“It is good to follow orders,” she said plainly.
“Yes, but at what cost?”
“There is always a cost, one way or another. Would you have less skilled scouts track these humans and end up dead themselves?” she asked inquisitively.
Arandur sighed deeply, letting the frustration roll off him. “I cannot believe that they’ve been unable to find her.”
“There are several paths through the high mountains; they have yet to find the direction she’s chosen.”
“Leave it to Analindë to complicate her own rescue.” Arandur tugged his coat closed, the wind was chilly.
Thalion stepped forward to stand at his other side, then spoke quietly. “From what I hear, Lord Master Therin did that all by himself.”
“What do you mean Thalion?” Arandur asked.
“He scryed for her, and found her, then tried to partially port through the spell to speak with her. She reacted predictably by blocking him out and then running. No one has been able to locate her since.”
Arandur shook his head. “She was barely into her powers.”
“She’s a Mage of Lindënolwë and has mage potential more than most. Would you expect any less?”
Sintriel answered in derision, “With all the young students Master Therin has tutored throughout the years, it’s incredible that he lacked the forethought to see that she would be afraid. Of course she would be afraid. Even I would have been afraid, perhaps.”
“Take courage Arandur, they’ll find her eventually.”
“Yes, but what state will she be in when they do? Did she pack enough food? Did she take an extra change of clothes. What about a winter jacket, a blanket, or a pair of gloves? If she should fall and injure herself, who will be there to give her aid?”
He bowed his head, exhaling his fears. He rubbed the knotted muscles at the back of his neck. Urúvion and Morcion would soon be back. He needed to pull himself together. “How many scouts do they have searching for her?”
“About a dozen. They’ve been placed at the known trailheads on the other side of the mountain range. They’re quickly working their way in, not knowing which path she’ll have chosen to take.”
“That is good news.” He stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back as he did so. “Come, dinner smells like it’s ready, and if I’m not mistaken, our fellow scouts will be here in a moment.”
Not long after the three companions settled back down around the comfortable campfire, the other two scouts ducked into camp. Morcion seemed blissfully unaware of the lingering tension in the air. Urúvion eyed Arandur in concern as they joined them around the fire. Arandur nodded back, acknowledging that he knew Urúvion had overheard their discussion.
“Urúvion, report,” Arandur stated.
The scout nodded, then said, “We took inventory of the amateurish wards that the human wizard managed to set up around tonight’s encampment. The other two humans have become mistrustful of the wizard’s skills and have set up perimeter noise traps of their own. Morcion has reached out to some of the local wildlife. They’ve agreed to trip some of the traps throughout the night in order to keep the humans awake, paranoid, and short of sleep. We showed the animals the best way to set off the traps without being injured or caught.”
“Great thinking,” said Arandur. “Morcion, many thanks for using your talents thus. If the humans aren’t up to full strength, then it might give us more time to learn their intentions before the council decides which course of action we should take.”
Morcion nodded and Urúvion continued, “We also studied the flow of power in the areas where the human set up his wards. The human has grabbed power from the flow in an uncontrolled manner. Fortunately, the protections he’s set aren’t that powerful and so the damage is minimal. The flow should self-heal within the next few years.” Urúvion paused briefly, then continued. “However, we believe that the human wizard is potentially very dangerous. We believe he’s attempting to tap into the deeper pools of power in the area, and if that happens, then he’ll cause a lot more damage.”
Arandur leaned forward, frowning. “But they haven’t yet tapped into the pools?”
“No, they haven’t.”
“Thank the Stars.”
“Indeed,” Sintriel muttered.
Urúvion continued, “We located a hidden place a safe distance away from the encampment where I was able to listen in on the humans. They’re quite disgruntled, and I’ve noticed that their working relationships have disintegrated over the past couple of days. I anticipate that it won’t take much to turn them on each other. While Morcion and I surveyed the camp, it seemed that they were fighting over a bowl of water. If I’m not mistaken, they’ve been waiting for someone to give further instructions to them, but no one has yet contacted them.
“We didn’t want to mistakenly miss them speaking with the traitors, so we waited until the water was poured out of the bowl and they’d bedded down for sleep before returning to camp.”
“Well done, Urúvion. Thalion, do you know much about communicating through a medium like water?”
Thalion shook his head. “Not very much. It’s rumored that in the past there were many ways to communicate long distances, one of which was tied to a method like scrying. It would make use of a bowl of water, or a glassy surface, so that one could see as well as hear the person one communicated with. Unfortunately, some of these forms of communication have been deliberately shrouded throughout time, especially in the time since the last wars.” He paused, looking away from the group, then back again. “Personally, I think that many of our people just wanted to forget, and so they did.”
“Sintriel?” Arandur asked.
She shook her head, meaning that she had nothing to add.
“The Sword Sworn might know. You don’t happen to have any old friends in the service who you could reach out to, do you?” Arandur asked Thalion.
He shivered, an odd look crossed his face, and then he said, “Yes, I think there’s someone I could reach out to.” He closed his eyes.
Sintriel elbowed him, hissing, “You shouldn’t have asked. Most times it’s best not to bring yourself to their attention.”
