Firstborn

by Paul B. Thompson

  Mackeli, too, was changing, though his metamorphosis was more easily understood. He had reached the time in a young elf’s life when the physical limitations of childhood give way to an adult physique. Compared to the great life span of an elf, these changes take place rather quickly. Even without an abundance of food, he grew taller, stronger, and restless – and often rude, as well. The boy’s impatience was so high that Kith-Kanan forbade him to accompany them hunting; Mackeli’s fidgeting scared off the already scarce game.

  While his wife and friend changed in outward, tangible ways, Kith-Kanan grew, too, but inside. His values had changed since coming to the forest, certainly, and now his entire attitude toward life was undergoing fundamental change. All his life he had played at being prince. Since his brother Sithas was the heir, Kith-Kanan had no real responsibilities, no true duties. He took up warrior training and hunting as hobbies. He taught Arcuballis tricks and practiced aerial maneuvers. These activities had filled his days.

  But it was different now. He could glide through the forest, silent as a wraith. He didn’t have to rely on Mackeli’s gathering skills or Anaya’s hunting any longer. In fact, more and more, they relied on him. This was a good life, the prince decided, and he could now bless the day his father had taken Hermathya from him. Though he had cared for her, Hermathya was much better suited to his twin – both of them so correct, proper, and dutiful. And with his forgiveness of his father came a sense of loss. He found himself missing his family. Still, he knew that his life was in the forest, not the city.

  Another, more natural, change had come to Anaya. She was pregnant. She and her husband had been staring dreamily into the fire one night when she had told him. At first Kith-Kanan was stunned. His astonishment gave way to a great, heartfilling joy. He embraced her so hard that she squealed in protest. The thought that a new life, one he had helped create, was growing inside of her made Anaya that much more precious to the prince. It made their life together that much richer. He showered her with kisses and declarations of his love until Mackeli grumbled for them both to shut up, since he was trying to sleep.

  The day came, not too long after, when the first icicles began to melt off the oak’s bare branches.

  The sun came out and stayed for a week, and all the ice melted and ran off the tree. The snow retreated to the deep shadows around the rim of the clearing.

  They emerged from the tree, blinking at the bright sunshine. It was as if this was the first sunny day they’d ever experienced. Anaya moved stiffly, rubbing her arms and thighs. Her hands and feet were fully colored green by this time.

  Kith-Kanan stood in the center of the clearing, eyes shut, face turned to the sky. Mackeli, who was nearly as tall as Kith-Kanan now, bounded around like a deer, though certainly not as gracefully.

  “We’ve never had such a winter,” Anaya stated, gazing at the snow still hiding at the base of the trees.

  “If the weather holds, the hunting will be good,” Kith-Kanan noted confidently. “All the hibernating animals will be coming out.”

  “Free! Ha, ha, free!” Mackeli rejoiced. He grabbed Anaya’s hands and tried to dance her around in a circle. She resisted and pulled her hands away with a grimace.

  “Are you all right?” asked Kith-Kanan worriedly.

  “I am stiff and sore,” she complained. She stopped rubbing her arm and stood up straight. “I’ll work the cold out of my bones, don’t worry.”

  The novelty, but not the pleasure, of the first spring day wore off, and the trio returned to the tree to eat. In honor of the fine day, Kith-Kanan cut down their last haunch of venison. Kith-Kanan had been teaching Arcuballis to hunt for game and bring back what it caught. The griffon could cover a much wider range than they, and it grew more adept with each hunt. The last time the creature had brought back the very deer Kith-Kanan was carving.

  Now, Kith-Kanan took Arcuballis from its hide tent and, with whistles and encouraging words, sent the beast off on another expedition. When the griffon was lost from sight, the elf prince built a fire outside, not an easy task with all the damp wood. He sliced off a sizeable roast from the hard, smoked haunch. While it cooked, Mackeli came out with his usual fare; arrow root, walnuts, dried blueberries, and wild rice. He looked at the brown assortment in his basket, then at the deer roast, sizzling and dripping fat into the fire. He squatted by Kith-Kanan, who was turning the meat on a rough spit.

