Fields of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  “We’ve worked together before. Successfully.” Ra-khir searched the mob for Chan’rék’ril and El-brinith, the elves who had assisted gathering pieces of the shattered Pica Stone. “We can do it again.” The elves seemed to be listening, so he pointed out the significant factor. “Alone, the humans can meet these giants sword to sword, and they will defeat us with their magic. Then, they only need to draw their weapons to cut down the elves. If we unite, it’s sword against sword, magic against magic.”

  *And we would risk all of our lives. We would lose many elves.*

  *No!* Tem’aree’ay rejoined the conversation. *Chymmerlee, Ivana, and I were never at any risk. We didn’t hurl chaos back and forth. Ivana and I stayed far beyond the battle lines, then bonded to disable the giant’s magic so the warriors could fight them, weapon to weapon. The humans kept Chymmerlee safe.*

  *This Chymmerlee is human. The only one with magic. Of course, they protected her.*

  Ra-khir tried not to take offense. “And we would protect you with at least equal vigor. You have the word of a Knight of Erythane.”

  *The word of a human.*

  Ra-khir refused to become riled. “A human whose vows are as solid as any magic. I would sooner kill myself than violate a promise.”

  More elves appeared at the edge of the forest. *Elves may die.*

  “Humans will die,” Valr Magnus said. “Are our lives worth nothing?”

  *You can make more. At will.*

  “Not if we’re all dead.” Magnus sighed. “We understand the elfin recycling of souls. You do not show the same comprehension of humanity, so I will explain it.” Magnus glanced at Ra-khir, who nodded for him to continue. He had no idea which argument might sway the elves. “Because we each receive a fresh soul, we’re all wholly different in a way elves can never be. We’re not a unit, and we don’t act as one; but we do come together when it’s the right thing to do, when necessity requires it. You see us as replaceable, but nothing could be further from the truth. Each human death is a tragedy to be mourned; every one of our souls, whether lost to age or illness or accident is utterly irretrievable.”

  Ra-khir was as caught up in the argument as the elves themselves. He had never considered the differences that way, had never thought to present it in such a manner.

  Tem’aree’ay seized the moment. *The humans did nothing wrong. They don’t deserve extermination. How can we allow that to happen?*

  A new mind-voice joined the others. *Where were the humans when we lost most of our own to Ragnarok’s fire? Why didn’t they help us?*

  *They were here,* Tem’aree’ay pinned her gaze on an individual elf. Apparently, she could tell who had spoken, while it all seemed nebulous to Ra-khir. *On Midgard, where they live. Even if they had had any knowledge of our plight, they don’t have any ability to jump worlds to help us.*

  Ra-khir knew more. “If not for a human, you would not have gained the time to jump to our world; and even if you still managed it, you would have found Midgard in flames as well. If not for a human, Frey would have died, as long prophesied, in the Ragnarok. All elves would have perished, and all but two humans as well, leaving only a scant handful of lesser gods. It was the immortal human Renshai, Colbey Calistinsson, who thwarted Odin and turned the tide of that long-ago decided battle.” He found himself adding for his son’s benefit, “Sir Colbey Calistinsson, the world’s only Renshai Knight of Erythane.”

  Calistin swiveled his head to his father, clearly startled by the proclamation, though his brothers had known for at least a year. Ra-khir only hoped the information might earn them some elfin dispensation.

  *We lost a lot of elves.*

  Ra-khir would not allow them to shunt any of the blame to humanity. “Through no fault of ours. The fire giants set the world ablaze, as foretold. We have done you no harm at all, even after elves cursed us and took over our high kingdom.”

  Defensiveness entered the next sending, and Ra-khir also thought he sensed a hint of guilt. *That was the svartalf, and they were punished.*

  Though he hated to do it, Ra-khir had to capitalize on whatever remorse the elves might suffer. “At the time, there were no svartalf or lysalf. There were simply elves. We know only that you invaded our world, stole our fertility, caused our women untold misery. An elfin imposter took over our high kingdom, condemning our finest ministers to death.” He made a gesture that encompassed the group. “Every one of us here now, requesting your assistance, endured direct and terrible pain as a result of the svartalf’s actions; but we still come peacefully, without a shred of anger or bitterness.”

