by Katy Winter
"I accept your concern, Rox. Indariol told me little because he had to leave for the east in haste, but I know the girl must be cherished. It'll be done. Let it be so." Istarial's voice was light, almost like the sigh of a summer wind. Nikos smiled and saw the return smile in the light eyes.
"We appreciate your company, Istarial, especially as winter approaches."
"It does," agreed Istarial.
"Then we follow you, Second Son."
The two men retraced their steps, Nikos calmly handing Kasphros to Chlorien and touching her head with a gentle reassuring hand. She turned when she heard the high-pitched whistle that brought the restless forms from behind the trees to stand still, eying she and Nikos interestedly. Chlorien stared at them curiously.
They all had the same eye colour as Istarial and were slight in build as he was, with streaming manes of auburn hair. She couldn't tell whether they were male or female because their forms remained indistinct and they looked identical, but what she did notice was their bare feet, their very faintly slanted eye shape, mainly at the corners, and their elfin-like shaped faces. Had she known it, they mirrored the shape of her own face.
They clustered about Chlorien and the child, touching Chlorien's hair and staring into her eyes. When they gently touched Kasphros, he responded immediately with delighted gurgling, quite unafraid and opening his large eyes very wide in a way that brought sighs from those around him. He was a quite beautiful child.
When Chlorien put out a hand to touch those next to her, her hand seemed to pass through air, the beings staying ill-defined and almost misty wraiths. They drifted away, quickly gathering up everything in the campsite at speed and dismantling anything else with rapidity and efficiency. Istarial nodded pleasantly at Nikos and began to follow his people. With an amused shrug, Nikos took Chlorien's hand and began to walk in the same direction.
Chlorien noticed that the Shadowlanders, including Istarial, ran swiftly ahead, only drawing to a halt, not even breathless, a half-mile or so from where they'd camped. Istarial pointed into a copse where Chlorien was delighted to see two horses quietly lip grass. They weren't tethered or saddled and responded instantly to the guttural cry Istarial gave, trotting across to him and nuzzling him affectionately.
When Chlorien was mounted she went to take Kasphros, only to see Istarial shake his head. She looked an enquiry.
"Let the child travel with us. It will free you to ride swiftly." Chlorien hesitated, then saw Nikos hold the child out to Istarial before he too hauled himself up on his mount.
"He's right, child. The boy will come to no harm. They've developed an affection for him already. It surprises me but so it is. Let be, my love, let be."
Istarial kept the pace fast. Chlorien suspected the horses would tire long before the Shadowlanders who had remarkable stamina not unlike the Gnosti - only these people sustained running for longer. They rode for several hours without a break then stopped, so suddenly Chlorien nearly fell from her horse. Istarial approached her, his breath only slightly uneven with exertion, Kasphros held firmly under one arm.
"The child's hungry," he said courteously. "He tells me I interrupted his feed earlier. You haven't eaten either, have you?"
"No," admitted Chlorien shyly.
She felt the Shadowlander's arm about her waist and was lifted effortlessly to the ground, where she stood rather breathless with surprise. She wavered because she'd not been on horseback for long seasons. Istarial's hand steadied her.
"Thank you," she murmured. She was conscious of his keen regard before he turned from her to Nikos.
"You and your mate are welcome to eat with us, Rox," Istarial said quietly, before he crossed to a thick clump of herbal grass and sank into it. He saw Chlorien take Kasphros from Nikos and then glance at the horses. "They won't wander," he called out. "They have no need to."
He was joined by the other Shadowlanders. Nikos took Chlorien's hand, led her over to them and sank down, his arms up for his son so Chlorien could join him and get herself comfortable. She felt the grass sink under her. It was lushly pleasant. She took Kasphros to let him drink.
Istarial nodded at them and then at food that appeared from nowhere. In front of each was an assortment of food including nuts, juicy large berries that reminded Chlorien of the pies she and her brothers ate at Choice, sweetened fern shoots that were delicious, bread, small cakes and something that looked like cheese but wasn't. It had a faintly acid taste that went well with the spiced shoots.
