by Pati Nagle
A female, dead. Birani, their clan-sister.
Shock and horror swept through him, then his gaze fixed on her throat, where dark, frozen blood had scarcely closed a sharp cut. He could smell the blood despite the cold, and it sparked a strange twist in his gut. Turning away, he stumbled a few steps and then fell on his knees in the snow, retching.
Hands gripped his shoulders as his stomach heaved. When the spasms ceased, he felt shaken and weak.
“Come away.” Eliani's voice was gentle.
She helped him stand, retrieved the blanket he had dropped and shook it free of snow, and supported him as they walked back to the hollow. Felahran and Onami came toward them, faces anxious.
“Birani has been attacked and killed. Please help Vanorin.”
Looking alarmed, they hastened past. Luruthin wished that he could help as well. He felt angry at his weakness.
When they reached the hollow he sat down, huddling in the blanket. “Go and help them, I will be all right.”
“I will not leave you alone.”
A shudder passed through him. Eliani knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him. Warmth spread through him from her touch. He sighed and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He had not realized how cold he was.
“So your vision was a warning.”
He remembered the savage eyes he had seen, then the image of dead guardian returned to him even more vividly. Frozen blood black against her flesh, black spatters in the snow.
“But this was the work of no beast. Her throat was cut, not bitten.”
“Kobalen, perhaps.”
“Up here, in the snow? I doubt it.”
Eliani made no answer. If it had not been kobalen, it must have been alben. Yes, alben.
Horror shook him, making him shiver again. Eliani’s arms tightened around him. How had the alben found them? Had they hunted him even into the heights of the Ebons? The eyes in his vision had been golden, not black.
Fear froze his thinking, but he was able to find a flaw in the reasoning that alben had attacked Birani. If the alben had followed them, why had they waited so long, and why had they not attacked the entire party?
Sounds reached him from outside, voices and shuffling footsteps. They had brought Birani back with them, he realized as he heard them laying her down. Vanorin was talking of finding wood for a pyre.
Eliani raised her head, listening. Luruthin drew away.
“Go ahead. I am all right.”
She got up and went out. Alone behind the blankets, Luruthin shivered as he listened to their plans.
In the morning they would build a pyre for Birani, cut wood for it if they had to. They would take her sword and a few of her belongings back to Alpinon to give to her family. They had no leisure to make a conce, but they could set a plain stone to mark the place where she had fallen, and later it could be replaced with a conce, if anyone wished to make the journey.
Luruthin closed his eyes. Honoring everyone they had lost on this mission would require setting conces from Alpinon to Ghlanhras. He had never expected that so many would fall, that the hazards would be so numerous and so deadly. Most of the misfortune could be attributed to the alben, some directly to Shalár. A twist of anger tightened in his chest.
Someone pulled the blankets aside, letting in a gust of cold air. Luruthin looked up and saw Eliani, burdened with Birani’s leather armor. He could smell the blood on it, and his empty stomach tightened into a knot.
“Put this on.”
He stared at her, aghast. He shook his head.
“It will keep you warm. Put it on.”
Her voice was stern and commanding. She dropped the armor beside him and went back outside.
He gazed at the crumpled heap of leather, tears welling in his eyes. He did not feel right benefiting by Birani’s death, but Eliani was correct. He must avail himself of every advantage.
Poor Birani. He remembered her dancing a few steps around the campfire in the Lost's meadow, just two nights since, laughing and tossing her freshly braided hair. She was slighter of build than he. With trembling fingers he reached out to loosen the straps of the leathers.
“Vanorin, do not go alone.” Eliani could not keep the dread from her voice.
“Onami may come with me. Stay here.”
Onami glanced at her, then followed Vanorin down the trail back toward where they had found Birani. Eliani watched, feeling helpless, foolish, frightened. She wanted to command their return.
She was about to go back to the camp when she heard Vanorin's startled cry. She ran, heart pounding.
At a turning she saw Vanorin on his knees, Onami sprawled, sword fallen from her hand. Blotches of blood, dark on the snow, and a face snarling at her.
