by Alon Shalev
He continued until his head was submerged. Underwater, all he could hear was his own breathing. He felt truly alone and was acutely aware of each breath. He closed his eyes and focused on the water flowing through his body. It was not choking him and tasted metallic from the minerals in the rocks. As the pressure built around him, he realized the water felt considerably denser than normal lake water, and he no longer felt too cold.
Focus, he thought. Concentrate on taking one step at a time. He planted his right foot on the bed of the lake, deliberately digging his toes into the sandy gravel. Then his left foot: a rhythm, a reason. He thought of his parents; of Mhari, Shayth and Rhoddan; and then an image of Ilana the morning she and Shayth had departed. There were many reasons to continue, many reasons to succeed.
Seanchai continued until he felt the stalactite directly above him. He planted his feet in the gravel and began his exercises. Within moments he felt the energy enter his body and begin to circulate. But this time, it came not only from his feet, but also through the top of his head. Its familiarity helped to calm him and warmed his body.
All at once a blinding white light engulfed him. He felt totally consumed by it and at the same time sure it came from within his body. It felt as though his insides were churning. The water swirled in front of him and a portal opened through which he saw images of mountains, lakes, desert, forest, and ocean.
Herds of animals raced past him: white horses; brown humpers from the desert; and the big, horned gray beasts from his dream the previous night. Flying above his head were shining dragons, giant eagles, and ospreys large enough to carry a small elf.
Rows of wood elves marched past alongside bigger, dark-skinned elves in white cloaks. Next came human men of all types: white with blond hair and blue eyes, black with large muscles, wild men from the north with beards. Seanchai saw those with slanted eyes like Mhari had, as well as the aqua green-skinned men. Behind them came dwarves, stout with long beards and fine metal buckles on their belts. Seanchai gasped as huge rock-like creatures thundered past. They were twice as big as a grown elf and after them came even bigger creatures seemingly made of red clay, with massive limbs and dull red eyes. Finally, rows upon rows of pictorians marched with huge axes, shinning armor, their horns gleaming in the light.
Seanchai strode forward, watching playful dolphins and huge whales. Large ships sailed past him. He walked on, past great war towers on wheels with turrets and flags. He saw farms, villages, towns and cities. He passed huge stone castles and fortresses, all with banners flying proudly in the wind.
Seanchai transported into a room full of all sorts of bladed weapons: ornately carved knives, jewel-encrusted axes, and every size and shape of sword he could imagine. There were beautifully crafted bows, pikes, lances, and spears of great elegance. On the wall were shields, helmets and chain mail of all kinds.
It all gradually faded except for a pair of thin handled swords with black blades engraved with runes and intricate symbols. Seanchai examined them with wonder. He had never seen such swords, and yet they looked so familiar.
Every time Seanchai stretched out to touch them, they floated out of his reach. But he doggedly followed, convinced these were meant for him. He entered a large hall where the swords hung on the far wall. He felt he had arrived at a crossroads. If he crossed the hall and took the swords off the wall, there would be no turning back. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, strode forward, and reached up.
The young elf held a sword in each hand. He felt the perfect balance of the blades and slowly swung one in an arc, and then the other. There was a whoosh from each as though they were cutting through air rather than water.
Seanchai reached back to the wall and took the swords’ double sheaths as the room began to fade. He swung it over his shoulders as the room disappeared and he once again stood on the bed of the lake, testing the swords.
Seanchai only possessed rudimentary knowledge of swords, yet he moved his new weapons smoothly. They had become as one, he and the swords. He was exhilarated at the fluency and energy. Somewhat reluctantly, he sheathed the swords. They were a part of him now. Perhaps they had always been so.
Seanchai moved beneath the stalactite, and a beam of white light engulfed him. His body lifted off the lake floor, stretching and contracting. He lifted his face in the light, and a burning sensation reverberated through his body. Seanchai screamed with pain.