Chlorien was hungry. She was fascinated by the way the food she finished with was removed without effort. When she lounged back on her elbows, Kasphros now leaned over Nikos' shoulder, she saw a wide shallow cup appear in front of her. She picked it up and sipped, realising appreciatively that it was nectar, though she'd never drunk any that tasted like this. She drew in her breath, glancing at each Shadowlander in turn from under her eyelashes, sipped again and aware, as she did, of a warmth enveloping her.
Istarial and his people finished their repast before Nikos and Chlorien and now sat as still as carved statues with their eyes closed. Kasphros was sated and drowsy so Nikos let him lie in the grass. He drew Chlorien close so she could rest her head on his chest as she'd done with Autoc for cycles.
"How are you feeling, child?" he murmured, his hands running through her hair.
"Not as cold as I was," she whispered. "Was that pure nectar I drank?" Nikos grinned down at her. "Yes. Could you develop a taste for it, little one?" Her eyes twinkled responsively.
"Why does it warm one so?" Nikos considered a moment before replying.
"It doesn't affect me that way so I imagine they have added something to it."
"How else," mumbled Chlorien drowsily, "could people run around in winter without boots?" Nikos gave a soft laugh.
"You'll have to ask them." he said. Chlorien shook her head and closed her eyes. Kasphros lay next to her, on his back and with one foot experimentally in his mouth. Nikos studied his son dispassionately. "Do you notice, little one," he observed, after a brief pause, "that Kasphros accepts them as we do? He mindspeaks Istarial, too - that intrigues me." Chlorien's eyes opened.
"I know," she answered quietly. "It's as if he's always known Istarial." She sat suddenly, twisting her head so she could stare up at Nikos. "So, beloved, who's my illustrious ancestor Istarial referred to?"
Before Nikos could answer, Istarial was on his feet, the horses coming at his command and the Shadowlander's gesture at the lounging couple imperative. As a group they were soon moving again, the Shadowlanders running lithely ahead, from tree to tree, at an even and effortless pace. As Istarial ran, Chlorien noticed how still he kept Kasphros, the child resting as though he were in a barely moving cradle. Kasphros slept.
Their days didn't change except that the weather got steadily colder and colder. Chlorien and Nikos rode through the daylight hours and often at night, guided by light that emanated from the Shadowlanders. The horses seemed to be guided by invisible hands in the dark, because they never stumbled and kept their ears pricked forward as if they listened to something far distant. Sometimes, now, the Shadowlanders rode, their fleet horses as shadowy as themselves.
Istarial seldom spoke and when he did it was most often associated with Kasphros. He was profoundly respectful towards Nikos and deeply curious about Chlorien. He sat, his limpid eyes watching her expressionlessly. Chlorien was aware this man seldom blinked. None of them did.
As the days passed, Chlorien anxiously awaited the breaks from riding because, as happened a cycle before, the cold troubled her. While she rode, the chill probed past furs and skins draped warmly round her and seemed to eat at her very essence. Nikos watched her with concern because she'd become slighter since Kasphros' birth, even though it was an untroubled one. At breaks he held a cup to her lips, gently encouraging her to drink and then, once she had, he curled round her to keep her warm.
The snows suddenly came at night while Chlorien slept. Nikos watched the flurries with anxiety,
his paws holding mother and child close. Chlorien woke to an eerily quiet forest with snow falling gently but steadily. She gave a faint whimper. Nikos had translated hours before and now walked over to Istarial who lounged easily against a bare-branched tree. The snow fell around him but didn't touch him any more than it touched the other Shadowfolk with him. As Nikos approached, Istarial lifted his head from contemplating the ground, his eyes alert. He spoke first.
"You're concerned for the girl, aren't you?"
"She suffers from the cold."
"We've noticed this."
"Though it isn't my wish that it be, she must translate if she's to survive the cold," Nikos stated flatly. Istarial's eyes remained piercing and dispassionate.
"Is the horse inadequate, Rox?"
"It's nothing to do with the horse."
"You've translated before we made ourselves known to you," said Istarial calmly. "I see no problem in your doing so again. The canas should help her keep warm." Nikos shook his head.
"As a canas she'll be hungry. She may even starve because she truly takes the form. She isn't Chlorien as a canas, Istarial, she is the canas."
