Elanraigh

by S. A. Hunter

  “My name is Thera, Dama.” Thera patted the hand which clasped and clung to hers. The old woman’s bones felt thin under the loose skin.

  “Lady Dysanna was my elder-aunt. I am the daughter of Lady Fideiya ep Chadwyn and Duke Leon ArNarone.”

  The Dama’s pale blue eyes examined Thera’s features. When she finally met Thera’s smiling eyes, her own gaze seemed more lucid. She disengaged her hand from Thera’s light hold, and moved it to touch Thera’s face. Then the elder shot a look at Dama Ella, “I remember Fideiya,” she stated, “a winsome, dutiful, girl she was. This be her child?”

  “Yes, Dama Byrtha, yes,” affirmed Ella. “Come now. Let me take you to your room for a nice rest.”

  Byrtha snatched her arm away from Ella’s grasp. “I’ve yet to say to the girl.”

  Dama Byrtha turned her shoulder on Ella’s long-suffering expression and leaned toward Thera, “I was Salvai Dysanna’s First Lady, a long time ago.” The old woman’s eyes were soft with tears again, “Elanraigh bless her sweet soul.” She grasped Thera’s hand and tugged Thera toward her, “Will you come and talk with me?”

  “Of course I will,” replied Thera in the same conspiratorial tone.

  The old woman sighed contentedly and patted Thera’s cheek. “They be always taking me off to my chamber, you know,” she said with a recriminating look around the table.

  As Dama Ella assisted the elder woman from the dining hall, Thera turned to the others. “Please do be seated, all.” Thera eyed the chair at the head of the table that sister Rozalda indicated for her.

  “It is your right by birth,” insisted Dama Ainise, “you are Lady Thera, daughter of Allenholme, and your lady mother is connected to the Royal House.” As Thera sat, the others resumed their places. Ainise beckoned to a slender, brown-eyed girl, who placed a bowl of hot tea and a small loaf and cheese in front of Thera.

  “Is that all there is for Lady Thera, Egrit?” demanded Dama Ainise of the girl.

  It was Rozalda who answered in her calm voice. “The cookhouse is as yet in disorder, Ainise, and we wish to give the injured some days of rest, then we may present meals more suitable.”

  “The injured—of course. Very well, then.” Ainise nodded and dismissed the brown-eyed girl with a wave of her gauze linen. Her fine brows arched inquiringly as she surveyed Thera. “I had laid out a gown for you, Lady. Suitable for a Salvai’s own. I thought it would please you to change from your…riding clothes.”

  Thera had just bitten heartily into the nutty loaf. Chewing and swallowing, she considered her response. She had no wish to offend her aunt Keiris’ former Lady companion.

  Thera answered straightly, “I dress to be useful here.” She wiped her fingers, and laid her hands flat upon the table. “I am not accustomed to being idle.” Her glance crossed Sirra Alaine’s, who regarded her with some inscrutable, half-smiling expression.

  “I am good with the horses, even our old Sirra at home has found no fault with the care I give them, and I am a fair fisher.” Thera did not miss the expression on Dama Ainise’s face. Feeling some rising annoyance, which soon dissolved into amusement, Thera observed that elegant Dama dabbing at her lips as if in distaste. By the One Tree! I’ll have all understand I am not a useless ornament.

  She eyed these folk of Elankeep, her folk, should the Elanraigh proclaim her. Thera’s gaze rested a moment on the brown-eyed girl, Egrit, who had brought her tea. The girl smiled shyly. Thera smiled back. “I cannot cook, however.” She glanced to Sirra Alaine. “I hope that Sirra Alaine might allow me to study more of weaponry. I do not intend to be a soldier, but I would like to be stronger, and more skilled.” She smiled to the gathering, “I hope that, except when necessary on High Days, we may dispense with formalities at table and hall. I intend to be a student here—yours and the Elanraigh’s. I know I can learn so much, from all of you.” An amazed expression still flexed Dama Ainise’s delicate brows. Mistress Rozalda nodded attentively. Thera hurried on. “When I was at Allenholme, it was my particular wish to learn many such things, you see. My father could see no harm in my learning more of the daily tasks of our folk. Indeed, he was proud of me for wanting to learn.” Thera’s chin lifted slightly.

