Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3)

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Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 26

by Annie Douglass Lima


  Back on his horse, his spear bearing a fresh load of roasted fish, Korram let her pick their route up the next slope. This was the one that he had thought at first was Nezkodney, and he smiled to think how much wiser a wilderness traveler he was now. Soon he would be back with the Mountain Folk, and he wasn’t going to feel inferior to them anymore. He had survived the Rite of Acceptance just as they had, and he had a horse just as good as any of theirs. The mountains were a part of him now, and he had grown to be a part of them. I really will be one of the Mountain Folk.

  Clinja seemed to have a particular route in mind as she trotted down the next slope. Though the tracks of various animals crisscrossed the snow, he noticed one set of prints that could have been made by hooves. Had Clinja noticed them too? Could horses identify footprints? At any rate, she seemed to be following those tracks, and Korram let her. They were going in roughly the right direction, after all.

  Down past the snow, the tracks disappeared, but Clinja still seemed to know the route she wanted to take. She stopped often to prick up her ears and sniff the air before trotting forward once again, picking her way around the edge of a steep bluff. Finally she stopped and gave a loud neigh. To Korram’s surprise, it was answered by another neigh from just ahead.

  Trotting around the rock outcropping, they came upon a little meadow, full of pink and lavender flowering heather, cut in half by a winding stream. At the edge of the meadow a horse and a human stood by the foot of the bluff.

  It had been so long since Korram had seen another human being that he nearly dropped the reins, staring stupidly as Clinja bore him closer. For days on end the mountains had been his alone, but it had been a hard, isolated, lonely feeling. He was surprised at the rush of emotions that welled up at the mere sight of another person. He was no longer the sole inhabitant of this beautiful wilderness. Suddenly there was someone he could talk to, someone who had probably been through experiences and endured hardships a lot like his. Korram had never felt so strongly connected to another human before, let alone a stranger.

  As they drew closer, Korram saw that it was the girl he had met that night in the storm – not far from this very spot, now that he thought about it. Her sunburned face sported a collection of half-healed cuts and scrapes, one eye swollen a shiny purple. Her lips were badly chapped and her deerskin clothes were dirty, tattered, and bloodstained – in short, she looked much the way Korram supposed he did now.

  She had been drawing pictures on the vertical rock wall in a spot sheltered by an overhang, using reddish clay from the bank of the stream. But she and the horse both turned to watch them come, and her battered, sunburned face wore a wide smile.

  “So you did make it, after all,” she exclaimed, dropping a handful of wet clay to the ground and wiping her hands on her breeches. “Oh, I hoped you would. I felt so bad leaving you out in the storm that night, but you know how it is. We had to keep to the rules or we’d be disqualified. But anyway, we’ve both been Accepted now, and isn’t it wonderful?”

  She laughed self-consciously as Clinja stopped before them and Korram slid off of his horse’s back. “Listen to me, babbling on and on. It’s just that I’ve had no one to talk to for days, and then you show up out of nowhere like this.”

  Korram laughed too, the sound ringing strangely in his ears. When was the last time I laughed out loud? “I know what you mean,” he told her. “Thank you for the meat, by the way. I’m not sure I would have survived without it.”

  Instantly she grew defensive. “Meat? What meat? I didn’t give you anything!” Her eyes, he noticed now that he stood close, were a startling shade of lavender, though Korram couldn’t tell if that was their real color or if they were somehow reflecting the hue of the meadow around them. The effect was distracting, and he had to force himself not to stare at them while he fumbled for words.

  “The – the meat you left in the cave,” he explained finally. “The rabbit. I was so hungry.”

  “I didn’t leave you any meat! It would have been cheating to share my food with you. I didn’t cheat!” She sounded angry, but Korram thought he saw a twinkle in those lavender eyes. “I’d had all I wanted, so I left the scraps behind. It’s none of my concern what happened to my leftovers.”

