Rebel Fay

by Barb Hendee

  As conspicuous as he'd felt among humans, here it felt worse that he looked like an elf at all.

  Stunned, frightened, or angry, several of the village elves were now spitting words at Sgäile. The air filled with their noise, until the clamor made it hard to hear Sgäile's replies.

  "Wynn," Leesil whispered, "what are they saying?"

  "They accuse Sgäile of breaking sacred law," she whispered back. "He assures them he acts for Most Aged Father, that we are under guardianship."

  Osha put a finger to his lips and shook his head in warning. Wynn fell silent, and Leesil listened carefully, though he picked out few words.

  When Sgäile mentioned Aoishenis-Ahâre, half those who argued with him fell silent, some in shock, but their initial anger returned quickly enough.

  Leesil took a step forward, watching their faces. He hadn't expected Sgäile to be challenged this aggressively. Part of the reason he'd agreed to follow was so that Magiere and Wynn would have protection in this land. Now he questioned how far this guardianship custom could reach. Gradually, the voices lowered, and Sgäile appeared to convince the others to back away and let him through.

  Leesil heard and felt something grate along the chest on his back.

  The chest toppled away behind him as severed harness ropes fell down his front.

  He whirled to find Én'nish behind him, a long stiletto in her hand as she grabbed for the chest's latch. So intent in watching and listening, Leesil hadn't noticed her slip around behind him.

  Magiere saw the chest fall from Leesil's back. Én'nish dropped to a crouch, fighting with the latch.

  "No!" Magiere shouted, and made a lunge for the chest.

  Én'nish's hand shot out, flat-palming the inside of her knee.

  Magiere crumpled before getting a grip on the chest, and Én'nish flipped the chest's lid before Leesil could pull it away.

  The cloth bundle within tumbled across the ground, and the two skulls rolled into plain sight.

  Someone gasped.

  Exclamations followed that Magiere didn't understand. Pain flooded her leg and her heart quickened. Too many things happened at once. She watched helplessly as Leesil rushed for the skulls, to hide these last remains of his father and grandmother from prying eyes.

  Én'nish kicked into the side of his abdomen. Leesil stumbled beyond reach, gasping for breath, and Én'nish began shouting in Elvish.

  Wynn screamed out, "Nâ—no! Na-bithâ … it is not true!"

  Osha pulled both blades, but he stood in confusion, as if uncertain who to attack or who to defend.

  Magiere ignored the pain in her leg and scrambled up to rush Én'nish from behind.

  A grip like a manacle encircled her wrist, and she was heaved backward. She swung hard at whoever had grabbed her and caught a glimpse of Urhkar's face as he ducked the blow.

  He swept one leg against the back of her knees, dropping her instantly, and pinned her to the ground. Anger gave way to shock as she fought to get free. Urhkar bent her wrist hard, with her arm twisted around his grounded leg, and she was pinned facedown on the village green. He remained crouched over her.

  "Stay," he said calmly.

  "Get off!" she ordered.

  He didn't even respond. Anxiety stronger than rage filled Magiere.

  With one cheek against the moss, she tried to look for Leesil.

  Chap darted in front of Én'nish, snarling and snapping. She backed away, and Wynn made a dive for the skulls.

  "Én'nish told them you came to hunt elves!" she shouted to Leesil. "For trophies!"

  Magiere's stomach clenched.

  Leesil either didn't understand or didn't care as he grabbed Gavril's skull. Wynn beat him to his grandmother's and placed her hand on it. She burst into Elvish, voice full of fear as she shouted to Sgäile. The only word Magiere caught was "Eillean."

  Leesil dropped to his knees, clutching at his grandmother's skull in Wynn's arms.

  "Stop!" Wynn cried. "Be still, or they will kill you!"

  Magiere bucked again, trying to pitch off Urhkar, but he was like a stone statue above her, unmovable.

  Wynn's words didn't matter to Leesil—only the skull. He wrenched it from her, crouching with the remains of a father and grandmother wrapped in his arms.

  Sgäile's eyes were wide, and Leesil thought he saw his own torments mirrored in those amber irises.

  "Eillean?" Sgäile whispered, pointing to the elven skull.

