Tall was on his knees, his face buried in his hands when Avea embraced him and said, “Rhyliath had no right to tell you that.”
“Is it true?” Tall asked, his voice breaking with sorrow.
Avea gripped Tall’s arm at the elbow. “It is. Alkin and I were too late, and we returned to find they’d taken Ray. Kerry was lost to us the week before. Pitched battles, but uneven ones. They simply numbered too many, and they came not to conquer but for them. We realized too late. The wizard is good at deception. His eye turns one way while his hands reach otherwise.”
Tall didn’t hear everything Avea said. His thoughts were far away. He wanted to know if his father lived, if his mother lived, if Ellie lived. “The village?” He asked. “Why?”
Avea steadied Tall on his feet. “Perhaps, an attempt to break the cycle of the ages.”
“The tree, does it yet stand?” Tall was in tears. He asked about the tree but suddenly all he could think about was that he’d never be able to tell Ellie that he loved her and that he’d never be able to feel her lips press his cheek with a kiss as he had felt Deanna’s. It was a selfish thought, he knew.
“It does,” Avea said. “The wizard was after something. I think now it was you. If so, you are hope from ashes.”
Tall was stunned and dazed by the news. Avea took him to the fire, sat him down, then took a seat across from him. He noticed absently that his brood followed. He was angry. His anger made him focus on the one responsible. The wizard.
His thoughts turned. He knew he needed to learn Avea’s ways and gather information if he was going to defeat the wizard. “Are the other things Rhyliath said true?”
“That depends on what Rhyliath said.” Avea turned to the rider, Alkin, as he approached. She pointed to Tall’s brood, said, “Feed them. When their bellies are full, teach them to draw so they strengthen and not lessen.” To which Alkin replied, “Yes, my lady.”
Tall wondered how much Avea would share with him and whether he could trust her truly. He shifted his feet nervously. “Teach them to draw? My lady?”
“You heard that?” Avea asked. Tall nodded his head. Avea clarified, “I mean to say, you understood that exchange. Yes?”
Tall realized he had, just as he realized they’d spoken in the harsh style of the undermountain men. Avea glared in Rhyliath’s direction. The great lizard was just settling down after his brief flight. “Meddling, meddling,” she said, her voice raised above normal conversation but below a shout.
Rhyliath replied just as firmly, “It had to be done. We’ve little enough time as it is.”
Day came softly. Smoke from the campfire caught in the sunlight. Tall’s hunger showed in the growling of his stomach, his weariness in the ache of his body. He could scarcely keep his eyes open.
“Rhyliath’s right, you know,” Avea said, turning back to Tall. “We’ve little time. My granddaughter is lost to us, but there is hope to recover Ray. They’ve many days of marching ahead before they reach the stronghold. If it hadn’t been for—”
Rhyliath harrumphed as he settled beside Avea and folded his great wings behind him. “Blame the boy when we’re all as much to blame. Few are those who can outthink such a wizard.”
Avea replied, “Unfair, you know I have before and will again. You just want to raise my mettle.”
Avea and Rhyliath continued, their conversation flitting back and forth like a hummingbird’s wings. Tall heard little of their banter. Thoughts of revenge filled him. He would kill the wizard. He would, even if it were the last thing he ever did, which likely it would be.
Hate and anger filled Tall. He seethed and plotted the wizard’s death in his mind. His rage so overcame him that he jumped up, shouting and waving his fists. There was no emotion on his face as he retook his seat by the fire. Avea and Rhyliath seemed to notice him again. Avea knelt beside him, “You’ve had quite the day. You should sleep before we move out.”
Tall didn’t move. There was so much he needed to know, to learn. “You never answered my questions. What did you mean when you said, ‘Teach them to draw?’ And why did they call you, ‘My lady?’”
Avea pressed a finger between his eyes. He felt the weight of it, though she never touched him. “By bonding with them, you’ve awakened something in them, just as this awakens something in you. Teaching them to draw on this instead of from you strengthens you both. It’ll help rid your need for seed.” Rhyliath harrumphed again. Alkin, who was pacing back and forth on the other side of the fire, growled. “I know what I’ve done,” Avea said. “I’ve prolonged it. Yes, but he’s alive and not dead because of it.”
“You don’t know that,” Alkin shot back.
“I do,” Avea said. “I didn’t before, but I know now. Look at him. He sits here plotting and scheming, wondering whether he can trust us even now. He has no control left. His emotions flow like water. He was too deep, too long.”
“I have control,” Tall shouted. “Am I angry? Yes. Who wouldn’t be? Do I distrust? Yes. Who wouldn’t if they were me?”
Alkin ignored this outburst. “Ehzrit said nothing of this.”
“But he knew,” Avea said. “He was afraid to tell us.”
“For fear of what you mi—” Alkin said.
“Yes, exactly,” Avea cut in. To Tall, she said, “You’ve traveled, haven’t you?”
Tall eyed her, squinting into the sunbeams of emerging daylight. “Of course, how else would I get here?”
“He doesn’t know,” Rhyliath said.
Alkin said, “He knows.”
