The Elf and the Amulet

by Chris Africa

  "For one of her kind," the first woman added.

  "She is also a sorceress."

  Sorceress? Nita perked up. They thought she was a sorceress. Maybe that would work to her advantage. Her guard loomed, whip at the ready. She decided to keep her mouth shut and ears open.

  The leader studied the faces of his supplicants. "Very well, ten stripes each, delivered immediately."

  The women moved to the side, where Nita was horrified to see a third woman whip them with the same type of device that had been used on her and Samuel. Blood flowed from the women's backs, but not a single cry came from their mouths.

  She glanced back at Samuel, who was being removed from his clothing by two Dalatois men. Despite his struggles, it looked as easy for them as stripping a baby.

  "Wait! Wait! What about me?" Samuel cried. "My customs are the same as hers."

  The Dalatois leader turned his head away in apparent disgust, but one of Samuel's captors answered, "You are a traitor to your own kind. How can you now claim their customs?"

  "We find you unworthy," said another. "You will become as those you hate. When you have regained your honor, then you will have learned to love who you have become."

  Nita was still trying to sort out that last statement when she was hoisted up behind one of the Northmen, his lean olive back blotting out the road ahead of them.

  The Dalatois were a people of few words, merely nodding now and then as they passed each other in the stream of horses. The small group quickly caught up with the larger one. Nita now estimated there could be as many as three hundred riders, with half again that many extra horses serving as reserves or pack animals, but the only sound was the rumble of the horses' hooves and the occasional whinny.

  Eventually they broke into a meadow of wild flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. Nita had no idea where they were going, save that they were traveling into the sun, which at this time of day would take them on a westerly heading, or slightly northwest. As they broke free of the last of the trees, the leader signaled, and the horses slowed and finally stopped. Each of the Northmen drove a pike into the ground and tied down his or her own horse. Nita was lifted down and guided to an open area with a dozen horses arrayed around it, where one of the men distributed dry meat.

  "Sit," her captor ordered, and handed her a chunk of the meat. He did not untie her hands, so she ate and drank awkwardly lifting both hands to her face. When the meal seemed finished, several members of the group began crooning a strange wordless melody full of highs and lows, fast and slow parts. Gradually she heard the song emanating from other directions and realized the entire camp was singing. The last voice died away as the final rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon.

  "Sleep," one of the Northmen ordered, tossing her a scratchy blanket. They slept without a fire, back to back, with Nita at the center. She would have to fly out of the center of the camp to escape without notice.

  Nita lay down face to face with another woman.

  "Where are you taking me?" she whispered. There were no whips around now, so she could only hope it was safe to speak.

  "The Nydwon will see you. Go to sleep."

  22: Andrev Talks

  Faces swam in and out of Chassy's blurred vision for what seemed like eternity. Twice he tried to speak, but his lips would barely move before he fell helplessly silent. A dull throbbing somewhere in his body prevented him from sleeping soundly, but somehow he could not quite wake. Andrev and William argued softly—he could tell by Andrev's tone—but Chassy could not be troubled to intercede, or even to clearly consider their arguments.

  "That is wrong," Andrev insisted. "According to everything I’ve read, boiling leaches the beneficial effects of the root. It must be applied full strength after only a gentle simmer."

  William shook his head. "You misremember your books, boy, and I’ve used this a hundred times on the field. Boiling helps to draw out the infection and seal the wound."

  "Fine, boil it if you must. But you can carry him when he loses his foot," Andrev growled.

  William poured something over Chassy's wound and wrapped his foot.

  "Give him some more of that tea," he ordered. "That should bring his fever down now that we’ve cleansed the wound. As soon as he is able, we have to be on the move again. If you give me another word of argument, I will move on without you, and leave the two of you to find your own way in the wilderness."

  Andrev poured some sickly-sweet liquid in Chassy's mouth, which he did his best to swallow.

  "So, you’re looking for an elf."

  "We never said we were looking for an elf," Andrev said.

