by Brian Fuller
“I can see that this must be, Mother. I doubt even you could know what pains it will give me.”
Mirelle embraced her. “I can only imagine, but you have a mother’s promise that it will not last forever. My daughter will be as happy as she once was. I will not rest until she is.”
“There is something you should know,” the Chalaine offered after several moments. “When I was in the canyon, I could heal Gen without any effort. If I touched him, he healed instantly.”
Mirelle put her at arm’s length. “Chalaine!” she exclaimed before quieting her own voice. “Chalaine! You know what that means, don’t you?”
“He loves me.” The Chalaine tried to decipher Mirelle’s mood. It hovered between awed shock and feverish excitement.
“Did he see you unveiled?”
“He did. It was an accident. But the proofs of his love were there before he saw me.”
“He saw you unveiled? Did he. . .”
“No. It was the strangest thing. I could see the desire rise in his eyes, but just as he took a step toward me, he shrugged it off as if emerging from a wild dream. He wouldn’t say how he could resist me, but I walked for days with him without a veil and he never acted the least bit affected by me other than incessantly nagging me to wear it again.”
Mirelle raised her hand to her mouth, speechless while she considered her daughter’s news. “Eldaloth help us all if Athan or Chertanne ever found out! You bury that secret deep, Chalaine. You shouldn’t have told me, though I am glad that you did. This is incredible, dangerous, and wonderful.”
“But what are you feeling, Mother?”
“I am happy for you, Chalaine, and I forbid you to be sullen any more. You won the love of one of the best men to walk this world without him having seen your face. Even if you never saw him again, the fact that he loved you should teach you something about yourself. I know you are diffident, but think of Gen and ask yourself what kind of woman he would love, and I mean truly love. That is who you are. If only every woman could have such a sure sign of a love not dependent on desire!”
“I confess,” the Chalaine said, “there were times I wished the desire was there. I would really like to know what it is like to be kissed by a man who feels for me as he does. You kissed him, after all.”
Mirelle’s voice turned sad. “He told you about that, then? His heart wasn’t in it, unfortunately. Apparently, it belonged to you. Don’t think his passion for you wasn’t there within him, though. You know him well enough to know that he would never give into it. To think that I ever thought he loved Fenna. Oh, Chalaine, I hope he still lives.”
“He does.”
“You know this?”
“I think so,” she answered, not ready to reveal the animon or what it meant. “I think I will know when he is dead. I will feel it.”
“It could be a bond formed between you by the same affinity that allows you to heal him. If he is still alive, then he very likely has escaped Elde Luri Mora. This is good news. All is not lost. You have given me much to think about, and, in turn, you think about what I said.”
“I will.”
Mirelle kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, daughter.”
The Chalaine spread her damp blanket and lay down with her arms wrapped around her. She felt the faint warmth of Gen’s animon against her side, the night’s terror feeding her longing for him. She had always had many occasions to act other than she felt, and she wondered why it was now, when pretending was most needed, that she could no longer do it. The role fate asked her to play had changed from her first imaginings of her duty, its nature more alien and unnatural than it ever had been. She was a novice actress asked to deliver the most difficult lines of a dramatic play to an audience that was, at best, disinterested in anything she said or felt.
But the challenge of her evolving role could not explain away all her inability to perform it. She had changed, too, and Gen’s hands were the ones wet from shaping her clay. He taught her to see her calling and herself as two different entities, and whenever he talked with her, she sensed she had worth outside of her role as the Chalaine. He taught her to despise abject submission and degrading self-abnegation. Most of all, his companionship in the canyon showed her she was interesting beyond her beauty and calling, that she was worthy of the love of an honorable, powerful man.
What would you do to see him again? She asked herself. Anything, came the reply. Then do it. Act the part. Endure it well. Comfort followed resolution, and she cleared her mind, preparing herself for what awaited her in dream.
A horse’s dying scream, the first for hours, carried faintly on the breeze and startled her from her half-sleep.
