will make arrangements for comfortable housing for them. But—’ She lifted a warning finger. ‘There will be no more theft, do you understand me? I will see that your companions have all they need, and anyone caught stealing from this moment on will know no mercy. Make it very clear to them, leader of feral humans. If you wish to build a future in the realm of the Wizards, there are certain standards of behaviour that are expected – and will be enforced.’
Danel nodded. ‘That’s fair enough. I’ll tell them all right, don’t you worry. There’ll be no more trouble of that kind.’ With that she left, escorted by one of the guards who had been waiting outside the door.
Sharalind turned to Kelon. ‘Now, Hemifae. What tidings do you have for me that are so important?’
Kelon bowed to her. ‘First, Lady, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart for the chance to be clean again. It was neither in my upbringing nor my nature to live like an animal in the forest, and you have my profound gratitude for restoring my dignity to me once more – but I will waste no more of your time with thanks,’ he added hastily, seeing signs of impatience in the tightening of Sharalind’s mouth.
‘Lady, I fled Eliorand very recently, so I can tell you a great deal about current conditions in the city. But I hav
e other tidings of far greater import to bring you. Not long ago, I saw the Wizard Iriana, and sat in the same room with her—’
‘What?’ Sharalind sprang to her feet, knocking over her chair. ‘Where—’
‘I know what happened to your son.’ Kelon forestalled the question he knew she was about to ask.
Sharalind went absolutely white, and sank back into the chair that Omaira had set upright for her. ‘Tell me.’
Kelon took a deep breath and prayed that he would survive the next few minutes. If she did not believe him, the consequences would be unthinkable. ‘Though Avithan has left this world and is lost to you, he did not die, and maybe there is even the faintest shadow of a hope that one day he may be returned to you.’
‘This cannot be true.’ Her expression darkened, and the look in her eyes turned Kelon cold. ‘I warn you, Hemifae, you toy with my grief at your peril.’
‘Lady Sharalind, I would never toy with a mother’s grief. I swear on my life that I know why and how Avithan was taken from this world, and far more besides: matters of grave importance to the future of our entire world. Danel knows some of this information also, and can corroborate my story.’
‘Then why did she never mention it?’
‘Because she is a mere feral human, Lady; uneducated and unconcerned about any matters save those that impact on her immediate survival, and those of her people. I truly believe she did not understand the significance of the meeting we attended with Iriana and a number of others, including a being of tremendous power who took Avithan beyond the boundaries of our world, in the hope that he could be healed of wounds that were so grievous he must otherwise have perished. Much was discussed at that meeting, and many matters were made clear. You should understand their significance, and particularly in the absence of the Archwizard, it is a matter of gravest urgency that you be informed.’
