by Sanan Kolva
“I’m not alone! Cylin’s here too!” Leesa assured him. She didn’t venture further into the cave, though, instead waiting for Lucian to come to them.
“Ah, that’s good.” He stepped outside and squinted against the light, then smiled down at the girl. “What can I do for you, Leesa?”
Leesa carefully unwrapped her shirt. “I found a baby bird, and it’s hurt! You have to make it better!” She held out a lump of feathers. The bird’s chest rapidly rose and fell, whether because of pain or fear Cylin didn’t know.
Lucian took the bird gently from Leesa. It twittered weakly, and Lucian made a soothing noise. “Easy there, easy…” He ran his fingers lightly over the bird, smoothing rumpled feathers. Cylin watched him, wondering in spite of herself if he really could make the injured bird whole. Lucian met Leesa’s intent gaze. “I can’t heal the bird, Leesa.”
“But you have to!” she insisted. “You’re an elf! You have magic!”
Cylin tensed, a knot of tension in her gut.
“Not all elves have the same magic, Leesa. We have our own talents. You know that your mother is very good at sewing, but she doesn’t draw?”
Leesa nodded hesitantly.
“Elves are like that too. Some can heal, and others can make stone or plants move, but just because an elf can do one of those things doesn’t mean they can do all the other things.” His voice was gentle.
“But it’s hurt!” she protested.
“I know.” Lucian cupped the injured bird in his hand. “That’s why we’re going to take this little bird to Doctor Kinnel. He’ll do what he can for it.”
Leesa’s large, watery eyes stayed on him. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Lucian told her. “Cylin and I will go to the infirmary with you. Won’t we?” He glanced at Cylin.
“Of course!” Cylin said quickly, shaking off her thoughts. “Yes, absolutely.”
Lucian carried the bird. Leesa clung to his free hand with one hand, and Cylin’s hand with the other, though the path wasn’t wide enough for three abreast, and she had to release Lucian on the descent. Once they reached the bottom, the girl latched onto him again. Some people looked askance at the three of them, but refrained from asking questions.
At the infirmary door, Lucian knocked, then returned the bird to Leesa. “Go on in and tell him about the bird. If he can help, he will.”
Leesa nodded, eyes wide and watery. Cylin opened the door for her, and moved to follow her inside, but Lucian put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Let her do this herself,” he said quietly.
Cylin heard Leesa speaking, heard the moment when the girl’s voice broke and she started to cry even with the door closed. She fixed a sharp glower on Lucian. “Can’t you hear how upset she is? You could have reassured her.”
“I could have lied to her,” Lucian said. “I won’t do that.”
“Lied? Telling a crying child that things will be all right is a lie?”
Lucian turned, facing her. His face was hard. “Do you think that bird will live?”
“Well… probably not,” Cylin admitted.
“Exactly. That bird might suffer less than it would if she hadn’t found it, but I won’t pretend that should comfort a child who hopes for a miracle. Is that ‘reassurance’? Claiming it will be ‘all right’ is a lie, and I won’t lie to a child. It does far more harm than good. Even those lies that people call ‘innocent’ falsehoods. One day, the child realizes all the lies told them, and must wonder what other lies they believed.”
She eyed him dubiously. “And you would know?”
“Yes, I would.” His amber eyes bore into hers. “Do you still think me crazy, Cylin?”
“Uh…” What should she say? Would he fall into that cold fury again if she said yes? “I don’t know. Maybe. But… I don’t know if it matters, does it? Most lords of towns are at least a little off, and it seems to work well enough here.”
The intense gaze did not relent. “Does it matter? Only you can say. It mattered to you before. It mattered to you now that I offered no comforting platitudes to Leesa. Is that the most on which you will take a stand?”
Cylin blinked. “Wait, are you saying you want me to disagree with you and say I think you’re crazy?”
“I am saying that you should know what you believe and what matters to you. Know where you will take a stand. Because if you don’t care enough to hold to something, you’ll meet someone to whom it does matter, who will seek to force their way of thinking and seeing on you. Do you know where you’ll hold firm and where you will bend?”