“That’s all of them,” she heard Jaron whisper from behind her.
“You’ve been counting?” Cadaen asked in turn.
“You haven’t?”
“I didn’t see much point,” her Mother’s Protector confessed. “When I saw those creatures chase them out, I gave them up completely. Damnedest horrible things I have ever seen.”
“You’ve the right of it there. We are in grave danger, my friend. Whatever his insolence and disrespect, Chertanne was right about one thing—we were not prepared for this. Only the hand of God will get us home.”
The Chalaine shuddered. Gen had not taught her courage, and she could no longer lean on his.
Chapter 53 - The Master of Echo Hold
Gerand gripped the reins of the horse, walking in front of it while Volney sat behind Gen in the saddle to keep him from falling off. Two days after they had passed through the gates of Elde Luri Mora on their way north, the smooth, even road that led their steps to the holy city had sunk completely beneath the earth, the city bidding farewell to its visitors and declining to invite more. A pleasant, grassy track remained in its stead, awaiting seed, sun, and time to clog it with tree and bush.
They progressed little the first two days from Elde Luri Mora with Gen tied semiconscious to the horse and the other two afoot. By the third day, Gerand guessed that the warding protection of Elde Luri Mora would no longer avail them, and they left the road whenever the rocky, mountainous terrain permitted to hide from unfriendly eyes.
Gerand’s heart eased as Gen gradually improved. The farther they pushed north the third day, the more his pale skin regained its color and tone. His eyes opened more frequently, and his posture straightened from its pain-induced constriction. He talked only once to inform them that the Chalaine was well north and east of them and that catching up with them would be impossible if they followed her party’s exact route.
“Our best chance,” he suggested weakly, “is to go north and intercept them when they turn west.”
The fourth day saw them passing through a tight valley between two pine covered mountains, the trail paralleling a deep stream bordered by a thick mass of shoulder high bushes that covered the entire valley floor with long, thin leaves. The sound of deer and moose crashing through the undergrowth brought their hands to weapons for fear of an Uyumaak ambush.
By midday Gen hopped down from the saddle and walked for the rest of the afternoon. The look on the Chalaine’s former Protector’s face worried Gerand. Gen often hid his emotions, but he was clearly anguished now. Volney tried conversation with him, but Gen was not amenable. Gerand judged it best to steer clear.
As night approached, they encountered a massive, flat-topped boulder that afforded them a view downstream and a defensible place to sleep. After tying the horse to a tree near the stream and a mound of thick grass, they climbed the gray stone, its sides roughened by pale green lichen, wind, and water. The mountains on the east and west blocked their view of the sunset, shadows and skies quickly deepening to black. The soft trickle of water and light woodland breezes relaxed tense muscles as they ate their poor fare.
Gerand rose as they finished their meal and crossed to Gen, unbuckling Aldradan’s sword. “Here, Gen. I think you’re fit enough to use it.”
Gen took it wordlessly, lying back with the sw
ord across his chest and falling directly asleep. Volney cast a worried look at Gerand who shrugged and said, “I’ll take first watch.”
Gerand awoke Volney some hours later and slept little. A bitter chill descended on the valley near dawn, pulling Gerand permanently from sleep. He stretched to try to dispel the cold, noting a light frost that had settled on the leaves and grass.
Gen had relieved Volney from his watch and now sat at the edge of the rock to watch the indistinct movements of large animals wandering slowly and concealed through the bushes and trees. During one of his sleepless bouts during the night, Gerand found Gen silently practicing sword forms, no doubt limbering his body and strengthening muscles weak from disuse. While he looked much better than he had four days ago, the indisposition he had suffered darkened his face and hollowed his cheeks.
Gerand stood and Gen nodded to him, coming to his feet.
Gen nudged Volney with his boot. “Let’s go.”
“But it’s still dark,” Volney grumbled, one eye looking heavenward through the barest of slits.
