The Gantlet

by Linda L. Dunlap

  Eliandor had seen it coming, but he had not been shown the end of the night’s battle, nor had he anticipated Yahmara’s escape. He shuddered for a moment as he realized her last words were prophecy. It had not ended. He knew the Old Ones had chosen the girl to interrupt destiny. What had been and would be were no longer true, for the ancients had far-seeing eyes, and knew what would come. The battle was temporarily won, but with the escape of Yahmara, he knew it was only a matter of time before it began again, for the next time she would be better prepared. They could only surprise her once.

  The coven of Parth was destroyed that night as the followers lay dying or dead, their persons no longer a menace to the world. The Not-So-Bad Ones, as Elida had named them, were gone from that part of the world. Eliandor found wagons to tie the survivors for transport to the Cave of Burbary, a place where enemies of the Creator were held until rehabilitated. He knew the way well, for during his abundance of years, the councilor, as law enforcer, had taken many offenders there.

  27.

  They talked until the night was over, all of them, including Rand’s friends. They grieved for their lost companions, but they also celebrated the victory. Each person who’d fought the battle believed they had been justified. They were sad for their losses and angry because the witch had escaped, but each who had participated felt glad they had thwarted evil plans to sacrifice a human child.

  Breanna told of her trip on the Phoebus, and of Tom and his ultimate kindness. She spoke of the Vale family with affection, and told how she, her adopted brother, and the girl Elida had run from the witches’ spells. She told of what they had seen and done, and how much her companions meant to her. She also remembered to tell her mother of faithful Willene and her mate, who died at the farmhouse.

  Mathena was overjoyed to see the mature girl standing before her, her features older, but the same. Yet she was much more, for sadness and death had influenced her character and given her wisdom. Mathena said a prayer of thanks her daughter was alive and well.

  Elida slept on. The potions given by Eliandor had not yet awakened her.

  Rand was in awe of Eliandor, for he had never known anyone like him. The smooth skin and firm muscles belied his age, which was never told, but only assumed. The curse of the elves was their long life. Rand watched him and detected a certain amount of stiffness in his movements, a slowness that the passage of time had inflicted.

  Knowing Breanna would live long after he was gone from the world saddened Rand, but he would take the life he had been given and continue his job as captain of the Mede Truheart. His free time had come to an end, and he was reluctant to tell her he was leaving. A ship docking in Tick at sunrise would take him by way of Vadar, where he would resume his job. Several of the men who fought in the battle were injured, and their wounds might make life more uncomfortable as they shinnied up the masts, repairing the ship’s sails, but he could imagine the stories that would be told aboard the ship, of the fighting with women in black.

  Those who had not been there would scoff, “Women!”

  Since Tom had nowhere important to go after the battle, when Breanna asked him to tag along with her and her family, he felt privileged, and agreed. With his considerable talents, he had no doubt he could make himself useful at Haven Pentara.

  The seven sisters would return to Nore Mountain and their families, leaving Breanna with her grandfather. An invitation from Eliandor to rejoin their tribal family remained as a consideration, and there were other Qays in the hollow tree back home who would be interested.

  The thought of other children was exciting to the seven, for at the haven, there was no limitation on births. The forest was huge and the living quarters spacious, presenting opportunities for family expansion. Mathena blushed, knowing she and Lyman would consider it well.

  They left the hamlet at dawn after using their considerable abilities to clear the grounds of bodies before the villagers returned, ready to rebuild their cottages. The people seemed dazed, and had forgotten their dance around the fire the night before. Not remembering the horrors they had seen committed on others was a blessing. Miralda placed a happiness spell on the hamlet to get them through the days of cleanup and rebuilding. The night before her party left, she captured two errant mordants and squeezed the life from them, leaving them as hollow shells, their ashes blending with lye in the fire pits. She hoped the villagers couldn’t tell the difference.

  While the others were readying themselves to leave, Breanna took a moment to speak to Rand, already seeing him as the ship’s captain again. She was heartbroken that he had to go, but she had known it was going to happen. He called to her and asked if she would walk with him for a moment and say goodbye.

  “I’ll think of you as I sail the Qadra,” he said, as they walked along.

  “And I’ll think of you. You’ll have such grand adventures. I liked the sea,” she added wistfully.

  “What will you do now? Will you stay at Haven Pentara or return to your home?”

  “If my grandfather allows it, I will stay with him and learn what he has to teach me. There are also many of my family I want to meet.”

  “May I come and visit you when my ship is docked?” he asked hesitantly.

  She looked at him with eyes shining. “Oh, I so hoped you would ask.”

  “I will visit, then—of course, with your grandfather’s permission. If he says yes, I’ll come soon.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders, and they walked back to the cart, each hoping they would cross one another’s path again.

  Eliandor studied them from afar, his worry causing a frown. He had seen the young man in Breanna’s future, and what he saw was terrible and filled with despair. As yet there was no explanation, but the outcome was definite. Breanna would be devastated. He considered denying the visit, but that would be rude behavior without good reason. At least there, Eliandor could keep his eyes upon the young captain.