“Kelevon!”
He let his snarl become a grin. “Hello, my sweet.”
Even as she reached for her sword, she heard footsteps behind her. Kelevon threw his knife, and Eliani heard the thud of it striking home.
Half turning, she glimpsed Felahran, the knife lodged in his throat. She let out a cry of dismay as she turned toward Kelevon, drawing her sword.
Pain swept over her; khi that was fire, angry fire. Stunned, she stumbled, then it was gone and Kelevon was at Vanorin's side.
“No!”
Eliani lunged forward, sword swinging. Kelevon sprang away, laughing.
“Farewell, sweet Eliani!”
He turned and fled. She would have pursued but for fear that Vanorin needed her help.
“Coward! Traitor!”
It felt good to scream that at him. An arrow hissed past her as she turned; Luruthin stood over Felahran, bow in hand. She met his gaze, then knelt beside Vanorin.
“Are you wounded?”
He shook his head, breathing unsteadily. “Help the others.”
She put a hand on his shoulder briefly, and was reassured. His khi was far from calm, but he was unhurt.
She stood, swallowed, and went to Felahran.
Luruthin lowered his bow. Kelevon was out of sight, now, lost among the trees. Becoming aware of the sound of anguished weeping, he looked down and saw Eliani on her knees beside Felahran. She turned him on his side, and blood oozed from around the knife in his throat.
The smell of blood smote Luruthin again, so powerfully he gave a small gasp. Looking around, he saw Onami lying crumpled, her blood melting the snow around her. Vanorin had struggled to his feet and was coming toward Eliani.
A powerful cramp gripped Luruthin’s stomach. He was empty, and suddenly desperately hungry, and for a wild moment the blood smelled like food. Swallowing, he shook his head and took a step toward Eliani and Vanorin.
Vanorin was speaking. “You cannot help him. He is gone.”
Eliani raised a tear-streaked face. “Onami?”
Vanorin shook his head, then glanced up at Luruthin. “We need to move them. Can you help?”
Luruthin nodded, though he felt faint with hunger. He slung his bow at his back, and the three of them moved Felahran and Jhathali up to the side of the cliff where they had camped, laying them beside Birani.
Vanorin took a small woodcutter’s knife from his pack and they went out to gather wood, staying together, watching and listening, keeping close to the camp. They worked in silence.
Luruthin’s thoughts went from grief to anger to fear that Kelevon would attack again, or had gone to fetch others. Vanorin seemed to fear that as well, for he pushed for speed. He cut down dead saplings whole and Eliani and Luruthin dragged them up to the camp, stacking them to make a pyre. When Vanorin judged they had enough, he and Eliani prepared the three bodies for burning, taking their swords and pouches to carry away.
Luruthin sat against the rock wall, arms across his anguished stomach as he watched. The blood smell pervaded his awareness, making it hard to think of anything else. He considered trying to eat, but though he was hungry his stomach rebelled at the thought of food. He took a few sips of water instead, which eased him a little.
Vanorin summ
oned him to help lay the dead across the pyre. Luruthin’s arms trembled as together they lifted the three fallen guardians one by one. He, Vanorin, and Eliani stood gazing at them for a moment, then Vanorin looked at Eliani, who coughed and spoke.
“Spirits, welcome those who have left this flesh to cross into your realm. Birani, Onami, and Felahran. Their service shall be remembered. May they walk in light henceforward.”
The last words came out sounding strangled. Fresh tears streaked her cold-reddened cheeks. Vanorin wept silently as well, and Luruthin felt his own tears falling, drawing lines of cold down his face.
Eliani raised her hands toward the pyre. Vanorin and Luruthin did likewise. Luruthin felt khi stinging in the air as the three of them summoned fire within the dry wood.
The pyre burst into flame. Luruthin stumbled back from the sudden heat. Feeling weak, he backed against the cliff wall and sank to the ground once more.
Eliani glanced over her shoulder at him, then returned her gaze to the fire. Vanorin went into the hollow. Luruthin could hear him moving behind the blankets, going through the packs, consolidating supplies.
