by Alon Shalev
“Assume nothing,” Rhoddan snapped. “Not even that you will live to see the day through. Come on, let’s move.”
“Don’t you worry about your friends back there?”
“There is no time.” Rhoddan was putting his backpack on.
“That’s pretty heartless–”
Seanchai felt himself slammed against the rock face, a hand fisting his shirt, a rock jutting into his back. Rhoddan’s eyes flashed. “Yochai is my father.”
With that, he let go of Seanchai and left the cave. Either he never heard Seanchai’s apology or didn’t care.
Around midday, Rhoddan stopped abruptly and crouched by a feather protruding from under a rock. He looked around, moved a few paces and overturned another rock to reveal a small leather pouch.
“Drink,” he ordered Seanchai as he opened the pouch. “And eat this.” He held out something brown and brittle. “Chew carefully if you value your teeth.”
“Thank you,” said Seanchai, anxious to appease his guide. “What is it?”
“Smoked fish. It’s tough; you’ll need to work hard before you can swallow it.” Seeing Seanchai vaguely hurt and confused by his abruptness, Rhoddan relented. “When you’re in danger like this, it’s wise to preserve your strength. Speak only when necessary. Move only on the chosen path. Eat and drink enough to satiate hunger and thirst. Otherwise focus all your energy on your surroundings and your goal.”
“Where did you learn all this?”
“I train to be a warrior like my father. It’s all that’s important to me. Now, please, shut up and eat.”
They chewed in silence until Seanchai noticed Rhoddan fiddling with the brown feather. When Rhoddan saw Seanchai watching him, he raised the feather. “Sellia,” was all he said.
Seanchai looked around, expecting to see the beautiful, dark-skinned elfe. This made Rhoddan laugh, and Seanchai feel foolish.
“It’s better that she and the others keep a watchful distance,” Rhoddan said. “They can guard and provide us with food without compromising our presence. If we’re caught, it’ll be nice to know they’re out there.” Rhoddan rose, stuffed the remainder of the food back into his pack, and resumed walking.
Soon the path straightened out and began to descend. The elves saw a speck of blue ahead. “We can camp near that lake,” Rhoddan said without stopping.
When they reached the lake several hours later, they found a mountain goat on the ground shot through its eye. Blood was still trickling down its face and onto the stony path.
“We’re being well taken care of,” Seanchai said as he helped Rhoddan pick up the goat. “Our feet may be sore, but we won’t suffer from hunger.”
Rhoddan grunted and gestured with his head toward a cavern where Seanchai noticed a small pile of firewood. Rhoddan took out his knife and said, “We will cook the meat, but then extinguish the fire. You rest.”
Seanchai wanted to help, but he was exhausted and couldn’t do more than slump against the rock wall. He watched as Rhoddan lit some dry moss under the wood and swiftly carved very thin slices of meat, laying them over the fire.
“Why are you cutting the meat so thin?”
“It needs to cook quickly. We don’t want this fire going for long,” Rhoddan replied.
The meat tasted raw to Seanchai but he didn’t say anything. As they ate, Rhoddan cooked the rest of the goat. He wrapped the meat in small pieces of leather and put them to one side. Seanchai watched Rhoddan work, his guide’s face as impassive as ever. After a while Seanchai spoke.
“I’m sorry about your father. I’m sorry about what I said. It must be–”
“You don’t help me by speaking of this.” Rhoddan’s gaze remained locked on his food, but Seanchai sensed he was working hard to maintain composure.
“I just wanted to …”
Rhoddan sighed. “I know. I appreciate it, but please don’t.”
They ate in silence and Seanchai stared out of the small cave. A thought occurred to him. “Why doesn’t Sellia or the others join us? Surely it’s safer in numbers?”
“Your safety is their only concern,” Rhoddan replied, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Whatever it takes, you must be delivered safely.”
“Why?”
“You ask too many questions and I don’t have the answers. All I know is that your escape has been carefully planned and many are ready to die for you. Stand guard and gradually put dirt on the fire. Not too quickly–we don’t want to send up any smoke that might give our position away.” With that, Rhoddan lay down and wrapped his cloak around himself.
