Wycaan Master: Book 01 - At The Walls Of Galbrieth

by Alon Shalev

  She pulled up some hair at the top of his head and he felt his neck straighten.

  “Ouch.”

  “Not bad. Now, breathe in through your nose and fill your stomach. When your stomach is full, contract those muscles and expel the air back out your nose.”

  Seanchai stood there with his eyes closed. He began to feel stable and that there was something very familiar about this position, though he had never tried these exercises.

  “Now,” Mhari said. “The last thing for this lesson is to imagine that when you breathe in, you are inhaling the air up through your feet, from the ground, like the tree is bringing up water from deep in the earth. It is the energy of the earth. Let it nourish you.”

  When Seanchai felt he was getting too tired, he opened his eyes. He was astonished to see that his hands were out in front of him, as though he was hugging a big ball. There was a warm vibration flowing through his body and when he looked at his master, also in stance, he saw a shimmering film surrounding her. Then he noticed the tree–and yes, he himself–were also encased in this light, this energy.

  He took a deep breath and stretched his cramped muscles.

  “Please, make us tea,” Mhari said. Though standing next to him, her voice sounded far away.

  Seanchai took the small pot down to the edge of the lake and filled it. On his way back, he watched Mhari standing by the tree. He could see her vibrant posture and that the deep creases on her face had disappeared. Mhari’s arms moved from her sides to in front of her, as though she were hugging the tree, and then rose as though they were holding a ball above her head. A few minutes later, she returned them to her sides with palms facing down before extending them in front of her as if holding a ball from underneath.

  Seanchai arranged the fire between three stones. He rested the pot of water on top of the stones and sat down. His teacher’s hands had now moved in front of her as though she was holding a ball from underneath, the ball resting against her stomach.

  “Come here, Seanchai,” she called softly.

  Seanchai rose and obeyed.

  “Put your hands between mine.”

  Mhari’s eyes were closed, her expression serene. Seanchai put his right hand between hers.

  “Aagh,” he yelled and yanked it back, cradling it under his left armpit and hopping about. His hand felt burned and there was a sharp tingling vibration coursing through his arm.

  “What the… What was that?” he cried out.

  Mhari opened her eyes and smiled. “That is what you have come here to learn,” she said. “That is what might just save the kingdom of Odessiya.”

  Twenty-Four

  Ilana and Shayth rode slowly down through the mountain range. She was still feeling weak and needed to rest frequently. Mhari had provided her with an herbal tonic to help speed her healing.

  They rode mostly in silence and she found herself glancing at Shayth and wondering what was going through his mind. She could see little beyond his cloak and hood, even when it wasn’t wrapped tightly around him.

  When they stopped to eat, he insisted she rest. He collected wood, brewed her tea and tended to both horses. When he finally sat down to eat she had already finished her food. She sipped her tea, staring at him over the rim of her steaming cup.

  “How about you look somewhere else?” he said, his own eyes focusing on the smoldering, charred wood.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I started this…this journey with all my focus on Seanchai. Rhoddan and he share a special friendship and he fitted easily into the picture. But you…”

  Her voice trailed off as she sank into her own thoughts. Shayth didn’t move or respond. She felt compelled to finish the sentence and struggled to find the appropriate words.

  “You’re different. It’s not just that you’re human. There are men in Uncle’s band, but you aren’t like them. They’re so much louder than elves and more freely express their emotions verbally and in their behavior. But I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. It’s…it’s disconcerting.”

  Shayth shifted, nudging a piece of blackened wood with his boot. Ilana continued. “It was easier when we were four, but now that it’s just the two of us, I find it very intense.”

  Shayth looked up. “Do you doubt my intentions? I will help you rescue Rhoddan. I would have done it without you if your wound had been worse. I’m not a human who looks down on elves. I’ve met some good and bad men–mostly bad. And I’ve met good and bad elves. I choose to try and free Rhoddan because he is good, regardless of whether he’s man or elf. Race is irrelevant.”

