Ahead, Olam and Arfael were walking a good ten paces in front. Well, Arfael was walking; Olam was marching, trying to keep up with his friend. The big man had been in quite a huff since leaving the hollow. That’s what Grady had called it: ‘a huff.’ Ealian just thought Arfael was angry. He could not blame him; like him, Arfael did not want to go to Bren’alor. Of course, Arfael had a different reason for—
Daric stopped. Ealian walked into his back.
Daric, eyes squinting and face contorted, was watching Toban. The silver-grey wolf was fifty paces away, hackles raised and teeth bared, staring off to the northwest. Daric raised a hand to the wolf – to ask what he was glaring at, most likely – but before he could open his mouth to speak, they all heard howling coming from the tall grass.
Daric reflexively placed his hand on the hilt of his short sword. “Are they friends, Toban?”
“No. They are Wildlings; around twenty, maybe more. They sound hungry,” Toban answered. He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone as if twenty hungry wolves bearing down on them was no cause for alarm.
Daric sniffed loudly. “That’s all we need. Stone me, are we ever going to have any luck? Are they coming this way?”
Daric dropped his pack and began to string his bow. His friends, Grady and Cal, followed suit. Si’eth, who, unsurprisingly, no longer had his sword, pulled a cudgel from his pack – not a real cudgel, just a forearm-long length of oak.
“Yes, they’re three hundred paces off,” Toban said. “I think they are spreading out, preparing to attack.” The wolf growled.
Toban looked from the north to the east, ears pricked. “Something has forced them to leave their home. We must be careful; wolves looking for new hunting grounds are unpredictable.”
“Can you reach them, Olam?” Daric nodded towards the wolves while looking at the fair-haired Eurmacian.
Olam and Arfael had walked back to the group; both were now poised with staff in hand – Olam had a staff, Arfael had a big stick –squinting in the direction of the still-howling wolves.
“I can talk to any one of them,” Olam said. “But, unless my guess is wrong, to have any effect I would have to speak to the Alpha.” He looked to Toban to confirm his suspicion.
“He is right. If he reaches a soldier, the others will keep coming. He would need to calm the Alpha for all of them to stop.”
“Wonderful.” Daric rolled his eyes. “And I suppose they are circling us by now. Toban?”
“Yes, they are indeed.”
“All right then, if that is the way of it,” Daric said, pulling a dozen arrows out of his quiver. “Backs together, you lot. Drop the bows when th—”
Ealian felt a tugging sensation in the back of his mind. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself unable to control his movements. He was a passenger in his own body. He tried to speak, but his ears told him he was not making any sound.
Calm down, Ealian. This won’t take long. A voice said.
Ealian felt Daric’s hand on his elbow, but Alacin pulled them free.
“Leave it to me,” Ealian heard Alacin say. “I will deal with the wolves.”
Ealian watched through window-like eyes as Alacin ran through the long grass towards the wolves. He tried to shout, “Stop, what are you doing?” but Alacin did not answer.
From behind, he heard Daric shout, “Where the bloody hell are you going, boy? Come back here.”
Ealian’s stomach – if it was his stomach – groaned as Alacin looked over his shoulder at Daric. “Not Ealian, Mr. Re’adh, Alacin’tien.” Ealian… uh… Alacin pointed at Daric’s bow. “Please lower your weapons. I do not want one of you shooting Ealian by mistake.”
Daric lowered his bow. He glanced at Grady and the others, then shrugged and raised his hand in a what-the-bloody-hell-is-going-on gesture. Ealian could not help but agree with the sentiment – what did Alacin think he was doing?
Gods, have you gone mad? Stop running towards the wolves! Ealian shouted inside his mind.
Once again, Alacin did not answer.
Thirty paces or so later, Alacin stopped dead amid the waist-high grass. Ealian felt Alacin raise his arms, then slowly turn in a circle with his hands outstretched. He turned three times, then stood still.
Alacin had flattened a small circle of grass. Ealian could see a snout poking through where the stalks remained undisturbed. The wolf took a step forward and curled its lip, showing a full set of formidable teeth. Ealian was sure the animal was about to jump on him, but instead, the wolf sat down. Two more joined the first, and Ealian could see a least half a dozen others circling Alacin’s man-made clearing.
