Wycaan Master: Book 01 - At The Walls Of Galbrieth

by Alon Shalev

  “What about you?” Seanchai asked. “We only have three horses.”

  “I’ll follow off the path,” Shayth said. “It’ll be easier for me to see and help if you get into trouble.”

  “But you have no horse. We should walk, all of us, together.” Even Seanchai heard the panic in his voice.

  Shayth came over to Seanchai’s horse and adjusted some of its straps. Actually, Seanchai noticed he adjusted all of the horse’s straps.

  “Had this horse long?” Shayth asked, casually patting the horse’s mane.

  “No,” mumbled Seanchai. “They gave him to me.” He nodded toward Ilana.

  “Ah-ha,” Shayth said. “You’re a forest elf? From Morthian Wood, you said?”

  “Uh-huh,” Seanchai replied, feeling panic rise.

  “The elves of Morthian Wood are excellent woodsmen–err, woodelves. Fine hunters and foragers, I hear. Not much need to ride horses in the thick brush.”

  The hand in front of Ilana’s mouth hid her grin but not her red cheeks. Rhoddan had turned his back to them and was walking away. Seanchai noticed his shoulders shaking with laughter.

  “Okay,” said Seanchai accepting his fate. “I don’t have much experience with horses.” They all turned together and stared at him. “In fact,” he sighed, “I have no experience with horses.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Ilana asked after she got her giggles under control.

  Seanchai shrugged.

  Ilana glided over playfully and wrapped her hands around his neck. “I think it’s cute.” Abruptly, she sharpened and pulled away from him. “But what if we were attacked and needed to flee on horseback? Rhoddan and I could be miles away before we realized you had fallen off or been thrown.

  “Rhoddan, please bring your horse over here and show our ward at least how to mount and dismount. The rest he’ll manage, for now, by hanging on. Shayth, let’s scout ahead a bit and choose our path.”

  Seanchai turned to Rhoddan, who was approaching with his own horse. His friend was still grinning, and Seanchai was quite convinced that the horse was smirking, as well.

  For most of the day they rode. Seanchai, to his credit, never fell off, but quickly lost all feeling in his thighs and backside. They passed fields and meadows surrounded clusters of farmhouses and barns. Cows, pigs and sheep grazed in groups. Still, Seanchai noticed that they never actually saw anyone working in the fields or tending the livestock. He asked the others about this.

  “I think it might be fear,” Shayth answered. “The army passes this way and might decide to conscript a strapping young farmhand.”

  “I doubt the women would wander far from the buildings either,” Ilana added.

  Shayth appeared and disappeared at various intervals, always joining them when they rested. At one such break in the late afternoon, he watched Seanchai staring at his horse. “Ilana,” he asked. “What is the name of Seanchai’s horse?”

  “Snowmane.”

  The horse was chestnut with a long white mane. Shayth patted him and signaled for Seanchai to join him.

  “Stroke him,” he instructed. “Feel the contours on his neck, chest, and flanks. Let him know you care about him, that you’re a partnership. Make him your best friend, and he’ll be as loyal as Ilana and Rhoddan.” He glanced over and saw they were watching him. “He’s a lot cuter, too.”

  As Shayth turned, Seanchai said, “You know a lot about horses. Why don’t you have one?”

  Shayth turned, and Seanchai saw that his eyes had darkened. “I did–a powerful and intelligent stallion named Windstar. I could call him from anywhere with a whistle and he would gallop to me and nuzzle. I spent hours grooming and caring for him.”

  “What happened?” Ilana asked, a sick feeling in her stomach.

  “Same as everyone I’ve been close to,” Shayth replied, his back to them and his voice cold. “He’s dead.”

  Seanchai touched Shayth’s shoulder, but the human threw off his hand and spun to glare at Seanchai. Shayth’s face was contorted with rage, and he bared his teeth.

  “It’s the hate that fuels me,” Shayth hissed. “Don’t ever try to temper it.”

  Seanchai thought about Shayth as they rode through the afternoon. They were so close in age, yet Shayth was already burdened with such terrible experiences. Seanchai wished there was something he could do.