Confused, Arandur apologized to Sintriel saying that he didn’t know. Then he thought to himself of how there was much about the Sword Sworn he didn’t know, that none of them knew. Those in the service were the Realm’s secret keepers. But they were more than that; they were protectors, ever on the watch, ready to stand guard to keep the peace. If ever there was a time to use Sword Sworn knowledge or services, now was that time. It had been a logical next step to contact the elite corps, but now he wondered at the cost to his friend.
Thalion’s eyes were still closed, his face blank, and so Arandur turned his attention back to the others in the group. “So have any of you thought further upon why the humans are able to move so quickly and are stronger than we thought possible?”
Morcion moved to speak, but Sintriel beat him to it.
“Actually, yes, I have, and I think I’ve figured it out. They’re wearing charms. Very ancient and powerful protective charms. The amulets they wear are giving them limited strength, which appears to have just run out. We should expect them to move significantly slower and sleep longer over the next few days as the charms recharge and the humans physically recover. Also, any offensive action we take against them should be non-power based, which shouldn’t present any problems to us since we aren’t mages. If the humans are attacked by any type of offensive spell, the amulet is keyed to attack the attackers with up to level eighteen spells.”
Arandur grinned. Sintriel was a gem. “Thanks Sintriel.” She grinned back at him, pleased that she’d been able to speak.
Morcion added with a smile toward Sintriel, “The animals I’ve spoken with have confirmed that the humans are wearing amulets. They say that the amulet worn by the wizard is different, that it is larger than the others.”
“Have they happened to mention what the amulets look l
ike?” Arandur asked.
“Yes, they’re silver with green enameled ornamentation.” Arandur nodded, thoughtful once more. He glanced over to Thalion. His eyes were open and a hand rested against his chest. The two friends exchanged looks but neither mentioned the ancient amulet that Thalion wore beneath his shirt.
“How old did you say the charms were Sintriel?”
“Quite old. Several generations old at least,” she replied easily.
“Morcion, you’ll let us know if you learn anything further?”
“Yes, of course,” Morcion said.
“What news Thalion?”
“Not the kind we expected.”
Arandur frowned, he didn’t like the look in his friend’s eyes. Reaching out to the Sword Sworn had been the wrong thing to do. “Had they heard of that form of communication?”
“Yes, they’d heard, but didn’t know much more than we. They said they’d begin combing their archives for more information, specifically on how to intercept those communications. However, they did ask me to pass along a message. They didn’t specifically state who the message was for but insisted that it be relayed.” Thalion’s gaze didn’t quite meet Arandur’s eyes.
Very curious and slightly ill at ease, Arandur asked, “What is the message?”
“They said people in the realm have begun the swearing of oaths again one to another.” Thalion said the words evenly, without nuance.
“Gette lor’ de lissance,” Urúvion spat out, glaring at the ground before him. “It’s an oath that’s been twisted and bent from its original form. True oath binding rarely happens these days so beware of any who offer it to you. It brings a false surety to those poor fools that are taken in.”
“I agree,” Sintriel added.
This turn in the discussion left Arandur unsettled, and so he pushed Sintriel as he usually wouldn’t. “Sintriel, come, surely you can tell us more than that?”
He couldn’t read her face, but she stared down each of them in turn before relenting. “There are two types of oath binding, one for allies, the other as fealty. The oath still works for those that use it truly, the rest stands. If someone offers you a false oath, be wary, cautious.”
“These humans!” Arandur stood. “What have they started?” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to step away for a moment.” And so he left them, the others avoided his gaze. Stalking out into the surrounding darkness to be alone, he wanted to rage, he wanted to yell. He could do neither, so he walked until he calmed down. A leader was level headed. A leader made smart decisions and did not place his friends in danger lightly. A leader did not bring hidden talents to the attention of dangerous people. He wanted to swear, break something. Instead, he sat on the ground, channeled his anger to give him better reach and then sent his focus running down toward the human encampment.
He left his body completely.
Idiocy?
Yes, absolutely.
Did he care?
No. He did not.
The area was mostly safe as his friends were nearby. And at the moment, he didn’t care if assassins came and slaughtered him where he sat.
His thoughts circled the camp, taking note of the human traps and wards as he passed them. He moved around the humans from a distance, not wanting to wake the protective charm that watched over them. It wasn’t long before he’d itemized everything within the camp. And not long after that before he’d deduced which item the humans had attempted to scry with. The bowl was shallow, silver, and had a faint pulse of Energy about it. It hadn’t been used in quite some time, but it had been used nonetheless. The Energy signatures on the bowl were Elven.
The Ninth Chapter
At the Glacier Lake
IT WAS THE HUNGER PAINS that roused her. Not because they were the worst, but because there was something she could do about them.
She’d hidden from the rest of the pain for who knew how long, until it had become a dull throbbing. It was easier that way to float, drift, and move away from its sharpness. But now she was hungry.
She opened her eyes and slowly focused on her surroundings. “Ah, still at the lake,” she muttered. She moaned as she pushed herself up from the unforgiving ground, focusing intently on the rock in front of her as the world spun.