  Ra-khir seized Marisole’s shoulders. “This young woman’s grandmother, Béarn’s one true bard, was murdered in the purge.” He pointed at Calistin. “That young man’s mother, also my wife, was imprisoned and raped under the guise of maintaining her fertility. Calistin lost his soul when she got bitten by spirit spiders in the quest to restore what the elves had stolen from us. He was in her womb at the time.”

  That pronouncement sent a shiver through the elves. They understood the significance of lost souls, at least.

  Still touching Marisole, Ra-khir drew Tem’aree’ay into the same embrace. “This beautiful elf created a child in the hope it might solve two problems: elf-inflicted human infertility and the shortage of elfin souls. For her sacrifice, you shun her child and make her feel as if her life no longer has meaning.” Ra-khir released the females and shook his head. “And you dare to call us cruel and warlike, ponderous and set in our ways. It’s you who refuse to open yourselves to new experiences, who condemn without knowledge, who turn your backs on those in need.”

  Heavy silence greeted Ra-khir’s words. He could hear the faint hum of insects, the gentle lap of surf upon the beach.

  Ra-khir shook his head. “I know you don’t believe it, but there will come a time, another time, when elves need our help. And we will be there for you because that is what we are, who we are. An alliance with the king of Béarn would do you nothing but good, yet you reject him just as you do this lost young woman who carries half your blood.” This time, he indicated Ivana with a tip of his head. “And, soon enough, you will have no one to call upon in your time of need. We will all be dead, and the giants will come after you with their swords already soaked in our entrails.”

  Without another word, Ra-khir turned on his heel and headed back toward the waiting ships. He could hear footsteps behind him and knew at least some of the others were following him.

  One elfin voice tickled Ra-khir’s mind. *Your son has a soul.*

  Ra-khir stumbled. A root caught his foot, and it took a sidestep and a sweep of his arm to regain his balance. Calistin had to draw up to keep from walking into his teetering father, and even Magnus stared at the knight with obvious curiosity.

  Ra-khir looked for the source of the information, not wishing to send anything aloud. He felt certain he alone had received the message. Otherwise, Calistin, at least, would have reacted in some fashion.

  The elf appeared to understand Ra-khir’s need. *It’s Chan’rék’ril, Ra-khir.* He used the shortened form of his elfin name, the only one Ra-khir had ever known. *Look farther left, and you’ll see me near El-brinith.*

  Ra-khir turned his head leftward, seeking familiar faces among the many elves. Finally, he found them. Chan’rék’ril looked the same as he had eighteen years ago, with shaggy bronze hair and amber eyes. Beside him, El-brinith waved. She was slight, even for an elf, with red-blonde hair that nearly matched his own. Ra-khir smiled and returned a subtle greeting.

  El-brinith spoke into Ra-khir’s mind. *Calistin Ra-khirsson has clear ejenlyåndel. Nod if you understand.*

  Ra-khir remembered the elfin concept. They had discussed it after the spirit spider had bitten Kevral. At the time, they had assumed her soul was lost; but, using that same word, Captain had stated Kevral gave off an “immortality echo,” a sense of infinality that
represented the elfin magical concept of the spirit. Diverting his thoughts from the cause of Kevral’s death, Ra-khir had learned a Valkyrie had guided Kevral to Valhalla, proving her soul did, indeed, exist. Only later, he discovered the victim of the spirit spider’s attack had been the infant in her womb at the time: Calistin.

  The elves had suffered a similar tragedy. Another spirit spider had bitten Chan’rék’ril. Given the necessary recycling, it had to seem a far worse fate to them, another soul forever lost from the elfin pool. Ra-khir studied Chan’rék’ril, too far to discern emotion in his eyes. Only the silent wringing of hands told him what he had only just surmised. The elf had an enormous stake in their discovery. If Calistin had retrieved his spirit, there was still hope for Chan’rék’ril and the past and future owners of his elfin soul.