  "Only an elf would have the skills to sneak alone through the Blackwood unnoticed by the rabble that infests it, or possibly an agent of the underworld itself. But a demon or other evil being would never be able to remain in human city without attracting much notice. So it would seem reasonable to assume you seek an elf."

  "What difference does it make who we’re looking for?" Andrev asked.

  "Actually, it makes little difference, except to my scouts, who need a description to find anyone. No, who it is makes little difference. Now, why? That is the question that requires answering. Why are you chasing and being chased? You see my predicament, don’t you? Those who follow you believe you are with whomever you are seeking, and now they have connected you with me. Why shouldn’t I turn your unbelievably inept hides over to the Northmen?"

  Chassy tried to respond, but quickly forgot what he was trying to say.

  "You requested that we travel together," Andrev said. "In fact, even when you knew danger was approaching, you fled with us. It is your choice to leave now if you wish."

  "It never occurred to me I would be running from half-giants and Northmen."

  "It never occurred to us, either," Andrev said.

  "What did occur to you? What did you think you were doing?" William asked.

  There was a moment of silence.

  "I have an answer for you," William said. "You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with. Elves' reasons for mixing with humans are complicated and rarely good."

  "What does that mean?" Andrev asked.

  "Elves who leave the forest are normally rogues of some sort or another, and cannot be trusted. They are driven by greed or corruption. Or, they have been exiled for crimes we can only imagine," William explained. "This elf you are chasing is nothing but trouble, but you didn't know that when you started out, did you?"

  They actually did know Lyear was a little dangerous, Chassy thought. He decided that William was either very good at deduction, or he knew things he shouldn't. "But what you’re telling me makes no difference. We are sworn to find this man regardless of the danger it poses to us," Andrev said.

  "Then you and your friends are utter fools. If you want to keep your secrets, then keep them! But I’m going my own way. I will not continue to put myself and my men in danger because three little children refuse to place their trust with me."

  Then something strange happened. Someone started to giggle. Andrev? Chassy tried to open his eyes, but they felt weighed down by stones.

  "Are you mad?" William growled. "Stop making all that noise."

  Andrev giggled again. He sounded delirious. "You call us children, when you can’t grow a beard, and secretive, when we don’t even know what cargo we’re supposed be guarding." He snorted.

  "Fair is fair. I’ll tell you my story, if you tell yours," William said. "Then we can decide if we truly wish to remain companions."

  "If I am to tell our story, you must be sworn to remain with us," Andrev said. "I can’t let you leave after knowing our secret. Either you are a friend to us, or you are not."

  "I so swear," William said.

  " I swear the same," Andrev said. "So what’s your cargo?"

  For a few minutes, William said nothing. Chassy felt William's hand on his cheek.

  "He’s cooler already. It shouldn’t be long now," he said finally.

&nbs
p; "Your cargo?" Andrev prompted.

  "Weapons," William said.

  "Weapons? Why are you carrying weapons? There’s no war. Are you planning to start one?"

  "I wouldn’t call it a war. Have you heard of the Wizards of the True Faith?" William asked.

  "Well, they’re not wizards at all, actually more like anti-wizards. They practice something they call 'magical suppression,' which prevents other wizards from practicing magic. It is their belief that the disturbance of the ether, that which permits and enables magic, is an abomination in the eyes of their god, whom they have named Tche-ha. The movement was started by a man named Gnarkvetch, who left the wizard’s haven in Xillith after this Tche-ha was revealed to him in a vision."

  "He doesn’t believe in the gods?" Andrev asked.

  Chassy thought everyone believed in the gods.

  "Oh, yes, he believes in the gods. But he believes that they’re subject to this new god Tche-ha, that they are lesser than Tche-ha and, in fact, take orders from him," William said.

  After leaving the wizard’s island, Gnarkvetch sailed to South Gardens, where he began preaching his odd beliefs and collecting followers. Two tenets of the strange faith seemed to disturb William in particular: first, the worship of the "old" gods was blasphemy; second, the only justified use of magic was to suppress any other use of magic.

