The Raven Collection
Page 179
Calling on everything he had left, Yron dragged another breath into his protesting lungs and ran on.
Rebraal wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. He knew he was lying down but had no idea if he was floating or not. He fought his mind, tried to drive it to think, but all he got were snatches of scenes of which he wasn’t even sure he’d been a part. Of ClawBound carrying him. Of Mercuun crying out. Of the rain pouring across his face and of people crowding, looking down on him and frowning.
He was inside, he thought. It was dark. But maybe that was because he couldn’t see. He felt hot. Very hot. He could smell the scents of menispere, casimir and of pokeweed mixing in the still air. And he’d felt the touch of a spell, too, though he might have dreamed that also. It was so hard to tell.
A shaft of light stabbed through the darkness and he realised at least he wasn’t blind. A face swam into view in front of his and leant over. It was fuzzy and he didn’t recognise it but he could see the smile that didn’t mask the concern. She spoke words but he couldn’t hear them, only a murmur as if he was underwater. He tried to move his head but his neck was locked and pain scorched down his back and across his shoulders.
She pressed her arms on his chest and shook her head. She was quite old, he thought. He wanted to speak. He knew his mouth was open and moving but whatever tumbled out was not understood. Maybe they were both speaking underwater. The random thought amused him.
Cool on his forehead. Wet. He opened eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed and saw her dabbing him with a cloth. It felt good but the burning soon came back. He wanted to touch her but his arms were leaden. He wanted her to know he was thankful but he was locked inside himself.
A second figure joined them. Another woman. Younger. She laid her hands on his shoulder. She was talking too, and as she did the ache that hammered there diminished to nothing and a gentle warmth suffused his body. He thought he saw them withdraw but then wasn’t sure if they’d been there at all.
He closed his eyes and the nightmares came.
The TaiGethen used water from the pool itself to cleanse the temple. Auum was possessed of an anger he could not quench as he scrubbed at the floor with palm leaves soaked in lime. The juice stung his fingers but he ignored the irritation. Every hint of stranger blood had to go. Every boot mark, every careless scratch had to be expunged.
Duele, Evunn and the ClawBound were outside, dealing with the bodies, offering them up to Tual. Auum couldn’t bring himself to join them, unsure whether those that had perpetrated this crime against the elven races should be consumed by the forest denizens. So he stayed to clean and he wouldn’t be satisfied until the floor ran with the blood from his own raw hands.
It was late in the afternoon when Auum had scoured the temple enough and the stone shone clean. He and his Tai had raised the marble hand and it sat next to the stump to which it had been attached. They had collected every chip of marble from pool and floor. All that remained missing was dust and the thumb fragment. And Duele had reported many writings gone from the temple’s chambers of contemplation, compounding the desecration.
Examining the tent the strangers had pitched to the left of the apron before tearing it and its contents to shreds, the Tai had found food and equipment for more than the twenty-one they had killed and the two they would soon hunt. It seemed clear that others had run too, and almost certainly north. It was critical that all these strangers were found, killed and searched. This was too big for one TaiGethen cell and one ClawBound pair. Auum brought his Tai together, and after their prayers had been offered and their fast of the day broken, he told them of his decision.
‘We will track the two we saw,’ he said. ‘They will lead us to others. The ClawBound pair can start now if they will. We will wait for our brother TaiGethen and the Al-Arynaar. Many are close, I can feel it.’
He stopped to chew a mouthful of food.
‘Yniss has set us the stiffest of tests and we must not fail. Every elf depends upon us. All that was taken from here must be returned. Let no one and nothing stand in our way. But do not indulge in retribution or revenge while our task is upon us. Those may come later. Rest now, for when we begin again we must not pause until the harmony is restored. Are you both full well?’
They knew what he asked them, whether the spiritual unease they felt had affected them physically or mentally. Both nodded their heads.
