by Dan Wingreen
Aidan tensed. Don't ask him that! Eallair never looked away from the shaman, but he reached back with the hand nearest Aidan and gave his wrist a short, comforting squeeze.
The shaman gave nothing away, but somehow Aidan was sure he saw it despite the darkness and the fact that most of Aidan was hidden behind Eallair. He wondered if it would help convince him. Necromancers surely wouldn't try to comfort each other, right?
"You are a curiosity," the shaman said. "If you are necromancers, then you court death, yet you have gone out of your way not to kill our people. If you are not necromancers, then you have no business being in the desert, yet here you are." He gave them a thoughtful look; the first expression Aidan had seen on his face thus far. "The question is, how do I satisfy my curiosity?"
"You could just ask us, you know," Eallair said. Aidan winced internally at the flippant tone. Thankfully, the shaman didn't seem to care.
"Ah, but how would I know if you spoke the truth?" he asked. "Even if you are not necromancers, you are not of the People. The world outside our lands is full of lies and deceit, manipulation and murder. How can anything you say be trusted?"
"So, you're just gonna stand there starin’ until you decide what the truth is then?" Eallair challenged. "Pretty stupid way to satisfy curiosity, if you ask me."
The shaman's lips twitched, into what Aidan could have sworn was almost a smile. "I agree. But you should not be so quick to dismiss staring. You can learn much from observation."
"Like the fact that I didn't kill all your shamans, even though I could have easily done so?" he asked.
"No." A shadow passed over the shaman’s face. "Like the fact that you do all the talking, while your companion remains silent. Like the fact that you hide him behind you, while he is content to remain hidden. You do not look at him, yet you know when he is distressed. That tells me he is either important, or he is important to you." He paused. "Perhaps I could trust you to be truthful if his life depended on your honesty."
Aidan tensed again, expecting some kind of magic to grab him and drag him up to the shaman, but then he remembered the shield. As long as he was down here, he was safe. Suddenly, getting out of the hole didn't seem like such a great idea.
Eallair's eyes narrowed. "You can trust me to be truthful about this; if you even try to touch him, I'll tear you and your shaman apart. I only need a village, not your village. So don't think for a second about getting’ all smug and knowin’ about me not doin’ you harm. Because I ain't got no problem with finishin’ what I started."
Aidan’s chest tightened. Despite what Eallair said, he'd already told Aidan they needed permission to cross shaman lands or the next village they ran into would attack them on sight, and it would probably be a lot bigger than this one. The odds of surviving to get to Arthur were almost nothing in that case, and yet Eallair was saying he would risk it for Aidan. Coming back to rescue him from the DMS, Aidan could almost write off as guilt, but this had to mean Eallair cared about Aidan, right?
He tried to push those thoughts away to focus on the very real danger they were in, but he still found himself fighting a smile even as the shaman's shadowed eyes hardened.
"Just what I would expect from an outsider. Your threat is as hollow as it is insulting. If you lower your shield you would be crushed to death before you could attempt to kill me, and even if you succeeded, I am the only thing holding this shaft open. You can do nothing but waste your breath on meaningless words."
Eallair smiled, then casually raised a single finger. A tiny white ball materialized in the air above it, then flew up towards the top of the shield, passing through the space where the top of the shield should have been, before shooting up the shaft towards the shaman. He barely had time to widen his eyes in surprise before the ball hit him in the center of the forehead and exploded with a brilliant white light. The shaman cried out and the sand surrounding them started to shake. After a few seconds, it settled, the hole still open.
There was shouting, some in Britannic, some in a musical lilt Aidan assumed was the shaman language. It really does sound like it's being sung. A louder voice sang out sharply, and the rest quieted down. The older shaman appeared at the hole, apparently uninjured. He looked down again, but this time he was more hesitant and, Aidan noticed, seemed confused.
"Still meaningless?" Eallair asked, more than a little smugly.
The shaman frowned. "What did you do?"
"Flash spell," he answered. "Kind of annoying, but harmless. What you should be askin’ is why your hole didn't fall down on top of me. Unless I'm wrong and you're not the one what's holdin’ it open?"