Alacin closed his eyes – Ealian’s eyes – and for a moment, Ealian thought he could see a silver curtain stretched out in front of him. The curtain vanished. Ealian braced himself, expecting to feel a wolf’s teeth bite into him at any moment. But nothing. He remained in darkness for what felt like an age.
Suddenly, Ealian realised he was back in control of his body. Opening his eyes, he saw the wolves running north towards a mid-sized copse of birch and elm. He knew the rest of the wolf pack was hiding among those trees, but did not know how he knew. Ealian turned and slowly walked back to the road, stealing glances over his shoulder, making sure none of the wolves were following him.
“Argh… If he ever does that again…” Ealian grumbled.
Daric and the others looked at each other. “Is that you, Ealian? What happened t—”
“Gone! Back to sleep, I hope.” Ealian tapped the back of his head, then paused to listen. “Gods, a bit of warning wouldn’t have gone amiss. One minute I’m walking along, minding my own business; the next, I am surrounded by wolves.”
“Don’t you remember anything?” Daric asked, at the same time as Olam said, “What did you hear?” Cal muttered something about sleeping. Grady snorted loudly.
“I could see everything, up to a point, then nothing,” Ealian said. “I had no control. I thought I saw shadows and lights. I swear, Cren leader or not, if he tries anything like that again I’m going straight home.”
“But what about the Voice?” Olam asked. Then Grady said, “What did he say to the wolves?”
“Enough!” Ealian raised his hands. “Wait, he’s talking to me.”
I’m sorry, Ealian. I’m sure that must have been a shock, but I had to act quickly.
“Oh, he is sorry,” Ealian said. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
The fear you felt over the wolves woke me up prematurely. There was no time to prepare you properly. Believe me, it was not my intention to frighten you. And you don’t have to speak out loud; I can hear your thoughts if they’re directed at me.
“Gods, he can hear my thoughts.” Ealian laughed, but only because shouting at something in his own head would have looked stupid.
They had to be a way to get rid of Alacin – some ritual or ceremony. Or maybe a way to stop the Cren taking over his body whenever he felt like it. He would have to ask Cal if he knew of anything. Not that he thought the Cren would help; Cal believed Alacin’tien was some kind of gift, and Ealian should be honoured to carry such an “important Raic.”
You listen to me Alacin, Ealian thought. I’m only going to say… uh… think this once. Do-not-do-that-again!
Ealian waited for a reply.
“Hello…?” Hello, are you there? “Wonderful, he’s gone back to sleep.”
“Can’t you wake him up?” Olam asked, and far too eagerly for Ealian’s liking.
“Wake him up? Why would I?”
Ealian walked onto the road and turned north. Do they think I am a minstrel, here for their amusement?
Olam stumbling, trying to catch up. “We need to know what has happened with the wolves. Are they still a threat?”
Daric nodded in agreement. “What did he do? Are the wolves gone?”
“No… Yes… Argh… I told you; all I could do was watch. And I couldn’t even do that, most of the time. I have no idea what he said to the wolves, or how he managed t
o send them away. He did say there wasn’t time to prepare me. Maybe I will remember in future. When things are…” Ealian huffed. He pulled in a sharp breath, then, “I was going to say, ‘When things are back to normal.’ Gods, how can anything be normal again?”
Olam began to speak, but Daric interrupted him. “That’s enough for now. Let’s get to the horses. At this rate it’ll be dark before we’re there.”
Olam nodded, and Cal agreed. Grady snorted again. Arfael… Arfael looked worried.
What does he have to worry about? Ealian thought. That big oaf has no need to fear a few wolves.
Toban looked as calm as ever. And the Salrian was silent, apart from the odd disgruntled mutter. They were getting used to Si’eth’s disgruntled mutterings.
Ealian let the others overtake him, then settled once more at the back of the precession. Cal joined him but, thankfully, stayed quiet.
I wonder how long that will last, Ealian thought.