  There was obviously no point in arguing, and in any case, Korram didn’t want to quarrel with the first person he had seen in – what? Days? Weeks?

  “Well, anyway, I’m glad we’ve both been Accepted,” he told her. “It looks as though you had a hard time of it as well.”

  She touched her swollen eye gingerly with clay-covered fingers. “Yes, I almost didn’t make it. I got caught in an avalanche up on Mount Clinja, and I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. That’s why I named my horse Avalanche. Oh, and my name’s Thel. What about you?”

  “I’m Korram, and this is Clinja.” They both turned to watch the two horses greeting each other, whinnying and prancing around like old friends, which they probably were.

  “Korram? That’s a funny name. I’ve never heard of anyone named Korram before.” Thel cocked her head to one side curiously.

  Would she think less of him if she knew who he was? Korram wasn’t sure why he cared, but for some reason he did. Still, he was going to have to tell all the Mountain Folk eventually, so he might as well start with her.

  “Well, I’m not actually from the mountains,” he began. “I’ve been living with a Mountain Folk family recently, but I’m originally from the Lowlands. I traveled here ….” His voice trailed off as the girl’s jaw dropped in amazement.

  “What? You can’t be telling me you were a Lowlander,” she gasped, looking truly stunned. “Surely that’s impossible. I mean, you just got Accepted!”

  “Well, yes. I was told that if I could get Accepted, the Mountain Folk would accept me as one of them. Isn’t that true?”

  “Of course it’s true. You’re one of us now, obviously. But did you really used to be a Lowlander? I didn’t think Lowlanders could do it. I mean, we all know the stories, like the one about the miner’s son who fell in love with a Mountain girl and went through the Rite of Acceptance so he could marry her. But I thought those were just legends.”

  “Maybe I’m a legend come to life,” Korram suggested, smiling.

  He liked the way Thel grinned back at him. “No wonder you didn’t know all the rules. I can’t believe it! Wait until we tell everyone at the Mid-Autumn Gathering that an actual, real Lowlander got Accepted this year! You are going to be at the Gathering, right?”

  “Definitely,” Korram assured her. “Actually, that’s the reason I went through all this. I can explain it all, if you’re interested.”

  “Of course I’m interested. I want to know what would make a Lowlander decide to come up here and get Accepted.”

  So they sat down in the grass while their horses grazed, and Korram started at the beginning. He explained about his being the prince and how a regent had to rule until he was old enough to be king. Thel listened intently, asking questions that showed she was really trying to understand, as he described the danger Rampus posed and how he hoped to gather an army of Mountain Folk to help him stand against the regent.

  “Do you think many people will be interested in joining my army?” he asked finally. Perhaps she could give him some idea of how many volunteers to expect.

  Thel gazed thoughtfully into the distance, arms wrapped around her knees. “Maybe. Just the fact that a former Lowlander managed to get Accepted will be big news at the Gathering. Everyone will be amazed. Of course, most people won’t want to leave the mountains, but if it would only be for a little while, you could probably persuade some. Coming with you to the city would be an adventure. I know I’d like to come and see the Lowlands. I’ve always wondered what it’s like down there.”

  The four of them spent the rest of that afternoon in the meadow, the humans chatting while the horses grazed. Korram decided that a little delay wouldn’t hurt, and he had to admit that he didn’t want to say goodbye right away. It had been
so long since he’d had anyone to talk to, and he was enjoying Thel’s company.

  He told her about life in Sazellia and the different towns in Malorn he had visited. She told him about her journey to Horse Valley: the wolves that had treed her, the rabbits she had trapped for food, the avalanche that had covered her with bruises and almost buried her alive. She showed him the pictures she had been drawing on the rock wall beside them: the tale of her adventures, told in red clay for other travelers to see, at least until the weather wore them away. Korram was surprised at her artistic talent. If she could draw this well with clay, what might she do if she ever learned to use a paintbrush?

  He told her about his journey, too: the bears, the blizzard, his night with the snowcat. Thel was incredulous at that part, and made him tell it twice.

