by Alon Shalev
“Step forward,” she said in her shrill voice. Seanchai did so, wondering what was coming now. “Seanchai, son of Seantai, you came to us with two goals: to train with us and call us to arms. You declared the way in which you should be tested.
“Look around you. Those who know you best have given their answer. You leave here a Wycaan Master at the head of an army. The Elves of the West have given their answer.
“Go, then and free the races of Odessiya. Unite the Elven nation and rebuild the Alliance as our ancients foresaw.”
Dyfellian struck her staff on the platform, pounding the wood repeatedly, and the people took up the rhythm, clapping their hands in time. The beat reached a crescendo and then, as it began to subside, a high, shrill rustling came from the trees all around them.
Seanchai felt a surge of energy course through his body, a final gift from the forest. He bowed deeply and said, in a voice quivering with emotion, “Thank you.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
“I’m going after Ahad and Phineus. This changes nothing.”
“Shayth, if you face them, then you’ll face the Emperor, as well.” Maugwen appeared the most composed of the three.
“Maybe you should give yourself up,” Rhoddan suggested. “Let’s find out if you are a Wycaan.”
“Are you crazy?” Maugwen snapped, her composure snapped. “What do you think the Emperor will do with him? He’ll either kill Shayth and eliminate him as a threat, or bend him to his will. Shayth might be a Wycaan, but he is untrained and will face a master.”
“But, meanwhile, he’d provide a great distraction for the Emperor,” Rhoddan continued, unmoved by her tone. “It would give Seanchai–”
“So you’ll serve him up as bait? Is this your idea of friendship?”
“Enough,” Shayth scratched his bristly hair. “We’ll decide in the morning. Leave it be for now.”
“Whatever we decide, we know one thing for sure,” Maugwen said, her voice calm again. “We must leave the village. I wouldn’t put it past your uncle to burn it to the ground for sheltering you. Can we at least agree to that?”
Rhoddan and Shayth both nodded, and each moved to his bedroll. As one, they both stood up again and spoke together. “We should post. . .”
“I’ll go first,” Rhoddan said. “I’m not going to fall asleep.”
He sat outside the hut for some time, watching the sliver of moon climb into the sky. When he yawned, he stood and began to pace the muddy, brown furrow that served as a street.
As he walked, he went over the various options they had and realized the futility of each. Frustration welled up inside of him. They were waiting for Seanchai, who had gone into an unknown land to seek a people who had vanished into legend, be trained and tested, and then–hopefully–return. What if Seanchai was dead or lost? How long could they hope to hold out against the Emperor’s vast armies?
He stopped at the end of the street and stared into the blackness. There was a small pile of rocks near his feet, so he picked up a few and threw them with all his strength.
“Don’t do that,” Maugwen said from behind him. “They plow these fields with oxen and kneel to weed and harvest. They clear the fields from stones, and you’re undoing their work.”
“I’m so useless,” Rhoddan hissed. “I follow everyone; first Seanchai and now Shayth. Aaagh!”
Maugwen’s hand went to his shoulder. “When we were in the dungeons at Galbrieth, I kept asking Ilana about you. I watched you train in the darkness. Your jokes and kind words held me together, and I craved your attention. You made me feel like. . . like somebody who mattered. Maybe you don’t have Wycaan powers or a royal heritage, but you hold our little band together.
“You’re brave and principled, Rhoddan, and you hold a mirror up to the rest of us, even when we have closed our eyes. History will record the Shayths and Seanchais, but those of us who live through it know your worth. We appreciate how important you are.”
Rhoddan stared at her. Then she opened her arms and they hugged tightly for a long time.
Rhoddan walked in a land he had never seen, and yet seemed familiar. It was hazy and subdued, and everything shimmered around the edges: the rocks, the trees, and the stream he followed.
He walked around a bend and stopped, frozen. Further up the stream, a pack of bears fished and cavorted. Rhoddan knew there was something unnatural for he knew black and white bears weren’t from the same regions. It seemed they were all trying to teach a young grizzly to fish.
Rhoddan silently climbed the rock and lay down to watch them. He laughed when the grizzly slipped and fell into the water, and was surprised to see the bear pack react as if laughing, too. The grizzly’s big paws splashed the pack’s two cubs, and they ran for refuge behind an adult black bear.
“He makes friends so naturally, doesn’t he?” said a voice behind him.
Rhoddan turned to find a small, ruddy bear sitting on his haunches. He stared at it for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. “Are you talking to me, little bear?”
“When you are awake, do you usually talk to animals, Rhoddan?”
“Um, no. As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
“And in your waking life, would you see bears like these together?”
“No.”
“Do you know what you see there, Rhoddan? It is an alliance. Any bear there remind you of someone?”
Rhoddan looked at the grizzly in the middle of the pack.
“That’s right,” the red bear said. “Seanchai is in his animal form. I am Denalion, a dreamwalker of the Elves of the West, and I have created this dream of yours. I do not know how to bring others with me so he is unable to see or talk with you. But you can see it is him.”
“Why are you in my dreams?” Rhoddan asked.