“Most people tell me to shut up and stay in line, not argue with them,” Cylin said.
“I am not most people.”
“I won’t dispute that.” Cylin met the intense gaze. “I don’t think you’re an elf, Lucian. And even if I did think you some fairy tale ancient magic being, I wouldn’t worship you.”
“Good. We were never gods, no matter what some thought.”
“Some humans, or some elves?” She couldn’t resist asking.
“Both,” Lucian answered, voice dark. “Don’t trust anyone who tells you they’re a god, Cylin. Even if they’re right, if they have to tell you, they’re not worth following.”
Cylin let out a faint laugh. “Well, I guess it’s safe to say you aren’t Shironak.”
He frowned. “Not who?”
He definitely wasn’t Shironak, if he hadn’t even heard the name before. “Half a year ago, when I was still with Pryor, we were in a town, and this drifter was standing at the town well, preaching and calling for people to join in calling on an ‘ancient spirit’ he called Shironak. Pryor’s men entertained themselves by heckling the fellow, but some of the locals seemed pretty interested. I’d mostly forgotten about it until now.”
Lucian frowned. “I don’t know the name. But if you hear anyone making such claims here, tell me at once. Please.” He paused. “Thank you, Cylin.”
“For what?”
“For taking a stand.” With that, he turned and vanished into the depths of the forest.
Against all predictions, the injured bird recovered, though one wing didn’t heal properly, and it couldn’t fly more than a short, awkward flutter. The little brown ball of feathers became a common sight around the village, joining the chickens in pecking up seeds and bugs on the ground or perching on the stairs up into the trees. It could hop up the steps, albeit slowly, but more often than not someone saw it and carried it the rest of the way. Leesa’s faith in Lucian was entirely unshaken by his inability to heal the little thing. She happily told anyone who would listen how Lucian had told her to take it to the doctor, and how Doctor Kinnel had performed a miracle, saving the bird’s life. The tale grew in the telling, of course, but the sparrow became another refugee to find a home in Forest Town.
Cylin grew more at ease with the forest. While at first the trees had felt foreign and unnatural, she grew accustomed to them, and came to appreciate the shade and shelter they offered. On her free days, she packed a meal and explored.
Picking a direction she hadn’t gone, Cylin wandered until she heard water. Finding a stream splashing and dancing down the slope, she followed it upstream and walked along the bank. She didn’t notice how long she walked, looking instead at the plants along the way and identifying as many as she could. The stream tumbled down the side of a rock face. When Cylin found her way to the top of the rock, she found a deep, wide pool carved in it. The stream poured down from another rock wall, feeding into the pool. Lichen and algae coated the rim of the stone basin, but no green slime clouded the water, and neither did plants. A few leaves floated on the surface of the water, but the bottom of the pool was unnaturally clean. The smooth sides of the pool and the width of it both struck Cylin as unnatural—something made rather than something formed by the water alone.
“And I thought all the way out here, I wouldn’t have anyone coming to enjoy the view.”
Cylin jumped at the voice, looking all around
before finally looking up. Lucian, wearing nothing but a loincloth, stood at the top of the rock wall above the pool, grinning at her.
“What? You… I… the view?” Cylin stammered, staring at him. He was lean, muscles toned and defined, his skin lightly tan. The grin lighting his face seemed to lift years from him. His hair was tied back in a short tail, clearly exposing his abnormally long and pointed ears.
Still grinning, Lucian dove from the rock into the pool. Cylin yelped and jumped back as a wave of cold water washed up on her legs. “Hey!”
Lucian surfaced, treading water lazily. “Coming in? The water’s fine.”
“Fine?! The water’s cold as a statue’s balls!” she countered.
“Warmer than glacial melt,” he assured her, then ducked back under the surface and swam the length of the pool and back. His movements were smooth and confident, gliding through the water like a fish. Coming up again, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure!” Cylin said. “I like my baths hot, thank you very much. And even if I was interested, I have nothing to swim in.”
