Rebel Fay

by Barb Hendee

  "We don't know," Magiere finally answered. "Not long… we hope."

  Leesil could tell she was still spiteful that their weapons hadn't been returned.

  Urhkar was already out in the forest, trying to find any trail left by the sage. Sgaile said majay-hì packs preferred to range the forest's depths in their leisure, so he was leading their search inland, away from the river. They all were in agreement that Wynn was likely far beyond the settlement's bounds. A human spotted wandering the community would have caused a disturbance.

  They rounded a wide oak with a gnarled trunk, and Sgaile pulled up short. He held up his hand for everyone to stop.

  A female elf, tall and impossibly thin, stood on the oak's far side before its curtained doorway. By what little light spilled out around the curtain, Leesil saw her filmy eyes as she raised one thin brow in calm puzzlement. She was elderly, dressed in a long maroon robe beneath a matching cloak. Pure white hair hung around her sunken cheeks as she leaned heavily upon a staff of rippled wood.

  The old woman squinted at Leesil, studying him with silent interest.

  Sgäile gave her a bow and turned away to move on.

  "Who was that?" Leesil asked.

  "Tosân'leag of the Avân'nûnsheach… the Ash River clan, known for their scholarly pursuits. They make fine paper and ink, such as my grandfather gave your companion." Sgäile hesitated, and then added, "Clan elders have been arriving for days. Word of your presence has spread. Humans have never been given passage in our land before. We must find your companion before they hear she is missing."

  "And before Én'nish does," Magiere said under her breath.

  Or before Wynn stumbled alone into a pack of majay-hì. Leesil only hoped Chap and the sage ran into each other first.

  As they walked, Leesil saw more wide-bellied and gnarled oaks than in the few other parts of the settlement he'd seen. At night it wasn't easy to get a good look at Crijheâiche, but they'd been walking for a while and still hadn't reached its inland end. They passed many of the tree homes, but none of the canvas or otherwise handmade structures.

  After a while, the domiciles thinned, and the forest ahead thickened beyond a clearing. When they stepped into the break in the trees, Leesil stood on the edge of a wide and shallow depression covered in low-trimmed grass.

  The surrounding oaks weren't homes, as they had no openings, though their trunks were large enough for such. Their lowest branches were half the diameter of the trunks. They reached out level to either side and appeared grown together, forming living bridges from one tree to the next and encircling the depression. Leesil couldn't guess the purpose of this place, and Sgäile pushed on around the encompassing oaks.

  A shadow moved upon one bridge-branch nearest the open forest. Sgäile slowed, and Leesil moved up beside him.

  Sgäile stood in silence and watched the silhouette with narrowed eyes. The shadow dropped to the ground as two more stepped out into view. The trio approached.

  All three were dressed as Anmaglâhk, but the one leading was shorter and slighter than the others.

  Brot'an spoke in clear Belaskian. "Return to quarters. We have no need of your assistance."

  "With respect, Greimasg'ah," the lead figure answered. "I join this pursuit at the request of the Covârleasa."

  Her voice was thick with an Elvish accent.

  Brot'an exhaled harshly, and Sgäile's shoulders sagged just a bit.

  The trio came closer, and Leesil clearly made out the sharp features of Én'nish within her cowl. Her eyes remained on him as well.

  Magiere inched forward. "What is she doing here?"

  "No one can deny her," Sgäile admonished, with barely suppressed frustration in his voice.

  "She acts on behalf of the Covârleasa," Brot'an added. "The 'selected and trusted adviser' of Most Aged Father… Fréthfâre."

  "And you're going to let her come with us?" Magiere demanded.

  Leesil didn't understand the bizarre command structure these Anmaglâhk followed, but he was sick of it. Were they expected to hand over the search for Wynn to this vengeance-driven woman?

  Brot'an's passive gaze remained on Én'nish. "She will not interfere in a task not given to her."

  Én'nish looked up at Brot'an in hesitation. In spite of his calm tone, his words sounded like a pointed reminder of her place.

  "Yes, these visitors are most certainly Sgäilsheilleache's responsibility," Én'nish answered.