“Thank you,” whispered Seanchai from the mouth of the cave. He folded his hands against his chest and muttered, “... for whatever reason you’re all doing this.”
Three
“Wake up.” Rhoddan shook him. “It’s dawn and we need to leave.”
“What about breakfast?” Seanchai yawned.
“I cooked you some scrambled eggs and fried mushrooms,” the young warrior replied, rolling his eyes. “Chew on some dried meat as we walk.”
Seanchai stretched and moaned. “It’s still dark out. Ouch! My back’s so stiff. Do I have time to at least wash my face, and…relieve myself?”
Rhoddan nodded impatiently, and soon enough they were walking briskly around the lake. As he followed Rhoddan, Seanchai took in the soft hues of dawn on the rocks. What would become a harsh white was now a soft gold. He sighed as he adjusted his pack and wondered whether he would ever again live in a forest instead of rough mountains.
Seanchai’s thoughts turned to how badly he wanted Rhoddan to like and respect him. He didn’t want to be thought of as a soft village boy, though he conceded to himself that that’s exactly what he was. Observing his guide’s lean and muscular frame, Seanchai subconsciously flexed his biceps and felt a rather pathetic bulge.
They climbed the pass that led through the Ardian Mountains without event, save for Rhoddan, steady and confident in his purpose, occasionally turning to glare at Seanchai for inadvertently kicking pebbles into Rhoddan’s heels. With the rising temperature, their water canteens were soon empty and Seanchai’s mouth became dry. But Rhoddan kept the pace steady and he gritted his teeth. He was determined not to show any weakness and said nothing of his discomfort, though he was very much relieved when the path began to descend.
Rhoddan led Seanchai into a tight gorge between two rocks so narrow that they were forced to remove their packs from their backs in order to slip through. Seanchai smelled the moisture before he saw the water. It trickled down a crevice and into a puddle under a tall rock. Rhoddan knelt and filled his canteen and gestured for Seanchai to do the same. Both elves drank deeply.
They rested, enjoying shelter from the hot sun. Seanchai was dozing when he felt pebbles hit his head. He opened his eyes to see Rhoddan draw his long knife in a flash and gesture for Seanchai to hide under the rocks. Seanchai shook his head and drew his own knife, though his hand shook. Both crouched for what seemed ages to Seanchai, and then a soft bleating accompanied hoofbeats of animals dropping to the path from the rock further along.
“Guess we’re not the only ones using this water source,” Seanchai said as he stood up and sighed. He realized that he had been holding his breath.
Rhoddan nodded. He rose suddenly and slammed Seanchai against the rock as he had earlier. His nostrils flared and he held his blade up.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it without question,” he growled. “I signaled for you to hide and you disobeyed me. Don’t play hero until you’ve learned how.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you to–”
Rhoddan tightened his grip. “Listen to me. There’re a lot of people risking their lives for you. This isn’t a child’s game in your village. You’re no good to anyone dead and you dishonor those who have already died for you. Maybe my father is one of them. You must make it alive to your uncle.”
A confused Seanchai stood frozen for several seconds before Rhoddan loosened his g
rip with chagrin. He patted Seanchai on his chest. “Come,” his said in a softer tone. “We must reach our base before dark.”
The mountain path descended now surrounded by rocks turned a soft red by the sinking sun. Seanchai marveled at the different colors the same rocks took throughout the day, stopping abruptly as they rounded a sharp curve that opened into flat grassland.
“The Kuro Plains.” Rhoddan waved his hand. “My role ends when I get you to the other side.”
Seanchai saw what he hoped was a forest on the far side of the flat land and started to cross. He stopped when he saw Rhoddan hesitating. A slight breeze ruffled his guide’s long dark hair and Seanchai saw uncertainty on his young face as Rhoddan glanced back at the peaks behind them.
“What is it?” Seanchai asked, his hand moving toward his dagger.
