Elanraigh

by S. A. Hunter

  Oak Heart, recovered from the surprise of the giant raptor’s attack, swung his sword striking the Memteth’s shoulder. The raider roared. Planting his foot against his dead companion’s chest, he shoved the corpse off his sword. Shifting his weapon to his uninjured arm, seeming oblivious to his massive wound, he charged forward. Leon ducked beneath the wild sweeps of the giant’s sword.

  Leon’s injured leg betrayed him. It gave out, crumpling beneath him. The Memteth raised his weapon high.

  Eiryana screamed.

  With a hoarsely yelled curse the wounded mariner at the mast lunged for the barbed gaff, grabbed and threw it, striking the Memteth’s groin.

  Wild-eyed, the Memteth stared at the protruding hook. Leon levered to his feet with a yell, and swung his sword at the giant Memteth’s neck.

  The raider fell to his knees; his head wobbled grotesquely and fell to the deck an instant before the corpse dropped.

  Cries went up. Thera saw Dougall thrust his sword into his attacker and break free, sprinting to Oak Heart’s side. Teckcharin growled something to the Memteth before him and grinned wolfishly. The raider retreated toward his ship. Allenholme mariners cheered.

  “Thera.” Eiryana warned. Distracted, Thera heard the sound before she saw. Groaning like a suffering beast the Cythian warship grated across the farthest rocks of Lorn a’Lea islets.

  Thera’s heart pounded. “Perhaps she’ll catch and hold.”

  Eiryana shrilled, sharing the hope, her voice carrying even over the roar of flames. Thera prayed to the Powers of Good that the flaming ship would indeed be held off from the forested beach, but the ship lifted clear to drift slowly shoreward again. Two men, one, the blonde-haired noble, the other all in black, vaulted from the warship’s stern, past the fire and into the water. They bobbed to the surface, swimming for the rocks of Lorn a’Lea.

  “Therrra! Therraaa! I’ve come with family! All want to help the tree cousins. Are we going to make a wave?”

  Thera almost wept with relief.

  She felt Eiryana’s surprised grunt as the covey of wind elementals tossed her exuberantly.

  “Sussara, Blessings on you. However, do stop now and listen. No. This time we need to make a big wind. A wind big enough to blow that burning ship away from the beach.”

  Sussara swirled. “Nasty fire folk,” it commented. “Push and shove at me when I went to get help. Huh. Brought all my family. Now we’ll see.”

  “Sussara! Can you do it? Can you save the Elanraigh?”

  Sussara gusted. “Family say that ship will be hard to move until the tide turns.”

  “When does the tide turn?” asked Thera, trying to keep anxious haste from her mind-voice.

  “Soon, family say.”

  “Sussara, we must try now. For the Elanraigh. The terrible flames are so close to the trees.”

  Sussara swirled, apparently communing with the family of wind elementals. Thera could get no sense of the “family’s” mind-voice.

  “Family say they will try. Therrra, they say it would be good to move the little ships that still have the wind catchers on them.”

  Thera checked with Eiryana, who was as baffled as she. “But they’re not on fire, little one.”

  “Yesss. We know. But Therra, Eiryana Sky Weaver, and Elanraigh tree-cousins would like to see them go away. Yesss?”

  Eiryana grunted in surprise again, loosing height, as the riotous covey of wind elementals departed.

  “Eiryana, where are they? Can you tell?”

  “They have gone to the top of Lorn a’Lea cliff. Perhaps they commune with the Elanraigh.”

  “Ah.” Thera could sense them now. They spun above the cliff, faster and faster in tight circles, then plunged in an ever increasing gust down the cliff face and out over the water.

  The wind elementals couldn’t affect the burning warship directly, but they could affect the water around her. The ship slowly righted. Spinning slightly, she tipped back, away from the shore. The flames howled eerily, flattening, snapping like werehounds at the wind.

  “It’s working! Elanraigh Bless! If they can just hold her there until she burns completely away. She’s almost down to blackened beams now—surely the flames must die when the ship is gone?”

  Eiryana whistled.

  Memteths’ voices carried in snatches over the wild winds as the crews of the raider ships adjusted their “wind catchers,” as Sussara called them.