Slowly he drifted down to the bed of the lake, where he fell to his knees, utterly exhausted. He knew he needed to stay awake and leave the water, but his desire to rest was strong.
From far away, the voice of his teacher called him. “Come, Seanchai. You cannot stay in the lake. You must leave the water. Come to me again and finish your training. Seanchai. Come to me.”
Seanchai forced himself to stand. Step by heavy step, he began to walk, shoulders sagging from fatigue and the weight of expectation. He plodded along, Mhari’s voice in his ear. He needed to focus. Left foot, right foot, left, right, Ilana, right, Shayth, right, Rhoddan, right, Mhari, right, left, right, Ilana, Ilana, Ilana…
As Seanchai emerged from the lake, he found Mhari, usually so composed, staring with her mouth open. Seanchai dragged his body to his bedroll and collapsed onto it. Void of support from the water, he felt so heavy, so weary. He was vaguely aware of his teacher holding his head up, forcing him to drink the hot tea, and the words Mhari kept repeating: “Seanchai. Seanchai. What have you become?”
Thirty-Two
It was getting warmer as Shayth, Ilana and the desert people entered the Vale of Galbrieth, a narrow valley of farmland. Cows and sheep grazed in fields edged with fences or untidy hedges.
They passed families; men on their way to work; and creaky wagons packed precariously with food and livestock. People furtively got out of their way and kept their eyes on the ground, determined to avoid any kind of contact. No one stopped them or asked questions. Fear and intimidation permeated the air all around them.
Shayth’s big bow, intense black eyes, and shabby clothes were enough to get him the service he required when they stopped for supplies without any discussions. The one time he tried to get some information, the shopkeeper refused to talk to him and retreated hastily to the back of his shop as soon as he had received his money for the goods that Shayth had purchased.
As the valley stretched out, so did the frequency of hamlets and villages. Shortly after leaving one such village, Shayth pulled off the road and moved under some trees. He dismounted from his horse and the others followed suit.
“I’m going on a bit to check something. I’ll be back soon.” He made a series of hand gestures to the Tutans that seemed to get his message across.
Shayth returned to the road and walked around a long bend. He stopped a stone’s throw from a checkpoint with barricades across the width of the road. Behind one was a small hut. Shayth counted four guards on post and assumed there were more resting in the hut. He observed how they stopped everyone and searched any supplies being brought in. One man with a donkey and cart was forced to hand over a skin of wine.
Shayth returned to their camp and called the others over. He drew two parallel lines in the sand and pointed to the road. The Tutans nodded. There had been no need for conversation until now and, apart from working out the order for guard duty at night, they were fine to just smile and nod at each other.
Then he drew a castle tower. He looked at the men to see that they understood. On the other side, he put a cross and pointed at himself, Ilana and the Tutans. Again, they nodded.
Shayth put up a finger to signal that the next part was important. Close to where he had drawn their company, he drew two small lines and a helmet. When his audience didn’t immediately understand, he stood to attention and then put out a hand to stop people approaching. He also produced a credible salute. His expression was comically stern, and Ilana burst out laughing.
“You are not helping,” he said, failing to suppress a smile, himself.
�
�No, but at least I understand you,” she replied.
“We have to get past the checkpoint here. I have a plan,” he said and looked at the desert men. “But I’ve no idea how to explain it to you.”
It took time and a lot of pantomime for Shayth to explain what he wanted to do, but finally he felt that the Tutans understood his plan.
As the sun began its westerly descent, a line of horses and riders approached the guards. These guards were about to go off duty from a long day and were tired and bored. They also had trouble seeing the group coming out of the direct sunlight.
The leader was heavily armed and wrapped in a cloak. Behind him rode three scruffy men, hands tied and eyes down. A final rider, also armed and cloaked, brought up the rear.
“Trader,” said the leader, his tone gruff. “Got an agreement with Taben for these slaves.”
“Taben?” one soldier said. “Not sure I know him.”
