Knowing that each grove had originally designed their human forms, Daniel couldn’t help but think that the Gaelyn She’Har must have terrible taste, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
“Why are the baratti gathered here?” he asked, directing his question to Daniel.
Setting his instrument aside, Daniel answered, “Pardon my ignorance, master, but I do not know your name to address you properly.”
“I am Syllerond,” responded the She’Har.
“Master Syllerond, these people came to hear music,” explained Daniel. He had had few interactions with the She’Har directly, other than Thillmarius, and the few meetings he had had with Lyralliantha. In general they had always seemed rational to him, if indifferent and sometimes cruel. Thillmarius had taught him that his punishments, while painful, were not malicious, but rather the result of cold calculation. As a result of learning his lessons, Daniel had not required ‘correction’ in years.
“Who has given you permission to make such noise and disrupt the peaceful functioning of Ellentrea?” asked the She’Har.
No one, thought Daniel, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Thillmarius had doubtless noticed his music-making months ago and hadn’t seemed inclined to punish anyone for it. Ellentrea, and all those within it, except for Daniel himself, were the property of the Prathion Grove. If anyone were to punish them, it would have been Thillmarius or someone under his direction.
Daniel was the sole exception, being owned by Lyralliantha. The Illeniel Grove had never owned humans before, so Thillmarius had graciously agreed to provide for Daniel’s care and feeding, as a favor to Lyralliantha. Daniel knew it was primarily an excuse so that Thillmarius would have free reign to study him. In any case, his punishment wouldn’t come at the hands of a She’Har of the Gaelyn Grove, unless he offered some offense.
Daniel knew better than that.
“Thillmarius oversees us here,” said Daniel, reciting a fact that Syllerond must already know. “He has not forbidden it,” he added truthfully.
“You are Tyrion, the wildling, are you not?”
“Yes, master.”
The She’Har’s eyes narrowed, “Your tone is arrogant. Do you think that your victories in the arena make you greater than the She’Har?”
“No, master,” Daniel replied meekly, keeping his eyes downcast.
Syllerond frowned, “Your answer is correct, but I doubt your sincerity. What is that?” The Gaelyn She’Har pointed at Daniel’s instrument.
A shock of fear ran through him. Syllerond might hesitate to do any harm to the property of another grove, but the humans of Ellentrea owned nothing. Daniel’s cittern was fair game. “It is my musical instrument, master. My people call it a ‘cittern’.”
“Your ‘people’?” questioned Syllerond with a sneer.
Daniel knew his mistake instantly. It was something that even Thillmarius was prone to be irritated by—the suggestion that humans were ‘people’. “I meant no disrespect, master,” he apologized hastily.
“I know exactly what you meant, baratt,” said the She’Har. “Give me the device.”
Daniel hesitated. He already knew that no matter what he did, he would be punished. Syllerond was probably one of the Gaelyn trainers for Garoltrea; most of the She’Har didn’t bother to learn the human language. Once Syllerond spoke with Thillmarius the Prathion trainer would have no choice but to discipline Daniel. Still, he couldn’t bear to hand over the cittern. Its music had saved him. Without it there would be nothing worth living for.
Cold sweat appeared on his brow, and the memory of Thillmarius’ punishments threatened his bladder control. “Please, master, it is of no value,” he begged. His hands pushed the instrument further behind him.
Syllerond lashed out with his fist, striking Daniel hard. He had no shield up, nor would he dare to create one in the presence of one of the She’Har. The blow sent him sprawling onto the hard packed earth that served as a street in Ellentrea, his cittern fell to the ground a few feet away.
Lifting his leg, the She’Har made as if to smash the wooden instrument with his foot. Without thinking, Daniel pushed himself away from the ground and threw himself bodily against Syllerond’s legs to keep him from damaging the precious instrument.
“You dare?!” shouted the Gaelyn She’Har, eyes wide with rage.
