Wycaan Master: Book 03 - Ashbar

by Alon Shalev

  “I didn’t know you were religious,” Sellia remarked.

  “Only tonight,” Shayth replied. “Come, Rhoddan. Let’s move to a better place to watch.” They would create a distraction if anything went awry.

  Seanchai continued to murmur the word and summon the darkness to them. Taking Sellia’s hand, for reassurance as much as anything else, he led her forward.

  Two guards stood at the entrance to the camp. There was also a clumsy barricade of logs that one could bypass on either side.

  One guard was sitting on a tree stump on the left, smoking a pipe. The other stood by him, staring out toward the two elves. A wave of panic rose inside Seanchai, but Sellia gently stroked his hand and guided him across the road. The sentry showed no sign that he had noticed them.

  They passed by the logs around the other side and continued walking. Seanchai squeezed Sellia’s hand in excitement, but never ceased to mouth the word: Chashichot. Chashichot. Chashichot. He began to feel comfortable with the energy and how it responded to his voice and his direction while he mentally maintained a field around them.

  They passed a series of tents, and Sellia guided him into the middle of the road. They did not want someone to exit a tent and bump into them. As they reached the center of the camp, they crossed the main road. A group of cavalry galloped up and stopped a few feet from them.

  Seanchai froze, and again, Sellia guided him away from the horses. They stood listening. The officer gave orders to his troops, and then told them that he was going to General Shiftan’s command tent to report in.

  After the horsemen had passed, the elves continued. This area was more crowded making it particularly difficult to negotiate. There was an infirmary on their left and considerable activity within a big white tent where the officer entered. Inside was an eating area with dozens of tables and benches. Smoke rose from a connected tent, probably the kitchens.

  As they passed the mouth of the tent, Seanchai saw a table with a model on it. There were many men in armor, and a white-cloaked figure, deep in discussion, who abruptly turned his head. Seanchai could not see anything inside the cowl, but he was convinced the figure had seen them. He felt his blood freeze.

  He quickened his pace, and Sellia squeezed his hand. They both looked back. The white figure and an officer had stepped outside. The officer was still talking, but the white-cloaked figure was staring in their direction.

  Seanchai continued to murmur the word with greater vigor, hoping that the blackness would deepen. They were in the Cliftean Pass now, the rock face rising on both sides and the well-worn road giving way to a stony path.

  The elf could see soldiers sleeping in various holes in the rocks. He led Sellia past two tents from where a cacophony of snores exited. There would be more soldiers ahead.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. The white-cloaked figure was now walking after them with two huge soldiers on either side of him. It didn’t seem that he was chasing them, but. . . Seanchai knew the figure had felt his presence.

  He dared not increase his pace for fear that either Sellia or he would trip on the stony path. One of the soldiers behind him barked out.

  “Sentries! General Shiftan wants you on your feet, pacing. Quick to it, men!”

  Two soldiers stood up immediately and began pacing. Two more crawled out of blankets and jumped to their feet when they saw the entourage behind Seanchai. The elf was sweating, his hand clammy in Sellia’s grip.

  Seanchai timed their walk past two guards perfectly, and they were through. He looked back and saw the officers had reached the sentries. He breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it.

  “Archers!” came the cry from behind him. “Light the tips of your arrows. Watch them fall and report anything strange in their trajectory.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Archers! Fire!”

  Seanchai quickened his pace. He could hear the arrows whistling behind him and the thuds as they landed. He had no idea whether this darkness would be impervious to fire, and it was ruining his night vision.

  Sellia gasped quietly as an arrow landed very close. A second passed just over them. A third landed on top of them. It bounced off and extinguished. Surely they were almost out of range now, but the arrows seemed more concentrated in their direction than they were before.

  When a second arrow hit and bounced off of them, they heard the cry. “Over there! Shoot in that direction.” More arrows. Were the archers moving forward?