  “Could I have some?” asked Mackeli tentatively. Kith-Kanan gave him an astonished look. “It smells awfully good. Just a small piece?” the boy pleaded.

  Kith-Kanan sliced off a thin strip of cooked meat, speared it with his dagger, and put it in Mackeli’s basket. The elf boy eagerly picked it up with his fingers – and promptly dropped it again. It was quite hot. Kith-Kanan gave him a sharpened twig, and Mackeli snagged the piece of meat and raised it to his mouth.

  A look of utter concentration came over his face as he chewed. Kith-Kanan inquired, “Do you like it?”

  “Well, it’s different.” The slice was gone. “Could I have some more?” The elf prince laughed and cut a larger piece.

  Anaya came out of the tree, dragging their furs and bedding into the sun. The red and yellow lines she had painted on her face enhanced the already startling green of her eyes. The elf woman glanced over at the two males, crouched by the fire, and saw Mackeli nibbling a slice of venison. She ran over and slapped the meat from his hand.

  “It is forbidden for you to eat meat!” she said heatedly.

  “Oh? And who forbids me? You?” demanded Mackeli defiantly.

  “Yes!”

  Kith-Kanan rose to pull them apart, but as one Mackeli and Anaya shoved him back. He sprawled on the wet turf, astonished.

  “You did not kill the animal, Keli, so you have no right to eat it!” Anaya said fiercely.

  “You didn’t kill it either! Kith did!” he countered.

  “That’s different. Kith is a hunter, you’re only a boy. Stick to your nuts and berries.” The “boy” Anaya snarled at was now a head taller than she.

  “Are those eyes of yours blind?” Mackeli argued. “Nothing is as it was. The spirits of the forest have turned their backs on you. You’ve lost your stealth, your keen senses, and your agility. You’ve turned green! I’ve gotten bigger and stronger. I can shoot a bow. You —” Mackeli was sputtering in his rage “— you don’t belong in the forest any longer!”

  Within the sharply painted lines, Anaya’s eyes grew large. She made a fist and struck Mackeli smartly on the face. He fell on his back. Kith-Kanan realized things had gone too far.

  “Stop it, both of you!” he barked. Anaya had advanced over Mackeli, ready to hit him again, but Kith-Kanan pushed her back. She stiffened, and for a moment he thought she would take a swing at him. After a moment, the anger left her and she stood aside.

  The prince helped Mackeli to his feet. A smear, of blood showed under the boy’s nose.

  “I know we’ve been cooped up together too long, but there’s no reason for fighting,” Kith-Kanan said severely. “Mackeli is reaching his adulthood, Ny, you can’t hold him back.” He turned to the boy, who was dabbing at his bleeding nose with his sleeve. “And you have no right saying things like that to her. Not even the Forestmaster herself has said Anaya doesn’t belong in the wood any more. So guard your tongue, Keli. If you wish to be a warrior, you must learn self-control.”

  Suddenly they heard a pair of hands clapping behind them and a voice exclaiming, “Well said.”

  Kith-Kanan, Anaya, and Mackeli turned abruptly. A score of men holding swords or crossbows flanked the hollow tree. Standing by the door, dressed in elegant but impractical crimson, was the half-human Voltorno – as strong and healthy as ever, from the look of it.

  “You!” hissed Anaya.

  “Stand very still,” cooed Voltorno. “I would hate to perforate you after such a touching performance. It really was worthy of the finest playhouse in Daltigoth.” He nodded, and the humans fanned out carefully, surrounding the
trio.

  “So you survived your wound,” Kith-Kanan said tersely. “What a pity.”

  “Yes,” he said with calm assurance. “We had a first-rate healer on the ship. We returned to Ergoth, where I made known your interference in our operation. I was commissioned to return and deal with you.”

  Voltorno flipped back his hip-length cape, exposing a finely wrought sword hilt. He walked to Anaya, looking her up and down. “Bit of a savage, isn’t she?” he said with a sneer to Kith-Kanan and turned to Mackeli. “Could this be our wild boy? Grown a bit, haven’t you?” Mackeli kept his hands at his sides, but he was breathing hard. Voltorno shoved him lightly with one gloved hand. “You’re the one who shot me,” he said, still smiling pleasantly. “I owe you something for that.” He pushed Mackeli again. Kith-Kanan gathered himself to spring on Voltorno. As if he were reading the prince’s mind, Voltorno said to his men, “If either of them moves, kill them both.”