Daniel knew he would die then. He had done violence to one of ‘the people’.
Syllerond summoned up a deadly looking spellweaving, creating a long black rod of interwoven aythar and raising it above his head. Stricken by fear, Daniel cowered.
Death would have taken him then, but for one thing. Before the blow could be delivered, a woman ran from the crowd, throwing herself over Daniel as a shield. The black rod struck, and seemed to dissolve against her skin as the lines of power that comprised it sank into her body, twining and twisting like worms sinking into soft soil.
“Out of the way, trash,” said Syllerond coldly, kicking Amarah away from Daniel. Her body was twitching, and he could see the She’Har spellweaving inside her, shifting and moving as it destroyed her flesh from within.
“No!” screamed Daniel, as if his voice alone could deny the reality in front of him. Amarah was writhing on the ground, dying, and there was nothing he could do for her. Syllerond paused, seeming to delight in watching the drama unfolding before him.
Amarah gazed intently at him as she writhed, and Daniel understood then, what she had never been able to articulate before. Her lips opened, “Thank you for my name…”
Sorrow was something Daniel lived with, and depression was an almost daily companion. Anger and violence he had learned to accept, but love was something he had given up hope for.
He had been unsure if it truly existed, and now it was gone before he could appreciate it.
“Be fearful, baratt, for the nameless one’s fate awaits you,” said Syllerond.
The paralyzing fear that Thillmarius’ past torments had instilled in him vanished, replaced by a formless fury that left no room within him for anything else. Staring up at Syllerond, Daniel’s mind hardened and became clear, suffused with the clarity that he normally only felt when in the arena. Death was a gift, his eventual reward, but first he would share his pain with the foe who stood before him.
“Her name was Amarah,” said Daniel.
The She’Har stood looking down on him; a new rod, already prepared and waiting for its victim, was in his hand. His confidence, developed from countless decades dealing with human slaves, was so great that he hadn’t bothered to erect any sort of defense. Syllerond began to laugh at Daniel’s pronouncement of her name.
He simply can’t conceive of a human threatening him, noted Daniel.
“Burn!” said Daniel, sending his will out with a speed that he knew would surprise his tormentor. The air around the Gaelyn She’Har ignited and encased him in flames.
His power was even more effective than he had expected, almost as if the word had reinforced his imagination. Daniel had spoken purely in anger, but the back of his mind noted the effect, and he resolved to test it later.
There won’t be a later. They’ll kill you for this, his inner voice reminded him. But this one dies first, though.
The flames winked out, smothered instantly once Syllerond managed to focus past the pain and fear that the searing fire had wrought. His hair was gone, leaving nothing but charred remnants and burned skin where it had been. His face was ruined, covered in a mixture of blisters and blackened skin, much like the rest of his body. The She’Har’s eyes were seared and opaque.
He had to be in considerable pain, but other than that, and the cosmetic damage, Syllerond was still a serious threat. He didn’t need eyes to see, Daniel knew that already. The burns might inhibit his movement, but they wouldn’t interfere with his magic.
A strange shield surrounded the She’Har now. Unlike those used by Daniel and the other human mages, this shield was not smooth, but rather composed of a legion of tiny interwoven line
s of aythar. Within the lines, Daniel could see tiny symbols linked together, but the overall effect made it look as though Syllerond’s shield had been created by twining vines around himself.
Syllerond’s mouth opened as he attempted to speak, to threaten the man who had burned him, but he had inhaled some of the flames, and his voice was unintelligible.
Daniel had a shield around himself, but it was purely from reflex. He knew from past experience that his shields, even if reinforced by a drawn circle, wouldn’t do more than slow down She’Har spellweaving.
If you can’t stop the attack, make sure you aren’t where it lands.
Hundreds of matches in the arena had made Daniel’s responses in combat smooth and automatic. He had seen the tricks of a multitude of opponents and learned to deal with them. Some he had copied or improved.
