Eternal

by Pati Nagle

  “Then we hunt the other, the female.”

  “You do not know where she is,” said Madóran. “You could exhaust yourselves searching.”

  “Have there been no more human victims?”

  Len took out her phone and surfed up some news. She glanced up at me. “Another killing on campus two nights ago. Looks like our girl’s still in town.”

  “Who was it?” I asked.

  “No one we know.”

  Our gazes held. I swallowed. We both knew it could have been one of us.

  “So we three return to the city,” Bironan said. “With Savhoran to help us, we will be four.”

  No one pointed out that five of them had been hunting the alben for weeks without success. She must have found a really good hiding place. I wondered idly if the coffin full of dirt was one of the myths that was true. Couldn’t really picture the alben—either of them—bedding down like that.

  A thought occurred to me. I didn’t like it, but I ought to bring it up.

  “What if more of them come?” I asked.

  They all stared at me. They didn’t like the idea either.

  “More alben,” I added. “The latest one came looking for Madóran, right?”

  Faranin turned to Madóran. “Will others seek you?”

  Madóran gave a helpless shrug.

  “Pirian is a greater danger in that respect. He might tell others where you are.”

  Madóran‘s eyes flashed. “And so you would kill him? No, Faranin. I will not have that on my conscience.”

  “We must act now,” said Bironan. “Hunt the female down, then return here. I will go.”

  Lomen looked from him to Faranin. “I think we should.”

  “How will you get there?” I asked. “Do any of you drive?”

  Lomen looked at me, slightly amused. “We are used to traveling on foot.”

  “But that’ll take days! Won’t it? Look, I could drive you guys. I’d be safe with four of you.”

  Len frowned. “Manda—”

  “And Savhoran can look after me while you’re hunting.”

  “He will not agree to that,” said Lomen. “He has claimed the kill.”

  They were all quiet, and I knew they wouldn’t let me go. I went to the counter and poured myself more tea, trying to collect myself.

  “Let us make no decision as yet,” said Madóran. “Bironan, I understand your desire for haste, but let us think on this a day.”

  Bironan bit his lip but didn’t disagree. Faranin nodded. Lomen stood and murmured something to Bironan, and the two of them went out. End of discussion, for now.

  I wondered who was the leader here. Faranin was the oldest, or one of the oldest. But even he deferred to Madóran. They all did. I’d assume he was the leader, except he wasn’t a member of the clan.

  I gave up thinking about it. I didn’t understand the ælven in a lot of ways.

  Nathrin and Mirali passed me on their way to their room. Nathrin glanced at me and smiled. They’d been listening; they knew the problem. Probably they’d rather have the whole clan stay here, to help protect Mirali.

  Faranin followed them out. Len and Caeran brought their dishes to the counter and then left, leaving just me and Madóran.

  Guess that was my cue. I turned to the sink and looked for dish soap.

  “You need not do that.”

  “You made a great breakfast, least I can do is help clean up.”

  He let me wash dishes while he put stuff away, then he dried the clean plates. It went pretty fast. When everything was done, he made another pot of tea and carried it to the table, beckoning me to join him.

  I sat across from him and wrapped my hands around my mug, enjoying the warmth. Outside in the courtyard birds were quarreling. I wanted to be out there, and knowing I couldn’t put a gloom over me. It felt like we were under siege.

  I looked at Madóran, who was musing. “You’ve been here a long time. Have other alben found you before? Before last fall, I mean.”

  He let out a slow breath. “No. A few ælven have come across me in their travels, but no alben until now.”

  “Something’s going to have to change.”

  His brow creased. “You are right.”

  I sipped my tea. “Len said you came with the Spanish colonists. Have you always lived in this house?”

  He smiled. “Ever since I built it.”

  “You built it?”

  “I had help. I had to learn how to make the adobe bricks. This was the first room.”

  I looked around the kitchen, picturing Madóran building it brick by brick, in the hot sun. “Wow. The fireplace, too?”