  They continued to ride as the sun began its descent. They were approaching a sharp bend in the road when Shayth, who had not been with them for some time, hissed from the side. “Checkpoint!”

  They froze. Rhoddan and Ilana immediately backtracked their horses, but Seanchai didn’t know how to. Shayth dropped silently beside him and grabbed Snowmane’s reins just under the muzzle. He murmured into the horse’s perked ears and turned it around.

  “We have another half a day before we enter the Seven Peaks,” Ilana said when they were a safe distance away and off the road. “I’m not sure what to do. There’s only one way into those mountains.”

  “Maybe not,” Shayth replied. “I know another way, a pass, but it’s dangerous. There’s a particularly nasty gang of bandits who camp up there.”

  “We could try and bluff our way through the checkpoint,” Seanchai suggested, and was met with some astonished looks. “Then it’s settled. We take our chances with the bandits.”

  Shayth ruffled his unruly hair again, a sign they now recognized as anxiety, but he didn’t say anything further.

  They doubled back to a small path that led north. Seanchai admitted to himself that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if he hadn’t been following his guides. The path began to ascend and they led their horses up it, single file. Shayth jogged ahead to scout. Ilana followed and Seanchai saw her glancing around.

  “What’s the name of your horse, Ilana?” Seanchai asked from behind her.

  “Night,” she replied with pride. Her horse was a stately black stallion with a sliver of white on her nose.

  “It’s a fitting name,” Seanchai said and then called over his shoulder. “What about yours, Rhoddan?”

  Rhoddan was bringing up the rear and mumbled under his breath.

  “I can’t hear you,” Seanchai called back. Ilana laughed.

  “His horse is named Riverwader,” she said. “He’s always loved galloping through water–river, lake or even a puddle after the rain–and kicking up dirt on everyone around him.”

  “I should have a battle horse,” Rhoddan grumbled from the back. “I am a warrior.”

  Ilana stopped and turned to look at them. “I have seen Riverwader in a fight, Rhoddan. He’s disciplined and brave. You shouldn’t judge him so.”

  Riverwader neighed loudly and Ilana and Seanchai burst out laughing. Rhoddan shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to maintain a scowl. Then he patted his horse affectionately. “I guess we’ll make it work, huh, buddy?”

  It was getting dark as they reached the rock face.

  “I’m torn about whether to start through so late in the day,” Shayth said. He stood thinking for a while and then turned darkly to the others. “You camp here. I’ll go in, find the bandit camp, and try to talk to them. Perhaps we’ll have better luck negotiating than fighting.”

  Ilana began to protest, but Shayth cut her off.

  “I don’t think we would have much chance in these gorges against hardened men and elves who make a living out of surprising and robbing people. Besides, their leader is a man called Calreith, and we go back a time.”

  “He’s your friend?” asked Seanchai feeling upbeat.

  “We’ve had some fun together,” Shayth replied, “though I believe his parting words when last we met were, ‘I’ll slit your throat if I ever get my hands on you,’ or something like that. I can’t be sure since I was riding away from him in quite a hurry.”

  “Riding away from him?”

  “Yes, on his horse.” Shayth grimaced, then turned and disappeared into the dark.

  Twelve

  Seanchai woke with a start t
o Ilana’s cry cutting through the silent dawn. He sprung from his blankets and scrambled for his knives. But when he looked at her, he saw she had not dropped into battle position, but was looking at an approaching figure.

  Shayth was barely recognizable as he stumbled toward them. Seanchai saw that the young human’s face was swollen and one eye was puffed shut. Rhoddan flew to his side to steady Shayth and lower him to the ground.

  Shayth slumped back against a rock. “Water,” he rasped.

  Rhoddan scrambled over to his pack and retrieved his canteen. When Shayth stopped drinking, Rhoddan loosened his neck scarf, poured some water onto it, and pressed it to Shayth’s face. The others knelt next to him, staring at his beaten face.

  Rhoddan glanced sharply around. “Shayth. Were you possibly followed?”

  “For sure,” Shayth replied. “But they won’t approach.”

