by Alon Shalev
“What happ–”
Seanchai stopped when Ilana squeezed his arm.
“Thank you, but we must go,” she said to the blacksmith as she pulled Seanchai back through the slit.
“Thank you,” Seanchai called over his shoulder.
Away from the enclosure, Ilana let go of Seanchai. He stopped abruptly.
“Why did you interrupt me? Where I come from–”
Ilana touched his arm again, but this time it was gentle, and his irritation subsided.
“I know you meant well, Seanchai, but you might need to forget some of the civilities you learned in your village. Gorthan lost his entire family to the Emperor’s army. His forge was destroyed, along with tools that had been handed down through generations. Craftsmen like him measure their worth by their tools. It is just as well that he has no offspring. He would be so ashamed not to have any tools of worth to pass on.”
“I still don’t understand why I couldn’t ask him what happened.”
“Gorthan is our only blacksmith. Did you see his eyes? We need him to keep fixing and making weapons. We need him sober, and that’s more difficult when he’s dwelling on his past.
“The Emperor has destroyed our race and many others. This is why we need you, Seanchai.” She paused and smiled when she saw panic on his face. “Come, I shouldn’t burden you with more than a few supplies.”
Seanchai followed her for a few moments, thinking of Gorthan. Then he noticed what she was carrying.
“Who are those other knife sets for?” he asked.
“Your guide and your friend,” she replied with a smile.
“Rhoddan is coming with me?” He had doubted that Rhoddan would recover in time. “My friend?”
“Yes,” she replied. “And the other set is for your guide.”
“When will I meet him?” Rhoddan asked.
“You already have,” she replied and laughed. “And it’s not a he.”
They left before dawn, twelve in all–more than the three Seanchai was expecting–clad in identical gray hooded cloaks and carrying gray satchels carefully packed for balance and to keep food fresh for as long as possible. Their monotone matched the cloudy sky and the fog that hugged the ground.
They each led a mountain pony capable of taking its rider great distances without rest, and extremely adept at negotiating difficult mountain passes. Seanchai was perturbed. The only time he had ridden a horse was when he rescued Rhoddan and that was really just grimly clinging to the horse for a few moments, and he wasn’t convinced he could repeat even that. He dreaded the other elves discovering this, as they had apparently just assumed he could ride. For now, at least, his pony clopped along with no resistance. So far, so good. Even so, he felt his stomach muscles tighten.
Seanchai looked down the line at the identically dressed figures and he was sure it was intentional. With cowls covering their heads, only the most observant tracker would be able to distinguish them by size or weight. Was this to make Seanchai more difficult to identify? He couldn’t help feeling like a target.
“How are you doing?” Seanchai asked Rhoddan when they stopped to rest at a fork in the path. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have come. Maybe it’s too soon.” Seanchai had watched Rhoddan wince when he removed his pack and struggle to lift his water skin to drink.
“Actually, I doubt we could have stopped him,” said Ilana, drawing back her hood. “I hear he demanded to be included in the party, and there aren’t many who tell Uncle what to do.”
“So why did Uncle agree?” Seanchai asked.
“He has a talent for identifying strengths,” Ilana replied. “He probably saw something in Rhoddan that he thinks will help you along your way. I’m sure it had nothing to do with Rhoddan threatening to track you on his own if he wasn’t allowed to come along.” This last part she said with a grin.
“Extreme stubbornness is a good tool to have on a journey,” Seanchai laughed, “even if he is a wounded soul.”
“I’m fine,” Rhoddan said, sidestepping Ilana’s jab. “I just need to focus my energy on healing as well as walking.”
He sipped from a small hip flask and shuddered at the taste.
“What’s that?” Seanchai asked.
“It’s an herbal tonic–a strengthener,” Rhoddan explained. “The healer who prepared it purposely made it very concentrated so that it would last. Yuck. It’s so bitter. Now stop looking at me like that, or I’ll make you drink some.”
