The Key of Amatahns

by Elisabeth Wheatley

Chapter Four

  It was hard to tell if she was awakened by her nightmare or Karile—he snored like a drunken sailor.

  In fulfillment of her fear, she had dreamt about killing Duke Ronan. The appall of the act was still vividly fresh. Even though she had done it to save Armandius, she abhorred everything about what had happened. She had been so furious, so mad with rage when she had killed. The sheer unbridled anger Janir had felt in her heart frightened her to the core. What if it came back?

  Though it was still dark, she didn’t want to go try getting back to sleep just yet. She stood and dusted herself off, taking deep breaths and looking for something to do.

  Janir found the nearly empty leather waterskin that had been included in her pack. The river was a short walk through the woods since she had been more or less following the water source since leaving Green Haven.

  Everything appeared in order around their meager campsite. Kalbo was hobbled in the trees, Karile was a nondescript mound of grunting robe. There was not much else to consider.

  Satisfied, she entered the dense trees. The previous year’s pine needles lay on the forest floor in an earthy blanket, squishing with each step.

  She had not gone far when she stopped. She thought she had heard an echo to her footsteps. Janir spun around but saw no one. It was mostly dark, someone or something could still be watching from behind one of the trees.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” She took in her surroundings suspiciously. “Karile, if that’s you, I’ll break your nose.”

  Not a sound. After waiting a few more moments, Janir went on to the river bank. It was flowing gently, the bulk of the spring flood shouldn’t be coming for a while yet.

  Janir knelt by the riverside to fill the waterskin. A twig snapped. Setting the waterskin down quickly, she surveyed every inch of visible forest. When she spotted nothing, Janir resorted to the tree line of the opposite bank. There was a flicker of motion, but it could have been only a bird. Janir listened intently, trying to hear over the constant murmur of the river.

  Once again, there didn’t seem to be anything abnormal. Perhaps it was her nerves manifesting her fears.

  She stooped again to fill the waterskin. Chills shot up her spine as a hand touched her shoulder.

  Like a startled animal, she swung around to slap the intruder in the head with the only weapon she had. Water splashed over both of them as the waterskin struck the intruder. In a panic, she smacked a right cross in the middle of the stranger’s face. His hand went to his nose and he mumbled something in protest.

  Janir was frightened and didn’t stop to think who it might be. She grabbed a branch lying near the base of a tree and clubbed him. His arms flew up defensively and he retreated.

  “Janir!” he shouted, jumping out of reach.

  It took a moment for her to recognize him and only then did she lower her improvised weapon. “Saoven?”

  The elf offered a shrug. “If this is how you greet your friends, I’m glad we’re not on worse terms.”

  Janir swallowed. She was lucky they were friends. If he wanted, he could probably run her through with a sword faster than she could blink.

  “How—why are you here?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about his presence. Armandius had said either Saoven or Velaskas would be coming and normally she would be happy to see him, but if he had heard about what happened at Castle Caersynn…

  “I was passing through in my search for you and heard someone wandering by,” Saoven explained. “Armandius asked me to protect you, though I wonder if you need it.” He smiled teasingly, water dripping off his nose. Janir’s stomach did somersaults. “I followed you here and you know the rest.”

  Janir dropped the branch. “It’s…good to see you.”

  Saoven opened his mouth, but a rock hit the elf in the side of the head before he knew it was there. Like a skinny, freckled demon, Karile flew out of the shadows, falling upon Saoven with bony fists.

  “Enchanter, leave him alone!” Janir ordered.

  “You!” Saoven shouted, blocking the enchanter’s attack and flexing his arm back for a blow.

  “I will tear your liver out through your eyeballs!” Karile shrieked in a deranged voice. “I’ll teach you to leave me strung up in a tree!”

  “Stop!” Janir grabbed the collar of Karile’s robe. Luckily for him, the enchanter weighed little more than a sack of potatoes and she was able to drag him off before Saoven started defending himself. “Stop! He’s a friend!”

  Karile kept fighting for a moment, then cast her a confused look before fixing Saoven in a hard glare. “He has to go.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “He isn’t leaving because you don’t like him.”

  “He’s the goblin who left me in that tree!”

  Janir shot a quick glance to Saoven. He did not deny it. “Well, I’m sure he had a good reason.”

  “What are you doing here?” Saoven suspiciously glowered at the enchanter.

  Karile ignored him to thrust an accusing finger at Janir. “Traitor!”

  “He and I are old friends,” she snapped. To her ears, it seemed strange for one so young to claim the friendship of an elf, but Saoven did not correct her.

  “Really, then why did he attack you?” Karile argued.

  “It was a misunderstanding!” Janir made an irritated noise.

  “Are you still following me?” Saoven glared at Karile, towering a full head and shoulders taller.

  “I have as much right to be in this forest as you do!” the enchanter yelled belligerently.

  “Alright!” Janir wedged herself between them. “You two got off to a bad start, but we don’t have to fight.”

  Saoven looked willing to hear her words. Karile didn’t.