“I bring a message from the Wycaan. Seanchai needs your help, Rhoddan–you and the one called Shayth. He asks that you make haste to Ballendir of the dwarves and to Umnesilk, First Boar of the pictorians.
“Seanchai asks that you mobilize to attack the army at the Cliftean Pass.”
“There are many of them, and they have fortified the area,” Rhoddan said.
“And I’m sure the Emperor is sending more troops as we speak. You need to engage them and try to draw some of their forces and, more importantly, their attention away from the Pass.
“We must get Seanchai through. He believes the Emperor saw him escape and might still be in the area. Seanchai needs to confront the Emperor so the soldiers no longer have a commander.”
“Is Seanchai strong enough to defeat the Emperor?”
Denalion did a fair job of a bear sighing. “I don’t know. He has learned much, but one key thing alludes him.”
“What’s that?”
Denalion didn’t answer, but looked over at the bears in the river.
“Wycaans can transform into animals,” Rhoddan said. “Is there something wrong with the way he does it? We suspect that the Emperor can become a firebreather.”
Denalion looked back at Rhoddan. “You’re very smart, my young elf. Most Wycaans will never find their animal form. Only the masters–the special ones–can complete the change.
“Seanchai should be able to. The bears came to him in his elf form and expected it. We have seen him change once, in a moment when he yielded great power, but he has not succeeded since.”
Rhoddan looked across to the playful bears. “If he cannot change, and the Emperor does, he will be defeated, won’t he?”
The red bear sighed again and looked away. “We can all only play our part, Rhoddan. There is time yet, so who knows? For now, you and Shayth must mobilize and attack. Can you do that?”
Rhoddan nodded. Then a thought occurred to him. “Does Seanchai come alone?”
“I cannot discuss this with you in case you are captured. He said you would understand. But I imagine you know him far better than I do, and I would not have asked that question. I think you already know the answer.”
Rhoddan no
dded, and then smiled. The ruddy bear began to chug–a rough, throaty sound. He was laughing, and Rhoddan laughed, too. It felt good to laugh. His pent-up frustration flowed out of him as he let his head fall back and released his emotions for the first time in ages.
Rhoddan heard others laughing. He opened his eyes and saw Shayth and Maugwen staring at him. Both wore broad smiles across their faces. Weak light filtered through the window. It was dawn.
“Someone had a good dream,” Shayth said.
“You have no idea,” Rhoddan replied. “No idea. Let’s eat and pack up. We have much to do.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Seanchai could not lead his small army back the way they had come; the magical barrier was one-way only. They had to take a roundabout route through the forest and out onto the Plains of Godrin, which would lead to the Cliftean Pass. At that point, the Emperor’s sentries would see them.
“This will take too long,” he said to his small group of command: the Weapons Master, Denalion, Cheriuk, Shathea, and Sellia. “It could take two weeks to cross the plain. I think the dwarves could engage the army within three days.”
The others, Sellia apart, glanced at each other, and then Denalion spoke. “It will take two days to reach the end of the forest. We will then cross the plain in less than three days.”
“How?”
“You’ll see,” the redheaded elf said. “Trust us.”
“I do,” Seanchai said. “I haven’t thanked you all for coming. I didn’t expect this.”
“No, it’s we who need to thank you, Seanchai,” Shathea said. “We weren’t thriving in the forest; we were stagnating. And you know what happens to water that doesn’t move.”
Seanchai turned to Cheriuk. “I thought you didn’t like me. What made you come?”
Cheriuk frowned as he considered his answer. “Though you vastly improved, you have more to learn with the Win Dao swords. I am worried by the prospect of you being defeated by a lesser, but smarter, swordself.”
“Your concern for my survival is gratifying,” Seanchai replied drily.
“You miss my point,” Cheriuk said, raising one eyebrow indignantly. “I treasure my reputation and that of the Weapons Master.”
Everyone laughed as they dispersed. When Seanchai was alone with Sellia, he turned to her.
“Was he joking?”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “That’s for you to figure out,” she said. “Come, we’ve spent no time together in ages. Let’s go for a walk.”
They strolled through the forest and were soon alone.
“How does it feel to know you have family and a history?” Seanchai asked.
“It’s a lot to think about,” Sellia said fondling her mother’s stone. “But there’s nothing I can do with it. I won’t get to know my family, and I’m still left with many questions.”
“Do you regret leaving them? Do you want to go back?”
Sellia stopped and turned to him. Her forehead creased. “Why do you ask? Don’t you want me with you?”
“Part of me wants to leave you here,” Seanchai said, eliciting a deeper frown from her beautiful face. “No, don’t misunderstand me. I know you want to learn about your family. And I would feel lost without you, but I know that when the battle begins, you’ll stay close to me, you’d give your life for me, and I might lose you. I can’t go through that again.”
Sellia pulled him into her arms and held him close. When she spoke, she whispered in his ear. “It will be different this time. I can’t promise either of us will survive. But I can promise I will try and stay alive for as long as you are.
“Ilana was convinced she was going to die. She accepted and prepared for it. I am not like her. No prophecy or wise dwarf has condemned me. I have a luxury that Ilana didn’t. I’m dreaming of a future, after you defeat the Emperor–a future that has us together.”
