by R. M Garino
The Elder was grim and untouched by the humor as he crouched down next to Quinn. Drawing his belt knife, he inscribed a circular cut around the beast’s ankle. When that was completed, he scored a line from it up the leg. Sticking the knife in the dirt, he grabbed the two flaps of skin and pulled them apart, pulling the beast’s skin from the muscle. Retrieving his knife, the Elder made short work of parting the muscle and tendon from the bone. With a sharp twist the bottom leg came off, and the Elder held it up before the crowd.
“They smell worse than the inside o’ Felman Swamp,” Sean said. “Dinna think it were possible, but ’tis so.”
The Elder ignored the man, and passed Quinn the leg bone. “Tell me what you think.”
Quinn hefted the bone, a surprised expression on his face. “’Tis light,” he said, bouncing the bone in his hand. “’Tis very light.”
“It’s hollow,” the Elder said. “If you look close, you’ll see small holes all through the bone.”
Quinn held the bone close, and then passed it on to Diyanni, who shared the find with his sons.
“Shrulks don’t breathe like we do,” the Elder said. He picked up his knife, wiped the blade on a piece of cloth, checked the edge, and stood to re-sheath it behind the small of his back. “When they run, they don’t exhale through their nose or mouth; they do it through their bones. All they need do is inhale. Its makes them frightful fast.”
“’Tis the truth, and sure ’tis,” Diyanni said as he passed the bone along to Sean. “Fast as a nightmare, or a heart attack they are.”
“But,” the Elder said, “this is also their weakness. Hollow bones are not strong. A good blow will shatter them. A blow from my fist is as effective as a blow from a sword.”
“Tis why we use heavy shields,” Quinn said. He scratched his beard as he stood, his thumb hooked behind his belt. “Round shields with iron rims. Bash ’em as well as cut ’em.”
“Precisely,” the Elder said. “For every problem there’s a solution. For every difficult path, there’s a way through.”
“Wise words, Elder,” Quinn said. “We would be well to remember them.”
“That choice is yours, my friend,” the Elder said. “Life is, after all, the choices we make, and how we live with the consequences.”
“What do we do with it?” Quinn said, indicating the beast with a thrust of his chin.
“We leave it,” the Elder said. “Their meat turns rancid quickly. More likely it would be spoiled before we returned.”
“Nothing eats shrulk,” Diyanni said with a shake of his head.
“I only know of one creature that does,” the Elder said as he measured the distance the sun still had left to travel before it touched the horizon. “It might find itself thankful for any easy meal if we leave it.”
“Aye dinna know if’n aye wanna make friends with anything which eats shrulk,” Sean said.
“I’m of a mind to head back,” the Elder said. “It will be dark soon, and I’m thinking we’ll want stout walls around us tonight.”
A murmur of assent ran the circle of the small crowd.
“A full belly’d do me right,” Sean said, smacking his palms against his middle. The man was tall, almost up to the Lethen’al’s shoulder, but he was thin and lean. How that equated with his near insatiable appetite, the Elder did not know, but there it was. Yet another mystery surrounding the humans.
“Will there be more stories, Da?” one of Diyanni’s younger boys said. Diyanni clapped his son’s shoulder.
“Aye dinna know,” he said, “but ’tis devoutly to be wished, lad.”
The Elder regarded the shrulk lying dead and partially butchered on the forest floor. The sight of the beast called up many memories. Much of them pleasant, some sad, but all connected to her. The Elder was nodding without realizing he was doing so.
“Yes,” he said at length, “there will be more stories tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The Grand View
The Gates of Golorath; Winter
304 years ago
Winter in the heights of the mountains meant endless amounts of snow. For the graduates at the Gates, it also meant clearing the snow. The training did not halt for the weather. Certain classes were shifted indoors, while others continued unabated, even as the fat flakes piled up around the Blades. Throughout it all, the snow had to be removed from the parade field and training pits.
Today, however, was different.
Today, was the beginning of the Conclave ceremonies.
It was rare that the Mala’kar, the Bladeless Masters of the Areth’kon, met in formal Conclave. When they did, however, it was a time of tremendous ceremony and celebration. Everyone had their favorite champion, and all were quick to recite their hero’s various accomplishments. Arguments were common and vociferous, though ensuing duels were few. The following of a particular hero was easy to ascertain, as thunderous roars of voices and striking shields welcomed the bravest, the fastest, the most cunning, the most attractive.
Most arrived at the Gates alone, walking or astride their great lo’el. Some entered with a small entourage around them. They were stoic and silent, their eyes never still nor fixed on any one spot. If they enjoyed the tumult that greeted them, they gave no sign. No one in the crowds ventured too close. Though not many in number, they carried themselves with the calm assurance that they had an army at their command.
Arielle felt the excitement the same as everyone else, and she rushed through her assigned chores so she would have time to dress and present herself in proper fashion. It was more than just the feasting, dancing, music and storytelling that prompted her enthusiasm. Her father was here, along with her brother. Sadly, her mother and sister were still at the Vaults. Helenah would have to miss this one, but her mother would be here for the actual Conclave. Gauging her image in the large mirror of the communal bathhouse, she felt satisfied that she was presentable.
