by Alon Shalev
Tarlach had turned his back to them assuming the conversation at an end, but this ranger interested him and he hesitated. “It’s a young group, as far as we have gleaned from the villagers who have met them.”
“Sir?”
Tarlach turned around. Usually when he dismissed his soldiers, they gladly scampered away. These rangers were respectful, but not fearful of him.
The young ranger continued. “So far, they’ve zigzagged without a clear destination. My friend is right to suggest strengthening the guard at Cliftean Pass, but we can’t be sure they will head west.”
Tarlach raised an eyebrow. “Yet that is the general direction so far, is it not?”
“Yes, sir,” the youngster replied without dropping his gaze. “However, if they had a clear destination, then they would have struck a straighter course westward. If it were me, I’d already have been through the pass by now, as that is the most dangerous area in which to engage or avoid an enemy.”
“You’re suggesting they are running wildly, maybe panicking?”
“You did say they are young, sir.”
“Yes, I did. What is your name?”
“Jermona, sir.”
“You are young, yourself, are you not?”
“I have been a ranger for three years, sir,” he said puffing out his chest. “But as soon as I could walk, I accompanied my father and his brother, and learned from them. My entire family has been rangers for generations.”
“My young friend speaks freely, sir,” the other interjected apologetically. “He is enthusiastic and conscientious – maybe a little too enthusiastic.”
He attempted a nervous laugh, but Tarlach’s face remained hard.
“Yes, he is young and speaks freer than one of his station should,” Tarlach replied. “Jermona, accompany the officers to my command tent. You will attend my meeting and listen. Do not address the officers, but when we ride, you will share your impressions with me.
“The value of your insight just might lie in your exuberance. Those we chase are also all young and enthusiastic, like yourself.”
Tarlach nodded curtly to the older ranger. “Rest and eat something. We will move on within the hour.” He then turned to his assistant who, as always, lingered eagerly nearby. “Bortand, let the soldiers stand down. Call the officers to my tent.”
Bortand bowed and walked away, calling out orders in his high, squeaky voice. Tarlach stepped over the dead village elder. Then he glanced around and, assured that he was alone, turned, swore, and kicked her lifeless body.
They were marching again. Heeding the advice of his rangers, General Tarlach sent troops up into the pass with instructions to lie in wait. There were a handful of sentries stationed there already, and they would maintain their regiment. Three more sixers he directed to different villages on a broad trajectory, while the rangers led the bulk of his army to the village nearest the pass.
A call went up from behind. Three horsemen – messengers from the Emperor – galloped furiously up from the rear, leaving a thick cloud of dust in their wake. Tarlach signaled for the column to keep riding. Bortand and a sixer held back to wait.
A short while later, Bortand rode up alongside the general. Tarlach turned and smiled.
“Why are you red and puffing, my rotund friend? It is your horse that is bearing the weight.”
Bortand did not smile as he usually would. “You have a scroll from the, um, Emperor, my lord. It is sealed. You alone must open it.”
Tarlach glanced at his assistant and saw his frown. Bortand might be chronically out of shape, but his mind was as sharp as any. Tarlach took the scroll and maneuvered his horse to the side of the path. Another sixer of well-built troops, each wearing a special blue insignia on his uniform, surrounded him at a discreet distance.
Tarlach pulled a knife from his boot and cut through the wax seal bearing the Emperor’s insignia.
You have never failed me until now, Tarlach, and I trust you will not fail me again. As you are aware, the elf and his companions must not pass through our Western boundaries or find what lies beyond, lest they discover what we have long kept secret. This must not happen.
Kill the elves. Bring me my nephew if you can. Otherwise, kill him, too. I trust your judgment on this matter.
Your wife is well and sends her love. Ahad is close by. I watch over them. Serve me well, as always.
Tarlach read the parchment a second and third time. Then he folded it carefully and put it into his saddlebag. He silently resumed his position at the head of the line and though his expression remained unchanged, he quickened the pace of his army.
THREE
Ilana led as they walked in heavy silence. She felt the weight of the dawn mist closing in all around her and shivered as the damp dew seeped through her clothes. It was still two hours from sunrise, and the gray pallor matched the group’s collective mood.
They walked parallel to a path through a wood so as not to chance meeting someone on the road or leave an obvious trail of footprints. She heard Maugwen behind her trip twice on roots and small stones. Ilana had not consulted Seanchai about the direction. She headed west, distancing them from Galbrieth, clinging to the belief that he should seek out the Elves of the West as Mhari had instructed him. Moving in this direction also gave a sense of purpose to Sellia and Rhoddan who were becoming increasingly frustrated with Seanchai, though they hid it from him. She wondered how long they would hold back.
Ilana fretted about Seanchai. She had not expected him to be the same young elf she had known before his time with Mhari, but there was still a vulnerable uncertainty about him that let her know he was still struggling with his journey and powers. He had had to grow up fast. Too fast, really, but who didn’t in these dangerous times? Still, he had likely lost his parents and entire village, seen his teacher die, and, by his own hand, taken many lives. He had great power, more than he was probably aware of. But she knew he wore his responsibility as a burden, as he struggled to take charge of himself without Mhari’s guidance. The only time his face did not seem harrowed was when he meditated or trained with his swords.
Since they had fled the garrison of Galbrieth, Ilana and Seanchai had found only a few brief opportunities to be alone. In these precious moments, he allowed himself to mourn, to relax, and to let his thick armoring down. Only in her arms did he feel safe, illusion though it was. The truth was that he was an animal hunted by the Emperor, the most powerful man in all the lands. The odds were against him – against them all.