  The councilor brooded a while, his heart troubled more than a little. The true battle had not come, for the Spectre deserted his abbess in the hour of her need, else the ending might have been quite different. We have respite now, he thought, and it is time to relax and enjoy our kin. We will fight again on the morrow, but today we celebrate.

  The forest greeted Breanna with its swaying limbs, great canopied tops, and walkways filled with wildflowers of every genus in the world. Even Nore Mountain in the spring couldn’t match the glorious beauty of Haven Pentara. Her spirit was soothed watching Illene Falls and the arc of light above it. She wondered if the idyllic scene would ever seem commonplace.

  Eliandor enjoyed observing his granddaughter as she saw her family home for the first time. The joy of being with his estranged kin brought the bitterness of his early decisions to mind, a taste in his mouth of regret and self-chastisement. For now, he thought, I will find a way to make things right.

  The trip home was eventful as the seven questioned Breanna about her memories, and the knowledge she had pulled from them. Eliandor had cautioned them against mentioning the ancients’ power until he had ample time to devise a potion to fight against the pain it caused. He believed there might be harm if Breanna knew everything too early. As long as the memories were available to her, she would have no need for a further search for power.

  The small girl they carried in the cart continued in her sleep trance, never waking, not even for a moment. Eliandor was not concerned, for those caring for the child fed her faithfully, and took great pains with her person. Her time to waken would be when her mind had healed.

  His granddaughter, Mathena, lost lines from her face when she finally saw Breanna alive and well. After the tears were dried, she learned some of the girl’s history and the truth of her abduction.

  Breanna was quick, her memory perfect, for she never forgot what she had learned. Eliandor was reminded of her grandmother, Illene. She too had perfect memory retention, as some elves did, and it had saved them heartbreak over their lifetimes.

  Wh
en they rode into the forest, Eliandor’s beloved mate appeared before his eyes, her face as youthful as any in his party, and he recalled the great love they had shared their long lives. Of course they had disagreements. The poor decision he had made when the people of his race married into the family of men and he insisted the couples leave with their children almost broke Illene’s heart. His pride had made him stubborn, and he had gone against her wishes. She refused to speak to him for many seasons afterward, choosing rather to ignore his hurt looks and attempts at conversation.

  Now he was bringing part of her family back, and he could hardly wait to touch her lovely face. The Mist River still flowed as though he had never left. The easy-rolling river brought peace to his troubled thoughts and soothed his weary frame. The years had been kind to Eliandor, as his body’s life renewed itself each century, but still, he felt the passage of time more and more in the joining of his bones. This trip in particular had taken its toll on him in many ways. He wished for the rejuvenation of the river’s current, and was impatient to recapture the flexibility of his youth in the spelled waters.

  “Grandfather,” Breanna said, interrupting his thoughts, “are you sure my friends and I can stay in this beautiful place? We can be on our way as soon as Elida is well, if you would have us go.”

  “Child,” Eliandor said, sighing with the weight of memory, “I want all of you to stay and live with us in the haven. Your friends can find a home here if they choose. Tom is a good man, and I look forward to having conversations with him for a long time. From what you have told me of the healing, he now has elven regenerative powers, and may be with us into the next century or much longer. Do you think your friends can adjust to our ways?”

  “I don’t know, Grandfather,” she replied. “They must decide for themselves.”

  Breanna was excited by the large groups of people waiting to meet them; some were family who might also become her friends. Sean rode alongside her, examining the new scenery.

  “How are you, Sean?” she asked, giving him a smile. She hoped he was excited by the haven.

  “I’m a’right. Wishing I could have gone with Rand.”

  “Maybe when you’re older, he will take you on as helper.”

  “Aye, that’s what I’m hoping. Guess I can get some growing done here, maybe get strong like him.”

  She daydreamed a minute, thinking of the captain. “You’ve thought about it some, I see.”

  Changing the subject, Breanna eyed the boy’s long legs in the saddle. “You sit a horse well, Sean.”

  He blushed and nodded his thanks for the compliment.

  “Have you seen Elida today?” she asked, knowing he’d spent hours with his sister, hoping she might awaken.

  “Aye, she’s about the same. Your mam said these things take time, and it might be a while, or even tomorrow when she comes out of it.”

  “Grandfather believes she is healing, and I trust him to say the truth,” Breanna replied.

  “You like him a lot, don’t you, Bree?”

  “Yes, I do. He risked his life to save me. I can’t forget that.”

  “You like Rand a lot too. Don’t you?”

  It was Breanna’s turn to blush. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “That’s a’right. I like him too. Someday I hope to be ship’s captain like him. Maybe find a pretty girl like you,” Sean said, with a thoughtful expression. The long blond hair beneath his cap had darkened some since their departure from Weir. Breanna looked the boy over, surprised at how tall he’d grown. His talk of finding a pretty girl was to be expected at his age, as many young men had betrothals at his age.

  “Sean! Do you really think I’m pretty?” she asked, wondering how anyone could think she was pretty, with red hair, and freckles on her nose.

  “Uh-huh. But you’re like my sister, so I don’t think on it much.”

