by Alon Shalev
Nineteen
There was no sophisticated plan, no riding formation. They rode in an exhausted daze, tense and silent. Ilana had drilled Seanchai with final instructions for this part of the journey and he found himself recognizing landmarks that she had mentioned.
The mountain path continued to ascend toward a deep blue sky without a cloud to be seen. It was beautiful, but Seanchai was fed up with rocks, even these smooth beige ones. He missed the forest, the trees, and the smell of mulch and moss–everything he had taken for granted growing up.
He was also painfully aware of the danger they were in and kept thinking of Rhoddan incarcerated. Seanchai had no doubt that elves were treated far worse than men were by the human guards, and probably even more so by pictorians. He was also worried that Rhoddan might impersonate him and therefore suffer all the more once they broke him.
“Get ready,” Shayth hissed. Suddenly an arrow whizzed past. Shayth swore behind him and Ilana leaned down close to her horse’s neck. Seanchai copied her.
“Go Night, go,” she yelled and her horse instantly sprung forward.
Snowmane took off after them, jerking Seanchai backwards with the sudden acceleration. The trail curved around a bend where two riders waited for them, blocking the path. Night whinnied, lowered her head and charged between them, opening the way for Snowmane to follow.
The thunder of the warhorses’ hooves behind them echoed off the rocks, and the winding trail narrowed, sheer, smooth rock formations rising on either side. The ground was littered with small rocks, preventing a full gallop from the horses, though the experienced cavalry was slowly closing the distance between them.
They came to the fork in the trail by the three trees, and Ilana dove to the right. Seanchai followed her, but Shayth continuing straight to force the soldiers to split up or hesitate while they decided which of them to follow.
Ilana and Seanchai rounded another bend, and the path rose. They crested the hill and looked down onto the lake. It was sparkling and beautiful, but now would have to serve as a battleground.
They reached the water’s edge with the soldiers close behind and Ilana frantic. “I never planned we would arrive being chased. I don’t know where to go and with the ground leveling out, the cavalry horses will be faster than ours.”
She looked around and pointed. She led Seanchai toward a narrow trail leading away from the lake. They snaked along the tight path for a minute before coming to a halt at an eighty-foot tall rock wall. They had ridden into a dead end.
“Seanchai,” Ilana’s voice shook. “Start climbing. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”
“Don’t bother,” he said as he drew his knives. For once she didn’t try to argue. Seanchai felt the intensity in his own expression and a surge of confidence and energy welled up inside him. Then he turned and saw a tear rolling down Ilana’s face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Seanchai,” she whispered, “I don’t want you to escape and leave me. No matter how important this mission, I don’t want us to...” She gulped. “I have failed–failed our people, failed the land of Odessiya, and I have failed as your guide.”
She took a deep breath, turned toward the path, and drew her knives. “Seanchai?”
“Yes?”
“You afraid?”
“Yes, but less than I expected.” He was actually surprised at how calm he felt.
“Seanchai?”
“Yes?”
She couldn’t get out the words she wanted to say.
“I know,” he said. “Me, too. I’ve felt it for while now. And never think you failed me. No one else, not even Rhoddan, has given me what you have.”
She looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. His gaze, however, was firm and looking ahead to where the solders would momentarily come into view.
“Your faith and belief in me has made me believe, too,” he continued. “Even if this is the end, I will die believing in my own self-worth. And we will go down together. That also helps.”
Into the canyon rode eight armor-clad soldiers on massive horses. The steeds also wore armor and panted clouds of steam. The soldiers assembled in line blocking the trail opening where Seanchai and Ilana would need to exit.
One soldier edged his horse forward. “I think we can agree that we have you trapped,” he called to them. “Come peacefully and I guarantee you’ll be treated well until we reach the garrison.”
“And then what happens?” Ilana edged Night slightly forward.
“And then I hand you over to my superiors. I can’t vouch for what they’ll do to you.”
“That’s very honest of you,” said Seanchai pleasantly, trotting forward next to Ilana.
