Zellohar

by Chris A. Jackson

  Scents of smoke and cooking meat wafted across the snow. The pack moved toward the source of the mouth-watering aromas like a huge serpent winding through the white landscape. As they neared, they realized that the simmering rabbit was long gone, but other scents piqued their interest and impelled them to stalk closer. There was the tang of metal and the musky odor of human sweat, not the pungent reek of the orcs they had recently feasted upon. Mouths watered at the prospect of another such meal.

  The leader of the pack moved closer, skirting the thick foliage to avoid detection. The others moved with her to surround the small campsite, but halted at her deep warning growl. Several of the wolves paced; surely the pack would take this camp for food. It had been days since their last feast. They moved closer again, but were stopped once more. Her low growls were returned from the pack as the boldest wolves expressed their vexation at her decision not to take the small camp. One look from her hard yellow eyes, and they subsided. She was the alpha, the smart one, the one that had made the pack prosper.

  They circled the small copse of trees for a while, impatient at the delay. If they were not going to take the humans, then why was she so inquisitive?

  The pack needs meat if we are to continue this, she thought. There will be food in the burned-out farm that these humans have been to. We will feast on the frozen meat, then return to follow these curious intruders.

  She led them away, the pack worming its way behind her through the drifts, hungry and disgruntled. Yet none were foolish enough to challenge her. None were ever that foolish.

  A firm, broad hand on her arm...

  Not light yet, father, she thought, still more than half asleep. Another half-hour, please...

  The hand shook her, and her name drifted into her sleepy thoughts. "Avari..." But it wasn't her father's voice... "It's your watch..." Avari opened her eyes to see Jundag staring down at her as he shook her awake. For a moment she forgot where she was, then his words struck home; it was time for her watch, and also time for her discussion with Jundag. Her stomach clenched at the prospect, but she found herself suddenly and fully awake.

  He started to turn away, heading toward his own blankets, but Avari leapt after him; if she did not talk to him now, she would never work up the nerve again. Quietly, she touched his arm and pulled him to the edge of camp away from Shay.

  "Jundag," she said, still trying to organize her sleep-fogged thoughts. "I've thought a lot about the other night, and I have to apologize for my behavior. I think that you were... uh..." she cast around for the right words, "attracted to me, and I... reacted in the wrong way. I didn't mean to anger you, it's just that I wasn't ready for it. I hope you can forgive me."

  Her little speech concluded, Avari waited for Jundag to respond. When he did not, she glanced up to see him staring into the glow of the fire. Her first thought was that she had angered him again. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he began to speak. He spoke in a voice very different from his usual, a voice guarded and deep with emotion, a voice that sent chills down her spine.

  "If the truth be known, Avari," he said as he turned toward her, locking his gaze with hers, "I am much more attracted to you than would be healthy for either of us on this journey."

  Now it was Avari's turn for silence as she pondered the implications of his confession. The shiver down her spine turned warm, centering itself in her stomach and drawing her together like the ends of a great bow, taut and ready. "I'm not sure I understand," she finally ventured.

  "There are many difficulties in being a warrior that you know naught of, Avari. The greatest of these is simply that the trade of a warrior is war, which can bring violence to the ones around you, whether they be warriors or not."

  Avari's upbringing was the result of just such violence, but she had never really appreciated it until she heard the warnings of her father echoed by Jundag. Not for the first time, she realized just how much the tribesman reminded her of her father. They were similar in both manner and thought. It surprised her also that she had accepted the title of warrior. Her battle with the thieves, and even her presence on this venture, added a dimension to her life that she had never dreamed of.

  "It was that type of senseless violence that drove me from my tribe." Jundag's voice jerked her back to reality.

  "In my tribe, most marriages were arranged, especially those concerning the offspring of the chieftain." He paused for a moment, gazing at the dying embers, his face unreadable. "I was one of the suitors to the chieftain's daughter, as were all of the eligible young warriors. Chief Black Arrow had no sons, so the one who married his daughter would one day be chief. The competition was fierce. Fights broke out, often ending in death. Black Arrow put a stop to it and organized a series of contests to narrow the field of suitors to two. I was one of the two.

