by Pati Nagle
It would be quick, he hoped. No more than a moment’s pain. A swift end to all his troubles.
How strange to be standing here, contemplating ending his life. He had never really understood, until now, why an ælven would make such a choice.
Ælven lives were long; it was thought that they could be endless, yet eventually each chose to abandon the flesh. The eldest ælven whom he knew had seen the Bitter Wars. None remained who had seen the first attacks of kobalen on ælven villages, or the founding of Clan Ælvanen and the setting of the creed.
By comparison to those eldest he was extremely young, not even a full century behind him. Sad to have come to this so soon, but he could not bear to think of spending centuries in fear of the sun, in fear of both ælven and alben, living by the suffering of others. He would rather walk in spirit, and hope someday to try again to make a life in the world of flesh. This life was broken beyond mending, he feared.
“Luruthin!”
Eliani’s voice, so close that it startled him. Alarm tingled through his limbs. He should jump before she reached him, but he could not help turning his head.
“Luruthin, no!”
She was running along the river bank, slipping and scrambling in her haste. He knew a stab of fear for her. Vanorin was behind her, though. He would take care of her.
Luruthin looked down at the water again. The chill was beginning to reach him now. He shivered briefly.
“Cousin! I will not lose you!”
“Eliani, no!”
Vanorin's cry and a scuffle made Luruthin look back again. Vanorin had caught Eliani’s arm, keeping her from jumping down to where Luruthin stood. A wise act, for the ledge might have crumbled beneath both of them had she succeeded.
“I am sorry.” Luruthin looked up at her, knowing it was useless to try to explain. He shook his head helplessly. “I am so tired.”
Suddenly the pain returned. Unexpected tears slipped from his eyes. Eliani stared back at him, her face anguished.
“Tell Jhinani I love her.”
Eliani scowled. “How can I tell her that if you abandon her? She bears your child!”
Luruthin closed his eyes briefly. “He is lost to me now.”
“No! Not if the Lost become a clan! Luruthin, you can help them! You can speak for them at the Council.”
“Kivhani will speak for them.”
“But she is not known to the Council. You are!” A passionate fire lit Eliani’s eyes now, a look he knew of old. “They have named you a hero! If you join your voice to hers they must listen!”
A call to service. He frowned, not wanting to answer it, not wanting to let his heart reawaken, let the pain in again.
“They need you, Luruthin. The Lost need you, and I need you! Do not leave me, Cousin, I beg of you!” She gave a gasping sob.
Luruthin turned away, gasping himself as he gazed down at the rocky death below. Was it selfish of him to seek escape?
“Luruthin.” Vanorin’s voice, steady and controlled as ever. “Three of us are safer together than two. Stay for her sake.”
It broke his will. How vexing of Vanorin to remind him of his pledge. While there was breath in him, his sword was hers.
Luruthin turned away from the falls, stepped toward the river bank, and slipped on unseen ice. He fell, landing hard on one knee, and felt the rock crack beneath him.
“Luruthin!”
He flung up a hand. “Stay back! The rock is crumbling.”
His heart was pounding. He shifted his weight and felt the ledge shift as well.
Looking up, he saw Vanorin push Eliani unceremoniously back and kneel at the edge of the bank, reaching down to him. Luruthin stretched his arm, not daring to move his legs. He had to lean forward to reach Vanorin’s hand. As they clasped each other’s wrists, the rock beneath him broke away.
Eliani gave a sharp cry as he fell, rock bruising his knees and his arm jerked so hard he let out a grunt of pain. Vanorin’s grip held. The captain leaned back, straining to pull him up.
Luruthin’s arm felt like fire, like it would pull free of his shoulder. He scrabbled with his other hand for a hold on the bank, but could find no purchase. He saw Vanorin’s feet slipping as the captain strove to push backward.
His flailing hand was seized and pulled upward. Both shoulders protested with pain as Eliani and Vanorin hauled him onto the bank.