Avea pulled back her finger, causing Tall to start. “He knows.” To Tall, she said, “What otherworlder has tethered to you? Out with it, describe him.”
Tall started to speak, Alkin cut in. “He’s of no use. Ruined to us.” He pointed at Tall, gestured angrily with his hands, then walked away.
Tall shouted at the other’s retreating back. “I’m not ruined. I am of use to you. You said I had the light of a seer. You need a seer. I can become that seer.”
“Go home to what’s left,” Alkin said, and then he continued into the darkness.
Grandin, who had been silent, weighed in, “Uncalled for. The boy is blameless. He had no part in any of it. It was I who found him; I who nursed him.” He paused for a moment. When he continued his heavy eyes were fixed on Avea’s. “I know him better than any of you. There’s strength in him and his heart is as strong as his mind.”
Avea held Grandin’s gaze, intimidating as it was. “A protector needs a heart as strong as his mind,” Avea said gently. From the way she said it, Tall knew she was speaking to something that had passed between the two previous to this night. To Tall, she said, “You’ve won over Grandin, a mighty feat, and I’ve a mind to follow his lead. Describe the otherworlder now. Spare no detail.”
Tall described the specter clad in tattered, but-once-fine robes. The glowing eyes. The weathered face. The sunken cheeks. The head adorned with a crown of bones and wood. Alkin returned, wide-eyed. “Could it be?” he asked. To which, Avea replied, “I think so.” And Rhyliath said, “I as well.”
Rhyliath seemed to take a sudden interest in Tall. “Tell me,” Rhyliath said, “What did Tag’Erh think of you?”
“Tag’Erh?” Tall said. Then he remembered Ehzrit’s great cat. He told how Tag’Erh’s tail sliced the air, how he strutted, scraping the floor with his claws, and how he jumped up and pinned Tall to the table. Then he told them of Ehzrit’s nervous laughter and how badly he wanted seed.
Avea lamented this, as did Alkin. Avea said, “I should’ve seen the signs.”
Alkin put a hand on her shoulder. “No, no one could have seen. Ehzrit didn’t want us to know. But we should know to look. There is no true cure. The hunger is ever present. Controlling the hunger is at best what we can do.”
From the way he said it, Tall knew Alkin had once had the wizard’s curse as well. It was perhaps the reason Alkin distrusted him. Rhyliath said, “He lied to us.”
“At the least,�
�� Avea said. “I fear the worst. If he’s gone back to—”
Rhyliath bellowed, “Tag’Erh would never allow it.”
“Easy now,” Avea said, her voice edged with softness. “None but Tag’Erh and Ehzrit truly know what one or the other will or won’t allow.”
“I know,” Rhyliath said.
“All right,” Avea acceded. To Tall, she said, “You’ve given us much to think about as we prepare. It’ll be a long hunt. Best you rest now. I’ll wake you after midday. We travel then.”
Tall tried to refuse, but Avea already was leading him away from the fire. “Don’t lose hope,” Avea told him as she pointed out a place for him to sleep. “Ray’s family may have been the only one lost. We arrived too late, had to rush back too quickly to know all.”
Leaning back, Tall asked, “Why?” It was a simple question, with a lot unspoken behind it.
Avea leaned over and kissed his cheek as she might a child’s. Quietly she said, “We don’t have all the answers. We just don’t. The wizard does as he does. Sleep now, no objections.” And Tall did.
Chapter 15: The Hunt Begins
Midday came much sooner than Tall thought it would. His body ached, and though he stretched and worked his muscles he couldn’t get the pain to ebb. It was Grandin who awoke and fed him. Avea and Alkin, riding Rhyliath, were just returning.
For a beast that was not a dragon, Rhyliath sure had the look of one, at least if tales of such things had any truth to them. As far as truth and trust went, Tall trusted his new companions, but was unsure about all that had been said. They’d saved him. There was no question about that. Their aim was to rescue Ray. There was no question about that either. But so much was happening so fast, he’d had little time to absorb it all. His goal had been to find Ray and return with him so that Ray could save his village and his people, but it seemed he was too late.
“You question. I understand,” Rhyliath said. “But you are hardly too late for anything. None of what’s happened could have been averted and you need only think bigger to see what’s at stake.”
Avea called out, “Rhyliath, enough. He’s much to learn, but in due course.” Rhyliath snorted, plodded away. To Tall, Avea said, “Finish that. We’ve to leave. Alkin has found their trail. Grandin and his have something to share.”
Tall swallowed the last spoonful of the pasty gruel. He followed Avea. She led him to his brood. There was a pond north of the camp. The bulls played and hunted fish in it. Lady and Lucky grazed on the high shore grasses. These same grasses were Hazard’s hunting grounds. The slither loved the long-tailed things Deanna called “rats.”
“We’ve a problem,” Avea said, pointing.
Tall was afraid of what she might say next. He said quickly, “They’ve followed me this far. Waited, even when I was in the city.”
“That’s not the problem,” Avea said. “Grandin will train them properly soon enough.”
Tall forced himself to take a deep breath. His heart was racing. The mere thought of being separated from his brood again was terrifying.
“That’s the problem exactly,” Avea said, taking him by the arm.
