“Though a guy with a spear must be pretty hard to resist. And he can cook.”
I jerked my head up. “You mean Tyhlaur?” I cried, more loudly than I meant.
Luckily none of the three at the table seemed to have heard me. Damian just looked at me, confused, and I stared back, trying to think of something to say and failing epically. Then a little light of understanding flashed in Damian’s eyes, and he leaned toward me again.
“Yatol? Really?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” I muttered petulantly.
Damian watched Yatol for a moment, then shot me a grin. “Makes more sense than Tyhlaur, actually. Yeah, he’s more your type.”
I scowled, but wasn’t about to argue. Damian laughed and turned away to say something to Kurtis. I was just glad that Tyhlaur decided at that moment that his stew was done, and ladled it out into the smooth wood bowls. Yatol helped distribute them.
Again silence reigned over the meal. Damian kept looking like he wanted to speak, but noticing that no one else was talking, he kept his thoughts to himself. I fixed my eyes on my bowl. My stomach rumbled but my throat closed down. I could hardly swallow. I don’t know why. The stew smelled as good as I remembered it, and I couldn’t think of a time all that day I hadn’t felt hungry. Maybe the bread would be easier. But I could hardly lift it to my mouth.
The world blurred and greyed. The bread and the bowl clattered to the ground. I stared at my hands gone weak and numb.
And then everything fell into shadow, and someone was holding me up.
“Merelin, Merelin!” Damian cried.
He cradled me against his chest, one hand against my cheek holding my head close to his shoulder, just like Dad had always held me when I was upset or afraid. As my vision returned I saw Yatol standing up, paralyzed with alarm. I wondered why he was so upset. He’d seen me in worse condition before.
Enhyla said something to him, and he stirred at last to tell Damian to take me to the bedchamber. Soon I found myself nestled in the pelts with my face buried in the warm fur. Damian stayed with me, asking me repeatedly if I was all right. I hardly heard him, but Yatol’s voice from the other room was painfully distinct.
“It’s begun,” he said, bitter and tense.
“She will endure it,” Enhyla murmured. “She has the strength.”
“She shouldn’t have to! It’s too much. It was too much for him, and it is too much for her…”
They kept talking, but their voices faded from my mind. I could sense Damian still crouching beside me, but had neither the will nor the strength to move at all. I felt myself drifting toward sleep.
Chapter 14 – Flight
Light sifted down through the woven roof, almost tangible, like a brush of feathers against my face. A faint, cool breeze stirred the blue tendrils. I felt the breath on my cheek and opened my eyes, gazing up at the roof. The swaying vines stirred some memory buried deep inside of me, and my heart ached.
It was just such a morning in mid-spring. I was only five or six. The gentle tinkling of wind chimes drifted back to me…the rainbow vision of early sunlight dancing through a painted glass unicorn. I had helped Mom paint the sun catcher the night before, and then watched as Dad put the chimes together. We’d hung it up way past my bedtime, and I had lain awake for hours listening to the delicate, melancholy sound.
In the morning I found my dad sitting on the glider out on the porch, drinking his coffee and poring over a book. I traipsed out in pajamas and enormously fuzzy pink slippers, and when I climbed onto the glider he set aside his book and wrapped his arms around me against the morning cool.
“What were you reading, Daddy?”
“Oh, a book for school, darling,” he said, and I remember the rumble of his voice against his chest.
“What book?”
“Well, it tells the story of people many, many years ago. About battles they fought, and places they went, and things they did.”
“Will you read it to me, Daddy?”
He laughed, that wonderful sound I cherished more than any other, and kissed me on the head. “Perhaps when you are older.”
He had said something then, in some language I didn’t know. But suddenly, lying in Enhyla’s hut with the memory vivid in my mind, I jolted. I heard his voice, speaking those words, but now I understood them:
“It is the tale of your people, my daughter, and someday I shall teach it to you.”