“Mhari told me that relationships rarely work for the Wycaans. I’ll be traveling around the land. You might join me at first, but if we have calhei, you–”
Sellia put a finger to his lips. “I said I dream about a future. For now, that is enough.”
She moved her finger away and replaced it with her lips.
They reached the edge of the forest at nightfall the following day. Denalion and the Weapons Master approached Seanchai and Sellia as the others set up camp.
“You will sleep away from the camp tonight, and neither of you will eat,” the old elfe said. “Seanchai, do your meditations and prepare yourself.”
“What for?”
“For whatever happens tomorrow,” Denalion said, mischievously arching an eyebrow.
Seanchai went through his standing exercises, and Sellia completed a series of slow stretches and movements Seanchai had never seen her do before. When they had finished, they wrapped up together in the bear fur.
“What were you doing before?” Seanchai asked her.
“While you were off playing swords and futilely trying to become better with the bow than me, I learned a form of stretching exercises that the elves here have done for centuries. It makes you more supple both physically and mentally. I will show you when we have time. . . afterwards. Now, go to sleep. It sounds like we have a big day ahead of us.”
“Do you know what’s going to happen tomorrow?” Seanchai asked.
Sellia turned onto her side, her back to him, and feigned sleep.
“Fair enough,” Seanchai said and, pulling her close, spooned his body around her. “I’m glad you chose to come with me, Sellia. I know what you’ve given up to be here.”
Sellia snored softly. Seanchai didn’t know whether she had heard him or not.
“Dream of our future,” he whispered. “Keep me by your side in the dream world.”
And with the scent of her hair filling his nostrils, Seanchai drifted into a deep sleep.
Chapter Seventy
Seanchai frowned. He had woken with the first lights of dawn and gone through his exercises, filling himself with the energy of the ancient trees. He was not sure if he would ever have such an opportunity again to feel the vibrancy of the forest. Now he stood staring out over the Plains of Godrin.
While not totally flat there were almost no trees and, more importantly, Seanchai could not see the Cliftean Mountains in the distance. The rising sun restricted his sight, but Seanchai could not sense them. He could feel something else, though. There was life on the plain, but this did not hold his interest.
Denalion had entered Rhoddan’s dream two days ago. The dwarves would be ready to march and could engage the Emperor’s army within another two days, maybe three. Seanchai knew he had to join them soon to have any chance of defeating a far larger, well-drilled army. He wondered if the Emperor or General Shiftan had decided to reinforce their defenses that faced west. He sighed. They would most certainly have done so.
He heard Sellia coming up behind him. He turned and gasped as the rising sun lit up her dark skin. The small, red stone on her hair band glimmered.
“You’re beautiful,” he marveled, and felt the tips of his ears burn.
She smiled and threw her arms around him. “I meant to thank you for packing up the bags,” he said into her ear.
He felt Sellia’s body ripple with laughter. “’You’re beautiful works better,” she said, then pulled away and kissed him. She stroked the tips of his ears, which, he was sure, confirmed he had blushed.
Denalion spoke suddenly from behind them. “Sellia. Please take your bags and join the others. They’re over that way.” He nodded back the way he had come.
“Seanchai, come with me,” he continued, and the Wycaan followed the dreamwalker out onto the plain. They climbed a small hill and when they reached its crest, Denalion instructed him to put his bags and weapons down. “Have you prepared?” he asked.
“We fasted, and I’ve done my exercises,” Seanchai replied. “These plains are immense. We won’t get there in time to help the dwarves and pictorians.”
“We will, but for now, put such thoughts aside. I want you to scry. Look for life on the plain and, when you find it, invite it in. It will be suspicious of you, so take your time. Let it probe if it tries. You have nothing to fear.”
Denalion sat down and closed his eyes. Seanchai planted his feet and began his breathing. He felt the energy rising up through the ground, considerably less vibrant than the forest.
He allowed it to flow through him, and then he sent it out onto the plain, probing for life. He felt a soft tug at his consciousness, but when he tried to connect, it shied away. He moved his mind slowly in its direction and followed its trail without trying to catch up. The creature–no, creatures–moved quickly and lithely. He sensed them turn in a circle, and one of the creatures tentatively came forward.
Seanchai resisted the temptation to probe with his mind, and instead waited for the creature to approach him. He felt a warm sensation that resembled hot breath and heard panting of an animal that was wary and ready to take flight. He needed to ground his energy and allow the creature to decide.
The warm, humid breath entered his consciousness, and he could sense two flaring nostrils breathing on his face and into his body. It was strange, alien, and scary, but he kept himself still. He felt a layer of sweat on his face and a chill behind his neck.
You call upon us to bear you, but we are free.
“You are free,” Seanchai said in his mind. “But I need your help. You have answered to the call of the Elves of the West in the past.”
We have answered the call of the Wycaans, yes, but they are not what they once were. In times long past they were mighty leaders, masters of Odessiya. The age of the Wycaan has passed.
“No, it has not. The races of Odessiya have cried out for freedom, and the Wycaans rise again to lead them in the fight.”