* * *
Three hours later Daric caught sight of the Cren Woodsmen. Kirin’thar, the Cren leader, had been true to his word; the Woodsmen were waiting by the northern crossroad to Cul’taris and Be’olyn. At least something had gone right today.
The Cren had brought horses with them; half a dozen Roan Geldings and as many Kalidhain Tall Horses – one of the Tall Horses was doubtless meant for Arfael. Their heads were half a span higher than the Roans’. Daric had seen their breed before, usually on a farm, but these were sleeker, taller versions of those plough-pullers; they looked more like well-bred warhorses. Daric would not mind one for himself, although he’d need a stepladder to climb on the thing.
Daric was surprised to see Mateaf among those Cren waiting at the crossroads. The man must have ran back to Brae’vis, then immediately jumped on a horse and ridden here. Kirin’thar had likely sent him; maybe he had a message for Ealian from the Cren Council.
That thought made Daric wonder; what was the boy going to do now the time for choosing was at hand? Go back to the Cren as Alacin’tien, or continue as Ealian Tanner? Not an easy choice, by any means. Daric hoped he would stay; he could not image the young lad living with the Cren. Not that there was anything wrong with the Woodsmen, far from it, but sending the boy away seemed unfair, never mind allowing the Raic to take over his life. Daric tried to think what he might do in Ealian’s place and realised he would likely be angry. Yes, the White Raic they had given Ealian had saved the boy’s life, but did that give this Alacin the right to take over?
The other three Cren sat around a campfire. They nodded at the travellers and proffered tea and cooked meats. Daric nodded back and gladly took up their offer of tea.
“Have you been waiting long?” Daric asked. It was a mundane question for such an important meeting, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Gods, but they’re big, Daric thought, as he eyed seven-foot longbows leaning against a tree behind where the Cren were sitting. They’d be good folk to know in a fix.
“We’ve been here since last night,” one of the Cren said. “You made good time.” The big man gestured for Daric to sit with them.
Daric blinked. “Did we? I thought we were running behind,” he said while sitting cross-legged in a space by the fire.
“We were expecting you in the morning. We know you Surabhan walk slowly.” The Cren’s tone was in no way sarcastic. “You are the one they call Daric, yes?”
“I am.” Daric nodded. He was strangely flattered that the man knew his name.
“I am Caylib; this is Eamon and Karsha.”
The four exchanged nods and bows.
Caylib took a sip of tea and regarded Daric over the rim of his cup. “Do you intend to go all the way to Bailryn on your own?” he said. “The map is destroyed; you have no proof of this invasion.”
Daric scratched his chin. ‘The map is destroyed’? Of course, they don’t know Bre’ach has stolen the scroll. Stone me if this isn’t a pickle. Best wait for Cal to get here.
“We have to go,” Daric answered Caylib’s first question. “The palace must be warned; preparations must be made.”
“And if they don’t listen to your warning?”
Daric stared into the Cren’s eyes. “I will make them listen.”
This was not looking good. He had heard some of the Cren were sceptical, even dismissive of the threat. Others wanted to keep Crenach’coi out of the witch’s business, regardless of the truth. Was this how it was to be? Would the palace prove any easier to convince?
Caylib smiled, turned at the waist, and grabbed his pack. He pulled out some scrolls, each one sealed with golden wax. “These are from the council. There was consensus, but only just – seven to six. I trust you will use them wisely.”
Daric reached out for the scrolls and cradled them in his open hands, careful not to crease any. “What do they say? What is in them?”
“They are all the same: the Crenach’dair’s Oath to join Aleras’moya in the fight against the invaders. I would save one for the king, were I you.”
Daric smiled. “Yes, I will indeed. Stone me, this is good news.” Damn; now I have to tell him we lost the map!
Caylib nodded. A wry grin creased his otherwise stern expression. “I believe Cal will travel to the palace with you. He will look after our interests. However, we are trusting you with the scrolls. You know how best to use them; they are your people, after all. You carry the Oath of Crenach’coi, Daric Re’adh. Don’t disappoint us.” The grin was gone; a cold stare took its place.
Daric forced himself to swallow. The scrolls in his hand suddenly seemed heavy. “I understand. You honour me with your faith in my judgement. I promise to use them wisely.”