  Leesil quickly pulled it aside.

  A woman in breeches and an old man in a robe stepped from the crowd, their expressions hard. Chap snarled and rushed out with wild howling barks, and they stumbled back in a startled retreat. The dog cut a wide circle around the green before all those gathered, rumbling with menace. elven villagers were bewildered—a majay-hì turning on them to defend an outsider.

  The village glen grew quiet but for uncertain whispers. The ring of onlookers cast confused glances from Chap to Sgäile and then back to Leesil. His skin crawled with their fixed attention.

  "You took her remains from the keep's crypt?" Sgäile asked.

  It sounded strange in Leesil's ears—a fervent statement hinted within a question. Sgäile said something loudly in Elvish, and the words carried the same tone and inflection. Reactions from those around the clearing changed little. Some became wary and startled, while others glowered in disbelief.

  "You brought her home to her people… yes?" Sgäile added.

  The words barely registered. Leesil didn't care what they wanted. His dead were no one's business but his own.

  "Answer him!" Wynn insisted. "He is trying to save your life… and ours!

  Én'nish growled something, and her voice rose to a near screech. Leesil twisted about.

  Urgent anticipation twisted her sharp features, as if she'd finally cornered some animal long hunted. Fury rose in Leesil, but he remained still.

  Tears began to run down Én'nish's eager face and drip from the wedge of her chin. Urhkar barked at her in Elvish. She snapped around at him, and twisted hope vanished from her face.

  Urhkar had Magiere pinned, but his expression remained passively stoic. Magiere was barely able to lift her head from the ground, and her dark eyes locked on Leesil.

  How long before he saw those irises blacken and her teeth elongate? He wanted it to happen, to see her tear into the elf.

  Urhkar leaned down and spoke softly to Magiere. She ceased struggling, and he glanced beyond Leesil. The elder elf nodded sharply once to someone, and then leaped backward, releasing Magiere. She scrambled about, facing him as she rose, then backed slowly to Leesil.

  "It's all right," Magiere whispered, crouching with one hand braced against the earth. "No one will take them… I won't let anyone take them from you."

  The roar of rushing blood in Leesil's ears began to ease under her voice.

  "Please," Sgäile pleaded, "tell them all… tell my people I speak the truth."

  Leesil saw pain on the anmaglâhk's face—and fear.

  "Érin'n," Sgäile whispered, " 'truth'… say it!"

  Leesil didn't understand, but Sgäile's urgency crept into his muddled mind.

  "Ay-rin-en…" he said once, and then again with force.

  Sgäile sagged in relief.

  Magiere reached for the fallen cloth, but Sgäile picked it up first. He opened it, draping it over his open hands like an offering.

  "You shame me," he said quietly, and dropped his gaze to Eillean's skull. "You should have told me. I would have… begged to carry her. Even for a little of the way."

  Sgäile hesitated at the sight of Gavril's skull, but then he held out the draped cloth. Magiere snatched it away and laid it carefully over the skulls in Leesil's arms.

  He quickly wrapped them, hiding them from all prying eyes and stood up only when Magiere coaxed him.

  Some of the elves gathered around still looked angry, but others lowered their heads in rising sorrow. Leesil didn't understand why his grandmother's return and one Elvish word
had caused such a change.

  Magiere slid her arm around his shoulders, but she looked behind him toward Én'nish.

  "You touch him again," she said coldly, "and I won't need a sword to take your head."

  Leesil heard no answer from Én'nish, but she came into sight around his right side, circling wide as she approached Sgäile. Urhkar strode into Leesil's view and cut her off.

  Without the slightest emotion on his face, the elder Anmaglâhk raised an empty hand, palm outward. He waved it between them, as if brushing some annoyance from the air.

  Anger drained from Én'nish's face. She flinched as if struck suddenly by someone she cared for. She backed away from Urhkar, turned, and fled from the clearing.

  Wynn climbed to her feet as Osha tucked away his stilettos and hurried to assist her. When he offered his hand, the sage pulled away and wouldn't look at him.

  "We should get out of sight immediately," Wynn said.

  Chap still paced before the elves, glancing every so often at Leesil.