"She metamorphs completely?"
"Completely."
"That must be rare."
"Autoc found her so," said Nikos, with a rueful smile. He saw the arrested look on Istarial's face.
"What do you wish her to become then, Rox? What will most help her?"
"Until now I wouldn't let her translate into one form."
"Oh?" asked Istarial interrogatively. "And what's that?"
"A Rox." Istarial's eyes flared with an odd light for seconds, his irises dilating as he took a quick intake of breath.
"So she can truly translate into a Rox?" Nikos nodded. "Is this usual?" Nikos shook his head. "Has it ever happened?"
"No," responded Nikos. "Not in living memory."
"And the boy?"
"Istarial, Kasphros is, in reality, a Rox cub. He comes with his mother. This wasn't meant to be, my friend, but Chlorien's condition necessitates that we do this. I only hope it doesn't come too soon for your people."
"If," said Istarial quietly, "it has come to this, Rox, then we must be ready. We, too, have much to learn, haven't we?" Nikos smiled pleasantly at him and saw the faintest smile in the Shadowman's eyes as he stood silent and pensive.
"Yes, you do," he agreed.
Istarial turned his head imperceptibly, after which Nikos saw the horses canter off into the distance. Nikos crossed the ground to Chlorien who crouched miserably, her head down and the little boy clutched hard against her. Nikos saw Kasphros was as impervious to the cold as his father, his fur hood pushed back and his mittens dangling from his wrists, even though Chlorien attempted to keep them on the small hands.
"Chlorien," said Nikos tenderly. "Chlorien."
With an effort she raised her head, her face white and thin, the violet eyes suddenly much too big for the small face. She managed a wan smile, her hand caressing Kasphros' head.
"He's like you," she whispered. "He doesn't feel the cold. Ah gods, beloved, will the chill never end?" Nikos knelt beside her and took her hands in his.
"Translate with me, little one. You remember your Rox form, don't you?" Chlorien nodded her head, surprise lighting her eyes.
"I couldn't forget," she murmured. "But why now?" She gave a deep, eloquent shiver.
"You may not survive otherwise, child. It's a necessity, though my heart misgives me that the Shadowfolk should be brought to this now. Fortunately we're deep enough in their land so none other than Istarial and his small group will see us. Just remember, child, the Rox aren't of Ambros and these people have only seen me dimly by night." He looked at his son now skittering about in the snow. "Kasphros," he said firmly, waiting for the baby face to be upturned. It was. "When I call you, you will translate."
Though Kasphros had never shared a Rox form translation by himself, Nikos knew, from the look in the child's eyes, that Kasphros understood and would do it effortlessly.
Istarial watched, from where he leaned against the tree, as the three forms shimmered, two quite definitely, one big and one small, the third a little unevenly. Then he saw the Rox as he'd only been told of them since his infancy. He heard the muted sighs of the other Shadowfolk as they looked on, their expressions awed.
Istarial stayed motionless, watching as a golden coloured cub, with a black nose, scampered gleefully off into the snow before turning sharply, somersaulting and lolloping back to his mother. The young eyes were wickedly mischievous. Nikos gave the cub an amiable cuff that sent him rolling off into the snow again, Istarial aware that when the cub came back and the gesture was repeated, the cub was making up a game. He was fascinated.
Eventually, he turned his attention to the sleek and elegant darkly-furred Rox. She moved fluidly and sinuously as she rescued the cub and settled him down, rolling on her flank so he could suckle. She contentedly closed her eyes.
Istarial's respect and reverence for the gentle Rox of myth and saga didn't diminish over the following season. It deepened. He saw, too, how much better Chlorien was and how relaxed. The gauntness and frailty that characterised her was gone, her nervous tension engendered by the penetrating cold lessened and she was content just to lounge around. Istarial never saw the Rox eat which made him wonder, but he never asked questions. He just watched.
Chlorien was happy for the Shadowlanders to come to her and sit beside her, their hands stroking and caressing the long dark and silky fur that was streaked with silver and grey. She just watched as the cub went with his father and Istarial, then rolled and played the hours away. There was no longer need for haste.
