Rebel Fay

by Barb Hendee

Osha jerked his head up to look at her, studying Wynn's round face and wispy brown hair, but his expression held no malice. He went back to fanning the fire, then he sprinkled some powdered spice over the fish and a savory smell filled the air.

  Chap sat up and whined. Magiere hoped he'd wait until the fish finished cooking before helping himself.

  The other two elves finally approached, carrying large leaves, which they handed to Osha. All was quiet but for the crackling fire, and then Wynn's eyes popped open.

  "Do all Anmaglâhk speak Belaskian?" she blurted out.

  Leesil looked to Sgäile. "Well, do they?"

  Sgäile frowned. "Some… Osha is learning at present."

  Groggy and exhausted, Wynn still seemed unaware that Sgäile avoided speaking to her.

  "Wynn," the sage said to Osha, pointing to herself, and then to the others in turn. "Magiere… Leesil… Chap."

  Osha blinked, glancing tentatively at Sgäile, then bowed his head briefly to Wynn.

  "You placed a name upon a majay-hì?" Sgäile asked.

  All the elves appeared unsettled by this. The woman hissed something Magiere didn't catch and turned away.

  "Wynn, that's enough," Magiere warned.

  "Should we not be introduced," Wynn asked, "if we are to travel together?"

  Sgäile stood up in discomfort. Again, Osha glanced at him, clearly uncertain if he should speak. Then he pointed to the elven woman off among the trees with her back turned.

  "Én'nish," he said.

  "Én'nish…" Wynn repeated sleepily, "the wild, open field."

  Osha pointed to the elder man. "Urhkarasiférin."

  "Shot or cast… truly?" Wynn tried to translate.

  Osha scrunched one eye and looked up to Sgäile, who nodded.

  "And Sgäile," "Wynn added.

  "Sgäilsheilleache," he corrected, the first words he'd spoken to any but Leesil since their earlier standoff.

  "Willow… shade…" Wynn murmured.

  "Sgäile it is, then," muttered Leesil.

  Magiere tried to retain the names. Hopefully, shortened ones wouldn't cause offense, not that she cared much if they did. To her relief, Osha finally lifted one trout off the fire, and all attention was diverted as he deftly slid it onto a large leaf.

  He boned the fish, cut the fillets into pieces, and, using smaller leaves as plates, passed them around in no particular order. Sgäile worked on the next trout. He fanned a full fillet to cool it before placing it on a leaf for Chap. Urhkar picked up two servings and joined Én'nish off in the trees.

  Magiere took small bites. She still wasn't hungry, even after three mouth-fuls that smelled and tasted better than any fish she could remember. She continued to nibble rather than have Leesil or even Wynn make a fuss about her not eating. Once her own companions finished, she put a hand on Wynn's shoulder.

  "Lie down and sleep."

  The sage didn't argue. She scooted over to lie on the ground, but she stopped halfway.

  "Oh, Sgäile, whoever keeps watch should take care. We encountered a tashgalh this morning. I have not seen it again, but you would know what they are like."

  To Magiere's surprise, Sgäile spoke directly to Wynn with concern.

  "A tâshgâlh? Where?"

  "That little rodent?" Leesil asked. "We found it in a cave on the mountain. It didn't seem dangerous."

  "But troublesome," Sgäile answered carefully, and gestured out into the dark. "The majay-hì should warn us, and Osha will stand first watch."

  Magiere looked where he pointed. Here and there a shadow moved. She saw the shapes of the dogs among the far trees, some near enough that their eyes glimmered from the firelight.

  Wynn lay down and pulled her blanket up, and Chap curled in next to her as always.

  Both Sgäile and Osha stared with differing degrees of astonishment. Osha's mouth opened slightly as Leesil spread his cloak out on the ground and reached for Magiere. She lay down on her side.

  Osha turned quickly and walked away. Sgäile followed without a word.

  Magiere put her back against Leesil's chest. He pulled the blanket up and placed his palm on her temple, slowly stroking her head and hair.

  "This isn't what I expected," he whispered.

  What had he expected?

  "We'll find Nein'a," she whispered back.

  "I know. Go to sleep."

