Elfsorrow lotr-1

by James Barclay

  Deciding sleep would be a long time coming, Erienne settled back and tried to examine the One magic that already seethed within her, barely checked but not yet even fully awakened. Tuning her eyes further into the mana spectrum to give her a clearer view, she could see the deep brown of the One, delicate strands upsetting the random flow of the mana around it. Where mana normally flowed through everything, it was repelled by the One yet drawn to it at the same time. Unchecked, she could well imagine the devastation a full awakening of the One would wreak on a defenceless mind and in the world around because as it drew and expelled the mana it gained in intensity.

  Watching the gossamer strands gradually thickening gave her an idea. She traced them down to their source within her consciousness, to the dark pulsating entity she thought of as the heart of the One. Forcing the strands back with her mind as she had been trying wouldn't work, she could see that now. Instead, Erienne wove a pattern with the mana around them, using the attractive and repulsive elements to funnel the strands back on themselves, making loops that fed back directly into the pulsing core.

  Almost at once its energy lessened as it was forced into relative dormancy, feeding only on itself. At the same time Erienne felt a wave of tiredness travel through her. She could partition her mind to maintain the simple mana shape that blocked the One strands but it would drain her slowly.

  She snuggled up to Denser, feeling the comfort of his gently moving body as he slept. He stirred a little at her touch, then stilled.

  It is a lesson consummately learned. You are a very talented mage. Cleress's voice, soothing and quiet, stole into her mind.

  Erienne's instant irritation at the intrusion was replaced by relief that the Al-Drechar were still with her.

  I wondered if you'd be watching, she replied. But don't push your luck.

  You must learn to control the One without us as soon as you can. Tonight you understood a tiny part of that control.

  Meaning?

  That what you felt were the merest tendrils of the potential of the One magic. Myriell was holding back the tide with you.

  Erienne blanked for a moment. How small a force was I being exposed to just then?

  Perhaps a thousandth, said Cleress. Minuscule.

  Erienne gasped. And she had felt that energy easily enough and seen it feed and strengthen.

  How could I ever hope to control or use the whole?

  You cannot. No one can, not even us. We will teach you to keep the mass dormant so that it becomes second nature, and to use only that which you need. It is a tightrope but you have the ability. Now do you begin to understand?

  What? But Erienne knew exactly what the old elf meant.

  Lyanna could never hope to contain it. She was too young even to weave the simple mana shape you just employed. Erienne, the One returned to rest when it transferred to you. In Lyanna, it was fully awakened. By the time we met her it was already too late. The Dordovans had set something in motion that was unstoppable.

  You still let her die, said Erienne, but her hatred was fading.

  We really did have no choice, Cleress's voice pleaded inside her. As a host for the One, Lyanna was doomed, Erienne. And she would have killed us all before she died in torment had we not effected the transfer.

  By 'us' you mean the Al-Drechar.

  Initially, said Cleress. But you've seen how the One feeds on the elements around it. And you know what the uncontrolled power can do hundreds of miles distant. Before it killed her, the One would have gorged itself further, making the destruction you witnessed seem as nothing.

  All right! snapped Erienne.

  Transferring the One to you was the only way to stop it but keep it alive.

  Yes, I-Erienne broke off, considering for a moment. And what if I hadn't been there to host it?

  We would have had to extinguish it, said Cleress, her tone leaden. And we couldn't afford to do that.

  Erienne froze, all thought of sleep gone. She opened her eyes and looked down on Denser, still sleeping beside her.

  There's something I have to know, she said, fearing the answer. Could you have extinguished the One and kept my daughter alive? Her heart thudded in the silence inside her mind. Could you?

  Cleress sighed. It was possible, she said eventually.

  Thank you for your honesty, said Erienne, feeling her strength collapse. Now get the fuck out of my head.

  Erienne, no-

  And take your senile witch sister with you.

  Erienne, please-

  Get out. Now.

  I'm afraid we can't do that, Erienne. It was Myriell, voice strong, with no hint of sympathy.

