by Alon Shalev
With Sellia pressed to him, Seanchai shot six arrows. He missed the target every time, but it never bothered him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sellia sighed deeply, cozy in the warmth of the bearskins. She woke to the lazy crackle of a few sticks–enough heat to boil water. She was used to the routine. Seanchai would either be doing his standing exercises or brewing his sustaining mushroom tea.
But not this morning as different sounds penetrated her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, Sellia found a shirtless Seanchai practicing with the bow and arrows. She sat up and leaned against the rock, hugging the bearskin around her. The morning sun encircled the Wyccan with light as it peeked over the mountains from where they had come.
She sighed again. Sellia had not expected to actually experience these feelings of intimacy again. She never thought she would love another. But somehow, the memories of Dyrovas, her deceased mate, seemed less painful now and her growing affection for Seanchai had surpassed simply a binding oath made to Ilana.
As Sellia watched, Seanchai jumped into the air in celebration.
“Did you actually hit the target?” she asked.
Seanchai blushed, startled. “Caught,” he admitted. “There is some bread and meat warming for you by the fire.”
She crawled out from the skins, disappeared into the trees and, when she returned, sat by the fire. Seanchai gave her a steaming mug of tea. “You’re not going to cast a spell on me with your Wycaan potion?” she declared, relieved to smell aromatic leaves rather than his bitter mushroom tea.
Sellia glanced at the target she had set up. There were five arrows protruding from it. “That’s quite an improvement. Have you ever used a bow before?”
Seanchai nodded. “I had a simple one for hunting that could shoot a light arrow about twenty or thirty feet. It was meant for kids. I tried to show my prowess to Uncle when I met him. It didn’t work. I put a few arrows in a target standing still, but then he made me run and roll before shooting. I missed every one, I think. You never miss. Whether you are in motion, or under pressure, or you’re taking a reflex shot like what took down our dinner last night. There is something almost spiritual about it.”
They finished eating, packed up their possessions, and were soon walking through the trees.
“Tell me more about archery,” Seanchai said after a while.
“Tell you more? Okay. The arrow has a pointy bit and you try and pierce that into whatever you are aiming at.”
Seanchai, who was leading, pulled back a branch he passed under and let it flick back toward Sellia. She ducked with ease and continued laughing. Seanchai was smiling.
“We have a long walk,” he said at last. “Humor me.”
“Okay,” Sellia replied. “Those who make bows are known as bowyers, and those who make arrows are called fletchers. In the bigger cities, they have shops and often work together under one roof. Sometimes there is a tanner working with them, making the quivers. When the city has an archery competition, the winner’s bow and arrows are a great advertisement for the bowyer and fletcher.
“Ideally, you have everything custom-made to your exact build and needs. Even the quiver can be made to fit your specific build. And since they serve different purposes, the bow and arrows used in war are not usually the same as the ones used for hunting.”
After a few minutes, Seanchai asked another question. “Did you win your bow?”
Sellia’s bow was a dark red wood, and Seanchai had seen the care she used with it. “Some of the bowyers travel around the country selling their wares. When I was about sixteen, I already had a reputation with a bow that Uncle had given me. A few of us were returning from a very successful ambush and were in high spirits.
“We came across a trader caravan under attack by bandits, and Dyrovas led us against them. I shot one who was attacking the bowyer’s daughter. When we had driven them off, the traders were very appreciative. They told Dyrovas to choose anything from their wares as a sign of their gratitude.
“He picked out a beautiful bow and asked if it was suitable for me, but the bowyer said it was not a good match for my build. She made me shoot some arrows with the bow I had and watched. Then she produced this one that she had kept wrapped in leathers. She told us that it was the finest work she had ever done. Dyrovas. . .” Sellia stopped and Seanchai turned to face her. “Dyrovas told her that he would be honored to offer it as his bonding present to me. That was how he proposed.”
“Did he give it to you at the bonding ceremony?”