  An elderly man in a quilted russet shirt pushed through the crowd. His unruly hair was darker than the others' and shot with steel gray. Chap turned on him with a snarl. The old man froze just inside the ring of onlookers but would not retreat.

  "Sgäilsheilleache?" he called.

  In an unguarded moment, relief flashed across Sgäile's narrow features. "Foirreach-ahâre!"

  "Chap, stop! Leave him be," Wynn called; then she whispered to Magiere, "Sgäile called that man his grandfather."

  Chap turned a hesitant circle back toward Wynn, his eyes still on the new arrival. The older man approached, eying the dog. He didn't appear angry or frightened, only a bit startled and worried.

  Sgäile spoke rapidly in Elvish, and his grandfather's answers carried a tone of polite admonishment. Leesil wondered at what was said and looked to Wynn. The sage followed their words with fixed attention but offered no translation. Sgäile gestured Leesil forward and kept his voice low.

  "Hurry. Come to my home. You will be safe there."

  Leesil bit his tongue to keep from snapping. Sgäile had made this promise before, and his assurance had proved false. Leesil wondered how much worse things could get.

  Chapter Five

  W ynn gasped softly as she stepped through a wool curtain and into an oak tree as wide as a small cottage. Moss from outside flowed inward across the chamber's floor, though she could not fathom how it remained a vibrant yellow-green without sunlight. The oak's interior had grown into a large rounded room with naturally curving doorways and walls. The walls were bark-covered like its outside, but in some places bare wood showed through. Not as if the bark had been stripped, but rather that the oak had grown this way yet still lived and thrived. Tawny-grained wood shaped arches to other curtained spaces. Steps rose upward around the left wall and through an opening in the low ceiling, perhaps leading to further rooms above.

  Ledges at the height of seating places were adorned with saffron-colored cushions covered in floral patterns of a lighter yellow. Through one archway Wynn saw a smaller chamber with stuffed mattresses laid out upon the moss carpet. Soft pillows and green wool blankets graced those resting places.

  She ran fingertips lightly across the bark wall as Osha stepped in.

  After what had happened in the village green, she no longer felt certain he could be trusted. He drew blades at the sight of the skulls, but not to protect those under guardianship.

  Magiere swept aside the doorway curtain and looked about with little interest in the surroundings. Her study of the place was more a wary search for potential threats or perhaps other ways out. She finally stepped in, holding aside the curtain.

  Leesil entered, still gripping the bundled skulls, and behind him came

  Chap, who surveyed their surroundings much the same way as Magiere had. Sgäile carried the skulls' chest under one arm. Beneath the other he held the cloak-wrapped weapons. Last came Sgäile's soft-spoken grandfather, and yet there was room for all.

  Osha stared at the bundle in Leesil's arms. He took a long breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled.

  "It is a blessing you speak our language," he said to Wynn. "When I saw those… and heard Én'nish…"

  He did not look at her. Wynn assumed he was shamed by yet another violent breach of guardianship. And he should be.

  Sgäile gently set the chest at the room's far side.

  "I should not have been so quick in my thoughts," Osha added.

  Wynn didn't answer. Sgäile laid the cloak-bundled weapons beside the chest and turned a hard gaze upon Osha.

  "The day has been long," he said. "The remaining journey will be longer. You may take leave for food and rest."

  A polite dismissal, but Sgäile's dissatisfaction was plain. Én'nish had been a growing threat, but Wynn had come to expect better from Osha.

  Osha looked down at her, as if to say something more, but he quickly headed for the doorway. He gave a brief nod of respect to Sgäile's grandfather and left.

  Magiere turned on Sgäile. "You gave us your word that we'd be safe, and it meant nothing."

  "Please sit and rest," Sgäile's grandfather interceded. "Be at ease in my home, for none will trouble you here."

  Beneath his thick elven accent, his Belaskian was perfect. Wynn stepped in, hoping to divert further conflict.

  "You are not Anmaglâhk," she said to the elder elf. "How did you learn Belaskian?"

  "He is a Shaper—specifically a healer," Sgäile explained. "And a clan elder. He has twice been on envoy, sailing to the human coastal countries. He also serves enclaves many leagues apart, including Crijheâiche, the housing place of the Anmaglâhk. I have taught him more of the language, at his request."