  "They put to death any who use magic aside from the ascribed purpose, whether for healing or self-defense. They pacify anyone condoning the use of magic. Gnarkvetch plans to gather his army to travel northward and eventually destroy the people of the north, where he believes lies the root of this evil," William said.

  "Ignorant fools!" Andrev growled. "Rehn and Falise together represent the balance of magic and reason. They cannot exist apart from each other. And there is no higher god. The oldest texts tell us this."

  "There is a group of men, small but powerful, at Fort True. This is where I am taking the weapons. But they must remain a secret from Gnarkvetch's forces, or the resistance will be crushed before it is strong enough to crack them."

  So William wasn’t just another merchant, he was a resistance fighter. Chassy had heard stories about resistances, but it seemed that they were always put down. It took a revolution, not just a small group of fighters, to turn a political tide.

  "What about the Queen? Surely she could do something about it," Andrev said.

  William snorted. "The Queen has adopted Gnarkvetch as a powerful ally. You see, wizards in general tend not to ally themselves with leaders and movements. This one has. And what queen wouldn't like to have a wizard for a friend?"

  "You’re going to fight the wizard and the queen’s army too? That’s a fool's plan, if I ever heard one," Andrev said. "You and your little army of merchants? Well, don’t think you’re going to get us in the middle of it. We have enough trouble of our own to worry about."

  "Really?" William said. "If you believe in the old gods and in magic, then you’re already in the middle of it. The blood just hasn’t reached your doorstep yet. Besides, there is hope, even for a lowly band of merchants."

  "What kind of hope?" Andrev asked.

  Chassy shifted his arm. His head hurt less now, but he didn't want to interrupt.

  "Ah, he is moving. This is good," William said, apparently dropping the entire subject. "Before, he was so fevered he had no sense of his own comfort. Now, at least, he knows he is not in his own bed. You seem well read, Andrev. Have you read Jebbita Sprach?"

  "I have heard of it, but never read it. The barely coherent ramblings of an old blind woman who lived alone in the Blackwood, so I’ve heard."

  "For two hundred seventy summers and a day she met not another soul," William said. "And there are those of us who believe her writings to be prophetic in nature."

  "She heard voices," Andrev said.

  "Are you so sure? Well, perhaps you should read and judge for yourself. Here—"

  "Is the leather dyed?" Andrev asked.

  "It’s the skin of some Blackwood creature. Who can tell?" William said.

  "Jebbita Sprach: Speaking to Jebbita," Andrev said. His voice was scornful. "She was a madwoman."

  "Even the ramblings of a madwoman can contain a grain of truth," William said.

  23: Another Nydwon

  The third day of Nita's captivity found her in another stand of trees. Smoke rose in a thick column above the trees, and the roar of water announced a river even before they broke into a small clearing.

  Nita gasped as her horse stepped through the trees. The river in front of them was so wide she could barely make out the Dalatois on the other side, and it was so fast and strong that even the massive horses would be easily dragged down in its current. A gray stone bridge, broad enough for two wagons to pass, arched over the river, held aloft from the bruising torrent by a dozen pillars of stone larger around than the Mother Tree. How had the builders managed to drag those into place with all that water rushing around them?

  As the sea of horses flowed onto the bridge, Nita peered out over the dizzying edge. The water seemed to burst from between the columns and rush forward in a straight line. It would be flowing from the mountains, which meant it was going toward Sunoa. She wondered what would happen if she tried to jump. Probably crack her head and drown. Besides, going back to Sunoa might be futile. The last she had seen, half-giants were breaking and burning everything in sight. Surely Chassy and Andrev had managed to escape. She only hoped they had gotten away together. If not, Andrev could probably survive on his own in the woods, assuming he could find enough food, but in the world of people he was a lost cause. She was more worried about Chassy, who was just as likely to kill himself accidentally eating poison berries. She was sure they would never find Lyear now.