  Ra-khir nodded carefully. He wanted to make sure the elves knew he understood without revealing the private conversation they clearly did not want the other elves and humans to hear. Only then, Ra-khir thought to look for his companions, all of whom had followed him toward the ship. He pointed surreptitiously at Ivana, hating to admit that, if he had a choice of which mission the elves accepted, it would have little or nothing to do with her.

  Chan’rék’ril apparently understood the gesture. *Don’t leave yet. Give us some time to talk.* Having traveled with humans, he had a better grasp of how they functioned. For an elf, two decades was not so long ago. *Can you find something to keep you here until tomorrow?*

  Ra-khir nodded. As little as he liked the delay, he knew it could have been a lot worse. “Wait here,” he said softly to the other members of the party. He needed to talk to the captain and did not want the others to follow him onto the ship. Once they all came aboard, he would have a difficult time explaining why they all needed to disembark.

  Ra-khir had no idea how much influence El-brinith and Chan’rék’ril might hold in the elfin community, if such things even mattered. Worried to get his hopes up, worried not to, Ra-khir hurried onto the ship.

  When so many conflicting people clash, each believing themselves utterly correct, I don’t see how any of them possibly could be.

  —Knight-Captain Kedrin of Erythane

  TAE KAHN AWAKENED to a world consisting almost entirely of pain. It rushed down on him with a suddenness that disoriented, filling his mind, overwhelming his senses. Eyes tightly closed, he tried to orient himself, to remember the circumstances that had brought him to this loathsome plain of existence. Gradually, the agony became circumscribed, limited almost completely to the length of his spine. He could feel smooth, fast movement beneath him, and Imorelda’s presence pounded relentlessly at his at mind. *Wakeupwakeupwakeup!*

  Tae responded dizzily, *I’m up . . . I think.* He forced his eyes open and found the cat so close he could see nothing but a sea of darkish fur.

  *Talk to the girl. She’s desperately scared.*

  Tae could not believe everything hinged on him when he felt this bad. *Why didn’t you keep her calm?* His memory plowed through fog. He could not recall what allowed him to sleep in a desperate situation. *Why didn’t someone wake me up?*

  Imorelda fairly yowled into his head. *I’ve been trying forever.* She added, answering his questions in reverse order. *And I don’t speak gibberish.*

  The prior events finally returned to Tae in a rush: the capture of Arturo and, incidentally, the young giantess; the arrow in his back that might paralyze him; the certain pursuit of a magical armada. Afraid to move, he closed his eyes again. *Imorelda, is Matrinka finished with me? Can I sit up without risking paralyzation?*

  *Ask her yourself.* The cat’s tail lashed into and out of his limited vision. *Mistri needs you. Arturo, too. Subikahn keeps knocking him down.*

  “Matrinka,” Tae attempted. His dry mouth emitted the name as a croak. He tried again. “Matrinka!”

  The queen of Béarn was at his side in an instant. “Are you all right?”

  Tae addressed Imorelda first. *Why’s Subikahn knocking Arturo down?* Then to Matrinka, “I feel like about twenty large men with spiked clubs were beating me in my sleep.” He finally took in his surroundings. He had awakened on the deck at the base of the main mast. The sail bulged above his head. Sea air and salt spray whipped past at a dangerously fast pace.

  Mental responses nearly always beat physical ones. *Because Arturo is acting crazy.*

  “I’m sorry.” Matrinka crouched at Tae’s head and stroked his tangled hair. “Do you want me to help you up?”

  “No, I can do it.” Tae tensed, sending a stab of pain through his back. “I just wasn’t sure it was safe yet.” Accustomed to his usual grace, he moved too quickly. Vertigo crushed down on him, his vision washed to a plain of whirling spots, and he had to clutch the mast and go absolutely still to avoid losing consciousness again.

  Matrinka steadied him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  For a moment, Tae could not answer. When he finally considered himself capable of speaking without descending into oblivion, he succumbed to irritation. “I’m fine.” He shook her off, still holding the mast. “Stop babying me.” Determined to stand, he did, though much more slowly.

  Matrinka stepped back. “Tae, I drugged you, remember? Then performed some surgery. It’s going to take time for the effects to wear off.”