From the shaman's expression, Aidan could tell that Eallair wasn't wrong.
"I am not holding it open anymore," he said slowly.
Eallair grinned. "I know."
"Why is it not collapsed?" the shaman asked.
Aidan glanced worriedly at the shaft. He wanted to know that too, but probably for a very different reason.
"Put your hand in the hole," Eallair said. The shaman didn't move, but Eallair's grin just got wider. "Come on, aren't you curious?"
"I see I was right about manipulation," the shaman said, but, after another moment of hesitation, he reached down into the hole.
Or tried to. When his hand came to the top it stopped, and he frowned. He pushed harder, but it wouldn't budge, not even an inch into the hole.
"That's my shield," Eallair said, "Extended all the way up the shaft, holdin’ back the sand." Aidan's eyes widened as he realized for the first time that he couldn't see the sand surrounding the shaft anymore. Instead, there was a soft, blue tint to the walls. The shield, he realized. Eallair must have slowly extended it while he was talking to the shaman. "A shield that I can manipulate to send magic through, in case you forgot. You couldn't collapse it if you tried."
Which wasn’t, exactly, true. Eallair had explained a bit about shields to him as they were driving, so Aidan knew that manipulating a shield so only part of it dropped was very hard to do and incredibly taxing on a sorcerer’s magical reserves. It probably wouldn’t take too many more spells shot through a hole in the shield before it became too difficult to hold up that much sand and rock.
Aidan held his breath and tried not to give away that he knew Eallair was bluffing.
The shaman didn't move for several moments, except to take his hand away from the hole. "You would still be trapped."
Eallair snorted. "For a bit. But trust me, I could get out of here a lot easier than you can get to me, or him. It'd just take a bit of time is all."
The shaman cocked his head thoughtfully. "You could have killed me the moment I first appeared."
"Aye," Eallair said. “But I didn't kill you, did I?" He crossed his arms. "So maybe you can trust me now when I say that we ain't here to harm you. I'm not a necromancer, and neither is he. We only wanna talk."
For a long while, the shaman didn't speak. His thoughtful look never faded as he studied them. Aidan wondered if anyone else could hear his heart pounding in the silence.
"Shaman, you can't seriously be—"
"Quiet!" The shaman glared sharply and snapped at whoever had spoken. He—presumably—held the man's eyes for a few more moments before once again looking down the hole. He pressed his lips together tightly, then nodded, almost to himself.
"Then perhaps we should talk."
Chapter 4
The inside of the yurt was bigger than Aidan had expected. Of course, that might have been because of the complete lack of furniture. Instead of chairs or beds, there were large, round, multicolored pillows strewn around the room on top of the blankets and shawls covering the floor. Aidan sank down onto one of the surprisingly comfortable pillows as Eallair plopped onto the one next to him and crossed his legs. Across from them, two shaman sat similarly.
The one across from Eallair was the older one. Now that Aidan wasn't looking at him through a hole in the ground, he could take in more detail. The cloak he wore came down to his kne
es and was lined with some kind of gray animal fur. The edges were trimmed with the same fur, and there was so much of it at the shoulders and neck it almost looked like an animal sleeping on him, waiting to wake and attack at its master's command.
He looked back and forth between Aidan and Eallair, his expression shifting from curiosity to wariness to something Aidan couldn't figure out, but he had the impression something about him and Eallair bothered the older shaman. Something beyond them possibly being necromancers. No matter what is was, though, it didn't do anything to lessen the air of alert preparedness that hovered around him like a sharp morning mist. He made no move to attack them, no matter how many dark mutterings and threatening looks came from the other shaman, but he looked like he wouldn't be caught off guard if they attacked either. Just once Aidan wished Eallair would think up a plan long enough in advance to actually tell him what it was so maybe in situations like this he'd know if they were supposed to attack at some point. Not that he'd really be able to help. As it was, all he could do was sit there like a child while the adults talked around him. Even as nervous as he was, he couldn't help resenting that a bit.