  The half-human grasped the gilded hilt of his sword and drew the slim blade from its scabbard. He held it by the blade; the pommel bobbed just inches from Mackelis chest. The boy stared at the sword hilt as he backed away. Mackeli’s heels crunched in some of the late snow until his back bumped a tree at the edge of the clearing.

  “Where will you go now?” asked Voltorno, his gray eyes gleaming.

  Kith-Kanan freed his dagger from his belt when the bowmen turned their attention to the halfhuman. The elf prince realized that only one of them was behind him, about eight feet away. He nudged Anaya lightly with his elbow. She didn’t look at him, but nudged him back.

  Kith-Kanan turned and hurled the dagger at the bowman. The good elven iron punched through the man’s leather jerkin. Without a word, he fell back, dead. Kith-Kanan broke left, Anaya right. The humans started yelling and opened fire. Those on the left shot at Anaya. Those on the right shot at Kith-Kanan. The only thing they hit was each other.

  About half of the group went down, shot by their own comrades. Kith-Kanan dived for the muddy ground and rolled to the man he’d killed with his dagger. The human’s crossbow had discharged on impact with the ground. Kith-Kanan pulled a quarrel from the dead man’s quiver and struggled to cock the bow.

  Anaya also threw herself on the ground, drawing her flint knife as she fell. She was a good ten yards from Mackeli and the archers, who were reloading their weapons. Mackeli reacted to the confusion by trying to snatch Voltorno’s sword, but the half-human was too quick for him. In no time Voltorno had reversed his grip and thrust his weapon at Mackeli. The boy ducked, and Voltorno’s blade stuck in a tree.

  “Get them! Kill them!” Voltorno shouted.

  Mackeli ran in and out of the trees along the clearing’s edge. Quarrels flicked by him.

  Across the clearing, Anaya crawled away in the wet turf, using her toes and elbows. As the archers concentrated their fire on Mackeli, she rose and threw herself at the back of the nearest man. Her moves were not as graceful as they once were, but her flint knife was as deadly as ever. One of the men, wounded by a quarrel, managed to sit up and aim his crossbow at Anaya’s back. Luckily, Kith-Kanan picked him off before he could shoot.

  Mackeli had plunged into the woods. Several of the surviving humans ran after him, but Voltorno called them back.

  Anaya also made it to cover in the woods. She ran only a dozen yards or so before dropping to the ground. In seconds, she was buried in the leaves. Two humans tramped right past her.

  Kith-Kanan tried to cock the bow a second time. From a sitting position though, it wasn’t easy; the bow was too stiff. Before he could get the string over the lock nut, Voltorno arrived and presented him with thirty inches of Ergothian iron.

  “Put it down,” Voltorno ordered. When Kith-Kanan hesitated, the half-human raked his sword tip over the prince’s jaw. Kith-Kanan felt the blood flow as he dropped the crossbow.

  “Your friends have reverted to type,” said Voltorno with contempt. “They’ve run off and left you.”

  “Good,” Kith-Kanan replied. “At least they will be safe.”

  “Perhaps. You, my friend, are anything but safe.”

  The eight surviving humans crowded around. Voltorno gave them a nod, and they dragged Kith-Kanan to his feet, punching and kicking him. They brought him to the far side of the clearing where they’d first come in and where they’d dropped their baggage. Voltorno produced a set of arm and leg shackles, then chained Kith-Kanan hand and foot.

  *

  Anaya burrowed away from the clearing, worming through the leaves like a snake. In times past, she could have done so without disturbing a single leaf on the surface. Now, to her ears, she sounded like a herd of humans. Fortunately Voltorno and his men were busy on the other side of the clearing.

  When she was quite far away, she parted the leaves with her hands and crawled out. The ground was cold and wet, and Anaya shivered.

  She wanted to return at once and free Kith-Kanan, but she knew she’d never trick the humans again. Not alone. She would have to wait until it was dark.

  A twig snapped behind her, on her right. She kicked the leaves off her legs and faced the sound. Hugging a tree five yards away was Mackeli.

