Warlord

by Katy Winter

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Nearly a season after their arrival in the fishing village, the scholar told Chlorien they were to leave. She looked up, surprised yet resigned. She sighed.

  "Yes, child, I know," said the scholar. "You feel at ease here, don't you, lad?" Chlorien nodded. "And it's the longest stop you've had." Autoc put his arm about her and gave her a hug. "It's time to move again." He turned and left her staring out to sea.

  The scholar felt regret at their leaving because he knew Chlorien was happy in this tiny village. It showed in the bright eyes and laughing countenance. He watched as she joined the other children as they laughed and chattered, spreading out damaged nets to be dried and then mended. She helped pull boats full of fish ashore and was shown, in only a short interval of time, how to fix rent nets, stitch sails and harvest shoals close to shore.

  Though the language these Sindabars spoke was a dialect Chlorien found this no handicap, the girl communicating easily by hand gestures and expressions. The scholar smiled at her antics with the boys in the sea, her breeches rolled up and her feet kicking as vigorously as theirs. He saw the rough and tumbles on dry land too and neither he nor Jaim missed the sidelong looks Chlorien got from girls her own age. She made a very pretty boy and no one, the scholar reflected, guessed she wasn't a lad.

  The next morning Chlorien trotted outside to join her friends as usual, while the scholar and Jaim lingered over an early meal. When he'd finished, Autoc rose and strolled outside, in a leisurely way, to see Chlorien hard at work hauling in a boat with four other boys. He called her and beckoned, saw her gesture to the boys and then turn. When she reached the scholar he saw the flicker of disappointment flit across her face.

  "Aye, little one, it's time." Chlorien looked up with a smile wavering on her lips.

  "I have to go, Father, don't I?" Autoc nodded, his hand going to the curly head. "When do we leave?"

  "Now, child." A small sigh escaped Chlorien. "Jaim's coming with us," the scholar added.

  "Oh?" Chlorien's look of astonishment made Autoc laugh.

  "He's travelling in our direction, so I've asked him to accompany us. You aren't objecting, lad, are you?" Chlorien blushed.

  "No, Father, of course not. He'll be welcome company."

  "If we meet anyone, he's your imaginary mother's older brother, by the way." He heard the stifled giggle and grinned. "Get along, and bustle about. Help Jaim in whatever way you can. You'll have to ride with me until we can acquire another horse. But before you do all this, go along to the widow. She's been kind to you and losing her son was very tough. She misses having a man and boy about to help her with hard work. Say goodbye from me, too, and pass on my thanks for all her help."

  They left a little after full sun, many from the village gathered to see them go. Jaim's house was shuttered, but the village elder promised it'd be ready for the wanderer's return, if and when he wanted it. Jaim doffed his peaked cap as he rode out. Autoc followed, with Chlorien relaxed back against him. As they rode, the sun made her drowsy and to the scholar's amusement she fell limply hard against him, her eyes firmly closed. He looked down at her, then across at Jaim, who regarded them both, a droll expression on his face.

  They moved steadily south from the coast because Jaim had already warned Autoc of vast marshes and an inland sea that would pose problems. The scholar was reluctant to go south, because he knew Queeb and Ohb had left Stanas not long before and would be, he reasoned, making their way slightly west before they made an abrupt turn north. Resigned to an inevitable meeting, he followed Jaim's advice. The latter proved to be accurate. As they rode they found, to their right, they skirted the fringes of wet marshland that stretched beyond the line of sight. There was no way they could have gone through it.

  Chlorien discovered that Jaim was an excellent cook and since he enjoyed doing it, it relieved Autoc who found it a necessary chore. The scholar admitted, one evening as they sat quietly near a small fire, that he hated to cook. Tonight was sultry and still and the scholar felt distinctly indolent. He stretched languorously.

  "Your food, Jaim, is excellent. We're so glad you chose to accompany us."

  Jaim, who lay back contemplating an insect that hovered over his head, gave a deep chuckle.