  Magiere heard his breathing grow steady and deep. Once certain he'd drifted off, she reached over him for her falchion left leaning against the stump. She tucked it under the blanket next to herself with her hand on its hilt.

  She lay awake for a long time, not tired enough to sleep, strange as that was. She listened but couldn't hear the elves above the forest's soft sounds.

  Magiere finally closed her eyes and tried to drift off…

  She suddenly found herself walking the forest in darkness, alone, wondering how she had gotten so far from the camp.

  Pieces of the night moved around her between the trees.

  Here and there, half-seen shapes shadowed her. Their colorless and glittering eyes watched her, as if waiting for her to do something.

  These were not majay-hì. They walked on two legs. And in her belly she felt their hunger. She smelled it, like blood on the damp breeze, and her own hunger rose up in answer.

  The forest began to wither around her, until the stench of rot made her choke.

  Magiere snapped her eyes open with every muscle ridged from the nightmare. It felt disturbingly familiar, as if she'd seen such a vision before. Lifting her head, she found the fire was now little more than glowing embers.

  She didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Four

  B y midmorning, Wynn's fear of becoming lost succumbed to awe as she walked the elven forest. Patchy lime-colored moss cushioned her footfalls as she followed the others. With all her ink and journals gone, it was heartbreaking to witness such diverse flora without a way to take notes.

  Fresh food and a night's rest had revived her, and the pain in her shoulder had dwindled to an intermittent twinge, but her improved mood still wavered. This was a desperate search for Leesil's mother, and their guides were now the Anmaglâhk. These elven assassins were manifested dark shadows of the Leesil that Wynn had come to know in the Warlands.

  Yet, she found them fascinating. Their ways were so different from the elves on her continent. She tried to mentally note everything about them for later records. Once she returned to her guild in Bela, she would write extensive work comparing the two elven cultures of the world as she knew them. And how stark the contrasts were or might yet be, for she had not met any elves here besides Sgäile's caste.

  A temperate breeze rustled the foliage, and she pushed Chane's cloak back over her shoulders.

  What would he think of this place? His interests lay in distant times back to the Forgotten History, and how societies evolved from unknown beginnings in the aftermath of the great war. He was always more interested in studying the past than the present.

  Wynn pushed aside thoughts of Chane. He was part of her own past.

  Sgäile led the way with his comrades following behind their guests. The pace was too slow for him, as he often paused after stepping too far ahead, but he made no complaint.

  Wynn avoided looking back at Én'nish walking at the procession's rear. The woman was no less angry than in their first meeting. Silent and stoic Urhkar walked in front of his bitter comrade, and Osha came directly behind Wynn.

  All four elves left their cowls and face wraps down. There was some significance in this, as secrecy seemed paramount to their ways. Perhaps they simply felt at ease in their homeland.

  Leesil and Magiere walked ahead, behind Sgäile, and Chap trotted beside Wynn with his head turning at every new sight. His nose worked all the time, and Wynn often heard him sniffing as his muzzle bobbed in the air. She looked about at the lush flora, and more than once her boot toe caught on a root, stone, or depression when she was not paying attention to the trai
l.

  Of all their escorts, Osha betrayed the most curiosity about the interlopers. He was so tall that when he stepped close, Wynn had to tilt her head back to see up to his chin. She felt awkward and rather too short. His hair was white-blond like Leesil's and hung loose to the center of his back. His somewhat horselike face was not nearly so handsome as Sgäile's, but it was pleasant. Although quiet, he was certainly the most polite of their guides.

  They passed a large weeping willow with vivid orange fungus growing up its trunk's northern side. The color was so eye-catching that Wynn wandered absently toward the tree. Chap rumbled at her, following partway, but she ignored him in her rapt fascination.

  "Osha, what is this?" she asked in Elvish, and pointed to the shelves of fungus. "The edges look like seashells."

  Osha hesitated, looking to Sgäile as if awaiting instructions. He finally joined her.

  "It is called woodridge," he answered in Elvish, and he put his hand against the fungus, closed his eyes for an instant, and then broke off a small piece to offer her. "It is safe to eat, though pungent until properly cooked."

  His strange conjugations and declinations took time to comprehend. It reminded her of the oldest texts she had been permitted to browse at the elven branch of the guild on her own continent. It made some sense, for these elves had lived in isolation for centuries, while their counterparts of her world interacted with other races more freely.

