Wycaan Master: Book 03 - Ashbar

by Alon Shalev

  “Come now, Shadow. You’re a strapping lad,” he said and laughed.

  Thankfully, so did Phineus. He certainly looked regal. He had very dark–almost black–hair, which he cut to shoulder length in the fashion among the young at court. He actually looked similar to a painting that Ahad had encountered in the palace of the late Prince Shindell. Ahad had never mentioned the painting, but had spent hours studying it. By the prince’s side stood a five-year-old boy, his spiky hair and eyes also dark. Shayth. Ahad had taken in every feature of the lad, but especially his cold, black eyes. It had always been a strange feeling that Phineus and Shayth, cousins, looked so strikingly alike. A thought occurred to him. Would the ambitious Crown Prince try to bind his cousin to him if he found it advantageous, despite knowing how Ahad, his declared best friend, felt about the murderer? Suddenly, Ahad was not quite so happy that his friend rode beside him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ruel and Crefen, the two young men who accompanied Ahad and Shadow, rarely spoke. They took their turns guarding and hunting. In fact, they took on more than their share of the work, never seeming to desire to be part of a group on an adventure.

  As they sat around a fire enjoying a young boar that Shadow had killed, Ahad studied the two. Shadow was guarding while the others ate, so it was just the three of them.

  They were twins–not identical, but almost. They were a year older than Ahad; both large and muscular. They had also trained in the academy, but Ahad knew nothing else about them besides that they were formidable in physical combat. As Ruel packed a pipe, Ahad spoke to him.

  “What’s your bond to Shadow?”

  Ruel stared at him and continued to pack his pipe. Crefen swigged ale from a skin and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “We trained with him at the academy.”

  “I know that,” Ahad snapped. “You trained with me, as well.”

  “Yes,” Crefen acknowledged. “And you’ve improved greatly since our first lessons. Still, it was most entertaining to bruise you then.”

  They both laughed, and Ahad scowled. He wanted to remind them that he was now a Master Assassin, but it seemed impetuous. He resented that they had even made him scowl in the first place.

  “What is your bond to him?” Ahad repeated.

  “We serve at the pleasure of the Emperor of Odessiya,” Crefen said.

  “The Emperor sent you?” Ahad was stunned.

  “No, not exactly,” Crefen replied. “He charged us with the safety of his heir.”

  “How come I never see you in court or at the Pr–Shadow’s social events?”

  Ruel spoke, deeply and menacingly. “Our family name is not seen with honor like some.”

  Ahad frowned at him, and then to Crefen. When neither twin spoke, Ahad decided to drop it.

  “Tell him,” Shadow said from behind Ahad. “Either that, or he’ll accost me at the earliest opportunity.”

  Crefen took another swig of ale, and then screwed the top back on the skin very deliberately.

  “Our father trained at the academy and served under Prince Shindell and your father, the great General Tarlach. He was disgraced, framed he always said, and finally took his own life.”

  “Or so we were always led to believe.” Ruel added.

  “Tell him,” Shadow repeated, his voice regal and authoritative. “He should know with whom he rides.”

  “We believe our father discovered Prince Shindell’s secret society and tried to join. Your father persuaded the prince to reject him.”

  “Why do you think that?” Ahad asked.

  Crefen stared at him. “Our fathers were close until the day they both laid eyes on your mother. They were both fine men, and your mother took her time to decide with whom to mate. But losing a woman can cut deep, very deep. . . and perhaps winning her was not enough for the victor either.”

  “You think my father had yours killed because of my mother?” Ahad couldn’t hide his skepticism and he spoke sharply. “My father was a great man. He would not belittle himself with–”

  “Maybe he felt insecure about being away all the time,” Crefen sneered.

  “Or maybe this has something to do with the secrecy of the group?” Shadow said.

  “So it could have been Prince Shindell?” Ahad added quickly.

  “More than likely both,” Ruel spat. “They were very close, from all accounts.”

  “Anyway,” Crefen said, “they did something much worse than kill him. They disgraced him, took away his honor, his dignity. Honor meant everything to our father. He was a walking dead man long before they finished him.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ahad. “I really am.”

  There was a heavy silence as each boy stared into the fire. Then a thought occurred to Ahad.

  “If your father was disgraced, how is it you were both allowed into the academy, and then entrusted with the life of the Emperor’s heir?”

  “We were admitted to the academy by the Emperor himself.” Crefen replied, rather too quickly. “Perhaps he saw the injustice, but whatever his reasoning, we are loyal to him, so we will protect his son with our lives.

  “He knows he can trust us to keep an eye on you too. Maybe he has planted us to destroy any secret society that you try and form. History repeats itself and the rotten apple never falls far from the diseased tree.”

  Shadow spoke from behind Ahad. “My father is always. . .”

  “Yes,” Ahad snapped, “several moves ahead.”

  “You need not fear us,” Ruel said. “We are here to protect the prince. We won’t sacrifice our lives for you, but neither will we stab you in the back, either physically or figuratively, as your father did to ours.”

  “You don’t know anything for a fact,” Ahad snapped. “Sounds like a lot of assumptions.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Crefen was cleaning his fingernails with a thin blade and did not look up as he spoke. “But when you grow up with the stories–hear them every night, see them on every noble’s face–they become very persuasive.”

