Randall laughed. “Of course it isn’t. What’s more exciting? Me fighting bog-wights with lightning at my fingertips, or spending weeks tied up in the back of some greedy bounty hunters’ cart?”
“Well, the bog-wights, of course,” Eamon snorted. “But something about that part bothers me. If Berry is supposed to be so smart, why did he leave you tied up in the first place?”
“You know, I never thought to ask,” Randall said, turning his attention to the donnan curled up on the grass, seemingly dozing after the meal. “Why did you leave me tied up back there?”
“No danger,” the donnan chittered without opening his eyes. “Following right path,” he continued, followed by a long string of words that Randall couldn’t follow.
Randall sighed in exasperation. “He says that I was going that way anyway. Sometimes I think he doesn’t think about things the same way we do. Anyway, if your feet are up to it, we should probably try to get another couple of hours’ worth of travel in before evening time.”
Eamon groaned. “I can probably walk a little bit longer, but I’m going to be sore tomorrow!”
“Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “It’ll probably take us three or four days to reach Shaderest at this pace. You’ll grow used to the walking the more you do it.”
Randall considered using the talisman he carried to help heal the worst of Eamon’s aches and pains, but quickly discarded the idea. Erliand had stressed that healing magic was a mystery owned solely by the elves, and that they would kill to keep that secret. Though Eamon was his traveling companion, Randall hardly knew the young man, and he didn’t really trust him yet. He’d learned his lesson about being too trusting when he was kidnapped by his last travelling companions—people he’d come to think of as friends.
Eamon interrupted his train of thought. “Do you really think we’ll see the elves once we get there?” he asked, a touch of excitement in his voice.
“I don’t see why not,” Randall answered. “The caravan that I ended up traveling with used to trade with them a couple of times a year. I don’t think they’ll be that hard to find.”
“Elves!” Eamon said, more to himself than to Randall. “Who’d have thought one day I’d be seeing elves!”
Randall smirked to himself, remembering a time when he was nothing but a country bumpkin. And if the truth were told, he would probably still be seen as such to a more sophisticated traveler. But Eamon clearly looked up to him as knowledgeable and worldly, and Randall basked in the adoration. In the not-so-distant past, nobody took Randall seriously, or considered what he had to say to be of any great importance. It was a welcome change.
* * *
It took nearly a week to reach the edge of Shaderest forest, moving at the slower pace that Eamon required. Along the way, the two young men shared stories of home, though Eamon was more interested in hearing tales about Randall’s adventures. The older boy was also more than happy to do his share of the camp chores, though he balked at most of Berry’s suggestions when it was his turn to tend the cook pot. By the time the forest was in sight, Eamon’s feet had toughened somewhat, and the pair of travelers had fallen into an easy camaraderie.
“We should probably make camp,” Randal called out, dropping his travel sack as the tree line came into view. “I want plenty of light to hunt for the trail, and if we start early, we’ll probably reach the forest by mid-morning. I’ll go hunt for something to add to the cook pot if you’ll get the camp ready,”
Eamon nodded his assent and began emptying Randall’s travel sack and preparing the camp site. Berry leapt off Randall’s shoulder and began dragging items from the bag around the camp. Randall felt a pang of jealousy; as often as not, Berry stayed behind at camp to play with Eamon and keep him company. Randall pushed the feeling away. It was easy to think of Berry as ‘his’, but he had come to see the donnan more as a friend than as a pet. It wouldn’t be right to try to tell his friend what he could or couldn’t do.
The two were playing peek-a-boo when Randall returned with a handful of wild onions. Berry was hiding in the travel sack, and Eamon would slowly reach toward it. At the last minute, before Eamon could grab the sack, Berry would pop out and make menacing faces, chittering in mock anger at the offending limb. Eamon snatched his hand back, laughing, before repeating the process.
“I’ve been wondering, why haven’t I heard about him in any of the stories?” Eamon asked as Randall approached. “I mean, when I first saw him, I knew who you had to be. Who else would be traveling with the likes of him? But none of the stories about you mention him at all.”
Watching Eamon and Berry playing had put Randall in a foul mood again, and he sat down heavily next to the cook pot to clean and cut his find. “Practically nobody knows about him. Most of the people who’ve seen him are dead,” he grumbled.
“Oh,” Eamon said, pulling his hand away from the travel sack timidly.
“It’s not like that,” Randall hastened to add when he realized that his statement had come out much worse than he had intended. “He used to stay hidden a lot. About the only time he ever showed himself was when we were alone or if I had to fight.”
“Surely you didn’t keep him in the travel sack the entire time. How awful!” Eamon exclaimed.
“No, no. Not at all,” Randall said, chuckling. “He has a…trick. Berry, come on out of there and show Eamon how you hide.”
Berry crawled out of the travel sack, and stood looking at the two young men. And then in an instant, he was gone! Randall felt the familiar pulse of power as Berry performed the trick. It was the first time Berry had really used any magic at all since Randall had burned himself out, and he was happy to note that at least he could enjoy the familiar feeling of magic being used without discomfort.
“Wow!” Eamon cried. “That’s amazing! Can you do that? Can you make us all disappear?”