The soldier eyed him, his face muscles tense. “We just want to avoid any trouble.”
“Well, we don’t want any trouble, either,” replied Seanchai smiling as though they were discussing the weather or crop rotation. “So how about we allow you to turn around and trot along back to your garrison.”
“There are eight of us, elf, in case you haven’t noticed. Eight experienced warriors. And you are only two elves–young ones, at that.”
Seanchai didn’t flinch. “I had noticed. I have also noticed that there were considerably more of you before you began this mission. And I doubt you can work for a tyrant and call yourselves warriors. Soldiers, maybe. Mercenaries and conscripts, most likely. But please, not warriors. A warrior serves a noble cause, not a despotic ruler.”
Seanchai’s confident detachment obviously unsettled the officer. But he checked himself and decided that he still just saw two young elves against his trained cavalry line.
He lifted his sword and waited, challenging Seanchai. The elf, however, sheathed his knife and faced his palms out, summoning his power with words he didn’t even know he was speaking. The officer’s sword began its downward stroke and froze midway. His eyes bulged and he gasped for breath, his sword clattering to the ground with him. At the same time, two of his men jerked forward and fell, white-feathered arrows protruding from their backs.
A figure stood behind them, crouched, ready to spring. He wore a sandy cloak with a hood that covered his face. His long staff struck quickly at two soldiers who charged, sending them tumbling from their horses and the horses galloping out of the canyon.
Ilana and Seanchai charged forward while the troops were distracted, stabbing at the soldiers’ chain mail, looking for a place to pierce.
Meanwhile, the hooded figure sent two more soldiers flying from their horses, crumpled all four dismounted men with his staff. Seanchai though he glimpsed steel being thrown as another soldier crumpled from his horse. Their rescuer then turned on and dispatched the soldiers fighting Seanchai and Ilana. He showed no mercy, and those who fell lay still.
Ilana dismounted from her horse, gasping with pain. She crouched on one knee and held her arm; a slash in her sleeve was beginning to redden.
“Show me.” He tore a strip of cloth to tie off the wound.
A scrape behind them revealed a soldier who had survived and crawled onto a horse.
“He’s getting away!” cried Seanchai.
Their new battle companion spun round and extended his palm in a way Seanchai now recognized. The soldier and his horse smashed into the rock wall with a sickening crunch. When they hit the ground, the soldier was still but the horse kicked in pain. Approaching the stallion with caution, the man tried to touch it, but the horse was hysterical from pain. The figure again offered his palm and the horse stilled.
“We must leave. Can you walk, elfling?”
Ilana nodded and the warrior turned to Seanchai.
“Check that they all stay dead this time. Then collect my bow and arrows from that rock. After that, please bring both your horses and follow me. I will help your friend. We shouldn’t tarry. We’ve had enough exercise for today.”
Twenty
The hooded stranger erased the tracks behind them once they had returned to the main path. A thin palm
protruded from the cloak and a swift wrist movement moved sand and gravel over their footprints. This was repeated this every fifty yards or so.
“I value my privacy,” he declared.
“Why did you come to help us?” Seanchai asked.
“I know who you are.”
“Are you my teacher?”
“Maybe. In nobler times the student petitioned to study with the teacher, not demanded it.”
Seanchai lowered his head. “How should I address you?”
“My name is Mhari. But introductions can wait. Let’s get out of here.”
Seanchai wished he could see Mhari’s face, that he would pull back his sandy cowl and reveal himself, but he didn’t. They walked for a while in silence, leading the horses. When Ilana began to feel weak, she mounted Night and held on doggedly to the reins.
Suddenly, Mhari stopped and looked slowly around.
“I suggest you come out. If I must come after you, you will die. I have killed enough for one day. And please, loosen your bowstring. I assure you, I am quicker than your arrow.”
A shadow rose on the rock face to their left.
“Is he with you?” Mhari asked, looking at Shayth.
“Yes!” replied Seanchai, thrilled to see his friend. “I can vouch for him.”