My spine tingled, and my eyes blurred with tears. I let my memory drift forward, to a stormy night in late autumn. The wind chimes tossed in shrill cacophony on the gusting wind, and the rain slanted in under the porch awning. Dad had just left the house, and stood bathed in the pool of warm, golden light from the open door.
“Daddy, why are you going?”
His eyes, so dark and sad.
“It is as it must be,” he murmured, “and where I am going, you must follow.”
A gasping sob startled me out of the memory, and I sat bolt upright shaking all over. My gaze fell on Damian, slumped against the inner wall where he had fallen asleep the night before. I was glad I hadn’t woken him up. Everything was quiet in the other room, and I realized it must still be early. I picked myself up and pushed some furs toward Damian. Biting my lip, I moved him gently so that he could lie down. He didn’t wake up – he always slept like a rock. I slipped out through the gap in the trunks and crept as quietly as I could away from the hut.
“You’re up early.”
I swung around and found Yatol sitting under a nearby tree. He looked like he’d been there some time, alone, deep in thought. For some reason the sight of him dragged my heart to my throat. More than anything I wished I could understand the melancholy in his eyes.
“I’m glad to see you up,” he added. “How do you feel?”
That seemed encouraging – almost like he was asking for my company. I made my way over and sat down, not too close but as close as I dared.
“What was wrong with me? I feel better, but still kind of strange.”
He sighed. “It’s difficult, to make the voyage to this world. There’s a price to be paid for that freedom.”
“Is Pyelthan what lets me travel here to Arah Byen?”
“No. If only it were that simple. You can call open the portal because you have that gift. Because you’re a daughter of this land.”
His words sent a sudden chill through my veins. I shivered and drew up my knees, resting my chin on them.
“Yatol, why haven’t I ever seen any children or women here?”
“You haven’t seen much of anyone since you came. Most of the people have all retreated to the city beyond the Perstaun.”
“A city!”
“Alcalon. It’s a beautiful city, the crown of Arah Byen, the king’s city. I’ve only been there once myself, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It could probably hold most of our people comfortably within its walls. So when the Ungulion began this last assault, we sent as many of the people as we could to take shelter there. Maybe they can hold out in a siege, if it comes to that. We’ve been trying to hold our borders against the Ungulion, but it doesn’t make any difference. Every day they seem to get a little closer.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking. He seemed fairly talkative, and I wondered how long he would tolerate my curiosity. What I really wanted to know seemed so ridiculous, so completely unimportant, that I couldn’t imagine asking it. Here we were in the middle of some kind of world-ending war, and there was just one question burning in my mind like the whole fate of the universe depended on his answer.
“Do you have anyone there?” I blurted before I could stop myself. Then, ears burning, I added quickly, “I mean, your family? I know you have Tyhlaur here…”
He sat very still for a moment, hands clasped loosely on his knees, eyes flooded with pain.
“No. No one,” he said carefully.
I couldn’t even breathe an inward sigh of relief, he seemed so sad.
“My mo
ther lived in Alcalon for two years until her death, and she was a widow. And…my sister. She would now be almost your age, if she still lived.”
“I’m so sorry, Yatol,” I murmured, when I could force myself to speak. He nodded, but had his eyes fixed on his hands. “What happened to her?”
“She gave her life to save Tyhlaur and me,” he said, hoarse, after the silence had drawn out too long for comfort.
I bit my lower lip to stop its trembling. For a minute I got the crazy idea that I could give him a hug. But then Yatol leaned his head back against the tree, eyes closed, and suddenly forcing a hug on him seemed like the worst idea in the world.
I wandered back to Enhyla’s hut. As I drew nearer I noticed the ivy curtain swinging in the doorway. Someone had just left…or arrived. I had almost reached the hut when a cold rush of dread washed over me, like a black wind sweeping through the forest. All my blood plunged to my feet, and I sprinted the rest of the way.
