by Lori Holmes
Khalvir waited. The rain fell harder. He felt rivulets starting to run down the back of his neck. He longed for a shelter.
She was back before he had chance to grow concerned. She threw down a large armful of leaves and a springy type of moss. He touched it with his fingers as it landed at his feet; it was very soft, like the fur of a rabbit. She disappeared and reappeared several times until she was satisfied with the amount of bedding that she had brought. Khalvir scraped it all into a pile close to one of the walls. Unfortunately the overhang was only enough to prevent him from climbing out, it did nothing to block the rain.
“That should make things more comfortable for you,” she called down softly from above. “But I’m afraid I have nothing for you to shelter under.” She wiped a lock of dripping hair out of her face.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “But, you have all the materials you need,” he said. He couldn’t resist taunting her a little, enjoying that he could play on her fierce pride. “Do you elves know nothing?” She opened her mouth to retort but he waved a hand, dismissing her deliberately. “Find me some sturdy branches. I’ll show you.”
He did not let her see his amusement at the indignance in her eyes. Curiosity seemed to win her over, however, for she disappeared without further argument. She brought back a good selection of branches. This took a frustrating amount of time since she insisted on finding ones that had already fallen to the ground; she refused to take them from the trees. She looked as if he had asked her to take her own arm off when he suggested it.
When she had finally brought back enough material and was standing in the pit with him once more, Khalvir set to work. He was showing off just a little. There was no need for this shelter to be so intricate but he was feeling the need to impress her; something he had never felt the need to do for a woman before. He was very pleased with the result. The shelter was small but it was one of the best he had ever made.
He was rewarded by a look of reluctant amazement at his skill. She could not resist pointing out the obvious, however. “But there are still gaps in it. That’s clever but you are still going to get wet.” She sounded just a little smug.
“It’s not finished yet,” he growled defensively, wounded. “I need hide but I’m not going to get any of that around here, am I?” The elves didn’t eat meat, he highly doubted they knew how to cure skins; all they wore were leaves and they were no sort of protection from the elements.
“No! You will not.” Her answer confirmed his thoughts.
He chuckled once at the look of consternation on her face. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare ask.” He scrutinised her garments. At least they seemed to be handling the rain better than his. The water was sluicing right off the waterproof green leather rather than soaking in to it. An idea struck. “Do you have any more of those leaves?”
She caught his train of thought almost immediately. A smile spread slowly across her face. “Wait here.”
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes.
It took her longer this time. Khalvir paced impatiently until she returned with a pile of thick leaves as long and as broad as her arms. Perfect. “They’ll do.”
The problem remained, however, that he had nothing to attach them with. He draped one leaf experimentally over the wooden structure, but, large as it was, it was no deer skin. There wasn’t enough of it to hang successfully in place. The slippery material simply slid to the ground as soon as he let go. “Hmmm.”
There was a light touch on his arm. His skin prickled. He looked down and saw her eyes were filled with excitement.
“I think I can solve that problem.”
“How?”
“Don’t you Woves know anything?” She smiled as she threw his words back at him. “Watch and I’ll show you.”
Now it was his turn to be curious. He watched as her face grew blank with that now familiar expression of concentration. Moments later, a small, brightly coloured bird came and lighted onto her waiting hand. She looked at him intently and he stared back with beady black eyes. She was talking to him, Khalvir realised. And the bird understood. With a soft chirrup, he took off again.
“How are you doing that?” he tried to keep the wonder from his voice. He did not want to be impressed; elf magic had always been something to fear. From within and without. It prickled up his spine.
She smiled softly. “Ninmah’s Gift.” She said by way of explanation. “We are all family here. The Great Spirit binds us all. I told him what I needed and now he has gone to fetch it for me. Kyaati has a particular talent for birds.” Her voice grew heavy at the last.
“Kyaati is the girl you are caring for?” he guessed gently, reading the now familiar pain on her face. “The girl who lost her baby?”
She nodded, unable to speak it seemed.
“How-” He hesitated, unsure that she would want his concern. To her, it was his clan’s fault that her friend had been in the tree in the first place. “How is she recovering?”
“She isn’t.” Her voice was dead.
He was saved from a response by the return of the little bird. His eyes widened as the winged creature dropped a very large and rumpled spider onto the top of his wooden structure. It disappeared and then returned, twice, each time with another dark brown crawler.
The bird started to twitter around the girl. He landed on her shoulder and began pecking demandingly on her ear.
“Okay! Okay!” she cried softly, smiling, and held out a handful of plump seeds she had taken from her garments. The bird ate them quickly and then disappeared. Khalvir watched the amazing display before pulling his eyes away and shaking his head. “Elf magic,” he muttered to himself.
She was not finished with her miracles, however. Now she turned to the spiders her bird had fetched for her. Her face twisted with the most intense look of concentration he had seen yet. The spiders sprang to life. They scurried over the shelter, leaving behind thick, sticky trails of silk. As they worked so did she, placing her leaves ahead of the busy crawlers. The leaves were bound in place by the gleaming threads of silk, forming the desired skin over the skeleton of his shelter.