“Vouch for him!” A sharp bark of laughter came from the hood. “Can you even vouch for yourself?” The figure turned back to Shayth. “Come down here.”
Shayth hopped down from the rocks, scowling no doubt because he had been discovered despite his skill at stealth. But when he saw Ilana on her horse, he forgot his pride and immediately went to her. “Are you okay?”
Ilana nodded but didn’t speak.
“She looks pale,” Shayth said to Mhari.
“She’s an elf. They’re generally pale. But she’s lost blood and needs rest. Bring up the rear, please. Mask our way if you know how.”
They’re all pale? Seanchai always assumed that his teacher would be an elf, not a human.
“Rest here and keep an eye on the elfe,” Mhari said a bit later. “I want to check we aren’t being shadowed.”
Seanchai went to Ilana and leaned against her leg. He could feel the heavy breathing of her horse. “I’m sorry about shouting at you before. I was just upset about Rhoddan being caught.”
Ilana’s only response was a slight nod. She rested her head on Night’s mane and closed her eyes.
“We’re alone, as far as I can see,” Mhari said when he returned. “Come, we’re close to my castle.” A laugh came from the cowl, but cut off when Ilana began to fall from her saddle. Mhari moved with lightning speed to catch her, causing the hood to fall and reveal an old woman’s face.
So. Not only was Mhari human, but also a female. Yet she looked like no human Seanchai had ever seen. Her shiny, straight white hair was tightly tied behind and this accentuated her slanted eyes; high cheekbones; and a tanned, leathery face. Seanchai was so absorbed in his teacher’s appearance that he failed to notice she was now looking at him.
“When you’ve finished gaping, could you please help me with your friend?”
Seanchai shot forward and together they disentangled Ilana from her saddle. Night whinnied. The woman took Ilana in her arms and spoke to the mare. “She’ll be fine, my friend. Don’t worry.”
Shayth offered to carry Ilana, but Mhari shook her head. “The horse knows you. Better you lead it. We are here.”
They moved through a tight gap between tall rocks that would be easy to miss. The horses were not too enthused with being herded down the narrow path. Shayth told Seanchai that mountain elf horses were very brave and Seanchai got the distinct feeling that Shayth was really speaking for the benefit of the horses.
The path opened into a circle surrounded by sheer cliffs with caverns interspersed. Large rocks jutted out of the sandy floor. Mhari lay Ilana down on a large bed of straw near a cavern. Ilana grimaced as Mhari washed and dressed her wound.
“You are a tough one,” Mhari smiled at her before addressing Shayth. “Lead the horses over there to graze on the reeds after you unsaddle and groom them.”
Shayth left to complete his task while Mhari lit a fire under a rock.
“Won’t the smoke reveal our camp?” Seanchai asked. He had learned well from their long journey.
“There is a natural chimney that threads through the rock,” she replied without looking up. “The smoke will be released above the rock faces, not anywhere near here. Now, please go help your friend with the horses. He is also tired.”
Seanchai tended to Snowmane, taking note of a trickling waterfall nearby. A water-carved channel guided the water toward where the horses stood.
At length, Mhari called them over to eat around the fire. She ladled a thick soup into bowls that Seanchai had retrieved from their packs.
“You will have to excuse me for not having any utensils save for my own; I so rarely entertain.” She cackled at her own joke.
Mhari took a third bowl over to Ilana, tenderly waking her and encouraging her to sit up and drink the soup. Seanchai noted the woman’s tenderness, as Ilana both laughed and winced.
When she returned, Mhari busied herself gathering ingredients for and making an herbal tea. She kept going into the cave next to the cooking area, bringing out herbs, roots. or a sliver of bark. She constantly fussed over the pot and Seanchai realized that she had not eaten. Seanchai ladled out a bowl of soup and offered it to his teacher.
“Thank you, but I’ll eat after this is ready. It mustn’t boil, and it takes time to brew when there is bark and roots.”
“I can do that,” Seanchai persisted.
“Do you understand herbs?”