‘Do not be silent if you should change. I will talk to the ClawBound. ’
Auum flowed to his feet and walked across the apron to where the elf and panther sat at the edge of the forest. The heavily muscled sleek black feline had her paw on the bones of a large rodent and was chewing the flesh. Beside her, the elf crunched on raw vegetables.
‘You saw the two?’ asked Auum.
The ClawBound turned their heads to him as one, their eyes on him, the panther’s yellow and hooded, the elf’s a deep dark green. The elf nodded.
‘You understand what we seek? All must die. All that was taken must be returned. Will you track the two for us?’
Another nod.
‘Tual watch over you. We will not be far behind you.’
Auum returned to his Tai. Behind him, the ClawBound slipped silently back into the forest.
Chapter 19
Two more days. Two more days of heat, rain, sweat, flies, snakes, lizards, spiders, rats and bickering men. Erienne hardly slept a wink that first night and the next was no better. She spent the days staring into the waters of the River Ix as the guide took them away from the main flow and up countless turns, branches and tributaries. By the end of the second day, she was so unsure of their overall direction, she had to keep checking their position by the sun.
This was surely some form of elaborate torture designed for a purpose she couldn’t guess. The land was hell above ground, the skies disgorged rain that stung her head through the hood of her cloak, and everywhere there were animals large and small obsessed solely with killing her should she make one false move. Even the brightly coloured frogs, Ren had told her cheerfully, could unintentionally end her life.
And so, when they did land, for a break or for that dreaded second night, Erienne was scared every time she put her foot down, stretched out an arm to steady herself or sat on a log to eat around the fire. Even had she wanted to, she couldn’t have sustained a conversation. Her concentration was broken by every rustle and crack in the undergrowth and every call of every animal. It made her temporarily useless as a mage, and already Denser and Ilkar had become a little irritable that the cleansing and gentle healing spells they had to cast were not being shared equally.
She tried telling herself that the threat couldn’t be everywhere, that she was simply overreacting to an alien situation. She stared long at Ren and Ilkar, who seemed so completely at ease. And at Kayloor, respectful of the forest but comfortable. At Hirad and The Unknown, who accepted their situation with trademark phlegmatism, and at Thraun, who absolutely loved it and whose hunting instincts were sharper than ever, back beneath trees where he felt he belonged.
But she could turn to Denser and Darrick because she knew, without having to ask, that the strangeness affected them too. Her only other option was to retreat into her mind alone, which was even more distressing filled as it was with Lyanna. Being apart from her daughter’s grave had broken the direct association but nothing would ever dim the memories. Her desperation was as keen as ever, and those scant moments when her memories brought her joy were scarce jewels in the desert. But she couldn’t cry. Not here. This place didn’t understand her pain, and her tears and rage would be wasted.
To distract herself as they sailed, she tried to imagine what lay beneath them. Ilkar and Ren had been fulsome in their descriptions and she had bought it all, fuel for her fears. The shoals of flesh-eating fish that scented blood from ten miles’ distance. The thirty-foot crocodiles with jaws strong enough to pierce plate mail. The invisible creatures that burrowed into flesh and laid their young to grow fat on host blood.
But instead they landed for good in the late afternoon of the third day at a shallow beach fringed with palms and waving grasses, home to three dozen and more fishing boats and open canoes.
‘Home,’ said Ilkar, leaping onto the land and staring up the beach.
‘About bloody time,’ said Hirad, following him to stand with hands on hips.
Erienne felt a rush of relief. She needed to lie under a roof, in something more substantial than a hammock. The light was beginning to fade, she was tired, hungry and could no longer ignore the growing pulse in her head as a passing ache. It had been coming on for days. At least now she could hope for a little privacy and security to sort it out.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Ren, slipping an arm around Ilkar’s waist.
A flight of red-backed parrots passed over them, heading for the cloud-shrouded green heights and the falls they could just make out in the distance.
‘Naturally,’ said Ilkar.