“The valley walls hold back the day, but it is broken,” Gen prodded, beginning his descent down the rock. “Long days and short nights are what we need now if we are to catch the Chalaine’s party and have enough food.”
Gerand helped Volney up. They collected their belongings and descended the rock, numb fingers aching as they gripped the cold, rough stone. They ate on the trail, the path switchbacking down a series of wooded ridges that sloped down to an open plain. Near midday, they stopped where the trees parted to show them a fertile grassland stretching north, a low line of hills forming its eastern edge. The plain, bathed in the warm morning sun, stretched west for several miles from the hills, ending in an abyss at the shard’s edge.
“We should cover some good distance down there,” Gerand speculated.
“There could be Uyumaak out there,” Volney inserted less enthusiastically. “They must have left at least a company of them to cover the road.”
“No,” Gen disagreed. “If they were going to attack, they would have done so in the valley we just left. They have the Chalaine’s trail and have marched north and east in pursuit. We should be at our ease for at least a week.”
“And how is the Chalaine?” Gerand asked, hoping to keep Gen talking. “What do you feel?”
“She is well.”
“Will you let us know of any change in her condition?” Gerand asked.
“Of course.”
Volney patted Gen on the shoulder. “I am certainly glad to have you back. I’m sure the Chalaine misses you. I think she was very fond of you. The First Mother, too.”
Gen’s dark look took Gerand aback.
“Listen, both of you,” Gen said, stopping them under the shade of an ancient pine. “If we can intercept the Chalaine’s party, we will shadow it for as long as we can but not approach. If we can get through the Portal and back to Rhugoth, you must split from me and seek what fortune you can. I thank you for coming for me, though I would rather you had stayed with the Chalaine and let me die. I have failed the Chalaine badly.” He paused, mastering some emotion. “You should despise me, and so should she.”
“You are too hard on yourself!” Volney exclaimed.
“No, Volney. Gerand understands, and you will too, in time. I have but one purpose for my life, and that is to see the Chalaine safe and happy if I can. Because I tried to kill Chertanne, I will be an outlaw forever, hunted and on the run. The two of you may share a similar fate. You owe me no allegiance, but swear this to me, that no matter what circumstances you find yourselves in, you will never cease to work for the Chalaine’s cause, and I do not just mean her physical protection, to which you are already sworn. I mean her comfort, her pleasure, her happiness. I doubt either of you know the tenth of her suffering, some, now, of my infliction. Swear that you will aid me in relieving it, even if I fall.”
Gerand did understand Gen’s pain, but understood Volney’s point, as well. Something was off about Gen’s emotions, something Gerand couldn’t quite place. He was ashamed, but not necessarily of losing the Protectorship. Regardless, Gerand would support him.
“I swear it,” Gerand promised, Volney following suit.
Gen thanked them and pressed on, eyes calm and step falling more lightly now. Gerand’s mind was packed full of questions he hadn’t the courage to ask their severe swordmate. After he and Volney had taken their oaths, Gen kept well ahead of them on the trail and did not seek company. What conversation he offered tended only to the practical, all matters of emotion, conjecture, and opinion vouchsafed quietly within himself.
During the next several days they found evidence of the departed Uyumaak as they hiked quickly across the open plain. The damp ash of old cook fires, crumbling feces, and abundant tracks all indicated a hasty movement to the east to intercept the Chalaine and her companions. As a consequence, Gerand worried little about any immediate encounter with the Uyumaak, and with Gen’s blessing they traded stealth for speed.
The nights upon the plain grew colder, and what food they had did little to assuage their hunger, though Gerand noted that Volney was the only one who complained openly. Only the horse fed well on the abundant grasses of the field.
“I believe they have lost or abandoned the horses,” Gen informed the others near midday three days out on the plain.
“How can you tell that?” Volney asked.
Gerand answered for Gen. “Their rate of travel.”
“Yes,” Gen confirmed. “They have turned northwest and are moving very slowly. I think their enemies or harsh terrain dictate their path now. They do not travel in a straight line, and they stop frequently.”
