Captive

by Lori Holmes

  “Yes.” Her reply was cold, clipped. So… the other girl had survived her terrible fall but lost the baby. He could not help but feel responsible for yet another pain he had caused her. She drew a steadying breath. “I have been bound by my teacher to take over her care because she cannot yet be left alone, she is grieving too deeply.”

  “Your teacher?”

  “Yes. In the art of healing. Baarias-”

  The flashes of colour and emotion went off inside him. Over the days, he had grown numb to her use of the name Juaan, so much so that his heart barely reacted anymore. This new name was fresh. Raw. It felt familiar in more ways than one; it shivered darkly through him. “Baarias? That is his name?”

  A strange emotion crossed her face at his reaction. She looked hurt, though he could not fathom why. “Yes,” she answered. “What of it?”

  He tried to push away the feelings of anger and resentment the name evoked. There was something else, too. It nagged at his mind. He had heard that name before. “He must be a skillful master,” he muttered.

  “Yes, he is.” There was a reverent note of respect in her voice. He could feel her eyes on him but did not look up. “I promise I will come back. Wait for me.”

  Baarias. The name shivered through him again, a shadow on his soul, indistinct, insubstantial, impossible to grasp. For once, he barely noticed when she left.

  12

  Beliefs

  Khalvir slept restlessly. The rock at his back was relentless, as was the constant noise from the forest. He could not close it out, no matter how hard he tried. Once again, he longed for the stark solitude of the plains. He wondered how much longer it was until dawn. Too long. The silver circle in the sky was high overhead. He could just make out the cold light, flickering and filtering down through the canopy to steal through the gaps in the pit’s cover above.

  Would she come? She had said things were about to become ‘complicated’ and that she did not know when she would be able to return. The prospect of having nothing to break up the tedium, of not seeing her, for any length of time soured his outlook considerably.

  Khalvir sank deeper into his furs and tried to find rest. He hadn’t realised he had actually fallen asleep until the sound of her voice roused him. “Juaan,” she called softly. “Juaan?”

  He could see her small form turning uncertainly a few strides from him. It didn’t appear that she could see him. He really wished she would stop calling him that. “Khalvir,” he corrected, rising quietly to his feet.

  She froze, her whole body locking down. He saw her fists clench and heard her breathing quicken. Was she afraid? He put a hand out and touched her shoulder. She flinched violently. He was stung that she would be so afraid of him.

  “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Don’t be alarmed, elf. I promised I would not hurt you.” He lifted his hand away from her shoulder and held both up in the air, displaying he meant no harm.

  She breathed again. “Nyri,” she reminded him.

  “Khalvir, then.” He moved away from her to sit back against the rock wall. She followed him, blindly it seemed, for she trod on him. “That was my foot.”

  “Well,” she danced backwards. A stone clattered in the dark. “Ow! Don’t clothe yourself in damned black, then.”

  He laughed softly at her annoyance. “I don’t have much choice, really. It’s either that or go naked down here.”

  He could almost feel the heat rise on her skin and gated another laugh at her embarrassment. Her next words distracted him, however. “If you were Ninkuraaja, I’d know exactly where every part of you was without having to see you.”

  “Truly? You cannot sense me, then?”

  “Well, I can to a certain degree, but not exactly.” She sat down within an arm’s length of him. His skin prickled at her nearness. He felt the urge to reach out and touch her and he struggled to stay focused on her words. “It’s like a part of you… an energy… for want of a better word, is not there or lies dormant, if you see what I mean.”

  “Not really,” he lied. She could not know.

  She sighed. “It is hard to explain. How do you describe seeing to a blind man?”

  “How indeed.” He turned his head to study her, wishing he could see her beautiful face more clearly, the spark in her indigo eyes. She seemed to sense his gaze on her and looked in his direction. Her hand came out, holding forth his ration for the day. It was the middle of the night but he was still hungry. He took the offering and bit into it. A familiar, bitter tang filling his mouth.

