by Martin Ash
"To know? What?"
"So many things. . . . Why does a god ally itself with the Karai and make war upon us? How can we fight it? What is--"
"Enough!" Six pale hands were raised, palms towards her, three pairs of bright, luminous lapis eyes shining from the trio of perfectly-formed white faces. “Triune has no union with these things. Be aware when you dream, for you take something of the true world with you now. Something of Enchantment is yours. In the dream you may not always be the dreamer. The dream may not be yours. Or it may be, and it may become real, now or soon or never. All things may be. Now, return."
*
Issul sat upon the dark earth, her head in her hands, sobbing.
"Jace!"
She felt a hand upon her arm, looked around and saw Shenwolf's face beside hers, looking at her with concern. She almost fell into his arms, needing the reassurance of a human touch, needing to hide in his strong arms as she poured out her emotion and fear. But she held back.
"Are you all right?"
"I- I think so." She wiped the tears from her eyes, blinked dazedly, still unsure of what was happening to her. She recognized the underground chamber, saw Phisusandra and Kol watching her from behind Shenwolf. Then her gaze fell upon the oval in the centre of the chamber. The mist within it had dulled, was an almost uniform grey now, billowing slowly in a barely perceptible flux. She drew back.
"Jace, what happened?"
"I’m not sure. Did you see something?"
"You vanished. You were approaching the oval. A cloud formed about you and you vanished. I tried to follow but could not get close. Then you reappeared."
Issul climbed dazedly to her feet, her eyes on the oval, knowing, or thinking she knew, what it was: a Farplace Opening - a means of transportation to a tower chamber within Enchantment.
"I- I don’t know what happened," she said, but in her mind a single thought resounded: I have been to Enchantment!
II
As they returned to the main camp the mammoth bulk of Ombo ambled towards them.
"We found two more," he said, nodding to the southeast corner of the camp. "Sneaked in from over there. Didn't really seem to know what was going on. They put up one heck of a fight. Karai bastards never know when they're beaten."
"Are they alive?" asked Issul.
The big man nodded. "Ilrin isn't, though."
"They killed him?" Ilrin had been one of the prisoners in Issul's hut.
"I told you, they fought like fury. Got 'em locked in the hut now."
"They must be the two who were underground," said Kol.
Issul veered towards the hut that had been her home for the past days. "Shenwolf, come with me. You others, I smell food cooking. Go, eat and rest yourselves. We’ll join you presently."
Inside the prison hut the two Karai were slumped on litters. They were bruised and bloodied, their wrists bound behind their backs.
"Stand!" ordered Shenwolf as they entered.
With some difficulty both Karai managed to scramble to their feet, though they remained bent and were obviously in pain. The bruises to their faces suggested they had taken a severe beating, probably after having their weapons taken from them. Issul was surprised, in fact, that they were alive. She was heartened, equally, that the former prisoners should have heeded her request not to kill them.
She recognized one of the Karai as a camp officer, and addressed herself to him. "Listen well. You are our prisoners now. Your companions are dead. I require obedience and answers to my questions. In return you may be permitted to live. Fail to do so and I will pass you into the care of my comrades, who are far less tolerant than I. Is that understood?"
Neither Karai replied.
"Is that understood?" Issul stepped up close to the officer and stared into his gem-eyes. He looked beyond her, through her, the gorgeous expressionless eyes shot with blood, the furrowed pale skin strangely livid with bruising.
"You do not help yourself," said Issul, becoming irritated. "I offer you life, perhaps even the chance of freedom."
The Karai's thin lips moved. "We are already dead."
"You look alive enough to me, though a little the worse for wear."
"We are prisoners, stripped of honour, shamed. The Karai do not become prisoners. They do not know shame. They fight until they are victorious, or they die. Thus you do not look upon the living."
Issul glanced at his companion, whose expression was equally inscrutable.
"Well, I can revivify you," she said. "The process is simple. I ask you questions, you answer. Thus you live again."