All three laughed at this, causing others close to them to turn and frown. Seanchai didn’t care. Being with Ilana and Rhoddan made him feel that he might be able to do whatever everyone seemed to expect of him because he wouldn’t have to do it alone.
Seanchai leaned closer to keep his voice down. “Can I help you at all?”
Rhoddan shook his head, but Ilana thought differently.
“Why not?” she asked. “Let him try.”
“Try what?” Seanchai asked as Rhoddan continued shaking his head.
“Maybe one night after we’ve set up camp,” Rhoddan conceded. “It’ll tire him and that might be dangerous while we travel.”
“Try what?” Seanchai asked again, impatience clear in his voice. “I amstanding here, you know.”
“Not now,” Rhoddan almost pleaded. “Not while we’re on the road. Let me be, please. I am a warrior, let me bear my pain.”
He turned away and Ilana nodded to Seanchai to comply. She picked up her pack and tightened some cords that had loosened. When Seanchai put his pack on, she stepped forward and tightened his cords, adjusting the whole way his pack sat on his back and it felt considerably more comfortable.
“Thank you,” he said and thought her smile shone through the grayness around them.
As the line moved off, three figures took the other fork in the path.
“Where are they going?” Seanchai asked.
“Decoys,” Ilana replied. “They will walk through the mountains for a few days. Once they’re certain they aren’t being followed, they’ll return to camp.”
“And if they are being followed?”
“They will keep heading westward to draw any spies away from us. We will soon swing north to the Snowdons.”
“How do we know spies will follow them and not us?” Seanchai asked.
Ilana shrugged. “We don’t. But they have to choose between four groups. Let’s hope they choose wrong.”
Over the next two days, as Ilana had mentioned, others broke off in groups of two or three. Finally, it was only the three of them left. Seanchai watched the last three leave them and then addressed Ilana.
“So … you’re my guide?”
“Yes,” she replied and Seanchai heard pride in her voice. “I have been trained for just such a mission.”
“And you’re my bodyguard?” Seanchai turned to Rhoddan.
Rhoddan shrugged. “I happen to have a few days with nothing to do.”
Seanchai put a hand on each of them. “I’m glad,” he said, and meant it.
When they stopped for the evening, Ilana showed Seanchai how to help Rhoddan heal using his hands. Seanchai had seen his mother doing this, but wasn’t sure what it was. Ilana explained.
“We can all channel energy into and through our bodies. Sometimes we can direct the excess to another person. Our healers believe that this energy comes from within. Others think we take it from our surroundings–like trees and plants, or animals. Parents lay hands on their children to soothe them. I reckon you have a greater ability than others to store and pass it on.
“Just follow my lead,” she continued. “But if you feel an instinct to do something different, then follow it. Learn to trust your intuition.”
With Rhoddan lying between them, Ilana and Seanchai settled on their knees, tucking their feet under. They put their palms on their own chests. Ilana began breathing more deeply.
“Imagine your breath coming in with energy from the trees and the forest and filling your stomach. Then exhale out through your chest in
to the palms of your hands.”
Seanchai imitated Ilana until he felt warmth gathering beneath his hands. He faced his palms to each other and allowed the heat to grow. Then he leaned over and put his hands on Rhoddan’s chest and stomach. The wounded elf was dozing and sighed deeply. Seanchai imagined his energy flowing into Rhoddan.
After they finished, Ilana and Seanchai rose together and quietly moved away so as to not wake up Rhoddan.
“I’ll guard first and then wake you,” she whispered. “If he does get up and feels better then he can switch with you. But it would be better if he sleeps all night.”
“Ilana, what is this energy?” Seanchai could still feel his hands tingling.
“It’s called ryku. It can heal, vitalize, and invigorate. It stimulates and strengthens the body’s own rejuvenating powers.”
“I really felt it, Ilana.”
