Journey of the Wanderer

by Shawna Thomas

  “I am sorry we’re late,” Arien interrupted. “What are we debating?”

  “Your father wants us to behave like cowards,” Sheenan said.

  The light from the fire flickered on the planes of the Dawn Children faces, giving them the appearance of carved stone. Ewen motioned for Sheenan to sit back down. The elder grimaced but settled himself on his chair.

  “I don’t think Ewen is asking us to implement a strategy of cowards but of stealth and cunning,” Galen’s soft voice soothed.

  Sheenan’s nostrils flared as he spoke. “Sneaky and crafty. Not worthy of the Dawn Children.”

  “Cowardly.” Maccrea crossed his arms, resting them against his chest.

  “Enough.” Ewen raised a hand. “Last night, I was on my balcony looking over the field near the river. Rabbits fed on the grasses in large numbers. As they ate, an owl swooped down and decreased their number by one. The others scurried. There was only one owl. But they didn’t know that. They also didn’t know where the owl would strike.” His lips turned at the corners. “And I knew how we must fight this war.”

  “Like an owl after a rabbit?” Arien’s eyebrows drew together.

  Manu leaned forward. “Your father suggested that we fight using a different strategy.” He brushed a stray silver-white braid back behind his ear. “Correct me if I have this wrong. You suggest we break up into small bands and attack several areas at once, then before the enemy can respond, we retreat?”

  “Like a mosquito after a bull?” Galen asked.

  Ilythra smiled. “It’s brilliant! Stealthy, but brilliant, and he won’t expect it.”

  “It is the only way to use our fewer numbers to our advantage. We cannot attack head on,” Ewen insisted.

  “I’ll agree it has merit, but many of our warriors will find it...distasteful, dishonorable,” Manu said.

  Ewen smiled and turned to Ilythra. “Yes. That is why Ilythra and Arien are going to teach the human warriors Elder fighting styles. The humans will be in charge. We will orchestrate this game but won’t take the lead.”

  “You mean we will not fight?” Arien asked.

  “I wish I could assure us all of that. No,” Ewen said. “We will fight. In the end, we will all be called to pick up the sword. But for this strategy to work, we need the humans to be the front lines. We will teach them all we know about how to survive and give them every advantage. But the tide has turned against the Dawn Children. We can’t be assured that we would defeat the army, only to be slaughtered by townspeople.”

  “The traders will spread the truth,” Ilythra interjected.

  Maccrea made a low noise in his throat.

  Ewen’s green gaze rested on Ilythra for a moment. “This is good. Thank you.” He turned back to the rest of the council. “As far as it’s possible to do, Ryliann’s men will learn to blend into enemy camps, gain valuable knowledge, sabotage weapons, food supplies. We’ll set up ambushes. Humans cart their food at the rear where it’s lightly guarded. We can attack their stores and be gone before they know what hits them.”

  “We’ll need precise information of the enemy’s movements.” Galen was rubbing the scar across his cheek, a sure sign the warrior was deep in thought.

  “Strike at their food lines? Harass the column? Infiltrate their ranks? Sabotage their weapons, their water? Sounds like human work to me,” Sheenan said. “Underhanded.”

  “We’ll need to be quiet, swift and deadly.” Manu’s voice gained strength as he spoke. “They’ll think we are everywhere at once and become anxious, wondering where we’ll strike next. We’ll use their own fables of the Dawn Children against them.”

  “How will we use fables against them if humans execute these attacks?” Galen asked.

  “Good question.” Ewen smiled. “By providing our garments and equipment for the humans. When it works to our advantage, the enemy will think they’re fighting us.”

  “Only if they have never fought an Elderborn before,” Sheenan said.

  The low murmur of laughter eased the tension in the room.

  “How many of them have?” Ewen asked.

  The council members nodded in agreement.

  “That may work while the humans fight, but there will be casualties. What then?” Manu asked.