  “I can’t believe you actually spent the night with a live snowcat and survived,” she exclaimed at last, shaking her head in wonder. “You’re amazing, and not just for a former Lowlander!” Korram felt his cheeks grow warm.

  That evening they built separate campfires a few yards away from each other, each dining on food from their own supplies. Even now, Thel explained, it would be cheating to share or work together in any way. But Korram didn’t mind. It felt good to show her that he didn’t need help this time.

  The next morning they said goodbye, as Thel and Avalanche were heading along the valley back toward her family’s camp, while Korram and Clinja were to climb the opposite slope.

  “But we’ll see each other again soon,” she assured him. “It isn’t long until the Mid-Autumn Gathering, and don’t forget that I’m coming with you to the Lowlands after that. Besides, you know what they say about people who meet on the Rite of Acceptance.” She grinned mischievously, and Korram found himself grinning back, even though he had no idea what “they” said.

  The mountains seemed strangely quiet when he and Clinja were alone again, with only the soft thudding of his horse’s hooves and the wind in the grass to break the silence. Though he had been alone for more days than he could count, having spent time with another person made the loneliness now seem deeper than before.

  Korram found himself urging Clinja on faster. He could hardly wait to be around people once more. But thinking of Ernth and his family camped somewhere up ahead didn’t make him smile quite the way thoughts of Thel did.

  Part 3: The Army

  Chapter 14

  It was a breezy afternoon, with scattered puffs of cloud chasing each other across a brilliant blue sky. Ernth and Thorst had been enjoying the crisp autumn weather as they hunted rabbits on the hillside.

  Frost had begun to blanket the ground at night, and if they left a pouch of water out, a crust of ice often rimmed its surface by morning. Except for the evergreens, the trees on every slope had changed color. Everyone in the family had started wearing shoes and jackets. Winter would be here soon, and with it the snowstorms, the scarcity of food, the necessary move to lower elevations and more frequent interactions with Lowlanders. But for now the weather was still beautiful during the day, though Ernth could see his breath as he and his cousin trudged back toward camp with two rabbits each in the early evening.

  They were still a long way away when he sensed something different. From the top of the slope, he could see the distant figures of his family members clustered near their tents. His parents had returned earlier with the goats and the milking was apparently finished, so why was everybody just standing around there?

  It was too far away to make out their expressions, but from the way the children were jumping around, excitement was apparently in the air. And the horses were prancing about too, the way they sometimes did when they met horses from another family. Ernth counted them and frowned. Twelve? That couldn’t be right. Where had the extra one come from?

  “Do you see that?” Thorst demanded, beside him.

  Ernth nodded. “There must be some other family camped nearby, and someone’s come over to visit.”

  But even as he spoke the words, another thought occurred to him. Could it be?

  No, surely not. That was impossible. He couldn’t have made it.

  As they drew nearer, Ernth sniffed the breeze and frowned again. He smelled roasting meat, but not rabbit or venison or any of the meats he was accustomed to. This was the distinctive aroma of roasting goat. His favorite, but a delicacy normally reserved only for special occasions. The last time they had roasted a goat for supper, Ernth recalled, was a year and a half ago, to celebrate his Acceptance. Before that, it had been the previous summer, when Thorst was Accepted.

  It was about the time of year when they would cull their flock, saving a few goats for breeding and milk. The rest would be butchered, the meat carefully dried and saved for the winter when other food was harder to come by. It was rare to actually roast a haunch of goat for supper, as he could see his father doing now, crouching beside a spit over the coals. And the family knew he and Thorst had gone hunting. True, they were returning a little late – they had turned it into a contest and Ernth had been determined to shoot one last rabbit to keep Thorst from beating him – but the family should still have been waiting for the meat they were bringing.

  Ernth stopped just outside of camp, staring. Ahead of him his family was clustered around the newcomer standing in their midst, their voices full of excitement, laughter, questions, congratulations – just the way it had been when Ernth himself had returned from being Accepted.