  “Yes,” commented Thera, bitter satisfaction laced her mind-voice as she and Eiryana skirted the edge of the maelstrom. “Imagine how mystified they are by this “freak” wind!”

  Horrified cries rose from the raider ships closest to the Cythian vessel as the perverse wind forced them against the burning hulk. Flames eagerly leapt to their new havens. Once alight, the raider ships were blown toward their companions’ ships as they made haste to be underway.

  “So, the fire is equally merciless to its own creators,” Thera murmured, subduing an unwelcome welling of pity for even the Memteth as they leapt wrapped in whirling flames into the waters of the bay.

  Eiryana veered toward the point.

  “What”

  “A Memteth lizard beast. Below us.”

  The huge reptile, shifting nervously, stood at the stern of a Memteth ship. Ship’s crew must already have jumped overboard. It swayed, forked tongue questing the air. As the flames hurried toward it, it too slid into the water. The flat, reptilian head soon reappeared at the water surface. The beast swam, arrowing for the rocks where the two Cythian nobles had pulled themselves to safety.

  Thera could see the blonde man and his dark companion casting about for, anything, presumably, they could use to defend themselves.

  Thera felt all the horror she had on her first encounter with a Memteth lizard. Eiryana appraised the creature, “Reptiles are good. I frequently take them if there is no fish.”

  “Ptah”! Thera commented, “Can we help these Cythians, Eiryana? Is it too dangerous for you?

  “It is much bigger than a bluefish or even a bristlefang. It will be difficult to kill. I will not be able to carry it,” she added.

  “Blessings no! If we can just keep it from the Cythians, it will be well.”

  Eiryana winged for height. Thera held herself quiet as Eiryana prepared. She experienced the sharpening of vision as Eiryana became completely focused on the giant lizard. Then, once again that sudden drop as Eiryana folded her wings, diving through the driving winds toward the snake-like head.

  Thera heard the blonde Cythian’s shout, peripherally saw his gesture of pointing. His black-robed companion with one hand on the younger man’s shoulder, shaded his eyes with the other, watching. Wind elementals lashed at the dark man’s long black hair and sweeping moustaches. He moved his hand, absently, as if swatting flies, and the elementals recoiled in disorder. Thera had no time to wonder.

  Eiryana struck. Just behind the reptile’s head. Her talons pierced the tough skin and clenched on muscle. The beast thrashed and Eiryana held, half lifting, then tearing loose just as it rolled and submerged itself into the eddies of its own blood.

  The blunt head re-appeared several pike lengths away, the beast deflected from its earlier course and now swimming for the beach.

  “Eiryana, are you all right?” Thera felt the young eagle’s pain.

  “Well enough. Hind talon. It’s a heavy beast.”

  “Its wound is bad, Eiryana. You may have killed it!”

  On the shore of Lorn a’Lea Beach were a double-hand of Ttamarini and Duke’s soldiers equipped with ropes, buckets, and shovels. A continuous string of riders were edging down the steep trail.

  “They must have come to defend the Elanraigh against the fire. Blessings on them.” Thera shared.

  “We will drive the Memteth’s beast to them.”
Diving and swooping, Eiryana harried the lizard. Snapping at them, it rolled, its limbs convulsed then loosened. The body washed ashore. The men on shore who were shouting and cheering the eagle on, fell silent as they observed the creature.

  “Spawn of a Sea Fiend!” exclaimed one as they circled it.

  “What be it?” asked Kirten, his youthful voice cracking.

  “What matter?” replied Ent. “Some form of filthy Memteth creature.” He shaded his good eye in a long look at the eagle drifting above him. “It be an omen. Yon fine, brave creature of the Elanraigh has destroyed this vile beast. Tore its throat.”

  “Worse teeth than a bristlefang!” whispered Kirten. He crouched at its head and reached to finger the gaping jaw.

  “‘Ware!” yelled Ent. He laughed uproariously as Kirten flinched back a full body length, scrambling for his spear.

  Wiping his eye with the back of his hand, Ent subsided, only to start up again as he observed the youth’s wrathful face.