  “That was nice to hear,” she said, and clicked her tongue to the horse, as she turned and pulled it back toward the cart. “I’m going to see Elida.”

  “A’right. I hope she wakes up soon.”

  “Me too, Sean. Me too,” Breanna said from behind him. She tied her horse to the side of the cart and jumped inside to see her young, sick friend. The driver’s seat of the cart was filled by Tom, who felt better about life when he was managing an oxcart.

  “Tom,” Breanna said, “any change in Elida?”

  “No, lass, none a’tall. She sleeps on,” her old friend said with a puff from his pipe.

  “We should be near the center of the wood soon. Grandfather said it would take several hours to get to the haven after we first arrived in Pentara.”

  “Aye, girl, there’s trees with creatures hiding. Long-legged hairy things, screeching at folks driving by. Won’t hurt me feelings when we get to where we’re going.”

  “I saw those. Grandfather said they are harmless. He called them Fruit Babies. They will warn us if anyone appears behind us.”

  “Well, that’s comforting to know,” Tom replied.

  “I’m tired of riding too,” Breanna admitted. “I wish my mother had come with us. She expects to return in a short while, but I miss her.”

  “Aye, I noticed when their horses took the other road, they were a sad lot. Time passes fast, lass. She’ll be back before you know it.”

  They arrived at Pentara Haven the next day, weary of the road and ready to get into the pool beneath the falls. But first, Eliandor insisted on showing them his home. The portals of the haven hid the secrets of the elves, obscuring long, inclined hallways leading into large rooms. The staircases rose in layers, farther and farther from the ground, gently reclining as they went higher, belying the structure’s great distance above the Mist River. The trees of the forest there were larger, more luxurious, and canopied, shading all who entered the protected wood.

  Beyond that section of the forest, the land was cleared, presenting the gardens where elves worked to sustain themselves with grains and vegetables. They didn’t eat fish or meat, except in those times when the ground refused to produce the crops they needed for food, or, on long journeys when their preferred food was scarce. Elves required very little except oxygen, pure water, and grains.

  Breanna was given a tour of the gardens, and she found them to be much like Tribe Qay’s lush fields back home. For a while she was sad, missing her parents as she had when the Phoebus carried her away. Her comfort came from knowing they would soon return.

  If only Elida would awaken. Sean is distraught that his sister sleeps on. And I can’t help but wonder if we arrived too late to save her.

  It was easy to doubt after all that had happened. The what-ifs came every night before sleep.

  Illene saw the worry on her granddaughter’s face, and wished she could remove the burden the girl carried. Living a long life had taught her that each person must go through his share of recrimination for bad judgment, and if Breanna believed herself to be in error, she would suffer for her decisions.

  Two days later, after breakfast, Sean’s boot heels could be heard throughout the corridors and rooms of the haven.

  “She’s awake, she’s awake! My sister is awake,” he screamed for all to hear.

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” Breanna said, putting her slippers on. “What a joyful day! We must go to her.”

  The sick room where Elida sat up in bed had windows opened to the early morning breeze. Her yellow hair was caught by the wind and blew across her pale cheeks, but she expressed no sign of recognition as Breanna squatted on the floor and looked upon her face.

  “Elida, it is good to see you awake. We have been so worried about you,” Breanna said.

  “Aye,” echoed Sean. “Every day we came in and talked to you, but you didn’t wake up. Are you hurting anywhere?”

  By this time, Eliandor and Illene were standing in the doorway smiling. It was a wonderful occasion, for both of them had used their skills to bring the child back.

  Elida’s brown eyes were opened wide, and she appeared afraid as
they all talked. It was plain to Illene that the little girl was in distress.

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just feel better. Soon you’ll be able to be with your brother and Breanna,” Illene said from across the room.

  “Who…are you? All of you. I don’t remember any of you. Please go away,” Elida said, crying. “Leave me alone.”

  “But Lida, it’s me, Sean,” the boy said, almost hysterically. “Don’t you remember me?”

  She hid her face under the quilt and refused to reply. Sean frantically began to tell his sister about their lives together before the witches destroyed their family, but Eliandor stopped him with a motion of his hand.

  “Let her be. Give her time to recall the past on her own. She suffered more than we can possibly know,” he said, placing his hand on Sean’s arm.

  “Elida, here’s Kit. He’s been to see you every day and wants to play with you,” Breanna said, placing the little fox on the bed. “Won’t you come out and see him?”

  The quilt moved aside and two thin arms reached for the red fox. Touching him carefully, the little girl whispered, “I never saw him before.”

  The two young people walked softly out of the room, each of them not believing what they had just witnessed.

  “Bree,” Sean said with a heavy heart, “was it all for nothing? Did they take Elida from us?”

  Breanna shrugged, helpless to comfort him. “I don’t know,” she said. “We can only pray to the Creator that someday, she’ll look at us and remember. Until then, we must keep her safe, and let her know how much we love her. Every day we can try to make her remember, but I fear the witch has cursed her. It’s possible as long as Yahmara is alive, she will hold Elida’s memories from us. I can’t let that happen, Sean. I refuse to lose her.”