  “But we’re all strangers to you. How can we matter enough to you to do all this?”

  Shayth thought for a while. “I don’t know. We’ve talked about Seanchai. I’m drawn to him, as you all are. Rhoddan is honorable and brave. He’s quick in his mind as well as on his feet. I like him. And I know what they’ll do to him in Galbrieth. He’s too good for that.”

  They fell silent as Ilana finished her drink. Then she said: “You still haven’t told me anything about yourself. You trust me to fight alongside you and watch your back. But I know nothing about you.”

  He did not reply.

  “It’s just us, Shayth. There’s no one else to hear.”

  She looked at him, but he was staring behind her. “Yes, there is. We had better get going.”

  Shayth hesitated as they left the mountains about an hour before dusk. He surveyed the flat land ahead of them and then looked back at Ilana.

  “We might want to go back and camp for the night. It’ll be easier to defend ourselves there. We’re still a few hours from the forest.”

  “I can keep riding,” she said, her voice flat.

  “No, you can’t. If we need to fight or run, then you can’t be drained of energy.”

  Shayth had not seen or heard anyone even though he had doubled back a few times to check. But he remained convinced they were being followed.

  They turned their horses and found a cave a short way back the way they had come. It was not big enough for them and the horses, so Shayth took off the bags and saddles and laid out Ilana’s blankets for her. He left and moved the animals further along until they were out of sight and sound from Ilana. If anyone startled them, they might not give away the sleeping elfe.

  When Shayth returned, he was relieved to see that she had fallen asleep. No more questions for tonight. Taking his bow, he decided to check again if they were being followed. He climbed a rock and sat, motionless, scanning the area. Nothing.

  He was perturbed he could not see who was there. It was not a clumsy soldier for sure, but someone well-practiced in stealth.

  Shayth had a dilemma. Ilana needed to sleep as much as possible, but he didn’t think it was wise for him to guard all night and then ride all day. As he said to Ilana earlier, they couldn’t risk exhausting themselves.

  He settled down in between two rocks and wrapped his hood and cloak around his body. His bow lay across his knees, an arrow already nocked. If he stayed here, perhaps he would see them approaching down below. If he couldn’t take them down, then he could at least lead them away from Ilana.

  Shayth yawned and thought about the elfe. He had not known any human woman as tough as she was and as willing to live such a life. He was impressed at how she stoically coped with her wound, by her fighting abilities, and with her dedication to Seanchai. He yawned again and thought of her questions earlier in the day. She would not let up, he realized. But he could not tell her the truth, not if he wanted to stay with her, Rhoddan and Seanchai. And he did.

  He shook his head as he felt his eyelids droop. The next yawn was long and deep.

  Twenty-Five

  Seanchai yawned and forced his eyes open to a brightening sky. Hadn’t he only just fallen asleep? He rose with some effort. His training regime, particularly the standing exercises, was leaving him discovering muscles that weren’t happy being discovered.

  He stumbled over to the waterfall and leaned forward to le
t the cold water wake him up. He dressed and went to tend Snowmane. The horse was agitated and restless without the other horses or regular exercise.

  He nickered when Seanchai approached and pricked his ears as his rider spoke, complaining about the hour, his stiff limbs, not traveling with Ilana and Shayth, and more. Snowmane seemed very attentive until the elf sat down. The horse nudged the riding blanket and saddle that were next to it. When Seanchai shook his head, Snowmane neighed and turned away to graze.

  Seanchai started a fire for tea and settled down, waiting for the water to boil. Mhari was awake and meditating. Her hands rested in her lap and he marveled again at how her many facial lines diminished when she meditated.

  The young elf rose and assumed his own meditative stance. The five poses felt increasingly natural and had become easier to maintain. When he studied with Mhari, she would correct his stance or breathing, and instruct him in which pose to take and when to change. He liked it better when he stood alone, and allowed his body to guide him in slow, fluid movement.