  Seanchai heard pounding hooves and, again, his blood went cold. Suddenly, he hit against something in front of him. It felt like a barrier, cold and flexible, but firm.

  “Keep summoning the darkness,” Sellia hissed.

  She must have sensed it, too. He repeated the words and sent the darkness up against the barrier. There was a feeling like two energies fusing together. More arrows screeched overhead, and hooves continued to gallop.

  Instinctively, he threw back his hood, revealing his hair. He flicked it behind his ears, exposing their tips. He turned and did the same to Sellia. Nothing happened, though he felt a shimmer in the energy of the barrier.

  The arrows had stopped, but the cavalry’s hooves were getting louder. Seanchai’s mind raced. He had to keep up the darkness, but he needed to get in.

  Go back to the stories, Mhari had told him. In times of stress, go back to the stories. Seanchai stopped calling the darkness and, as the energy shrank from him, he lifted his head. He didn’t understand the words that came from his mouth, but he knew what he was saying. They were from a famous story he had heard dozens of times from his mother when he was a child going to bed. But now he spoke them in the ancient language.

  Here walks one of the Wycaan Order. I bring the peace of my people, the wisdom of my teachers, the healing of the land. I. . . will. . . enter.

  And with absolutely certainty, Seanchai walked through the barrier and pulled Sellia after him.

  “Do you think it was him, my lord?”

  “Yes, General Shiftan, I do.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It is difficult to explain. The earth is a web of magic and energy. When something disturbs that web, the shimmers ripple out like a drop of water in a lake.”

  The Emperor continued to stare into the dawn light, and General Shiftan tried to fathom his thoughts.

  “My lord. With your permission, I will lead a regiment after him. He’ll not go far under such cover, will he? It must take effort to conceal himself like that. I could continue to track him–”

  “Thank you, General Shiftan. But you know not what lies beyond.”

  “Someone needs to find out, surely? Has anyone tried to go beyond?”

  General Shiftan looked up into the white cowl that covered the Emperor’s head. He wished he could discern his lord’s expressions. But the Emperor kept himself concealed, as always.

  “Across this plain, few have ventured and even fewer returned. There’s a barrier woven of powerful and ancient elf magic, where we lost track of them. Only the selected pass through. I, myself, ventured forth in my younger days.”

  The Emperor went silent, and Shiftan waited patiently. A soldier approached and asked if he should call up reinforcements. A slight shake of his ruler’s head told the soldier what he needed.

  “Leave a security detail,” General Shiftan instructed, “and tell them to retreat another fifty paces.”

  “General Shiftan, sir,” the soldier responded standing straight. “Begging your pardon sir, ain’t safe t–”

  “You have your orders,” Shiftan replied in a voice curter than he would have wanted. He softened his tone. “I appreciate your concern, Janos.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted and turned away.

  “They’re extremely loyal to you, General Shiftan. It is a rare trait. General Tarlach had his soldiers’ respect, but they also feared him.”

  “General Tarlach was a close friend of mine and a most capable officer,” Shiftan replied.

  “Yes. Bu
t his mistakes allowed the Wycaan to get to where he is. And that, my good general, is a most worrying predicament. If they accept him, then he may well return a powerful adversary. Too powerful.”

  “Let me go after him, my lord?”

  “He is beyond your reach now.”

  Shiftan thought for a moment. “Who are they, milord?”

  “Good question, General Shiftan. Good question.”

  “But you said that you have passed through the boundaries. Who did you meet?”

  “That is difficult to say. I never saw anyone, but I was aware of them, and they communicated with me. It felt as though the trees were talking, but I think those living beyond the pass spoke through the trees–through the entire forest. Have you heard of the Elves of the West, General Shiftan?”

  “Children’s stories, no?”

  The Emperor did not answer and they stood together a while longer, each lost in thought. Finally, Shiftan spoke. “What are your orders, milord?”

