“Ealian, some stones? Please,” Elspeth persisted.
Ealian appeared to snap from his stupor. “Right, uh… yes… stones. Sorry,” he said as though back to his old self. He rustled around thicket and found a few rocks. Slowly, he gathered them up and took them to what would be the fireplace.
Thinking all was now well with the boy, Daric set about preparing some fish for supper.
“Ay… What was that?” Gialyn cried.
Daric dropped the food bag and looked for Gialyn.
His son was standing at the far side of the clearing, rubbing his arm, and staring at Ealian. Elspeth’s brother had a rock in his hand and seemed about ready to throw it.
“What are you doing? Drop that bloody rock before I drop you, boy,” Daric shouted.
He was about to grab Ealian when Elspeth put herself between them.
“Just a minute, Mr. Re’adh,” she said – or more like ordered, with her hand barring his advance.
She moved closer to Ealian.
The boy’s skin appeared clammy. His mouth was half-agape.
“Are you well, brother?” Elspeth put her hand on his head. “He is burning up,” she said, turning to Daric, who was by now standing beside her, orders or not.
“Yes, he doesn’t look well at all.” Daric tugged Ealian’s pack from the pile and pulled out his bedroll. He quickly rolled it out close to where the fire would be. “Best get him down and rested,” Daric said. “I suppose he’s had the worst of it today.”
Elspeth coaxed Ealian towards his bedroll. He followed as though unaware of his movement. Once on the ground, he curled up like a baby, with his knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Elspeth took his blanket and covered him with it. She knelt by his side. Daric did not think she looked any better than the boy did.
“We’ll leave him quiet for the night and hope the rest heals him,” Daric said. “Put some water close to hand. We will save him some food in case he feels better later.”
Elspeth carefully brushed Ealian’s matted hair from his eyes. “You’re always the one getting into trouble, aren’t you, brother?” she whispered. His eyes stared vacantly – pools of yellow fixed with indifference to her touch. She looked up at Daric. “Should his eyes look like that? What’s wrong with him?” She sounded panicked, just as she had done that morning.
“Let him be, Elspeth,” Daric said gently. “I’m sure it will pass. Rest is what he needs.”
Elspeth nodded. “Yes, of course. I hope you’re right.” She turned back to Ealian. “Don’t you go getting sick on me, brother. This is no place to be ill.”
Carefully, she pulled the blanket up to his chin and patted it down. Daric handed her a waterskin, which she put close at hand.
Gialyn and Olam came back to the camp, hands full of sticks and dried branches. They each gave Ealian a puzzled look.
“What is wrong with him?” Gialyn asked. “Why did he throw a rock at us?”
Daric listened while Elspeth explained away Ealian’s actions. It sounded plausible enough – tiredness, shock, hunger – but Daric was not convinced. He had seen how stress and fear can affect even the best-trained soldier, and wondered if Ealian was suffering from the same.
He noticed Olam gazing at the boy. The old wizard looked scared as if he had seen a ghost. And when Daric looked, Ealian was staring back at Olam. Hatred filled the boy’s eyes – Daric had seen the look before, many times, usually when one man was about to kill another. What could Olam have done to make the boy behave in such a way?
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 14
Dreams and Demons: Part One
A bell sounded in the distance. The echoing chimes surrounded Ealian until he could not tell from which direction the first sound had come. He spun around, looking, searching, but the view was the same as the last time he was here, the same as it had been every time he had returned to this place.
Where am I?
Ealian had no idea why he had chosen this path. They all looked the same, all sprouting from the ten-span-wide island on which he had awakened not five minutes earlier. The path led to other islands, he knew, but it was hard to make out anything but the black earth beneath his feet. Above them, the sky was near black, thick with dark clouds.
Is this a dream? It must be!
The sense that he was not alone was overwhelming. Someone was there, lurking in the shadows at the edge of his vision. Whoever they were frightened him. Although, beneath the fear, he held a nasty suspicion that he was the stranger. How can that be?
Ealian looked along the path; their destination coalesced like a ship sailing out of thick fog. First, the island shimmered in the distance, like the horizon on a hot day, and then it jumped forward: what had seemed a hundred paces away was now barely a dozen.
Backing away, Ealian closed his eyes – he had a fair idea there would be nothing good on that island – and managed to turn around. He took a few steps and opened his eyes. He was not surprised to see the island still in front of him. He put one foot on the muddy earth and sensed what felt like grease covering him from head to foot. The air was thick, it was hard to breathe, but he took another step… or was it the other who had moved forward?
The world flickered…
Ealian found himself standing in the middle of a small village green. On his left, a long table had been set up with plates of food and pitchers of what smelled like cider. Hanging above the table was a banner: HAPPY DAYS, ENNA AND SHAIN, the banner read. Someone was getting married… or had just got married.
Standing behind the table, a broad young man in a white cotton shirt was staring at him, fear etched on his face. He was standing in front of an equally young woman. Trying to hide her, Ealian thought.
“Stand aside, Shain, you know the law,” Ealian heard himself say.
Shain took a step back, pushing the young woman back with him. “It’s not our law, Bar’deth, and neither is it yours. It has been two hundred years since a lord claimed Thraildom.”