  “You one-eyed old sedgemole! If you weren’t older than my granda I’d make you pay for that!”

  “Oh-huu-huu-huu!” Ent hooted, pointing. “Oh, aye. Aye.” He finally turned, hefting his own spear. “Damned young fool. Your old granda would have known better. It’s not dead yet. This beast could still take your arm off.” He prodded it with the spear tip, and the jaws snapped. “Be done with you,” Ent snarled and plunged his spear into the lizard’s chest. The lizard’s massive tail lashed, sweeping sand into Kirten’s startled face, before it lay still.

  Her heart thudding light and swift, Thera vividly recalled her own battle with a Memteth lizard beast. Eiryana, swept along with Thera’s feelings, screamed her hunting cry. Below them, faces upturned and voices hailed Eiryana with their war cries.

  Sirra Maxin, whose face Thera recognized among the rest, now turned and barked at soldiers, Allenholme and Ttamarini alike. “Away with you now from gawking at the beasties.” Some he sent to the grisly task of collecting the bodies of Cythian and Memteth dead; some to scouting southward along the forest edge for survivors.

  The two Memteth ships that had survived the battle were already mere specks on the horizon. The Bride was under way to rescue the Cythian noblemen from their perch on the rocks of Lorn a’Lea Beach. Already the noblemen were up to their knees in the incoming tide. Winging closer, they saw Oak Heart standing with Dougall and Teckcharin. Duke Leon limped heavily when he moved, but his voice rang out with vigor enough.

  The two Cythian noblemen watched as the Bride O’Wind approached. The younger man reached behind his head, tying his hair that had loosened in the wind. He seemed a handsome man of fair complexion. His nose was small, but well shaped. Now he frowned and leaned toward his companion, speaking swiftly. His teeth were very white and even. His neck flared smoothly to broad shoulders. She heard his voice rise on the wind, a clear tenor.

  The wind elementals were again tearing at the blonde man’s taller companion. The man stood, arms folded across his chest, seemingly unperturbed by the frenzied wind elementals.

  “They really seem to dislike this black-robed man,” Thera observed with surprise.

  Eiryana whistled softly.

  “Yes,” replied Thera. She, too, felt a queer uneasiness as she examined him. He was older than her father. His long black hair was graying. He was tall and wide shouldered and as the wild winds molded his wet robe to him, Thera could see he was of a gaunt leanness. His eyes were deep-set. Even with Eiryana’s excellent vision, she could not determine their color, only that they were dark. His mouth was a red slash of color below his long black moustaches—his skin very white.

  The Bride launched a skiff to pick up the Cythians, the rowers pulling hard toward the awash survivors.

  “Eiryana.” Thera felt weary to her soul. “I must return to Elankeep.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Sleep. Then I will gather the Elankeep troop and return to Allenholme.”

  “Rest, then.” Eiryana banked and with several strong beats of her wings, the battle scene was far behind them. “We will be at Elankeep by sunset.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Thera slitted open her eyes to the glow of blurred, amber light. What?

  “Thera! Are you well?”

  “Eiryana—where”? Thera felt the weight and contours of her own human form. “I’m in my body—how?”

  “I sent you back. The bond between you and your physical body drew you safely.” She added in wry voice, “you did not even wake.”

  Thera’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. “Hunn.” Thera snorted a small laugh. “I didn’t know we could do that.”

  “Nor I.”

  “I am curiously light-headed. And you? Where are you?

  “Near. A fine roosting tree on the promontory.”

  “Thera!” A different voice, a human voice, dinned in her ear while a hand shook her shoulder. “Thera.”

  Thera opened her eyes fully—I’m on a bed, not the planks of the north tower. The amber glow resolved itself into the lamp at the corner of the infirmary, a dark shadow into the Healing Mistress’ face. “Rozalda. Blessings,” Thera swallowed, “so thirsty.”

  Healing Mistress Rozalda looked weary, though the crease in her brow smoothed somewhat as Thera spoke. She disappeared from Thera’s view to reappear with a water dipper.

  “Here.” As Rozalda raised her shoulders and helped her to drink, Thera heard a murmuring of voices. “Yes,” Rozalda tossed over her shoulder, “she’s awake.”