  On the other side of the bridge, the road divided, and several more prisoners and Dalatois joined the group. They started off into the trees again. It was a younger forest, still thin enough in the upper branches to allow a dappled spray of light on the ground.

  Except for the muffled thump of the horses' unshod hooves, there was no noise from the Northmen or the other prisoners, and the sounds of the woods came through. Birds called to each other, chipmunks raced around a tree. Great zygmore trees lined their path on both sides, their leaves so broad and thick they could be cinched up on the edges and used as bowls. At times the trees and brambles pressed close enough to the path that the great mounts had to go in pairs to get through. In the Blackwood, such narrow paths felt suffocating and ominous. Here, she might have whistled a merry harvest tune if she hadn't been a captive.

  "Do you have a name?" Nita asked her guard.

  The Dalatois gave her a stony look. "It is not our custom to offer our names. I am, as most of those around you, Alav. It means, 'of the horse,' in your tongue. Be quiet."

  After another day, they broke into a clearing where a single Dalatois waited for them. He spoke with the leader, motioning toward Nita. Her stomach suddenly ached and fear chills set her to shivering so violently that her guard turned to look at her. Touching her icy hands, he frowned.

  "Are you ill?" he asked.

  She shook her head vigorously. Who knew what they would do to try to heal her?

  After speaking to the newcomer for several minutes, the leader—"Tsen" was the name the Dalatois gave him—motioned everyone forward. The trees thinned to a trickle. They emerged into an open plain, where a riot of red, yellow and orange wildflowers rippled in the wind. The road wound around a boulder and out of sight. Across the field was another great crowd of Dalatois.

  Nita's guard cast a worried look over his shoulder.

  "This one is ill, Tsen."

  "She is afraid, not ill," the Tsen said without so much as a glance in Nita's direction. Outrage bloomed in Nita, making her face hot, but the chills remained. How dare he assume she was afraid? How could he know that?

  A small party had broken off and was traveling toward them. In minutes, they were close enough for her to see the litter bearing the Ny
dwon she was to meet being carried at a running pace by four young men. As at the Two Pumpkin, he came without any extra guards or escort. Nita waited anxiously to see if this was the same one. The litter stopped, and Nita's guard pulled her down off the horse with him. He untied her wrists and then knelt, dragging her down to a kneeling position. Her shivering was so severe she could hardly stay on her knees. He cast her a ferocious look as if to tell her to stop, but she couldn’t control herself.

  "Nydwon, we hear and obey," he said in a rough voice. "Here is the girl child, unharmed." Something dropped to the ground beside him. "Her belongings are in this pack, untouched as you requested."

  "Stand her up, so I can see her," the Nydwon demanded. The guard dragged Nita back to her feet. "Do not look down, girl."

  Nita looked up and realized this Nydwon was nothing like the one she had met in Waet. His voice was loud and harsh, his eyes small and cruel. He looked at Nita with a mixture of arrogance and disgust. And he had a mark on his forehead, which she couldn't see with her eyes averted.

  Nita tried to stay calm as she thought of this Nydwon and his servants digging through her things. They would find the scrying mirror. They would find the Nydwon's gem. Surely this Nydwon would recognize the importance of such a gem (though she herself wasn't entirely sure of it yet).

  "Why is she clothed? Why have you not shaven her?" the Nydwon demanded, eyes flashing.

  "To one of her kind, it would have been demeaning," the guard said. "Two claimed the right to bear humiliation on her behalf."

  The Nydwon made a small sound like a snarl. "Then they'll bear it every night for as long as this child lives."

  "No!" Nita cried. "You must—"

  There was a sharp crack, and Nita was on the ground, cheek stinging.

  "There is nothing I must do. Now, stand and be silent."

  Nita obeyed, but the fear had gone with the slap; now she trembled with anger.

  The Nydwon adopted a posture of supplication, hands slightly upraised, palms turned toward Nita, fingers slightly spread. His eyes stared into Nita's, boring into her soul. For several moments, he held this posture motionless and unblinking. Finally, he put his hands back into his lap and smiled dreamily.