  “Fortify this pass, my friend. Prepare to repel an invasion. Whether it will be a whole army or one elf, we must be ready. I will leave that to you. Now, I want to find my son before he and Ahad confront my nephew.”

  “Do you think Shayth can best Ahad and the Crown Prince now that he doesn’t have the Wycaan with him?” Shiftan was surprised.

  The Emperor turned and though he could not see his liege’s eyes, Shiftan sensed a father’s fear for his son. When the Emperor spoke, his voice was harsh and cold. “I have no intention of finding out.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Seanchai led Sellia across the wide valley floor in silence. It looked similar to other places on their journey, but it felt different. It seemed cleaner, somehow, Seanchai thought–less inhabited, less spoiled.

  They headed for a mass of dark green forest before them. Seanchai was excited at the prospect of being back among trees–a place he where he had felt safe as a child. “Seanchai, look!” Sellia said from behind him. He turned and saw she was pointing at a huge herd of. . . what looked like very big, brown cows. Their hides were covered in thick, shaggy fur, and many had horns that spread out wide before arching forward.

  Sellia began to take off her bow, but Seanchai stayed her.

  “We don’t know the rules yet,” he said, “and we’re being watched. This might be a test.”

  Sellia looked around and saw no one. “How do you know we’re being watched?”

  “I just do,” he replied testily.

  “As you wish.” Sellia shrugged and replaced her bow on her shoulder. “But I hope the test includes refreshments at some point.”

  “We have food in our bags,” Seanchai said.

  “Yes, but anything that won’t spoil should be kept for when we’re on the run and don’t have time to hunt.”

  “I know.” Seanchai continued walking. “For now, I think we can make the forest by nightfall.”

  He was wrong. After a couple more hours, the ground became increasingly marshy. Seanchai was still leading and stopped a little way in. A mist was coming out to meet them and, while wispy on the edges, it seemed thicker and more imposing in the middle.

  “Sellia,” he whispered, though he did not know what compelled him to keep his voice down. “This might be a test, as well. It feels strange and. . . wrong.”

  He took a small cord out of his pack that he had hoped to use for fishing at some point. He turned and told Sellia to tie it to the front of her belt and the back of his, connecting them. Sellia frowned but did not argue.

  As they walked further into the dark marsh, the fog engulfed them. Fire flared and just as quickly disappeared, playing with their vision. Seanchai decided to follow the flames in the hope that they were beacons meant to lead them through the marsh.

  He began to hear voices pleading for help from. . . underneath. He looked down and then jerked his head up again. He turned and saw Sellia staring down, transfixed on the voices.

  “Sellia! Sellia!” He touched her chin, but she did not respond. Her skin felt cold and clammy. He shook her face, and she glared at him. “Don’t look, and don’t listen.”

  “I can’t help it,” her voice was distant and weak.

  “Hold my hand,” he encouraged. “Try humming a song.”

  Seanchai felt a cold chill as Sellia squeezed his hand and began mumbling a tune to herself. But she was shaking now and incoherent. He stopped again and ripped an edge off his shirt and stuffed two crumpled-up pieces into her ears. Then he tied a longer piece around her eyes.

  She tried to stop him, but her attempts were feeble, and he kept speaking gently to her even though he didn’t think she was focused on what he was saying.

  His fear rose. He took a deep, grounding breath and, holding Sellia’s hand, kept moving forward. The voices around him were desperate, frightened, resigned, and defeated.

  Go back. Go back now while you still. . . Take me. . . Don’t leave us, we can’t. . . Go back. . . It’s not too late, but it will be. . . You cannot get through. . . You aren’t welcome. . . Go back. . . Take me with you. . . Help me. . . Help me.

  Seanchai fought not to look down, not to stop, not to turn around. He focused on the face of his teacher and her gray-silver hair, wrinkles, and piercing blue eyes.

  This worked for a while, but gradually, the desperate cries around him seeped through. He tried to recall Mhari’s lessons, and when this failed, he focused on his breathing exercises. Pulling energy up from the marshes felt different, almost alien.