Fighting against Prathions had often made him wish for their invisibility, but had also forced him to develop his own alternatives. Using his aythar to whip the air, Daniel raised a cloud of dust and dirt around them, but he didn’t stop there. Rather than just creating a cloud of dirt, he imbued it with his aythar, making the cloud opaque in a way that obscured not just normal vision, but magesight as well.
Syllerond still hadn’t moved from his position, but he lashed out with the spellwoven rod he had created, using it as a staff. He swung at the area that Daniel had recently been standing in, but failed to hit anything. Extending his power, the staff grew to a length of more than ten feet, and the She’Har began to whip it around himself, hoping to hit anyone or anything nearby.
Daniel had already moved beyond that range, and his mind was working on his options for attack. The She’Har’s ability with spellweavings gave him a tremendous advantage, but his overall strength was less than half of Daniel’s, a fact that surprised him.
He isn’t much stronger than the human mages I’ve fought. In fact, he’s weaker than some of them.
The magical dirt cloud obscured Daniel’s senses, but he didn’t have to guess at Syllerond’s location. The She’Har had obviously never fought in a serious battle before; he remained standing in the same location, confident that his shield would protect him from anything.
Daniel began to send a barrage of rocks and stones at him, accelerating them to incredible speeds with his aythar before directing them at the center of the cloud. He was fairly sure none of them would break the other’s shield, but they kept his foe focused on defense. The She’Har had released his spellwoven rod and was now responding by sending spear-like lances out, striking back along the trajectory of Daniel’s stony missiles.
As if I would be fool enough to send them from my current location, or to stand still if I did. Daniel’s contempt for his opponent’s ineptitude was growing.
He had to be careful, though. A lucky hit would probably impale him. The She’Har’s spellweaving would tear through any shield he could create, regardless of its strength.
The thing about shields, particularly when they were impenetrable, was that they resulted in a sense of security that was generally unfounded. Most of the time, Daniel was on the other end of the stick, and because of that he had experienced first-hand many of the techniques an enemy might use to kill someone who stayed too long in one place, secure in their advantage.
The simplest was to bury them, removing the ground they stood on and covering them with it, but most experienced mages were quick to prevent a fall by creating a shield beneath themselves. Another method that Daniel occasionally used was to create a larger barrier outside the defender’s and then make the environment intolerable, either by filling it with flames, or simply removing the air itself.
That required the attacker to be, not only stronger than his opponent, but also to be able to create a shield that his enemy couldn’t break. In this case Daniel was stronger, but Syllerond’s spellweaving would make it easy for him to breech any containment Daniel created.
A change in the air alerted Daniel that something had changed, causing him to switch directions and run further back until he was at the edge of his cloud. A nightmare of tentacles exploded outward, flailing around him. One connected with his shield and began to curl around it, while more came to reinforce its hold.
He’s a Gaelyn, fool! Daniel had been so preoccupied with trying to plan an attack that would defeat the spellwoven defense, that he had forgotten to take into account that his enemy had the special gifts of the Gaelyn Grove.
Sheathing his arms in razor sharp blades of force Daniel struck out, slicing away the thick fleshy arms that were grasping at him. Unfortunately, Syllerond had taken an immense size, though, and the wounds were of little consequence to him. The cloud of dust began to dissipate as Syllerond summoned a strong wind to disperse it, and Daniel noticed one thing immediately.
He dropped the shield when he shifted.
The human mages he had fought were usually careful to keep their shield up when they transitioned from one form to another. The few who weren’t careful didn’t live long.
That special shield he uses must be too difficult to maintain while he transforms—and he’s too proud to use something inferior like a simple shield in the interim.
Visible to each other now, Syllerond’s shield was already back in place, and his impossibly long tendrils wrapped themselves again around Daniel. He sliced at them with his bladed arms, but the She’Har’s defense kept them whole despite his best efforts. He fought to anchor himself, but the tentacles pulled him inward with irresistible strength.
