Fires of Azeroth

by C. J. Cherryh

  " Elarrh-work," they pronounced it, which meant anything that was above them. They had awe of it, but when there was no amusement to come of it, and no pictures, they drifted away— all but Sin, who squatted barefoot in the dust and tried to copy.

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  Vanye looked up at the lad, who worked so intently, and poignant recollection stirred in him, of himself, who had never been taught, but that he had sought it, who had insisted on having the things his legitimate brothers were born to have— and thereby gained what learning his mountain home could offer.

  Now among all the children of Mirrind, here sat one who reached and wanted beyond the others, and who— when they had taken their leave—would be most hurt, having learned to desire something Mirrind could not give. The boy had no parents; they had died in some long-ago calamity.

  He had not asked into it. Sin was everyone's child, and no one's in particular. The others will be only ordinary, he thought, but what of this one? Remembering his sword in Sin's small hand, he felt a chill, and blessed himself.

  "What do you, khemeis? " Sin asked.

  "I wish you well." He rubbed out the runes with his palm and rose up, with a great heaviness on him.

  Sin looked at him strangely, and he turned to go up the steps of the hall.

  There was a sudden outcry somewhere down Mirrind's single street… not the shrieks of playing children, which were frequent, but a woman's outcry; and in sudden apprehension he turned. Hard upon it came the shouting of men, in tones of grief and anger.

  He hesitated, his pulse that had seemed to stop now quickening into familiar panic; he hung between that direction and Morgaine's, paralyzed in the moment, and then habit and duty sent him running up the steps to the shadowy hall, where Morgaine was speaking with two of the elders.

  He needed not explain: Changeling was in her hand and she was coming, near to running.

  Sin lingered at the bottom of the steps, and tagged after them as they walked the commons toward the gathering knot of villagers. The sound of weeping reached them… and when Morgaine arrived the gathering gave way for her, all but a few: the elders Melzein and Melzeis, who stood 25

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  trying to hold back their tears; and a young woman and a couple in middle years who knelt holding their dead. To and fro they rocked, keening and shaking their heads.

  "Eth," Morgaine murmured, staring down at a young man who had been one of the brightest and best of the village: hardly in his twenties, Eth of clan Melzen, but skilled in hunting and archery, a happy man, a herder by trade, who had laughed much and loved his young wife and had no enemies. His throat had been cut, and on his half-naked body were other wounds that could not have brought death in themselves, but would have caused great pain before he was killed.

  They gave him his death, Vanye thought fearfully. He must have told them what they wanted. Then he reckoned what kind of man he had become, who could think foremost of that. He had known Eth. He found himself trembling and close to being sick as if he had never looked on the like.

  Some of the children were sick, and clung to their parents crying. He found Sin against his side, and set his hand on the boy's shoulder, drew him over to his clan elders and gave him into their care. Bytheis took Sin in his arms and Sin's face was still set and stricken.

  "Should the children look on this?" Morgaine asked, shocking them from their daze. "You are in danger. Set armed men out on the road and all about the village and let them watch. Where was he found? Who brought him?"

  One of the youths stepped forward— Tal, whose clothes were bloody and his hands likewise. "I, lady. Across the ford." Tears ran down his face.

  "Who has done this? Lady— why? "

  * * *

  Council met in the hall, the while the Melzen kindred prepared the body of their son for burial; and there was unbearable heaviness in the air. Bythein and Bytheis wept quietly; but Sersen-clan was angry in its grief, and its elders were long in gathering the self-possession to speak. The silence 26

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  waited on them, and at last the old man of the pair rose and walked to and fro across the fireside.

  "We do not understand," he cried at last, his wrinkled hands trembling as he gestured. "Lady, will you not answer me? You are not our lady, but we have welcomed you as if you were, you and your khemeis. There is nothing in the village we would deny you. But now do you ask a life of us and not explain?"

  "Serseis," Bytheis objected, his old voice quavering, and he put a hand on Serseis' sleeve to restrain him.

  "No, I am listening," Morgaine said.

  "Lady," said Serseis, "Eth went where you sent him: so say all the young folk. And you bade him not tell his elders, and he obeyed you. Where did you send him? He was not khemeis; he was his parents' only child; he never went to that calling. But did you not sense that the desire was in him? His pride made him take risks for you. To what did you send him?

  May we not know? And who has done so terrible a thing?"

  "Strangers," she answered. Not all the words could Vanye understand, but he understood most, and filled in the rest well enough. At the feelings which gathered in the air of this hall now, he stood close to Morgaine.

  Shall I get the horses? he had asked her in his own tongue, before this council met. No, she had answered, with such distraction that he knew she was pulled both ways, with anxiety to be moving and guilt for Mirrind's danger. She lingered, and knew better, and he knew better, and sweat gathered on his sides and trickled under the armor. "We had hoped they would not come here."