  “No. A kiva fireplace is tricky to build. I had a master fireplace builder make that one, and two of the others. He let me help, and I learned enough to do a passable job on the rest of the house as I added rooms. It is larger than I need—usually—but I liked the hacienda style. I visited some wealthy patients in their homes, and decided to make mine in the same way. I like the private garden, especially.”

  I nodded, looking out the window. “Yours is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I am sorry you cannot enjoy it just now, but this will pass.”

  “So what do we do? Wait until they catch the female, then what? Do you trust Pirian?”

  He looked troubled. “No, but I do not think he is interested in hunting you and Len, particularly. I told him you were my guests, and asked him to hunt elsewhere. I hope he will honor that.”

  “Did you tell him about the cure?”

  Madóran shook his head. “The cure is only a dream for now. I cannot placate the alben with a dream.”

  “You don’t think it would give them hope?”

  “To raise that hope without being certain we can fulfill it would be cruel.”

  He drank some tea. I watched him, thinking how amazing he was. If I hadn’t fallen for Savhoran I’d have fallen for him.

  “How can I help?”

  He looked up at me with a quick smile. “You are helping. Len misses her own kind when she is with us. Your company is good for her.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not what I meant. I was thinking about the cure.”

  “Are you interested in studying medicine?”

  “Not really. Len’s been bugging me to take classes with her.”

  “The more souls we have working on the project, the better our chance of success.”

  I stared at my cup. “Does Savhoran know about the cure?”

  “Yes. He is very important to the effort. We need the cooperation of someone afflicted with the curse, so that we can test our findings.”

  “And he agreed to that?”

  He nodded. “I admit that one of my reasons for asking him now, even though we will have no need of him for some years, was a desire to keep him from taking his life.”

  And was that cruel? To save his life with a hope that might not pan out?

  My eyes started to sting. I drank the last of my tea, trying to steady myself. Madóran laid his hand on my arm.

  “You are a great blessing to him. For that alone, we honor you.”

  “The others are all afraid of him,” I said.

  “They fear the curse.”

  “But it doesn’t bother you. I mean, you don’t—shun him, I guess—like the rest of them.”

  “Oh, it bothers me. But Savhoran is not at fault, and his intentions are pure. I trust him. So does Caeran.”

  “Yeah. Caeran is cool.”

  Madóran filled both our mugs. “You are thinking, perhaps, of Mirali. She has every reason to avoid Savhoran. We do not know exactly how the disease is transmitted, though the more intimate the contact the more likely it will pass. I had thought that any attack would cause infection, but Caeran has not succumbed. His wound was less severe than Savhoran’s, but it was a bite wound.”

  I sucked a sharp breath. So much for no biting. “I didn’t know that.”

  He gave a small shrug. “It is past. No sense in dwelling on it.”
r />   “How did it happen?”

  “Len did not tell you?”

  I shook my head. Madóran sipped his tea.

  “Gehmanin—the alben who came to New Mexico last fall—abducted Len and forced her to drive him north. He wanted her to bring him here, but her car ran out of fuel. Caeran was hiding in the trunk, and came out to protect Len. He and Gehmanin fought, and he was bitten. And it was Gehmanin who later injured Savhoran.”

  “And you knew him.”

  Madóran closed his eyes. “Long ago I knew him well.”

  Oh, boy. I had a guess about how well.

  “You’re sad he’s dead.”

  “I am sad that he was afflicted. It brought out the worst in him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He gave me a small smile. “Thank you. I cannot let the others see it, but I still grieve for him.”

  I had an urge to hug him, but I chickened out. I took another swallow of tea.

  “You like guys, huh?”

  His smile widened. “I like everyone.”

  “Oh.” A tingle went through me.

  He held my gaze for a moment that stretched to forever, then looked away and stood up. “I could use some help in the garden, if you are willing.”

  “Sure.” I gulped the last of my tea and put my mug in the sink. “Um, I should move my stuff, too, now that Caeran’s here.”