They must leave here. They could not stay, nor did Luruthin wish to stay and watch the flesh of their companions burn to ash. He looked southward, though he could not see very far toward their goal. His gaze drifted upward, to the sky filled with shining stars. Did their friends walk up there, now, among the stars?
No, the spirit realm was not among the stars, though the custom was to look skyward when speaking of spirits. He thought again of his daughter’s voice, and remembered the eyes that he believed she had shown him.
With a start he sat up. Golden eyes! Steppegard eyes, Kelevon’s! She had been trying to warn him.
Kelevon’s eyes were still golden, Luruthin thought, frowning as he tried to remember. The traitor's hair had gone half-white, though. He was becoming alben.
Sickened, Luruthin leaned back against the rock again. That one who had been ælven could attack his own kind so brutally horrified him. With bitterness he remembered Kelevon’s past unkindness to Eliani—trivial compared with what he had done this night, but indicative that cruelty was part of his nature. In that sense he had been like the alben all along.
Vanorin emerged. Luruthin was surprised to see him empty-handed. Vanorin glanced at him and summoned him with a gesture. Luruthin got to his feet, pausing as a cramp seized his gut.
“Let us place a stone where Birani fell.”
Slowly Eliani turned her head to look at Vanorin, then nodded. “No need for one here. This place we will remember.”
The three of them walked back to the spot where Birani had been killed. Compared with where the others had fallen near the cliff, there was less blood here.
Kelevon had drunk it, Luruthin realized with a fierce pang of anger. Immediately another cramp bent him nearly double. Vanorin looked at him sharply, but Luruthin shook his head as the cramp passed. He straightened, and helped Vanorin and Eliani roll a small boulder to the place where Birani had died.
The effort left him dizzy and winded. Eliani placed a hand on his shoulder, her face concerned. Khi blazed through him at her touch. He closed his eyes, letting it flow through him, wanting more. It did ease him somewhat.
“We must go.” Vanorin's voice.
Luruthin opened his eyes, feeling a stab of anger though he knew Vanorin was right. In silence he followed the others back to the hollow.
The pyre was melting snow from all the trees nearby. The space before the hollow was wet, and the water had begun to soak into the bottom edges of the hanging blankets. Vanorin pushed one aside and fetched out three packs, two of them heavily loaded. He handed the lightest to Luruthin, along with a sword in its scabbard on a belt.
“Felahran’s. You might as well have the use of it.”
Luruthin nodded and strapped on the belt while Vanorin strapped Jhathali's sword to his own back. Eliani used Birani’s scabbard to hold her own sword, tossing her makeshift sling of tangled net onto the pyre, and wrapped Birani’s blade in a blanket before tying it to her back. She shouldered her pack over it, and her bow and quiver over them.
Luruthin lifted his own pack, bow, and quiver. He knew Vanorin had made his burden as light as possible, but with the added weight of the leathers he wore, he felt weary before they had even begun to march.
Vanorin left the blankets hanging and the spare supplies behind them. He handed a walking stick to Luruthin and one to Eliani, keeping a third for himself.
They paused to gaze at the pyre once more, now so hot they could not come within an armspan of it. At last Vanorin turned away, starting southward.
“Come.”
Eliani gestured to Luruthin to go second, but Luruthin shook his head. Kelevon was roaming these woods, and Eliani’s back should be protected. He managed a smile.
“I will shout if I cannot keep up, or perhaps you will hear me tumble down the slope.”
“You look pale. Are you well?”
“Not very, but I will manage.”
He took three long swallows from his water flask and left it slung at his hip. The water churned in his stomach as he walked, but eased the hunger pangs somewhat.
As before, Vanorin tested the ground ahead with his stick. The snow was not too deep, but their progress was slow. Even so, Luruthin soon found himself lagging behind. He glanced eastward and saw the dawn beginning to lighten the horizon’s edge. He pushed himself forward, straining to catch up to the others.