"Only a madwoman would ask questions of the dead. Only a fool would expect answers."
"I tire of this!" Issul flared.
Shenwolf moved up close behind the Karai and put a hand upon his bruised arm. "If you wish, I can prove to you that you are alive."
He squeezed. The Karai flinched and gasped with pain, turned burning, offended eyes to Shenwolf. Shenwolf released him. Issul said, "Tell me this, how did you construct the oval in the central chamber underground? It is a magical artefact. You could not do it alone. Who commands you, above your own Prince Anzejarl?"
The Karai officer turned back to her but remained silent.
Shenwolf moved to one side of the room, indicating to Issul that he wished to speak privately. When she joined him he said, in an undertone, "I believe I could change his mind if you so order, but in truth it would sicken me to apply such methods."
"I too. These are a strange people." She looked again at the Karai. "Is there nothing you will say for yourselves?"
The Karai officer stared off into the rafters. "We are the dead."
*
As they left the hut Issul mused, "What am I to make of them? They are an impossible folk. Were they human I would judge them cruel and heartless. We have seen what they have done, the way they use us as slaves without mercy, the way they set upon and murdered unarmed prisoners when they saw themselves beaten. These are inhuman actions. Yet is it possible to judge them by our own terms? They are not human, they are Karai. To deem them cruel has no meaning, for I do not perceive them as deriving pleasure from the harm or suffering they inflict upon us. It is all done with chill efficiency, emotionlessly, unfeelingly. I think they are incapable of knowing how we feel, perhaps even of knowing that we feel, just as we are incapable of understanding the concepts they put before us. We differ too radically in our culture, our customs, our very makeup. Were they human I would hate them, but they’re not, so I find it impossible to feel an appropriate emotion, or to judge them."
"That is a very magnanimous assessment."
"No, an impartial one."
"After what you have suffered and witnessed, you can be impartial?"
"I seek to understand my enemy, that’s all. It is possible that at some future time, through the understanding and acceptance of our differences, we may achieve the peace that eludes us now."
In the middle of the compound a fire blazed, a huge pot suspended above it. The erstwhile prisoners had made a rich venison stew with root vegetables and herbs, accompanied by cheese, fruit and the ubiquitous Karai bread. They gathered now eagerly around the fire as the stew bubbled and seethed. A small amount of ale and spirits had also been discovered in the storehut; the men were anticipating a fine celebration of liberty. Ombo, seated upon an upturned pale, lifted his cup as Issul and Shenwolf joined them.
"Lads, raise your cups! Let’s drink to Jace, who has saved us. Jace, a woman of exceptional courage and rare skills. The scourge of our enemies. And to her companion Shenwolf, also; mysterious bowman of the woods, courageous warrior, bedeviller of the bastard Karai!"
The men joined him in the toast, raucously and ebullient. Issul watched Ombo, wondering what to make of his change of heart. His cheeks were flushed, his movements exaggerated. Plainly much of the ale that had been found already resided in his gut. She stepped into the centre of the circle.
"Men, we have achieved much, but it is not over. Remember,
a Karai squad departed this camp just a few days ago. We should anticipate their return at any time. So eat your fill, but drink sparingly lest they march in to find us all soused and sleeping. We are free – let’s take care that we remain so."
Shenwolf took the moment to step up beside her and address the company. "Much has been achieved, but many tasks lie ahead, and dangers too. If we are to survive we require organization. An organization requires a leader, and I propose that we elect our leader now. We need a person brave, resourceful, inventive, decisive and resolute, someone with a gift for command, and a flare for combat, and lastly someone who has gained the respect and trust of every member of the organization. There is one here who has already proven herself well-qualified in each and all these areas. I nominate Jace to be our leader."
"I second the nomination!" roared Ombo.
Shenwolf looked about him. "Are any against? Speak now."
None spoke.
"Raise your hands all those who are in favour, then."
All raised their hands, and Issul was thus enthusiastically elected to leadership of the little band.