  Wynn put the orange lump near her lips and breathed in its scent. It smelled of wet earth. She snipped it with her teeth. A sweet sensation flowed over her tongue.

  "Very good."

  The taste thickened suddenly, bitter and pastelike. She swallowed, trying not to grimace, and smiled. Osha nodded in approval with perhaps a little surprise.

  "Wynn, what are you doing?" Magiere called. "Did you just eat that?"

  "Osha said it is safe."

  Chap stood stiff and silent, watching the tall young elf, and then cast a glare Wynn's way.

  She knew that look on his furry face. She did not care for his parental disapproval.

  Wynn stuffed the hunk of woodridge in her pocket and hurried to catch up, as both Magiere and Leesil looked uncomfortable. She stepped back into the traveling line with the others.

  Since Osha was the most amiable among his group, she continued questioning him in Elvish. His answers were short, but at least he answered—with occasional glances toward Sgäile, as if expecting admonishment. Sgäile remained silent, not once looking back.

  Wynn kept her questions to the world around them, though she wanted to ask of the people here. Intuition told her not to do so. A few times Osha paused after an answer, about to say something in turn. Perhaps he had questions of his own. He seemed intensely puzzled or startled by the way she acted and spoke, but he never asked. They passed an oak so large that its trunk was far wider than Osha's height.

  Wynn stared at it a bit too long. "How old is this one?"

  "As old as the forest perhaps," Osha answered. "The trees are the bones and blood of its body."

  At this, Sgäile looked back sternly. Osha fell silent, dropping his eyes as he stepped out ahead of Wynn.

  She was uncertain whether to be disappointed or worried. Clearly Sgäile thought the conversation had gone on long enough. Hopefully she had not gotten Osha into trouble.

  Leesil slowed, his irritation far plainer than Sgäile's.

  "What is wrong?" she asked.

  "How could anything be wrong?" he muttered. "I haven't understood a word all morning."

  "Leesil… you brought me because I speak Elvish—and you do not."

  He sighed, grudgingly. "I know, I know… but I didn't think it would be like this—not understanding anything that anybody said."

  Wynn was not sure which would be worse—a Leesil completely inept with the language or one able to proficiently express his ire in Elvish. He remained silent a moment, then looked up thoughtfully at Osha in a way that made Wynn nervous.

  "I'll ask him if he knows how far away my mother is."

  Before Wynn could grab him, Leesil quick-stepped up beside Osha.

  "A-hair-a too bith-a ka-naw, too brah?"

  Osha's mouth gaped.

  All four elves came to a sudden halt. Any tentative curiosity in Osha's long face turned to horror. He glared at Leesil, and a stiletto appeared in his hand.

  Magiere dropped a hand to her falchion's hilt. Before she could do anything stupid, Wynn scurried in between Osha and Leesil. She turned on Leesil angrily but never got out a word before Én'nish thrust her heel into his tailbone.

  Leesil sprawled forward as Én'nish drew her long stilettos. Wynn floundered out of Leesil's way, stumbling back into Osha, who caught her under the arms. She flinched at the sight of his blade appearing in front of her.

  Leesil tried to roll, but the chest on his back hindered him. Even Urhkar was caught off guard as Én'nish rushed in. Leesil pulled his own stiletto as he spun around on his knees.

  "Bârtva'na!" Sgäile barked at Én'nish and grabbed the back of Magiere's pack. "Stop this now! He does not know our tongue."

  Én'nish slapped away Urhkar's attempted grasp and slashed at Leesil's face. He ducked and spun on one knee, swinging a stiletto on his pivot. Én'nish bent rearward at her midsection like a willow branch, and the blade tip cleared her stomach. She tried again to close on Leesil.

  Chap rushed in and snatched her cloak from behind. He bolted around her side, twisting her in its cloth. In the same instant, Wynn lunged from Osha's support. Én'nish, intent with fury and shocked at a majay-hì hobbling her, did not see the sage coming.

  Wynn swung, and her palm cracked loudly against Én'nish's cheek.

  "This is your oath at its best?" she shouted in Elvish, and then gripped her throbbing hand. It was a challenge to Én'nish, and even to her comrades, for this violent breach of guardianship.