  She saw the Sirra Alaine exchange a satisfied look with the Healing Mistress.

  Dama Ainise’s shapely fingernails tapped the table, “Really! Dear Lady Thera, you were a child then and it seems your father indulged you. Believe me, in the south, in Cythia, no gently reared young woman would …”

  Rozalda placed her large square hand on Ainise’s arm, who turned an annoyed frown on the Healing Mistress, but subsided.

  “Lady Thera,” said Rozalda, blandly ignoring Ainise’s annoyance, “we, here at Elankeep, will honor your desire for learning and appreciation of the life paths of others.”

  Mistress Rozalda’s homely face glowed as she leaned toward Thera. “The Sirra Alaine has related to us what she knows of your gifts, Lady. It seems to me, the Elanraigh has declared its intention. You are the Elanraigh’s choice to be Salvai.”

  “The Elanraigh knows what saplings grow in its shade,” intoned a small rosy Dama to Rozalda’s left.

  “Blessings be,” murmured the Damas.

  “Indeed,” replied Rozalda. She looked at Ainise, her hand lightly patting that lady’s arm, “and no one here will interfere with your chosen life path. Or the way you choose to serve, as Salvai of the forest.

  Thera relaxed a little. She turned to Dama Ainise, with a smile that had won even Shamic over to many favored projects of hers. “It is also true, Dama, that I have never been to the King’s court in Bole, or to Cythia. It would be good for me to learn what I must of courtly manners, so I may be a credit to my people of the northern holding.”

  Dama Ainise brightened immediately. Tipping her head, she observed, “You are a beautiful girl, my dear, and not in the ordinary way. And innately graceful, I have observed. It would be my pleasure to instruct you in courtly refinements becoming to a Lady.” Dama Ainise’s smile froze just a little as she glanced at Sirra Alaine, “When you are finished with your other pursuits, of course.”

  As they rose from the table, Thera turned toward the arched window. “Sirra Alaine. A moment, if you will.” The Sirra came to her side. “Do you have carrier birds here?” Thera asked wistfully.

  The Sirra shook her head slowly. “The birds’ roosting pen was destroyed in the Memteth attack. Most all the birds escaped…,” her glance crossed Rozalda’s who nodded confirmation, “…and will return when the stench of smoke abates.”

  “I must tell my father of the death of our folk at Shawl Bay. My mother may have sensed the Salvai Keiris’ passing. She will be distressed. They both need to know that I am safe here at Elankeep.”

  Thera’s fingers were white as she clenched her hands together. “Elanraigh bless,” she sent, “I need to know how fares Allenholme, and the folk there.””

  Sirra Alaine grunted a laugh at the others’ expressions when at that very moment a white carrier bird landed on the stone sill of the window, folded its wings, and stretched its iridescent neck toward Thera.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Lady Thera!”

  Thera glanced over her shoulder. It was Rozalda who called. Thera rose and quickly swiped her hands clean. She had been inspecting the trampled vegetable garden with Eryn and Rhul, hoping to find Mulberry a carrot treat. Word had come from the stable that her mare had been found. “Aye, Lady,” Eryn had confirmed, “found her, sweet as you please, sauntering by Bridal Veil Falls.”

  Rozalda, dressed for travel, waited at the keep’s main gate to speak with her. Thera picked her way through the rows of tubers. Her smile of greeting wavered as she saw swordswomen Lotta and Mieta exiting the gate with her aunt’s linen-wrapped body carried on the bough-woven bier between them. Lotta’s eyes looked bruised and weary, her expression
grim.

  Last night, at the sea cliff’s edge, the assembled women of Elankeep had gathered to sing the Lament. They sent their voices into the wind both for the Salvai, and for swordswoman Avra, Lotta’s closest companion, who had that day died of her wound.

  To Thera’s mild surprise, it was shy Egrit who stepped forward to lead them in song. She called out the ritual greeting, “Elanraigh bless. Beneath its boughs may they rest. May their voices sing to us on the wind.”

  The assembled women answered, “Blessings be.”