Even if it looked like he had some company at the kid’s table.
The second shaman sitting across from Aidan hadn't stopped glaring at them with undisguised hostility since they sat down. He looked younger than Aidan, possibly not even much older than the teens in his WA meetings, except for his eyes. They were dark brown and cold and looked about a decade older than the boy. Growing up in a desert where necromancer attacks apparently weren't unheard of must have been especially hard on someone so young. The rest of his appearance was almost unremarkable; the same tanned skin and long, black hair with feathers and tokens weaved into it, the same lean, fit body that obviously saw more than its share of physical activity. The only difference, besides his youth, was a rough looking crystal pendant tied around his neck with what looked like a strip of leather, and the small, gray patches of fur sewn into the shoulders of his vest. Aidan hadn't had a lot of time to study the other shaman when they were running for their lives or when they were being herded into the yurt after being lifted out of the hole by the same earth magic that had put them there, but he didn't think any of the others had similar decoration. The more Aidan looked at it, the more he thought it was the same kind of fur that lined the other shaman's cloak.
Maybe he's some kind of junior…cloak person.
Almost as if he knew he was thinking about him, the boy turned his glare back on Aidan. Aidan met his gaze levelly. He'd been getting glares from kids a lot younger than Cloak Jr for over six years. If there was one thing he was good at, it was not being intimidated by pissed off teenagers. Especially during delicate talks.
Not that anyone's actually talking.
Everyone seemed content to study, or glare, at each other. Even Eallair, who sometimes seemed physically unable to shut up, was sitting patiently looking at the older shaman and waiting for…something. Aidan just hoped he wasn't waiting for someone else to "break" and talk first so he wouldn't "lose".
Finally, the shaman broke the silence.
"Who are you?"
A slight smirk flashed across Eallair's face. Aidan fought the urge to roll his eyes. Way to be diplomatic. He wasn't the only one to catch it, though. The boy had seen it too, and he clenched his teeth in frustrated anger.
"My name's Eallair," he answered. "And this is Aidan."
Aidan bit his lip to keep from snapping at him; he was perfectly capable of introducing himself.
"Eallair," the shaman said, pronouncing it perfectly Aidan was annoyed to note. He raised an eyebrow. "That is a strange name, even for an outsider."
"And your names?" Eallair asked.
"This is Two Rivers," he said, gesturing to the younger shaman. And he thinks Eallair is a weird name? Well, okay, it is, but at least it's a name, not a geographic feature. "And it is against our customs to give my name to an outsider."
"In our culture, that's a bit rude," Eallair said mildly.
"In ours it is not. Why are you here?" he asked.
"They're necromancers!" Two Rivers blurted out, apparently not being able to hold back anymore. Honestly, Aidan was surprised he lasted this long. "They want to kill us and use our bodies in their foul magics! Why are we talking to—"
"Be quiet!" the older shaman snapped, his voice deepening and seeming to fill the whole yurt. Two Rivers flinched. He shot the shaman a nervous look, but Aidan could tell he wasn't about to let the matter drop. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else the shaman slowly turned his head and gave the boy a glare of his own. Unlike the glares Two Rivers had given Aidan and Eallair, the shaman's wasn't filled with passion or anger, merely a cold promise that Two Rivers would deeply regret, for a very long time, saying whatever he was about to say.
Two Rivers froze, then slowly shut his mouth.
The shaman gave a barely perceptible nod, but kept his hard gaze firmly fixed on the boy.
"We are talking to them because that is what I want," he said, his voice calm and light, but threaded with warning. "It is my decision to make, not yours. You are here to learn and observe, not to question me in front of outsiders. Do you understand?"
Two Rivers pressed his lips together so hard they turned white, but nodded jerkily. "Yes, Shaman."
"Good," the shaman said. He kept his eyes locked on the boy for another moment, then turned back to Eallair.
"Why is he calling you 'Shaman'?" Aidan asked before anyone else could say anything. Eallair shot him a look Aidan chose to interpret as "children should be seen and not heard” and gave him an appropriate scowl in response. Stupid sorcerer. Aidan was tired of just sitting around while everyone else did the talking. He'd done it with Anwir, he’d done it with the cops, and he’d done it in the hole. He was through being a set piece in other people's conversations.