  Erienne felt her mind filling with a fury she had no desire to quell, her grief washing over her again as if Lyanna had died just there and then.

  Go. Your touch sickens me. She could barely get her thoughts in order.

  It had to be that way, said Myriell.

  You let her die for an experiment. She could still be alive. The tears were falling down Erienne's cheeks and her body was rocking where she sat in the bed. She could still be alive.

  And countless numbers would now be consigned to death with no one and nothing to save them. This was no experiment.

  Don't give me that. You're lying.

  First it would have been all the elves, next everyone on Balaia, said Myriell, like she was listing goods on a cart. And we mean everyone.

  Go.

  We will not.

  You're lying. Lyanna died two seasons before the Elfsorrow took its first victim. Erienne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Just what exactly am I supposed to be able to do with this curse inside me? March to Xetesk and take back what they stole with my overwhelming power? Think I'm stupid? You want the One for yourselves. To perpetuate what you have. I'm your legacy and that's all. Don't try and make me into a saviour.

  Erienne, you have to listen to me, said Myriell. Will you do that?

  I don't appear to have much choice.

  Erienne felt used. More like a mere receptacle for the One than a saviour of nations. And helpless with it. Because the One was awakening, and though she wanted the Al-Drechar out of her head she knew she couldn't survive without them. For now, at least.

  Please don't think of it like that, urged Cleress, her tone so much softer than her sister's.

  How the hell else do you expect me to think? Talk if you must. I'm listening.

  Myriell's voice filled her mind once more.

  The One opens pathways. Lets you see outlines of possible futures if you know what to look for and if you study for long enough. And we have had all the time in the world to study. There was a sadness to Myriell's voice now, its stridency gone. Before we were even aware of Lyanna, we feared for Balaia. The stress in the mana over the colleges was critical. So much mistrust, so much risk of destructive power being unleashed. And then Lyanna came along as an answer to our prayers. A girl strong in the One can do so much good.

  And as we watched the world through the flow of the mana and harmony, we saw more danger signs, more potential for darkness. It was already apparent a crisis of huge proportions was coming. We could almost taste it. But even we were surprised at its scale and swiftness.

  Yes, we could possibly have saved Lyanna but the risk in losing the new birth of the One magic was too great. And though we are distraught at the loss of your daughter, we have been proved right. What we see is never certain at the outset but there is always a sense of good or evil, and what we had sensed was so terribly bleak.

  Erienne, you must remain strong, you must accept more power and you must remain alive. When the statue of Yniss was bound into the harmony of the elves thousands of years ago, it was done using the One magic. When the fragment is returned, the process must be repeated. We cannot travel to Calaius so you must be our channel. No one else can do that.

  I am sorry for the burden this places on you.

  Myriell had stopped speaking for some time before the roaring in Erienne's ears died away.r />
  And if you'd chosen to save Lyanna?

  Nothing could have saved the elves and finding the thumb would have been futile.

  What do I need to learn? said Erienne.

  Later. Sleep now. We will withdraw from your conscious mind for a while, let you think in peace.

  You're too kind.

  I really am sorry, Erienne, said Cleress.

  Don't bother, either of you. We'll do what we have to do together but I would advise you never to assume any of my grief. Whatever your reasons, you let her die. You had better be proved right as you claim.

  Erienne felt the Al-Drechar fade in the form of a quietness enveloping her mind. They were still there, keeping control of the One entity, but Erienne felt no comfort in that. She felt none of the enormity of what the Al-Drechar had told her. Maybe that would come when she had time to consider it. One thing she did know was that it wouldn't change the way she acted with The Raven. And the first thing she had to do was tell them.

  She looked down at Denser, wondering whether to wake him but finding she didn't have to. He was lying there looking up at her, a frown creasing his forehead. He reached out a hand and rubbed her lower back.

  'What is it, love?'