Of an evening, Istarial sat with them, Kasphros a warm and furry ball curled up in his lap. If the cub wasn't with his father he played alongside Istarial, his tongue hanging out and a grin on his endearing furry face while he mindspoke the Shadowlander. It was clear to Chlorien and Nikos that Istarial had lost his heart to their son - it showed in the crystalline eyes that rested on Kasphros whatever he was doing. With the thaw, the Rox translated back to their Ambrosian forms, Nikos concerned it might lead to renewed constraints. It didn't. Instead, relationships deepened.
Kasphros was an active child and now crawled and staggered anywhere he could. He was quick and agile and kept everyone busy trying to keep track of him. With the snows melting apace in a warming sun, Chlorien wandered away to the thundering rivers to watch cascading torrents carry melting ice. She watched the waterfalls bounce off the rocks and send spray high in the air. It delighted her and made her laugh. The mist that drenched her was chilly but it didn't affect her in the same way as the penetrating winter cold.
Even the early driving spring rains and frequent storms didn't bother her. She just let her long dark curls fall in sodden ringlets down her back. Getting drenched in showers or cloudbursts amused Kasphros as well - he'd stop what he was doing and chuckle delightedly, his hands out to the water. Herbs, grasses and spring flowers emerged from the melting snow, their delicate perfumes scenting the air wherever they trod. Chlorien made flower chains for everyone, an infectious grin on her face as she turned to yet another person. She was utterly content.
Nikos encouraged her to pluck plants, press them and make notes of their Shadowland names and uses, whether medicinal or culinary. There were herbs here she hadn't known existed and some were very beautiful. While she worked, Istarial crouched beside her to assist and while she scribbled, he told her things about his people and how they learned to be as one with their environment. Chlorien felt reminded of the Gnosti the more she learned of these folk.
Spring passed swiftly and happily. It gave way to a very hot dry summer during which Kasphros grew rapidly and moved about more steadily on sturdy legs. He swam with his father and stayed more with him as the days lengthened. With autumn coming to the Shadowlands, the sense of urgency to move faster was felt by Chlorien. She dreaded the onset of winter, only reassured by the knowledge that as a Rox she wouldn't suffe
r.
CHAPTER THREE
Winter came in all its frigid intensity. It created sickness and misery but was nowhere near as impossible as last cycle's winter. The forest offered shelter some of it evergreen, most of it deciduous, but it was shelter real enough. The number of slaves once part of the army was hugely reduced through attrition brought about by hunger, illness, cold and weakness. There were few now to replace them as the seasons passed.
Lute and Bethel were an accepted part of the camp, Lute no longer a puppy but a very large shaggy dog of indeterminate breed with immense hairy paws. Jane commented acidly on this when the dog was wet and shook himself vigorously inside the unsel. Bethel laughed at Jane's long-suffering expression. It made the older man shake his head ruefully as he watched Mishak dry down Lute who lay sprawled comfortably across a mattress. Both Mishak and the dog adored Bethel, Jane sometimes thinking it was difficult to tell whose eyes were the most adoring, boy's or dog's.
Jane kept a watchful eye on the young beduar and was happy when he saw the increased self-confidence and the big eyes that showed peace of mind for the first time since Bethel was enslaved. Though Bethel was still sweet-tempered and very gentle, Jane saw how life toughened him and how discipline and responsibility matured him. He guarded Bethel zealously. And time passed by without excitement or distress, Bethel's life the predictable routine he'd come to accept.
~~~
The warlord and his most trusted warrior lords spent hours every day poring over maps, planning the next stage of the campaign and discussing the relative merits of different formations and dispositions of the men under their command. The warlord did not wish to be disturbed.
It was decided that, come spring, the army would move north beyond the forest, then west, which would bring them within striking distance of the northern army. The warlord had made it quite clear that another full cycle would not pass before a move against the north was made. He anticipated being in position for rapid movement by the following autumn when an unexpected assault would follow immediately on the thaw of the winter. He based his reasoning on the belief that the northern army wouldn't anticipate a strike so early in the season, assuming that they'd have a respite at least until nearer mid-spring. Lodestok intended his assault to be an unpleasant and devastating surprise. The thought brought a glint to cold eyes.