“Just take off whatever you don’t want getting wet,” Lucian said easily. Her face must have told her thoughts on that idea, because his expression sobered. Lucian pulled himself out of the water at the opposite end of the pool, letting it lie between them. “I won’t touch you, Cylin. If you like, I won’t even get in the water while you swim. You have my word on it.”
“But you’d stay there and watch,” she countered.
“Yes, I would. I don’t know how well you swim. I won’t leave when someone might drown in my pool.” There was nothing licentious in his gaze or his voice, only calm practicality.
“I don’t swim. Please, don’t let me stop you,” Cylin said finally.
Lucian studied her. “Are you sure?”
“You looked like you were having fun. Don’t stop for my sake. Please.”
Lucian climbed back up to the top of the rock face, dripping water as he went. The playful joy from his first dive was absent, and his second dive sliced into the water with barely a splash. He came up, treading water again. “What’s on your mind?”
“Do other people come out here?” Cylin asked. “I’ve never heard about this pool.”
Lucian shook his head. “No. This is one of my secrets, a place I come to relax. I don’t mind that you’ve found it. You’re not the first to do so. But I would prefer that you not mention it to anyone else, aside from Devin or Doctor Kinnel. They know how to find it, in case either needs me.”
“Where did you learn to swim?” Cylin asked. “Most places I’ve been don’t have enough clean water for something like this.” She waved at the pool.
“My father taught me. He swam every day that he could, and even in places that didn’t have easy access to water, he would make some. He shaped a lot of pools in caves. Sometimes in the open, like this.”
“He shaped them?” Cylin interrupted. “What do you mean?”
“Magic,” Lucian said easily. “My father’s one of the most skilled elves I know in the art of shaping and manipulating stone. His pools were often deeper and wider than this. And with higher cliffs to jump from.” He smiled. “When you came out here, you reminded me of our morning swims when I was young. The women of the clan used to come out to watch. They called it ‘enjoying the view’.”
“Enjoying the view?” Cylin paused, then realized that “scenery” being admired probably had nothing to do with the landscape, and everything to do with muscular men wearing nothing but loincloths. Heat flushed her cheeks. “Oh. Do you and your father look alike?”
“We do. His hair is auburn, and he tends to keep it long. Some people say he’s better looking than me, more like some statues of an ancient hero.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Not that I have anything to complain about in that regard. Our morning swims… those are some of my best memories, times when my father was truly happy. Or at least, I think he was. Swimming was one of the few times that he wasn’t in constant fear of my mother finding us, a time when he could put that fear out of his mind. I didn’t know it back then. I didn’t know a lot of things when I was young.”
“A lot of things that you should have known?” Cylin hazarded.
“A lot of things that I should have known,” he agreed quietly. “A lot of things about which I was lied to in an effort to protect me from the truth.”
“Your parents lied to you?” Cylin asked.
“My entire clan did. Damned by good intentions. My father was determined not to taint me against my mother. He thought it would be better for me to grow up innocent of the truth.”
Cylin considered whether she should ask the question that his words raised. “What truth were they protecting you from?”
He climbed out of the water and up the rocks once again. “The truth that she was the most evil, sick, twisted, sadistic person to ever live on this world.”
“Your mother?” Cylin repeated. “That is… well… um… That’s... quite a claim.”
At the top of the rock wall, he sat rather than diving again. “Have you ever heard of the Black Witch?”
Cylin nodded. Between historical tales and fairy tales, nearly anyone must have heard of the Black Witch. “She supposedly brought kingdoms to their knees, and people lived in absolute terror of her. Are you saying that your mother was worse than her?”
“No. My mother was her.”
“What? But… but she was human.”
Lucian shook his head. “She made herself look human, but she was not. Her name was Willow.” He spat the word with venom, eyes gleaming with hate.
“The stories say she was one of the cruelest, most evil rulers ever to gain power. They also say she died seven hundred years ago.”