“We should already be across. I’m not sure if we should stop for the night or keep going and try to pass. The road is patrolled and I don’t know their routine. We wouldn’t be able to see the dust they kick up like we would in the daylight. There are also others waiting for us at the edge of those woods, and I’m worried they might misidentify us in the dark.” He looked at Seanchai carefully and said, “Close your eyes and listen to your inner voice. Try and see if there’s anyone out there.”
Seanchai stared at him. “Me! Why?”
“Because I trust your instinct,” Rhoddan sighed.
“You do?”
“No, but my father does. I was told to if…” There was a slight panic in his voice as he explained. “Please, try.”
Seanchai leaned against a rock and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply as a village healer would, relaxing his mind and sending it out over the plains. It was a strange feeling but somehow felt natural. Suddenly something cold and foreboding stopped him, like a black wall. Scared, he withdrew his mind and opened his eyes.
“Let’s camp here in the mountains,” Seanchai said. “We’ll cross the plain in the morning light.”
Rhoddan nodded his assent and doubled back on the path. They settled nearby in a small clearing with rocks shielding their perimeter, chewing on dried goat meat. Rhoddan’s eyes darted in the direction of every sound he heard, whether a whistle in the wind or the rattle of falling pebbles. Occasionally he glanced over at Seanchai.
“Why do you keep rubbing your head?” Rhoddan asked.
Seanchai frowned, only now noticing a dull throb. “I don’t know,” he replied, “It’s just a headache.”
“Sleep,” Rhoddan suggested. “I’ll wake you when I tire.”
Seanchai lay down and wrapped his blanket around himself. But despite his fatigue he was unable to sleep. Why were others risking their lives for him? Why had Rhoddan’s father trusted his instinct? And what was this dull ache in his head?
His eyes flew open to the sound of cries and the clash of steel on steel from the plains below. Rhoddan put a hand on his shoulder and a finger to his lips. They crawled over to the clearing’s edge to see what was happening. The moon revealed fleeting silhouettes of riders on horses. Two groups were fighting.
It was over in minutes. There had been an ambush. Once back in the clearing, Rhoddan and Seanchai sat and looked at each other.
“We’d have walked straight into an ambush,” said Seanchai, his breath quick. “It was lucky we didn’t try and cross tonight.”
“No,” his companion replied with awe in his voice. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”
Four
Seanchai woke just before dawn, cold and shivering. He wanted to begin walking immediately and tried to warm himself by breathing into his cupped palms and then rubbing his body vigorously. When that didn’t work, he jumped up and down on the spot until he saw Rhoddan glaring at him.
“We should cross as early as possible,” Rhoddan said. “It’ll be easy to see us on flat land, even from a distance.”
“What will we do if a patrol spots us?” Seanchai asked anxiously as he scanned the terrain. His hand rose to his forehead to shield his eyes from the rising sun.
“You will run like the wind. Drop everything and fly,” Rhoddan’s voice became harsh, “and this time … don’t hesitate. And don’t look back.”
Seanchai opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Hopefully, this was all theoretical. They walked briskly for several hours, stopping only to drink water. Midway between the mountains and what Seanchai was now thrilled to see was indeed a forest, they found a narrow brook. It would be easy to jump over, just a little more than a big step. But Rhoddan scanned all around and then signaled Seanchai to crouch with him.
“Keep vigilant,” he said and bent over to fill his canteen. When he was finished, he motioned for Seanchai to do the same.
The water was cold and refreshing, and Seanchai drank copiously. After he had quenched his thirst and replenished his canteen, he rose, saying he was ready.
Rhoddan grabbed his arm and pulled him back down roughly. His nails dug into Seanchai’s forearm. “Fool. A bowman can fell you even if he’s a hundred yards away.”
“Well, one of us has to rise,” Seanchai said in a high-pitched voice revealing how upset he was at his own stupidity.
Rhoddan glared at him before standing cautiously. After surveying their surroundings, he muttered, “Let’s go.”