‘He’s going to tell us it’s a five-mile swamp hike through snake-infested forest to his front door,’ grumbled Denser, though he was smiling. He looked down at Erienne, his expression sobering. ‘Are you all right, love?’
‘Damn fool question,’ said Erienne, feeling the comfort of his closeness and empathy.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Later,’ she said.
‘The village is literally just over the rise here,’ said Ilkar, pointing up the bank through which a path had been well trodden, its shingle all but covered in mud.
Erienne followed his arm and could see the odd plume of smoke rising into the heavy sky. It was getting very hot again. She felt the sweat prickling on her and had a sudden longing for winter and the cold. Even the rain here was hot enough to bathe in.
The Unknown and Aeb had hauled all of their kit from the boat under the scowling gaze of Kayloor.
‘Let’s get going,’ said Hirad. ‘I can feel rain.’ He shouldered his sack and glared at their elven guide. ‘It’s been a real pleasure.’
‘Respect the forest. Cefu watches you,’ said Kayloor in halting Balaian.
‘It speaks,’ said Hirad.
‘Yes, and so do you,’ said Ilkar. ‘Too much. He’s just giving you sound advice.’
‘Who’s Cefu again?’
‘God of the canopy, Hirad,’ said Erienne.
Ilkar smiled. ‘At least someone listens to me. And remember what I told you before. People will stare at you. They won’t want you to be here. Don’t react; let Ren and me guide you. And Hirad, no staring back.’
‘Me?’ Hirad’s expression was pained innocence.
‘Yes, you,’ said Ilkar. ‘Prolonged eye contact is a challenge. Don’t make it until they accept you. Really. Come on.’
He led the way up the bank, The Raven and Ren close behind him as the rain swept across the river and soaked them yet again. It wasn’t even worth hurrying. They’d learned that much. And at least it discouraged the flies.
Taanepol, Ilkar’s home village, which roughly translated meant ‘town on the river’, was a cluster of approaching two hundred wood and leaf-thatch buildings in an elf-made clearing somehow in total sympathy with the forest around it. Trees overlooked it on three sides, with the fourth largely open as the ground fell away towards the river.
It was not an obviously organised settlement to the Balaian eye because there was no discernible centre or dominating structure. Groups of buildings were gathered loosely around cleared areas in which fire pits sat, tables and benches were arranged, and cooking and hunting paraphernalia lay scattered. Every house had a wide covered porch, roofs angled to take the rain into shallow channels that ran away downhill and back to the Ix.
As they approached, the rain smearing their faces, Erienne thought she could see what looked like a moat along the edge of the village, bridged by lashed-together logs. Ilkar was speaking for all their benefits.
‘There’ll be about five hundred in all here, though at any one time half are fishing, hunting or farming. Or on Balaia mage-training, if they feel the calling. I know it looks a bit jumbled, but like every other village, it was originally settled by one family and has grown as others were accepted and joined.’
‘Why did it happen that way?’ asked The Unknown. ‘Protection presumably.’
‘That’s right. The elves of Calaius have a tribal history no less torn by war than the Wesmen’s. Even so, this is one of the biggest settlements you’ll find this deep in the forest.’
‘So how come you’re allowed to hack down the forest but when we break a twig Captain Miserable has a fit?’
‘Because, Hirad, it’s our land. We were born to it and we husband it. This isn’t wanton destruction. We benefit the forest; strangers destroy it,’ said Ilkar. ‘Like I say, just respect elven beliefs and you’ll have no trouble.’
It was a moat. Dug square, and she could see as she neared that it was the best part of six feet deep and around eight feet wide. Log bridges crossed it in five places.
‘Expecting attack, are you?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly,’ said Ilkar, turning and smiling through the downpour, his black hair smeared on his head. He stopped on the bridge. ‘It keeps our animals in and some of the undesirables out.’
Erienne caught her breath. The moat was lined with an inch or so of water and seemed to be teeming with life. Lizards, rodents, snakes - she could see them all in there - scuttling or slithering here and there or testing the sides of the moat. There had to be dozens of the things in the stretches she could see to either side.