Vanorin and Eliani paused at the top of a ridge. Luruthin saw Vanorin pointing southward, and as he reached them the captain turned to glance at him. Breathing hard, Luruthin saw a river glinting cold in the valley below. Not the Basarindel, he knew. Some lesser watercourse.
Vanorin looked at him. “The spring is on the far side. Can you continue?”
“Yes, if you will give me a moment to catch my breath.”
Realizing that his legs were trembling, Luruthin sat down. He pulled off his pack, knowing he would not be able to stand again with it on his back.
Eliani sat beside him and opened her own pack, taking out a pouch of dried fruit. She offered one to Luruthin. He took it and raised it to his mouth, but the smell repelled him and his stomach clenched in protest. Shaking his head, he gave it back.
“You must eat. Some meat?”
“No. Not now.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. They could not stay in this high place. Too cold, too exposed. He thought about reaching the river. That much he could manage, and then he would think about the next goal.
Vanorin’s footsteps roused him. Opening his eyes, he saw the captain returning toward them from the east.
“I find no sign of Kelevon behind us, or below. I think he has gone.”
Eliani’s face hardened. “I should have killed him. He used khi as a weapon! I was so surprised....”
“He will not surprise us again.”
“No.” Eliani looked up at the captain. “What did he do to you?”
Vanorin’s face went grim. “As you said, he used khi.”
Remembering how Shalár had done the same to him, Luruthin shuddered. It was an outrageous invasion, painful and terrifying. A horrible distortion of what should be a respectful intimacy.
“It is plain that he cares nothing for the creed.” Vanorin glanced at Luruthin. “None of us goes anywhere alone.”
Luruthin nodded. Even if Kelevon was not following them, they were vulnerable to other dangers. A catamount might attack a solitary ælven. Kobalen in any numbers would not hesitate to strike.
“Perhaps we should turn east and make for the road.”
Eliani sighed wearily. “We must cross this river in any case. Let us cross it high, where it will be smaller. Let us find the spring, then we can decide.”
“Very well.”
Vanorin glanced toward Luruthin. Suppressing a groan, Luruthin stood up, pausing for a moment to get his balance. He looked d
own at the river. The descent was steep, but not too far. He thought he could manage it. He hoped so.
He drank a little more water, then lifted his burdens. His calves complained as the party started downward. The snow was deeper here, under the shade of the thick evergreen forest. Vanorin broke a trail for them, turning across and across the steep slope. He paused at every turn to let Luruthin catch up.
Each step seemed to jolt Luruthin’s aching knees. He felt numbness beginning to claim his mind, the same sort of weariness he had felt as they fled through the darkwood forest.
By the time they neared the river the sky was growing light, the glow of dawn visible between tall treetops. A roaring sound was growing in the back of Luruthin’s awareness. He thought at first that it was caused by weariness, but when Vanorin paused to await him, he saw that the others heard the sound as well.
They were pointing eastward, nodding in agreement. As Luruthin reached them Vanorin looked at him.
“A waterfall. We are near its head. Eliani would like to view it, if you agree.”
Luruthin shrugged slightly, then shifted his pack to ease an ache in one shoulder. He was too weary to be charmed by the thought of admiring a waterfall, but would be glad of any chance to rest.
Vanorin started eastward, no longer turning but making steady progress downward toward the river. The roaring grew louder, much louder, then suddenly Luruthin could see the water ahead through the trees, looking black in the shadow of the valley. The river was perhaps three rods across, flowing level and silent toward its fall.
They turned to walk along its course. Ice dripped into the river from the snowy bank. A cool breeze blew across the water, and the glow of the coming sun increased above the mountain ridge on the far side. Luruthin found himself blinking at its brightness.
They reached the top of the cascade and paused to look down. The water poured over a shelf of rock that stretched over openness for perhaps a rod, the space behind it broken back, as if some softer rock beneath the shelf was crumbling away. Eventually the shelf would break and fall. Looking down, Luruthin saw huge blades of rock from earlier collapses in the pool below, vanishing and reappearing out of the drifting mist.