“It is amazing,” she replied, and her eyes sparkled in delight. “I can’t wait for you to master it. We’ll be able to do great things together.”
Eight
Rhoddan’s condition visibly improved as the days passed. Seanchai was not sure whether to attribute it to the ryku energy work, the herbal drink, or simply Rhoddan’s stubborn desire to be useful. Rhoddan took charge of security, dividing the guard rotation into four shifts instead of three and guarding the two middle shifts himself so as to allow the others several uninterrupted hours of sleep.
“A warrior is trained to sleep for short periods of time,” he argued when Ilana expressed concern. “I know my limits and I’ll tell you if it becomes a problem. I won’t endanger the mission.”
“But you’ve been wounded,” she protested, her hands on her hips, a sign Seanchai was quickly recognizing as time to back down.
“I know my limits,” Rhoddan replied, “and I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”
Seanchai felt bad for Rhoddan but did not object too vigorously. The reality was that he, Seanchai, was having the hardest time physically. The longest hike Seanchai had taken before this was when he had fled his village, and fear, he realized, had proven a powerful energizer.
But without so much adrenaline now, his feet were sore and his back ached from climbing narrow mountain paths strewn with protruding stones. It was not safe to ride a horse, which could easily turn a leg. Not that he would have felt safe on a horse even on a flat grassy field. He also struggled to adjust to the high altitude’s thinning air, feeling perpetually short of breath.
The terrain was rocky and steep. All around him, Seanchai saw nothing but boulders, crags and mountaintops. He had the feeling that there was always a higher peak ahead of them, though the peaks were shrouded in fog, which made this impossible to discern.
Ilana’s knowledge of the terrain as a guide and tracker impressed Seanchai, though he had to admit that everything about her impressed him. She confidently led them as they changed paths and backtracked to obscure their tracks. Seanchai had learned not to question her after the first time.
“Hey Ilana,” he said. “We’re going backwards.”
“I know,” she replied.
“This track parallels the one we just took.”
“I know.”
“Well, that means we’re essentially going back the way we just came. We–”
“I know,” she hissed, wheeling around to face him with clenched fists digging into her hips. She glared at him and then abruptly turned back to the path.
“Err … Seanchai,” warned Rhoddan, “I think you should leave the directions to Ilana. She really is very good.”
“Oh I think she’s extremely competent. It’s just that–”
Ilana whirled around again, her hair whipping behind her. “Competent? Competent? I am…competent?”
“Well, what I mean is… Rhoddan, what do I mean?”
Rhoddan was having a hard time hiding his grin, but he made an effort. “I think you were just about to compliment Ilana on her brilliant backtracking tactics.”
“Err, that’s exactly what I wanted–”
Ilana stomped toward Seanchai with reddening cheeks and hands back on her hips. “Did it ever occur to you that we might be being followed and that retracing our steps could throw them off track?”
“No,” Seanchai replied, chagrined. He sighed. Ilana softened and punched him playfully on the arm.
“We’re going to get you to your teacher, Seanchai, but you’re going to have to learn to trust us.”
“Oh I do, I do,” he replied rather too quickly. Then, involuntarily, he glanced over his shoulder.
Ilana led them to a remote monastery of elves, dwarves, and humans who rigidly practiced meditation, physical exercises, deep breathing, and a very austere lifestyle. The monks were of the Kundzu Order.
When he saw the Kundzu Monastery an hour up the mountainside, Seanchai almost cheered. There would be a fire and warm food, a mat to sleep on, a roof, and other people guarding while they slept uninterrupted by guard duty.
As they neared the monastery gate, Ilana stopped and signaled to hide behind some nearby rocks. “There should be smoke coming from the chimneys and a flag on the post above the gate.”
“Maybe they’re meditating or something,” Seanchai offered. He was desperate for the comforts that had propelled him forward the last day.
“Then maybe you would like to join them?” A deep voice snarled behind him.