  Én'nish turned upon the sage. When she raised one of her blades, Urhkar angrily grabbed her wrist. She held her place without resisting him.

  Wynn shook with sudden fear as she turned and found Sgäile on guard beyond the tip of Magiere's falchion.

  "Is this what the oath of guardianship is worth among your people?" Wynn asked.

  "No!" he answered flatly, and his hard gaze turned on Én'nish. "You have our deep regret for this shame… it will not occur again."

  Osha still looked offended, but his expression melted into shame as Wynn glared at him.

  "Leesil does not know what he said," she explained. "It was a mistake, not an insult."

  Osha nodded and sheathed his blade as Leesil did the same.

  "Please… put up your weapon," Sgäile said. With an open hand he cautiously tilted Magiere's falchion aside and then closed on Én'nish. "Ajhdjhva ag'us dicheva!"

  Én'nish spun away and stalked past all of them into the lead. Osha followed her with his eyes lowered as he passed Sgäile. Leesil stood baffled.

  "What just happened?" Magiere asked.

  Wynn ignored her, turning all her fear-fed anger on Leesil. "What did I tell you?"

  "All I asked was how far to—"

  "No, you did not!" Wynn clenched her fists. "You said his mother is 'nowhere,' and that he knew it… and you said it wrong, even at that. You called his mother an outcast!"

  Magiere let out a deep sigh.

  "Wait…" Leesil started. "I didn't mean—"

  "Shut your mouth!" Wynn shouted. "And never again speak Elvish to an elf!"

  Leesil blinked. He looked down at Chap for help, but the dog just licked his nose with a huff.

  "That would be best," Sgäile added quietly.

  "Don't blame him," Magiere warned. "However he bungled his words, it had nothing to do with Én'nish."

  "Yes… and no," Sgäile replied. "Én'nish is the daughter of Osha's mother's sister by bonding… similar to what you call marriage."

  "So she takes it on herself to step in?" Magiere asked. "Because she's his cousin by marriage?"

  "No, not pre
cisely," Wynn added. "Relations are a serious matter among elves—and more complex than Sgäile can state in your language."

  Magiere shifted toward Sgäile. "That had nothing to do with kin."

  "She is… was… the bóijt'äna of Gróyt'ashia," Sgäile said pointedly. "The closest term you would know is a 'betrothed.' "

  The name was unfamiliar to Wynn. She was about to ask when Sgäile turned sharply away to follow Osha.

  Brief puzzlement passed quickly from Magiere's face and her gaze dropped as her dark eyes slowly closed. Wynn heard the creak of leather as Magiere squeezed the falchion's hilt.

  "Who is Gróyt'ashia?" Wynn asked.

  When no answer came, she looked down at Chap, but the dog's eyes remained on Leesil. Without acknowledgment, Chap quickly trotted after Sgäile.

  Magiere wouldn't look up. She sheathed her falchion and strode after the others.

  Leesil just stood there in cold silence.

  "What did you do?" Wynn asked, not certain she wanted to know.

  Grôyt… Grôyt'ashia.

  Magiere had heard the name once before. It echoed in her head with Brot'an's voice as he had shouted it in Darmouth's crypt. She'd turned to see Brot'an's young accomplice and Leesil trying to kill each other. It ended with Leesil soaked in blood—again—as it spilled from Grôyt's split throat.

  It hadn't been Leesil's fault. Not that death. But Magiere couldn't stop from wondering. How many women—or men—in Leesil's life path waited for someone who would never return?

  It wasn't his fault. Not for what Darmouth had made Leesil do to survive… do for his parents' lives, and all because of what Nein'a made him. Magiere closed on Sgäile from behind.

  "It was self-defense," she said quietly, so the others couldn't hear.

  "I am aware of the events involved," he answered without stopping.

  "You knew… and you let Én'nish come with you?"

  "It was not my choice to make."

  "No more dodging!" Magiere snapped, too loudly, and grabbed Sgäile's shoulder.

  He spun about, jerking free before she could get a true grip. "You know nothing of an'Cróan ways," he warned, "with your simple-minded human…"

  He stopped himself as his eyes wandered across her face and hair.