“We must hurry to catch them,” Volney said, face scrunched in worry. “I know that Chertanne swore he would kill you, and he would likely do the same to us, but they could not but welcome our presence if their circumstances are dire.”
“We will help as we can,” Gerand assured him, patting him on the back.
“And there is another problem,” Gen added. “I think they are on the opposite side of the Dunnach River canyon. If we cannot cross at Dunnach Falls Bridge, then we will have to turn West on Echo Hold Road and meet them back where the caravan first ascended into the mountains. We will likely outstrip them, but if they don’t hurry out of the mountains, the weather will be a more threatening danger than the Uyumaak.”
As if to mark his point, for the next two days their view of the steadily nearing Far Reach Mountains was obscured by bouts of cold rain falling from low clouds to feed the yellowing grasses at their feet. Moisture soaked into their clothes, boots, and hair, everything a sopping, dripping mess. When the sun finally splashed upon the left side of their faces one late afternoon, they stopped and stripped what they comfortably could to let the articles dry in the weak warmth.
The next day they started their grueling ascent into the mountains. Damp pines thickened as they hiked the foothills through gullies and depressions. They were forced to slaughter the horse for meat, divvying up the remainder of the scanty supplies among them. While difficult, the trail rewarded them for their efforts. The maples and aspens blossomed in bright yellow clumps amid a field of dark evergreens, though many had cast over half of their foliage to the ground. Cloudy mountain streams, swelled temporarily by the autumn rain, complicated fording in several spots, forcing them to lose time hunting for shallower waters or bridges formed by deadfall.
By late afternoon, they ascended a steep ridge, hoping for a view of the Echo Road which their northward tack would force them to cross. Clouds, a deep blue-gray, adorned the sky in patternless clumps, a stiff wind pushing them northwest. The trees thinned as harder rock near the top of the ridge denied the roots an easy purchase into the earth, scraggly bushes and grasses thrusting up unhealthily from shallow cracks dotting the pale brown rock.
Gen stopped, raising his hand to signal his companions to hold up. He dropped quickly to the ground. Gerand and Volney followed suit, crawling
to catch up with Gen.
“I heard thumping on the wind,” Gen reported quietly. “Let’s approach the ridge cautiously and low.”
Gerand was grateful that Gen increasingly took command, thankful to see his sure, experienced manner taking hold again. The three of them got on their bellies and worked their way gradually upward. Volney noisily sucked air through his teeth, and Gerand shot him a cautionary look.
Volney grimaced, picking a large sliver out of his hand. Gerand resumed his climb. He recognized the necessity for stealth, but his knees and elbows complained at the bruising they received as they clambered over the hard stone. At the top of the ridge, a convenient group of boulders allowed them to walk at a crouch and peer at the scene below them.
The convergence of three ridges formed a roughly circular meadow. A lazy river ran on the eastern edge of the glade, a broken, uneven road running along its banks. In places, the road disappeared completely, overtaken by water and tall grass. Another road branched from that one, running west, dodging out of sight behind the trees on the far side of the clearing. To their dismay, nearly two hundred Uyumaak encamped about the intersection. They milled about aimlessly, an obscenity squirming in a womb of alpine beauty.
“The road branching west leads to Echo Hold,” Gen explained, leaning back against the rock. “If we can’t find a way around, we will have to fight our way through.”
“But that’s two hundred Uyumaak!” Volney exclaimed. “I know you have Aldradan’s sword, Gen, but. . .”
“Calm yourself, Volney,” Gen admonished curtly. “And speak quietly. They hear much better than you think. I hope we can be clever enough to avoid such a confrontation. This ridge intersects with the one at the far side, and on the other side of that is the road. It may be possible to climb over the ridge and get onto the road behind them. We may have to deal with a patrol or two, but the mountain road will be much more defensible than this open field. If either of you have a better idea, I am open to suggestion.”