“Sorry,” Arielle said. She bounced twice on the balls of her feet checking to see if they were all ready. Things had been strained between them of late. Indeed, in the weeks since Angus’ clandestine visit they had become snappish and surly. She had found herself spending more and more time away from them, and they seemed to resent her independent action. Thanks to Caradoc’s clairvoyance, they had also voiced a strong suspicion that Angus had violated the security of their barracks. She was looking forward to spending some quality time in their company during Conclave. At least a little bit.
“Took you long enough,” Darien said as she approached. “We were about to go down without you.”
“We would do no such thing,” Denuelle said. “Ignore him. He’s impatient. He has a crush on one of the Mala’kar, though he won’t say which one.”
“You’re one to talk,” Darien said. “I saw you practicing your smile all day in the kitchens.”
“I don’t need to practice,” Denuelle said, tossing her full blonde hair over her shoulder. “Are we ready?”
A general exodus answered her. They bounded down the stairs without any pretense of dignity, each as eager as the next to begin the celebration.
They crossed the ornate stone floor of the covered threshold. By the time they’d taken a dozen steps, Arielle became aware of a new presence beside her. A hand slipped into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She knew Angus was there even before he’d moved. She tried to maintain her composure and not draw attention to him, especially this close to the entrance to the barracks. It was hard to do, as her sin’del still reacted to his presence. She was thankful at least that she no longer lit up the surroundings whenever he drew near. They’d spent enough time together in the past few weeks for their famous light shows to become more controlled.
You shouldn’t be here, Arielle sent Angus. You’ll get caught again. You know they don’t like you getting this close to the entrance.
I get caught every other time, Angus sent, and she delighted at the touch of his mind. They rough me up a little bit and sen
d me on my way. No big deal. I think they’re getting used to me.
And why do you think that?
Less blood spilled. They’re starting to go easy on me. Really, it’s as if their hearts are not really in the game anymore.
Arielle giggled. You’re noticing that too? We seem to be affecting everyone around us.
So long as they leave us be, I wish them all the peace in the world.
In the two weeks that followed his visit, Angus had been caught a total of seven times near the barracks. He apparently found it a point of honor to escort her to the front door, but even when he entered the Ri’en to become invisible, there were still incidents. Four times he had been dumped without ceremony on the doorstep of the infirmary to be healed. He had returned the favor on three separate occasions. It did not deter him, and it did not deter her. Perhaps that explained why she was more aggressive than usual when she sparred against a squad or pack from her barracks. They would learn, eventually, that they not only had to deal with the wounds he inflicted upon them, but those she gave them afterwards.
She was glad to have him near, regardless of the risk. They merged onto the parade field without incident, moving with ease through the throng.
Ba’ril glanced behind just as they were squeezing through the doors, as if to say something to her. His eyes widened when he saw Angus, but he kept his mouth shut. His sin’del pulsed with that sickly greenish hue; she suspected there’d be trouble with him before long.
Angus had become a near continual presence in her thoughts, and the sensation granted her a level of peace she was not used to. Still, she would have to do something about Ba’ril at some point. No good that would come of letting him fester.
But not tonight. Tonight, she was going to enjoy herself.
“Do you want to be close up, or have the grand view of things?” Angus said.
Normally she’d want to get to the front of the line—she was eager to see her family, and they’d all have a position of honor in the procession—but she’d see them at the celebration to follow, and would be able to speak with them then. Angus was watching her with an expectant expression. The wry grin and the slight quiver of his sin’del told her that he had something in mind. The very notion sent a dancing patter of goosebumps running along her arms.
“The grand view!” Arielle said.
“Excellent choice. This way.”
He drew her along, toward a set of steps worn into the cliff face. They entered an exposed walkway that meandered along the cliff, and then entered the mountain proper. By the third turn, she’d lost her overall sense of direction, but followed along behind him without hesitation. He drew her into a corridor that ended with a rough-hewn wall. There were no doors or windows, just an assorted array of items in storage. At the sight of the isolated, dead end she stopped, pulling away.
“What is this?” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “Don’t worry. I didn’t bring you up here to ravish you. Unless, of course, you want me to. I’d be fine with that.”
She swatted his shoulder with the flat of her palm. It was becoming a habitual action where Angus was concerned. His idea was tempting, but she wanted to see the view he’d promised. He held out his hand to her. With feigned reluctance she recanted, and he led her further into the gloom.
“This is where it gets a little tight,” he said. He had stopped at the rear wall, just beside a tall stack of dusty boxes. The light of the soul lamps was just a dim memory here, and the shadows hung thick among the crates. His sin’del shone bright and vibrant in the semidarkness. “You should be alright, but you might need to give me a little push now and again.”
So she did just that. Reaching out she pushed him against the wall. Moving closer, she stroked along the curve of his jaw. He pulled her to him and kissed her, enough for them both to forget the purpose of their presence there.