  He felt a cold current course through his body. He considered stopping, but the sensation helped block out the voices, and he became increasingly certain of their direction.

  Seanchai squeezed Sellia’s sweaty hand, and she responded, gripping him tightly. She was struggling, and he tried to stroke the hand he was holding with his thumb.

  At one point, she tried to let go of him, and he tightened his fingers around her hand. Sellia whimpered. Whatever she was going through must be intense. Usually, Sellia was so tough.

  Seanchai stopped walking and turned around. He reached out with his mind and felt her telepathically grab him in a desperate hug. He embraced her, pulled her into his mental grasp, and quieted her. They stood still for a few minutes, Seanchai pouring energy into her. Her breathing calmed, her grip became less frenzied, and she cleared her throat.

  “Thank you,” she panted. “I’m ready to go on.”

  They continued for another hour before the ground became firmer and the voices disappeared. It was still gray around them, but now it felt like a natural dusk instead of artificial darkness. The forest loomed up before them. Seanchai untied Sellia’s blindfold and the cord that connected them. She fell into his arms, and they held each other tight.

  “That was intense,” she said when they pulled back. “You were amazing. I feel like. . . I feel,” she chewed her lip, searching for the right words. “You were so strong, so constant. How come you weren’t afraid?”

  Seanchai stroked her cheek and smiled. “Come,” he said. “I think the worst part is behind us.”

  He was wrong.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  In the forest, they quickly chose to camp under a huge tree with a flat, tuberous trunk. The tree had smooth bark, and Seanchai felt it exuding great energy as he stroked it. He felt safe and suggested they both sleep without posting guard.

  “No,” Sellia said. “We almost had our lives sucked out of us back there. I’m not convinced whoever’s watching us is on our side.”

  “We had better hope they are,” Seanchai replied, “because this forest is ancient and imbued with energy. I think those who live here draw their strength from this powerful source.”

  “Well, that’s a comforting thought you’ve used to send an elfe to sleep.”

  Seanchai laughed as he spread out the bearskin. “Okay. You sleep first shift. I will do my exercises and try to learn some more about what we might encounter and where we’re headed.”

  “Are you going to be able to st
ay up?” Sellia asked, failing to suppress a yawn.

  Seanchai patted the bearskin and she came over and lay down. He kissed her forehead as her eyes closed. “You were amazing back there,” she mumbled as she fell asleep.

  Seanchai rose and assumed the first standing position, scrying the perimeter of their camp. There were many signs of life, but they seemed to be small animals, birds and insects. He let go and allowed his body to direct him through the positions.

  As his breathing deepened, he felt his body regenerate as though it was growing a new layer of internal skin. He felt energy pulsate through his legs, into his loins and stomach, and up through his chest to his arms. His mind became both calm and invigorated. Thoughts and fears crystallized into understanding.

  When the moon was above him, he stretched and came out of his exercises. He was brimming with energy and drew his Win Dao swords to make the most of it. He went through the moves that Mhari had taught him, and then through others that he had developed on the road. As his blades moved faster, they moved almost of their own volition in ways he had never used them. It felt as though the swords were directing him, and he felt as though he could do anything.

  At one point, as both swords came swirling down to his left, he kicked his legs out first with the right and then the left. It was a move he had imagined doing but never thought he actually could. Now it had come to him unbidden and he felt exhilarated.

  Panting from exertion, he began to wonder if this was due to the vibrancy of the trees or another test. He felt a strong instinct to ground the energy and, though tempted to continue, went through his series of stretching exercises to center himself. Then he sat on a log on the other side of the clearing from where Sellia was sleeping and took out the pipe he had received from Thorminsk. He had not smoked it often. While on the run, the scent of burning herbal leaves could give away their position, and among the dwarves underground, he had shied away from the stone caverns filled with the dense smoke of hundreds of dwarves puffing on their pipes.