The three of them tumbled together into the snow, gasping for breath. Snow was in Luruthin’s face, in his eyes. He pushed himself up to his knees, wincing as the one he had fallen on protested his weight.
“Forgive me.”
Eliani threw her arms around him. In that moment he was glad to be alive. He would have to hope for more such moments, to ease the darkness of his path.
He stood, with Eliani's help, and found he could hobble well enough. They returned to the cave, and Vanorin built up the fire again. Luruthin sat beside it, shaking now, unable to stop the chattering of his teeth. Eliani wrapped blankets around him and stayed holding him until the shivering subsided.
After a while, Vanorin stood and left the cave, carrying the little cup with him. Eliani frowned, then got up to follow.
Luruthin watched her go, then returned his gaze to the fire. Spirits, he was more tired than he remembered ever being. He stared at the flames, content to think of nothing.
Eliani found Vanorin kneeling on the flat rock, the knife he had held in the fire and the cup he had taken with him sitting before him as he unlaced one leather bracer from a forearm. She stepped onto the rock and stood in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
Vanorin glanced up at her. “He is too weak to travel,” he said in a voice so low it barely reached her.
He set his bracer aside and pushed up the sleeve of his tunic, then held his arm over the cup and picked up the knife. Aghast, Eliani crouched before him.
“No!”
“There is no choice. There are no kobalen this high in this season. He cannot continue without food.”
“Vanorin—”
He had set the blade to his flesh, though, making a neat cut from which blood quickly welled. Eliani watched as the blood dripped into the cup.
“You will weaken yourself.”
“A little will not harm me.”
“You cannot do this every day!”
“No.”
His face was calm, a little stern. He glanced up and met Eliani’s gaze. Suddenly decided, she began to unlace her own bracer.
“I will contribute.”
“There is no need—”
“This will be from both of us. It is better so.” She held his gaze. “It will not be easy for him.”
Vanorin’s eyes showed his understanding. He made no further protest as Eliani picked up the knife and pressed it to her own flesh, hissing a little as she cut herself. She held her arm over the cup, nearly touching Vanorin’s, so close she could feel his khi. It would have made sense to wait, let him give his share first before giving hers, but she was ever impatient.
They sat silent as they bled together. Eliani felt a great warmth toward Vanorin, who had convinced Luruthin to live, who had pulled him to safety, who now gave of his very flesh for Luruthin’s sake. Always giving, never expecting thanks. Her heart swelled with fondness for him.
When the cup was close to full they withdrew their arms. Vanorin handed Eliani a kerchief with which to stanch her cut. She pressed it to her arm, staring at the blood which now steamed gently in the cold night.
A snowflake drifted into the cup, melting as it touched the warm, dark liquid. Eliani glanced up. She had not noticed the sky clouding over.
Snow again. She looked at Vanorin, saw him frowning. The snow would slow them, possibly even trap them. She regretted having been so insistent upon avoiding the roads.
Her arm had stopped bleeding. She handed the kerchief to Vanorin and pulled down her sleeve, then put on her bracer again and pulled the laces tight. Picking up the cup, she sighed.
&nb
sp; “This will be the proof of it. Not that proof is needed.”
She waited for Vanorin to put on his bracer and they returned to the cave together. Luruthin was sitting exactly as she had left him, staring into the fire. She cleared her throat, feeling awkward about making this offer.
“Luruthin...”
She could not continue. Instead she came toward him, knelt beside him, and held out the cup.
He stared at it, his nostrils flaring, eyes widening as he realized what it was. His gaze flew up to meet hers.
“No!”
“It is done. You need sustenance. We have a hard journey ahead.”
“Eliani—”
“This is our gift to you. Vanorin’s and mine.”
An anguished frown wrought his brow as his gaze shifted back to the blood. His mouth fell open and his eyes sharpened with need. His breathing was shallow. He shook his head, even as he reached for the cup.
