"That, little doe, is an arrow," the second voice said.
Amber reached up and touched a finger to her ear. She felt wetness, and inspecting her finger, saw red blood.
"Just a little nick," the first voice said. "I take it you have not been invited to Loralayalana?"
"If she had, she would have said," the second voice responded. "She does not bring a gift, she has not been invited. We should kill her now."
"Wait!" said Amber. "I… I did bring a gift."
She thought frantically, what did she carry on her?
"Here!" she said. She reached under the neck of her dress, withdrawing an emerald pendant. It sparkled on its silver chain.
There was a rustle in the undergrowth, then, one moment there was nobody there, the next a small man stood in front of her, facing Amber with a look of suspicion on his face.
He was perhaps a foot shorter than Amber, with a ruddy glow to his cheeks and small, wizened features. Amber’s breath caught; it was the first time she had seen one of the elusive Dunfolk.
He wore clothing of brown and green, dark like the forest they were in, and soft shoes of deerskin.
And he carried a bent weapon — a bow, Amber remembered it was called. It was arched with restrained power, an arrow fitted to the string, pointed at her. Her breath quickened; Amber hoped he wouldn’t release the string, either by accident or intent.
"What is it?" he said. He was the owner of the first voice.
"It’s a necklace."
"What does it do?"
Amber thought she had best get creative. "Well, it shines in sunlight, starlight or moonlight. Given as a gift to a woman, it can cause her to fall in love with you."
"Good, good," the hunter said. He relaxed his pressure on the string and, walking forward, took the necklace from her hands.
"What about my gift!" cried the second voice, still concealed.
"I don’t have another gift," Amber started to say.
Another arrow whistled past Amber’s other ear. It was a harder nick this time, and she yelped with pain, jumping and clutching her hand to her ear.
"He would like a gift too." The first hunter shrugged.
Amber’s ear throbbed; she could feel the blood dripping onto her neck and shoulder and hoped it wasn’t a deep wound. What could she do? Then it came to her.
"I do have a gift! It was my joke."
The second voice spoke again, "You were joking?"
"I was. Here."
Amber reached into her dress and took out the seeker. A second man was suddenly at her shoulder, reaching around. He looked much like the first man but had a tattoo of a bird on his cheek. Amber let him touch the seeker but kept it in her hands.
"What is it? What does it do?"
"It’s called a seeker. It helps you find your way," she said. Who knew how she would find her way home now?
"How?"
"Well, first you need to activate it."
Amber spoke and the runes on the seeker were instantly suffused with a silver glow.
The two Dunfolk leaped back in surprise.
"It won’t hurt you," Amber said, keeping her voice even. "See? You line the colours up with the arrows and you can make sure you’re always walking in the same direction. You activate it by saying skut-tsee and you deactivate it by saying sku-lara." The seeker lost its glow when she spoke and the Dunfolk looked on curiously.
"It will do," the second man grumbled, taking the seeker.
Amber took a deep breath. "I’m here because I need your help. A friend of mine is sick and we need a healer."
"A healer? An apolaranasan you mean?"
"Umm… I think so."
"Hmm," the first man said. He glanced at his fellow. "I think we should take you to Loralayalana."
His friend didn’t even respond, he was too busy trying to say the words to activate the seeker, every inflection but the correct one coming out of his lips.
~
THE small group walked swiftly through the trees, the Dunfolk somehow picking an easier path than Amber ever would have herself. They seemed perfectly comfortable in the woods, one of the creatures that inhabited this wild place.
Occasionally one stopped to make an idle joke to his fellow, to which they inevitably responded with uproarious laughter.
"Will you not try your necklace on that wood hen yonder? If she falls in love with you we will dine on her eggs whenever it takes our fancy!"
"What happens if the seeker gets lost? Will it use itself to find its way? What if it can’t talk, will it still be able to activate?"
Amber looked up; she still couldn’t see the sky, but something about the way the light refracted through the immense canopy above her head made her think it was some time around noon.
"Hello the trees!" the first man suddenly called out.
"Hello the birds!" a voice in the distance replied.
Amber saw more shapes moving in the trees, their forms difficult to distinguish, perfectly blending with their surroundings.
A small party of Dunfolk came into view, a deer held on a pole between two of them, its eyes rolled back into its head.
They stared curiously at Amber while she regarded them back. They appeared to be quite alike. The easiest way to distinguish one from the other was by the style of feathering on their arrows and the tattoo pattern on their cheeks.
Amber saw more of the Dunfolk ahead, and suddenly they emerged from the trees into an immense clearing. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Amber could see the sky. The sun beamed down warmly from above; she instantly felt a brightening of her spirits.
Dunfolk were everywhere. Many were busying about preparing food, fletching arrows, grinding roots, scraping skins, or repairing their tiny huts. Yet many were also sleeping in hammocks slung between two saplings, snoring with expressions of contentment.
They continued through what Amber now realised was a village, then after a short path in the denser forest they entered another clearing. Taking stock, Amber saw clearing after clearing, all filled with the Dunfolk, laughing as they worked. There were so many of them!