With each hour the forest loomed bigger before them and Seanchai became angry at the arrogant younger elf. If they had been in the village, Seanchai would have had the upper hand, being older and already apprenticing with his mother.
But they weren’t in the village. Rhoddan was in command because he was battle tested. His anger faded to shame as he realized that Rhoddan was willing to die to ensure Seanchai’s safety. He wondered if he would ever be brave enough to risk his life for another, much less a stranger.
His thoughts returned to the forest that was fast rising up before them. He was comforted at the prospect of being back among trees, which felt more like his village surroundings and offered a sense of security. But he wasn’t secure yet–both boys stopped in their tracks as they heard a high-pitched screech.
“What bird –” Seanchai froze in mid sentence when he saw his guide’s face.
“No bird. A signal. Run,” Rhoddan hissed, and there was no mistaking the fear in his voice. He unsheathed both knives and whirled behind Seanchai. “Run fast!”
Seanchai hesitated for just a moment but fled for the trees when he heard the hooves and shouts.
Arrows crossed in the air over his head, and he realized they were flying from different directions. Suddenly a dozen men on horses were charging toward him. He cringed, covering his head and screwing up his eyes. But the horsemen galloped past him with swords and long knives drawn. One stopped and held out an arm. Seanchai grabbed it. If this man were an enemy, he would hardly be offering Seanchai a ride.
The horseman whirled, drove his horse back into the forest, and dumped Seanchai next to a row of archers before he turned back to join the fray. An elfe grabbed his arm and steered him toward a horse without a rider.
“Come, we must move you away.” She grabbed the horse’s reins.
Seanchai started to climb onto the horse, then stopped and looked back at the fight. “We must help Rhoddan.”
“Who? Your guide? The others will help him if they can. But they were told to hold off only long enough to get you out.”
“But Rhoddan–” Seanchai began.
“–has served his purpose,” she snapped. “If he dies, he will die well.”
“No!” Seanchai ran toward the sound of clashing swords. He struggled to draw his long knife from its sheath.
The elfe leaped onto the horse and cut off Seanchai’s path. “You must come with me. They will help him if they can.”
“He’s willing to risk his life for me,” Seanchai yelled. “I can’t leave him!”
“Many others have risked their lives for you,” she screamed back. “Don’t let it be in vain.” There was an edge of panic in her voice and, though Se
anchai couldn’t see her face beneath her helmet, he thought for a moment that she might also be young. “You must come with me.”
“I don’t leave my friends.”
Seanchai dodged around her horse and ran out from the cover of trees. The fighters protecting him were retreating. He ran past them to find a half dozen heavily mailed soldiers in black and crimson armor. Lying on a horse behind them was Rhoddan. He wasn’t moving, and Seanchai could see he had been beaten.
Something inside of Seanchai snapped. Red mist erupted into his vision and a primeval scream escaped his lips. He would not know the words he cried for several months afterward, but he instinctually dropped his knife and ran forward awkwardly, his palms out.
The soldiers screamed and dropped lifeless to the ground as Seanchai ran through them. He jumped onto the horse holding the limp body of Rhoddan and grabbed the reins. The horse set off at a wild, hysterical gallop, shaking its head from side-to-side and bellowing in panic. Seanchai jerked back the reins and half jumped, half fell off. The horse cantered nervously in place and then calmed.
Seanchai turned back. He instinctively knew that no soldier was alive where he had dropped his knife. His breath caught as the realization of what had just transpired became clear to him. What had he done? Where had that power come from? He stared at his warm, tingling hands and felt a wave of fear.
He decided to return to find his knife, a final gift from his father. He also needed to see what he had done to the soldiers. He checked Rhoddan’s neck and, feeling a strong pulse, grabbed the reins and steered the horse back the way they had come.
He found smoldering, charred men and huge creatures that he thought might be pictorians. They were horned and bear-like, but walked on two feet. He could see from their thick muscles why they were such ferocious soldiers. He crouched and saw their melted metal armor, horror carved into their faces. A large elf–clearly not a soldier–watched Seanchai approach. His expression was a mix of awe and fear.