“Do you know all the merchants in Galbrieth?” the man snapped. “I’ve traded here for years and I only know a select few.”
“And do you have a contract with this Taben? Some document?”
“I have his word,” the trader said.
“That’s all? Not sure I would be so trusting in your trade.”
Shayth tapped his sword and nonchalantly adjusted his bow. “I have an understanding with merchants. I have never tried to cheat them, ever. I agree on a price and bring them whatever I promise. And no one has ever let me down…twice.”
There was something in the man’s dark eyes that unsettled the officer. He laughed uneasily.
“You should get them housed by dark,” the officer said and handed Shayth a board to sign. “Move along.”
They passed through and all breathed a sigh of relief.
“Is this Taben for real?” asked Ilana.
“I hope not,” Shayth replied. “If we succeed and they remember this exchange, he won’t be in an envious position. We’ll go on for another hour and find a place to camp. We’re only a few miles from the town and I imagine the gates will be locked until morning.”
When they had settled down and eaten, Shayth turned to the three men. Again he took a stick and drew a path. He signaled their camp with a cross and then the town and castle, saying Galbrieth over and over. He drew two figures and a line into the castle. Then he drew three more and waited.
The three men spoke to each other. The clicking continued for a few minutes and then one of the men turned to Shayth and Ilana.
“We go in, too.” He said each word deliberately.
“You can understand us?” asked Ilana, raising her eyebrows.
“Why did you make me dance around like crazy trying to explain everything?” Shayth asked, clearly exasperated.
The man turned to speak to his friends. Their conversation was accompanied by considerable nodding. Then he turned back to Shayth.
“You scare us. We not used to your ways. When you dance and move hands around,” he did a credible impression, “we feel better with you.”
Ilana burst into laughter and the men joined her. Only Shayth stood there, his hands on his hips, the smiling butt of their joke.
Thirty-Three
Seanchai sunk into a deep sleep. He would learn later that Mhari kept close watch over him, leaving his side only to prepare food and do her own exercises.
He woke in one of the rare moments she was away. He lay for a long time, probably trying to piece together what had happened. Had it all been a dream? He started to sit up, but his head spun and he groaned. Mhari heard him and quickly came to his side.
“Welcome back, my young student. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve drunk a barrel of very potent ale,” Seanchai replied, rubbing his head. “I’m not sure I even have the strength to stand.”
“It’s natural that you feel this way after what you have been through,” Mhari said. “You slept for at least two full days. You were in the lake for two days before that. Let me make you some tea. I think you might need it.”
“Four days have passed? Wow!”
Seanchai laid his head back on the bedroll to doze. When Mhari returned, he needed help to sit up, and sipped the tea she brought him slowly. It was difficult for him to swallow, but he drank two cups of the resuscitating brew before declaring he was hungry.
“A good sign,” said Mhari. “I baked a tasty peach pie while you were gone.” She threw back her head, and her laughter bounced off the cavern walls. “Oh, Seanchai. I have been in such places as this for many days, even weeks, all alone. But this was the loneliest time I have ever endured.”
Seanchai smiled gratefully and munched the cracker bread and cheese offered. He devoured a couple of apples and some nuts, noticing how his teacher kept glancing at him. Mhari often made jokes, but now they seemed strained.
“You were worried, weren’t you?” Seanchai asked as the realization hit him. “You doubted whether I could make it.”
“I doubted whether I had prepared you well enough. We have had such little time together, and I knew it would be intense. Usually a student trains for at least two years before the teacher even considers such tests. But you’ve come through it successfully.”
“How do you know how it went?” Seanchai shot her a look. “Apart from how long it took.”
The old woman hesitated. “Well, to begin with, you’re alive.” She nodded at the swords that Seanchai had brought out of the water. “While it’s not unheard of that the lake offers up gifts and visions, it’s very rare. None of my past students have walked from the lake with something physical. You are different, very different. Are you strong enough to walk? There is something you need to see.”