  She nodded to Brot'an with respect. Her two companions did likewise. Whatever their twisted rules, Brot'an appeared to hold sway over all present.

  "Get rid of her," Magiere demanded.

  "Remember your place… human," Brot'an replied quietly, the last word selected with care but spoken with no malice. "You are a guest here by exception. If not for your companion's imprudence, we would all be at peace this night."

  "Let it go," Leesil whispered to Magiere. "For now."

  Privately, he wondered at how Fréth, and likely Most Aged Father, had learned so quickly of Wynn's disappearance, and why Én'nish was the one sent to intercept their search.

  Brot'an stepped past Leesil and out ahead. Én'nish and her companions moved from his path. Sgäile followed more slowly, ushering Leesil and Magiere forward, keeping himself between them and Én'nish. They caught up to Brot'an, and Leesil looked over his shoulder as Én'nish and her followers fell in behind Osha. The young elf breathed a bit too deeply for so little exertion, and his eyes wandered nervously.

  Leesil heard a chirping whistle.

  They reached the far side of the tree-ringed depression, and Brot'an stood before the forest proper with his hands cupped around his mouth. He let out a birdlike series of chirps, waited a moment, and then issued another shrill call.

  A longer whistling chirp answered him from the forest.

  "Urhkarasiférin has found a trail," Sgäile said, as Brot'an took off at a run into the trees. "Stay close, and do not wander."

  Most Aged Father lingered in that place between consciousness and slumber. He had listened to Léshil and his companions in their quarters, but the effort wore him down. He withdrew his awareness as their conversation waned and Léshil went off to bathe. But he had learned things about each—their personalities, their fumbling grasps at plans, and their nature for deception. Magiere disturbed him in particular.

  She was filled with a strange agitation. She warranted more consideration and observance until he was done with Léshil. So much complication arose from humans. The world was polluted with their chaos and frailty.

  Most Aged Father was so weary he did not hear Fréthfâre's footfalls until she entered his private chamber in the great oak's heart-root. She bowed. As always, he was pleased by her presence.

  Until she rose up with dark concern plain on her face.

  "There is trouble with the humans," she said, settling upon one teal-dyed cushion of shéot'a cloth. "I do not believe Sgäilsheilleache has firm control over them."

  Her criticism of a fellow anmaglâhk was disturbing. Most Aged Father valued all the Anmaglâhk, but he took greater pride in a few, such as Fréth-fâre. Sgäilsheilleache was another, with his fierce devotion to his people and his strict sense of justice. Most Aged Father had known from the first time he set eyes on Sgâilsheillache that the boy was Anmaglâhk. Barely thirteen years old, he was only two moons past his name taking when he submitted himself for acceptance to the caste. He showed no fear at the prospect of training.

  Taking Fréthfâre as Covârleasa had been a choice of careful consideration, and Most Aged Father valued her counsel. But he still expected good reason for her words against Sgäilsheilleache.

  "One of the humans with Léshil—the small one—has gone missing," she said. "The majay-hì in their company has vanished as well. The human is believed to have gone into the forest, or so Én'nish reported. Sgäilsheilleache has gathered a hunting party to go after her, but he took Léshil and the pale woman with him. I have sent Én'nish with two others to join them."


  Most Aged Father could not speak. He tried to sit up and failed, and the effort cost him.

  "How long?" he demanded.

  "Sometime after nightfall. I am not certain."

  He was too tired for this foolishness. Of all his children, Sgäilsheilleache and Fréthfâre had done this. One unable to control the humans and the other compounding this new complication. Én'nish, who grieved the loss of her future mate, was the last who should be given any purpose involving Léshil.

  Most Aged Father had been concerned when Sgäilsheilleache chose Urhkarasiférin to help escort Léshil. Én'nish was under the elder anmaglâhk's tutelage, and by caste law, the student always accompanied the teacher. Now that Urhkarasiférin had dismissed her, Én'nish was best kept far from Léshil—until Most Aged Father was done with him.

  "Father?" asked Fréthfâre. He had been silent too long.

  "Do not speak," Most Aged Father admonished her. "The humans are devious beyond understanding. Give me a moment to seek anomalies in the thread of life."