  However, no matter what stance he took, or whether Mhari was watching or not, as soon as Seanchai began the meditative breathing, he now felt the warm vibration of energy rise from his feet and fill his stomach. Under instruction, he began to learn how to direct the energy through his body and into his hands. The feeling became more intense in his fingers and he even found that he began to crave it.

  As they ate breakfast, Seanchai turned to his teacher. “Snowmane is getting restless. He could do with a run and change of scenery.”

  “Good,” Mhari smiled. “Let’s take him for a ride.”

  A half hour later, Mhari was cheerfully perched upon a trotting Snowmane who was nickering while Seanchai jogged alongside them. Seanchai was not happy. Mhari and Snowmane had bonded and were enjoying having Seanchai run after them.

  “You must build your stamina and be able to sustain yourself through a fight at any time of day,” Mhari called from the saddle. “As you wield the energy, you will discover that it can be very draining. You cannot aim an arrow when you are breathing heavily, and you are more prone to make the wrong decision when exhausted.”

  Seanchai thought of Uncle’s instruction. Would he ever see the big elf again, or had he paid for playing his part in delivering Seanchai to the master? How many others have died for him? Was Rhoddan being tortured while Seanchai jogged alongside a lake? He hoped Shayth and Ilana were faring well on their journey and would return with Rhoddan safely.

  They reached a small wooded area that connected the lake and mountains. Mhari dismounted and whispered to Snowmane to rest. The grove of trees was humid compared to its arid surroundings.

  “This is a magical place,” said Mhari, admiring the trees and vines.

  “Magical? Really?”

  “No,” Mhari smiled. “At least, not magic of man or elf. But, you know, maybe it is magic…earth magic. Come, I want to show you something.”

  Mhari moved a cluster of ferns aside to reveal a knee-high plant with narrow leaves. She unhooked a trowel from her belt and dug carefully around the plant. Soon she was sweating.

  “Can I help?” Seanchai asked.

  “No. Thank you,” Mhari replied, stretching her back. “But watch carefully so you can do it next time.”

  It took at least forty minutes with Mhari working slowly and carefully. The plant’s tuberous root had four offshoots that Mhari was careful not to break. When she finally released the plant from the ground, she sat back heavily, the root lying across her lap.

  “It is truly beautiful, no, Seanchai?” She held it up. “I need to drink and rest. Please bring the water skin and use your fingers to gently rub the dirt from the root and shoots.”

  Seanchai cleaned the roots, thinking that, not long ago, he had helped his mother prepare herbal mixes the way she had learned from her mother. They had dried leaves and flowers in their house, and had even grown some plants for their roots, but this was different. This was far bigger and older than anything he had seen.

  He felt a wave of concern and longing for his mother that he fought to push from his mind. He glanced up and saw Mhari watching, concern in her eyes.

  “What is this root?” he asked, eager for distraction.

  “Well, what does it look like?”

  Holding the stems, Seanchai lifted the plant up. He laughed. “Why, it looks like an elf. Here are the legs, arms, and a body.” He pointed to the tip where the root met the stems. “This could be the head, but I can’t find the pointed ears.”

  Mhari laughed too. “He doesn’t need pointed or round ears. He is not symbolic of only one race. This is Danseng in man’s tongue. I believe the elves call it Janenseng, from the old tongue. I am sure the dwarves have a similar name, too, though I don’t know it.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It means Breath of Youth,” she replied, “or something thereabouts. It is a powerful herb that helps strengthen elders of all races as we try and stretch a couple more years out of life.

  “I believe it’s given to a male elf only when he is preparing to mate and create life. This is a rare plant, Seanchai. And the older the plant, the more potent it is. I think this one might be eight or ten years old.”

  “I’m not ready to mate,” Seanchai said, blushing, as he thought fleetingly of Ilana.

