by E. J. Godwin
Caleb knelt with his head to the ground, his fingers clenched in his hair.
She whispered his name, but he could not summon the courage to respond. “Caleb, don’t take it to heart so much. You must remember what he’s been through.”
The man from Earth remained crouched, hoping to block out the alien world about him, block out his pain. Now he understood what he had been running from all these months and years. Space-faring ships, horses, long treks through the wilderness, were all one, all useless in their power to escape. The sight of his own hands turning off those life-sustaining devices, a vision blazing like an evil pyre in his mind, had traversed those endless stars with ruthless facility.
Telai gently disengaged herself from the boy. As with Warren, Caleb responded more to her touch than her words, and the terror of the unearthly night sky gradually shrank down to the small, comforting darkness of a tree-sheltered campsite again.
Time passed. At last she left him and piled more fuel on the fire while Warren sat apart, his reddened eyes fixed on the climbing flames as though witnessing the symbolic release of his anger. Telai squeezed Caleb’s hand, then sat beside the child in silence.
The wood collapsed to burning embers, and the twilight faded. Telai jumped at a sudden touch on her arm. Caleb reached down, placed the Medallion in her hand, and gently closed her fingers.
“This belongs to you now, Telai. Do what you must with it. Protect your people.”
Trembling, she opened her hand. The red light of coals outlined the standing figure and the tree above. The last hope drained from her eyes, and she bowed her head, the Medallion clasped in her fist.
No other sight but that of Telai’s quiet distress could have released Caleb from his prison. She was too exhausted to weep now, but he sat close, cradling her arm in his lap. He studied the strong, slender grace of her fingers, and the callouses earned by riding hundreds of miles to find them. How many times, how many hours and days had he held a hands like these in his own, hands that never failed to express love through deeds? It was this memory, a vision more potent than any other, that reached across the endless void and finally drowned his guilt.
After a while he rose to attend to simple matters: more wood for the fire, drink, and a little grain for the horses. Telai sipped a bit of wine until Caleb made her bed, and she lay down. He held her hand to his lips for a moment. No words passed between them. By the time he brought the blankets up around her shoulders, she was already asleep.
Warren had not moved. Caleb touched him on the shoulder, but the boy shrugged him off. Caleb turned away, grim in his determination to restore his son’s faith, and spread his blankets for the long night ahead.
9
Ancient Surrender
Love blossoms in the driest of deserts.
Yet one wrong word can kill it.
- Allera, Second Underseer of Spierel
CALEB OPENED his eyes. The fire had died to dim coals, and the light of a half moon filtered through the treetops. A dark figure loomed over Telai. Caleb shot out from under his wraps, leaped over the fire, and slammed the intruder to the ground.
They fought fiercely while Telai and Warren sat up staring into the darkness. The stranger let out a curse, and Caleb jumped back, mouth agape.
The intruder stood and brushed wet leaves and dirt from his clothes. “I suppose I should praise you for your vigilance.”
“Soren!” Caleb cried. “Why did you sneak up on us like that?”
“Hush! It couldn’t be helped.” He scanned the dimly lit moorlands beyond the trees. His horse nickered in the woods nearby. “We must leave at once.”
Telai groaned. “Why couldn’t you meet us at the rendezvous?”
“That was foolish of me—asking you to cross Westgate alone,” Soren muttered. “If they had captured me you would have blundered right into them.”
“Hodyn?” Caleb asked.
“Most likely. I didn’t get a proper look at them.”
“But if they keep following you—”
“Enough! They won’t find us at all if we stop talking and get out of here.”
Soren scattered the coals and covered them with dirt while the others packed, then inspected the rest of their campsite to erase all signs of their stay. Within minutes they were heading south through the woods, gradually leaving the hills behind.
Though the moon still shone well above the horizon, they resolved to cross as much of the open plains of Westgate as they could before sunrise. An hour or so later they halted just inside the border of the woods, peering cautiously out between the black shadows of the trees. There was no one in sight.
Soren set a hard pace, risking their horses to stay ahead of the pursuit. The distant peaks of the Lorgdir glimmered like ghosts beneath the stars, until hours later when they blushed with the dawn. The growing light offered a clear view for several miles, and Soren slowed his horse to a walk, confident they had lost their pursuers.
Caleb rode alongside, his face reddened by the sunrise. “Is it still our plan to head for Spierel?”
“Yes. But first we’ll take cover in Tratirené.” He pointed south, where the eastern slopes of the mountains descended into a wide forestland. “That should put them off our trail for good.”
Warren rode behind, having kept mostly to himself since they left camp. Telai rode on the other side of Caleb, sporting circles under her eyes. She nibbled on a biscuit to help stay awake. “Anidrin told me about a Raéni messenger that passed through town a few days before I arrived.”
“Who’s Anidrin?” Caleb asked.
“An old friend of mine. He lives in a small house near Onayonlé.”
“A messenger?” Soren asked. “How many days was that after you learned about Udan from the Overseer?”
Telai paused, the biscuit held near her lips. “Three, I think.”
“Then I doubt he was sent from either Ekendoré or Udan. Maybe I should have risked a closer look at that search party in Enilií.”