  "From where?" Sersein asked. The old woman laid her hand on the rolled map that lay atop the table, Morgaine's work. "Your questions search all the land, as if you are looking for something. You are not our lady. Your khemeis is not of our village nor even of our blood. From some far land you surely come, my lady. Is it a place where things like this are common?

  And did you expect such a thing when you sent Eth out against it? Perhaps you have reasons that are too high for us, but, o lady, if it takes the lives of 27

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  our children— and you knew— could you not have told us? And will you not tell us now? Make us understand."

  There was utter stillness for a time in which could be heard the fire, and from somewhere outside the bleating of a goat, and the crying of a baby.

  The shocked faces of the elders seemed frozen in the cold light from the many windows.

  "There are," Morgaine said at last, "enemies abroad; and they are spread throughout Azeroth. We watch here and rest, and through your young men, I have kept watch over you as best I could… for your young folk know these woods far better than we. Yes, we are strangers here; but we are not of their kind, that would do such a thing. We hoped to have warning— not a warning such as this. Eth was the one— as you say—who ranged farthest and risked himself most. I knew this. I warned him. I warned him urgently."

  Vanye bit his lip and his heart beat painfully in anger that Morgaine had said nothing of this to him… for he would have gone, and come back not as Eth did. She had sent innocents out instead, boys who little knew what quarry they might start from cover.

  But the elders sat silent now, afraid more than angry, and hung on her words.

  "Do none," asked Morgaine, "ever come from Azeroth?"

  "You would best know that," Bythein whispered.

  "Well, it has happened," Morgaine said. "And you are near to the plain, and there are Men massed there, strangers, armed and minded to take all the plain of Azeroth and all the land round about. They could have gone in any direction, but they have chosen this one. They are thousands. Vanye and I are not enough to stop them. What befell Eth was the handiwork of their outriders, seeking what they could find; and now they have found it. I have only bitter advice to give now. Take your people and walk away from Mirrind; go deep into the forest and hide there; and if the enemies come further, then flee again. Better to lose hou
ses than lives; better to 28

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  live that way than to serve men who would do what was done to Eth. You do not fight; and therefore you must run."

  "Will you lead us?" Bythein asked.

  So simple, so instant of belief: Vanye's heart turned in him, and Morgaine sadly shook her head.

  "No. We go our own way, and best for you and for us if you forget that we have ever been among you."

  They bowed their heads, one after the other, and looked as if their world had ended… indeed it had.

  "We shall mourn more than Eth," said Serseis.

  "This night you will rest here," said Sersein. "Please."

  "We ought not."

  "Please. Only tonight. If you are here, we shall be less afraid."

  It was truer than Sersein might understand, that Morgaine had power to protect them; and to Vanye's surprise, Morgaine bowed her head and consented.

  And within the same degree of the sun, there was renewed mourning in Mirrind, as the elders told the people what they had learned and what was advised them to do.

  * * *

  "They are naive people," said Vanye heavily. " Liyo, I fear for what will become of them." "If they are simple enough to believe me utterly, they may live. But it will be different here." She shook her head and turned away for the inside of 29

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  the hall, for there came the women and children down the midst of the commons, to begin the preparation of the evening meal.

  Vanye went to the horses, and made sure that all was in readiness for the morning. He was alone when he went, but when he reached the gate, he heard someone behind him, and it was Sin.

  "Let me go where you go," Sin asked of him. "Please."

  "No. You have kin who will need you. Think of that and be glad that you have them. If you went where we go, you would never see them again."

  "You will never come back to us?"

  "No. Not likely."

  It was direct and cruel, but it was needful. He did not want to think of the boy building dreams about him, who least deserved them. He had encouraged him too much already. He made his face grim, and attended to his work, in the hope that the boy would grow angry and go away.

  But Sin joined him and helped him as he always had; and Vanye found it impossible to be hard with him. He set Sin finally on Mai's back, which was Sin's constant hope, whenever they would take the horses out to graze, and Sin stroked the mare's neck, and suddenly burst into tears, which he tried to hide.

  He waited until the boy had stopped his crying, and helped him down again, and they walked together back to the hall.

  * * *

  Dinner was a mournful time. There were no songs, for they had buried Eth at sundown and they had no heart for singing. There was only hushed conversation and few even had appetite, but there were no animosities, no resentment shown them, not even by Eth's closest kin. Morgaine spoke to the people in the midst of dinner, in a hush in which not even a child cried: babes slept in arms, exhausted by the day's madness, and there was a silence on all the children.

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  "Again I advise you to leave," she said. "At least tonight and every day hereafter, have your young men on guard, and do what you can to hide the road that leads here. Please believe me and go from this place. What Vanye and I can do to delay the evil, we will do, but they are thousands, and have horses and arms, and they are both qhal and Men."

  Faces were stricken, the elders themselves undone by this, which she had never told them. Bythein rose, leaning on her staff. "What qhal would wish us harm?"