  Erienne opened her mouth to speak but instead a wave of sorrow broke over her. It was a long time before she was able to tell him what was wrong. Auum sniffed the air of his first dawn on Balaia and didn't care for it much. It was dry and chill, without the mists he was used to, the growing heat or the ever-present threat of rain followed by the glorious cleansing downpour. He felt exposed without the closeness of the trees, and though the landscape he looked at was green and healthy, to Auum it looked blasted. His sharp eyes recoiled at the brightness of the dawn in which he could see rolling plains, a range of mountains far smaller than those now behind them, and a collection of dwellings, fenced and still.

  A wind blew above the Tai where they sat, backs to a low rise, a fire in front of them, rabbits roasting on spits above the flames. They'd travelled quickly the afternoon before, Rebraal's descriptions and the position of the sun providing the information they needed. They knew what they were looking for. Their path was to travel north and east, past the Balan Mountains they currently faced, track to the west of a forest known as Thornewood, and then head north-east to pick up the trail which connected the port of Arlen in the far south with the college cities in the north.

  There were signs that all was not well on Balaia. Rebraal had told them the land was fertile if bleak and open, with great swathes of evergreen and deciduous forest punctuating the rolling landscape. However, all they had seen so far were stunted boughs and some new growth as if, years before, a great hand had swatted the trees flat. They had also passed a hamlet late the evening before. It had been deserted, the buildings wrecked and stripped of timbers.

  Auum turned to his Tai. They, like him, had their light cloaks tight around their bodies but could still feel the cold away from the fire.

  'It will warm,' said Auum.

  'Small wonder their Gods have forsaken this place and none worship the ancients,' said Duele, warming his hands over the flames.

  'You are fit to run?' asked Auum. Both elves nodded. 'And run we will, if only to warm our bodies. But first prayer and food.'

  Auum led them in prayers to Yniss and Gyal to keep them safe in the wilderness of Balaia, and to Tual to keep their senses sharp though the rainforest was far away. They did not paint their faces. They did not anticipate combat yet, not for days, and in this land they had to be careful not to waste their paints. Where would they find the materials for more?

  'Are we covered for the route?' asked Evunn, biting into a scrawny roasted rabbit.

  'Other Tai and ClawBound will track to the south of Greythorne and as far west and north as Understone and the pass beneath the mountains there. Our meet point with the southern trackers is the northern tip of Thornewood. There we can assess enemy strength and plan accordingly. Opportunities to kill are to be taken by any of us. The Al-Arynaar will also meet us there. And, if it is so decided, we will wait for the others. They're three days behind us at present but will travel directly to the meet.'

  'And have the ClawBound recovered, do you think?' asked Duele.

  Auum blew out his cheeks. 'We pray to Tual to calm their minds but the sea journey was least kind of all to them. But, like us, the feel of the land, whatever land, is like the touch of menispere leaves on a fevered brow.'

  They all smiled at that. For a race born to forests and sluggish rivers, the days on the gently rolling ship, lost in the vast openness of the sea, had been purgatory. Below they felt sick, on deck nothing short of scared. And though this land was alien and unpleasant, for the first hours at least it had felt good simply because it was not the sea. Only now, in a new dawn, did they really begin to see where they were.

  Auum bade them hurry to ready themselves and the Tai set off at a trot, bows slung on backs, swords and jaqrui sheathed. They moved quickly as the sun gained in strength, repeatedly looking up at its majesty in a blue sky unhindered by the endless but comforting canopy.

  With the foothills of the Balan Mountains just ahead and the sun approaching its zenith, Auum slowed suddenly, his Tai responding. They were running through a scrub-filled shallow valley at the base of which a river burbled southwards. Trees flung their branches out across the valley floor and for a few precious moments they could have been back in the forest.

  Ahead, through the trees, the valley flattened out and a handful of dwellings were grouped on the level ground. They were poorly constructed as if built in a rush or by those with no skill. Auum could see three people just away from the buildings, kneeling over the body of a fourth.

  He nodded left and right and his Tai moved off soundlessly, Auum taking the centre. He had instructed minimal contact with Balaians. Elves could be approached but only because they might understand what was asked of them. Auum could smell fear ahead, and the tone of the voices backed up his instinct.