“Hodyn spies in Enilií?” Caleb said. “Isn’t that stretching it a bit?”
“No. That second-in-command of theirs, Gendor, is a master at deception. Besides, some of the taller soldiers could pass as Adaiani, especially with so many Trethan descendants among our people.”
“But now that we’ve lost them, does it matter—”
“We haven’t lost them!” Soren answered, cutting him off. “We can’t let the Second Lor’yentré fall into enemy hands, broken or otherwise. No one should rest until it is safe within the towers of Spierel.” Caleb shifted in his saddle, nettled by the implied criticism.
Telai glanced at Caleb. “I assume you still have it.”
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
The doubt he heard or at least imagined in her voice sparked his fears again. “I don’t want to take a chance on losing it while we’re riding. Tonight, when we’re camped.”
“All right,” she said after a brief hesitation.
“How did you find out which way we were headed?”
“Haven’t you been listening? My mother received a message from Udan.” Caleb took a deep breath; his ears were working just fine. “And it was well known you were heading for Véigen,” Telai added.
“Yes, and well known to the Hodyn,” said Soren. “The Raéni are too loose with their tongues. You took the quicker way along the North Road?”
“Not quick enough. I spent too much time at Onayonlé and Enilií.”
“Our plight was not your responsibility, Telai. Besides, there’s no way you could have reached us before we escaped the tunnel.”
“But how did you know where to find us at all?” Caleb asked.
“That’s the strangest part of the story,” she answered. She told them about the man who had given her the coin, and the vision she had about Warren before she sent Yoté back to Ekendoré. “Though I never heard the stranger’s voice, I couldn’t shake the impression that it was him quoting those words from Orand. I assume the
coin is related to the Yrsten Medallion. But I still don’t understand how, or why he gave it to me.”
“Let me guess,” said Caleb. “He was rather young, a little shorter than most, and had long, black hair and gray eyes.”
“What? How can you know that?”
Soren shot one of his Raéni curses into the breeze. “Blast that troublesome meddler!”
“It couldn’t have been anyone but Rennor, Telai,” Caleb said.
She turned a thoughtful gaze to the horizon. “I don’t understand this. Why did he give it to me?”
Caleb shrugged the matter off. “Whatever he meant by it, it doesn’t help us now. Our immediate concern is Spierel, and Ekendoré beyond. But I have a request.”
They waited. “Well?” asked Soren.
“I must return to my ship.”
The old Raén gave him a long, hard stare. “Why?”
Caleb’s neck burned to his ears. “That stone giant destroyed my weapon,” he said, jabbing a thumb at his chest, “my one sure defense, better than any sword. Whether the Council condemns me or not, there’s no way to predict what dangers lie ahead. I want to be as prepared as possible.”
Telai frowned. “This Earth device—it’s what you used to kill your Hodyn captors?”
“Yes. It’s very effective.”
“And very dangerous.”
Caleb pursed his lips. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with Telai, but this was too important. “So is a sword, if it’s not wielded properly.”
“A weak comparison, Caleb, and you know it. It reminds me of the Lor’yentréi too much for my peace of mind.”
Warren, having picked up enough of their conversation, dug in his heels to urge his horse alongside them. “Devices small life. We call lasers. Six months and dead. No danger, less than you wonder.” Caleb grinned at the contradiction between his terrible grammar and restored intelligence.
Soren smiled, too, though not for the same reason. “So! Earth magic may be powerful. But a sword is no more evil than the hand that wields it.” He swept out his Fetra, the blade flashing in the morning sun.
“Pity I lost mine,” Caleb said. “I know, I know … my fault. But that doesn’t mean I should go without any kind of weapon.”
Soren sheathed his sword. “Very well. You may have your magic again, since it served us so well in Dernetondé. But I share Telai’s fear, and ask that you only use it at the greatest need. Above all, keep it hidden. In any case we must lose our hunters in Tratirené for a few days. Your ship can wait until after that.”
♦
They crossed the northern border of Tratirené by sunset, carefully leading their horses into a vast stand of towering conifers. Soren was determined to keep going while the daylight lasted, but Telai stumbled through the undergrowth, each step heavier than the last.
When she fell and narrowly missed cracking her skull on a stone, Caleb walked to her horse and pulled out her blankets, deaf to the Master Raén’s protests. Telai dropped off the moment she lay down.
Soren eventually saw reason, and let them all sleep until late the next morning. The autumn sun sent bright shafts slanting between the trees, and he led the way, keeping to the cover of the forest within far sight of Westgate to their left. Caleb rode beside Telai, wishing they could talk to resolve their differences, but with the others close by there was no chance. The day dragged on until at last the pale light of dusk appeared, beyond where the edge of Tratirené bent south. They had reached the western border of Ada.
Soren insisted on posting a guard there, and Caleb took the first shift, heading toward the open before the old Raén could comment. Some twenty paces outside the forest he found a large, flat stone offering a wide view east, and sat to watch.
It was utterly still, and he could hear the echoing tap of a woodpecker somewhere in the trees behind. Directly ahead beneath a gibbous moon a grim cone rose against the dusk: Illvent, the dormant volcano he had first seen from his ship. The sight haunted him, for he was an outcast again, lost in a vast country far from his life on Earth.