  “Not this again,” he complained.

  “Eat and be grateful.”

  He grumbled but said nothing. There was still an underlying pain in her voice whenever the subject of food arose. He didn’t want to make things harder for her than they already were; he knew there was much she wasn’t telling him.

  A chirruping whistle cut through the air. Khalvir froze. They were closer tonight. Closer than ever before.

  Her head came up. “What is that?” she wondered softly. “I have never heard such a bird before.”

  Khalvir shrugged and kept his face impassive. He could not let her leave him while his men were in the forest. They were so close she could run into them on her way back to her people. He closed his eyes.

  “So, what have you been up to today?”

  Really? He guessed the question was driven by a need to break the lengthening silence rather than out of any real interest in what he might have been up to, trapped at the bottom of a featureless hole. “Not climbing if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She snorted. “I’m always worried. You’re just the latest on top of a great pile of concerns.”

  He was about to respond when a howl ripped through the air somewhere in the near distance. The sound of it made the hair on his neck stand on end. The dreaded sound was long and piercing. It was not his men this time. He knew what that sound meant. Khalvir leaped to his feet.

  “It’s only the wolves,” a soft voice whispered, unnaturally devoid of fear. “They are hunting.”

  “That’s what scares me,” he replied, tersely. At least he was grateful for one thing. If the wolves were on the prowl, his men would not stay in the area.

  But he was trapped here. A cold sweat started on his brow as he felt their nearness.

  “They do not hunt us,” she reassured. “The wolves, like every child of the Great Spirit in this forest, are our cousins and teachers. They do no harm.”

  His feeling of vulnerability made him suddenly irritable with her cool lack of concern. “Not to you, perhaps, with your elf magic,” he retorted. “But I have known those beasts to take the old and the very young and devour them if the strong are not watchful. They are one of our most bitter enemies and we will kill them in turn.”

  He thought he felt her shudder. He knew he’d struck another of her elf sensibilities when her voice grew hard. “The Woves are the unnatural creation of Ninsiku.” She bit back. “I’m not surprised KI sends his Children to kill them. All of Ninsiku’s creations are bloodthirsty abominations. They are not the people of Ninmah. They do not have the Gift. They do not hear.”

  His anger flared. “So all the bloody losses we have suffered are our own fault? Just for being who we are? Typical elf. Such creatures are monsters who cannot be reasoned with, only their savage hunger drives them. They cannot speak. They do not think!”

  “Of course they do!” she argued hotly, he could not mistake her passion burning just beneath the surface. “They speak with the voice and truth of the earth. How can you look at everything around you and say there is no thought behind it? The world is alive with the greatest of intelligence. We are blind to it unless we learn to use Ninmah’s Gift to us. The Woves are the ones who do not know how to speak. They are the monsters. Abominations on the earth and they have blinded you, too. You used to understand.”

  He had stopped listening, afraid of losing his temper any further. He was never going to make her understand. Not like this. Her preju
dices against his people were too strong. Monsters. His lips twisted bitterly. He had to change the subject.

  “Who is this KI?” he asked instead, he couldn’t quite keep the sullen tone from his voice. “And Ninmah and Ninsiku? More elven superstition?”

  Her shock at his words was so strong even he could feel it. “You do not know who Ninsiku is?” Her voice was sharp. “He is the very power that created the Woves.”

  More of her misconceptions. “Well if he did he’s kept very quiet about it.”

  She rose sharply to her feet and began to pace. She was agitated by his words.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You must know Ninsiku,” she hissed. “It is the Woves who give him his power. It is they who are providing him with the strength to overthrow Ninmah, to mindlessly wipe us out, and bring about the End of Days where eternal cold and darkness hold sway.”

  He sat, absorbing her words incredulously. So this was what the elves believed? This was what they saw? He turned this over in his mind. He supposed the ruthlessness of his chief had done nothing to remedy this opinion. Maybe here, now, he could make this girl see. They were not the monsters her people saw. “I have never heard of Ninsiku.” He informed her. “We do not do his bidding, nor do we worship him.”