  Ewen turned to the elder. “The humans will only be wearing Elder cloaks. They’ve been told to remove them from the dead, but leave the bodies.” Ewen could feel the council recoil. The Dawn Children didn’t leave their dead. “This isn’t an uncommon practice for humans,” he assured them. “Human bodies will blend with the enemy’s dead. Deception cannot last for long, but enough to give us the edge we need.”

  “A larger enemy is slower to respond,” mused Galen.

  “Yes, their size and our knowledge of the terrain will be in our favor,” Ewen said.

  “Ewen, you’ve said we’ll train humans to lead these attacks. In effect, they’ll play at being Dawn Children. What part will we play?” Maccrea asked.

  “Humans are a young race,” Ewen answered. “They’ll need our wisdom, our patience and I assure you, there’ll be enough opportunities to gain honor in battle. So much so, we’ll be sick of it before the war is over.” Ewen paused, glanced to the window then back at those gathered around the table. “I know it’s distasteful. But I believe this approach will work. Does anyone have any other suggestions?”

  “There’s wisdom in applying human tactics against humans.” Manu met the gazes of the others around the table. “We’re an old race, slow to adapt. Perhaps some changes could be a good thing. I find this strategy personally offensive. However, I see the need for it. I’ll not dissent.”

  The room was silent. Manu’s words held his wisdom’s weight and experience. Ewen waited. Around the table, each of the council inclined his head to their Riege.

  Sheenan took a deep breath. All gazes rested on him. He shook his head. “I’ll not dissent. I haven’t a better plan.”

  Ewen tapped his fingers against the table. “Very well then, I’ll inform Ryliann.”

  The words dissipated the tension in the room like fog beneath the sun. Stern countenances melted into comfortable expressions of friendship.

  Ewen regained his seat. “Now, Ilythra. You said you contacted the traders. They will act as our messengers?”

  “Yes. In a limited capacity. Their creed forbids the taking up of arms against any one lord but they agreed that Anatar is at risk. They will cooperate only so long as they feel that is the case.”

  “Then let’s hope that’s long enough to find and stop Bredych.”

  * * *

  Ilythra examined the humans lined up before her. Each man stood straight, eyes ahead, but she sensed a mixture of unease and arrogance. She’d bet her horse they’d never been instructed by a woman. But could she blame them? These were men raised to believe a woman couldn’t be a warrior, let alone teach one. She hid a smile. Ryliann moved by her side close enough that his warmth brushed her skin. She flinched.

  “Let’s get started.” Ilythra breathed and stepped away.

  “Very well.” Ryliann cleared his throat and introduced the men to Ilythra. Each, without exception, bowed as his name was announced.

  She kept her voice firm. The key to training these men would be making sure they respected her. It started now. She raised her chin. “It isn’t necessary for you to bow. I’m not royalty,” Ilythra said. “That said—”

  “They merely want to honor you, Lady Ilythra,” Ryliann stated. “But if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll instruct them in the matter.”

  Ilythra clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. Maybe the first thing to do would be to get rid of the prince. She turned to him. His eyes were green this morning. She blinked. “No thank you. I am here to instruct them. You may leave.”

  The prince’s
mouth opened. She turned back toward the men who were staring at her with a mixture of horror and amusement. She bet the prince had never been spoken to that way either.

  “I would rather stay.”

  She didn’t turn. “Then remain silent. Who here is familiar with Shi’ia?” she asked the men.

  One man down on the end raised his hand.

  She walked toward him. “What do you know about it?”

  “Only that it’s an ancient form of sword craft. More like dancing than fighting really.”

  “Not so ancient.” She smiled. Nothing human seemed ancient since she’d lived with the Dawn Children. “But a lost art nonetheless. One I will teach to you.”

  One man scoffed. “I don’t need to learn to dance. Don’t need to learn to use a sword neither.”

  She heard Ryliann take a step forward and turned to spear him with her sternest look. He held up his hands in surrender. She faced the group. “Who is the best swordsman here?”

