by Alon Shalev
“What about the other soldiers?” Ilana asked.
“They’re probably at the gate or wherever else they stand guard,” Rhoddan replied, keeping his voice low. “Maybe they’re chasing the people who did this.”
“Shouldn’t we try and find who did this?” Seanchai asked. “We need to thank them.”
Rhoddan grimaced. “Whoever pulled this off will decide when and where to introduce themselves.”
They retrieved their cloaks, weapons and packs from the main hall. Seanchai knelt over the dead cook who had had fed them He was staring lifelessly at the ceiling, a look of horror across his face. The young elf felt a wave of sympathy. The fat human had shown them kindness and Seanchai regretted his death. When he looked up, he saw Ilana watching him.
“There’re too many innocent victims,” Ilana said, joining him. “Had he not been conscripted he may well have been a jolly father at the head of a long table of happy, well-fed children.”
“He chose to serve in the army,” Rhoddan said without a hint of sympathy.
“He was conscripted,” Ilana snapped.
“So would I have been, and Seanchai too. We chose not to serve.”
Ilana glared at him. But before she could respond, Seanchai sighed loudly, bent over and gently closed the cook’s eyes. His voice was so despondent.
“Please don’t argue. He was kind when he didn’t have to be. We know nothing of what came before, of his struggles and sufferings. All we know is that he showed us gentleness when no one else did. I think that makes him different, and for that, I mourn his death.”
Rhoddan and Ilana both gaped at him. His distraught tone disarmed their anger and they silently nodded a truce to each other. Rhoddan packed some extra food into the packs as Ilana placed a hand on Seanchai’s shoulder.
“You’re right,” she said. “It becomes too easy to hate and then we’re no better than the worst of our enemies. You do well to remind us.”
She bent down and covered the cook’s face with an apron. “May the spirits of your ancestors receive you in love,” she said and then rose to help Rhoddan pack some extra food.
They slipped out of the monastery and retrieved their horses–which seemed to have been well taken care of–from the stables. The sergeant had clearly planned to travel in the morning. Rhoddan retrieved the arrows that had killed two more soldiers there. They found the last two bodies as they passed through the archway of the front gates.
“I guess we are free to go,” Rhoddan said.
They had barely left the monastery when Seanchai stopped and pointed at a figure on the rocks above them. They had to shield their eyes from the sun’s glare. The silhouette stood up and held his bow in the air.
“I think he’s trying to signal something,” Seanchai said.
“Rhoddan,” Ilana whispered, though the bowman couldn’t possibly hear her. “Put the arrows down there for him.”
Rhoddan made a show of piling the arrows onto a nearby rock and the figure waved them on. They continued at a brisk pace, feeling compelled to distance themselves from the soldiers, even though they would not be following. Ironically, they had slept well since they had no need for guard duty, and they had eaten a hot meal. Seanchai again thought of the cook. Would he ever get used to the killing? Did he want to?
The path through the mountains remained stony and uneven, with large walls of sullen brown rocks rising on either side of them. They contrasted with the east-facing mountainside, which was a bright warm red and sharply defined by the rising sun.
They rested in a cavern that protected them from the chilling wind after two hours of steep climbing. For a few minutes they sat in silence, adjusting their packs, retying boots, or in Seanchai’s case, just staring out at the mountain range in exhaustion.
“We should have taken some more supplies.” Ilana spoke first. “We don’t have enough to get us through our journey. There are no elf villages on our way, but we will need to buy supplies.”
“How will we pay?” Seanchai asked.
“Uncle has taken care of that,” Ilana replied, patting a leather bag she wore.
Seanchai stared pensively outside the cavern. “Is he out there, do you think?”
“Yeah,” replied Rhoddan. “Frankly, I’d be happy if he’s on the ledge above, watching out for us.”
“I don’t envy him out there in this wind,” Seanchai replied. “He’d be smarter coming inside.”