  “Why not?” Rhoddan asked.

  Shayth just shook his head.

  “I’m sorry they did this to you,” said Ilana sadly. “Seanchai and I can perform healing on you and then we’ll go back the way we came.”

  “Go back? Why?” Shayth tried to sit up, gasped in pain and gave up.

  “We can’t face those animals,” she said. “We should never have let you go alone.”

  “No,” Shayth replied. “I was successful. He’ll let us pass, but first he wants to meet the special student.”

  “You call this success?” Ilana shook her head. “What kind of success is this?”

  “The kind of success that gets Seanchai to his teacher.” Shayth winced briefly before continuing. “Anyway, Calreith actually seemed quite pleased to see me.”

  “Pleased?”

  “Sure. If he still held a grudge, I’d be dead. Now let me rest a while. Perhaps we should eat before we head in.”

  After breakfast, Seanchai offered to lay hands on Shayth to help speed his healing. “I won’t be touching your mind; I think I can control it now that I know what can happen,” Shayth couldn’t deny that it would help him on their day’s journey and begrudgingly accepted the help. He lay back and let Seanchai work on him, thanking him warmly when he finished.

  While Seanchai was healing Shayth, Rhoddan signaled for Ilana to join him a distance away.

  “Ilana,” he whispered. “I need you to trust me and do as I tell you.”

  She nodded and Rhoddan wet her hair and face, rubbed dirt and ash on both, and twisted her hair into loose knots. When he had finished, she looked eerily gray.

  “From now on, wear your hood tightly drawn so that no one can see your face. When we approach the camp stay in the rear and pretend to be tired and weak. Don’t overplay it in case we need to keep the act up. Just sow some seeds in their thoughts.”

  “You have a plan?” she asked. When he nodded, she added, “A good one?”

  He smiled weakly. “All that is important is that Seanchai gets through the mountains. Remember that.”

  He called the others over to explain his plan.

  Calreith stood scowling in the middle of his camp, his crossed arms bulging with muscles. He was a towering man with bright red hair and a wild beard. A huge battle hammer was slung across his back.

  “So,” he sneered when Seanchai, Ilana and Rhoddan stopped their horses in front of him. “This is the miserable band of followers who have attached themselves to my dear friend Shayth. We would rob you, but if he is the best guide you can afford, I doubt you have any money or jewels.”

  His gang laughed crudely. Rhoddan guided his horse forward. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “Calreith, we are on an urgent mission. We respectfully request safe passage through your territory. We have very little time.”

  “Are you the special one?” Calreith asked.

  “Aye,” Rhoddan replied with the same calm tone.

  “I doubt it,” Calreith countered. “You’re probably bluffing to protect…” he looked at the others, though their hoods gave little away, “him.” He pointed at Seanchai, who felt a shiver of fear as he thought of the beating Shayth had received.

  But Rhoddan laughed. “He can barely ride a horse, as you have seen. And he bears arms like a child. His mind is a child’s, too. He’s harmless, pathetically so.”

  Everyone laughed and Seanchai hung his head. Rhoddan was playing a dangerous game. Seanchai did not like the idea of Rhoddan putting himself in danger by pretending to be him.

  “Then what about…” Calreith stopped and glared at Ilana. Though her hood masked her face, he could see the feminine curves of her chest. “A woman?”

  “An elfe,” Rhoddan corrected him. “She is sick and we must deliver her to a healer at the monastery of Trewent before I can continue on my mission. Her father provided us with safe passage through his land in return for this. We must be careful. People seem to die if she touches or breathes on them. That’s why I have the simpleton to attend her.”

  A murmur went through the bandits. Only Calreith seemed doubtful. He stared deeply at Ilana and then at Shayth before speaking to Rhoddan again.

  “How, then, have you managed to buy the services of Shayth? You must have money to give him?”

  “No,” replied Shayth, moving next to Rhoddan. “Her father has my horse.”

  There was a dangerous silence and then Calreith started laughing. His huge shoulders shook and he held his stomach. “You have nerve, Shayth. Did they use your own tricks on you?”