Seanchai nodded and rose unsteadily. As he followed Mhari, his muscles protested, each movement awkward and alien. They went downward, and Seanchai rubbed his arms as the temperature dropped rapidly.
“We will not stay long; I only need you to see something,” Mhari said. “It is just around here.”
They rounded a corner and Seanchai saw a towering black rock behind a sheet of ice. Mhari stopped and faced him.
“Seanchai. I want you to look into this ice sheet. It makes for a nice mirror. Be prepared for what you will see.”
Seanchai creased his brow, not understanding what Mhari was getting at. But no warning could have prepared him for what he saw. He stared. He leaned forward and moved his hand to his hair and then his face.
His shoulder-length, mousey hair was now white. Not blond, but a clean white. He thought it might be a trick of the light, so he glanced at Mhari in the ice sheet. The old woman’s reflection was accurate. Seanchai leaned forward and stared again–this time at his once brown eyes. They were now a bright, piercing blue.
The elf took a step back to look at the rest of his body. He removed his shirt to find muscles that were defined and taut. His arms looked impressive, his chest and stomach lean. Seanchai had seen elves like this, but their bodies were toned by years of hard training or physical labor.
He looked at his teacher in puzzlement. But Mhari had already turned to go back up to the lake. He followed, putting his shirt back on as he went. His prior discomfort had only partly been fatigue. He had felt like his body was not his own, and now he understood why.
Back in the cavern, Mhari made more tea. When it was ready, she poured two cups and signaled to Seanchai to join her on a ledge overlooking the lake. They sat with their backs supported, in a silence that was at once comfortable and heavy. After a few moments, Mhari turned to the young elf and smiled.
“What? No questions?”
“I don’t know where to begin,” said Seanchai, shaking his head, and he heard how small his own voice sounded.
Thirty-Four
Shayth led his “slaves” unhindered into the city of Galbrieth. There was only one other checkpoint, and the guards seemed happy to let them through. They were so busy and had been told to watch out for elves. As he passed through the thick stone gateway, he looked up and marveled a
t the thickness of the great walls.
Shayth negotiated with ease, clearly familiar with the streets. He evaded the alleyways and shot furtive glances down their dark holes as he passed by. Nearer the center of the city, the bustle intensified and Shayth felt that they blended well into the crowd. But he also noticed many sixers of soldiers patrolling. Shayth had advised Ilana to keep her hood on and be assertive with the desert men. She pushed them to keep in line, though Shayth knew she derived no pleasure from it. There were very few elves wandering around and those he saw were scared and scampering from one place to the next.
They stopped at a small inn with an adjacent stable. Shayth directed the slaves into the stable and pretended to tie them to the wooden beams that separated the horses. After confirming they were alone, he whispered to the one who spoke his language.
“I’m sorry for treating you this way. We will bring you food soon, then you should try and sleep. We will come for you during the night.”
The big Tutan just nodded. As Shayth left the stable he heard quiet clicking among them. Ilana would bring them food and then stay in the room. She was nervous enough in a human city, but seeing how elves were being treated had made it considerably more intimidating.
Shayth wandered the streets, noting that the town looked worse for wear since the last time he had seen it. Many shops were closed and boarded up. There were more alehouses, and when he poked his head into one, the rancid smell and noise repelled him.
He made his way to the graveyard at the eastern end of the city. Before he entered, he looked carefully around. There was no one in sight. Shayth moved silently through the rows to the oldest part where the stones were smooth, the inscriptions indistinguishable, and the weeds overgrown. Behind a large tomb, he removed a small, crumbling corner stone and pulled two bags of coins from behind it. He had such stashes scattered around this region of Odessiya, ready if he ever had a need. He did now, but he shook his head to himself. Using it to rescue an elf, a friend, at that, was not something he had anticipated when he had hidden the money. He pushed the stone back in and replaced the weeds as best he could.
