by Dan Brigman
Approximately one hundred paces deeper into the valley, Melek squatted next to a great post oak. He breathed lightly and placed his hand on the trunk of the grand tree. Melek sniffed the air to get a sense of what moved through the night, as he knew he needed to focus on the present. He sensed nothing out of place; a fox trotted a few paces from where he held his position. Melek silently chuckled to himself at the ease of moving through the night without being detected by the creatures calling this land their home.
Abruptly, Melek heard an odd noise coming from the direction of the campsite. He honed his hearing on the noise. A moment later Melek realized his friend slept soundly, his snores plain. He felt wetness on his cheeks and cut back a cry of astonishment. Melek wiped away another tear sliding down his cheek. The full realization of what he had been prepared to do overwhelmed the defenses he had built up since his childhood. He knelt to the ground next to the tree and his entire body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. Melek let the tears drop freely to the ground.
Several moments passed, and control of his wits eased. In between the sobs, Melek sensed the night’s stillness and peace suffused his attention. Melek’s loss of his faculties over the past few minutes shook him to his core.
“Why’s this happening now?” he whispered to the night. “I need my strength, or it may cost my friend’s life,” he mused. The sobbing slowly diminished, as Melek refocused his mind on the task in front of him. “I’ve a friend who is losing his nerve. I may have to end his life swiftly. The damned blood binds him to me, yet the runes will see fit to end his life.” He spat on the ground with that thought.
Melek closed his eyes and sighed deeply to rid himself of the unpleasant aura which permeated his very existence in a matter of just a few hours. The night’s noises remained still, and to Melek, it seemed the nocturnal animals felt his great sadness. Somehow, he sensed their mourning for a loss to his being that would never be replaced.
Melek stood, pushed off the tree, and stalked back to the campfire. The night’s sounds resumed in intensity with each step, which became a nearly deafening roar after the complete silence. Einmyria’s light still gave him plenty of illumination to move through the dark. As Melek came closer to the fire, he heard an infrequent gentle popping from the remnants of the campfire. Intermixed with the fire’s sounds, he heard Loken’s gentle snoring and the steady breath of the unconscious stranger. He looked at the man at the light’s edge; Melek wondered if he was the cause of all this upset in his friend’s life.
“How can one person be the cause of this grief and fear?” Melek asked the sleeping stranger while staring at the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Melek half-expected the man to sit up and answer the question.
He looked askance one last time at the sleeping figures. They seemed to be content, so he quietly drew his dagger out of its leather sheath. Earlier, he had noticed a silver maple growing not too far outside the fire light. With careful steps, he moved next to the tree and gently leaned against its trunk. The sturdiness of the tree somehow grounded his mind back into surroundings he found to be vaguely familiar. With a satisfying sigh he pulled a whetstone from the leather pouch he had made as a boy. Melek still remembered his father teaching him how to stitch the pouch together, and how his father said he had done a good job making it. Despite everything, the memory brought a slight smile to his face.
Melek brought the whetstone across the dagger’s edge in practiced strokes. The sound of a blade being sharpened held a calming effect Melek never could explain but simply embraced. Within a few strokes the cadence of the schink, schink overwhelmed the pressure of the evening’s events, which fell to the back of his mind. A slight breeze blew overhead, and the rustling leaves of the valley’s canopy drowned out Melek’s work; he looked around every few minutes thereafter. As Melek continued sharpening throughout the remnant of the night, the wind blew without abating. Hours passed quickly while Melek sharpened his blade without any hesitation or reason to stop. When Sol’s rays shone through the high canopy, Melek grunted in surprise at not realizing how much time had passed. He raised the dagger to the morning’s yellows and oranges and smiled with satisfaction at the dagger’s honed edge.
“Sharp enough for what?” Melek’s voice quavered with a tinge of anxiety. He quickly sheathed the weapon and moved the few paces to the camp with little thought for remaining silent.
“Get up, Loken. We can’t dally this morning,” Melek stated.