“Can I take that as an invitation?” The voice was so close it made them all jump. “Thanks for returning my arrows; the black ones are my favorites. A shame to waste them on such scum.”
Ilana was the first to recover, though Seanchai could feel her apprehension. “Please … come in. Thank you for saving us.”
The figure came inside and perched on a rock. He was wrapped in a black cloak and hood. He swept the hood back, revealing that he was a human, not much older than them. His long, spiky, jet-black hair was held back with a leather band in similar fashion to the elves. But it was his eyes that caught their attention. They were very dark, almost black–intense, and cold.
“A human?” Seanchai exclaimed. “Why did you save us?”
“Not all humans hate elves.” The stranger took a swig of water from a leather flask. “Some of us like and respect your race. I grew up hearing stories about men, elves–and dwarves, even, if you can believe it–once living together in harmony. It sounds like a better time, if it ever existed.”
“It did,” Seanchai said fervently, and then blushed at his own intensity. “I-I mean, it had to, if you get my meaning.”
The others nodded, though he wasn’t sure if they were just humoring him. He also wasn’t sure why he was becoming increasingly certain a better time had existed, and why it had begun to take on such immense importance to him. Humans had treated elves as an underclass ever since the great battles when the Emperor’s ancestors had seized control of Odessiya.
“Still,” Ilana continued. “That doesn’t really explain why you risked your life for us, taking down a dozen soldiers, or how you happened to be there.”
The stranger snorted. “Maybe I just hate them more. Anyway, there were eighteen, the officer, and that fat cook.”
Seanchai stiffened. Ilana probably noticed as she quickly continued the conversation. “But why?” she asked again.
He sighed and rubbed his spiky hair. “The why is for another time. But the how … I saw that you were about my age and it piqued my interest. I’ve been tracking you for a few days, and knew by the way you kept backtracking that you were either on an important mission or really, really lost.”
The stranger grinned and Seanchai laughed before withering under Ilana’s glare.
The human continued. “You can pick up supplies in Tripath. It’s two days’ walk from here, though most of that is descending from the mountain range.”
“Is that a human town?” Ilana asked.
“Yes. It used to be a small trading post but has grown very quickly over the last few years.”
“I’m not sure a group of elves should just walk in.” Ilana was fiddling absentmindedly with her hair, which Seanchai now interpreted as a nervous trait. “We need to stay as anonymous as possible.”
“I can help you with that,” the stranger said. “Where are you heading from there?”
His question was met by silence. The story they had rehearsed seemed disrespectful, given what this stranger had just done for them, but they still feared revealing the truth. Seanchai, actually, realized that he didn’t know where, and that if anything were to happen to his companions, he would have no idea how to continue. He decided to ask Ilana when they were next alone.
“You don’t have to tell me,” the young human said. “I understand. But I need to know how many days you will need supplies for.”
“We’re traveling in search of a teacher,” said Seanchai, breaking the silence. “We are to study with him to become healers.”
“Really?” the stranger turned his
dark eyes on Seanchai.
“No,” Seanchai met his gaze and responded without hesitation. “But it’s the best I can do for now.”
“Very well. I understand.”
“What’s your name?” Ilana asked.
“Shayth,” he replied. “It means ‘the darkest shade of black’.”
“Really? Shayth is your name?”
“Yes. As far as I remember, at least.”
“Your family?” Ilana continued.
Shayth shook his head. “That’s the best I can do for now.” He smiled and the elves breathed a collective sigh.
“Well, Shayth,” Seanchai said and offered his hand. “Thank you for saving us at the monastery. Whatever your motivation, it is gratefully received.”
Shayth now walked with them. He rarely spoke, but continually scanned their surroundings to determine if they were being followed. Seanchai realized that this was a well-practiced behavior.
“You’re on the run, aren’t you?” Seanchai blurted as the thought occurred to him.
Shayth nodded.
“For how long?”
“This is not the time,” said Shayth. “Drop it.”