  "Your cooking, Schol, is merely adequate," he teased. He stretched out and prodded Chlorien who lay on her stomach with her chin resting in her hands. "Isn't it, lad?" This made her giggle and call to Autoc.

  In answer, Autoc got to his feet and spread his arms. There was a faint distortion in the air before the two on the ground saw the mage become a harper and spread his wings above them. He circled lazily.

  "Come, child," he sent quietly.

  Jaim went still, watching as the boy became insubstantial. He stared at the blue-plumaged larkbill that suddenly hovered above him, gently fluttering its wings, before it flew off quickly to join the very much larger harper that flew overhead. He watched as the two birds faded into the distance, then lounged back on his elbows lost in thought.

  Autoc took Chlorien on a longer flight than usual. He veered northwest in a path that took them directly across the marshes and inland sea they'd both been told about. The area was vast and the scholar could understand how very treacherous it would be for unwary travellers.

  He kept his mind closely linked to Chlorien's, reminding her constantly of her use of currents and tail feathers. He wheeled and dipped, instructing her to do likewise. When he glided, so did she. He dived, and, almost unbelieving she could do so, she followed, levelling out just below him. The longer she flew, the more she exulted in the freedom she knew up in the air.

  "Keep in balance, little one," she was exhorted when she became too confident or relaxed.

  Autoc kept her busy for over an hour, encouraging and supporting her, then, as she tired, she heard the scholar call, "Descend, child. Follow me."

  She tried to copy him exactly, but made a rather clumsy landing, slipping down hard on one wing. She righted herself but it hurt. To her surprise, she heard the scholar again.

  "Listen to me. This is something you've never done before, but I'd like you to make the effort. Little one, I want you to translate your larkbill form directly into that of a female canas. You know what I want, don't you?" There was a trace of nervousness in the response.

  "Yes, Father."

  "Remember to visualise, child, and let yourself see and feel, before you ease from one form to the other. Let the images in your mind flow into one another. Follow me as I go and don't linger. Are you ready, little one?"

  "Yes."

  The harper lost its plumage, shimmered and shivered. When the image settled, a huge black canas, with a heavy pelt, stood in its place panting gently in the heat. Seconds later, the larkbill wavered and slipped from focus. A smaller, gray canas partly materialised, shimmered, then strengthened to hold steady, the violet eyes apprehensive.

  "Well done, little one," came the soft words in her mind. "That was a difficult thing to do and you did it more easily than I expected. How do you feel?"

  "Hot," was the reply, as Chlorien remembered she had to open her mouth to pant.

  "You have a very heavy coat, child. Let your mind mesh with the form you wear. You mustn't lose yourself to it, but must join this shape if you wish to use it. Let yourself go, Chlorien. I'm always here to watch and guide you."

  With difficulty and struggling against it instinctively, Chlorien gradually had the courage to do as the scholar suggested. She became aware of a long sinuous body, a bushy tail that swept the ground and four large paws. She was a little stiff in one front paw and recognised that was because she'd stumbled on landing. She wiffled her nose to scent the air and knew her hearing was acute, though she saw things differently and less distinctly. She knew she'd rely mostly on smell and hearing. Without being conscious of it, she flicked her ears forward and lashed her tail. She raised her head to see the big black canas eye her, his lips briefly drawn back before he turned and began to lope away.
>
  Instinctively, she ran after him, trying to keep up. They alternately ran and walked for miles, first to the marshlands, and then the scholar turned inland where scrubland gave way to denser undergrowth. Chlorien ran with him through small brakes of greenwoods and then lolloped after the powerful black as he passed through thick coppices of spindly half-grown trees.

  It was into one of these that the two canas finally ran and came to a halt. The first in was the black, who turned with saliva dripping from his jaws and his flanks heaving with exertion. The smaller gray's run had floundered to a limping walk by the time she reached the black. Whimpering, she lay next to him.