Loken woke with a start and seemed to not know where he was. Since he had fallen asleep hours ago his eyes had become sunken.
“You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep. I hope we can make good time today?” Melek asked in an even tone. The physical and mental exhaustion of the past day’s events finally struck him. Despite the wave of exhaustion, he forced himself to move with purpose as he prepared breakfast for the two men. Melek turned his head as he uttered to himself, “I can’t let him see my fatigue or it’ll be the end of us both.”
“Did you say something?” Loken asked through a wide yawn.
“Just a prayer to the gods to keep anymore evil away,” Melek replied. “Even an Originator’s help would be welcome.”
“Good, because I think before the end, we are going to need at least one to help.”
Melek paused. He opened his mouth to ask to which being Loken was referring, then shrugged. Doesn’t really matter, does it? Neither are real. A breath later he threw several oak logs onto the fire and hastily filled the pot with water.
Loken drank deeply from his water skin and walked to the still-unconscious figure. He softly kneeled next to the man then lifted his head enough to place the water skin to his lips. The stranger’s thirst seemed unquenchable to Loken as the half-sleeping form drank several shallow draughts. After a few moments, Loken laid the man’s head back to the ground and noticed Melek busily preparing the morning’s meal.
Within half an hour of precise action the men had eaten, prepared the horses, and cleared the campsite of any signs of their stay. Melek quickly checked the man’s wounds; they seemed to be healing with no sign of infection, and he told Loken as much. He carefully positioned the bandages back into place.
“Loken, we’ll change the bandages tonight. We must move now,” Melek said in a tone which brooked no argument. With a grunt, Melek lifted the figure and placed him atop the stranger’s horse. Melek strapped him into place with a hemp rope which Melek had stowed on his horse. He checked the knots twice to ensure their tightness. Once, he had seen a man fall off a horse and crack his head open on the rocks below the beast’s hooves. Melek had no intention of letting this man die until he cleared up the mystery of his actions in this valley. And how he knew Arstle. “My only hope is that one of the masters allows me to hear this man’s words,” Melek pondered aloud.
“I’m sure he will, Melek. You and I are the only ones who know what he said, so we should be guaranteed a spot at the fire.”
“Weeks ago, I would have agreed with you. Things have changed so quickly, I fear the masters have changed, too.” Looking away, Melek sighed and continued, “The fear is still plain on your face Loken, and I know what I’m capable of.” Melek paused to let the words sink into his friend’s mind. Turning, he faced his old friend; Loken’s eyes stared blankly downward at the ground. Melek knew him well enough to see that Loken was in careful consideration of his next words.
“Loken, we must move now,” Melek emphasized forcefully, hoping to bring Loken out of his short-lived and self-induced trance. Melek did not wait for a response. He moved quickly to his horse while holding the reins of the stranger’s Hustian stallion. In one swift movement he placed his foot into the stirrup and pulled himself onto the saddle. Loken caught the movement in his peripheral vision and snapped himself into focus. He knew he had a task to complete and Melek would not wait one more minute to start the trek back to their clan’s home. His horse stood patiently five paces away staring at Loken. His massively powerful legs stood ready to churn through miles of soil and
rock.
With a grin Loken nearly jumped from his position onto the horse’s back. “I see my friend’s fervor has returned,” stated Melek mildly.
Loken’s mind seemed to become as clear as the crisp early morning. The arrival of the morning sun pushed away some of the darkness and doubt which had clouded his dreams and thoughts throughout the night. Loken glanced and saw Melek staring directly at him. One of Melek’s rare grins touched his deep brown eyes, which brought Loken’s grin back. They stared into each other’s eyes for the span of a moment and both knew that their lives had forever changed with the night’s events.
No matter, Loken thought. We must fight this unwelcome feeling of dread that festers in our minds. If we don’t, the end is nearer than we ever believed. Melek nodded almost imperceptibly at Loken, as if he had read Loken’s thoughts. Loken examined the path sweeping through the valley ahead. Both men kicked their horses’ flanks together and did not look back at the site that would haunt their memories.