"A leader must have a second-in-command," said Issul. "My choice is Shenwolf. I ask you to obey him as you would obey me. Now, I need two volunteers immediately upon the gate. You will be replaced within half an hour so that you can eat."
Kol stood, as did another, a burly fellow named Mondam, and made off for the gate.
"You others eat and drink - but remember, not to your cups. In due course Shenwolf will assign proper guard duties. Don’t shirk, and remain alert at all times. Tomorrow we’ll take our leave of this place forever."
The food was ladled into bowls and they ate merrily. Issul, seating herself between Shenwolf and Phisusandra, became suddenly aware of how tired and drained she felt. She had no desire to talk, yet some things could not be left alone.
"Phis, what did you sense when we were in that chamber?" she asked the Murinean.
Phisusandra chewed thoughtfully on his food before replying. "It was as I said. There was something that could not be explained in normal terms. There was magic, if that is an explanation."
"Was it focused upon the oval?"
"Aye. That 'thing' was a focus of strange power. And when it took you the power was amplified - my skin tingled."
"And upon my return?"
"The same. Do you recall anything of what happened to you?"
Issul glanced to the ground. Part of her seemed not to want to recall. "I am not sure. It is almost as if I dreamed and only snatches of the dream remain." She turned to Shenwolf. "Tomorrow I want that chamber sealed so that none might enter." She almost added: And also so that none might leave!
Shenwolf gave a nod. "We must also dispose as best we can of the slooths that roost around the feeding pen."
"Of course." Issul gave a shudder. "Tonight they will go hungry."
"Why so?" came Herbin's voice indignantly from the other side of the fire. "We have their food, trussed up ready in the hut."
Issul shook her head. "Herbin, that’s not our way."
"It’s what they did to us!"
"Do you harbour a desire to become like them?" asked Shenwolf.
"I wish them to experience what my father experienced," said Herbin, his voice breaking.
Putting down her bowl, Issul rose and stepped around the fire. She squatted before Herbin and looked into his face. He could not meet her eyes, but she took his hands in hers. "We are not like the Karai, Herbin, and they are not like us. I know how you must feel--"
"You do not, Jace. How can you?"
Herbin's jaw trembled, his cheeks pale and taut. Tears broke suddenly from his eyes and he turned away, bowing his head. Issul stroked his hair, aware that the others watched and remembering suddenly that they knew nothing of the slooths on the other side of the camp. "Herbin, we have found freedom today. Rejoice in that. It came too late for Miseon, but you must look to the future now. Don’t become bitter and twisted with thoughts of revenge. Do not hate, for it serves no purpose other than to make you less than what you are. More Karai deaths will not assuage your feelings. Your task is to survive, to return to your family as a man who has no crime upon his conscience, a man who can help them to rebuild their lives as you rebuild your own. You understand that, don't you?"
Herbin could not speak, though he nodded his head. Presently Issul left him and returned to her place. "How do propose dealing with the slooths?" she asked Shenwolf.
"I have been wondering about that. They’re difficult to kill, and we are few in number. I will not knowingly risk any of our lives. But flaming arrows fired at close quarters from beneath the trees where they roost should at least disable some without providing great hazard to ourselves. With your agreement I will take five men before dusk, when the slooths sleep."
"They should be volunteers, informed of what they are about. But I think Herbin will wish to be among them."
Finishing her meal Issul felt a desire for solitude. She left the group and took herself off to the Karai command hut. She sat down upon the floor, her back against the wall.
I have been to Enchantment!
The certainty was clear, but her memory was not. It was too dreamlike, just as she had described to Phisusandra. Vivid, disturbing images remained: three identical childlike creatures with unnaturally white hair and eyes like burning lapis. Triune, broken and scattered, soon to be One again. The changing coloured air outside the high window of the tower, the mountains of unnatural flame. Issul recalled - or thought she recalled - that the tallest child had given her something. She searched her clothing but could find nothing that had not been there before.