A certain dread tainted those memories. He had come full circle, or was about to, and something inside told him that the promise of Yrsten was close to fruition. Yet how? He felt helpless, a speck of dust carried on the wind. And he could not leave Ada now. He loved Telai too much.
As if on cue, he heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps, and smiled. Telai said no word of greeting. She merely stopped at his side, her gaze cast out over the fading landscape. Caleb marked how beautiful she looked, even with her bulky clothes and her face half shadowed by the hood of her coat. The mere evidence of her breath in the air stirred his feelings.
“Caleb—there was no need for the pretense of guard duty to speak to me alone.”
“I couldn’t help it. I’d scream if I had to go another day without talking to you.”
She waited for a little, then glanced down at him. “I’m listening.”
Caleb fought to steady his voice. “I’ve acted childish lately, letting my fears get the best of me. I’m sorry. Soren’s better at that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Her lips curled. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Maybe. But it’s been driving me crazy to know how you feel about—well, about a few choices I’ve made.”
“Only a few?”
Caleb’s gut tightened. “I suppose I had that coming.”
Telai faced him, arms folded in a pause exquisitely timed to maximize his discomfort. “Why did you deceive me like that?”
“Deceive you?”
“You told me you joined the Raéni to overcome Ada’s prejudice. Caleb, you lied to me!”
Her stare cut into him, and he resisted an urge to fall to his knees to beg forgiveness. “Are you familiar with the passage in Besir Orand’iteé, the one about the healing powers of the Lor’yentréi?”
“Of course! I’m not a Loremaster for nothing, you know.”
“Telai, please don’t be angry with me. I wish I could have told you about this, especially about—” He bowed his head. “Did Soren tell you everything about Warren’s sickness?”
Fear crept into her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The crash did a lot more than take his intelligence away. He never would have reached his twentieth birthday.”
She stood rock-still as the shock set in. “He was going to die—and you didn’t tell me?” She tightened her gloved hands into fists, as if ready to land one on his nose. “Just because I’m not his mother doesn’t mean I don’t care about him, Caleb!”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I wanted your time with Warren to be as carefree as possible. I would have told you eventually, when it became too obvious. Then I read that passage, and … ” He swallowed a lump, struggling to restore his voice. “By Hendra! I’m sorry, Telai. I couldn’t tell anyone, not even you. As Grand Loremaster, it would have forced you to choose between me and Ada.”
“Where do you think I am now? You forced this choice on me the minute you took the Oath—in front of me and Soren and everyone else!”
The fear of losing her tore at his heart. “I did what I had to do, not what I wanted. It was the same on Earth,” he said, his thoughts wandering. “Though I never realized who my harshest judge would be.”
“I never once judged you for that.”
“No. I mean Warren.”
A long minute passed before Telai spoke again. She changed subtly, as if navigating a complex maze of thoughts and emotions. Warren still wore the ivory necklace she gave him, a symbol of her affection. Yet would that affection be enough to heal the breach? A spark of hope bloomed, but he kept still, a man on cracked ice fearing to take another step.
She sat beside him. Something in her eyes—a storm of doubt, yet with a hint of something deeper—added to his fears, as if more than his love for Telai was at stake.
“Caleb, I haven’t had the chance until now, but … I�
�ve been meaning to talk to you about him.”
“Warren? How do you mean?”
“He’s—I don’t know, different somehow.”
“Well, of course he is. His intelligence—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like he’s grown distant or something.”
Caleb hesitated, then placed his hand on hers. She didn’t respond, but neither did she pull away. “I just assumed it was the shock of what’s happened to him,” he said. “I mean, how would you feel if someone said you were the Bringer of … ” He bowed his head. “Great Hendra, Telai, I hope you’re not saying my boy is evil or something.”
“No, no!” Telai said, gripping his hands at last. “Do you remember what I told you before—how I felt a certain connection to him?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not as strong as it once was. It’s still there, but—”
“You saw him the other night. Are you sure it’s not just resentment about … about what I did on Earth?”
She hesitated, her doubt switching to fear and back again. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes with him it’s tough to figure out whether it’s genuine clairvoyance or just my emotions at work.”
Caleb sighed. “Well, I don’t have much intuition. Karla was much better at that sort of thing. But I know what you mean. I wish I knew what to do. I’m afraid I’ll just make things worse if I try to talk to him about it.”
The concern in her eyes seemed to turn outward; then a confident smile erased it. “You need to be patient, Caleb. He’ll come to terms with it—but in his own time, not yours.”
“He’s my son. I’ll do what I have to do. But I’m hoping the same about you: that you’ll come to terms with what I’ve done here, and all I need is patience.”
A hint of the anger he had seen on that fateful day in Gerentesk ended her smile. “You know it’s more than that. You’re a soldier now. That’s a path I can’t follow.”
“Because you can’t Join with me until you become a Raén?”
“I won’t take the Oath, Caleb. Not even for you. I refuse to be forced into a situation where I must kill to prove my loyalty.”
