by Barb Hendee
Wynn could do nothing but wait and watch.
Brot'an stood relaxed but erect upon the clearing's turf as he looked to Fréth.
"Whenever you are ready."
Chap knew Brot'an grasped for the only option he had left, but Most Aged Father spoke one truth. At any violence among the elves, Magiere would be seen as the cause. Even if found innocent in Brot'an's victory, it would only settle the immediate claim. In the end, it would weigh against all three of Chap's charges when it was time for the council to consider the human interlopers in their land.
He did not care what the Anmaglâhk did to each other, but he would not allow Magiere to be used anymore.
Chap bolted across the clearing, not caring about any attention he called.
"What are you doing?" Wynn shouted after him.
There was no time for explanations. He raced for the clearing's far slope and lunged up the incline straight at Gleann and his clan.
The old healer's jaw dropped halfway open. Chap let out a snarl. It was the only way, the safest place, to break through. Only Leanâlhâm stood transfixed with fright. Before Chap had to swerve to get around the girl, Gleann jerked her aside. The rest of his kinsman scrambled out of Chap's path.
He shot through to the open forest beyond.
Even his own presence as a majay-hì no longer counted for Magiere. He had felt the doubt and suspicion behind those who watched him from around the clearing. They saw a puzzle they could not unravel in a majay-hì who kept company with humans, and most believed that he was wrong—deviant and twisted by a life no majay-hì would choose.
They did not know how close to the truth they were—for all the wrong reasons.
If the Anmaglâhk and the elders wanted battle to find truth, he would give them one.
Chap cut through brush and trees, until he broke into a wide alley created by a deep brook. He leaped up a smooth boulder overhanging the rippling water. In the distance behind him, he heard the crowd in the clearing.
Their sounds drowned from Chap's ears as he ripped the forest's peace with a howl.
Sgäile felt as if his heart would rupture. He no longer knew what was right or wrong. He knew only the ways of his caste and of his people. He had followed both with such devotion and conscience. But since the humans' arrival, one had been continually pitted against the other. Now two of his own turned on each other over an outsider.
Brot'ân'duivé and Fréthfâre. Greimasg'äh and elder of caste against Most Aged Father's chosen Covârleasa. Two of the caste's most honored.
At its worst—if neither yielded—one would die.
Brot'ân'duivé had right of proxy for Magiere, and Sgäile could not help but agree with his decision. It was proper, for what he saw of the woman's sudden failing condition. He did not understand why the healing Anasgiah had done this to her, nor did he care for the manner in which it was done.
Fréthfâre's only goal appeared to be forcing Magiere to transform before the gathering. Perhaps they should see this. Perhaps Fréthfâre was not wrong either.
Sgäile's mind spun as Brot'ân'duivé stood waiting upon Fréthfâre's response.
And then Chap raced away across the clearing and through the crowd.
That instant of distraction left Sgäile up repared. Every muscle in his body clenched as Fréthfâre rushed at Brot'ân'duivé.
All Sgäile could do was wait for one to yield—or one to die.
Leesil stood speechless as Chap vanished through the crowd. Then Fréth struck out at Brot'an.
Her palm strike never landed. Brot'an spun away low with a sweep of his leg. Fréth hopped back into a crouch. Before her feet touched earth, Brot'an was already up.
Leesil only cared that Brot'an won. That hope didn't even grate upon him in this moment.
Brot'an didn't close on Fréth but stood his ground, waiting as she circled. When she charged again, even Leesil was startled. It all happened before he could blink.
Fréth's lunging foot slid forward along the ground. Brot'an took a wide step left, and upon the twist of his torso, drove his right fist for her face.
She hit the ground in a hurdlers straddle, and Brot'an's strike passed over her head. She struck out for Brot'an's bent knee with her momentum. He shifted quickly into his other leg, but the change put him into Fréth's path. She pushed off with her rear cocked leg and shot upward for his abdomen with straightened fingers.
Brot'an twisted away, dropping to his back, as Fréth rose into her forward leg. She speared her hand downward at his exposed throat.