  Tae knew he was angry at himself, not Matrinka. She was one of his closest friends and the queen of Béarn. He had been lucky to have a highly experienced healer on board; if Matrinka had not come, he would be paralyzed or dead. “I’m sorry. I meant to say thank you. Again.”

  “You’re welcome,” Matrinka said as graciously as if those had been the first words out of Tae’s mouth.

  *Arturo is acting crazy,* Imorelda reminded.

  “Matrinka, Imorelda says Arturo’s acting crazy.”

  Matrinka looked away. Her shoulders heaved.

  This time, Tae took her into his arms. “Matrinka?”

  “He doesn’t remember.” Matrinka hid her eyes, but Tae could hear the tears in her tone. “He doesn’t remember me. I don’t think he remembers anything.”

  Tae did not know what to say. “You’re . . . sure it’s Arturo?”

  Matrinka turned him a look that withered even through welling tears. “I know my son.”

  *It’s Arturo,* Imorelda confirmed. *I know his smell.*

  *His smell?*

  *All humans have a unique smell. I’ve told you that.*

  Tae needed to shut the cat down to converse with Matrinka. *You’ve told me I stink.*

  *You all stink. Just in different ways.*

  Tae did not take the bait. “Matrinka, how does something like that happen? Does it mean his brain got . . . damaged?”

  Matrinka sighed deeply. “Quite possibly, but not necessarily. Sometimes, when something traumatic happens, something too horrible to remember, a person blocks out all thought of it. Rarely, they do such a good job, they lose all memory: past, present, or both.”

  Surprised, Tae stared. “You’ve seen that?”

  “On a much smaller scale.” Matrinka nodded, tears abating as she considered her own experiences. “I’ve had patients who couldn’t remember what happened to them or even how they ended up at a particular location. It was as if their memories just stopped at a certain point, and everything after that moment was . . . erased.” She gave him a pointed look. “I think you’ve been there at least once.”

  Tae supposed he probably had but preferred not to consider his many injuries at the moment.

  Matrinka continued. “Often, they forget a lot of what happens later, too, including my treatments.”

  Tae realized something, “You don’t get a lot of gratitude for all the work you do.”

  “That’s not why I do it, Tae.”

  Tae knew she spoke the truth.

  Imorelda slammed her furry head into Tae’s shin. *The little gir
l!*

  Combined with the swiftness of the ship’s glide, the bump nearly took his feet out from under him. Tae gripped the main mast again. He would never describe Mistri as little, but he understood the significance of the cat’s words. “Where is Arturo?”

  “In the hold.” Matrinka indicated the ring to the under decks with one outstretched foot. “I’d have preferred to treat you there, but it was too dangerous to have you unconscious with them stumbling around, and Subikahn worried they might leap overboard.”

  “I’m fine,” Tae said, seizing the ring. Dizziness surged through him again, and his stomach threatened to disgorge its contents. He tried to hide his weakness but had no choice. He paused long enough to control his roiling gut as well as his steps. When he recovered, he pulled it open carefully.

  Imorelda slid past to glide silently downward. Light poured into the hold, illuminating a darkness barely held at bay by a single lantern. Before Tae could fully get his bearings, Subikahn called up. “Come on down, if you want. It’s safe for the moment.”

  Tae accepted the invitation, and Matrinka pounded down after him. Subikahn sat on a chair in the middle of the room, facing a corner where Mistri cowered behind a glaring Arturo. All of the remaining furniture, including all of the pallets, were shoved into an untidy heap at Subikahn’s back.

  *I’ll take you to her,* Imorelda said, and Tae understood she meant to the mental level of Mistri’s communication.

  *Tae!* The giant girl greeted him with a burst of enthusiasm. She clearly would have hugged him had Subikahn not sat between them.

  Tae dropped to a sitting position beside Subikahn. He would have preferred to crouch but suspected the pooling of blood into his lower extremities would send his senses reeling. He responded verbally in the Heimstadr language. Not only did this obviate the need to rely on his pounding head, it was the only way Arturo could hear him. “Hello, Mistri. Hello, Arturo.”

  When Tae switched to verbal, Mistri did as well, though she clearly preferred the mental language. It allowed her more fluency. “He name’s Bobbin.”