“Your stories got that much right, on both counts. They’re pretty much all wrong about how she died, but they are right that she died then. I would know. I was there. She was more than evil. She was vile.”
“Wait, ‘vile’ is worse than ‘evil’?” Cylin asked, seizing on a subject that seemed less fraught.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lucian’s mouth, easing the tension in his lean form. “Oh yes. The worst possible insult, according to my cousin’s wife. If she called someone ‘vile,’ you knew they were the worst sort of scum. The only person I regularly heard her call ‘vile’ was my mother.”
“Was she nice? Your cousin’s wife, I mean. And your cousin?” He’d mentioned a name, hadn’t he? When he rescued her from Pryor. “Chance?”
Lucian nodded. “Her name was Ahmea, and she was an incredibly kind and gentle person. Wonderful cook. I don’t think anyone could have been a better match for Chance.” Lucian gazed into the pool. “She died in the war.”
Cylin almost protested that the war had ended six decades ago, but didn’t. Maybe there was something to his claims, or maybe it was all a delusion, but right now, she wanted to listen more than she wanted to argue. “You can’t use magic to find your cousin?” she asked instead.
He eyed her, trying to guess whether she was serious. “Not safely. Something happened when the bombs poisoned the land. They poisoned the spirit world as well, and it’s not safe anymore to leave my body and wander out there searching for Chance.” His hands clenched into fists. “If I could, I’d be gone in an instant. I would find him.” He let out a shaky breath. “I know Chance is alive. I’d know if he were dead. But I can’t reach him, and I can’t find him. So… so I’m here, waiting for him to find me.”
She didn’t have to know Chance to see that he was deeply important to Lucian, a friend on whom he relied. “I am sure that he will. If he’s alive and he’s worthy of the faith you have in him, then I’m sure he’ll find you.” Unless he’s holed up somewhere else, waiting for Lucian to find him.
“Thank you.” Lucian bowed his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”
“Right, sorry.” Cylin nodded and retreated.
Her walk back to the village was quiet as her th
oughts turned over each other. When he’d been talking, she hadn’t doubted him. Hadn’t doubted that he had been alive long enough for his mother to be the Black Witch. Hadn’t doubted that he was everything he claimed to be. It had bothered her more that he talked about the war as if it were a recent event than when he spoke of events that even history books called ancient.
Why?
When Cylin returned to Forest Town, she climbed the slope to Lucian’s cave. Devin sat at his post, whittling patterns into a piece of wood. She hadn’t talked to him more than the briefest of polite pleasantries since her first day in Forest Town, and he’d made no effort to talk to her.
He eyed her warily as she approached. “Lord Lucian’s not available,” he said, voice curt.
“I need to talk to you,” Cylin said.
Devin blinked, startled, then he frowned. “Why? Trying to convince me that Lord Lucian’s crazy? That I’m crazy for believing him?”
“I figure that you know more about him than most,” Cylin said. Why am I here? Why do I even care about whatever insane past Lucian has concocted? “I want to know.”
“Why?” Devin repeated. “You don’t believe him. You’ve made no secret of that while you’ve been here. I figured you’d have left as soon as you stocked up. Or are you trying to swindle someone out of their goods?”
Cylin stiffened indignantly. “I am not a thief! If anyone’s a swindler around here, it’s not me. And what’s it to you whether I stay or go? You might have noticed, I’m actually working while I’m here.”
“Instead of sitting on my ass on a rock,” Devin finished in a mocking imitation of her voice. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? That I just sit here and do nothing while everyone else works.”
Cylin shrugged. “You said it, not me.”
He spat on the rocky ground. “Well unlike the guy who sliced you, my father didn’t plan to stop with an ear when he carved me up. He didn’t want me running off either, and I guess the bone men don’t care all that much if a few bones are smashed up.”
Cylin glanced at Devin’s legs. They looked whole as far as she could see, but pants and shoes could hide plenty of scars. He walked with a limp, but he made the trek up here daily, and if he didn’t usually walk fast, few people in Forest Town were in a hurry. “You seem to get around all right now.”