by Lori Holmes
He heard her sigh softly. How was it that the sound was somehow more familiar to him than his own breath?
“I healed your wounds. You were badly hurt from your fall,” she said in her soft, coaxing voice.
Khalvir remembered his leg with a cold thrill. He glanced down at the green bandages and realised all of his supposed dream had been true. His leg and ribs had indeed been broken. Now they were not. He took a shuddering breath as the terrible truth dawned. He had never believed in the healing powers of the elves, powers that his chief so craved to possess. Now he believed it and the realisation came too late. The power this tiny girl must possess was nothing he had ever dreamt possible and he was her prisoner, trapped and without defence.
“It’s all right, Juaan. It will heal. I would never do anything to harm you.”
Juaan. Explosions went off in his mind. Flashes of colour, smell and sensation all danced just out of reach. They almost overwhelmed him, but he could make no sense of them. He could see nothing clearly. He fought to clear his mind. Stop! He wanted to scream at the elf above. She was doing this. With a supreme effort, he kept his gaze steady upon her, angrily defying her trickery.
It seemed to work. The she-elf fell silent, her face falling. He felt a thrill at the sight but somehow the victory was marred by the inexplicable need to reach out and comfort her. The same need made him want to pick up that fruit and eat it, just to take that look of sadness off her face but, at the same time, a deeper instinct told him that it would take more than eating a fruit to remove such a look. He almost growled, furious. He could no longer trust his own reactions!
As he struggled with himself, the she-elf got to her feet, the leaves she wore rustling as softly as those in the trees above. She began to fuss around the edges of the pit. He tried not to admire the grace with which she moved. So soft and delicate. The strange protectiveness he felt rose, unbidden, and he quashed it ruthlessly.
He watched as she began stripping a vine from the side of a tree rising up at the edge of the pit. As soon as she had a reasonable length, she turned and threw it over the lip. It dangled just above the ground near to where he sat. Shock rippled through him. The fool! She had just given him a means to escape.
His intent must have shown in his eyes. “It won’t hold your weight,” she warned. “It supplies water. Here.” And she threw down an empty nutshell half of the same kind she had just been eating from.
With the hopes of escaping this awful hole dashed, Khalvir glared at her and she quailed visibly. The red-gold shade of her skin was becoming more clear. The Light Bringer was rising somewhere behind the thick leaves overhead.
“I have to go,” her reluctant voice broke into his thoughts. “But I will return when I can with more food. Take this for now.” She threw down the rest of the half eaten nut. “It’s going to be hard for me to come here often but I will come back. Trust me.”
Trust you? Khalvir raised an eyebrow. She was very naive. And young. That strange need to protect her rose once more against his will.
A faint smile touched her lips at the expression on his face. She appeared to have won something from him though he could not guess what.
“You will remember me, Juaan. I promise.”
The flashes went off in his head. No! He pushed them back, hatred flaring as she turned and disappeared from sight.
5
Fury
Khalvir sat staring at the fruit. With each moment that passed, it seemed to grow larger in his vision. His stomach clawed inside his belly like a ravening beast. The golden globe became his enemy. An enemy that must be overcome. The only opponent he had ever lost to was his chief. He wasn’t about to be defeated now by a piece of fruit.
His leg wasn’t yet strong enough to allow him to walk and he felt sore and irritable. His thirst burned in his throat. He had been forced to try the vine she had provided as his vision hazed to grey. But he was only able to suck the barest amount of moisture from the strange funnels protruding from the sides. Not enough. His only hope was for his men to return for him.
He had ordered Galahir to wait but eventually he knew his friend would begin to search for him. He weighed the chances of being found. This forest was vast and he was well hidden. He wondered how long Galahir would search for before he gave up on him as a lost cause.
Of his own free will, Galahir would continue until all hope of Khalvir being found alive was lost. But the choice may not be his when he had the other men and the chief’s orders to consider. Lorhir would insist on leaving.
With Khalvir out of the way, the chief would most likely place Lorhir as leader of the raknari. A position the snake had coveted for many, many passing summers. It would not take him long to try and convince the others that Khalvir was lost.
The golden globe of fruit grew larger in his vision. He glared at it in open defiance and it stared back indifferently, impressively unmoved. It seemed to know it would eventually win.
Khalvir groaned. He was doing battle with a fruit. He looked again at the offending object asking himself if it was wise not to eat. Perhaps he should take it. If the opportunity came to escape, he needed to be able to stand, to run.
The fruit looked back at him, smug.
He hissed and turned away, laying his head on his arms as they locked around his knees so he was facing in the opposite direction. He stared at the blank rock wall. At least that didn’t look appetising. He traced shapes in the rocks to pass the time until it started to grow dark. He tried to sleep as a way to escape his hunger but his leg ached with the pangs of healing and the unyielding ground offered no comfort. He slept in fits and snatches. The forest was too loud. He missed the near silence of the open plains. Did elves sleep at all in this din?