  Mhari laughed. “Good, because we don’t have the time.” She fingered around the base of the leaves. “Look,” she said, revealing split seedpods. “Never harvest a plant that does not have ripe seeds.”

  “Does that detract from the potency?”

  “No,” replied Mhari. She dug a small hole and planted the seeds, taking care not to touch them. “You should never harvest the root of a plant without giving back, preparing for its future. The earth could not sustain our plunder otherwise.”

  Mhari wrapped the root in burlap. “We’ll dry it before you leave and share the bounty.”

  She hugged the bundle. “Men went to war over such a root, over land where the danseng grew. Danseng gatherers made a lot of money from selling old roots to kings and lords. But they became greedy, as men often did, and now it is very difficult to find and keep an aged plant.”

  “Am I going to drink it?” Seanchai asked.

  “Yes. You will need it for the replenishment it provides after you’ve wielded the energy. This plant may end up being of great importance to you. Danseng and stamina will help you through the trials ahead.”

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Very bitter, Seanchai, but it has an immediate and startling effect. It can make your heart beat very fast. But if you’re to follow the path I think is before you, the danseng will be of great help. And you are going to need all the help you can get.”

  Twenty-Six

  Shayth’s pulse was racing. He had known they were being followed. How could he have let these men slip past him? He was foolish to think he could stay awake for the whole night. He peered around a rock and saw four men cornering Ilana, who crouched defensively with the rock face behind her.

  She had her long knife held in front, but the men had not drawn their own weapons.

  They were big, imposing men with shaggy hair and beards. Their clothes were thick layers of no recognizable style, and their weapons were primitive and looked to be old. Shayth was puzzled. These were not soldiers or scouts.

  One of them stepped forward and put his hand out to touch Ilana’s wounded arm. She pressed herself even tighter against the rock, and Shayth quietly strung his bow and took aim.

  A throaty tut came from behind, freezing him. Sitting on a rock just a few feet away was another man. Shayth stared at the man as he shook his head and held up his hands to show he wasn’t armed. Shayth slowly took the arrow from the bow and returned it to his quiver.

  The man nodded and stood, signaling for Shayth to follow him. They joined the others, and Shayth and Ilana were fascinated to discover they spoke with a series of clicks.

  The band parted, and the man
who had accompanied Shayth clicked and pointed to Ilana. Shayth seemed to understand what was being asked of him.

  “Ilana, it’s alright. I don’t think they’re a threat to us.”

  She rubbed her head and muttered, “I don’t do well being woken like that,” but she sheathed her long knife and forced a smile. The men relaxed and smiled back. The one who had reached for her wounded arm before stepped toward her and caressed it gently.

  He clicked to another and a conversation ensued. They headed back toward the main path, signaling the others to follow. The strangers took the horses’ reins and picked up all of Ilana and Shayth’s traveling gear. Shayth offered to carry a bag, but the man he addressed held out a hand, smiled, and shook his head.

  They walked out of the mountains and went west into the dry plains. Shayth worried that they were moving away from Galbrieth.

  Several hours later, they entered a camp that had been set up between two rock faces. Clearly they had been there awhile. There was a built fireplace with a drying area, where meat was being smoked and animal skins tanned. This looked like a hunting party, a very large hunting party. They were probably stalking herds that crossed the plain. Shayth struggled to think. He had heard of a nomadic people who clicked, but could not recall who they were. Still, he had a nagging feeling that there was something very important he should remember.

  He and Ilana were escorted to a fire pit and invited to sit. A youngster, with no facial hair, brought them water and some cooked meat on leaves.

  Then he crouched down and examined them, his head cocked to one side. Ilana had pushed back her hood to eat. The young man clicked and reached slowly with his hand to touch her left ear. She instinctively jerked her head back and an older man clicked what Shayth interpreted as a rebuke to the youngster, who began clicking in response and feeling his own round ears.