When I hit the threshold I halted, so suddenly that I had to grab one of the tree-posts for support. Just in front of me a man stood breathless, gripping a small shiv in one bloodied fist and a half-spear in the other. His feet were bare, as if he hadn’t had time to put on shoes. Blood oozed from the sole of his left foot, pooling around his heel. He didn’t seem to notice it. He bowed over, trying to catch his breath, while Enhyla stood anxiously before him. Tyhlaur poured him a drink from an earthenware pitcher, and the man took it with a nod of thanks.
“Khymranna,” Enhyla said.
“They overwhelmed us, Lord! They have pushed even into the Branhau, up toward Urith’s camp. His men retreat even as we speak. They cannot hold them at all! And my lord Talotyl is slain.” The man leaned over again, shaking his head. I could barely hear him say, “They are headed this way, Lord.”
I didn’t wait to hear anything else. I spun around and raced back to Yatol. He saw my face and got slowly to his feet.
“Merelin, what is it?”
“Khymranna,” I gasped. “The Ungulion have breached the Branhau. His lord was killed, and Urith’s camp is threatened. He said they’re coming this way.” I searched for some shred of consolation in his face, but found none. “We have to go now.”
Yatol nodded, and we flew back to Enhyla’s hut. We found Enhyla throwing provisions in leather sacks, Tyhlaur arming himself. As we came in, he tossed a long spear and bow to Yatol. Damian and Kurtis stood rooted by the far wall, alarmed by the sudden frenzy of activity. I ran over to them.
“The Ungulion are coming! We have to go, now!”
And I left them to grab my little pouch. As I came out from the back room, Yatol met me holding his thin, curved blade.
“Here, Merelin. I want you to take this. I pray you never have to use it, but if you do, it will give you some defense.”
I swallowed and took it, holding the smooth white hilt and running my fingers over the milky blade, shining like mother-of-pearl. Beautiful and sinister. I wanted to thank him but couldn’t find my voice. It didn’t matter. He had already left me. He went to Khymranna, regarding him silently for a moment.
“They overwhelmed you?” he murmured at last.
At first I thought he meant Urith’s camp, but then realized he addressed the word to Khymranna alone. Khymranna didn’t so much as glance up, but nodded his dark head slightly.
“Come with us! We can help you.”
Khymranna straightened, gazing at our little group gathered by the doorway. I noticed that his eyes had that same indescribable light that shone in Yatol’s, the light I had never seen in the eyes of any other person. He shook his head fiercely.
“I am spent, Yatol. Go. It is my hour.” He bowed his head, and his muscles tightened. “I will stay for the defense. It is my gift to you. Go while you have time.”
I couldn’t understand the sudden grief that flashed over Yatol’s face.
“Khymranna…”
Khymranna glanced up at him and nodded, a slow, meaningful nod. Yatol winced, but they clasped each other’s shoulders, and as Yatol withdrew he stooped in a bow. My heart ached seeing that strange farewell. But I could only cast one puzzled glance back at Khymranna before I followed the others out into the forest.
We fled back toward the Perstaun, while behind us a chorus of shrieks and wails echoed from every part of the forest. I would have stopped and turned to see, but Yatol came beside me and took my arm.
In my ear I heard his voice, thin and strained: “Don’t look back.”
We ran on. Suddenly, I don’t know why, I drew up and glanced to the side, just in time to see Yatol and Tyhlaur fading into the undergrowth. They hardly made a sound, and then they were gone. I lurched to a stop. I wanted to call after them, or even to run after them, but Enhyla clasped my shoulders and propelled me forward.
“Do not fear for them, child! It is their task. Come! We must run a while longer yet.”
I cast one last unhappy glance back and quickened my pace. It seemed we ran forever. My lungs burned and my hands started shaking. Just as my vision began to cloud over, Enhyla slowed to a walk. I stumbled after him, taking gulps of air that felt like emptiness in my lungs. We walked a little way, then Enhyla waved us toward a clump of trees.
“We will rest here and wait for them,” he said.