  Sgäile stepped back and held his palm out. "This is my grandfather, Gleannéohkân'thva."

  Wynn turned the long name in her head—Reposed within the Glen. Even she would have trouble saying it properly, and she hesitated to try. Enough offense had already been given on this journey by a slip of the tongue.

  "Gleann?" she said hesitantly.

  Dark flecks of brown within his amber irises gave them a strange allure. The thin, soft creases around his mouth made Wynn think of an old owl. Unlike Sgäile and his comrades, Gleann looked Wynn straight in the eyes, sternly.

  A faint curl grew at the corners of his mouth. He placed one hand over his heart with a nod, but as he turned to Sgäile, one feathery eyebrow rose.

  "What have you done?"

  Sgäile fidgeted like a boy caught in mischief. "I must report on our progress. Would you ask Leanâlhâm to bring food for our guests?"

  As the words left his lips, the doorway's curtain flipped wildly aside. A pretty elven girl nearly fell into the room in a rush, panting out Elvish.

  "Grandfather?… Uncle! What has happened? I heard you brought—"

  She sucked in a breath so quickly that it choked her and backed against the wall beside the door. She stared fearfully at Magiere.

  Wynn guessed the girl at about sixteen by human or elven standards, for the early years of either's development were much the same. Leanâlhâm's hair was almost dark enough for light brown rather than the varied blonds of her people. Her eyes, with their large irises…

  Wynn blinked and looked more carefully.

  Leanâlhâm's irises were not amber—they were topaz, with a touch of green.

  Two thin braids down the sides of her triangular face held back the rest of her hair. On second look, her narrow ears were ever so blunted at the tips, though not as much as Leesil's.

  Wynn's gaze slipped once to Leesil, the only half-blood she had ever seen or heard of. But she knew this girl was not a full elf.

  Sgäile took Leanâlhâm in his arms, pulling her into his chest as he whispered in her ear. Wynn would never have imagined such affection from the reserved leader of their escort.

  "It is all right, Leanâlhâm," Gleann said, keeping to Belaskian, which suggested the girl spoke it as well. "Your cousin brought une
xpected guests for dinner."

  Wynn took a cautious step toward the girl. "I am Wynn… and pleased to meet you."

  Only one of Leanâlhâm's strange eyes peered around Sgäile's shoulder. It shifted quickly from Wynn to Magiere, paused briefly upon Chap, and then held on Leesil. He returned her gaze, pivoting to face her.

  "Leesil," he said, and then nodded toward Magiere, saying her name.

  Leanâlhâm remained apprehensive, though she pulled back from Sgäile enough to study all the strange visitors. Sgäile released her and headed for the doorway.

  "I will return. Please see to their needs." He paused and dropped back into Elvish. "Make a bath for them and find spare clothing while theirs are washed. The smell grows worse each day."

  Smell? Wynn's jaw dropped. At least neither Magiere nor Leesil understood. None of them had bathed or washed their clothes in weeks. Sgäile left, and an uncomfortable silence followed.

  "Food first," Gleann said in Belaskian. "Then baths. Leanâlhâm, go to the communal oven and see what is left. Try to bring meat or fish for the majay-hì. I will find our guests some clean attire."

  Chap barked once at the mention of food.

  "What's this about baths?" Leesil asked.

  Sgäile restrained himself from running. Once out of the village and into the forest, he broke into a jog. He fought to quiet his thoughts, to regain stillness and clarity, but his mind churned against his will.

  Finding a young pine, he dropped to his knees. He waited for his breathing to ease and took an elongated oval of pale word-wood from inside his cloak. He reached for the pine's trunk, the word-wood couched in his palm, but then paused and lowered his hand.

  He needed a moment more.

  Regret was not an emotion he tolerated. There was no room for it in the life of service he had sworn to his people. But no one had ever been asked to escort humans through their land.

  Of those few who ever made it through the mountains, skirted the northern peninsula by sea, or came up the eastern coast from the south, even fewer lived to tell of it to their own kind. But Sgäile needed to know how his peo-ple would react before he brought Léshil to Crijheâiche—to Aoishenis-Ahâre, Most Aged Father.