  "The final contest was to take place on the festival of summerfeast and would continue until only one survived. I was young and caught up in the glory of being hailed as the greatest warrior, and of one day being chief. I had not thought the life of a fellow warrior too great a sacrifice." He stopped again, his unblinking eyes reflecting the orange glow of the fire.

  "So, did you fight him?" Avari asked.

  Jundag shook his head then answered. "I did not have to. They found the chieftain's daughter on the morning of the contest, clutching the hilt of the dagger she had thrust into her own heart." He drew the ivory feather medallion from beneath his furs and held it for Avari to see. "This was hers. Her name was Feather Blossom. Her father gave it to me... after."

  Avari gasped at the thought, realizing what the poor girl must have been going through; all those young men fighting and dying to win her hand.

  Jundag took a half step away from her. "So I left," he said, his voice flat, as if afraid to allow any emotion. "The chief made it clear that her death was no one's fault, but I couldn't..."

  Avari put a hand on his shoulder to lend some comfort, but as he turned back, he gently removed her hand and let it drop.

  "You must understand, Avari, that what happened in the barn was not your fault, but mine. I let my emotions cloud my mind, as they have before. If we are to survive this journey we will both need clear minds." He grasped her by the shoulders, his eyes glinting in the light of the dying fire. "If there is to be anything between us, Avari, let it start after this is over, when neither of us will endanger the other with our feelings."

  Avari nodded and dropped her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes for fear that she would not be able to look away.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dawn brightened Avari's face with a hue as rosy as her mood. With the birth of the day, everything seemed new; her friends were her friends again, and she understood their feelings, woes and concerns. Her companions woke in similar spirits, joining her in spry conversation as they ate the leftovers from dinner and packed to go. Questions answered and anxieties pacified, they surged with enthusiasm as they stepped out of the copse of trees... and stopped in shock.

  Deep paths encircled the campsite like a serpent enveloping its prey before squeezing it to death. They scanned the forest, but all was still; whatever had visited them in the night was gone. As if in response to their fading ardor, swarthy clouds drifted across the sun. Jundag made a hasty warding sign and bent to examine the tracks.

  "Wolves."

  "How many?" Shay asked.

  "Impossible to tell. Wolves travel single file through snow to make it easier for all but those in front." He stared at the tracks with a frown, following the path around the trees. "Strange. They watched us for some time, but did not come close enough for us to see them. Also, they arrived and departed in the same direction. That is not usual for beasts of the wild."

  "Something other than wolves, perhaps?" Shay offered. "Possibly dire wolves, or glacier jackals out of the mountains?"

  Jundag shook his head. "Not big enough for glacier jackals, and dire wolves would have attacked. That is what puzzles me. Winter has come early and run much of the game off. Th
ey were probably hungry, drawn to us by the scent of our dinner, but even well-fed wolves usually are not this cautious."

  "Let's just hope these ones stay that way." Avari knew what a danger wolves could be in winter, and did not want to ask about glacier jackals or dire wolves if they were worse. She tightened her pack straps and moved her bow to an accessible position. They started toward the mountains, which loomed much closer and darker than they had only minutes before.

  Despite their hopes to the contrary, their lupine visitors appeared about mid-morning, swift gray ghosts loping through the trees, steamy breath puffing through gleaming white teeth. They flickered in and out of sight, impossible to count, and never within bow range. Avari's nerves wound as taut as her bowstring; by early afternoon she was starting at every flickering shadow. Experiencing the hunt from the prey's perspective was something she did not savor in the least.

  The hills became steep, slowing their pace. Their shadowy escort diminished until only an occasional animal was glimpsed in the distance. As their altitude increased, the forest thinned and clearings opened before them. At the edge of one clearing, Jundag stumbled and pitched face-first into a snow drift.