He tried to shake off her grip. It was eerie enough that Rhyliath seemed to be able to read his thoughts, but Avea too?
“Yes, me too,” Avea said. “You all but broadcast them to the world, and I need you to stop.”
It was Tall’s turn to harrumph. How was such a thing possible? How was any of it possible? How could he stop what he didn’t understand? Was he just supposed to tell himself to stop and it would.
“No,” Avea said, “But it would be a start. The more practical thing to do is to want to stop, to focus and direct your thoughts, and to enclose your thoughts otherwise. The connections work both ways. You tether to the host. True enough. But it is the host who allows the tether in the first place.”
“Focus. Direct. Enclose. Bah!” Tall said to himself as much as to Avea.
Avea turned on her heel and started back to camp. “Well enough for a first try,” she called back.
Tall hurried after her, calling out, “I didn’t do anything!”
“But you did,” Avea said as he caught up to her. “In all my days, I’ve never met anyone like you, Tall. You’ve a truer gift than any I’ve ever known in all my years, and yet no knowledge of how to control it. I wonder myself how can that be.”
“Seer. Caller. Tree singer. What does any of it mean?” Tall said. “The smoot said I was a caller with the heart of a seer. I didn’t understand then. I don’t understand now.”
The camp was alive with activity when they returned. Alkin and Grandin joined her side immediately. To Grandin’s men who were breaking camp, Avea said, “It’s time. Past time.” To Grandin, Avea said, “The beasts are yours to tend with. The boy rides Rhyliath with Alkin and I, an extra pair of eyes on the lookout for the wizard’s soldiers.”
Grandin nodded. He seemed pleased with the decision. Quite the opposite, though, was Alkin’s expression, which was dark. Clearly he didn’t like the idea.
Grandin gave Avea her sword and belt. Tall hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t wearing the blade. He thought someone like her would never be parted from her weapon. He thought the same of all of them.
Grandin seemed about to lose his lunch. He choked and swallowed, then after a quiet moment, said, “I thought you were going to teach him the closing.”
Avea spoke as she donned the belt, put her sword at her side, “We win this war against the wizard by doing the unexpected. He knows what he needs to know. If he chooses to do so, he does. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”
Alkin said, “The boy needs proper training.”
Avea said, “Does he now? I wonder what would happen if I try to tame his gift. I wonder if such a thing could and should be tamed, or if it is best untamed. Wild things are unpredictable. Tame a wild beast and it becomes predictable. Clear enough for you now?”
Tall wondered that they talked like he wasn’t there until he realized what he heard and what they spoke were different. They spoke in a sing-song language as unlike the harsh undermountain speech as his own language. He cleared his throat, was about to object when Avea glared at him. “And Rhyliath,” she called out. “Thank you very much for teaching him the listening.”
The edge to her voice was chilling. Now it was Rhyliath’s turn to object. “I merely suggested—”
“The boy hasn’t a clue what he does. Might as well be a trained pig—at the least you could eat the pig when you tire of it or it dies.”
The remark cut at Tall as much as Rhyliath. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he cared what Avea thought of him, except that he did care. Somehow what Avea thought of him mattered a great deal.
Alkin climbed onto Rhyliath’s back, put his hand out to Tall. Avea followed. Rhyliath launched into the air, rapidly stroking his wings.
Flight. It seemed a mighty struggle destined to failure, perhaps because Rhyliath carried three passengers instead of two, but more so because the lizard was so very large. The thought that something so immense could fly seemed preposterous. Yet there Rhyliath was, beating his wings furiously and climbing into the sky.
Rhyliath made no complaint even as he strained to circle around and level out on a northwesterly path. On the ground below, Grandin and his men moved at a pace that belied their stout frames and heavy packs. Tall’s brood followed closely, with Lucky and Lady moving at the rear due to the saddle bags and other cargo they were weighed down with. Tall didn’t mind that they were being used as pack animals, but he wished Avea, Grandin, or someone had asked him first.
His frustration gave way to wonder. He never dreamed of going where buzzers lived or soaring where rain birthed. Their course made the sun seem a great orange ball that loomed just out of reach. Tall imagined he could wrap his arms around it and snatch it out of the sky—if he dared.
He closed his eyes against Rhyliath’s sudden rise and fall. Wind rushed by his ears. His stomach was in his throat.
&n
bsp; Born to a floating world as he was, sudden shifting and other movements were not unusual. The movement of the land spoke to him, as did the ebb and flow. It was in fact the stillness of the stone land that made him homesick. He longed to feel the earth move under his feet again. This was different, however. There seemed no method, rhythm, or sense to it. He felt like they were so much jetsam caught in a flow, for the air seemed as much in control as Rhyliath.
As he stared into the distance, he studied Rhyliath’s movements. Rhyliath stroked his wings repeatedly to climb, set his wings to glide, tucked his wings to dive. But then suddenly, for no reason, they’d be buffeted about, like they were fighting a force unseen.
A sudden popping of his ears caused him to cry out. It wasn’t until he screamed and his ears crackled that he realized there was something wrong. He could hear, but sound was muffled.
Complete Magic Lands Books 1 & 2 Omnibus Page 22