But Rhoddan blocked Shayth’s path. “It is the time. You might be endangering our mission.” His voice was firm.
“Mission?” Shayth smiled.
“I mean journey.”
Shayth rolled his eyes, making sure Rhoddan knew he didn’t appreciate the questions. “Half the kingdom is chasing you, right?”
Seanchai saw his friends nod.
“Well, half the kingdom is probably after me too. Let’s just hope it’s the same half. Look. He pointed to thin pillars of smoke.
“Tripath?” Ilana asked.
“Dinner,” Shayth replied.
Ten
Rhoddan was nervous and skeptical about accompanying Shayth into town, but necessity dictated that they buy food, so they had no choice. Tripath sat, as its name suggested, at the junction of three main roads. It had flourished as a trading town far away from the Emperor’s gaze, it had also earned a reputation as a center for shady business. Traders sold their wares in the vibrant marketplace and were promptly tempted to part with their money in the surrounding drinking or gambling establishments.
Shayth and Rhoddan wore their hoods closely over their heads. Shayth had told Rhoddan that elves were tolerated in this town because of their economic contribution, but would not be welcomed in the bars or back alleys. Rhoddan noticed how other elves on the road walked with their heads bowed, trying to avoid drawing attention. He mimicked their gaits.
They were prepared for the rough and ready populace and to keep a low profile, but by the way Shayth jerked upright at the sight, he was clearly not expecting military checkpoints.
“This is new,” Shayth whispered to Rhoddan. “I’m not sure whether they’re searching for someone or just levying a toll for the Emperor.” He looked around at the people waiting to pass through the checkpoint. “I have an idea. Follow me and don’t say a word.”
They joined the traders waiting in line to pass, taking position just behind a farmer whose mule pulled a wagon stacked precariously with small cages, all carrying squawking hens.
Just as the farmer approached the sentry, Shayth stepped forward and, with a small knife concealed in his sleeve, sliced through a piece of rope that was barely holding the stacked cages, sending them scattering. Immediately, he began scrambling to collect the squawking birds, yelling apologies to his ‘father’–the farmer–and hailing insults down on Rhoddan.
“You clumsy elf,” he yelled. “Father told you several times to make sure these were tied well. Don’t just stand there, you idiot–help me. Sorry father, we’ve got them. You’ll pay for your incompetence, you dumb elf. Mark my words. I’ll ring those ugly, pointed ears of yours, so help me.”
The farmer, an old, bent man, looked on, too stunned to speak. The soldiers began yelling at him for holding up the, forcing him to find his voice and begin stuttering apologies. With the cart precariously restacked, and Rhoddan and Shayth holding the cages, Shayth slapped the mule and it lumbered through the checkpoint. The exasperated soldiers let them go, as both the farmer and Shayth apologized profusely.
Once through the checkpoint and safely inside the town walls, Shayth passed the still-unsecured rope to the bewildered farmer.
“You really should double-check these knots every few miles.” He patted the old man on the shoulder, grabbed Rhoddan’s arm, and disappeared into the crowd in search of the supplies they needed.
Back at camp, Rhoddan told the others how well Shayth must have bartered and haggled, for their money seemed to stretch an impressively long way. He harbored a few doubts, but kept them to himself. They ate heartily and prepared for bed.
Before they went to sleep, Shayth addressed the elves. “You’ll need to decide your direction in the morning, if you haven’t already. You don’t have to tell me anything, but you should know I might deduce things as we walk. I know the land very well. You should decide whether or not you want me to accompany you.”
“Let’s talk more in the morning,” Ilana said, nodding at Seanchai, who was already half-asleep, and soon everyone was out except Shayth, who stood guard, staring out into the darkness, deep in thought.
When they woke just after dawn, Shayth allow them some space so they could discuss whether he should join them the rest of the way.