  That done, they waited as the sun set, their lit torches roaring in the wind. The Lament would be sung when the evening star rose in the west.

  Red clouds like wind-tossed plumes faded from the sky. In the deepening amethyst hue gleamed the first faint pulsing of the evening star. The winds lapsed and Thera felt a prickling of anticipation. Egrit lifted her voice. The girl sang the Lament in an ancient dialect, the notes rose like seabirds on the wind then descended, evoking the rich, dark depths of earth. The Elanraigh’s hymn vibrated along Thera’s bones. She felt forest-mind bending benevolent and close all that night.

  * * * *

  “Lady Thera!” Rozalda called again, startling Thera from her thoughts. The Healing Mistress smiled.

  Thera quickened her pace. She had already been told that the Salvai’s body was to be carried into the forest. The Healing Mistress was in charge of the small funeral procession. Rozalda was cloaked and booted for her journey. Thera looked after the small, solemn group that had passed, carrying the bier northward.

  “Where will you take her?” asked Thera.

  “The Elanraigh will guide us to her resting place.” Rozalda craned her neck, trying to adjust the harness of her travel pack. “I know only that Keiris’ place of meditation was a tree cave somewhere above the little falls.”

  Thera paused in the process of assisting the Healing Mistress in the settling of her pack harness.

  “A tree cave?” repeated Thera.

  “Yes.” Rozalda shot her a look from under her heavy brows, then turned her head to slip on the pack’s shoulder straps. “Every Salvai is guided to some special retreat in the forest, usually a tree cave. It is a place she can always go to when she feels the need to be alone. When the Salvai dies, the tree will take her in, and then will seal itself.”

  Thera stared.

  Rozalda studied her a moment, then lifted her gaze to the forest. “What greater comfort, I think, than to be laid to rest in the living forest’s heart.

  “Well. You are to be Salvai now. All here will serve you well.”

  Thera blushed, “Mistress, the Elanraigh has not yet proclaimed me Salvai.”

  Rozalda was still a moment, “Well. Even if it awaits the proclaiming, it has shown us clearly that you are its Anointed.” She glanced behind her, her expression thoughtful. “I do not like to leave you with Elankeep in disorder and wounded still under care, but all seems well on the way to being mended and I should not be more than two days away. Sirra Alaine will best assist you in all things. I would have you feel confident to trust her judgment.

  “Dama Ainise is the highest ranked of Keiris’ ladies, but she is not practical. I say this though I am fond of her, mind you. She has had many disappointments in her life.

  “Her brother, you know, managed to ruin the family estates. He survives by attaching himself to those in a more elevated a sphere of influence. He communicates gossip regularly to Ainise, some of which is useful, and we in turn relay it to your father.

  “Ah, I’ve surprised you,” she gave Thera a wry smile. “We do not spend all our days tending gardens and sheep. Our duty is to protect the Elanraigh, and knowledge of what goes on beyond the Elanraigh’s southern border is of importance in this task.”

  Thera laughed and shook her head.

  “Now,” continued Rozalda, “I see Egrit, in her own quiet way, has established herself as your attendant. Are you content with this?”

  Thera was still bemused at Rozalda’s picture of the Elankeep attendants winnowing through Bole and Cythian court gossip. No wonder there was such a very large flock of carrier birds kept here.

  “Oh yes.” She nodded in answer to Rozalda’s last question, her eyes dancing. Quiet and determined, Egrit had set about making herself indispensable. “Very much. Her ways suit me—she seems to anticipate all my wants as if that were her gift.”

  Rozalda pursed her lips in a small smile, and nodded her understanding. “She is a good girl,” the Healing Mistress added, “I’d thought to apprentice her to healing, but she is like to be an excellent maid to you. She was always such a shy girl, but she is a wildcat where your needs are concerned.

  “Hmm. Well.” She eyed the bearers who waited for her at the forest edge. “I’ll be on my way then.”

  Rozalda waved her walking staff over her head, “Blessings be,” she called out. Answering cries and waves came from those on the tower and in the gardens.

  Eryn and Rhul drifted up beside Thera, as did other Elankeep folk. They stood together, watching in silence as the small cortege entered the forest.