Randall chuckled. He remembered the excitement he felt the first time he had seen real magic at work. He felt so familiar with it now, that it hardly seemed like only a few short years ago.
“I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “I don’t know how he does it. He doesn’t cast any spells or anything to make it happen. I think it’s just something his kind can do. I think different fae must have different abilities. When I fought Aiden, he summoned these dog creatures that were able to track me through Llandra, and I don’t think Berry can do that.”
“Llandra?” Eamon asked, distracted by the unfamiliar word.
“It’s complicated,” Randall answered, not wanting to get into a long lecture. “Basically, it’s the place where all magic comes from.”
Eamon knitted his brows while trying to make sense of this new information. Eventually, he shrugged and started patting the grass, looking for Berry.
“Where’d he go, anyway? Is he still here?” he asked.
“Yup. You just can’t see him. If you look just right—“, Randall started before being interrupted by a loud hiss.
Berry re-appeared in mid-leap, hissing and chittering, flying directly at Eamon’s chest. Eamon shrieked in fear, falling backwards as Berry landed on his chest and started poking and prodding him in the ribs. The cries of fear soon gave way to laughter.
“You scared the devil out of me, Berry!” he cried between fits of laughter. He looked over at Randall, “He really is amazing!”
“Yeah,” Randall said quietly. “Isn’t he?” He picked up an onion, and began dicing it for the stew as his two traveling companions continued to play in the grass.
Chapter 3
Shaderest Forest was aptly named. A light fog still clung near the ground in the chilly morning air and very little sunlight filtered down through the tall, broad-leaved oak and maple trees, imparting a shadowed and otherworldly feel to the forest floor.
Once they reached the forest, it took the better part of the morning to find the scant trail that Randall had happened to luck upon his first time in the forest. It was Eamon that stumbled across the rut marks in the forest f
loor, mostly obscured by decaying leaves, branches and other forest detritus. But the signs were clear: a cart had come this way.
Randall’s heart quickened at the discovery. He was both nervous and excited at the prospect of really meeting real, flesh-and-blood elves. Suddenly, he had second thoughts about going further. All the Mages he had spoken to had warned him to stay away from elves and other fae—that they were dangerous and not to be trusted. Even Berry hadn’t wanted to come out here. But Brody, Declan and Tobsen had traded with them several times a year, and they couldn’t even use magic.
If Eamon was nervous, it didn’t show. Though following the scant trail was slow and difficult, the young man carried out the task with enthusiasm. He whistled cheerfully to himself as he scouted the forest floor ahead, looking for more signs of wheel tracks. Randall tried to shake off his sense of foreboding, and followed behind.
As the group picked their way through the forest, Randall tried to picture in his mind what elves might look like. He tried to remember all the stories his grandmother had told him as a child, about how some elven noble had fallen in love with a mortal girl, or how some farmer had traveled too deeply into the elven lands and was never heard of again. But for all of her tales, Randall couldn’t remember her actually describing what an elf looked like.
They have to be beautiful, he reasoned. All of her tales talk about people falling in love with elves, or becoming so enamored living among them that they never want to leave. And I imagine they have to be at least roughly the same size as us. How else would we be able to interbreed? That last thought brought a blush to his cheeks and he quickly pushed it away. Then a thought struck him: Berry might know what they look like.
“Hey, Berry! Do you know what elves look like?” Randall asked, looking around him for the donnan. “Berry?”
Eamon stopped, and looked back at Randall. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Randall answered. “I was just going to ask Berry a question. Is he up there with you?”
“I thought he was with you,” Eamon replied, looking around nervously before calling out for their diminutive traveling companion.
Both boys spent several long minutes backtracking and calling Berry’s name. Eamon became more frantic with each passing minute until Randall put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Maybe he just wandered off,” Randall guessed. “He does that from time to time. He’ll show back up whenever the mood strikes him. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“If you say so,” Eamon said, unconvinced. “I still think we should keep looking for him.”
“Trust me, Berry can take care of himself,” Randall chuckled. “I once didn’t see him for months. He’ll turn up eventually. He’s not a pet. He can come and go as he pleases.”
Eamon nodded doubtfully, and returned to the trail, but that last statement had reminded Randall that he once thought that Berry might be an elf lord’s escaped pet. If that were the case, the two young men might not see their small friend until well after they left elven territory. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to visit the elves in the first place.
By mid-afternoon, even Eamon’s enthusiasm seemed to be waning. He had stopped whistling shortly after Berry turned up missing, and the two young men had trudged along in relative silence over the last few hours. Eventually Eamon stopped walking altogether, scanning the forest floor with a concerned scowl.
“What’s the matter?” Randall asked as he approached his companion.
“I’ve lost the trail,” Eamon replied gloomily. “Probably five or ten minutes ago. I thought if we kept walking, I’d pick it back up again.”
“That’s all right,” Randall replied. “It’s a poor trail. It was bound to happen eventually. Let’s backtrack until we find it, and we can camp for the night. It’s going to be getting dark soon anyway. We can start fresh in the morning, and I can have a turn scouting ahead.”
“I can do it!” Eamon replied heatedly. “I’ve gotten us this far, haven’t I? I’m not going to get us lost!”