  "Believe that these would. They are strangers in the land, and cruel, even more than the Men. Do not resist them; flee them. They are too many for you. They passed the Fires out of their own land, that was ruined and drowning, and they came here to take yours."

  Bythein moaned aloud, and sank down again, and seemed ill. Bytheis comforted her, and all clan Bythen stirred in their seats, anxious for their elder.

  "This is an evil we have never seen," said Bythein when she had recovered herself. "Lady, we understand then why you were reluctant to speak to us.

  Qhal! Ah, lady. what a thing is this?"

  Vanye filled his cup with the ale that Mirrind brewed and drank it down, trying with that to wash the tautness from his throat… for he had not shaped what followed them and now threatened Mirrind, but he had had his hand on it while it formed, and he could not rid himself of the conviction that somehow he might have turned it aside.

  One thing of certainty he might have done, and that regarded the Honor-blade which he carried, a kinslaying that might have averted all this grief.

  In pity, in indecision, he had not done it. To save his life, he had not.

  And Morgaine: indeed she had launched what pursued them, more than a thousand years ago as Men reckoned time… men who had not trespassed in Gates. Her allies once, that army that followed them— the children's children of men that she had led.

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  There was much that wanted drowning this night. He would have gotten himself drunk, but he was too prudent for that, and the time was too hazardous for self-indulgence. He stopped short of it, and, likewise in prudence, ate— for the wolves were at their heels once more, and a man ought to eat, who never knew whether the next day's flight would give him leisure for it.

  Morgaine too ate all that was set before her, and that, the same as his, he thought, was not appetite but common sense. She survived well… it was a gift of hers.

  And when the hall was clear, she gathered up what supplies they could possibly carry, and made two packs of it… more than to distribute the weight: it was their constant fear that they could be separated, or one fall and the other have to continue. They carried no necessity solely on one horse.

  "Sleep," she urged him when he would have stood watch.

  "Trust them?"

  "Sleep lightly."

  He arranged his sword by him, and she lay down with Changeling in her arm… unarmored, as they had both slept unarmored since the first night in Mirrind.

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  Chapter 3

  Something moved outside. Vanye heard it, but it was like the wind, stirring the trees, and did not repeat itself. He laid his head down again and shut his eyes, drifted finally back to sleep.

  Then came a second sound, a creak of boards; and Morgaine moved. He flung himself over and came up with his sword in hand before his eyes were even clear; Morgaine stood beside him, doubtless armed, confronting what suddenly appeared as three men.

  And not Men. Qhal.

  Tall and thin they were, with white hair flowing to their shoulders; and they bore that cast of features that was so like Morgaine's, delicate and fine. They carried no weapons and did not threaten, and they were not of that horde that had come through at Azeroth: there was nothing of that taint about them.

  Morgaine stood easier. Changeling was in her hand, but she had not unsheathed it. Vanye straightened from his crouch and grounded his blade before him.

  "We do not know you," said one of the qhal. "The Mirrindim say that your name is Morgaine and your khemeis' is Vanye. These names are strange to us. They say that you send their young men into the forest hunting strangers. And one of them is dead. How shall we understand these things?"

  "You are friends of the Mirrindim?" Morgaine asked.

  "Yes. Who are you?"

  "Long to tell; but these folks have welcomed us and we would not harm them. Do you care to protect them?"

  "Yes."

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  "Then guide them away from this place. It is no longer safe for them."

  There was a moment's silence. "Who are these strangers? And who, again, are you?"

  "I do not know to whom I am speaking, my lord qhal. Evidently you are peaceloving, since you come empty-handed; evidently you are a friend of the Mirrindim,
since they raised no alarm; and therefore I should be willing to trust you. But call the elders of the village and let them urge me to trust you, and then I may answer some of your questions."

  "I am Lir," said the qhal, and bowed slightly. "And we are where we belong, but you are not. You have no authority to do what you have done, or to tell the Mirrindim to leave their village. If you would travel Shathan, then make clear to us that you are friends, or we must consider that what we suspect is the truth: that you are part of the evil that has come here, and we will not permit you."

  That was direct enough, and Vanye clenched his hand on the hilt of his sword and held his senses alert, not alone for the three who stood before them in the hall, but for the undefended windows about them. In the firelight, they were prey for archers.

  "You are well-informed," said Morgaine. "Have you spoken with the Mirrindim? I think not, if you consider us enemies."

  "We have found strangers in the woods, and dealt with them. And we came to Mirrind and asked, and so we were told of you. They speak well of you, but do they truly know you?"

  "I will tell you what I told them: your land is invaded. Men and qhal have come through the Fires at Azeroth, and they are a hungry and a dangerous people, from a land in which all law and reason has long since perished.

  We fled them, Vanye and I… but we did not lead them here. They are prowling, hunting likely prey, and they have found Mirrind. I hope your dealing with them let none escape back to their main force. Otherwise they will be back."

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  The qhal looked disturbed at that, and exchanged looks with his companions.