  Battered and tattered, skinny and sunburned, the young man stood proudly, his arm around the neck of a beautiful bay mare. Ernth couldn’t believe it.

  Conversation died down as everyone quieted, turning to see his reaction. For a moment no one spoke, and the only sound was the bleating of one of the goats.

  Unexpectedly, Ernth’s throat felt tight, memories of his own return with Hungry rushing over him. The weary relief, the pride, the thrill of relating the dangers he had faced to a rapt audience, tender affection for his new horse, the anticipation of hopes and dreams he could fulfill now that he had been Accepted.

  As always, hopes and dreams reminded him of Jenth, and Ernth scowled. He would always blame the Lowlanders for her death.

  But this wasn’t a Lowlander. The young man facing him belonged here now, no doubt about it. He wore his deerskin clothing, stained with dirt and grass and blood and who-knew-what-else, as though it were a second layer of skin. The sturdy, fire-hardened spear in his hand had obviously shared adventures with him, saved his life even, and he held it as comfortably as though it were another limb. He smelled of slushy snow and wind off the glaciers and vast empty skies, of wood smoke in lonely campsites, of blooming heather, sun-soaked granite, the sweat of a long day’s weary trek, of roast fish and raw lumjum and pears.

  And it was plain that the horse who nuzzled him affectionately was more than an animal, more than a friend, even. She was a member of his family and a piece of his heart.

  Stepping forward, Ernth set down the rabbits he was carrying and extended a hand to pat the horse’s shoulder. But she jerked her head up and pranced nervously backward, probably alarmed at the scent of rabbit blood on his hands. Korram turned and stroked her neck to reassure her, obviously proud that he was the only person his horse trusted so far.

  Finally Ernth could postpone the moment he knew everyone was waiting for no longer. He turned from the horse to face Korram again, all eyes still fixed on the two of them. “Well.” He stopped and cleared this throat. “Well, Prince of Malorn, I see you got yourself a horse.”

  Korram nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “Her name is Clinja.”

  Even the name is perfect. Ernth had half expected him to have inflicted some stupid Lowlander name on her, but in true Mountain style, he had named his horse after an obstacle in his journey.

  Ernth drew a deep breath. “I see you’re not like other Lowlanders after all. You’re one of us now. I was wrong about you.”

  It was hard to force the words out, but at the same time, admitting it wasn
’t quite as difficult as he had thought it would be. Not when it was so obviously true.

  Korram held his gaze for a long moment as though trying to determine whether Ernth had really meant what he had said. At first it seemed as though he might not accept the apology.

  “That’s all right,” Korram finally replied, and his grin showed that he meant it too.

  “Clinja looks fast. Want to race?” Ernth challenged, breaking the awkwardness. “I’ll bet Hungry and I can make it around those trees and back before you can!”

  That night they feasted on roast goat and lumjum cakes, and Korram ate like someone who has survived on one or two foods for far too long. “I never want to see another fish again,” he confided after his third helping of goat. Everyone chuckled, each recalling the foods they had grown sick of during their own quests for Acceptance.

  While they ate, Thisti peppered Korram with questions, eager to hear about his adventures. The family’s eyes grew wide as he described spending a night beside a snowcat, and everyone laughed as he sheepishly related his pursuit by a bear. Long after the meal was over, they sat around the fire pressing him for more details of his adventures and comparing them to their own.

  Ernth didn’t say much, but as he listened, he kept thinking of how much this conversation sounded like the one they had had after his own Acceptance, and Thorst’s, and everyone else’s he could remember. True, Korram had made some foolish mistakes and done a few things that the rest of them would have known better than to do. But he had survived and succeeded, and that was what mattered. In any case, he was definitely not a Lowlander anymore.

  Ernth didn’t even complain when he remembered that the two of them would be sharing a tent that night. It was almost like having another member of the family there.

 

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