  Very gently the black licked the gray's head, their eyes meeting when they nosed each other every so often. Then the black sank down beside her, his larger bulk protectively flanking her. While she still lay panting the black put his head between enormous paws, his blue eyes shrewd and perceptive.

  They stayed unmoving until they got their breath back and, even then, neither made any effort to rise. There was a marked degree of contentment about each animal as they lay, heads rested on paws and eyes closed. The little gray edged her shoulders even closer to the male and let her head fall to one of his paws, the look down at her from the black, enigmatic. He didn't dislodge her.

  Only slowly did Chlorien become aware of the voice in her mind that called persistently. She lifted her furry head, her violet eyes snapping open. She was instantly alert. She gave a small warning growl.

  "Chlorien, come back, child." With an effort, Chlorien responded.

  "Father, I hear you." She saw she was alone.

  "Bring yourself back, child. You're letting yourself be swamped. Strive for balance, little one."

  Chlorien struggled to assert herself. When she did, her canas form shimmered and faded and she found she was kneeling on all fours, her head raised in a threatening gesture. Beyond her the scholar lounged back against a sapling, his eyes surveying her with gentle mockery. She felt momentarily disoriented.

  "Welcome back, little one," he greeted her quietly. Quickly, Chlorien fell back on to her side, her head rested on an arm. "What did you learn from that, lad?"

  Chlorien looked up at that, her big eyes expressive. She saw the scholar smile at her without any trace of mockery and he looked calm and at ease.

  "Much," she whispered. "I stayed too long. I'm unbalanced."

  "Good," said the scholar softly, patting the ground beside him. Chlorien scrambled over to sit against the tree, feeling, as she slid down, the scholar's arm hold her firmly. His free hand lifted her chin so she looked up at him. "Tell me," he said gently, "what you just learned."

  It was hours after dark, when a larkbill settled quietly next to Jaim. The harper landed close by. Autoc took Chlorien by the hand and led her to a thin groundmat. She sank onto it and barely noticed he calmly covered her with blankets. She was already deeply asleep. Autoc strode back to where the fire had been and lounged down, his pipe to his mouth.

  "That was a long lesson for the lad," came a quiet, deep voice beside him.