Leesil felt Magiere's hand close tight on his arm.
Sgäile took two quick steps forward before stopping.
Brot'an pulled his head aside, and Fréth's ridged fingers embedded in the clearing's earth.
"She's trying to kill him," Magiere hissed.
Leesil already knew this. Fréth would know she couldn't win unless she threw everything she had at Brot'an. Or maybe there was more to this than just Magiere's life—maybe a way to get around their custom of not spilling the blood of their own.
Most Aged Father watched without the slightest flinch at the way Fréth went after Brot'an. However it ended, Leesil feared that Magiere's fate would still be left dangling.
Brot'an swung his leg to the side, and the force rolled him over onto his face. As Fréth pulled soiled fingers from the earth, Brot'an's second leg shot out into her chest.
It was almost the same move Leesil used himself when trying to catch an undead from below while on the ground. Sgäile had once called it by some strange name that meant "Cat in the Grass."
Fréth wasn't fast enough to get out of the way.
Leesil heard the impact, and Fréth's body arched.
Her feet left the ground as she shot backward, headfirst. Her shoulders hit the earth a dozen steps away. Impact and momentum whipped her legs over her head. Leesil thought for certain her neck would snap under the fast folding curl.
She flattened on the ground, facedown, and then pushed herself up and got to her feet. She didn't waver, but struggled quietly to regain her breath.
For all Brot'an's size and age, he was nearly as fast as Fréth. And any slim advantage she might have in that wouldn't be enough to counter his experience.
"Yield," Brot'an demanded, circling around her.
A thin bloodied line marked the side of Brot'an's neck. Fréth had grazed him with her fingernails.
"Why is he holding back?" Wynn whispered.
Leesil swallowed any response, as Fréth went at Brot'an again.
Brot'an stamped hard against the earth with his right foot. An instant later he was turning fast in midair. His other leg whipped toward her at a downward angle.
His knee struck her forward arm, but his foot smashed her hip.
Fréth toppled under the impact. Her lighter body didn't have the mass to endure it. She slammed down sideways into the ground and somehow managed to kick out. She caught Brot'an's other foot just before it settled to the earth.
Brot'an spun sideways in the air. As he fell, he flattened one hand against the ground, but he crumpled and his right shoulder struck. He rolled away into a crouch, shaking his head. Fréth tottered as she got up, and then she stumbled to a halt as a howl echoed over the clearing.
Leesil looked about for the sound. The gathering broke into startled cries. Elves on the forest side of the clearing scattered downslope.
Chap lunged out through the crowd, tearing up sod as he charged straight at Brot'an and Fréth.
Chapter Twenty
M agiere didn't know what to think when Chap charged into the council clearing, but shock followed an instant later. He wasn't alone. An entire pack of majay-hì spilled through the crowd in his wake, including the white dog she'd seen with Chap more than once.
Chap bolted straight at Brot'an and Fréth. He cut between them with a vicious snarl and bared teeth. Without pause, he ran to Magiere. Even Wynn backed up as the dog dug in his front paws and lurched to a stop.
Majay-hì of all shades, all with crystalline eyes, ran one by one through the clearing. The white female came directly to Chap. The dark one with grayed muzzle who'd charged Magiere in Nein'a's clearing circled in on Brot'an, cutting between him and Fréth.
Fréth backed up several steps, but Brot'an looked about in open confusion. Sgäile tried to step in then froze before the maniacal snapping of a tall steel-gray dog.
Wynn grabbed Magiere's hand, pulling her forward toward Chap. "Come on! You have to go with him—now!"
"What are you doing?" Leesil asked.
"Chap says she must come," Wynn answered.
Magiere stepped out in a daze. In three breaths, all but two majay-hì closed on her. The remaining pair paced like guardians before Brot'an, Fréth, and Sgäile. Leesil ducked around in front of Magiere to face any dog that came too close. Only the dark one with the gray muzzle growled as he approached.
More cries and shouts erupted in the crowd behind Magiere, and she looked back with Leesil and Wynn.
