Wycaan Master: Book 03 - Ashbar

by Alon Shalev

  The youngsters exchanged words with their leader, and then pulled what looked to Seanchai like crudely made bracelets from their bags and offered them to the elves. Umnesilk instructed them to strap one to each of their boots. There were sharp studs on the bottom.

  Now, with these grips, they were able to walk at a more comfortable pace. The pictorye stole furtive glances at the elves and tried, through the First Boar, to ask questions. But Umnesilk was not interested in translating, and they soon fell silent.

  It was another hour or so before they entered into a big snow tunnel. Seanchai pulled his hood over his head. They walked for about ten minutes, while a steady drip of water echoed around them and set their pace. Seanchai marveled at the beauty, but the cold, white tunnel soon began to feel like it was closing in, and he was glad when they made it through to the other side.

  “Close your mouth,” Sellia whispered to her agape companion. “This is the first time the pictorian nation is seeing you. Try and look reasonably intelligent.”

  “This is amazing,” Seanchai marveled, and closed his mouth.

  They were in a huge basin, with the surrounding rock walls reaching up at least forty feet. Burrowed into the walls were rooms, maybe homes or storerooms. Seanchai gasped when he saw the round ice houses on the basin floor. On some, he could distinguish the shape of the blocks as making a pattern, while on others, there was a artfully arranged. Each house had windows and a doorway.

  Seanchai and Sellia followed Umnesilk past a number of houses, and pictorians of all ages and sizes came out to stare at them. Many were clearly uncomfortable, but the First Boar ignored all their comments and kept his eyes focused ahead.

  Seanchai, peering through his cowl, began to realize that Umnesilk was tense. The First Boar was taking a risk bringing elves into what he had called the City of the Elders. He led them to the center of the village where a huge tent was erected, covered on all sides by animal skins. Seanchai was relieved to see that they were not from bears.

  The huge tent area was lit by torches on poles, and around the perimeter hung decorative skins of many colors. In the middle was a semicircle of nine wooden chairs with armrests.

  On the floor in front of the chairs was a row of wooden benches, where Umnesilk signaled for them to sit. When the big pictorian sat next to him, Seanchai turned and spoke.

  “You’ve taken a big risk bringing us here,” he said. “I appreciate what you’ve done. Know that.”

  Umnesilk nodded and turned to reply, but before he could, a pictorian stood before the nine chairs and began to pound on a big, flat drum slowly and rhythmically. Umnesilk rose, and the elves followed his lead. Seanchai scryed and saw that the tent was full behind them.

  Nine pictorians wearing purple sashes walked slowly to the front and took their seats. When the drumming ceased, Umnesilk signaled for the elves to sit, but remained standing himself.

  He addressed the council and the crowd of people behind him, explaining why he had brought Seanchai there. Then he sat again and leaned in to Seanchai. “All council female, our wisest. They understand your language, some more, some less. One coming who will share between tongues, but speak slow and many will hear your voice. Ah, he come. Thycad serve with me. Trust well.”

  Seanchai rose and drew back his hood. There was a murmur around the hall, and he waited for it to subside. “I am Seanchai, son of Seantai, a wood elf from Morthian Wood. I am also a Wycaan, and I serve those who would rebuild the alliance and allow all who live in Odessiya to be free.

  “Your legends tell how the gods put two brothers on this land, how the brothers were driven apart by their differences, but how eventually their differences helped them work together to defeat an evil king.”

  He paused a moment. “I come to you today because your brothers who walk under the mountains have taken a stand against the evil Emperor. They defeated him at Hothengold, and now he pursues them across the land.

  “I come to ask that you ally with dwarves, elves, free humans, and the Aqua’lansis. This alliance will be guided–not led–by a Wycaan Order, and we will see a peace that once flourished for hundreds of years reborn.

  “In your legends, your brother came to you in your darkest hour and gave you the King’s Mail.” He stopped and pulled off his cloak and shirt in unison. A gasp rose around the hall.