"Welcome to Loralayalana!" the hunter with the bird on his cheek called out, jumping and capering in the air, while the first man laughed.
Amber had always pictured them mysteriously nestled in the undergrowth. She couldn’t believe this vibrant, pulsing culture was hidden away on the very doorstep of Sarostar, nestled in the north Dunwood.
"It’s… It’s amazing…" she breathed.
The two hunters with her grinned, seemingly pleased with her reaction.
"We will take you to the Tartana now," the first said.
"No, no. I just want to go to a healer. My friend is sick."
He frowned. "We are taking you to the Tartana."
Amber sighed. "I guess we’re going to the Tartana then."
After passing village after village, they entered a clearing that was even bigger than the others. Five of the great trees stood evenly around a large hut, the walls of which were decorated with animal drawings and scenes of the forest.
"Is this the Tartana?" Amber said.
The first man looked at her sideways. "Did that arrow hit your head? The Tartana is inside."
"Hello, the trees!" the man with the bird tattoo called.
"Hello, the birds!" a voice replied from within the hut.
Without further ceremony, they entered, drawing aside a thin curtain. Amber stooped to avoid hitting her head on the low doorframe.
"Oh, what have we here?" a tiny man sitting up on a chair said, peering down at them. He finished picking at some kind of bird, chomping his gums and throwing the bones aside.
He was withered beyond belief, seeming like a bag of meat and bones, but he had a devilish twinkle to his eyes, which were framed by immense white eyebrows.
"Tartana, this is a young deer we found in the forest," the man with the bird tattoo said seriously.
"A young deer?" the Tartana frowned.
&nb
sp; "Well," he frowned also. "I am sure she is dear to someone."
Instantly everyone in the room burst into fits of laughter. Amber saw tears coming out of the Tartana’s eyes.
Amber suddenly felt terrible, waiting here while Ella was sick, close to dying.
"Tartana," Amber said. Instantly all of the faces in the room sobered. She faltered under the Tartana’s gaze, disturbed by the quick change in the mood. "My friend is sick, near to death. She grows closer as we speak."
"I have never heard of a plant called ‘closer’," the Tartana said. "And how can she be growing this plant if she is near to death?"
The hunter with the bird tattoo stifled a laugh.
"Tartana, I respectfully request the assistance of a healer. Please, I need a healer. Now."
"A healer? You mean an apolaranasan?"
"Yes!" Amber eventually broke. "Yes, if that’s what you call it! I need a healer!"
The Tartana made a soothing motion with his hands. "Do not get angry, young one. But you should leave this place, and tend to your friend, for I cannot help you."
"Lord of the Sky! I was told by Miro, he said you could help me, that you could provide a healer who could help my friend."
"That name means nothing to me," the Tartana said.
"Skylord scratch you! He would not have sent me here for nothing, and I will not leave without a healer!"
A slow change came over the Tartana. His countenance grew dark, the wrinkles getting deeper in his forehead, his eyes sinking deeply, giving him a ferocious glare.
"You make demands on me? You, young girl of the Alturans, or the Halrana, or wherever you are from? You, who came here and called the Eternal false, who scratched his countenance from our temples? Be gone from here, foolish girl, and be lucky to take your life with you."
Amber cowered beneath his glare, the terrible tirade coming from such a small figure. "Please…" was all she could say.
"I said get gone with you," said the Tartana.
"He said you would help. Their nurse, she was one of you."
The two hunters began to drag Amber from the hut.
"Their nurse… Her name was… Her name was… Alarana!"
The Tartana waved the two men to a stop. "Alarana?"
"Yes, Alarana."
"Alarana," the Tartana said. "Little Alarana. She left Dunholme, in my seventieth year, and she returned, speaking of two children. She is no longer with us."
Amber realised the Tartana must be terribly old. "Yes, that’s right. Two children, Miro and Ella. Tartana, please, Ella is gravely ill. Can you help?"
The Tartana paused, thinking for a moment. He finally nodded. "We will help."
16
The Lord of the Sun said, ‘Let Stonewater be marked with my favour. It is a holy place, and special to me. Let the greatest of our relics reside here. Let the shape of the mountain guide the people’s gaze to the heavens. For one day, we shall return.’
— The Evermen Cycles, 9-14
MIRO lifted Ella’s head and rearranged the pillow. She had grown colder; the fever had worsened. At one stage she had become so hot the skin on her shoulders had blistered, bright red and fiery. She had screamed with the pain of it, clutching at Miro, unseeing.
It was one of the worst sights he had ever seen. The pain she was in — the ravages of her sickness — cut him deeply.
The day had come and gone. He hadn’t once left her side, bathing her head with cool cloths when she needed it, willing her to be strong.
Ella now lay still. Miro almost preferred it when she was writhing, at least then she was noticeably alive. Now he had to rest his ear against her mouth to hear and feel the softness of her breath.
He sat on the floor beside the bed.
Miro remembered much more than Ella. He remembered Alarana talking about the Eternal, teaching him the prayers. He wished that Ella remembered more. She said it was just a blur, a scent that stirred a vague feeling. When she tried to grab hold of the memory, it was gone.