Eliani wrapped her fingers around his, steadying his hand. He brought the cup to his lips, gave her a horrified glance, then closed his eyes and drank.
After the first cautious sip he lunged forward, gulping at the rest, nearly spilling it. Fear tingled through Eliani as she helped him drink. This was not her beloved cousin, this being with such animal need. He tipped the cup upward to drain it, then let go and sat back, gasping.
Eliani set the empty cup down beside the fire and watched Luruthin catch his breath, amazed at how swiftly color came into his cheeks. His pallor of the last few days vanished. He gazed at her from eyes more clear than they had been in days, clear and filled with wonder.
“Oh.”
Eliani glanced at Vanorin. Very rarely did the captain betray surprise, but it was on his face now as he gazed at Luruthin.
The frown that Luruthin had worn so constantly of late was gone. He sat up straighter and rolled his shoulders as if to ease some stiffness, showing none of his recent weakness as he looked from her to Vanorin.
“Thank you.” Luruthin's voice was notably stronger. “And please do not do that again.”
He stood up, stretching, then went to the cave’s mouth. Eliani got to her feet.
“Luruthin...”
“Do not worry, Cousin. I will not waste your gift.”
Eliani hastened to the entrance and stood watching as Luruthin walked to the edge of the pool. Snow caught in his hair and on the leathers he wore. He looked up at the falling flakes, laughed softly, then began to take off the leathers.
Vanorin joined Eliani in the entrance. They watched Luruthin strip, then gather the leathers and his clothing and carry them back to the cave. He grinned as he heaped them in the entrance.
“Out of the snow.” He turned and went back to the pool, walking straight into it up to his waist.
Eliani caught her breath just thinking of bathing in that icy water. Luruthin shook out his hair, then dove beneath the surface.
They watched him swim around in the pool for a short while, then come dripping back to the cave, his cheeks reddened with cold, his eyes bright. He stood by the fire, shaking out his wet hair over the rising heat.
“Perhaps we should start before the snow becomes deep. We have half the night, we can make good progress.”
Eliani traded a glance with Vanorin. “Which way do you mean to go?”
Luruthin looked at her in surprise as he pulled on a boot. “To Alpinon, of course.”
Eliani drew a breath. “We thought perhaps it would be best to return to the Lost's camp.”
Luruthin looked confused, then dismayed as he took her meaning. “Oh. I see. I was thinking of the Council.”
He looked so hurt, Eliani was smitten with remorse. “You might travel with Othanin and Kivhani to the Council. They do not know the roads.”
He nodded, then turned away, reaching for his pack. He took his water skin and Eliani’s flask out to the pool.
Eliani gazed after him. “I am such a clumsy wretch.”
Vanorin picked up a blanket and began folding it. “There was no gentle way to say it.”
Eliani gathered her own belongings. Hiking through a snowfall was not her preferred way to spend the night, but as Luruthin could not travel by day, there was no other choice. She was glad he felt well enough to move, instead of needing more rest. One less day lost.
The Trade Road
Rephanin sat a short distance apart from the army. Ehranan had called a brief halt where a stream crossed the road. Westward, the mountain peaks were shrouded in cloud. Here on the plains the sky was clear, stars glittering coldly and a chill wind cutting through Rephanin's cloak. He drew it closer.
His body ached in unaccustomed places, even after several days of riding. He bore it silently, knowing his own softness was the cause. Had he been told a year ago that he would make a march like this, he would have laughed aloud.
Filari sat beside him, still sullen but less wary. She surprised him by raising a new topic. “You are from Eastfæld, are you not?”
“In mindspeech, Filari.”
Your pardon. Are you from Eastfæld, my lord?
Long ago, yes.
Why did you come to Southfæld?
I suffered a disappointment, and wished to escape painful memories.
Her eyes narrowed. A disappointment in love?
You might say so.
And you never went back.