Under the circumstances, Daric thought it best to explain what had happened to the map. He opened his mouth to speak, when the three Cren sat up and looked over his head. Daric twisted around. Ealian and Cal, who had lagged behind, talking to one another, were just now coming round the bend.
“Is that the boy…? Eyaleean?” Caylib asked. The name sounded strange on his lips.
“Yes, that’s him,” Daric answered slowly, eyeing the Cren. What were they going to do? Would they give Ealian the chance to choose for himself? “He is just a boy, Caylib.”
Caylib turned his grey-eyed gaze on Daric, an expression of confusion on his face. After a moment, he laughed. “Oh, yes. I understand. You think we are going to steal him from you, bring Alacin’tien back to Brae’vis. Don’t worry; those are not our orders. The boy, uh… Eyaleean… is free to choose his own path.” Caylib gathered himself and stood. The other two Cren followed suit. “You must understand, this is a very unusual turn of events, relevant to all Cren.”
“Of course, I understand,” Daric said. So, they’re leaving it all up to the boy. This will be interesting.
Caylib watched as Cal and Ealian approached. “Where are the others, Tanri and Pengar? Did they not come with you?”
“Tanri and Pen—Oh, you mean the other Cren, the two who treated Ealian.” Daric shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought they left for your village when we started north.”
Caylib looked down at Daric. For a moment, he seemed to consider some troubling thought. The puzzled look did not last long. “Yes, I expect they are home by now.”
Cal, his hand on Ealian’s shoulder, first nodded at Mateaf, who was busy with the horses, before walking over to the fire. “The forest protect you, friends.” He nodded a quick bow to the three Cren. They returned his welcome.
“What news from Kirin’thar?” Cal asked.
“Much the same as when you left, Cahldien; though the council are running around in circles at the news of Alacin’tien’s return.”
Cal grinned. “I don’t doubt it. Do we have orders?” he asked, giving Daric a quick glance.
“None concerning Alacin,” Caylib said. “We are to give our support, nothing more.”
Cal nodded slowly. “Interesting,” he muttered.
Daric could only guess what the
tall man was thinking. Maybe he was expecting orders to take Ealian back to Crenach, or even kill the boy. Kill the boy? Where did that come from? Gods, things are strange enough without you making it up.
Cal continued, “I’m sure the council know what they are doing. Still, it’s good that you are here. Has Daric told you about the map?”
Daric felt a hot flush redden his cheeks. He stared at his feet, feeling both small and guilty, like a misbehaving child surrounded by four adults.
Caylib answered Cal’s question, “No, we have heard nothing of it.”
“I was about to tell you,” Daric said. “But Cal turned up before… Never mind that. The map is gone, stolen by Si’eth’s boy, Bre’ach.”
Caylib’s brow creased. “Who is Si’eth?”
Daric pointed to the short, bald Salrian standing with Olam, admiring the horses.
“I don’t understand. Why is he free?” Caylib asked.
“It is a long story. He is on our side, now,” Daric said.
Even Cal sniffed at that comment, never mind that Daric had repeated explain how Si’eth fought against his own men to stop the map reaching the enemy.
None of that mattered, though; Daric was more concerned about who was going to track Bre’ach down and reclaim the scroll.
As if reading his mind, Cal said, “As I said, it is good you are here. We need you to find this Salrian before he reaches the Tunnels of Aldregair.”
“I see.” Caylib rubbed his chin while glancing over at Si’eth. He probably didn’t trust the Salrian, either. “And how much of a head start does this Brey Arc have?”
“Three leagues… five at the most. He’s only a few hours ahead of us.”
Caylib nodded slowly as he stared into the fire. Thinking. “We will go across country, see if we can pick up his trail, but it’s unlikely we’ll succeed. Besides, maybe it’s good that they have the map. At least we know where the Kel’madden will be.”
Daric coughed. Shaking his head, he said, “We don’t have the men, or the time, to cover the whole of Aldregair. From what I saw of the map, there are three possible routes through the tunnels. They’re near twenty leagues apart. Covering them all would stretch us too thin, even if we could gather an army.”
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