Another pack wormed through the gathering above. The only elf who stood her ground, watching without surprise, was the elder female in maroon holding a scroll. This second pack spread around the clearing's side slopes, pacing before the wide-eyed gathering of elves.
A third pack burst out, upslope behind Most Aged Father. These gave the old elf a wide berth as they circled around the clearing's side. As the packs met, they spread, bordering the clearing floor on all sides.
Those with Chap stayed close around Magiere, and the white female nosed her way nearer. Leesil set himself in her path, but Wynn pushed him aside as she knelt by the female.
"Stop it," she said. "Her name is Lily, and she will protect us."
Chap barked once.
Everyone, including Brot'an, Sgäile, and Fréth, looked about in shock. At least three dozen dogs ranged within the clearing, long legs trotting, long fur bouncing up and down. Four of the dogs gathered around Magiere to form some sort of vanguard. She watched them in wonder. What did it mean?
Gleann called out in Belaskian from where he stood above the dogs pacing the clearing's slope. "I think they try to tell us something." His lined face held a hint of amusement. Then he spoke in Elvish to the others around him.
"This settles nothing!" Most Aged Father shouted. "Disperse the dogs and end this interference."
"He's right," Magiere said at Wynn's translation. "We're not getting out of here this way… not without bloodshed."
"Stay where you are," Wynn ordered. "Chap, make that old man be quiet!"
Chap turned toward the patriarch but held his ground in front of Magiere.
Wynn flinched sharply, glanced at Chap, and then turned wide eyes upon Leesil.
"What?" Magiere asked. "What did Chap say?"
A handful of Anmaglâhk came out of the crowd in answer to Most Aged Father's demand. But any attempt to descend into the clearing was cut off by snarling dogs charging. One anmaglâhk drew a blade.
Magiere grabbed Wynn's tunic shoulder, shouting at Chap as much as the sage. "Stop this, now! It's not going to work."
"What else have we got?" Leesil argued. "I'm not letting them take you."
"Leesil, go with Chap," Wynn said suddenly. "Now… and when he barks once at you, only you, give Most Aged Father his message from the ancestors."
Magiere had no idea what this meant. Confusion and frustration made her shudder harder. She'd never turned from a fight. But if Leesil, or even Chap or Wynn, came under threat, she wouldn't be able to control herself in this state.
Leesil glared at Chap. "You've been in my head again!"
"Shut your mouth and do it!" Wynn snapped at him.
Magiere grabbed Leesil by the shirtfront. "This is Chap's game now. Follow his lead."
Chap stalked forward across the clearing, and Leesil followed, looking worried.
A shrill whistle like a rushing song carried above the noise of the gathering.
Chap and Leesil were only partway across the field, and even the majay-hì turned confused circles at the sound. A clan elder in a dark brown cloak raised a hand and pointed high beyond Magiere.
Leesil turned, and Chap did as well. Brot'an lost his stoic self-control for an instant as he stared beyond Magiere. She turned around.
From the upper reaches of one bridge-branched oak, something launched from the thick leaves into the air. It spread wings longer than any bird Magiere had ever seen, and spiraled downward in wild arcs. The closer it came, the more Magiere doubted its shape. The majay-hì scattered away as it landed beyond Leesil and Chap. Magiere sucked in a breath and held it.
Not a bird, for—she—had arms and legs. She looked only at Magiere, as if she saw someone familiar.
Her wings were immense, and their combined span was at least three times her height. They folded behind a narrow and slight-boned torso of subtle curves like that of an adolescent girl. She was no taller than an Äruin'nas, and perhaps less. From pinion feathers to the downy covering on her body and face, she was a mottled off-white. Instead of hair, larger feathers combed back like a headdress and were matched by the same on the backs of her forearms and lower legs.
Two huge oval eyes dominated her face, pushed slightly to the sides by a long narrow nose that ended above a small, thin-lipped mouth. Her eyes were like polished stones, dark at first but turning as red as a dove's where they caught sunlight. She cocked her head like a crow, studying Magiere.