Blight-ripped humans became a necessary creation after The Dread filled the waters. A creation that must be enhanced, no matter the cost. They will offset the nascent corruption witnessed by those professing the supposed wonders of Alteration. I must work until my kind overshadow those who seek to oppress us.
Amant Journals
Volume 12, page 42
5900 Runic Reckoning
5 — Second Thoughts
Ellia glanced back at Kylia and Eosy while gripping Celex’s hand, the roughness of her hand held tight against his soft palm. Their lips had chapped from the cold breezes since leaving their home in Durik’s Pass three days ago. The brief respite in Tallvon had faded, and even Celex had stopped asking how much further it would be to grandpa’s house. Ellia’s sharp retort had prompted his sullen silence. Hours later the children’s confusion and weariness met with the late winter breezes to cut off any unnecessary words.
The children, all three of them, had proven more resilient than Ellia could have imagined even after their two borrowed mounts had died. The final moments before the horses’ deaths flitted through Ellia’s mind every few minutes. She had prayed. To what exactly, she couldn’t remember, but simply praying that death would not find them. Why had I pushed them too hard fleeing from Durik’s Pass?
Kylia and Eosy stared down at the road as they had walked since breakfast, grudgingly striding forward. Celex’s bright blue eyes stared upward at Ellia every few minutes, but his eyes turned ahead trying to see whatever Ellia focused on.
“Children, we don’t have much further before the sanctuary. We’ll rest there for the night.”
“How far, mama?” Eosy asked in curious tones.
“Just a few more miles, Eosy,” Kylia responded, forestalling Ellia’s reply. Ellia looked over her shoulder flashing her oldest daughter a smile. Celex, still holding Ellia’s hand, turned back to Kylia, his eyes scrunched with confusion. Ellia looked down, her green eyes catching Celex’s attention.
“We used to travel this road many times to visit your grandfather when you were all much younger; but your father’s activities have kept him too busy afield. He needed our support.” She hoped her voice had not belied her frustration.
“Where is father?” Celex asked. “I miss him.”
“Celex,” Ellia replied, with a glance at Kylia, “I’ve already told you. Einar—your father—needed to continue his work. He is very busy. We will be staying with your grandfather for some time while your father works. I’ve already written to him to let him know to expect us soon.” I hope they don’t despise me one day for deceiving them.
“Oh,” Celex replied. “Well, I hope he can come visit soon.”
Ellia sighed and then could only smile. His short, black hair stuck out in places from the lack of a warm bath to tame its wildness. The smiled faded when she looked back up at the road ahead. The years of Einar’s long absences had bundled into one tight knot which churned in her stomach. Let this energy keep me moving forward.
The miles passed quickly, despite the cold, clouded sky hiding the sun’s warmth. Their worn, well-fitting boots snugly wrapped around the woolen socks Ellia knitted during the long winter nights. Her decision to whisk the children south had been long pondered but discussed with no one. She knew whomever she spoke to would try to convince her she would be making the wrong decision. Think of the children without a father, they would say. She could even imagine her replies. They already do not have a father or at least one that cares enough to stay more than two nights at home in a week. Valen and Saen had been her closest confidants and friends, but either one would have warned Einar that something was wrong to change his behavior. And he would have changed, at least for a while. Then back to the wilds and his books—never any semblance of normalcy.
She wondered, even now, how he would take the letter she left on the table. A simply written message, yet it had to be simple. To catch his attention. If he truly wanted them back, he would seek out his family. She doubted it, though. The house will be empty for him, of course, but it would suit his needs. He would no longer be required to play the role of father and husband as he had for the last fifteen years. Twelve of those years had been consumed with the children—at least her time had been consumed.
She glanced at Kylia, her oldest. Ellia was always amazed by the girl’s intelligence. The sunlight light played upon the brown skin surrounding her green eyes. They always burned bright; no matter where Kylia’s eyes focused, she did not simply look. She scrutinized. Already tall and thin for her age, she never let her hair hang low enough to touch her shoulders. Her hair now was hidden by the deep charcoal cloak cinched around her neck. The cloak touched the tops of her boots, and she had buttoned its entire length. She had one hand in a pocket, while the other gripped Eosy’s mittened hand.