  Her hands were shaking as she ran them through her dark hair. “Then why are we suffering?” she demanded. “It has only happened since the Woves arrived. If Ninsiku does not command them, why do they hunt us? Why do they come and take our young, as the wolves come for theirs, to devour in the night?”

  Khalvir could not prevent the laugh that barked from his throat. “‘Devour’ you? What a ridiculous notion. Is that what you believe?”

  “What else are we supposed to believe?” she shot back. “The Woves come, they burn our homes, they kill and kidnap. Flesh eaters! If they do not devour us, if Ninsiku does not send them, why do they come?”

  He studied his recently healed fingers. He could not believe they had not figured it out. “You truly do not know?” he asked softly.

  “What is there to know? All we know is that they come and kill us.”

  Khalvir sighed sadly and dropped his hand. She was very upset. He was obviously digging into her greatest pain. It was not her fault she believed what she did. “Please, sit,” he invited gently. “Talk to me. Who is KI? We know little of your superstitions.” He had to keep her talking, keep her with him until he was sure his people had left this part of the forest. He strained his ears, listening for any further signs.

  She was drawing deep breaths, attempting to regain her composure. She stared at him guarded, suspicious. “That’s a very long story,” she growled out, irritated.

  Khalvir snorted. Perfect. “It’s not like I’ve got anywhere to go thanks to you. What do you think I have to do between your little visits? At least give me something to think about.”

  She sighed rather impatiently. His words had truly upset her. She was debating whether or not she wanted to talk to him. He saw her glance up out of the pit and he grew afraid that she was about to leave. He couldn’t let her leave like this.

  “Is KI your guiding light?” he prompted. He wanted her to know he was not mocking her, he was genuinely interested now.

  “The KI is everything.” His tone seemed to have swayed her. She settled back down by his side and he felt again that odd sense of completeness; it felt so right to be near her. Her voice was hushed with reverence as she spoke. “He is the Great Spirit of the earth. He exists in the rocks and the earth beneath our feet. He lives in the trees that surround us. He moves as the wolf and the deer. He is Life itself.”

  “Ah,” Khalvir said thoughtfully. “And how do you know this? Do you see him?”

  “Feel him is probably a more apt description. Though… when I am still, with my eyes closed, I usually see him as a golden energy flowing through everything that exists. Everything is a part of the great river that flows through the earth.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “Does that include you and I?”

  She shook her head. “We are different. We are not the Great Spirit’s children. The Ninkuraaja are the people of Ninmah, the great Queen and Healer and She made the essence of the Great Spirit a part of us. She alone knew how to give her people Sight. Only by using Ninmah’s Gift are we able to glimpse the Great Spirit, to learn and look after his secrets. Ninmah made us for that purpose.”

  Khalvir raised his brows skeptically. He thought of the gods of old who had supposedly come from the sky to create man in all his forms, only to then abandon him. His people had long since turned their backs on them and their teachings. No one had ever seen one of these ‘gods’ or witnessed their power. He did not believe they had ever even existed. He did not mention this to her though, it would only upset her again. “Ninmah’s gift?” he prompted.

  She sighed and gathered herself. Khalvir could tell he was in for a long story. And she told it well. Her voice rolled out, weaving the story of Ninmah and the first of her people. She told of how they had been Gifted with a special power to hear the voice of the Great Spirit of the earth. She spoke so passionately, he could almost believe it, almost see it all. At times she sang and the sound was so beautiful it hurt his heart. She truly was a magical being.

  “Ninmah’s Gift is our higher thought,” she concluded, “a connection between mind and soul. Ninmah showed us how to reach out to the Children of the Great Spirit and His world by connecting with the essence of Him she used to create the Ninkuraaja soul.” She placed a hand over her heart. “We are blessed to be able to hear the Great Spirit’s song.”