  Janir cleared her throat as she found herself with both of them intimately close on either side. Being around Saoven made her feel odd, but it was a good kind of odd. Janir didn’t quite have a name for it, clearing her throat a second time. “I take it you have met?”

  “He’s the one that strung me up the tree!” Karile must have thought that worth repeating as an emphatic screech. “Nincompoop goblin that he is.”

  “You would not stop following me,” Saoven snapped. “I told you my business was none of yours.”

  Janir wished she’d been strong enough to hang Karile in a tree herself. It would have made things so much simpler. “Stop it, both of you.” She wasn’t sure what they were going to do with Karile, but she didn’t want him to stay.

  “I’ll wager the goblin’s planning something diabolical. Look at that—he’s scowling at me!” Karile’s finger jabbed toward the elf.

  “Perhaps it has something to do with the fact you bashed him in the head with a very large rock,” Janir suggested.

  “A very hard rock,” added Saoven.

  “So you do concede he’s a goblin?” Karile just wouldn’t give up.

  Janir closed her eyes and silently counted backwards from ten.

  “Let it go,” the elf grumbled. “Enough of this.”

  “You attacked my friend and strung me up a tree,” Karile snapped.

  Saoven mumbled something in Elvish to the effect of “I should have thrown you in the river.”

  “Who said we were friends?” Janir demanded, regretting that she hadn’t left Karile when she had the chance.

  She would have liked to talk to Saoven without another set of ears. She wanted to know what was happening back in Green Haven and Karile shouldn’t. But the enchanter had to turn up to smack him in the head with rocks and be a general nuisance.

  “I said we’re friends and that means you are my friend whether you like it or not,” Karile said flatly.

  Janir turned to Saoven. “He’s insane.”

  “I have noticed.”

  “I am not vain!” screamed Karile.

  With resignation, Janir covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t quite sure how she had gone from Lord Caersynn’s da
ughter to mediator for a mad boy in the course of three—or was it four?—days. “I feel like I’m talking to a stump.”

  “Well, that’s not surprising. Goblins aren’t known for being smart,” Karile quipped.

  Janir bit her tongue in frustration. “You are the…oh, never mind.”

  “What will we do with the stump while we look for the Key?”

  “I don’t know. What will we do with him?” Janir wondered if any of these trees could hold Karile’s weight.

  Saoven’s glanced between them. “What are you talking about?”

  Janir shook her head. The only good thing about this madness was it kept her from thinking about Duke Ronan nearly. “I don’t know. He keeps going on about the Key of—”

  “Amatahns,” Karile interjected.

  Janir had never heard of the relic, but Saoven straightened just a little and cast a hard look at the enchanter. “Do you even know what that is?”

  “Yes, I know what that is.” Karile tried mimicking the elf’s lilting accent.

  “What exactly do you know of it?”

  “Well, I know the Argetallams can’t get it.”

  At that name, Janir froze. It was as if she was outside of time, her thoughts racing like rapids while everything else stood still. She had fervently hoped so many times over the years that she would never have to see the Lord Argetallam or any other Argetallam ever again.

  The mere mention of them brought gooseflesh to her skin. It was unlikely that Karile knew who she was. He couldn’t know, she told herself. No one but Armandius, Velaskas, and Broffy had known less than a week ago. Surely three days wasn’t enough time for someone to learn about it and send a spy to hunt her down…

  As Saoven began interrogating Karile, his words sliced through her inner thoughts like a knife through paper. “And how would you know about this?”

  Karile folded his arms across his chest. “Da hears things, which means I hear things.”

  “And who is your father, exactly?” Saoven was taking this very seriously. He looked as if he might start shaking Karile if the enchanter didn’t offer good answers.

  “Sir Marserian Kerwyn.”

  It took a moment, but Saoven seemed to recognize the name. “Captain of the border garrison at the Norwin Pass?”

  Janir wanted to hide in a very deep and dark hole. It felt wrong, this boy coming from the very province that bordered the Staspin Waste, the very region where she had been found by Armandius.

  “Yes. He didn’t take it seriously when a few of his spies reported it. I skipped off to the library and learned to take it seriously.”

  Saoven was watching Karile intently. It was said that elves could see in a person’s heart if they were lying and Janir believed it. No one was better at sifting the truth than a child of the Sylvan Forests. Luckily for Janir, as far as she knew, Saoven had never tried reading her. If he had, he would have known her secret.

  “Your father lets you listen in on reports from spies?” Saoven said it as if that was the singular most unbelievable thing he had heard in a very long time.

  Karile shrugged. “Let’s just say the southern wall isn’t as thick as he likes to think.”

  “Then why not tell your father of what you learned?”

  “I tried, but he wouldn’t believe me.” Karile must be taking this as a challenge, proving that he wasn’t lying. He looked Saoven square in the face and hardly even blinked.

  Janir felt even more uncomfortable as their staring contest stretched on. If only she could turn the conversation to anything not involving Argetallams. She had been able to avoid even speaking the name for years.