This frail creature stepped toward Magiere, rocking slightly upon the earth as if walking wasn't quite natural for her.
"Uirishg," Wynn said, the word exploding on her exhale.
Magiere couldn't take her eyes from this winged female. The majay-hì pulled farther aside to give her passage. A dry female voice from somewhere behind said, "Séyilf!" The word rattled in Magiere's empty mind until she heard herself try to numbly repeat it. But the closest she got out was "silf."
"The Wind-Blown," Wynn translated.
The silf drew closer and reached up with a hand of narrow fingers. She parted her lips as if to speak, and between them, in place of teeth, were ridges like the edge of a bird's beak inside her mouth. The sound that came out of her throat was somewhere between the cry of a hunting hawk and a sparrow's song.
Gleann came down and stopped beside Wynn. Most of the majay-hì descended to the clearing floor. Even Chap returned with Leesil close behind. Fréth headed for Most Aged Father, who now watched in silent suspicion. Brot'an and Sgäile approached behind Leesil.
The silf looked about, growing agitated or nervous, and flexed her wings.
Gleann waved everyone off before they came too close. From behind him, one of the Aruin'nas stepped out.
"This is Tuma'ac," Gleann said in accented Belaskian. "He may be able to translate."
Tuma'ac looked up at Magiere with a vicious twitch of his eye that made the strange markings on his sun-wrinkled face seem to dance. He nodded once to Gleann but looked to Sgäile.
Sgäile regained himself, perhaps remembering his place as adjudicator. "Yes, proceed."
Tuma'ac approached the silf, and indeed she was shorter than he. He motioned with his hands toward himself and spoke to her in his strange tongue. The odd cry erupted from the silf again, sounding much the same as before to Magiere. Tuma'ac blinked twice as he looked sidelong at Magiere, but his sudden shock faded in disgust. He barked something at Gleann.
Gleann's high eyebrows rose even higher. "He says the séyilf called you 'kin'… or blood of her kind."
Magiere looked to Leesil, who only shook his head, and then to Wynn.
The sage was horrified. She gave Magiere a quick shake of her head. Not in confusion but more that she couldn't speak her mind here and now.
It was enough to bring Magiere to her senses, enough to call up memories of a hidden room beneath the keep of her undead father.
One of the decayed bodies there had rotted feathers among its bones. Wynn called them Uirishg, the five mythical races, of which the elves and dwarves
were the only known two. Five beings had been slaughtered in that hidden blood rite to make Magiere's birth possible.
Magiere turned cold inside, looking back into the silf s dark eyes.
It cried again, and the chain translation passed once more to Gleann.
"She says you are not to be harmed… her people will not tolerate any violence against one of their own."
"That cannot be true!" Most Aged Father shouted. '"You translate incorrectly. And even so, how could she know?"
Again the chain of words passed, but this time Gleann stumbled and spoke one elvish word to Wynn. The sage seemed to have difficulty.
"Something like…" she began and shook her head. "She is… a spiritual leader of some kind. 'Spirit-talker' is the closest I can think of."
Gleann turned toward Most Aged Father. "If you wish to call Tuma'ac or the séyilf a liar, then do so for yourself and not through me. Do we now reject the word of those we promised to protect and hide in our mountains?"
Wynn shifted close to Magiere with a whisper. "The feather and berries in the mountain passage. It was one of them . . one of the séyilf."
The silf turned away. Her flurried thrash of wings sent majay-hì scattering, as she half leaped and flew to the piles of stones that Sgäile had left at the clearing's edge. She grabbed a black one and tossed it across the clearing.
It tumbled to a halt before Most Aged Father, and he shook visibly as his expression turned livid.
The silf screeched again, and Tuma'ac grunted in satisfaction before speaking to Gleann.
"She calls us to vote," Gleann said, pointing to the stone, "and gives that of her people… against the claim of Most Aged Father."
"Do the advocates have anything further to present?" Sgäile asked quietly.
Brot'an shook his head once. But Most Aged Father clutched at Fréth, whispering harshly. Fréth kept shaking her head in denial.