  “The dwarf nation–your brothers–honored me with this gift. I bring it to you as the short brother did in the days of old. It is a symbol, but it is also a plea for help. The craftsman who made this died at the hands of Umnesilk, First Boar of the Pictorians.

  “Umnesilk paid his respects to this dwarf, who, though not a soldier, died with honor by the First Boar’s axe. Now I come and ask that you repay the debt to your brother who lives under the earth.

  “Go forth and help the dwarves. Buy me the time that I may go to the Elves of the West and bring them back; that I might find time to train and learn how to defeat the Emperor.”

  Seanchai looked slowly around the room and then at each of the nine council members. “I come to ask that you stand again with your brother under the mountain, and help free the people of Odessiya. Your boars understood the value of freedom and so left the Emperor’s servitude. You are already involved because the Emperor will not forget their departure. Don’t wait for him to come to you. Don’t face him alone, but in an Alliance with dwarves, elves and others. Take your rightful place once more in the fight for freedom. Thank you.” Seanchai held one more gaze with the council, and then slowly sat down.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The first thing Ahad felt when he woke was a pounding in his head. He opened his eyes long enough to note that he was back in the fortress of Skiliad before letting them close again. The darkness was comforting, but the throbbing would not allow him to return to sleep.

  He heard two hushed voices in the room.

  “He’ll wake with a real headache, judging from the lump,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. “What happened?”

  “We found him unconscious on the road,” Crefen replied. “Reckon he slipped on the scree.”

  “You get used to it ‘round here,” the other replied. “Whole land is bloody rocks. Still, seems clumsy for a Master Assassin and all that. Are you sure that’s what happened? You sure–”

  “You think I’d make up something?” Crefen snapped. “How long have you been stationed up here?”

  “No offense, friend, please,” the man replied. “Been here too long, I guess. If the cuts open again, call for me. If he wakes and complains about the pain, give him this.”

  “Will it help?” Crefen asked.

  “No,” the man admitted. “But it’s disgusting enough that he won’t complain again after drinking it.”

  They both laughed, and Ahad heard the door screech open and shut.

  “You can open your eyes now,” Crefen said. “I know you’re awake. And whine about the pain just once, and I’ll gladly force this drink down your throat.”

  Ahad tried to laugh, but winced instead. “Thanks for covering there. I owe you.”

  “You owe me nothing. I follow Shadow’s orders. If he told me to stick my dirk into where your heart should be, I would without hesitating.”

  “That’s comforting,” Ahad replied.

  The door opened, and Phineus entered and sat on Ahad’s bed. “How’re you doing?” he asked. “You look terrible.”

  “Be up tomorrow,” Ahad replied, though he doubted he would.

  “Yes, you will, whether you want to be or not. General Shiftan is moving many men out of the Ulster Mountains. He doesn’t want too many mouths to feed when the snows hit, if we can’t do much to attack the dwarves.”

  “The supplies?”

  “Destroyed,” Phineus replied. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m sure there are enough supplies. Shiftan’s smart. He was probably bringing supplies in another way or something. What does matter is that he’s furious with you. You broke from the line; that’s insubordination. Either he
punishes you or dismisses you. That wasn’t subtle, Ahad. I’m surprised at you.”

  Ahad sighed. “I didn’t plan it. I saw Shayth and. . .”

  After a few moments of silence, the Crown Prince spoke. “At least they didn’t recognize you. Lucky they didn’t, or you would be either dead or captive.”

  Ahad opened his mouth to respond, but then decided not to share the conversation he’d had with Shayth.

  “Help me up,” Ahad said instead. “I need to speak with General Shiftan.”

  Rising into a seated position required considerable effort, and Ahad already felt dizzy. “Crefen, let me have a swig of that potion. If it kills me, say I died bravely.”

  Crefen came over and handed him the bottle. “With pleasure.”