He marvelled at the sight.
At last she was finished. Her fine face relaxed and she sank to the ground, apparently too exhausted to stand.
Unable to keep the wonder from his face, Khalvir began to circle the structure they had just made together. He had to work to keep his voice low and casual. “The first ‘wove’-‘elf’ shelter ever made. It’s… not bad.” He looked sideways at her and allowed a smile to break onto his face. “Thank you.”
She beamed at him, dispelling the drawn, haunted look that always seemed to cling to her, lighting up his world. Unbidden they began to laugh. What a situation this was.
A blood-chilling snarl from above silenced them both. Nyri leaped to her feet, alarm flitting across her face. Khalvir spun around to face the threat. He knew what he was about to see. He had heard such challenges many times before. He raised his eyes to see the wolf’s head peering down into the pit. Its yellow eyes had fixed upon him. Another snarl ripped from the beast’s chest.
Fear rippled through him but his life as a warrior tempered it and he reached automatically for a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself. He knew it was a futile effort. Rocks would do no good here. His mind continued to search for a solution as the wolf leaped down into the pit and stalked forward. He gritted his teeth.
“Batai?” she whispered to the beast, alarm thick in her voice. “Batai, stop. He’s a friend.”
“I don’t think he’s seeing it that way,” Khalvir hissed between his teeth, taking on a defensive crouch as he backed slowly away from the advancing predator. There was no way he could defend himself but he would not go down without a fight.
“Batai! No!” She screamed as the wolf coiled and sprang.
He heard her frantic cry as if from a great distance. For a moment the world seemed to stop as Khalvir watched the wolf leap through the air, fangs aimed directly for his t
hroat. He knew he was about to die. There was nothing he could do about that. He was a warrior, he was taught to accept death when it came but, did it have to be now, here in this pit? With her watching?
Somehow in that fraction of a moment, he caught her eye. He saw the horror, the fear, the heartbreak on her face. She should not see him die. He knew instinctively in that moment that it would break her.
Fury blazed within his soul. He felt the power he always tried so hard to suppress explode from the centre of him, the strength of it terrifying as it tore loose. Not again! He fought to control himself as he screamed, “Down, wolf,” and threw out his hands preparing to block his enemy and protect his throat.
The blow of the heavy body never came. The wolf twisted in the air and landed in front of him. The creature looked as stunned as he did. The powerful energy that had blazed through him evaporated, leaving him feeling weak. His hands began to tremble.
There was silence. Nyri recovered first. She put her hands in the wolf’s fur as if to comfort it. Khalvir was distantly aware that something was passing between them and the wolf gave him one last look of contempt before it turned away with a huff and leaped up and out of the pit. There was a ringing starting somewhere in his ears. He felt faint.
“What was that?” Her voice was stunned.
He could not answer her. He coiled his fingers to stop them from shaking, turning to face the wall as he braced his arms against it. He drew in gulps of cold air. It had happened again. Fear shivered through him. It was lucky he had not- He screwed his eyes shut. He had yet again failed to control the monster inside. He could have killed her.
He listened through the buzz in his ears. Half expecting to hear her fleeing from him in terror. There was only silence. Then-
“Juaan.” Her voice was soft, gentle, comforting. “Juaan.”
He turned his head slightly from the wall to meet her eyes. Why wasn’t she frightened? One of her hands was extended. In the centre was a stone from one of the berries he had eaten. Her voice was still gentle as she continued. “Watch. Your abilities are nothing to be feared. I promise. I’ll show you.”
She focused her attention on the stone in her hand. Before his wavering eyes, the stone broke open and a tiny green shoot unfurled in the light, tasting its first kiss of the rain. It was beautiful. He could not help it, he moved away from the wall and came to stand before her. He bent his head over the stone. Such power, and she had used it to create life.
“How?” he whispered, hearing the tremor in his own voice.
Instead of answering, she reached out and caught his hand in her own, turning it palm up. She spilled the newborn plant onto his skin.
“Would you like me to teach you?” she breathed. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
Don’t have to be afraid? He felt a wave of longing. A longing of not having to fear the monster inside any more. Perhaps she could show him how to tame it. His hand trembled anew as his longing and his deeply ingrained instincts warred with one another. He looked into her deep, guileless eyes and the words were out of his mouth before he was even fully decided.
“Please, show me.”
15
Uncontrollable
The next time she appeared, her eyes held the sadness of death. Khalvir guessed that if it wasn’t for the darkness, he would see that the skin around her eyes was red and raw, like her voice. Something terrible had happened while she had been away. But she would not speak of it, her hurt was too private.
He was almost afraid to ask and when she refused the first time, he did not pry. Instead he distracted her. He wanted to learn how to control the beast inside him. She latched on to the opportunity to forget her troubles gratefully.