What happened to me there? What was the purpose of that place? The three, Triune, had described themselves as guardian of the Farplace Opening, but who or what had been its creator? Had it been created with the intention of allowing something out of Enchantment into the Karai camp and the world of Enchantment's Reach beyond?
Her mind could not cope with it all. Such a tumult of emotion surged within her, and she felt utterly weary. Leth, I want to come home now. I’m tired and I miss you. Jalry, Jace, my babies, I miss you so. Mama will come home to you, soon, as soon as I can.
She was filled with sadness and longing, and the fear that she might never see her children and husband again. Quite suddenly she burst into tears. She slipped to the floor, her head upon the hard wooden boards, and sobbed, more alone than she had ever felt in her life. Within moments she had fallen asleep.
III
When Issul awoke it was dark. She sat up dazedly, gazing about her, at first unsure of where she was. Someone had lit an oil lamp and placed a blanket over her.
As the memory of the past days returned she stood, stiffly, took the lamp and moved to the door and looked out at the compound. All was quiet. The fire burned in the centre and in each of the two watchtowers visible from where she stood Issul could make out the dim silhouette of a guard.
A figure materialized silently at her side. She started, stepping back and reaching for her sword, then in the lamplight recognized the familiar face. "Shenwolf!"
"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you."
"How long have I slept?"
"Six hours, maybe seven."
"Six hours?" She looked at the stars. "It must be near midnight, then. You should have woken me."
"You needed the sleep, and there was no need. I assigned guard duties till morning. Those men not on duty are resting now. If you are hungry, there is food by the fire."
Issul nodded. "Will you join me?"
They crossed the compound and Issul slumped upon a stool as Shenwolf prepared to ladle stew from the great pot. Half-consciously in the firelight she watched his lean figure as he bent over the pot, and found for some reason that she was gazing at his buttocks. Quickly she shifted her gaze, but she was struck with a strange, inexplicable notion of having been here before.
"Shenwolf?"
"Jace?" He grinned as he turned to her,
still enjoying the shared pretence of her identity. She studied his young face in the orangey glow, and for the first time she realized that she had seen him before. Somewhere, before he had saved her life in the slooths' feeding pen.
Shenwolf. The name had seemed familiar when he first named himself, but she had not given it another thought since. Now, quite suddenly, she had it. She recalled the afternoon at Orbia, standing with her sister Mawnie on the edge of the sunlit parade-ground. A soldier riding by; one among many.
She smiled to herself as she recalled Mawnie's comments. That was what had had drawn Issul's attention to his buttocks.
Shenwolf regarded her with a quizzical smile. "Jace?"
Issul looked away, her cheeks growing warm. "I'm sorry, I was in a reverie. It was-- I have just recalled seeing you before. I was with my sister-"
"Beside the parade-ground. I remember it well." Shenwolf passed her a bowl of stew, then filled his own and sat beside her. "It was a surprise. Though I had encountered your sister briefly before, I did not know she was the Duchess of Giswel. Sister of the Queen, what's more! To then see the two of you. . . ."
Issul smiled again, recalling the look upon his face that afternoon.
"You know," Shenwolf said, "it was an extraordinary moment for me."
"How so?"
"I had heard tell of the Queen's rare beauty many times, but until then I hadn’t witnessed it for myself. But on that day, when I saw you standing there, I saw that the stories had not been exaggerated. And I knew then, without question, that I had found my life's purpose: to be in your service."
Issul glanced away again, a sudden confusion of feelings flaring in her breast. The way he said it, the way he looked at her. . . it had the ring of something more than soldierly devotion.
"I am sorry, Majesty - Jace. I spoke out of hand."
"No. I’m honoured, Shenwolf. So many times in the last few days you have demonstrated your complete devotion to the Crown. It will not be forgotten."
She chose her words carefully. Shenwolf nodded inwardly. "My greatest reward will be to continue to serve you."