‘It’s hardly going to stop a spider, is it?’ said The Unknown.
Ilkar shrugged. ‘Probably not, but we fill it periodically with a mild alkali. Creatures don’t like it. Then, in the morning, we clear it out and get them back into the forest where they belong.’
‘Is it that bad?’ asked Darrick.
‘Unless things have changed radically, it varies,’ said Ilkar. ‘It’s just a safer environment, particularly for the young ones. They need to be taught to treat animals correctly to avoid trouble. Some of these things don’t give you a second chance.’
Erienne walked briskly across the bridge, feeling altogether safer. It all made perfect sense to her. But, like crossing from light into shadow, the hostility hit her immediately too.
All activity had stopped in the village. Children came running out until voices stopped them. Adults moved deliberately and with common purpose. There were no weapons evident. None was needed to convey the message. Most of the villagers were dressed simply in dark-coloured tops and trousers. All were dark-skinned with pronounced cheekbones and deep frowns.
‘Always this welcoming, are they?’ asked Hirad.
‘Now’s the time to be quiet,’ said Ilkar sharply. ‘Remember, most of these elves have never seen a non-elf. I suggest you stop and let me see what’s going on.’
The Raven did so, each of them assessing the threat. Erienne saw The Unknown move to the centre of the group, Aeb to one side, Hirad the other. She found herself behind them with Denser. Darrick had seen the line forming and came to Hirad’s right shoulder. Thraun too moved instinctively into the line, his hand resting easily on the pommel of the sword he now carried, mimicking Darrick’s stance. Only Ren stood apart, caught between Ilkar and The Raven, unsure what to do. None of them fingered weapons but they were ready.
Despite herself and the clouding of her mind, Erienne was impressed. Well over two seasons since they had last fought together and the instinct was as strong as ever. And for the first time for so long, she felt a release in the comfort of their close company. Perhaps Denser was right. Perhaps this would be the beginning of her
recovery.
Knowing she’d be unable to understand what Ilkar said to his people, she moved so that she could see the villagers clearly and tried to gauge their body language. She looked at Ilkar, seeing him ramrod straight, and felt total confidence in him.
It was not shared by Ilkar. The Julatsan mage, who had last seen his home before any of The Raven’s parents had been born, had rehearsed this moment in his mind over and over since they’d boarded ship at Herendeneth. In his dreams, he’d seen smiling faces and open arms as he strode across the bridge to his family group of homes, the lost son returned. But in his waking thoughts, he’d known suspicion would hide the smiles and that those arms would not be opened to him or those he brought with him.
But he’d expected nothing like this. There was no confusion on their faces, some of which he recognised although others were too young for him to know. There was no surprise either. What he could see were anger and fear. He scanned those in front of him, seeing neighbours and members of his wide family group, some of whom had aged, some not. Of his immediate family, his parents and less surprisingly his brother, there was no sign.
Ilkar glanced behind him and saw The Raven’s formation. It was unnecessary, of course, but it gave him security and faith. And more than anything else it reinforced who his family really were. They stood behind him, not before him. Ren looked at him a little helplessly. He smiled at her, gestured her to stay just where she was. To Hirad he nodded and mouthed his thanks before turning back to his family group.
He made a wide angle with his arms in front of his face, fingers linked at the first digit to mimic the canopy. It was an ancient greeting, and was returned by most of the thirty or so in front of him, more in reflex than friendship.
‘Hello, Kild’aar,’ said Ilkar, settling on a middle-aged elven woman, distantly related to him on his father’s side. She was standing near the centre of the group, arms folded firmly under her breasts, her jet-black hair covered by a soaking cloth and her light clothing sticking to her thin body. She looked very tired, her slanted oval eyes red around her pupils, the crow’s feet deep and pronounced. ‘I’ve come back seeking help. May I and my friends enjoy the hospitality of Taanepol?’