“A bit. Actually, I started to apprentice in my village. Let me stir it. You can watch while you eat.”
Mhari passed the spoon and smiled. “I am hungry. Thank you.”
Seanchai tended to the tea while Mhari sat close by, sipping her soup and observing him.
“Are we going to talk?” Seanchai asked.
“No, not tonight. We’re both very tired. Take it off the fire and bring some tea to Ilana.”
Ilana had fallen asleep again. She smiled as he woke her and helped her sit up.
“My special recipe,” he quipped when she grimaced at the taste.
“I got you here,” she boasted between sips. “I got you to your teacher.”
“You did. Thank you.” They gazed at each other and Seanchai smudged away the single tear trailing down her cheek. She took his hand and held it to her chest, wordlessly conveying her love and gratitude in a universal gesture he understood at once. Seanchai enjoying the feeling of her heart beating and the flood of his own emotions.
“Your teacher is a woman,” Ilana said. “Surprised?”
“At first,” Seanchai admitted, “but so is my guide and she has proven to be both brave and… competent.”
Ilana laughed and winced simultaneously. She drank half of her herbal tea and then lay down again, still clutching Seanchai’s hand. He waited until her breathing told him that she was asleep before he withdrew it and went to talk to Mhari.
But the old woman had no desire to talk, content instead to puff languidly on the pipe she had lit. The pipe’s stem was long and bent, with carvings around the bowl. It was a dwarf’s pipe, Seanchai thought.
Shayth sat next to her, struggling in vain to stay awake. She signaled to Seanchai with her head.
“Go to sleep, Shayth,” Seanchai said. “You’ve had a long day.”
“You should both sleep near the elfe in case she needs help,” Mhari said. “I sleep in there, but wake me if she needs anything.”
Shayth nodded and rose, his muscles stiff. He checked on the horses before taking his pack and spreading it near to Ilana. Mhari’s eyes followed him and when she spoke to Seanchai, she kept her voice very low.
“How well do you know this boy, Shayth?”
Seanchai shook his head and recounted what little he had gleaned. His teacher li
stened carefully and nodded. “He carries a heavy load, too great a weight for such a young man.”
Twenty-One
When Seanchai woke the next morning, cold and cramped, he was surprised to find Ilana out of her bedding. He sat up, yawned, and found her crouched near the fire, hugging a steaming cup of tea and in deep discussion with Mhari. Shayth was still asleep, so Seanchai lay back down, content to doze.
It took the smell of food frying to get him up. He went to the waterfall and stuck his head under the spray. It was freezing and he let out a startled cry. The others laughed.
“Lesson number one, my student,” Mhari called out. “Know what you’re sticking your head into before you commit.”
“Oh, I’m learning that one,” Seanchai retorted.
Ilana handed Seanchai a bowl of hot, sweet broth when he joined them by the fire pit. He cupped his hands around the bowl and listened to Ilana explain developments in the wider world information that Uncle might have wanted passed on, he thought.
Seanchai took the opportunity to observe his teacher and her uncommon appearance. The woman’s long, straight, white-gray hair now hung freely down around her shoulders. Mhari’s skin was tanned and crinkled; the sun had not been kind. But it was her slanted eyes that had surprised Seanchai when he had first seen the woman’s face. He could still see the woman’s pupils and whites, but her eye structure was narrower than any human or elf that Seanchai had ever met.
He surmised that Mhari must have been born in a land far away and wondered how old she was. She caught him staring.
“I know you’re the one who has come to learn,” she said. “I saw what you did to the officer yesterday, and I can sense your power. But I do not know your name.”
“Seanchai.”
Mhari nodded. “Really? That is an apt name. It means ‘storyteller’ in the elf language and is an ancient name. Storytellers were important members of their villages, held in high esteem.”
“You speak our ancient language?” Seanchai was surprised. Most elves today had not learned the language–certainly no humans. In his experience, it was considered an unkind reminder of a noble past and those who tried to revive it were often frowned upon. His own mother had learned the language when she had studied to become a healer and had taught him many words.