  “Yes,” Shayth replied, “and I would appreciate if you would hold off killing me until I have had my revenge.”

  Calreith laughed again. Then he addressed Rhoddan, abruptly serious again. “Swear to me that you hate the Emperor. Swear that you will never reveal us, and swear that you will never take the Emperor’s service.”

  Rhoddan dismounted Riverwader and approached Calreith. The big man towered over him but the elf looked unflinchingly into his eyes. “The Emperor’s army has destroyed my village, tortured my people, and killed my family and many of my friends. If you are a fellow enemy of the Emperor, then you have my oath. Ashbar.”

  Calreith and Rhoddan stared at each other for a while, recognizing mirrored suffering in each other. Then Calreith glanced over to two elves in his band, both carrying long bows like Shayth, and one of them nodded back. Seanchai realized he was holding his breath.

  Then Calreith spoke. “You swore in the ancient elven language. This binds you forever. You and Shayth are welcome at our fire. Eat with us, sleep here tonight and then in the morning, we will see you through the mountain pass. The girl will stay over there,” he nodded to an area by a large rock, “and the simpleton will bring her food. She will not come near any of my men, or they have my permission to strike her down. Am I clear?”

  “So be it,” said Rhoddan. “Thank you. One day I hope to repay the debt.”

  “If I have need,” Calreith replied, “I’ll make sure you do.”

  Thirteen

  Seanchai played his part, walking with his head down and staying close to Ilana. Rhoddan, on the other hand, strutted around the camp and loudly gave orders to both of them. After a generous dinner, Calreith’s men settled around the campfire and became more raucous as ale and mead flowed. Rhoddan was invited to join them, though he became increasingly intimidated as they drank.

  Shayth stayed in the shadows, out of the way of Calreith and his men. He knew the band’s leader was not alone in harboring a grudge against him. An anonymous blade in the dark could be blamed on any one of a number of men.

  After several hours, when the men began to either fall asleep or give in to drunken stupors, Shayth pulled Rhoddan aside.

  “Come, we should return to the others.”

  “Where are you going, elf?” someone shouted. “You walk far too straight. I think you haven’t been keeping up with the ale. Can’t elves take their drinks like men? Perhaps that is why your race is no longer strong.”

  There were cheers and laughter. Shayth felt his companion stiffen.

  “Steady,” he
whispered.

  Rhoddan turned slowly. By the time he was facing the fire, he had a placid smile on his face. “I need to check that the oaf has fed our horses with the oats and water that you gave us. I am worried that he confused it with beer and it’ll be no fun in the morning riding a horse with a hangover.”

  The bandits laughed, allowing Rhoddan to turn and walk away.

  “Very nice,” said Shayth. “I think being arrogant suits you,” and he patted him on the shoulder.

  Despite the heavy drinking the night before, Calreith and two of his men were ready at first light. The steam that wafted from the cups they were holding was clear in the crisp morning air. They already had their horses saddled, along with a third for Shayth, and had packed some additional bundles of food. Calreith pointed at Seanchai.

  “Elf. Take these supplies to your horses. Mind you tie them well.” As Seanchai scurried to comply, Calreith turned to Rhoddan. “These men volunteered to escort you through the mountains. They are not under my command, so treat them well if you want their service. This is Mainch and Rovert.”

  Thank you,” Rhoddan said, turning his horse around.

  “And Shayth,” Calreith pointed a long finger, “don’t ever come back here again unless you plan to repay past debts.”

  “It was good seeing you too, big man, and thanks for the horse. Now I owe you two.”

  Thankfully, it was Calreith’s deep belly laugh that escorted them away from the bandit camp.

  Calreith’s men guided them steadily along the path. They snickered at Seanchai’s horsemanship, but otherwise kept to themselves. The path rose, as did huge, pale granite rocks on either side. Once through the pass, they began crossing a small plateau. Seanchai enjoyed the openness–the blue sky and the mountains behind them–but realized he was indeed a wood elf. He craved the smell of moss and the security of trees and daydreamed about the herbs that his mother had taught him, trying to recall their names and properties. It all seemed so long ago.