  * * * *

  Thera had just dropped her arm from its final wave, when Alba trotted over to her side.

  “My Lady, Salvai Thera. Could you join us in the south field? There is a difficulty.”

  Thera turned and walked at Alba’s quick pace past the keep’s east wall. Rhul and Eryn had silently fallen in behind them. Thera glanced sideways at Alba’s face. Her expression was stern and pensive, but not alarmed. As they crested the rolling ground of the south field, Thera could see a knot of guards from the keep standing at the forest edge. Past these trees would be Bridal Veil Falls. Thera looked in awe; the trees here were old giants.

  As they neared the others, Alba spoke rapidly. “We knew from what the Elanraigh told you, that there be Memteth dead in there. We meant to cleanse the forest of them,” she gestured to a pile of dead wood ringed with stone, “but I sense something amiss. I am not sure enough of my sensing, Lady, and we do not wish to offend by entering here if we be not wanted.”

  Thera knew immediately what it was Alba and the others had sensed. Old trees are slow to wrath, but the heaviness of the anger stirred against the Memteth still hung in the air. She directed her thoughts to the ancient trees.

  “Old Ones, if you will, we come to remove the bodies of those who offended you and yours. We will send their dust home on the sea across which they came.”

  “Child. We know you, and all who are our own. Seek what you wish.”

  The forest-mind voices were somber, but not forbidding. Thera met Alba’s enquiring gaze with a brief nod, and the small group fell in behind Thera and Alba as they passed into the darkness of the ancient grove. Once again Thera experienced a sensation as if a curtain had fallen behind her, shutting out all sound. The green-tinted gloom was unrelieved by sunlight; the ancient trees were so closely grown. Their coarse bark was hung with grey moss, resembling the beards of ancient patriarchs.

  There was heaviness to the air that Thera knew was not natural to the Elanraigh. She saw Alba wince and mutter an appeasement when her foot snapped a limb from an old deadfall. There was no sound of the waterfalls, but Thera felt the vibration in her feet and knew Alba angled that way. Then they found their first Memteth body.

  Or, what was left of it. It could be known only by the body armor. Of flesh there was nothing remaining but piles of chalk-like dust. Alba dropped to one knee, her hand hesitated, and then she pinched a small amount of the grey dust between her fingers. Alba’s face was pale in the dim light of the forest as she looked up at Thera.

  “No burning…” she whispered hoarsely, her brow furrowed, “…no matter how hot the fire, could reduce bone to this.” The fine dust floated from her fingers, coating the top of a small bulbous fungus.

  Thera held Alba’s
gaze, then turned to the others. “Quickly,” she whispered, “gather together Memteth gear that’s been left. The other bodies will be close by. We will not dally here or disturb the grove any further.”

  Nine Memteth dead were found the same as the first. The Elankeep women collected armor and weapons, all that the ancient grove had not taken into itself, and assembled the unwieldy gear into manageable loads.

  Thera was troubled. “Where would the Memteth ships be anchored?” she asked Alba.

  “They be smashed upon the rocks by now, like as not,” replied Alba. “Why, Lady?”

  “We could learn more about them.” Thera gestured to the dust under the trees. “Or find out where they come from, if they have maps as we do. I feel it could be important, Alba.”

  Alba shifted her shoulders, glancing around her. “The only way to the falls, be through this grove, Lady.”

  “Yes. You and I can carry on to the falls. It’s less intrusion on the grove that way. We will send the others back with this collection,” she gestured to the pile of armor and weapons. “Alba, we can be back at Elankeep by noon meal.” Thera smiled her brightest smile.

  Alba frowned and shook her head. She bent to pick up a Memteth spear and hefted it appraisingly. “Well…” she drawled finally, baring her teeth in something not a smile, “let us be seeing, then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The walk to the falls took longer than Thera or Alba had judged. At times, as they travelled past the ancient trees, Thera felt as if she were wading through knee-deep water, so oppressive was the mood of the grove. When they came out upon a rocky ledge above the falls, the roar of the plunging river burst upon their ears.

  Standing bathed in the sunlit spray from the falls, Thera was cheered and exhilarated. She smiled at Alba, who grinned in return and saluted lightly, spear tip to helm.