  “Ah, yes. You may put your things in your room, though if a hunting party leaves I will want you closer to the rest of us.”

  “OK. I’m mobile.”

  He walked with me to Len and Caeran’s room, and while I was packing up he went two doors down to ask Lomen to come out to the garden with us. I moved to my old room, then borrowed a hat and gloves from Madóran and we grubbed in the dirt while Lomen kept watch.

  I pulled weeds. It was good to do something physical and mindless. It helped dissipate the feeling of being trapped, and gave me time to do some thinking.

  I really did want to help with the cure, even though I was dubious about studying medicine. Science was never my best subject. In high school my favorite classes were art and shop. I liked working with my hands, especially woodworking. Too bad building game boards wouldn’t help the project.

  The rest of the day I stayed inside and read. Madóran showed me his library, which was almost as big as the great room and was doubling as a guest room at the moment. There were two daybeds that folded out for sleeping, and Lomen and Bironan were crashing there.

  I picked up a book that was lying on a desk by the window. It was hand-written in a beautiful script, with letters I’d never seen before though some of them looked familiar.

  “That is an ælven text,” Madóran said. “Len has been studying it.”

  “Len is learning ælven?”

  “Caeran has been teaching her. She is picking it up quickly.”

  “Can I learn it too?”

  “I imagine you could.”

  I turned a couple of pages. They were yellow and they crackled. “How old is this?”

  “I made that copy a few decades ago. You are right, I should recopy it soon.”

  “You made this book.”

  “I made the copy. I did not write it. The author crossed centuries ago.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Madóran could do anything. He’d had a long time to learn a lot of different skills. I carefully put the book down.

  Madóran gestured to a shelf. “These are the most current books I have, which is not saying much, I fear. There are a few novels from the last decade.”

  I picked out a book—a novel, written by a human who was probably still alive—and took it to my room, then scurried along the portal to Len and Caeran’s room. I knocked in case they wanted to be left alone. Len came to the door.

  “Madóran said you were learning ælven. Would you teach me?”

  “What little I know, sure. Give me about an hour?”

  “OK.”

  I went back to my room and read until Len knocked on my door. She was escorted by Caeran, who went with us to the great room and then went off to find Madóran. We settled in on the couch. Len had brought the ælven book from the library and a couple of notepads, one with her notes on it. She gave me the other one and a pencil and we killed a few hours going over the basics.

  Ælven is as hard as it is beautiful. It doesn’t have a lot in common with English, except that every now and then a word means the same thing in both languages. Len said that they were old words in English and had originally come from the ælven.

  That evening we all ate supper in the great room. It felt more formal sitting around the big dining table. Dinner was roast chicken, rice, and spinach from the garden. Madóran opened a couple of bottles of wine—unlabeled, and by now I had guessed that he probably made it—and poured it for everyone but Mirali. He murmured to her in ælven and she nodded, sticking with her glass of water. They drank a toast, in ælven so I didn’t understand it, but I raised my glass anyway.

  The conversation was about planning ahead: specifically, whether the clan should stay in New Mexico. They talked a little about where they’d come from; somewhere in Europe, I gathered, a forest that was being invaded by humans. It sounded like they thought going back there would be even worse than dealing with the alben. I mostly listened.

  When the meal was over Len and I cleared the table while the clan began to discuss the issue at hand: alben-hunting, when, where and how. They went back over the morning’s argument, still disagreeing over whether they should stick together or send out a party to hunt the female. Bironan wanted to hunt, and Lomen was with him. Faranin, Nathrin, and Mirali wanted everyone to stay put. Caeran and Madóran didn’t offer opinions.

  It looked like they were just going to keep arguing until something happened. I got up and wandered away from the table. The front windows were still covered, so I stepped into the entryway to look out on the plazuela. The green smell of all the plants made me relax.

  Len joined me. “This is how they work things out.”