  He had so little strength left, but it was unavoidable. He closed his eyes, worming his awareness through the forest's roots in the earth and into brush and tree and flower wherever he passed.

  Nothing came to him at first, and then he felt the majay-hì. A pack loped at a fast pace behind one of the Listeners, the great silver deer, sentinels of the forest. Outrage rose in Most Aged Father.

  The little human woman rode upon the deer's back.

  The pack traveled purposefully, on a steady course as they wove through the forest. He followed them, slipping ahead to tree or bush whenever they outdistanced the present place of his awareness. The line they ran began to seed him with fear.

  How could they know of such a destination?

  Among the pack was the one majay-hì who had entered his home with Léshil.

  Most Aged Father's eyes snapped open, and he tried to sit up.

  "North," he cried out. "Catch Sgäilsheilleache and his charges at all costs. You will turn them back! Now!"

  Fréthfâre spun up to her feet, startled by his tone.

  Clan elders had been arriving for several days. Talk and rumor suggested they questioned his wisdom in allowing humans into the land for the first time. He could not let word of this wayward human's actions reach them as well.

  And he could not allow any to reach the place they were headed.

  "Go!" he cried out, his voice scratching the air. "None of them must reach Cuirin'nên'a's glade."

  Sgäile burned with shame as he led the others through the trees. The fault was his alone.

  He would never blame another serving under him—not even the naïve and immature Osha. It had been his own choice to assign the young elf as watchguard.

  Osha had come later to service than most Anmaglâhk, and in the following five years, the young man had failed to attract the tutelage of a teacher among their caste. He remained a novice of only basic skills. Still, Osha wished to be of service, and Sgäile empathized with a desire that would not yield to any obstacle.

  He had left Osha to watch over Léshil's quarters, and that decision resulted in the worst night of his life. Én'nish had been sent by Fréthfâre before Sgäile could resolve the crisis—which meant Most Aged Father knew everything.

  It took no great feat of intelligence to guess how word had reached Most Aged Father. Én'nish must have been watching and waiting for an opportunity.

  Sgäile grew sick to his stomach as they broke into a clearing where a large boulder protruded from a hillside. Halfway beyond the boulder's ledge top, Urhkarasiférin crouched upon the slope of thinly leafed elms.

  "A pack was here," Brot'ân'duivé said, and Sgäile followed his gaze to the soft ground covered in paw prints. "And someone with small, human feet."

  "Wynn?" Léshil asked.

  Magiere stepped beyond Sgäile, pacing the ground with deep breaths.

  "No blood," she said.

  Sgäile was relieved, and then suspicious. Perhaps Chap had kept Wynn safe. But how, in the dark, had Magiere known no blood was spilled here? Léshil also watched her with wary concern. Én'nish hung back by the tree with her companions.

  "Come," Sgäile said, and headed upslope. As he approached Urhkarasiférin, the elder anmaglâhk pointed through the elms to the northeast.

  "At least seven… maybe eight majay-hì," he said. "Along with the woman… all making speed."

  "And following a clhuassas" Brot'ân'duivé added.

  "What is that?" Magiere asked.

  "One of the large silver-gray deer you have seen," Sgäile answered, and said no more. The less humans knew of such things, the better.

  Leesil knelt down by the split hoof prints, larger than any deer-sign in human lands.

  Sgäile rarely saw even subtle distress in Urhkarasiférin's passive expression. But the man tightened his lips with a slight scowl and breathed sharply out through his nose.

  "North by northeast," he said.

  Brot'ân'duivé already stared off through the trees along the path the pack had taken.

  "What's out there," Léshil asked, "and why would Chap or Wynn try to follow them?"

  "They are not following," Brot'ân'duivé corrected. "They are traveling with the pack… being taken… to Cuirin'nên'a."

  Such a blunt statement stunned Sgäile. But if Léshil came with them, he needed to know the truth of the situation. It was only right and fair to prepare him, as the shock could cause discord later.

  Léshil rose quickly from the deer tracks, his eyes on the path ahead. He took off down the trail.

  "No," Brot'ân'duivé shouted, grabbing for Léshil.