Daniel’s own shield was still intact, for the spellweaving around Syllerond was defensive in nature, not being designed to cut through another’s shield, even one as simple as a human’s.
A voice emerged from the maw of the nightmare beast. Apparently Syllerond had repaired his voice during his transformation. “I have you now, baratt. I’ll crack your pathetic defense and strip the flesh from your bones while you scream.”
“Thanks for the kindness,” said Daniel as he drew near to the center of the pulsating mass of flesh and disturbingly sharp looking teeth, “but I’ll pass.”
There was nothing he could do to hurt Syllerond now, but he hadn’t survived so long without developing a finely tuned killer’s instinct. Daniel had already formed his plan. Sending his aythar down into the soil, he focused until he had a firm grasp on the ground beneath them before ripping it upward, propelling both of them skyward with violent force.
Using the earth to knock an opponent upward was difficult to defend against, much more so than pulling it out from underneath them, but it was usually not particularly damaging, especially if they had some means of saving themselves from a fall. Gaelyn mages in particular tended to shift almost instinctively into a form that would enable them to fly, turning a disorienting moment into a sudden advantage in mobility.
Daniel was betting that a She’Har of the Gaelyn Grove would react similarly.
The tentacles around him vanished as Syllerond’s flesh flowed inward, contracting to form the body of some large raptor. As before, his shield vanished for a brief moment.
Daniel lashed out, and his bladed arms cut neatly through Syllerond’s almost complete bird form. With an ignominious squawking noise, the She’Har died and fell away in two distinct halves. Daniel fell with him, gravity taking its inevitable hold on his body.
It wasn’t his first big fall, however. Stretching out his aythar, Daniel created a wide circular half dome of aythar beneath him, leaving it open in places, so that it functioned like a fine sieve, allowing air to pass but only with some resistance, slowing his descent. The main difficulty lay in balancing himself on top of it. He managed that by pushing and pulling at the wind around him, but he wondered if there might be a better way.
Settling to the ground, Daniel spared no more time thinking of his dead enemy. He went instead to Amarah’s body. She lay where she had fallen, thoroughly dead, but most of the damage was internal. Inside, her organs had been shredded, but outwardly he could find little wrong with her.
Wet drops fell to the dusty ground between his feet. Sitting down beside her, Daniel pulled her body up and against himself, so that it appeared as if she was sitting in front of him, resting her back against his chest. He stroked her hair and then wrapped his arms around her, as if the embrace might somehow ease the terrible ache within his heart.
Not daring to move, he used his mind to draw the cittern back to his hands, lifting it carefully into the air. “Let me play you one more song,” he told her, whispering into the hair beside her ear. He eased the instrument into place across her lap, so he could reach around her and play it. It was something they had done a few times in the past, when she had been the only one to hear his music.
He didn’t think on it consciously, but his fingers began to play ‘Dana’s Lament’ as soon as he put them to the strings. He tried to sing the words, but his throat closed and the words became choking sobs, so he gave up and just played the music, letting the gentle chords soothe him.
Chapter 31
Daniel played for an indeterminate period of time, until Thillmarius found him there. The other humans of Ellentrea had fled during his battle, and none dared to return while he played. They feared being killed or punished for what had happened. None wished to be associated with the death of one of ‘the people’.
The Prathion She’Har stood and listened until Daniel finished playing through the song one more time, his eyes caught up in thought. When silence returned at last, he spoke, “You’ve surprised me again, Tyrion.”
Daniel ignored him.
“This will have interesting repercussions. No one would have thought you could kill one of my people, even one as arrogant and foolish as Syllerond.”
“Does that mean your experiment was a success or a failure,” asked Daniel blandly, his voice coarse and heavy.
Thillmarius raised his eyebrows, “Oh most definitely a success, and a far greater one than I ever dared to imagine. But the results make it clear that there are many factors involved that were not properly considered in its design.”
The Mountains Rise Page 22