  Half the men pointed to Ryliann. She looked at the prince, who smiled.

  Ilythra glanced down at the ground to hide her own smile. Maybe the prince would be useful after all. She drew her sword. “Attack me.”

  His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “I can’t.”

  “You can and you’d better.”

  “But...”

  She took a step closer to the prince. His scent invaded her senses. “How do you expect your men to respect me,” she whispered into his ear, “if you don’t?” She backed up and tapped him on the thigh with the flat of her blade. “Pick up your sword unless you’re afraid of being beaten by a woman.”

  Ryliann drew his sword. His eyes were still uneasy but he had a good stance. They raised their swords and circled each other twice. The prince moved well with an easy grace. She moved in, smacked his upper arm with the side of her blade and ducked away. He turned, astonishment on his face. He swung halfheartedly. He was still unwilling to fight her. She blocked his strike, cartwheeled behind him and smacked the back of his knee with the sword’s pummel.

  Ryliann dropped to his knees. Faster than she suspected, he whirled. Ilythra smiled and blocked his thrust easily.

  “You’re done playing now?” she asked.

  “I’m not in the habit of fighting women,” Ryliann said.

  “Then you’d better be prepared to lose badly.” She slid her blade up his wider weapon until they were hilt to hilt. It was dangerous; up close, he could use his strength against her. She wanted him to take his advantage. He didn’t. She cursed, twisted her sword, and Ryliann’s sailed from his grasp. She flew into the prince feet first. His breath huffed out as he hit the ground hard. She stood, staring down at him. He blinked and his throat moved under the point of her blade.

  “You had the advantage. Why didn’t you take it?”

  “Because—”

  She shook her head. “And now you’re dead, and who will lead the men you leave behind?” She stepped over his body and sheathed her sword. “I’m not going to tell you how many battles I’ve been in or how many people I’ve killed.” She faced Ryliann’s men, ignoring the prince. “I will tell you Shi’ia was my life since I was big enough to hold a sword. It’s not about dancing. It’s about moving so quickly in such a practiced way that your enemy’s sword can’t find you.”

  “You will teach us to do that?” One of the men gestured toward where the prince now stood.

  “I can’t teach you that in the time we have. But I will teach you as much as you’re willing to learn.” She stared pointedly at Ryliann.

  “We’re gonna learn bows too,” another man said.

  She nodded.

  “Are you as good with them?” he asked.

  Ilythra smiled. “Better.”

  * * *

  Ilythra approached the warriors, correcting a stance or an aim. She paused before one man, watching as he notched his arrow. There was something in his stance that caught her eye. He took aim and released the arrow. It hit the target’s edge, which sat a hundred wheels away. He seemed to be pleased with himself.

  Ilythra sighed. “What’s your name?”

  “Rican, m-my lady,” he stuttered.

  “Rican, may I have your bow?”

  He handed her the weapon. She swung it up, reached for an arrow, paused and released. The arrow arched and hit the center of the mark. Rican gazed at her with something akin to awe.

  “Now, Rican, I’ll show you how to do that.” She handed him back his bow, which he took without saying a word. “Withdraw an arrow and notch it,” she commanded. The man obeyed her.

  “Don’t move,” she continued, walking behind him. She reached her arms around his torso. Leaning forward, she gently adjusted his elbow and shoulder. “Now sight your target.” The man moved the bow a notch. “No, not yet,” she admonished, then placed her hand over his on the bow and adjusted it slightly, sighting down his arm.

  “Now look,” she said as her breath brushed his cheek. “Do you see it now?” At his nod, she breathed, “release.”

  Rican let the arrow fly and it hit near the target’s center.

  Ilythra stepped back. “Better.” She smiled. “Remember the arrow will arch, so you must compensate with your aim. Before long it’ll become second nature.”

  Rican turned around, joyful surprise on his face.

  “Now do it again,” she said, turning to find every eye on her and Rican.

  “Um, will you show me next?” the man next to her asked, his eyes hungry.