  “You’re noisy,” she criticized.

  “You’re deaf. I stepped on four other twigs before that last one,” he said coolly.

  They met each other halfway. The hostility of the morning was gone, and they embraced.

  “I’ve never seen you run like that,” she avowed.

  “I surprised myself,” admitted Mackeli. “Being more grown up does appear to have advantages.”

  He looked down at his sister. “I’m sorry for what I said,” he added earnestly

  “You only said what I’ve thought a thousand times,” she confessed. “Now we have to think of Kith. We can go in after dark and take him —”

  Mackeli took her by the shoulders and dropped to the ground, pulling her down beside him. “Shh! Not so loud, Ny. We’ve got to be smart about this. A year ago, we could have crept in and freed Kith, but now we’re too slow and loud. We have to think better.”

  She scowled. “I don’t have to think to know that I will kill that Voltorno,” she insisted.

  “I know, but he’s dangerous. He used magic when he fought Kith before, and he’s very clever and very cruel.”

  “All right then, what should we do?”

  Mackeli glanced quickly around. “Here’s what I think....”

  *

  When he’d finished ransacking the tree-home, Voltorno supervised his men in setting up traps around the clearing. Where the foot path had been worn in the grass, they strewed caltrops – small, spiky stars designed to stop charging horses. Against the hide leggings Anaya and Mackeli wore, they would be deadly.

  In the grass around the tree, they set saw-toothed, spring-loaded traps, such as humans sometimes used to catch wolves. String triggers were strung, a pull on which would send a crossbow quarrel whizzing. Even by the last of the afternoon light the traps were hard to see. Kith-Kanan shuddered as he watched these diabolical preparations and prayed fervently that Anaya’s nose for metal had not deserted her completely.

  Night fell, and the cold returned strongly enough to remind the raiders that summer wasn’t around the next sunrise. Kith-Kanan shivered in the chill while he watched Voltorno’s men wrap themselves in Anaya’s warm fur.

  Voltorno brought a tin plate of stew and sat on a log in front of the prince. “I was a bit surprised to find you still here,” the half-human said. He drank beer from a tin cup. In spite of his thirst, Kith-Kanan’s nose wrinkled in disgust; it was a drink no true elf would touch. “When I returned to Daltigoth, I made inquiries about you. A Silvanesti, living in the forest like a painted savage. I heard a very strange tale in the halls of the imperial palace.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Kith-Kanan, staring at the fire built some distance in front of the hollow oak. “I don’t believe the humans would allow you into the imperial palace. Even human royalty knows better than to
let street garbage into their homes.”

  His face contorted in anger, Voltorno flipped a spoonful of hot stew into Kith-Kanan’s already much-abused face. The elf prince gasped and, despite his bound hands, managed to rub the scalding liquid onto the shoulder of his tunic.

  “Don’t interrupt,” said Voltorno nastily. “As I was saying, I heard a strange tale. It seems that a prince of the Silvanesti, the brother of the current heir to the throne, left the city under a cloud. He bared a weapon in the hallowed Tower of the Stars or some nonsense like that.” Voltorno laughed.

  “It seems the prince’s father married the son’s sweetheart to his brother,” he added.

  “Sounds like a very sad story,” Kith-Kanan said, betraying as little emotion as he could. His shoulders ached from being forced to sit hunched over. He shifted his feet a bit, making the chains clatter as he did.

  “It has the quality of an epic about it,” Voltorno agreed, stirring his stew. “And I thought to myself: what a prize that son would make. Imagine the ransom the elf prince’s family would pay!”

  Kith-Kanan shook his head. “You are gravely mistaken if you think you can pass me off as a prince,” he said. “I am Silvanesti, yes – a warrior whose nagging wife drove him into the forest for peace and quiet.”

  Voltorno laughed heartily. “Oh, yes? It’s no use, my royal friend,” he said. “I’ve seen portraits of the royal house of Silvanesti. You are this errant son.”

  A shrill shriek pierced the night air. The humans reached for their arms, and Voltorno went quickly to steady his men. “Keep your eyes open,” he cautioned them, “this could be a trick to divert us.”