Miro prayed. It was a prayer Alarana had taught him, from his childhood.
"Eternal. One who watches and waits. Lead us forward, protect us and shelter us. Shelter us from our failings. Shelter us from the failings of others. Show us the way. Shelter this one who is given into your care." He thought he heard a soft voice join with his. "Shelter the body, mind and soul. May our fathers, and their fathers, watch us from your embrace."
Miro looked up. Amber stood watching silently. A small, determined-looking woman waited at her side; it was her voice he had heard. The woman wore a soft mantle of precious fur, the garb of a Dunfolk healer.
Miro looked up at Amber. She looked awful, her dress torn, strands of shrub in her hair, her breathing heavy, her knees buckling with exhaustion. She looked beautiful. "Thank you," he whispered.
~
"HER spirit is broken" the healer said.
Her name was Layla. She was actually quite young, almost pretty, her small features youthful and innocent, yet her mouth set with resolve.
"What do you mean?"
"Simply, she does not want to live."
"What can you do?"
"Me? I can do nothing."
Miro’s shoulders slumped. Amber put her arm around his shoulders.
Layla continued, "It is what you can do."
Miro looked up. "What can I do?"
"You can bring her back. Both of you. You can convince her to live. Before I can mend her body, I need you to help mend her soul."
"How?"
"I will show you." Layla moved to stand behind Miro and Amber. With gentle pressure on their shoulders, she pushed them down until they were kneeling beside Ella’s bed.
Ella was so still. Her lips had turned blue and her face was as white as death.
"She is close now, so very close."
"Please," Miro said. "Help her."
In a small clay bowl, the healer ground together some powders with a little water to form a thick liquid.
"Do you want her to live? Think long and hard about your reasons for wanting her to live. You will not have long."
Miro gulped. "I do."
"I do," Amber echoed.
"Be ready," Layla said. She leaned forward, and deftly dripped a small amount of the liquid into Ella’s mouth.
Ella whimpered. Miro held his breath. Then she opened her eyes and parted her dry lips. "Miro? What…? What is it? Where am I?"
"Ella," Miro said, his voice ragged; he knew he had little time. "You’re ill. Very ill. I need you to live. Please. I need you to live, because…" A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek. "Because, without you I have no one else."
Amber spoke, "Ella. Please, listen to me. I need you to live, don’t fall from me, please, don’t push me away."
Amber broke down, crying. Ella’s eyes closed.
Layla said nothing. She reached for a mug she had prepared, an amber-coloured liquid filling it to the brim.
Little by little, Layla dripped the liquid into Ella’s mouth, moistening the parched lips, the dry throat.
She took Miro and Amber’s hands each in hers and led them from the room.
"She will sleep now, and let us hope the will to live reasserts itself. I have prepared herbs that will help her rest and recover," she handed Miro a pouch, "and other herbs that will need to be mixed with water and slowly fed to her continuously." She handed Miro a second pouch. "I’m sure you did your best, Alturan, but she has been days without food or water, and needs her body to rebuild its strength."
Layla left without another word.
"Thank you," Amber called after her.
~
IT was a slow and steady process but eventually Ella’s colour started to improve and her strength began to return.
Amber and Miro alternated periods of caring for her so that she could continue with her studies at the Academy and he at the Pens.
Life continued in Sarostar. The two spoke little to each other, united by their bond of caring for Ella.
Occasionally Amber’s hand would brush across Miro’s, or she would catch him looking at her. But neither acknowledged any feeling for the other. Amber’s plans to marry Igor Samson progressed, while Miro sought to become the warrior he knew he could be.
Then one day Miro returned from the Pens, a nasty cut under his arm where an opponent had scored him, bruised and battered from fighting in the dust. At first he didn’t believe it, but then he was certain; he could hear voices.
Creeping forward, Miro kept as silent as he could. He climbed carefully up the stairs to the wooden porch, looking through the open window straight into Ella’s room.
Ella sat up in the bed, her face pale but otherwise looking well. Amber was telling her a funny story. Occasionally Ella smiled a little and spoke softly.
Miro’s heart leapt.
Ella looked up and met his eyes. Amber stopped and turned, her smile growing when saw Miro’s face.
"I’ll leave you now," Amber said.
She left Miro standing on the porch without saying a word. He thanked her with his eyes, entering the small house and replacing Amber at his sister’s bedside.
Not for the first time, Miro thought about his relationship with his sister. They had their own lives to lead, but they shared a bond, something that had kept them sane through the travails of their childhood.
"How are you?"
"I dreamt about you. Somehow I knew you were there with me."
"I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Ella. I’m sorry I left."
"No, don’t be sorry. I… I made some mistakes."
"We all make mistakes, and we all learn from them."
Ella looked away. There were no tears now, they had all been cried out.
"Do we really?"
"We do. We feel pain so that we learn. It’s only when we stop feeling pain that we should worry."
"Have you spoken to Amber? How does she feel, really?"
"Don’t worry, Ella. She understands. She really does."
Enchantress (The Evermen Saga, Book One) Page 14