  Magiere slapped Brot'an's hand aside with a menacing glare and followed in Léshil's footsteps.

  Sgäile was at a loss. He could not allow anyone near Cuirin'nên'a, though he understood why Brot'ân'duivé had told Léshil where the pack headed.

  He hoped they could catch the human woman before she and Chap reached Cuirin'nên'a.

  It would be hard to turn Léshil aside, and harder still if he were in reach of his mother.

  At least Brot'ân'duivé was with them—and that was some comfort. Sgäile would need his wisdom and calm counsel.

  Én'nish tried to step around and head up the trail. Before Sgäile intercepted her, Brot'ân'duivé cut her off.

  "You may follow," he said, "but do not forget that guardianship belongs to Sgailsheilleache. Do not interfere."

  Urhkarasiférin, about to head onward, cast only a passing glance at the woman. But Sgäile had another concern. He reached out to stop Urhkarasiférin, touching the elder's shoulder.

  "I left Leanâlhâm alone," Sgäile said. "Please stay with her, and tell her I will return when able."

  Urhkarasiférin gave only the slightest cock of his head to betray his surprise. He was the elder of the two of them, yet only involved at Sgäile's request. The elder anmaglâhk nodded and headed back toward Crijheâiche.

  Sgäile turned to catch up with Osha close behind him. He heard Én'nish and the other two following. For the first few steps, it struck him as odd that Fréthfâre or even Most Aged Father would send another trio of the caste to follow him in tracking down one small human.

  He pushed the thought away and ran on.

  * * * *

  Chap loped beside Lily, growing tired and sensing the same in her. At times, thickened brush between the trees made passage difficult. Wynn clung to the deer's back with nothing to grasp but the animal's coat of long hair. She bent forward against its shoulders and neck, trying to hang on.

  The ink-shaded elder slowed without warning, and all of the pack pulled up around him. They dispersed among the undergrowth, and a few dropped to the ground panting, pink tongues lolling out of their mouths.

  A rest had been called, and Chap was no less grateful than the others. Lily lay down on the forest floor, but Chap trotted over to Wynn and barked once. She still clung to the deer as it shifted from hoof to hoof.

  Wynn looked so small
upon the animal's back, no larger than a child might appear upon a full-grown horse. Her hair was tangled and her oval face smeared by clumps of kicked-up earth. She had no cloak and shivered in her light elven clothing.

  Chap barked again, and Wynn lifted her head. She slid her far leg over the deer's haunches and tried to slide off its back. She ended up dropping to her rump when her feet hit the ground. Chap whined and pressed his head against her shoulder.

  She was too weary and stiff to even put a hand on his head. Instead she crawled on hands and knees behind him as he returned to where Lily lay panting.

  The pack lay in groups of two and three to share warmth. Wynn settled next to Lily, and Chap stretched out before both of them. Wynn reached out slowly and stroked Lily's back. Lily raised her ears once but did not object.

  "She is beautiful," Wynn finally said. "All your kind are beautiful."

  Chap looked into her weary face. He hoped for her sake—and his—they would not travel much farther in this manner.

  "I thought that all of them would be like you—born-Fay," Wynn added as she closed her eyes and lay back. "I did not know they would be so far removed—yet still like you."

  He belly-crawled over to press his body against her. Winters here were far milder than beyond the mountains, yet the nights could be cool.

  Chap found a strange moment of peace, considering what was at stake in this swift journey. With Wynn nestled between Lily and himself, it was good to lie on the earth of his birthplace. His eyes began to droop.

  The first long baying rang through the night.

  Several majay-hì stirred and got up as Chap opened his eyes. The sound rang out again, and he recognized it. The deer that had carried Wynn was still among the pack, yet this bellow came from farther off.

  The deer lifted its head and issued an answering call. It turned and stalked toward the pack elder as Lily climbed to her feet. She joined them as the deer bent down to touch heads with the elder. Chap was too tired to try dipping into the exchange of memory. But when Lily returned to press her head to his, she whined in agitation. The flash of memory snapped Chap fully awake.

  Gray-green-clad elves ran through the forest.