  He stared at her, watching her face in the dimness. Again he was filled with the need to reach out and touch her, to quench this yearning deep in his soul. “You tell a good story,” he whispered softly. “It’s… nice… listening to your voice.” The admission was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  Their eyes locked, a flush crept up her cheeks and her fingers twitched as though she very much wanted to touch him, too. His heart beat faster as his desire burned, he was about to lean forward, to press his mouth to hers when she broke the connection and looked up, cocking her head. He leaned back quickly. What was he thinking?

  “Listen,” she said as more and more howls joined the voice of the night. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Can’t you hear Him?”

  “No,” he said, his voice sounded strained to his own ears. He rubbed his forehead, keeping his eyes away from hers, he felt dizzy. “You said we ‘Woves’ are Ninsiku’s creation? And you believe us to be evil.”

  “Yes they are.” Her reply came quick and certain. “Ninmah’s brethren created their own peoples but they were born Blind. They could not know the Great Spirit and so they were made powerful in other ways. Ninsiku was Ninmah’s mate and he grew full of jealousy and spite. He created the Woves with dark energies to oppose Ninmah’s people. They are nothing but evil spirits clothed in flesh.”

  Khalvir smiled sadly. “I suppose I can see why you would have come to believe that.” He looked her right in the eye. Surely after this time with him, she could see that such beliefs were flawed, surely she saw he wasn’t a monster. “And what do you think now?” He challenged quietly. “Do you still see me as an evil spirit clothed in flesh? I am one of your ‘Woves’. What do you think now?”

  “You are no Wove, Juaan.” She said stubbornly. “They took you and made you their servant. Your mother was a Ninkurra. Your father was…” she trailed off, frowning heavily.

  He turned away, stung. She was still wrapped up in the belief that he was someone else entirely. She did not see him. It was not him that she loved. When she eventually saw her mistake, she would leave him. The thought was not pleasant. “What became of Ninsiku and Ninmah?” he asked, finally.

  “Ninsiku came to destroy us and Ninmah fought him. The power of their battle would have destroyed the earth. Ninmah saw that the only way to make us safe was to leave with her erstwhile mate. She imprisoned him in the heavens and
exiled herself along with him to forever hold his dark power in balance. For time out of memory, they have continued to chase one another through the sky. Ninmah’s spirit appears as the Golden Mother by day until she has to give way to Ninsiku. The night is his.” She pointed warily to the silver crescent in the sky. “His eye watches us in the darkness, surrounded by the lights of the souls he has stolen. We are best to avoid him lest he see us and send his dark servants.”

  Khalvir rose and stepped into the cold light pouring through the gap in the pit’s coverings that she had made. He held his hands out, studying the light spilling across them. Nothing but harmless light. “This is your Ninsiku?”

  She had huddled into the corner, seemingly wanting to disappear into the rock’s embrace. “Yes,” she whispered. “He sees all. Ready to steal away the unwary.”

  Khalvir frowned. Elves feared the night’s spirit. He had never feared the night but her terror was obvious, he was scaring her by standing where he was. He shrugged and moved back into the shadows with her. “Best not to be caught in his stare then.” He sat. “I never realised what interesting beliefs you elves had.”

  “What beliefs do the Woves have?” she whispered. “What powers do they possess?”

  Khalvir considered his words for a long time, wondering if his words would upset her again. He was about to contradict everything she had ever been taught. He spoke carefully. “Our beliefs are not entirely dissimilar. We believe that our people were created by gods that came from the sky. Our people were created by Ea to serve him as yours were created by Ninhursag, his twin sister of the Sky. But unlike you, we don’t believe our creators left for our best interests.

  “In our legends, they left to live in the mountains where no man can tread and forsook all contact, aside from descending occasionally to kidnap women. We had grown tiresome to them. Yet still we continued to cling loyally to the wisdom they had taught us for many generations.