Ellia felt in her pouch for what must have been the hundredth time to find the family’s trimming shears. Kylia would be unbearable if her hair grew too long. Kylia held her head high and shoulders back, always. Not with arrogance, but confidence long past her years, gained through the life of being an Alterator’s daughter. Her confidence had grown sharply in the past year, and Ellia had kept Kylia late in the evenings while her siblings slept, asking her how school had been going. One long chat streamed until both moons shone bright. Ellia had tried then to get answers about a bruise on her face. All Kylia would claim was that she stumbled. When Ellia pressed deeper, Kylia’s pupils had become black pools shimmering with unfallen tears. Ellia let the question drop and kissed Kylia on her cheek. The next morning, though, the bruise had disappeared. At Ellia’s confused questioning, Kylia shrugged her shoulders, saying something about that it must not have been that bad after all.
Eosy caught Ellia’s glance and smiled, her lips still red despite the cold. Ellia could not help but smile back. Even at nine, the girl was a scant half foot shorter than her older sister. Nearly all muscle. The girl had more energy than anyone Ellia knew, and she knew Eosy would take the challenge of traveling so far south as an adventure. Ellia smiled again, as the thought of Eosy’s positivity emboldened her. She had noticed, and thanked Eosy with kisses upon her cheeks and hugs throughout the day, that Eosy’s energy had seemingly helped Celex and Kylia contend with their predicament. I promise to make a halo of Day Stars when they pop. Even for a day, her beauty will be glorified for even the Originators.
Daylight offered them additional and welcome light, days from spring’s arrival. Enough that the roadside sanctuary came into view as they topped a slight ridge in the roadway. Celex gasped, a smile flashing up at Ellia before he released his grip to run ahead a quarter-mile. Even though he was two years younger than Eosy, Celex could outrun all the children at the Durik’s Pass school. His feet put up puffs of dust with each step, dust that would become snow-covered soon, based on the gray clouds hanging overhead. The swirls of whites, grays, and darker charcoal-colored clouds urged a shiver up Ellia’s spine. Another shiver followed a sudden sharp, chilled breeze.
Ellia slowed, letting Kylia and Eosy take the lead to the sanctuary until finally even Eosy’s own itch to move prompted her to run. She met Celex. He had already started gathering firewood—sticks and branches—that had fallen around the half-moon, waist-high wall. A few oaks and maples, Ellia could not remember their types, had been trimmed high enough for horses and their wagons to pass without drivers striking their heads.
The entire enclosed area could have held twenty people and ten horses. Wagon wheel ruts circling around the back of the wall went deep into the soil. Additional wagon tracks, increasingly shallower, spread further out from the first set. Ellia guessed that at least five rows of tracks lay interspersed around the massive trunks. The rock wall had been here long before she had traveled this road, and the wall’s stones had been fitted perfectly, or so it seemed. Now, though, the cedars encompassing the sanctuary grew at irregular distances along the wall like living towers reinforcing a castle’s outer wall. Some stones moved around the slow-growing cedars, but the mason’s work was so well done, even the wood’s implacable growth could not push most stones aside. Trunks were forced to grow around the stones. Ellia felt a flicker of a smile as the memory of asking Einar about this sanctuary rushed unbidden before her eyes.
“Does Alteration keep the wall together?”
At first, Einar replied with a simple shake of his head. For several long minutes, he stared at the stones with his head tilted with eyes squinted. “I’ve never thought about it, but you may be right. Good eye.” Almost fifteen years later, the memory still reddened her cheeks.
Kylia spoke as Ellia wiped the memory away. “What did you say, dear?”
“Are you too cold, mother? Your face seems more chilled than the rest of us.” Her concern flushed Ellia’s cheeks further.
“No, daughter. Help them start a fire, please. Keep Celex under a close eye. I’ll gather water for the evening.”