Ealian-Bar’deth laughed. “Two years… two hundred… what difference does it make? I’m here to collect Enna. The old debt stands.”
There were three other people standing behind the table: a tall man, who by his face could be Shain’s father, and two girls, probably Enna’s sisters. The two girls seemed terrified, but the tall man stood defiantly at his son’s side, with a hand on the hilt of his sword. The other villagers had long gone.
Two men moved up from behind Ealian-Bar’deth. Both dressed in black cloaks. Ealian knew them, he realised. One pointed a crossbow at the tall man, while the other sent plates crashing to the ground with a swipe of his sword, and then jumped on the table.
Shain’s father moved to block the second man…
…but Enna rushed forward to block him. “No, Jurrin, please. It’s only a few months. I do not want anyone to die today.”
“If it is money that sent you on this errand,” Jurrin told Ealian-Bar’deth, “then name the fee. I will double it.”
Ealian-Bar’deth stepped forward and leaned, palms down, on the table. “Why does everybody think it is money that moves me? I like my job, Jurrin, and my master likes me. Best you listen to the young lady. Like she said, it’s only for a few months.”
Jurrin tapped the hilt of his sword as if he was contemplating using it. He glanced at Shain and then Enna. She had her hands together as though praying to Ein’laig.
“Very well,” Jurrin said. “But be sure your master honours the Thraildom, and nothing else.” He gave a look that said Ealian-Bar’deth knew what he meant by “nothing else.” Ealian thought he did.
Ealian-Bar’deth smiled. “I cannot speak to what his lordship will do. She is a pretty one; working in the kitchens may not suit her… talents.”
Ealian-Bar’deth turned from the table and walked towards their horse and cart. Tied to the runner was another horse. He mounted the animal. “Bring her,” he told the second man. “We’ve spent too long in these backwoo
ds; I feel the need for wine and amusement.”
Something told Ealian that Enna might be providing the amusement.
The world flickered…
A bell sounded in the distance. The echoing chimes surrounded Ealian until he could not tell from which direction the first sound had come. He spun around, looking, searching, but the view was the same as the last time he was here, the same as it had been every time he had returned to this place.
Where am I?
* * *
Elspeth woke, feeling as if she had barely slept for an hour. She sat up and looked around. Grady and Olam were just rising, as though all three had woken at the same instant. Elspeth gently kicked Gialyn’s ankle. He stirred, then immediately sat upright, most likely mindful of the last time she had tried to wake him up.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Gialyn asked. His eyes were half closed.
“Nothing,” Elspeth said, laughing. “Just wanted you awake.”
Gialyn stretched as he spoke, “Oh, thank you very much… I was having a dream… thought I was home… having a big chicken dinner.” He blinked and opened his eyes fully…
…and then looked over to the fire. “So where has Ealian got to now?”
“What!” Elspeth rolled up onto her knees and searched the camp. “Ealian…? Ealian…!” she shouted, and once again woke everybody. Daric was out of bed before she said another word.
“He’s gone again.” Elspeth was up on her feet, too.
Daric rubbed his eyes and turned back to his bedroll. “He’s behind you, girl.” He lay down and wrenched the blanket over his head.
Elspeth turned and saw Ealian standing behind her, his arms full with wood for the fire. She ran to him and flung her arms about his shoulders. “Don’t do that. Don’t go running off without telling me, you twolloc.” She felt like kicking him, but did not. She swore she would if he ever wandered off again. One frantic morning’s worrying was enough for this trip.
Ealian laughed. “I was collecting firewood, Sister, not running off. I woke up in this place—” he glanced around the clearing with a I-don’t-recognise-anything look on his face “—and saw the fire was nearly out.”
“‘This place’?” Elspeth said, making one eyebrow. “Don’t you remember coming here yesterday?” She put her hand to Ealian’s forehead. He was not as hot as he had been, but the clamminess was still there.
“Last thing I remember was that island with the rocks. After that…” Ealian shrugged.
He put the wood down and said a cheerful “Good morning” to Daric and Grady, who were just rising. Then he turned to say the same to Olam. He started to mouth the words, but then just nodded, as though seeing Olam was a surprise. He blinked and, for a moment, staggered as if about to fall.
“Are you well?” Elspeth asked. She grabbed his arm and held him up. “You should sit. You were very sick last night.”
“I’m fine, really. I – I just wanted to get some wood.”
“Well, Brother, wake me up in future, whatever the reason. Please?” Elspeth pulled Ealian’s forehead to her and gave him a quick kiss.
* * *
That was enough for Olam. He had had his doubts, but now he was sure. He needed to talk to Daric.
After breakfast, he slipped away into the woods, where he found a kneeling Daric filling up the waterskins in a fast-flowing stream.
“My friend, we have a problem,” Olam said.
“Tell me about it?” Daric said. “This stream is full of mud and gods know what. We’ll have to boil this water.” He eyed Olam over his shoulder. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it? Has Grady started telling stories again?”