“What happened? . . . ” then she remembered, “Oh, the shield.” She closed her eyes, shifting to magesight, and willed the spinning to stop. As she searched for injuries inside, she gasped. Her mage pathways and connections were a horrific mess. Everyplace she looked shrieked an angry hurt.
“Why didn’t I notice before?” she whispered, then realized that she’d felt nothing while using the flat shield and that she hadn’t thought to look. Because of the pain she felt and the game she’d played while centering, she now knew where and how to look.
Traces of raw blackness tinged with red covered ninety percent of what she saw. As she scanned the mage pathways woven throughout her body, she caught sight of several tendrils of crisp clear blue weaving in, out, and across her network of connections. “What’s this?”
Curious, she followed the blue threads through her body, noticing that they gently strengthened many of her hurts with a cool soothing balm. Around and around she followed the blue threads as they coalesced together and was out of her body and halfway to the lake before she realized it. Analindë pulled her magesight back to a wider view and saw a small stream of Energy flowing from the lake to herself.
The lake had answered her cry for help.
She didn’t know what to think.
Still in shock, she simply sat and watched the steady flow of cool Energy from the lake continue to flow around and through her injuries. She wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before her mind began to pick up on the patterns it wove as it soothed her hurts. But the patterns were pretty. Restful. Comforting.
She felt crippled. Incapable of cataloging all the things wrong inside of her, she decided to simply ignore them and think of other things as the glacier lake continued to do whatever it was doing.
She didn’t know how or why it had responded, only that it had and that she was very grateful.
She didn’t sense any malicious or aggressive feelings from the lake. Only crisp blessed coolness. So she sat back and watched the blue energies soothe her blackened hurts, mind blank and senses open.
Sharp stomach cramping and acidy pains broke through her thoughts. She opened her eyes, grabbed her pack and rummaged through it. Withdrawing a handful of dried fruit and nuts, she pulled her knees up against herself, leaned forward, propping her arms on them and ate.
“I wonder how much time has passed.” She counted the remaining days of travel ahead of her and tallied her wounds. “I hurt, but I’ll live.”
She repacked her belongings and pulled herself to her feet as her strained muscles ached in agony. “Too much time on the cold hard ground I think,” she said to herself as she dusted dirt from her clothes, then strapped her scout pack to her body. She ignored the places on her shoulders where the pack weighed heavily and instead focused on remaining upright.
Analindë hobbled down to the lake, stiffness working its way out of her muscles as she moved. She drank from her cupped hand until her stomach ached from the cold, then refilled her water sack. “Thank you,” she whispered to the lake as she disconnected herself from the thick cord of blue which still fed Energy to her mage network. She ran her fingertips along the surface of the too-still lake, reluctant to leave. Eventually she rose, turned toward the mountain pass that would take her out of the valley, and started walking. A dull throb deep within her chest and constant pain remained her only companions.
As she neared the tallest peak of the journey, Analindë wished she had gloves. She was, however, grateful for the warming spell that was woven into her clothing. The spell was the only thing that prevented her from becoming a block of ice, since she couldn’t spare the Energy to create a constant warming weave of her own.
Her stops to refill he
r reservoir had become briefer and briefer over the past day or so. Her body was still drawing heavily upon her reserves, probably in an effort to self-heal, but either she was getting quicker at drawing Energy in or she was using less of it. Either way, she was making better progress.
The trail along this peak was steep, and loose shale was a problem. She had slipped a few times earlier this morning and barely caught herself from plummeting over the edge and down into a ravine. She periodically wondered about altitudes and oxygen deprivation, but pushed those thoughts aside. There was nothing she could do about such a thing. The cold made her clumsy, slowing her down, making her hands and feet a little sluggish and unresponsive. Picking her way along, she rounded the face of the mountain and looked out over the valley below without enthusiasm.
The mountain track she followed had wound itself around, up and through the mountain peaks and valleys of the high mountains. And she wasn’t close enough to being finished. She thought back to the summer in which her mother had curbed her over-exuberance for being outside by making her study maps. Maps of their surrounding area, maps of different types of terrain, maps of the entire Realm. Analindë could be considered a master cartographer in her own right, but now she was only thankful, not proud. She thought back to the maps she had studied and her knowledge of the terrain. If she remembered correctly, several more mountain peaks lay between her and Mirëdell. She estimated that if she could manage to travel quickly, she would reach Mirëdell in three days. And if she wasn’t very quick, five.
Wondering if she’d ever feel warm again in her life, she lumbered down the mountain’s north face. It probably would have been a better idea to travel to Mirëtasarë. That way was smoother.
Analindë glanced down at her feet as she clambered over a small stream and was grateful for the thousandth time that she had been working in the forest that day the Humans had come. If she’d been at home, not only would she be dead like the rest of her family, but she would undoubtedly have been wearing a dress or the flowing at-home trousers she usually wore with nice soft slippers. Not her sturdy scout’s clothes and boots. Thoughts of soft slippers brought other unwelcome thoughts with them, which she quickly pushed away, focusing on the beautiful pine trees below her instead.
Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) Page 11