As the days passed, Khalvir almost wished he had refused her offer. All the training his spear master had put him through could not compare to the difficulty of what she was trying to teach him. He could feel the power within, but trying to control it was like trying to grasp water.
It was a great shadow, bodiless, dancing away from his touch. He lost his temper more than once but he found that it was only when he was angry that he was able to call it forth. The results of these instances were not what either of them had hoped for. His energy only seemed to have the power to destroy; he could not make a seedling grow. If she brought anything living for him to practice with, his raw power rushed forth to overwhelm and kill it. He was grateful that she had only ever brought him plants.
Though alarmed by his destructive ability, she remained supportive and patient. Often she would lay a hand on his arm and merge her will with his. It was only then he truly understood, almost saw everything she described. He could feel the world against his every sense.
Though he was not progressing as either of them had hoped, he was finding it easier to tap into his elven power when he wanted. By and by, he no longer had to rely on a surge of dark emotion to call it forth, though the ability to make a seed grow was still beyond him. A blackened pile of his failed attempts littered the ground of the pit. Nevertheless, a sense of peace he had never thought to find fell over him in those days, certainly not while being held captive in the bottom of a hole in the company of an elven woman. Nyriaana.
She stirred his very soul. He felt he could live out his whole life in this hole if he could just be with her. While she was with him, everything else melted away.
When she was gone, it was a different story. Despite his new comfortable shelter, Khalvir did not sleep. His men had still not returned and their absence worried him more than their calls. He had no idea where they might be. He worried they had given up their search and were instead hunting; hunting for the elves. They would not go back to their chief empty handed. He did not sleep.
He was restlessly preparing to face down another long, sleepless day when the leaves above drew back with a soft rustle and there she was.
He could not let her see the pleasure her presence brought him. “A day time visit,” he said offhandedly, “I am honoured.”
“You should be.” She replied in the same tone. “I’m a busy elf.”
He hid his smile, then he took in her appearance. She was far worse than the last time he had seen her in the light. Fear for her twisted in his chest. “You look exhausted. You should take time to rest. You are not getting enough.”
She rubbed her eyes, a sharp frown indicating that his words were not welcome. “I wonder whose fault that is?” she snapped.
He ignored her flare of temper. “Yours. I’m not keeping myself down here, you know.”
She growled wordlessly and thrust out the food she had brought as she sat. He smiled, knowing he had won this time and ate hungrily.
He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye as he always did. Her eyes had fallen closed, her head leaning wearily back against the stone wall. She couldn’t have been comfortable but the relief was evident on her face. He was glad she was finally resting. Lessons could wait today. But as he looked more closely he could see the peace was tortured. The frown remained fixed between her brows, the skin around her eyes was tight and marked by layers of dried tears. She appeared to be listening to something and did not like what she heard.
He moved closer to her. He longed to be able to remove the pain from her face. “What is it?” he asked softly.
Her eyes opened. She looked far older than when they had first met. “Ninsiku approaches in all his Fury and the world trembles,” she whispered.
“You mean the winter?”
She nodded. “Yes. Can’t you feel it? Every cycle, I feel him approach, but this time, this time…” she hunched her wiry shoulders protectively. “I fear it. It feels like the beginning of the end.”
Khalvir raised his hand to the air. It was cold, colder than it should be for this season. He could feel the changes. Experience told him the winter would be harsh. “Hmmm,” he agreed. “It will be a long and cruel one. I fear you are right.”
A soft whine sounded from overhead and Khalvir looked up to see a
large furry head peering down at them. The wolf had become a constant companion of late. It’s presence made Khalvir less than comfortable, though the beast had made no further attempts on his life.
The wolf met his gaze and flattened his pointed ears against his grey head as he curled a lip.
“He still does not like me,” he said uncomfortably.
She was unperturbed. “Maybe because you wear his dead kin about your body.” Came her pointed response. Disgust twisted her face as she eyed his coverings. She was in a sour mood today.
Ah. “Sorry,” was all he could think to say. “It’s not personal, simply a matter of survival.” He eyed her clothing right back. “I can’t imagine that those leaves offer you much protection.” She was almost always shivering.
Her lips pulled down and a deep sadness fell over her face. He wished he hadn’t spoken. Contrite, he held out the last of his ration to her. “Take it,” he insisted.
He knew how hungry she must be when she took his offering with no more protest than a grateful smile. He wondered if she eating at all when she was away from him. He did not care for the thought.
Her eyes remained distant as she chewed and he knew she had not admitted to the core reason for her brooding. “What else concerns you? It is not just the coming of the winter.”
She looked up at him with a quizzical frown. “I thought you said you didn’t know me?”
He shrugged. Sometimes he felt like he could read her face as if he had known it his entire life.
She sighed and admitted, “It’s Kyaati. She is ill and not getting any better. I do not know how to reach her. I fear…” her breath caught as tears started in her eyes. “I fear we are going to lose her, too.”
His arms twitched towards her. He thought to the first night he had seen her and of how, even then, she had managed to stir his soul with her fierce determination. He would not see that spirit lost.