  "Gaaamph!" the big man snorted pushed himself up from the powdery snow. He swore and thrashed, trying to right himself, hampered by the snowshoes. "What in the name of Puc's ten toenails... Something grabbed my blasted foot!"

  Avari and Shay stared at his hair, beard and eyebrows caked with snow, and started giggling. His skin was dusted white, and tiny avalanches cascaded down his cheeks when he blinked. Worry about the wolves vanished, tension melting away with their helpless mirth. Shay clung to Avari to keep from falling down, while she wiped freezing tears from her cheeks.

  Not relishing the humor of the situation, Jundag struggled to his feet and tried to salvage his dignity. Shaking like a dog to shed his icy blanket, he patted his weapons, then swore again. "My axe! I've lost my axe! And my best dagger too! Damn it all to the Nine Hells!"

  Jundag's raging and rooting around in the snow for his lost weapons only added to their amusement.

  "I really don't think this is the time to play in the snow, Jundag," Avari said, striking an indignant pose.

  Shay tisked in mock sadness. "Such a shame. I do believe he is regressing to his childhood."

  The two jesters snickered while he sheathed his recovered dagger, growled in their direction, and dug deeper to find his axe. He muttered his own language then grunted in satisfaction.

  "Ah, there it is. If I can just get... a good... grip!" Jundag jerked his prize free and shook it to clear off the snow. "What in the name of—Gaaaa!" He flung the shapeless thing away, his roar of disgust quelling his friends' humor like a slap.

  "What's wrong?" Avari asked as the tribesman wiped his hand on his trousers and regained his composure. "What is it?"

  As they both edged closer, Avari heard Shay gasp, for it was not the lost axe that lay there, but a length of spinal column, topped with the gnawed remains of a head. The skull was cracked and empty, clinging to the vertebrae by a few tendons. The soft portions and the jaw had been torn away, but the remainder still bore distinct enough features to identify. The bone structure was narrower and more sloped than that of a man, and two curved tusks protruded from the upper jaw.

  "It would appear that our orcs stumbled across something hungry," Shay said, prodding the remains with his war hammer.

  As if in answer, a howl drifted across the snow. The companions hushed. Avari readied an arrow and scanned the trees, but there were no wolves in sight. Evidently, their lupine escort was still close at hand. While she stood guard, Shay and Jundag searched, probing for more hints of their unfortunate quarry. This was the first good evidence of the raiders, and in moments they had uncovered several pieces of armor, weapons, and more bones. Jundag estimated the total to be five or six orcs. Many bones appeared to be missing, and the ones that remained were gnawed to a gleaming polish.

  "Some unusually hungry wolves, it would seem," Shay offered, sorting and counting the weapons and bones.

  "Or very many wolves," Jundag countered. "A pack of twenty-five or thirty could have done this, though I would have thought we would find at least one wolf carcass."

  "Save three of the shields," Avari suggested, shrugging out of her pack. "We can lash our equipment to them and pull it behind. If we have to fight, I don't want to be weighted down by pots and pans."

  "Good thinking," Jundag agreed, removing his pack and nodding for Shay to do likewise.

  The priest quickly removed his canvas-wrapped books from his pack and stuffed them into a burlap sack, which he tied to the back of his belt. He inventoried all of his pouches and pockets then handed the pack over to Avari. She lashed ropes to the orcs' shields, and handed one rope-end to him.

  "Tie it to your belt, but keep a knife handy to cut it free if we get into trouble."

  Their parcels secure, they moved on, oblivious to the remains of the half-dozen more orcs strewn around the clearing, completely hidden by the snow.

  Jundag urged his companions on throughout the day. They climbed steadily, munching on jerky and apples in lieu of a proper lunch as they ascended into the high foothills. The trees continued to thin, and an occasional boulder field or escarpment of rock showed through the snow.