Seanchai swung round to find a thick broadsword inches from his face. A dozen burly soldiers materialized out of the shadows and surrounded the elves. Rhoddan reached for his long knife.
“Don’t,” said the soldier facing him. “Even if a mite like you could take me, there are archers itching to shoot you down. You wouldn’t even reach me.”
“Rhoddan, stand down,” said Ilana, her voice surprisingly calm.
“Keep your weapons sheathed and put your hands behind your heads. Good. Now, let’s go inside, shall we? Nice and quiet.”
The soldier barked to another to bring their horses and then turned towards the monastery. The surrounding walls were built of dark stones stacked about double Seanchai’s height, and covered with lichen. They entered through an archway that opened into a courtyard with huts on each side and a stable at the far end. They ended up in a large hall and, once inside, were instructed to remove their weapons and boots.
“My boots?” Seanchai objected and then saw Ilana roll her eyes. “What?”
“You’ll miss your boots more than your weapons?”
“We’re not too happy about it either,” a nearby guard snarled. “Judging from the stench, you haven’t washed in days.”
Seanchai glanced around and realized that all the soldiers were human. Elves traditionally shunned humans because they were known to be violent and unpredictable. Seanchai knew that once, elves, dwarves, and humans had lived together in harmony, but that was a long time ago. He had been brought up to fear humans, and right now he was petrified. The soldiers seemed so big and broad. They all had beards and long knotted hair.
Seanchai sat down on the floor of the main hall and looked around. There were long tables along one side of the room. On the other side, sacks of vegetables and grains were piled next to a big stone fireplace, where a heavy pot was hanging above a fire. In front of the fire was another long table with plates, spoons, and bread. At the end were cups and a barrel.
A huge man with a ruddy complexion and a potbelly that spilled over his trousers, stood behind the table serving a stew. He kept a careful eye on who took drinks. When all the soldiers had eaten, he called to the three elves.
“Come over here, you three. The Emperor probably doesn’t want us to starve you. This here is prime mountain goat. Its meat is dry and lean and tastes like rotting strands of rope. But the monks had dried vegetables and I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve.” Seanchai saw that he rubbed his ample belly, which quivered under his touch. “Come on. You might only be elves, but you’re kids, and kids are always hungry.”
Seanchai approached h
im and took a bowl. “Thank you,” he said as the big man raised a full ladle. “You’re very kind.”
The cook grinned and signaled to the other two. The three took their stew and retreated to their corner where they sat on the floor. Seanchai had only taken a few spoonfuls when a boot kicked his bowl across the room.
“Get up,” the man barked. “I am the sergeant here and you’ll obey everything I tell you. Tomorrow we march down this wretched mountain to the garrison at Galbrieth. What General Tarlach does with you, I don’t know and I don’t care.
“Don’t think of trying to escape. We have eighteen battle-hardened soldiers here. Three sixers. All of us hate elves and this mission. If you try anything,” he stared at Seanchai while pointing at Ilana, “your she-elf goes first. Understand?”
Seanchai nodded. This was the second time he had been addressed directly. They seemed to know that he was the one they wanted. Then he recalled what the cook had said; the Emperor apparently wanted him alive.
“You sleep in here and don’t leave the room. There will be guards at each door and along the walls outside. We know how to take care of ourselves.”
Seanchai nodded again. He didn’t doubt the officer. So he was surprised when he awoke in the morning to find all eighteen dead, a single black-feathered arrow protruding from each of their still bodies.
Nine
They crept through the monastery in disbelief. Rhoddan kept count of dead soldiers by retrieving the arrows from their bodies. When all but four of them were accounted for, Rhoddan suggested they return to the hall and retrieve their bags and weapons.
“Whoever did this might want to refill their quivers,” Rhoddan remarked with awe and fear.
Seanchai took an arrow from Rhoddan and examined it. It felt heavier than elf arrows, but perfectly balanced, and had tightly bound, black feathers.