  Ahad was made to sit outside General Shiftan’s office for what seemed like hours. The bench was hard, and there was nothing to lean back on. When he dozed, his head bobbed, and he woke each time from the pain. A rotund man eventually stepped out and stared at him.

  “Oh, my,” he said, his hands wrapped around his stomach.

  “Don’t tell me,” Ahad snapped. “I look like my father and you fought with him.”

  The man stared at him momentarily without blinking. When he spoke, his voice was crisp and clipped. “I served as your, um, father’s secretary for over twelve years, until he died. I never took up arms with him, but I loved him and served faithfully.

  “And if you are half the man he was, Master Ahad, then you will never grow tired of hearing people, um, praise him.”

  “It won’t bring him back,” Ahad snapped. “It doesn’t serve me.”

  “Your father’s legacy doesn’t serve you?” Bortand frowned. “It is the only thing that has kept you alive and, um, with the friends you have, the education you’ve received. You take much for granted, but that is beside the point.

  “It serves those who wish to tell you how he impacted their lives. It allows men who served with him; risked their lives with him; and killed, mourned, and celebrated with him, to console themselves. Fighting alongside General Tarlach was the single greatest honor they will ever experience.

  “It is not always about you, young Ahad. That is what we call, um, leadership. General Shiftan will receive you now.”

  As the man began to shuffle away, Ahad looked up. “Bortand,” he called, and the man stopped and half-turned. “My father spoke highly of you. Thank you for serving him and for being his friend.”

  Bortand looked at Ahad and finally smiled. “Thank you,” he said, his voice no longer terse.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You were not invited to sit,” General Shiftan snapped from behind his desk when Ahad began to droop into a chair.

  Ahad stood quickly back up and took a deep breath. He was determined not to show weakness, but his head was pounding.

  “Soldier,” the General said. “We were in a battle situation, and you disobeyed my orders.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ahad said. “I should know better, but I saw him and momentarily lost all sense of . . .”

  “You’re lucky the rocks felled you. I can’t imagine what Shayth would have done. He cares nothing for you, as he cared nothing for your father. He’s been killing for ten years–not soldiers in honorable combat, but in barrooms and alleyways. He wouldn’t have hesitated to kill. . .”

  The General stopped abruptly. He had seen something in Ahad’s face. “What is it? Not used to being chewed out by a higher ranking officer?”

  Ahad didn’t answer.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I’ve apologized and admitted I was wrong,” Ahad said. “Punish me as you see fit.”

  “Punish you? Yes, maybe I should, at that. But will you learn from the punishment?”

  “I’ve learned from the mistake,” Ahad retorted. “I am lucky the others–”

  He stopped abruptly. Shiftan had risen to his feet. “You didn’t fall, did you, Ahad? You wear good boots. You trained as an assassin to move on all terrains. You didn’t fall.”

  Ahad didn’t answer.

  “Do I need to remind you that I am a considerably superior officer?” He still received no reply. “Guards!” he shouted, and two burly men entered immediately. “Escort this young soldier to the holding cell. Let him relieve himself on the way and see that he receives the bare minimum of food and water. Lock him up for twenty-four hours by himself.”

  The soldiers saluted. Ahad nodded. “I accept my punishment and again apologize.”

  He turned and walked out with a guard on either side.

  “Bortand, stay, if you don’t mind,” General Shiftan said, and then turned to the healer he had also summoned. “You examined Ahad after we brought him back to Skiliad, correct?”

  “I saw him when we found him on the road, as well, General, though I only checked him briefly in the field.”

  “What did you find?”

  “The swelling was small when I got to him. The skin had a cut on it. Why do you ask, sir? I decided there was minimal danger to lift and bring him back here, given the circumstances. We could have been attacked if we had stayed longer.”

  “You saw evidence of a single cut and a swelling beginning to grow around it?” General Shiftan asked.

  “Yes sir, that’s correct. Are you worried about. . .”

  “Be at ease man,” the General interrupted. “I’m not questioning your actions. When a man falls down the side of the mountain, he’ll bang his head several times, no?”