When he did find sleep, indigo eyes stared back at him behind his lids, taunting him with the quiet secret that lay within their depths, a secret only she could know. Khalvir jerked upright, dispelling the vision. He clenched his teeth together in frustration as he gave up on the idea of sleep. He was trapped in a pit of the gods’ damnation. He supposed he had committed enough sin in his life to deserve it.
He felt rather than saw the night passing. The claustrophobia crawled over him, growing stronger with every moment as his own strength waned. He was finding it harder to remain upright. His whistling signals continued to go unanswered.
Just as he thought he could take it no longer and he would throw himself at the rocks in an effort to break loose, the leaves above his prison shifted.
She had returned.
He was alarmed when it took him several attempts to focus his eyes. Grey spots were beginning to dance before his vision. Khalvir straightened his back and arranged his features into a semblance of hostility.
“I came back,” she said breathlessly. “Here.” She threw down another enemy.
He kept his posture defensive, warning her away. He did not want her, he did not need her. She was unwelcome and if he could ever catch her, he would do what he came here to do and kill her in vengeance for his lost men.
He could not know when her nicety might run out and she would try to be rid of the abomination in her forest. The reason why she had not done so already still eluded him, and an enemy whose purpose could not be understood was a deadly one.
“How are your injuries? Are you in any pain?”
Khalvir tightened his grip around his leg as she blatantly reminded him of her power. If she thought she could intimidate him, she was sorely mistaken.
Her face twisted into a plea. The expression grabbed at his heart, startling him. “Please,” she said plaintively, “try to remember. It’s me. It’s your Nyri.”
He was quick to strangle the snatches of sensation that fired in his brain. Why was she torturing him like this? Witch! Just leave me alone! He clenched his fists to try and control his rage. She seemed to sense it. He saw her body tilt as if she were fighting not to take a step back from the look on his face.
She dropped her eyes, shifting her bare feet.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
No! Can’t you understand? He thought at her. I’m not going to give in to you.
She dug her nails into her palms as she turned the full force of her eyes upon him. “Please, eat. Please,” she appealed. “You are dying. You cannot go on like this. Please.”
He was prepared to resist but then she started to beg, reaching out with one trembling hand.
“Please.” Her voice cut through him like a knife. “What can I say? What can I do to prove myself to you? I do not mean you harm. Please, let me help, I need to be able to help someone-” Tears began to slip silently down her cheeks.
Khalvir could no longer keep the carefully arranged hostility upon his face. The sight of her upset wreaked havoc in his heart. He raised his eyebrows in alarm. She was crying for him. She was crying for her enemy. He could not understand this girl. He could not understand his own reactions to her. He quite suddenly wanted to take her in his arms, he leaned towards her.
No, no, no! He closed his eyes so that he could no longer see her face and leaned his head back. He was so exhausted, so tired. His will to resist her was crumbling with every moment. He had to resist. It was easier when he couldn’t see her.
He heard her sniff quietly.
“My tribe has posted extra watch,” she said after a while, her voice having regained a measure of calm. He kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore how her voice was like a balm to his soul. “It is very important that you do not draw attention to yourself. Do you hear me?”
Khalvir couldn’t help but open his eyes a crack to regard her. The more she spoke, the more of an enigma she became.
Hope sprang in her face as she pulled forth yet another enemy for him to contend with. A bunch of roots. “Maybe you’d prefer these.” She coaxed. “Try them. Please.”
Why was he resisting any more? It seemed foolish now. A fault of pride. If she wanted to hurt him, surely she would have done it by now. He was so hungry…
“Juaan-”
Pain swept through him followed swiftly by a wave of fury. He had let his guard down again. The witch was still trying to cast her spell and he had very nearly succumbed. She had weakened him to the point where he had almost been willing to give in, lulling him with her guile.
Anger such as he rarely let himself feel ripped through his body. For the first time in a long time, he felt the unwanted energy within building; he struggled to keep it at bay. He was dimly aware of the colour draining from her face at the sight of his reaction.
“Get away from here, witch!” he hissed, his disused voice cracking and snarling through his teeth. She stood on the brink of the pit like a frightened deer before the hunter, afraid and vulnerable. It only angered him more. The hated energy in his chest tore against his control. It was all her fault. Savagely, he rose to his feet. “Get. Away!”
He could not get to her. He wanted to get to her, to break this dreadful spell. Desperate, he cast around, spying a fist sized rock by his feet. Swiftly he grabbed it and drew back his arm, fully prepared to throw. He could kill her so easily. He could see the points on her skull where the rock would crack bone and drop her senseless to the ground.
He gated a helpless wail of pain between his teeth and altered the angle of his hand just as he let fly the rock.
It grazed her ear and bounced off the nearest tree with a resounding crack. She would never know that he had deliberately missed, nor how close she had come.
“Get away from here!” he snarled, injecting as much menace into his voice as he could. “Don’t come back! Elf witch. I will kill you!”