  "Aye," agreed the scholar, puffing gently. "And an instructive one, too."

  ~~~

  Chlorien's lessons in translation, survival and balance gained momentum. Autoc took her out every evening now Jaim was with them to ensure all was well. She was made to learn everything as an instinct. The scholar refused to let her respond in any other way. She learned to hunt and to kill in the two forms she used most often, the larkbill or the canas. Sometimes those were the only meals she was permitted to have; when she was hungry she found she could despatch prey without a second thought, tearing into her kill without a qualm. As a young canas, however, she'd have to sit respectfully back to allow the big black to eat first. She'd sit hungrily watching, licking her lips.

  They travelled longer and farther too, especially as canas. Chlorien saw a pack one evening, but they were at a distance so she didn't sight them for long. It was to them that the scholar finally took her. The pack was well south of the marshes and not so very far from where she knew Jaim had set up a temporary camp.

  Her initiation into the pack consisted of rough buffets, cuffs and bites that were not mere nips. She was thoroughly sniffed and learned the displays of submission and inferiority very quickly. As a cub in a fierce and matriarchal society, her survival was a delicate thing. Her father gave her no help, melting into the pack and often wandering off alone.

  Chlorien was alone with cubs both younger and older. She found she was adopted by a very large female who treated her as if she was indeed her own cub: she was rasped with a strong tongue and shaken very hard by the scruff of her neck if she wasn't submissive. Young males sniffed her rear interestedly and pushed her interrogatively, their tongues licking at her in a most disconcerting way that she had to become used to and tolerate.

  She had to lie submissively when she was groomed, a huge and heavy paw draped across her that held her still. She learned that a twitch or movement at the wrong time could be painful; when she erred, she was very thoroughly chastised. She slunk away, her tail well down between her legs, licking at bites and feeling slightly sick from the cuffings she endured. In time she learned her place and how best to defend herself. She'd fall obsequiously onto her back with her feet in the air, where she'd lie submissively with her throat held in the firm grip of one more dominant than herself. She learned, too, to ingratiate herself, especially when she was hungry.

  Placatory behaviour was something new to Chlorien. It took her over ten days to realise that she couldn't respond to the pack as she expected and with Ambrosian values and attitudes. She stopped fighting. With her acceptance came full understanding and respect. She recognised body language and passively acknowledged her place in the pack hierarchy as a subservient cub. When she did this, the swipes, growls and bites abated. She even discovered she was senior to others who had to be submissive to her.

  Her weeks with the pack were valuable, the lessons hard learned and memorable. She learned what hunger really meant. She also had the beginning of understanding what survival was and how important the unity of a tightly knit community was in ensuring it. Being a wild animal in a hostile environment was an alien concept to Chlorien, but it would help her when she would be alone. She learned other lessons as well, dependence sometimes tempered with self-reliance when required, and control and appropriateness of will. She gained inner strength to cope with fear, adversity and the unexpected. She learned that freedom had costs, and that, in the scheme of things, she mattered very little. The lesson of what sacrifice could mean would come later, but to help her confront that, she developed mental toughness and resilience.

  Though Chlorien and the scholar translated regularly during the weeks that followed, being with the pack was the climax of translation. She could now slip in and out of forms without really thinking about it. It came as easily to her as breathing. She learned to balance herself in whatever form she took, and there were many of those as she travelled with the scholar of an evening. She always, though, came back to the grey canas and the little blue larkbill. In these she felt at her most comfortable.

  By now they'd passed the southernmost point of the marshes and the inland sea and rode hard northwest, Chlorien riding sometimes with Jaim or at other times with Autoc. The land became stony and barren with little shelter. Though it was only early autumn, the winds blew cool at night.

  Autoc and Jaim agreed they'd have to stop briefly at the next town they came to, because north was the desert. They were very low on supplies. Not only that, they had no adequate clothing for desert travel. Jaim suggested they veer west so that they could ride into Sadekak, a desert town of some wealth because it was a main trading centre on the south-west trading route. After four days, the travellers approached the gates of the walled town of Sadekak. It was late afternoon when they rode through the gates, all three aware of the hard stares that followed them.

  The houses were multi-storied, jammed close to one another and made of so
me sort of mud-brick, but without windows facing the narrow cobbled streets. All doors were bolted both inside and out. The town had a furtive and secretive feel about it that Chlorien didn't like, and though the streets were reasonably clean, the inhabitants were unfriendly. Immediately, the scholar decided they'd be gone come early morning as soon as the gates were reopened. He guessed they shut very late at night to allow late caravans through. They found an inn quite quickly. The men decided they'd all share one room. The landlord stared at them with small, interrogative eyes.

  "You'll still pay for the rooming of three," he said, spitting heartily on the mat at their feet.

  Chlorien took a step back. The scholar nodded, so the landlord shrugged and showed them upstairs. Once settled in, the scholar ordered Chlorien to stay with Jaim while he went out to buy another horse.

  "Although you're growing fast, child," he explained, "the horse I'll get you will be a mite smaller so you can ride more comfortably."

  "I'll be safer with you," argued Chlorien, glancing doubtfully at the old man next to her. Autoc saw her look askance at Jaim and the oddest smile curled his mouth.

  "Nevertheless, lad, you'll stay. Is that understood?"

  "Aye, Father," she answered, throwing herself face down on the bed. The two men exchanged amused glances, before Autoc left the room.

  He had no trouble finding another horse and money was no object. He haggled affably, knowing in the end he was cheated. He left the trader, led the horse that was smaller than the two they already had, and, walking at a brisk pace through the crowded markets thought it might be sensible to arm himself in a country as inhospitable as northern Sindabar - nor did he want either himself or Jaim to look too easy as targets the further north they travelled. He knew the desert tribesmen were fierce and felt any precaution was wise. He then set out to look for clothing and food supplies.