  The healer stared at him. “I get what you’re asking, sir. Yes, he would have numerous cuts and scrapes, and probably a number of bumps. What I saw, now I come to think of it, was the result of a single blow.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought. Thank you. You serve the Emperor well.”

  “Thank you, General,” the healer saluted. “I only looked quickly ‘cause we were in the field.”

  “I understand. You’re dismissed. Thank you.”

  After the door was closed, General Shiftan turned to Bortand. “Let’s talk to the soldiers who went with him.”

  “Is that wise, sir? You’ll need to acknowledge the, um, young prince.”

  “Yes, you’re right. We need to question them more subtly.”

  “With respect, my General, I tried that. One of our men questioned the boy named Crefen. He stuck to this story. What are you thinking, sir?”

  “Bortand, you know Shayth, at least through Tarlach’s eyes. If Ahad had confronted him, would Shayth have killed him?”

  “Good question, sir,” Bortand rubbed his ample belly, deep in thought. “His reputation reflects the time before he joined the Wycaan. It might be that Shayth has changed. He was so young when everything happened, so perhaps being around this elf has, um, stabilized him.”

  “You have sympathies for him?” Shiftan was annoyed at himself for even asking the question.

  “General Shiftan, I am a loyal servant of the Emperor. The boy killed General Tarlach, and you know how I felt about him. My job as your advisor, however, dictates that I answer your question as best I can.”

  “I’m sorry,” the General replied. “I want to kill Shayth for what he did. I also have the eye of the Emperor on me for my role at Hothengold. I don’t curry his favor as well as your former superior did. But I feel a responsibility for Ahad, my best friend’s son, and if he confronts Shayth, I’m not sure he’ll survive.”

  “There’s an additional problem, too, begging your pardon,” Bortand said. “You have the, um, Crown Prince to consider.”

  “Hmmm, yes. We cannot remain complicit to his being here in disguise for too much longer.”

  Both men sat in silence for a while. Then Bortand cleared his throat.

  “You think Ahad and Shayth met but did not fight?”

  Shiftan nodded.

  “And that worries you because it suggests that Shayth might have, um, changed?”

  “Yes, and also because Ahad is lying. Why would he not tell us that he confronted Shayth
?”

  Bortand suddenly looked up. “They’re changing roles. Ahad suffers for the loss of his father and is perhaps becoming unstable because of it. Shayth has passed through this stage and. . .”

  Shiftan leaned forward “. . . and might just become the leader that his father was. Put the two together, and the Emperor might be facing a far more serious threat than he anticipates.”

  Bortand smiled. “And that’s without considering the Wycaan, my lord.”

  General Shiftan rose and went to a flagon of wine nearby. He poured two cups and brought one to Bortand. “A powerful alliance. Now add the Crown Prince to all this.”

  Shiftan sipped his wine and stared into his cup. “What if Shayth and Ahad spoke? What if Ahad hesitated because of things Shayth said?”

  He rose and took his cup to the window. After a moment, he turned to Bortand. “In the morning, we’ll confront Ahad and the Crown Prince. They must not be allowed to make a connection with Shayth. Bring them to my office first thing in the morning.”

  “Before breakfast, my General?” Bortand asked, rubbing his stomach as he contemplated the next day.

  “Yes, before anyone has time to act.”

  General Shiftan entered his office in the cold, fresh morning air. Bortand was waiting for him, his hands clasped tightly across his stomach. Shiftan glared.

  “Gone?” he roared.

  “Gone,” Bortand replied.

  “And the other three?”

  “Gone, as well.”

  “We must inform the Emperor.”

  “I have already prepared a message. If you approve, I have a hawk waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  One of the elders nodded to Umnesilk, who called a young boar to him. They exchanged a few words before Umnesilk turned to the elves.

  “This Gruenisk. He serve with me in Emperor’s army, speaks common tongue. Go with him for eat and wait. When council ready, horn will blow and all come hear council’s decision.”