“No,” Sellia’s voice had gone quiet. “He died a week before our celebration.”
“I’m so sorry,” Seanchai reached out to hold her, but she drew back, her eyes glistening.
“Please, let’s keep walking.”
Sellia took over the lead and set a strong pace. They walked throughout the day, stopping only to refill their water skins. Seanchai asked several times if she was okay, and she nodded or replied that she was. There was no other conversation.
As the sun began to set before them, they found another open area, a junction with a path that ran north/south. They moved to the eastern edge of the field to enjoy the setting sun. Seanchai found an upended tree stump and prepared it as a target.
Sellia collected firewood, and Seanchai gave her space. As he shot each of the six arrows that she had made for him, he reflected on the dark elfe.
They had both grieved Ilana, but Sellia had never opened up about her mate. Clearly, those wounds were still open four years later. Seanchai wanted to be there for her. He wondered if Ilana had only been thinking of him when she had made Sellia take her oath. Was she maybe also looking out for her stepsister?
It was intense, this traveling just the two of them, Seanchai thought as he nocked another arrow. He pulled back the string and, without much thought, shot his arrow straight into the bullseye. A big smile crossed his face, and he wondered if this was a good time to show Sellia.
Suddenly, another arrow, heavy with black feathers, zipped past him and thudded into the center of the target, splitting his spindly homemade arrow. Seanchai whirled round, the grin on his face growing even wider.
“Shayth!” he cried. “Rhoddan!” He ran over and hugged them both in one swoop. “Well met, my friends. Well met.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ahad watched Ruel crouch to feel the ashes. There was no smoke coming from the fire pit, and Ahad knew they were still many leagues behind. Two of their horses had gone lame–a consequence of being ridden relentlessly through stony mountain passes.
Now they walked with all the speed they could muster, stopping only to hunt and sleep. Twice, they had bought food. The peasants seemed surprised to receive payment, but Ahad had insisted.
Ruel and Crefen kept mostly to themselves. The Crown Prince was happy to talk with Ahad and, in truth, Ahad treasured their time together. If he needed anything from Ruel or Crefen, he would ask respectfully, but with authority. His requests were always within reason, and neither boy argued.
“How long, Ruel?” Phineus asked.
“Too long,” the boy replied. “It’s stone cold. We could be days behind, and we have no idea if they’re going faster or slower than we are.”
“We need horses,” Crefen growled.
“Agreed,” Ahad replied. “Any ideas?”
“There was a road back there,” Phineus said. “How about we follow the road and hope to catch some travelers?”
“And then what?” Ahad asked warily.
“We’ll pay for our steeds if that makes you feel better.”
It took a while to find the road. Almost immediately, they heard horses–many horses–and Ahad signaled for everyone to hide. At least two hundred cavalry rode hard with General Shiftan leading the banners.
“I’m glad we decided to head out by ourselves,” Phineus said to Ahad, just loud enough to be heard above the horses. “At least we had a head start on them.”
He laughed, and Ahad frowned at him. Som
etimes Ahad wasn’t sure the Crown Prince cared at all about catching the elf. “We weren’t sure whether the General had told your father you are here and how the Emperor might respond.”
“I know,” Phineus replied, and punched his friend lightly on the arm. “Take it easy. Come, let’s move fast now that we’re on the road.”
They walked quickly for another hour and came to a small village. The cavalry were literally just leaving, a cloud of dust from the other side of the village punctuating their departure.
The village had several stores and houses set back from the road. There was a stable on the left, and they entered the rickety barn. There were three emaciated horses that perked up their ears as the young men entered.
“Take them all,” the Crown Prince said. “We’ll rotate them.”
“Doubt they’ll last long, anyway,” Crefen said as he opened the paddock.
“Hey there!” An elderly voice called from the entrance.
They all turned to face an old man with snow-white hair protruding from under a straw hat, his hands on his hips.
“Can I ‘elp you, gentlemen?’ Them be my ‘orses.”