  Ahad stared at him and then turned to Ruel. He mustered as much authority into his voice as he could. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You understand revenge. You want to kill Shayth.”

  “His blade killed my father,” Ahad snarled, his temper rising. “That’s different. He held the sword in his hands.”

  “We all define our distinctions,” Crefen said.

  “Define them well,” Ahad stood. “I am very focused in my mission. Give me any reason to doubt you, and I won’t hesitate to dispense with you.”

  “You see?” Crefen smirked without amusement. “The rotten apple never falls far from the diseased tree.”

  Ahad glared at him, then turned toward the Crown Prince. They walked a minute into the darkness.

  “I trust them, Ahad,” Phineus said. “They strive to regain their family honor and will achieve that by protecting me. I’ll bind them to me as I have bound you. I promise. And I’ll try–try, I say–to keep them back from my cousin Shayth so you can take him down first.”

  “It’s not just Shayth I’m thinking of. Tomorrow we’ll reach the command post of General Shiftan.”

  “Was he one of them?” Ahad hesitated, and Phineus smiled. “Understood. I’ll tell them not to kill anyone without my approval. They’re loyal.”

  “Are you sure that loyalty is to you?” Ahad asked, and spent the rest of the night trying to interpret the Prince’s expression.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seanchai and Sellia rode out from Morthian Wood the next morning, traveling much lighter. Seanchai had given the old elfe a considerable portion of their supplies. Sellia knew it was useless trying to persuade him otherwise.

  They returned the way they had come through the woods, but Seanchai turned north when they left the trees behind. Sellia stopped him.

  “Seanchai, either we go aid the dwarves in the east, or find the elves of the west. You have pointed us north.”<
br />
  “I know,” he said. “We head for neither the dwarves, nor the elves.”

  She stared. His face seemed more relaxed than it had in a long time. “Where are we going? I’m not sure a vacation is a priority right now.”

  Seanchai laughed out loud, and Sellia realized how she had missed that sound.

  “North?” she asked.

  “I want to find the pictorians.”

  “You’re kidding me. They aren’t known for their hospitality.”

  “Actually, I’m counting on their lust for war,” Seanchai replied. “An alliance with the pictorians could create a second front for the empire and take the pressure off the dwarves. This would give us time to turn west and allow me to complete my training.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Sellia said. “Do you feel that you need more training? I’ve seen what Mhari has taught you. There can’t be many who can stand up to you.”

  Seanchai shook his head. “They will need only one. There are higher levels of Wycaan energy that I have not discovered. The Emperor has mastered this and I have not. My hope is that the Elves of the West will be able to teach me what it is and how to counter it. Mhari and Master Onyxei either could not or would not.”

  “Why?” Sellia asked.

  “I don’t know. Mhari put great emphasis on me training with a Wycaan elf, saying that each Wycaan has an ability unique to his or her race. This might be what she was referring to. Master Onyxei was just too old.”

  A few moments later, she pointed at a flock of circling white birds–a sure sign of nearby water. Once they started to climb out of the Turkian foothills toward the great mountains, water might become scarce. It would also become colder.

  “We need to fill our water skins,” Sellia said.

  “Perhaps we can bathe there, as well,” he said, reflecting on the uncomfortable, itchy feeling he had.

  A short while later, they crested a small hill and found a waterfall feeding a lake nestled in the hill like a bowl. They dismounted, unloaded their supplies, and tethered the horses. Seanchai scanned for the birds.

  “I’m going to check what’s happening over there. Perhaps we can eat some fish tonight. You bathe.”

  He was confused at the disappointment he thought he saw in Sellia’s face as he gathered his swords. She had sent him away while she bathed after he rescued her from the wolfheids, but things were different now–very different.

  Still, he felt compelled to hunt. He removed his shirt and walked away.

  Sellia watched Seanchai leave and sighed. This was a beautiful setting, with the lake, the waterfall, and even the snow-capped peaks high above. She liked them better at a distance. She suspected her appreciation would wither when negotiating those high passes.

  She approached the edge of the water near the soapwort reeds she would use to lather her body. She shed her clothes and washed them before hanging them on the thickest reeds to dry. Then she entered the water with a handful of reeds, wetting her shoulders and hair. She washed herself and leaned back until only her eyes were above water.

  She sighed again, staring up at the mountains. The journey would be arduous and, though Seanchai had succeeded once with the pictorians, persuading them to withdraw their support of the Emperor and leave the battle they were waging on the dwarves at Hothengold, Sellia was worried how he would fare with those who had not served the Emperor.

  With her ears under water and thoughts elsewhere, Sellia did not hear the horses’ braying, but something instinctive stirred her. She raised her head and saw six shaggy bears. She swam to the shore and grabbed her bow, naked and shivering.

  One huge brown bear faced Sellia. It reached her chest even on all four legs, and was a she-bear with hanging teats and two cubs peering out from behind her legs. The bear grunted at the cubs who scampered into the bushes. One tripped and rolled, and Sellia laughed, despite the danger. The bear looked at her and grunted.