“Has Grady…? No, no, nothing like that.” Olam drew in a long breath. How was he going to explain this? He cleared his throat, “Uh… you remember I was telling you about the good and evil of Ambieth, about the Black and the White? Well, I was telling Elspeth, not you. But… yes… never mind that. I was talking about the Dead Man’s Vein. Do you remember?” Olam bit his lip. What was he doing? Should he be telling Daric? What if he took the news badly… then what?
Now that he knew the truth, Olam was not sure how to help the boy – although he had a few ideas. But he did know one thing: whatever the answer, he would need Daric’s help.
Daric took in a deep breath and slowly shook his head. Pulling the waterskin out of the stream, he slapped the top back on and got to his feet. “Yes, Olam, I remember. And now you are going to tell me that you have the White in you. Am I right?” Daric put down the waterskin and gazed knowingly at Olam, waiting, it seemed, for an answer.
“How did you—”
“It’s hardly a mystery,” Daric interrupted. “First, there’s the tracking through the forest without slowing; then the exploding apple, or whatever that thing was. And then there is your knowledge of almost every blade of grass we came across – not to mention your strange affinity with certain… creatures. Finally, there is the real reason why only Arfael remembered you and none of those villagers. Am I getting close?”
“Daric, you are indeed a clever man. However, you need not fear me. The White is a blessing, not a curse.”
“I can see that,” Daric said. “I’m not a weak-minded man. If anything, I’m envious.”
Olam was surprised at the admission.
Daric continued: “Why do we have a problem?” He picked up the waterskins and began walking back to camp.
“Well, my friend, my… condition… is not what I wanted to discuss; although I am glad to hear your opinion on the matter. It is Ealian. I think he has the Black in him. I would not bet my life on it, but I have seen enough to be almost certain.” Olam put his hands to his heart. “The gods know I hope I am mistaken.”
Daric came to an abrupt halt and seemed to ponder Olam’s words for a long moment. “What can be done?” he asked, and then sighed heavily. “Gods, we should have looked in his eyes, too. We should have looked at everybody.”
Olam nodded his agreement. Then again, would knowing two days ago have made any difference? At least he was sure of the others; Ealian had been the only one acting strangely.
“What about those tree folk you spoke of?” Daric stepped back until he stood among the thicket, then eyed the path… doubtless to make sure no one was coming.
“You mean the Cren… the Crenach’dair? They may be able to help. But there is no finding them, not if they do not want finding.”
“They live in Crenach’coi,” Daric said. “We have to pass there. We walk along its northern border for maybe three days. Perhaps we can find a way to leave a message; or you and I could go looking for them.”
“We can try. But if we do find them, I fear if they discover Ealian has the Black they might just kill him.” Olam was mindful that none of his tidings were of any use. “I am sorry; I do not know everything on the matter, far from it. Let us hope I am wrong.”
“Is that likely?” Daric asked candidly.
“No. Not really.”
Daric gazed at the ground. He looked like a man with a hundred thoughts clouding his mind, but no answers. “For now, we say nothing. I can see no good reason to burden the boy, not until we are sure, or it becomes obvious, or, indeed, we have a plan to cure him. If they knew – the twins, I mean – they would insist on going home, and that would take us farther away from these Cren, and the end of any hope of treating him. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Olam said.
They said nothing as they walked back to camp. Olam knew what must have been going through Daric’s mind: Ealian was his responsibility, and although he did not ask for it, he would blame himself if something happened to the boy. Olam had only known Daric a few days, but he was sure he was a good man.
It was up to the Cren now, assuming they could find them. The boy’s life was in the hand of a people who had done all they could to avoid contact with the wider world. Could they find them in time to help the boy?
Probably not…
I should have checked the roc
ks. Of all people, I should have known better!
CHAPTER 15
Cover and Fire
They had been walking for two hours when Gialyn noticed the dark clouds rolling in from the west. The wind had changed, too: a strong north-westerly from the Speerlag, carrying a chill with it which, at first, was a refreshing change from the dusty heat of the previous four days. Now, that wind threatened to push those clouds in their direction.
“If you ask me,” Elspeth said, “we should go back to Am’ilean. At least there we had some cover.”
Daric – whom Gialyn thought may have had an argument with Olam, they were apparently avoiding each other – shook his head. “Two hours back–three hours forward, it makes little difference,”
“I thought Am’cherc was a full day’s march,” Grady said.
“A full day and more,” Daric told his friend. “But I wasn’t talking about Am’cherc. Olam said there is a good rest spot a few hours east.”
So, they were not arguing, Gialyn thought. They were making plans.
But why was his father giving Olam those questioning sideways glances he did so well? Something was going on between them. But what?
“Three or four,” Olam corrected Daric. “I have not come this way since the bridge at Am’firth was still in use.”
Daric shrugged. “Three hours… four… it’s still not worth turning back. Besides, those clouds could pass over.”
Gialyn looked over his shoulder. He did not think the clouds were going anywhere but east. If anything, they were thickening up.
Daric had been in a mood all morning, Gialyn noticed. His father had barely spoken a word since coming back from filling their waterskins, and for the past two hours he had marched out front, keeping his own company, setting a quick pace. Indeed, at the rate they were going, they may well make the camp in less than three hours.
“Be’aist doth mardidd,
Chost nort vaird.”
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