  Egrit and Sirra Alaine loomed into Thera’s line of sight. Their faces were worried and grim respectively.

  “I’ve been home,” Thera said, “I have such things to tell you!”

  Rozalda motioned to Egrit and the girl plumped the pillows behind Thera’s back, propping her up in the bed. Thera bore Egrit’s fussing behind her with pricklings of impatience. To her surprise, she read disapproval in those about her.

  “Eiryana, they are angry with me—after all we’ve done!”

  Eiryana’s response in her mind was sympathetic.

  Rozalda, sitting very straight, hands clasped tightly in her lap, spoke first. “You have been in the deepest trance I have ever witnessed! Hardly breathing and impossible to arouse. It was Enid who found you at noontide when she went on watch. She thought you were dead. You’ve lain here, almost lifeless, a full day. It is near midnight now.”

  “I had to see home,” Thera said. “I thought I would be back before anyone even knew I was gone. You shouldn’t worry about me.” Thera eyed them. “Blessings be! I am no longer a child to be coddled so. I know what I am doing.”

  Egrit looked unhappy. Alaine drew a quick breath—then gusted it out after a quick look and shake of the head from Rozalda. “Now,” Rozalda grasped Thera’s wrist and shook it. “Thera, all here are pledged to defend you; you are the Salvai. You have won their hearts as well as their loyalty—you should not abuse them so. How could any of us be sure this was a self-induced trance, when trance it has finally proved to be? How could we know what was happening to you, wherever you had gone or been taken? You did not see Enid’s face when she carried you down here after finding you on the north tower. Or Alba and the others, who have been in and out here all day, helpless to know what to do.”

  Thera stared.

  “Read past their anger,” came Eiryana’s voice.

  Thera folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “No,” she sent back.”They are so wise and sure. They will be sorry when they realize how they’ve wronged us.”

  “Thera. Do.”

  Clenching her jaw on her own anger, she slipped into her unique way of reading, and studied her friends’ energies. She sent Eiryana a terse acknowledgement. “Yes. I see.”

  “And your anger?”

  “Eiryana!”

  �
�Do.”

  Goaded, Thera read her own emotions, quick as if dipping her finger into simmering water.

  “All right,” she acknowledged. “Much of my temper stems from shame at worrying them so. Blessings be. I may now be ‘flying with eagles,’ as the Maiya said I would, but all this love tethers me”.

  Eiryana’s warm chuckle in her mind soothed the last of her ill mood. “All life is interwoven, Thera. They are learning too.”

  Thera reached her hand, touching Sirra Alaine’s sleeve. “I’m sorry to have grieved you.”

  Alaine’s rough hand gripped Thera’s painfully. “Next time, trust us. We will ward you. Promise me, as Salvai.” Her throat moved as if swallowing unspoken words.

  Thera nodded solemnly.

  Egrit swiped at her eyes with a corner of her apron. “I’ll get us tea,” she said, walking briskly to the fire.

  The Healing Mistress leaned forward and tapped Thera on the leg. “Do not think the only enemies your father has are the Memteth, Thera. Among the royal houses there are those who fear and loathe Duke Leon.”

  “Who? Why would…?”

  “Any one of many powerful men and women who influence the court.” Rozalda interjected. “Men and women, who live and die for favors and influence, equate honesty with stupidity. Until now, they have allowed that the stalwart ArNarone clan is well enough placed in its remote northern holding. It is fortunate, too, that the king, though generally a fickle man, always speaks warmly of the ArNarone, and especially of your father who is his cousin’s son.”

  Rozalda leaned back in her chair. “We are never complacent, however. Ours is a king surrounded with many clever and corrupt courtiers.” She paused, staring at the lantern, her gaze unfocused. “His idea, I think, is to retain those most dangerous near him, at court, where he can keep his eye on them. Though the king keeps his powerful houses on tight leash, ArNarone has enjoyed a kind of negligent indulgence. But now,” Rozalda returned her gaze to Thera, “with this new alliance of ArNarone with the Ttamarini—your father has disturbed the balance of power.”