He saw the moment her heart broke in her eyes and it was one of the most terrible things he had ever witnessed. With tears of utter betrayal standing in her eyes, the elf turned from him and fled.
The energy within faded, curling back into his chest like a tamed spear cat. He had won. She would never come back. His anger gave way to despair and his knees buckled, his strength giving out at last.
Another wave of dizziness sent him to the ground. His body was shutting down. He was dying. As he faded towards darkness, he had the oddest sense of regret.
He would never see her face again
* * *
6
Search
Darkness was falling. Galahir clutched the wooden haft of his arshu in his right hand, feeling its reassuring weight as he twisted it at his side. The wind whistled through the sharpened stag antlers curving from each end. The weapon of a raknari warrior, it took seasons of practice to master. Galahir wondered if it would be enough to protect them now.
Not that he would voice this concern to Banak, who stood edgily at his side, his own weapon in hand. Together, they faced the forest. Khalvir had not returned. It was time to make their first foray in their search for him.
Without a word, Galahir jammed the concealing skull of the oxen over his head and started into the trees. He heard Banak draw a breath and then follow.
Darkness pressed down upon his eyes as the cloying air of the woods filled his nostrils, dulling his senses. He disliked hunting in forests.
“Where do we start searching?” Banak gestured to the expanse of trees.
Galahir pressed his lips together. The forest was a big place, even if the whole clan was here, it would still take them a couple of moons to search the whole area. Everything looked the same in the blackness. He wasn’t even sure of the direction back to the elf settlement. Galahir slung his arshu across his shoulders. That did not mean he was about to give up. Khalvir would never have given up on him if the situation was reversed.
“We need to find the settlement again,” he whispered.
Banak hissed.
“We won’t go near,” Galahir amended. “We will test their defences. If they’re holding Khalvir, he is most likely to be there.”
Even beneath the skull that he wore, Galahir could see that Banak was not happy to be going near the elven settlement. Not without twenty other men at their backs. But the other man dipped his head in agreement nevertheless.
Galahir struck out in the direction he believed they had initially taken when they had first found the seemingly abandoned settlement.
The leaves of the black canopy shifted endlessly overhead as Galahir and Banak cut a path through the undergrowth, weaving around the trees. The night creatures of the forests croaked and whistled all around in a ceaseless din. If the wolves were approaching, they would not have a chance of hearing them until it was too late. Both men circled around the other, weapons at the ready, straining to see into the oppressive blackness.
All light from the edge of the forest had been lost when Galahir pushed back the oxen skull, enabling him to raise his fingers to his lips and give one long, thrilling whistle.
“Shhh!” Banak protested as the piercing sound shivered into nothingness. “Are you mad?”
“How else are we going to find him?” Galahir asked.
“I don’t know but just keep it down. Do you want to bring them down on our heads?”
“They won’t know what they’re hearing.” Galahir shrugged.
“Hmph.” Banak grunted. “I don’t like it. We’re being watched. I know we are.”
So did Galahir. He could not say how he knew but he did. The way the hairs stirred on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Even the trees appeared to scrutinise them.
Galahir pushed the sensation away as he listened raptly for a returning call but no answering whistle came back. He sighed. They needed to travel further in.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction, Galahir?”
“No.” Galahir paused and scanned the landscape around him. His eyes were gradually adjusting to the gloom. The trees were grey sentinels in the darkness, pressing in on all sides. Galahir risked giving another whistle.
Nothing.
“We still have a long time until dawn,” he said. “Let’s keep to this direction and see if we come up against a landmark that will tell us we’re gettin
g close. We need to be able to find that settlement again quickly if the Chief commands.”
“The Chief can hunt the elves down himself,” Banak whispered tersely. Risking speaking ill of their Chief in front of another was an indication just how nervous the other man was. Galahir pretended not to hear him as they travelled on.
“Did you hear that?” Banak asked suddenly, breaking a lengthy silence.
“What?”
“Voices.”
Galahir strained his ears over the incessant sounds of the forest. For a moment he heard nothing, then-
Ninmah’s Mercy!
The sound was nothing more than a whisper on the air, easily mistaken for a rustling in the leaves. Galahir hunkered down into the undergrowth as Banak did the same.
Kyaati.
Distant voices raised in panic, as soft as the breeze. Galahir could not tell the direction, only that they came from a long way off. He turned to Banak who had crouched behind him. “Perhaps-”
Galahir’s words choked off in his throat.
“What?” Banak’s shoulder’s tensed.
“Don’t. Move.”
The massive spider was crawling down the tree towards Banak’s unsuspecting back. Galahir judged that if the creature had been on the ground, it would have reached the height of his knee. It moved in fits and jerks, assessing the creature that had come to rest at the base of its lair.
“Ea preserve us!” Banak cried out in shock as he leaped away from the tree, his voice shattering the stillness and causing roosting birds to take flight overhead.