  He crept to the edge of the cover, Duele and Evunn ten yards to either side, and looked out. About twenty yards away, on the bank of the river that now gushed shallow over rocks, the strangers huddled. From the houses he could see bows pointed and at the end of the ramshackle hamlet three men stood with swords drawn, looking away north. Auum concentrated on the scene in front of him, seeing one of the people, a woman, take a bloody cloth to the river and rinse it. On the ground, the injured man lay quite still as the cloth was reapplied to the side of his face.

  Auum looked left and right, the nods he received telling him they had seen everything they needed to. He gestured a gentle push with both arms, stood and walked from cover, his hands loose by his sides and clearly visible. They were spotted at once, an urgent shout causing heads to turn and the swordsmen to come running. To his right, Duele was covering the archers. Auum didn't believe they would fire, and given the shaking of the bows in their hands, they were likely to miss if they did.

  Auum let the swordsmen come to him and Evunn, who closed in on his left. They grouped ahead loosely, unsure what to do. One of them held up a hand and shouted. Auum stopped and pointed at the stricken man by the water's edge.

  'I would help this man,' he said in the hope that one of these strangers understood common elvish. Their blank expressions told him they did not.

  The three swordsmen spanned as many generations. Their blades were dull with neglect, their clothing shabby and patched cloth and fur. Auum could see hardship in their eyes and the effects of starvation in the slackness of their stances, their bony hands and hollow cheeks. He moved again and the swords were raised. He thought hard, fighting for the word in Balaian. He had heard one of the strangers on ship say it.

  Auum pointed again. 'Help.' His mouth twisted as he pronounced.

  The face of one of the men darkened, he mouthed a stream of gibberish and gestured threateningly with his sword. To Auum's right, Duele tensed but immediately relaxed as his leader made a minute movemen
t with his hand. Auum knew he should back away but his decision was made, and unless he was very much mistaken he knew how the injured man had become so. And he was unused to being baulked.

  He pointed a third time. 'I, help.' And he made to take a pace left. Immediately, one of the swordsmen stood in his way. His blade moved too close. Auum stepped inside his guard, blocked the sword arm away and smashed the base of his palm into the man's chest, knocking him from his feet. Another of the men moved but Auum's gaze stayed his action.

  'Keep an eye,' said Auum to Duele. 'I will see if we were right.'

  He walked over to the group around the injured man, ignoring the threatening raised voices.

  The instinctive bunching around their fallen comrade loosened as Auum approached the two women and a man. He waved them aside, speaking the word again. Whether they understood him or not was unclear but he certainly scared them enough even though he was still unarmed.

  He ignored their worried, angry stares and knelt by the man's head, moving the bloody cloth to reveal a trio of deep gashes torn down the left side of his head. Another set had flashed across his chest but these were not as deep and the bleeding not bad. ClawBound.

  He turned to Duele, who stood easily in front of the uncertain swordsmen; the one Auum had knocked down had regained his feet and was rubbing at his chest. Nothing would be broken, he hadn't hit him hard enough.

  'The ClawBound's minds are not yet clear,' said Auum. 'The panther has hurt this man but they aren't killing blows, just warnings.'

  'These are not from Xetesk, then?'

  Auum shook his head. 'They have no magic. Look around. They're barely alive. And scared. You can see how this could happen.'

  The TaiGethen had no feelings whatever for these strangers but it was important to sense the mindset of the ClawBound. It gave them a problem. If this was typical, then the peerless trackers would be unpredictable, even a little careless, as had been the case here.

  Auum unslung his sack and took out his herb pouches. He broke off some legumia bark, stood and walked away to the fire that burned in the centre of the settlement. Water in a pan bubbled on it and he scooped out a mugful, dropping the legumia into it to soften and infuse. He knew they were all looking at him. They amused him, these strangers who presumed themselves superior to forest-dwelling elves but knew nothing about how to bathe a wound and stop infection at its source. A bloody cloth rinsed in a stream would do more harm than good.