  "The orcs were travelling in this direction," Jundag explained, sketching their course on a map during one of their brief stops. "That confirms my suspicions of the location of their lair. The mountains are full of empty mines and quarry holes belonging to a clan of dwarves who trade their gems and metalwork in Beriknor. One day long ago the trade stopped and the dwarves vanished. They reappeared several years later in new warrens to the south, and resumed their trading. They never divulged why they moved.

  "The cities had their gems, and the dwarves had their secret. Many a treasure seeker has searched these hills to plunder the fabled keep that was their home, but no one ever found it.

  "The empty mines are likely the lair of those stinking, mud-flopping pig-men, and who knows," he said, grinning, "maybe we'll find the stronghold and the lost dwarven city."

  Avari listened to the story halfheartedly, trying instead to look in all directions at once. The wolves had reappeared soon after they left the orc bodies, although not in the numbers they had seen before. That did not reassure her at all. She was still unable to loose an arrow; the animals seemed to know exactly how far away they had to stay to be safe.

  As the sun began its descent, the scattered clouds thickened to a sheet of iron grey and a light snow began to fall. It was not enough to hinder their progress, but enough that Avari was forced to unstring her bow to keep the string dry. An hour later it began to snow in earnest.

  "We should make camp soon," she suggested.

  Jundag nodded toward an up-thrust rock at the edge of a boulder field. Avari noted his choice with approval. The stone rose twelve feet above their heads, and was twice that in width. The windward side was steep and impossible to climb, which afforded good protection should something in the night decide that the small group of adventurers might be tasty. They settled in, accustomed now to the routine of setting up camp, but Jundag stopped Avari as she pulled out kindling for a fire.

  "It is too risky to have a flame if there may be an orc lair nearby," he explained.

  "But we'll freeze," Avari protested. "And some hot food would taste so good after that long, cold trek..."

  "I said no fire," Jundag insisted, and Shay stepped into the argument before more could be said.

  "But friends, have you forgotten why you brought me along?" The priest stepped to the side, sweeping his cloak aside dramatically. Tem's bountiful cornucopia lay glowing on Shay's blanket, drawing instant smiles from the hungry companions.

  "I took it upon myself to provide a meal."

  Shortly they were all feasting upon the magical fare, though Jundag still insisted that someone else retrieve his dinner from the glowing aperture. After the meal, the argument ab
out warmth arose once again.

  "We could share blankets and use our body heat to keep each other warm," Jundag suggested, leering wolfishly at Avari. Shay stiffened at the implication, but Avari surprised him.

  "Why sir, I hardly know you," was her modest reply, as she turned her head into her cloak. Then she peered out. "Ask me again tomorrow night." They burst into laughter then hushed each other to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

  "I may have a solution to this problem, also," Shay said, with a worried yet hopeful look. "But I must have some quiet for my prayers. I'm already tired, and I do not know if Tem's blessings will be granted for... um... Well, it is a lot to ask."

  Jundag frowned, but nodded his agreement and moved to a position where he could survey the tree line. The elusive wolf pack was nowhere in sight.

  Some time later, as full darkness fell under a cloudy sky, Shay roused and called the others near.

  "Give me your dagger," he said to Avari, holding out his hand.

  The gray tint to his skin and bruised look of his eyes startled her so, that she did not even think to ask why he needed her weapon. The priest looked fatigued, as if drained by sickness or starvation. His lips were pale, and the hand he held out shook. She handed the dagger over without a word.

  Shay sensed her concern and smiled, but even that was strained. He took the dagger and held it lengthwise in one hand, then removed the silver icon of Tem the Balancer from beneath his chainmail and held it over the blade. As a rush of soft, airy words came from his lips, the dagger's blade began to give off a soft blue light which intensified to an almost blinding intensity. He handed the knife back to her hilt first. She accepted it gingerly, but the blade felt only of cool steel.

  "Sheath it," Shay said, his tone still dull and lifeless. Avari complied and the light was completely doused, only the faintest glimmer escaping from the crack between sheath and crosspiece. "You now have a light source in the absence of fire. When you need light, simply draw the dagger. When you wish to keep your presence secret, leave it in its sheath."