  “How about we go back to the camp and relight the fire?” Janir suggested. “It’s cold out here.” The night was actually quite mild, but she had her hopes it would work.

  The other two ignored her save for a brief gesture from Saoven that meant “momentarily.” The girl was left to stand awkwardly as their battle of the wills raged on.

  Finally, Saoven broke the silence. “Argetallams cannot be harmed by magic, but nor can they use it themselves. It seems rather pointless for them to go on an ancient treasure hunt.”

  “If an enchanter absorbed it, they could claim the enchanter,” Karile pointed out. For one who was an enchanter, he said it with admirable detachment. Most of his kind only spoke of Argetallams in whispers with sidelong glances, as one did one’s worst nightmares. “Or maybe an ally of theirs wants it.”

  Janir thought that the more likely possibility. The Argetallams had all the silks, gold, spices, and slaves they could trade, but that was dependent on their alliance with the Stlavish sultanates.

  Saoven stared very hard at the young enchanter. “What else do you know?”

  Karile looked away and shrugged. “Aside from the basic lore about where it was buried and so on and so forth…nothing.”

  Basic lore? How much was there? She had never heard of any of it and she’d always thought her education was of the highest caliber.

  It was several more moments of uncomfortably intense staring before Saoven spoke again. “Was a report made on the matter to the High Lords?”

  “I told you. Da didn’t take it seriously.”

  The elf breathed a deep sigh. “I often wonder if the world would be any more peaceful if we had wiped out the Argetallams when they were weak.”

  Karile shot her a furtive look, but didn’t say anything.

  Janir’s skin prickled and the color drained from her face. Saoven didn’t know what she was—worse, he must hate what she was. Had Velaskas kept that from him? She had known Saoven for years. Armandius trusted him enough to call him a friend. Still, not enough to let him know her secret?

  “Why didn’t you?” Janir was surprised she found her voice.

  “The Diviner at the time told us that we should show them mercy.” Saoven probably thought that a foolish thing.

  The Diviner—Janir had heard stories about him. He was a blind boy born once a generation to the world of mortals. It was said he was robbed of sight in the present for the sake of endless visions into the future.

  Karile seemed to think he should pipe up. “So instead you thought you’d corral them in the Staspin Waste?”

  “It seemed the wisest choice at the time. We have had ample time to regret it since.”

  Seeming to consider it a fact of life, Karile shrugged. He gave Janir an odd look, lingering on her for a little longer than normal, like he was expecting a response.

  “Are you well, Janir?” Saoven asked.

  Janir was staring at nothing in particular with a blank expression, not certain what to think or do.

  “What? Yes, I’m fine.” She dismissed his concerns with a forced smile. “I was just…thinking.”

  Saoven didn’t look convinced, but he let it pass. “If we are sorted here, I believe that you two must get some sleep—or what little there is left to be had.”

  He gestured for them to head back to the camp. Unerringly, he angled in the right direction. He must have scouted them quite well before making his presence known.

  Janir followed him and Karile let loose the first half of a protest, then let it drop. He trotted after the other two and joined them where the big bay stallion waited, watching intently as they emerged from the trees into the small clearing.

  Saoven’s face was styling a large bruise over a bloodshot eye. He had a collection of other bruises and scratches on his face and arms, and Janir realized with a slight pang of guilt that she had given him at least a few of them.

  “I am going to fetch my horse, she’s not far from here. I shall be back in a moment, but there is no reason for you two to wait for me. You should rest.”

  For all his adversity with the elf, Karile obeyed immediately. As if he was suddenly exhausted, the boy curled up next to the log he had been using as a pillow before and was settled within heartbeats.

  “You as well, Janir,” Saoven added.

  “What about you?” Janir seated her
self on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest.

  “I will keep watch,” he replied.

  “Keep watch? Do you really think there is danger?” Janir had supposed this high in the foothills there was nothing to fear. The fire would repel the wild animals and all humans should be far, far away.

  “It is best to be safe,” he vaguely answered.

  Janir wondered what he thought might be after them, what Armandius and Velaskas had told him. They must have offered some explanation as to why she needed protecting, but Janir hadn’t had the chance to ask. With Karile mere paces away, she was afraid to. Not only that, but she didn’t want to rouse any suspicions. The wrong question, the wrong look might give Saoven the clue or the suspicion that she had not been wholly honest with him.

  Saoven had not mentioned anything about why she was here in the mountains and not back home in Green Haven. That probably meant it was best to leave the matter for now.

  “Elves don’t sleep?” Janir wondered, reaching for her blankets.

  “Of course we sleep,” Saoven said. “But we do not need nearly as much as your kind.” He disappeared into the foliage, but she didn’t doubt he would be back as he had said.

  Janir curled up near the base of a pine, listened to the forest sounds, and tried to hear the lullaby that had lulled her to sleep these past few nights—the soft murmur of the river, the hooting of the night owl, the wind dancing in the trees’ leaves.

  She felt herself drifting off into the dream world, sliding away slowly.