  “I think I need some help too,” another joined in.

  Ilythra opened her mouth to respond when Ryliann moved between her and the warriors.

  “I think the men could use a break,” he said.

  Irritation prickled her skin. She took a deep breath. “We’ve just started, Prince Ryliann. Do your men tire so easily?”

  Ryliann glanced toward his men then back at her. He gestured at the clearing’s edge and swept his arm. Ilythra walked a short distance from the men. With every step, she became angrier. What did he think he was doing? He had no idea what his men would be up against. They were young, immature. If they could not master their thoughts enough to stay focused, then all hope of winning this war was lost.

  She concentrated on Ryliann’s back as he moved before her. Why was he so arrogant? And why are you so irate? The thought went unanswered.

  “Ilythra, you don’t understand. My men...” His placating voice was her undoing.

  “I’ll stop you now, Prince. I do understand. I’m no fresh-faced girl with stars in her eyes. Your men lack discipline. It’s my job to teach them.” She glanced at the men then back to the prince. “If you’d like to speak of my methods further, we can select a more appropriate time and place.” She kept her voice crisp, cool in an attempt to mask the heat radiating from her anger.

  Ryliann opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it.

  “One of the first strengths the Dawn Child learns is to follow a command,” Ilythra stated, anger pulsing in her veins. “If you don’t start trusting me to teach your men, if they sense that their leader and teacher are not in agreement, they will not give their all. Stop interfering, or your men will not learn and they will die.”

  Ryliann stood still as a statue, matching Ilythra’s gaze. He bowed. “You’re correct, my lady. But I would have you remember, I’m not one of the Dawn Children.” He held her gaze for a moment and moved to obey her command.

  Ilythra watched him make his way back to his men. He would either learn to respect or hate her. She decided not to wonder why it mattered so much to her.

  * * *

  Ilythra opened her eyes and sat up, gasping for air, but the images of her dream continued to replay against the darkness. Her heartbeat quickened and she fought disorientation. She
took a deep breath. She was in the room in the human village. Her heart would not stop its rapid staccato.

  Maelys. Something... She struggled to remember the dream. Maelys had taken her in shortly after she’d arrived on the mainland. The healer had risked all to teach her about Teann and send her toward the Dawn Children. Ilythra stretched out a hand. It wasn’t a nightmare. It had been real. Maelys, tied up and bloody in a stone room. Bredych smiling. Bile rose in her throat. It was her fault.

  The darkness around her grew weight, pressing down, suffocating. Bredych had Maelys. How? Why? But she knew. She blinked rapidly until the forms of her room once again solidified, but the weight had settled over her head, clawing at her throat, threatening to steal her breath. She struggled to draw air into her body. He wanted her to come to him. Her eyes burned so hot and dry she couldn’t even fall into the relief tears would bring.

  She stood and rushed to the bowl near the water pitcher and dry-retched several times. Bredych had Maelys. She reached for her sword. Dread coursed through her veins until her arms and legs burned with it. He had Maelys. No matter how many times she said it, it didn’t relieve the horror.

  “I have a guest with whom you might be acquainted.” The words soured her stomach as they had the first time Bredych had spoken them in her dream. The image of Maelys tied naked to a chair, her skin bruised and mottled, wouldn’t leave.

  “You and I can put an end to all this horror. It’s quite simple. Come to me. You know where to find me.”

  A sob broke from her throat, dry and brittle. She couldn’t go. She couldn’t rescue her friend. Not when going would mean her sure death. The death of others. It was a trap. But it’s Maelys. What if Ilythra left Ilydearta in Dawn Children lands? “Oh, gods.”

  “Fault? You speak as a fool. Blame will only distract you. It is a luxury you can’t afford. That distraction is more dangerous than you know. You have much to learn, and I think not much time.” She could almost hear Maelys’s voice reprimand her when she’d blamed herself for the attack on Tyrol and Nolwen and Pierric’s death.

  Everyone she’d ever loved, ever befriended was at risk.