  “By arguing about it over and over?”

  “Yeah. It beats a war.”

  I shook my head, gazing out at the twilit garden. “Sometimes I don’t understand them at all.”

  “Me neither. But it’s worth it.”

  I glanced at her. “You think you can find a cure?”

  She raised a shoulder. “I’m willing to spend my life trying.”

  Shouldn’t I be willing, too? Savhoran needed that cure.

  “I’m going to make some tea. You want anything?”

  I shook my head and watched her head for the kitchen. I envied her commitment, to be honest. She knew exactly what she wanted to accomplish in this life. I didn’t, really. I wanted to be with Savhoran, but that wasn’t a lifetime achievement.

  When she came back with a tray of teapot and mugs, I followed her back into the great room. The ælven were still debating around the dining table. Madóran smiled and nodded at Len. She and I served tea to them all, then retreated to the sofa with our own mugs. We might be honorary members of the clan, but we didn’t have a say in this discussion.

  To my surprise, they actually reached a decision. Bironan had worn them down and convinced them that a party should go out to hunt the female alben. Faranin finally agreed to go with him and Lomen. It sounded like they were still planning to walk.

  I got up and walked over to the table. “Look, if you won’t let me drive you, at least take the bus. You’ll get there faster.”

  Bironan frowned. “Bus?”

  “Yeah. You can catch one to Albuquerque from Las Vegas. Len or I could drive you there tomorrow.”

  “I will drive them,” Caeran said.

  Len whipped out her phone and surfed up the bus schedule. Plans were made, and the meeting was over.

  Nathrin and Mirali headed for their room, and the rest of them drifted over to the sofa and chairs. Madóran got out his guitar and he and Len took turns playing. On one song that Madóran played, a
ll the ælven sang along in their language. It was so strange and beautiful it gave me goosebumps.

  I got out a deck of cards and sat at the long table, playing solitaire. It helped me think.

  What could I do to help? Playing poker wasn’t useful, especially since money wasn’t an issue.

  I could boss the ælven around.

  I snarked to myself as I shuffled. Probably they wouldn’t put up with me telling them what to do, but I did sometimes wish I could. Their beat-the-dead-horse method of discussion was a slow way of getting things done.

  Lomen came over and joined me. I dealt us a hand of Hold’em.

  “We will play in another tournament,” he said. “You were doing very well. You deserve another chance.”

  “Thanks. Your action.”

  “Check.”

  “I bet two samolians,” I said.

  “Call.”

  I dealt the flop, low mixed garbage. Lomen checked again. I looked at my cards: they hadn’t changed. Jack-ten off-suited.

  “Check.”

  Turn card: ten. Lomen checked.

  “Four samolians.”

  He called. I turned over the river card, a seven. There was a chance of a straight. Lomen checked again.

  I stared at him for a minute, trying to decide if he was slow-playing me. He gazed mildly back. Ælven don’t get impatient—they have all the time in the world.

  I checked and showed my hand. He turned over pocket aces.

  “You should have bet those,” I said.

  “You would have folded.”

  “Maybe, but you might have won more if I called. And more to the point, I could have caught a straight and beat you. Better to bet hard with pockets.”

  He smiled. “I am disinclined to be aggressive. You are a better player.”

  In poker, yeah I guessed I was. Arrogance can pay. Not that the ælven weren’t arrogant in their own way, but they were usually subtle about it.

  I hastily wrapped white light around that thought. Glanced at Lomen, but he didn’t show any sign of having heard.

  The next morning after breakfast Caeran drove the hunting party to Las Vegas in Len’s car. Still no answer when I called Savhoran’s cell, and he hadn’t left me a message. I tried to dismiss it, but I was worried.

  I helped Madóran in the garden again, this time with Len standing guard. Nathrin was sticking close to Mirali. I missed Lomen more than I’d expected, and was glad when Caeran came back. He brought in four bags of groceries; Madóran had given him a shopping list. I helped put stuff away.