We all collapsed on the ground, gasping and coughing. I don’t think we’d run very far or fast. But the fear and uncertainty that hounded us made it seem like we’d run a marathon in five minutes. It took a lot longer for my nerves to calm than the racing of my heart. Damian moved to sit beside me. His blonde hair hung damp with sweat, but his face seemed rather paler than normal. He wasn’t really winded, but he took deep, deliberate breaths through clenched teeth. For a few moments he just sat there next to me, staring at the forest as though he didn’t really see it. Finally he cocked his head to look at me, and put his arm around my shoulders.
“You okay, Mer?”
I nodded. I realized I was shaking. “I’ll be okay, in a minute.”
Kurtis moved the mat of silky brown hair off his forehead, blowing on his face as he tried to regain his composure. When he had collected himself enough to speak, he asked, “Where did Yatol and Tyhlaur go?”
“I don’t know.”
I scanned the forest around us. Dead calm, as though there wasn’t a single living being in it. Even the light seemed muted, almost pitch black back the way we had come.
“Where did they go, Enhyla?”
“They went to gather information.”
I swallowed hard. “They’re spying on the Ungulion? Is it dangerous? Will they be all right?”
“Of course it is dangerous,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “But they have done it for many years. Do not fear for them.”
“Is it safe for us, waiting here for them?”
“They will stay in front of the force, so even if they keep pace with the Ungulion, they will reach us sooner than the enemy. The Ungulion are marching now. They will likely send out dispatches, to gather all the living so they can be driven toward Alcalon. Those divisions will go with speed. But the main force has taken the slow, steady pace of a deploying march.”
“And the Ungulion? Yatol and Tyhlaur have weapons, and Yatol gave me a blade, but the Ungulion seem dead. At least, I can’t imagine that they’re actually alive. These weapons wouldn’t hurt them, would they?”
“We don’t know what their nature is, exactly. Some life burns in them, but neither are they living. Certainly not. What weapons we have can delay them, but they do not actually wound them.” He gazed at me keenly. “That is one of the dangers of being a runner. Not only do you go out and gather information, but when there is an attack, you remain and stave off the enemy until the others have had time to withdraw.”
I sighed unhappily. “But I wish he was here.”
Chapter 15 – Rescue
Moments later Yatol and Tyhlaur returned, drenched in sweat and empty-handed. Enhyla handed them skins of water, and they stood a while in sile
nce slaking their thirst. They seemed stern, somehow, stern and strong and almost absent. None of us dared approach them.
Tyhlaur came eventually to sit with us, but Yatol kept gazing back the way we had come, toward Enhyla’s hut. If I hadn’t known him, I would have been afraid of him at that moment. I’d never seen him like that, fierce, with some terrifying light gleaming in his eyes. It was as though the strange fire in his eyes had completely swallowed the dark depths of his irises. I could see his throat tighten, his hands clench at his sides. After a moment he turned away, away from the darkening forest and away from me. He put his hand to his forehead, then dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
“Enhyla? Who was Khymranna? Yatol seems just devastated. Were they close friends?”
Enhyla sighed. “Friends, in a way. But they were bonded, because they shared a common duty.”
“But I didn’t think Yatol was a scout. Khymranna was a runner, wasn’t he?”
“Yatol is a scout when needed – as you just saw. But no, he is not a true runner like Tyhlaur and Khymranna.”
I stared at Yatol, suddenly uneasy. “Then what duty did they share?”
I turned back to Enhyla when he didn’t answer. Enhyla was watching Yatol too, and presently he said, “He is stronger than you know.”
That terrified me. I had no idea what he meant, but it sounded so ominous. More than the shrieks and darkness we’d left behind, those words made everything feel like a nightmare. I don’t know why it struck me that way. It was all a nightmare.
Tyhlaur went to take up a sentry post near the trees, and a moment later Damian left me too. He got to his feet and went to Yatol, crouching down beside him and gazing out over the forest.
“What did you learn?”
Yatol shot him a quick glance, the sorrow vanishing from his face – or maybe he just hid it immediately. He gestured back the way we had come.
“They march this way. We saw them send out a small group. They were to comb the area before them, but…we hindered them.”
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