And, as much as he liked Eallair trying to protect him, Aidan needed Eallair to know Aidan could pull his own weight. Having pretty eyes and making Aidan feel important didn't mean anything if he didn't actually let Aidan do anything. He had to show Eallair he wasn't going to just be dragged around while he took all the risks.
Eallair seemed like he wanted to say something, but held back. Whether it was because he thought better of it or because they weren't exactly in friendly company, Aidan didn't know.
The shaman, on the other hand, turned his eyes towards Aidan and lifted an eyebrow.
"So, the other one can speak," he said. It didn't exactly sound mocking, but Aidan wasn't in the mood to be generous in his interpretations of anybody's anything right then.
"The other one is right here, and I do have a name," Aidan said, turning his glower on the shaman.
"And so you do," the shaman conceded with a nod. "I am also surprised, however, that your master lets you speak out of turn, but then I admit I do not know much about outsider customs."
"Master?" Aidan sputtered.
The shaman frowned. "Is he not your apprentice?" he asked Eallair.
"No," Eallair answered.
"No!" Aidan said at the same time.
"Ah," the shaman said after a moment. "I misunderstood. Are you siblings, then? Or lovers?" He frowned. "Is it possible to be both in the outside—"
"No!" Aidan shouted again. His face burned.
"We're not either," Eallair said quickly. "We're…" He glanced at Aidan, a complicated expression passing over his face. "Companions," he finished.
Oh. Is that… Not even friends? But, they hadn't really known each other long enough to be friends, had they? Which meant…they hadn't known each other longer for anything else, either. Aidan fought down a sudden wave of disappointment. With the way Eallair had defended him he thought…but what did he know? Aidan really hated feeling things for people. It was exhausting and confusing and never returned.
I guess I should be thankful he didn't say "burden" at least. But even as he had the thought, he knew Eallair would never do that. Actuall
y, I almost wish he would. It'd make it a lot easier to stop liking him.
The shaman looked back and forth between them for a few seconds, seeming almost amused about something.
"Well, 'Companion' Aidan, to answer your question he calls me Shaman because that is what I am," he said.
"But aren't you all shaman?" Aidan asked, deciding to ignore how much being called companion stung. He was just being stupid. "I mean, isn't that like saying 'Hey, wizard!' to me?"
Two Rivers scoffed under his breath, then shot a worried look at the shaman. He relaxed when the man didn't even glance at him. He was too busy shaking his head at Aidan.
"It is somewhat comforting to see your ignorance about our people has not changed in two hundred years. We are not shaman. Shaman is a…" He paused. "I suppose it would be a 'title' in your language. It means that I am the leader of this village. In our language it means, 'one who is gifted with the power to move the earth and lead the People with wisdom'."
"It means all that?" Aidan asked skeptically. "That one little word?"
"Even the smallest word can have great meaning," the shaman, or Shaman, Aidan supposed, said.
Aidan glanced at Eallair, who didn't seem half as confused as he was. He also didn't seem to be interested in taking control of the conversation from Aidan.
"Okay, so if you're not shaman, what do you call yourselves?"
"Shaman, are we really going to fall for this?" Two Rivers suddenly asked. "No one can be that ignorant. They have to be playing some kind of game."
Aidan expected the Shaman to snap at him again, and from the expression on his face the boy seemed to think so too, but instead his eyes never left Aidan’s even as he replied to Two Rivers. "Normally, I would agree with you. But you should never underestimate the ignorance of outsiders." Aidan bristled, and the Shaman seemed pleased at that. Stupid Shaman.
"Since we're so ignorant, maybe you should be enlightenin' us," Eallair said.
If Aidan had said that, he knew it would have come off snappy and annoyed, but Eallair just seemed…amused. The Shaman seemed even more pleased at the question than Aidan's reaction though, and when he saw the look of smug confidence on the boy it suddenly hit him what was going on.