“We need them in the name of the Emperor,” Ahad said. “We’ll pay you well.”
“Them ‘orses must plow our fields. I make good money out o’ them. I does, and I ‘as the plow, too. ‘ow am I to make money wiv no horse? And who’s to say that a scruffy bunch the likes of you work for the Emperor, anyways?”
Crefen towered over the old man. “Be glad the Master Assassin here offers you coin. He doesn’t need to.”
The old man stepped back and glanced at Ahad’s cloak. Though it was dirty from the road, the farmer recognized the insignia. Still, he shook his head. “I-I needs the money. I needs to plow.”
“You don’t need to plow,” the Crown Prince snapped at him. “Are you simple? We’re giving you more money than you’ll ever earn from plowing.”
“But all I knows is plowing,” the old man whined.
Phineus swore in frustration, and Crefen swung a fist that sent the old man reeling. He dropped and didn’t move. Crefen went to help his brother with the horses. Ahad stared, his mouth hanging open. Then he went to the old man and checked for a pulse. The old man stirred at Ahad’s touch.
“Don’t move, old man,” Ahad said. “We must take your horses because the empire is in great danger. I’m leaving you enough money for a few winters and to buy more horses. Perhaps you can even hire a boy to plow for you so you can rest more.
Ahad pushed some coins into the farmer’s jacket pocket and patted his chest.
“Why don’t you go tuck him into bed?” Crefen jeered and laughed as he passed Ahad leading a horse.
“Shame we’re short on time. You could’ve plowed a field for him,” his brother added, following behind with the other two horses.
“There’s no fields here,” Crefen called over his shoulder, “only rocks and dust.”
Phineus laughed as he followed them. Seeing Ahad frowning, he patted his friend on his shoulder. “You have no sense of humor,” he said.
Ahad grabbed his arm and hissed, trying to ensure the old farmer could not hear. “Crefen and Ruel are cruel thugs. That is one of your subjects lying there. You are the Crown Prince of Odessiya.”
“You paid him, and we’re in a hurry. You did him a favor, I’m sure. He might never have to work again.”
“We didn’t just take his horses. We took his livelihood and his dignity.”
“We need his horses,” Phineus said, now serious.
“And there was a better way to take them. He could have lived out his days telling people how he helped a royal family member.” Ahad stared at him, fighting to keep his voice low. “Be the Crown Prince, Phineus.”
“You need not remind me of my station, Master Assassin,” Phineus replied, his voice suddenly cold and his face twisted in anger. “Now, you are touching royalty. That is forbidden. Take your hand off of me.”
Phineus stalked out of the barn, mounted a horse and galloped off by himself.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ahad mounted the other horse and rode with Ruel and Crefen after the Crown Prince. Phineus had not gone far when he stopped, seeing the army settling down to camp ahead. It was almost dusk, and guards would soon be posted.
The Crown Prince dismounted and led his horse on a path that stretched between two hills. The others followed suit without question. It took them an hour to go around the army camp, and now they had to decide whether or not to camp so close to the soldiers.
Ahad was going to suggest that they keep going, as General Shiftan might send out scouts, but he was not consulted on the matter. Phineus jumped back on his horse and spurred it forward. When Ahad jumped back on his, Crefen looked over.
“Let’s follow at a distance. Whatever stupid thing you said, he needs space.”
Ahad nodded and let Crefen set the pace. They rode in the darkness, keeping their eyes on the road. He began to doze in his saddle, until shouts and the sound of steel on steel jolted him awake.
Crefen’s horse was already at full gallop as Ahad and Ruel spurred their horses on. Without regard for danger, they charged into a group of men who had Phineus backed against a rock.
In the moonlit darkness, Phineus’s blade flew at great speed. Already there were three men down, and the two others were having a hard time. Crefen crashed his horse into one of the men, sending him flying. The other hesitated long enough for Phineus to pin him against the rock and headbutt him. There was a loud crunch and Ahad was sure the man’s nose was broken.