“He’s extremely useful,” Rhoddan admitted. “He can fight. He knows the country and how to deal with other humans. He’s also a valuable source for food. But he’s on the run himself. He might be a murderer, thief, or traitor. I worried about letting him guard while we slept.”
“He’s very bitter and closed,” added Ilana. “I think we’ll find him unpredictable. We’re all very committed to each other, and he doesn’t share that commitment. Poor human. He’s been on his own for way too long.”
Then Ilana looked at Seanchai. “What does your instinct tell you?”
“I don’t know,” he said without thinking.
“Seanchai,” Rhoddan said. “Remember when we couldn’t decide whether to cross the plain the night before we met up with Uncle?”
Seanchai immediately shook his head in protest. “I don’t know what I did. Uncle called it scrying.”
“Maybe you don’t understand it, but it worked,” Rhoddan argued, “and we trust you, even if you don’t trust yourself yet.”
Seanchai nodded and tried to clear his mind as he looked at Shayth, recalling what he had done when Rhoddan had pushed him to decide about crossing the plain. He thought he could feel the bitter young man, his anger and hostility. He felt himself reaching out…
Shayth whirled round and raged, “Stop that! You don’t have my consent!”
Ilana, looking from one to the other, shook Seanchai. “Seanchai! Seanchai! What’s happening?”
Seanchai gasped and blinked rapidly, shaking his head. Tears welled in his eyes. “Wh-what was I doing?” he stammered.
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “I think you entered his mind, or at least attempted to.”
“What? I didn’t…”
“Seanchai,” Ilana put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “You just need to decide. Trust your judgment.”
Seanchai rose and started toward Shayth, rubbing his forehead. He felt the dull scrying headache growing. Shayth was already standing up, his fists clenched and his eyes black as his name. Seanchai held up his hands, palms out, in the universal sign of surrender.
“You had no right to try that,” Shayth yelled. “What do you take me for? After what I’ve done for you, why...” He trailed off. “You had no right,” he repeated, now more sullen than angry.
“I don’t know what I did,” said Seanchai earnestly. “Ilana told me to use my instinct and this just started to happen. I don’t control it or even understand it. That’s why we’re going where we’re going, so that I might learn from one who understands and can teach me how to use and chann
el this power I possess. And it’s why I am being chased.
“I don’t know what my role is in this messed up world. But there seem to be a lot of people who fear me, and far too many who are willing to lay down their lives to ensure I survive. I have apparently even caught the Emperor’s attention. I appear to be very important, and this terrifies me. A few weeks ago, I was a simple villager hunting, fishing, playing pranks, and chatting up young elfes.”
Seanchai’s voice cracked. “A few weeks ago I had a community and a family. Now I doubt they’re even alive, condemned to die maybe for the crime of sheltering me. I’m afraid, Shayth. I’m in way over my head. I need friends I can trust, and I need to find this teacher. I want you to come with us but you need to know what you’re getting into.”
Shayth had been watching Seanchai closely as he spoke. Now he rubbed his spiky hair back and forth a few times. Finally, he cleared his throat. When he spoke, Shayth’s voice was soft for the first time since they had met.
“I will help you find your teacher, Seanchai, if that is your request. I offer you my allegiance and my loyalty until then.” Shayth’s voice abruptly became harsh. “But don’t ask me to stop hating, and don’t ever stop me from killing. This is how I live. And don’t ever scry my mind without my permission, or I will kill you.” He paused and looked away for a moment. Then he turned back and grinned. “Other than that, I’m happy to help.”
He and Seanchai grasped each other’s forearms firmly in the custom of Odessiya. Their eyes were still locked.
“Thank you,” said Seanchai, shakily. “Thank you. I don’t have many friends.”
Shayth withdrew his hand. “I never said anything about being your friend.”
Seanchai blinked, but then saw Shayth was smiling. Seanchai smiled back, for the first time in quite a while.
Eleven
When they were ready to leave, Shayth suggested the elves ride since they would be following well-traveled roads rather than mountain paths.