  Sellia glanced along the shore. Seanchai was standing there with several fish on a cord and one of his swords. She know he could fish, but wasn’t sure how he had caught them with those tools alone. But this wasn’t the problem.

  The bear pack stood between them, so they couldn’t join forces. But the she-bear grunted and nodded toward Seanchai, as if telling Sellia to go to him. Sellia obeyed, walking slowly and the bear paced alongside her. She was shivering and regretted not grabbing her clothes. The bear had a fur coat, but all she had was pimples from the cold. She shook her head in disbelief that this was what was worrying her.

  As she watched, Seanchai extended his arms in the universal sign of peace and began speaking to the biggest bear, which stood nearest to him. She watched as Seanchai offered it the fish, surprised at the unspoken conversation the bears seemed to be having among themselves. Seanchai somehow understood the instruction to have another bear to inspect the offering, and when it had, the largest bear approached Seanchai, rose on two feet to tower over the tall Wycaan, and raised a claw above its head.

  Sellia gasped under her breath as she realized Seanchai was not about to defend himself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The giant bear stood with its paw in the air above its head. Sellia could see Seanchai’s lips moving as he talked to the bear, but could not make out what he was saying. The bear lowered its paw to Seanchai’s chest and scratched four lines, one from each claw.

  Seanchai did not flinch, though Sellia could tell it was painful. Blood dripped from the wounds. The bear lowered back down onto four legs and turned away. One by one, the bears approached Seanchai and smelled his body from tip to toe. Only when they were clearly leaving did Seanchai move. He fell to his knees, and his hand went to his chest. Sellia ran to him.

  “We must clean that,” she said.

  “Yes,” he acknowledged. “And they have consented to us eating their fish. Please bring it.”

  He rose and began walking back to the horses. Sellia gathered the fish and jogged to catch up to him. When he stumbled, she put his arm around her shoulder to support him. They walked awkwardly and she suddenly realized her breast was rubbing against his torso. She pulled away without thinking when she saw his blood on her.

  Seanchai smiled, though Sellia didn’t know why. He removed the rest of his clothes and waded into the water. She came after him and cleaned his wound. Then she rubbed some reeds and washed his entire body. When she finished and stood straight in front of him, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her tightly to him.

  “You’re shivering, Seanchai,” she said after a few moments.

  “So are you,” he replied.

  “Let’s go make a fire.”

  He let her go and she left the water, lit a fire, and set the fish on smooth stones, another gift from the lake.

  A short while later, as they sat eating, Seanchai looked up at her, his face beaming.

  “I could talk to them–the bears,” he mused out loud. “They aren’t normal bears. Bears don’t stay in packs like these do. I talked to the leader and. . . he understood, I am sure.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. It just came out, in the ancient tongue.”

  “You speak the language of our ancestors?”

  “I learned certain words in my training, but this was different. I connected to him, Sellia. It was amazing. I could feel what was in his mind, rather than individual words or thoughts. I could tell that he was listening and consented to us being here and passing through their territory.”

  “Is this a Wycaan thing?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. There’s so much I don’t know. But something very important just happened. It wasn’t just accepting me in their territory. It was. . .” he wrinkled his face trying to comprehend. “I was accepted into a family.”

  “Their pack?”

  “Not exactly. It’s bigger than that. I don’t fully understand. . .” He looked at Sellia earnestly. “We must finish with the pictorians and head west. I have a lot to learn about bein
g a Wycaan; a lot to learn about myself.”

  By mid-morning, it had already gotten considerably colder. They were riding steadily uphill and had entered the Turkian Range. The mountains were dark granite and, as they rode higher, the peaks disappeared into the clouds.

  “How do you know where we’re going?” Sellia asked as they rested and fed the horses in the mid-afternoon.

  “Uncle has records of an expedition that set out to meet with the pictorians. An elf and a human left and returned to camp after the elf got sick halfway up. The others disappeared. Maybe they were killed by the elements, but many believe it was at the hands of the pictorians.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Sellia said. “Either we find pictorians and they slaughter us, or keep looking for them and die of exposure.”

  “Still happy you joined me?” Seanchai grinned.

  “You’ve become very confident,” Sellia replied. “I like it.”

  “Receiving Uncle’s blessing and seeing my old village feels like a closure of sorts. Losing Ilana was very difficult and I was never quite sure I could continue. But it feels like a fresh start. I feel this is what Ilana would have wanted.”

  “And having to choose between a violent enemy or death by freezing doesn’t curb your enthusiasm?”

  “I don’t think we’ll freeze to death.”

  “Why?” Sellia asked.

  “Don’t look up,” Seanchai replied, “but we’re being tracked.”

  “By pictorians?”

  “I believe so. It’s looking good.”

  “How so?” Sellia had to fight the urge to look around.

  “Well, they haven’t attacked us yet. We’re still alive. Perhaps they’re interested in why we have come.”

  They stood up, checked the straps on their horses, and then led them through a narrow passage onto a flat plain. A huge spear whistled through the air and landed at Seanchai’s feet. He looked up to see more than fifty seven-foot-tall pictorians gathered in a large semicircle, massive axes and spears at the ready.