Ahad moved the Crown Prince away and held his blade to the man’s throat.
“You okay, Shadow?” He asked Phineus, glancing to see if his friend was wounded, but though Phineus was panting, and beads of sweat poured down his head, he was smiling.
“I was just asking these gentlemen for information. I told them they would be paid well, and they thought they could take all my money without a transaction.” He glanced at the bloody man. “Not a good business model, as you can see.”
“Do you even carry money?” Ahad asked.
“No.”
“Did you tell them that?”
Phineus just smiled. “I neglected to tell them that I don’t carry the money, and I neglected to tell them that you were all behind me.” Then he turned to the man, and his voice went cold. “Tell me how far we are from the Cliftean Pass, and I might spare your life.”
“N-not far, my lord,” the man gasped, and told them it was reachable with two days of hard riding. “S-spare me. I will tell you more. You ain’t the o-only ones who asked.”
“A man and an elf?” Phineus asked immediately.
“N-no sir. A youth with s-spiky black hair, two pointies, one was female and dark-skinned, beautiful i-if you go for ‘em. There was a fourth. He was huge and wore his cowl tight so I couldn’t see his face. Well-armed, they were too.”
“How far ahead of us are they?” Phineus asked.
“Was a c-couple of days back, but they’s on foot, master.”
“Thank you,” Phineus said, and slit the man’s throat.
Blood spurted onto the rock while the man gurgled and fell to the ground. Ahad stared at his friend.
“You told me to act my part, Ahad. He dared to attack royalty. This is it. Some may have tortured him first for fun. I was being royally civil.”
As the sun rose behind them, Seanchai, Sellia, and Shayth crawled up onto a ridge and looked down into a valley. No one looking up would have seen them through the blinding sunlight. Rhoddan had retraced their route to see if they were being followed.
There was sheer rock on the other side, except for the opening directly across from where they lay. They had reached the Cliftean Pass, the westernmost point of Odessiya.
The group had been here before, but Seanchai had not crossed. Instead, he had headed north and discovered the dwarves. He glanced toward the Bordan mountain range. It was dark and sinister, the peaks engu
lfed in cloud.
This time, however, Seanchai was determined to get through the pass. He was absorbed with the idea that he would meet free elves. He was convinced there would be at least one other Wycaan there. Otherwise, why would Mhari have instructed him seek them out? But he had not considered how to get around the soldiers.
“There are so many,” Sellia whispered.
“I reckon at least two thousand, judging by the tents and fire pits,” Shayth said, squinting to see as well as the keener-sighted elves.
“There’s more beyond,” Seanchai said, scrying, his eyes glazed and his voice distant.
Rhoddan ran up. “We need to move,” he panted. “There are soldiers on their way. Come. I’ve found a cave.”
They crawled back off the ridge and jogged behind Rhoddan. He backtracked about ten minutes, and then moved north. A short while later, they sat in a small cave, eating dried meat and apples and discussing how to get through the pass.
“What about a distraction?” Rhoddan asked. “Shayth and I attack them, and they chase us. Easy.”
Sellia stared at him. “How are you going to get thousands of soldiers to jump up and chase your shadows?”
Rhoddan shrugged.
“Wait!” Seanchai stared at Sellia. “What did you just say? Chasing shadows?”
“It’s just a phrase, Seanchai,” she replied, but he was curling up his lips and mouthing something. “What is it?”
Seanchai looked up. “There’s a rock over there, about a hundred paces from the mouth of the cave. I want you to wait here for at least a half hour. Then come looking for me. I won’t be far from there. If you don’t see me, hoot like an owl a few times. You can hoot, right, Rhoddan?”
Rhoddan nodded. “I’m not sure there are many owls that would agree with you.”
Seanchai was too excited to laugh. He took a long swig of water and then went out to the rock, his cloak wrapped around him. Closing his eyes, he went through his meditation exercises, relaxing his body and emptying his mind.