“We should have just gone to your cell,” he said as they paused to catch their breath. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the impassioned beating of his heart. His words pulled her back to reality.
“The entrance!”
“That’s pretty much what I was thinking.”
Arielle slapped his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “We’re missing the procession.”
“No we’re not,” he said. He took her hand again, kissed the back of it, and moved to the deep shadows in the corner. A breath of a breeze brushed against her cheek.
“We found this on first night,” he said. “Thomlin and I got caught on the floors below. We were totally innocent, by the way. We were not doing anything unsavory, I assure you.”
“Where are we, exactly?” Arielle said.
“Above the Mer’Chien barracks,” he said. “Believe it or not, they’re all connected. Most of the tunnels have been sealed off, or forgotten about, but they’re still there for the intrepid explorer to find. For some reason, the members of House Mer’Chien didn't take kindly to two Kal’Parev scrubs wandering around their library. Believe me, it is not as impressive as they claim.”
“So they chased you both up here and you used this crevice to escape?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “And we used it again later that night to glue two dozen of their boots to the ends of their beds. You’d be surprised at how lax their security on the upper floors is. Given their reputation for being so secretive, I honestly expected better.”
“Here we are,” he said.
The walls disappeared with her next step, and the evening opened up before her. A large, gray boulder prevented her from seeing anything other than the darkening sky. The first of the stars were beginning to appear as the sun completed its retreat behind the mountains.
“This way,” he said. He led her around the boulder, slow and careful. “There’s a bit of a drop here, so watch your step.”
The valley spread out before her as she rounded the stone, and for a moment she forgot to breathe. The host below was indistinct from this distance, but the lights from the lanterns and soul lights glittered. Tiny si’ru drifted and fluttered on the wind like a sprinkling of sprites. The entirety of the procession route, from the bridge to the field, was visible from their vantage, and the cacophony of cheers and music reached them as a blended echo.
“What do you think?” Angus’ voice was subdued, as if in reverence for the moment.
Arielle watched the procession from her new perspective. “It’s beautiful,” she said when she’d collected her thoughts.
He urged her to sit with him, their backs against the boulder. The night was turning out better than she had hoped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Third Squad
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Angus said. They entered the mess hall holding hands, as they had for almost every meal over the past two weeks. He had his suspicions that their hectic schedules were not coincidence, as they were the only ones to have extra duties added to their already heavy load. Nevertheless, they still found odd moments, like mealtimes, to be together. By this point, they were no longer attracting stares and gasps of astonishment. Most had got used to the idea of their relationship, and many even approved. There were still glares shot at them from the Fel’Mekrin tables, but it went no further than that.
Even his friends were subdued on the topic for the most part. He experienced none of the usual jabs and comments that were so often traded when new relationships formed. Granted, most of them had confessed that he was out of his mind for even harboring a hope. Thomlin, his usual tormentor, had proven to be the deciding influence on the squad’s treatment of his relationship with Arielle. He had told them all over dinner to leave off. If anything, they’d become very protective of the pair, even though Angus had not yet formally introduced her to them. He intended to rectify that slight tonight.
The mess was reconfigured for the Conclave, and the center of the room was taken up with one long communal table housing the
Mala’kar. A broken outer square of tables were reserved for the Elc’atar and Yearlings. Beyond that, along the periphery of the cavernous room and pressed up against the walls were the tables and benches for the blades and graduates. A communications array was organized along a far wall, allowing the proceedings to be recorded for storage and dissemination where necessary. Most major events, such as the Gauntlet, the testing for Elc’atar, and the pledging ceremonies were transmitted across the entire Patresilen, to be viewed in the communal halls in the villages. A pair of Magi flittered around the devices, making sure that the equipment and smooth gemstones used to house the information were calibrated. Angus felt the pull to get a closer view of the array, but decided against it. It would be there through tomorrow. There’d be plenty of time to play with it later. Although there was no ironclad rule as to seating, squads tended to take their meals together for efficiency. Tonight the norm held sway, although some broke their pattern to sit with friends and relations from elsewhere.
As they approached the table where the Third sat, Arielle pulled Angus to a stop. He lifted a wondering eyebrow at her hesitation.
“On one condition,” she said. She brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, a movement Angus had come to associate with her feeling nervous.
“What’s that?”
“I get to introduce you to the Twelfth,” she said. He could see her determination glittering through her, accompanied by a fair amount of anxiety. If anything, her unease spiked when she announced her condition. It was obvious she was nervous about meeting his friends, but even more so for him meeting hers.
Angus bowed his head to her. “Of course. I’d be delighted.”
“But you have to behave,” she said. “They’re not very happy with us. They’re not quite sure what to make of it.”
“Logan’s sister?” he said.
Arielle nodded her head, a little too fast, revealing her nervousness.
“And cousin,” she said. “Ba’ril’s their cousin. They’re both a little touchy on the subject, though Ba’ril is worse than Gwen.”