I grew accustomed to Glenhallow. It is a fair place to live.
It is that. Though I have heard Hollirued is fairer.
Hollirued. Rephanin sighed, searching far back in memory. It is very fair, and very old, and its ways have changed little over the centuries. Folk are more open minded in Southfæld.
Is that why you stayed?
Perhaps it is.
You used to host gatherings of pleasure.
He met her gaze, the sting of recollection haunting him. I did.
Now they were approaching his own pain, but he could reflect on it with less distress since Heléri had come back into his life. Filari was probably old enough to have attended one of his gatherings. He wondered if she had done so.
I was curious about them. Her eyes narrowed again and the whisper of a sly smile touched her lips. I suppose I shall not have a chance, now.
She knew it all, then. Of course. Everyone in Southfæld had heard of the tragedy.
I fear not.
A pity. It sounded enjoyable.
It was enjoyable. He almost said so aloud, then left it. Filari had heard much about his entertainments, no doubt. He had made no secret of them, and indeed folk had come from far away to attend them, which was why it had been such a shock to find that Soshari had been unaware of their nature.
Leave that. He wished to avoid the trap of remorse over past events. No good could come of further self-blame.
I regret that I had to discontinue them, but it was needful. They could never have been the same.
Filari nodded. One must go on.
Yes.
She met his gaze and silent understanding passed between them. One must go on, live down the past and atone for it as best one might. It was sometimes unpleasant, but regret was a part of atonement.
A movement nearby distracted him. Ehranan, watching them with curiosity.
Will you excuse me?
Of course.
Rising slowly, his stiff limbs complaining, Rephanin faced the commander. They had not had mindspeech for some days now, not since Rephanin had left the battleground. He had needed the respite, needed to find his balance again.
Ehranan regarded him steadily for a moment, then gestured toward the stream. They walked along it together, away from Filari and the rest of the army. At length, Ehranan pulled his cloak about himself and sat on the ground. Rephanin did likewise.
“You are still sore?”
“I will manage.”
“I dare not slow our pace—”
“We have discussed this. I will manage.”
Ehranan ran a hand over his face. “I am hurting you again.”
Rephanin hesitated. “May I speak to you?”
A faint smile crossed Ehranan’s lips. He nodded gravely.
Rephanin reached toward him in thought. Suddenly Ehranan was present in his mind, the familiar tone of his khi like a favorite melody remembered. A homecoming, it seemed, which surprised Rephanin. They had not shared mindspeech for very long—no more than a season—but the intensity of their work together had brought them close.
He drew a careful breath. I am here voluntarily, like all the rest. I need no coddling.
Ehranan gave a huff of laughter that expressed his disagreement. Are you well enough to search for more mindspeakers?
Rephanin blinked. I am still getting acquainted with Filari. We have not tested her gift at distance. She is eager to serve, though—when I mentioned she might go to Hollirued—
We need more. I want a mindspeaker in every realm, at least one. Keep searching, Rephanin.
Yes, my lord.
Now I have angered you.
No. But it is not so simple. I will try—I am not saying I will not try—but I cannot promise you I will find more.
He looked over the army, most of whom were from the Southfæld Guard. He had already tried them in the search that had led him to Thorian. The Steppegards and Ælvanen who had joined the army at Midrange he had not tried, so there was some potential there, perhaps.
Potential was necessary—that could not be created—but potential could be trained. It had not previously occurred to him that a distance speaker could be made, rather than found, but that in essence was what he had done with Thorian, and was doing with Filari.
To make a mindspeaker. That would certainly earn him a place in the ballads of history. He had far rather be remembered so than as a somewhat talented mage whose self-indulgence was legendary.
Ehranan looked eastward, then stood. Dawn was not yet near, but the horizon was beginning to glow with blue.
“We had better prepare to continue.”
Rephanin hid a grimace, and accepted the arm Ehranan offered to help him to stand.
Ebon Mountains