“Whoa, just a minute,” Randall hastily interjected. “I’m not saying you’re doing a bad job. I just thought you might want a break from scouting. If you want to keep the lead, that’s all right with me.”
“Sorry,” Eamon replied, somewhat mollified. “It’s just this forest. It’s like it seeps into your skin and drags your mood down. I would’ve thought the elves lived some place bright and cheerful. But this place is just so gloomy! Why would anyone want to live here?”
“I dunno,” Randall said. He’d been thinking much the same thing. “Maybe they like their privacy.”
“Indeed we do,” spoke a thickly accented voice from just behind the two travelers. “And you’re trespassing.”
Eamon and Randall spun quickly to face the speaker. She appeared to be a young girl just blossoming into womanhood, perhaps only twelve or thirteen years old. Even though she was a full head shorter than him, she wore the leather breeches and jerkin of a woodsman, and there was a sharp-looking short sword filling her fist, pointed directly at the two young men. Her stringy brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her face and clothes were smudged and dirty, as if she’d been out in the forest as long as they had. As they stared at each other, two young boys came out of hiding, even younger looking than the girl. Randall guessed that they were perhaps eleven years old at most. But each also carried a sword, and they handled them with the easy manner that only comes from long practice.
“Elves!” Eamon breathed, a long smile spreading across his features. “They’re so beautiful!”
Randall crinkled his nose and looked sideways at his friend. Eamon’s expression carried a dreamy quality, as if perhaps he had drunk one too many cups of ale. Shaking his head in confusion he turned back to face the trio of youngsters. There wasn’t anything special about them. They were only children. It was only when he locked gazes with the girl that he noticed that there was something different about them, after all.
Their eyes, he thought. They’re like cat’s eyes!
The girl’s eyes were a deep and vivid amber, with slit pupils. He found himself lost in her gaze, unable to look away. As he stared, he noted that she wasn’t really a child after all. Her lips were fuller and her hips rounder than any child’s. What he’d mistaken for dirt earlier were merely shadows from her high, delicate cheekbones. She wasn’t really as short as he’d first imagined, either. That must have been a trick of the light, because he could see now that she was easily as tall as he was. She was...beautiful.
He could feel a slow smile creeping up his lips as the two young boys approached. And then, in an instant, the feeling was lost. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked back at the girl, and his mouth gaped open. She was just a child after all! Magic! Randall thought. Master Erliand had warned me that the elves could weave magic without even needing to speak a word.
That was when he noticed the approaching boys. Their expressions spoke of ill-intent, and Randall instinctively dropped into a defensive posture, his hand falling to the hilt of his dagger.
At his sudden movement, the girl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She called a word out in a melodious tongue, and the two boys stopped their advance. Sniffing the air carefully, her eyes widened and she once again addressed the pair of travelers.
“Well, half-breed. I guess you get to live to see another sunrise. The chief is going to want to talk to you. Come along.”
She turned on her heel and began walking deeper into the forest. The two young boys with her fell in behind Randall and Eamon, motioning for them to follow. Eamon needed no prodding. His face was still filled with a stupid smile, and it was clear that he was well trapped by whatever magic the girl had tried to weave over them both.
Confused, Randall followed. He could probably have taken them all in a fight, he reasoned. They were children, about the same age as his younger brother Joshua, back home. But he had come this far to see the elves, and he wanted to see it through. But
if these were indeed elves, they were nothing like what he expected.
And why did she call me half-breed?
* * *
The group traveled without stopping well into the night. Randall attempted to make conversation with the girl several times, but each attempt was met with a sharp sword point prodding his back, to encourage him to keep walking. Grumbling, he resigned to keep to himself until the group reached their destination, wherever that might be.
Once darkness fell, the two boys brought out small globes from the pouches at their sides, which glowed brightly enough to allow travel. Randall recognized the globes as a smaller version of the same elf light that Shawncy had carried when he had come to warn Randall about Aiden’s attack. But even with their smaller size, they seemed to work much better than Shawncy’s had, lighting up the forest for dozens of yards.
Eamon was well and truly caught in the girl’s magic; he kept up the grueling pace happily and without complaint, the same dreamy smile playing across his features. Aided by his healing talisman, Randall could have walked all night, and the artifact seemed to be doing a good job of staving off exhaustion as well. But he knew that the trek had to be murder on Eamon’s feet. The thought gave him an idea.
“Look, poke me with your swords all you want, but I have to stop for a rest,” he complained.
The girl held up her hand to forestall the boys from prodding him further, and Randall took the opportunity to speak further.
“I don’t know what you did to my friend, but we both can’t keep walking like this. It will kill us with exhaustion,” he pleaded. “Let’s camp for the night, and we can start up again in the morning.”
The girl seemed to weigh Randall’s words carefully before nodding and shrugging her pack off her back. She spoke a few words to her companions, and they immediately began setting up a campsite. For as young as they looked, the two boys worked with experienced precision. Randall smiled to himself as they worked. Perhaps now he would have the opportunity to talk with the girl and get some answers. She was clearly the leader of the expedition.
Magic Astray (The Llandra Saga) Page 3