“Tsst!” The warning came from Sellia, on Ilana’s right.
As one, they dropped to a crouch, a move Rhoddan had drilled into them. But Sellia made no attempt to conceal herself as she approached Ilana. She bent down when she reached Ilana and hissed in her ear.
“You’re not concentrating, Ilana.” Sellia’s voice was harsh. “We’re following you. If there’s danger in front of us, you must be the first to sense it. Keep your mind clear of everything else while you guide us.”
Ilana nodded. She knew Sellia was right. She signaled for them to rise and continue.
For the next three hours, their path rose steadily. Gwen, unaccustomed to such rigorous travel, was clearly tiring. Ilana announced a break after the young girl stumbled one too many times. Shayth and Rhoddan unpacked some bread, cheese, and fruit.
Seanchai glared at his friends. “You took food from the village? They have nothing and already gave us too much. I refused supplies when Ethrain offered.”
“And snubbing his generosity insulted him,” Rhoddan answered without looking up. “It is a great honor for them to sacrifice for you.”
“We have little time to hunt or forage,” Shayth added. “You serve them best by putting distance between us and the village.”
Seanchai turned his back on them and saw Sellia standing apart from the group. She had an arrow noched as she scanned their perimeter. He walked over.
“Go eat,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”
She looke
d at him, her rich brown eyes locking into his, her tone clipped. “I’m sorry for your loss, Seanchai. I’m sure Mhari was special. But you need to move on.”
“I am moving on,” he snapped. “Haven’t you noticed? All I seem to do is move on.”
She didn’t flinch at his sarcasm. Instead, she spoke to him firmly while she took the arrow from her bow and returned it to her quiver. “I’m not as sweet as your girlfriend, but I care for you, and I care for them.” She nodded toward the others. “I want to be sympathetic, but this isn’t the time. Listen to me, Seanchai. You serve no one by wandering around, hiding. We’ll all follow you to the ends of the earth, but you need to decide where we’re going and why.”
“Go eat,” Seanchai replied, turning his back to look out around them.
Several minutes later, he heard a hushed argument behind him. He walked over to the group and addressed Gwen, who sat slightly apart from the others.
“Maugwen?” he said. “Would you please stand guard for a while?”
She nodded and rose.
“Eat,” Sellia said and tore off a hunk of bread for him.
He sat and chewed for a short while and then looked up. “What lies ahead of us?”
Ilana drew a map in the dust. “If we keep heading west, then we will reach the Cliftean Pass. It is half a day’s walk from here, but . . .”
“But what?”
“It seems too obvious,” Shayth said. “Tarlach will surely have troops there by now. There was probably always a military presence, but he must have reinforced them the moment we started heading west.”
“Why are we heading west, Wycaan?” Sellia asked, her brow furrowing as her mind raced forward. “What’s out there that he doesn’t want you to reach?”
Seanchai stared at her, thinking, and then glanced back toward Gwen. The diminutive girl stood with her back to them, but was definitely within earshot. Seanchai still wasn’t comfortable with her presence. Only Ilana seemed to feel bonded to her.
“Help,” he murmured. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Shayth snorted.
“Maybe,” Seanchai said, glancing again at Gwen. “I can’t . . . I can’t be sure. I’m not supposed to reveal who is there and . . .”
“And?” Ilana looked concerned.
“And I can’t be sure they will help us, if they even exist.”
“Mhari told you to travel to this place?” Shayth asked.
“Yes, but she wasn’t . . . there were things she wouldn’t share with me.”
“But you think we should head there?” Ilana persisted.
Seanchai shrugged and his voice was soft. “It was Mhari’s instruction.”
“You don’t sound too convinced.” Sellia crossed her arms.
“It was Mhari’s instruction,” Seanchai repeated, his voice stronger now. “Let’s get through the pass if we can. I’m done talking.”
They packed up and moved off. As the sun rose in the sky, they began to climb steeper terrain. After stopping twice to remove their cloaks and drink from a stream, they reached a ridge around midday. Ilana signaled for them to approach it with care.
They crawled to the top of the ridge and gazed across a winding plain into a narrow gorge, where they counted eight soldiers. Ilana assumed there would be at least another four sleeping – two sixers in total. She glanced around once more before signaling everyone to retreat. When they had safely disappeared under the cover of trees, Ilana realized that Seanchai had stayed on the ridge. She turned back, but Sellia gently touched her arm and shook her head.
It was a while before Seanchai returned, rubbing his forehead and frowning.
“Were you scrying?” Rhoddan asked.
Seanchai nodded.
“What’s scrying?” Gwen asked.
“In this case, it’s the ability to see great distances and make out what is there,” Ilana explained.
“Neat,” she said and then looked at Seanchai. “It hurts you to do it? To scry?”
Seanchai nodded. “It’ll pass,” he said and sipped some water. “But we won’t.”
“We can take them,” said Rhoddan. “I could do with some exercise.”
“No, we can’t,” Seanchai replied. “Those soldiers are bait. It’s a trap. There are many more hidden inside the pass, including, I think, pictorians.”
“Pictorians?” Gwen asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Shayth replied. “They are big and horned. Some are eight feet tall. They are strong, ill-tempered, and probably eat little girls for snacks.”
“Shayth!” Ilana glared at him.
“We’re going that way,” Seanchai pointed north to a range of unwelcoming peaks about to be enveloped in cloud.
“What’s there?”
“I’m not sure, but I felt a power in those mountains.”
“I think you’re right,” Gwen agreed, her eyes fixed on the mountains. She sounded uncharacteristically confident.
They all looked at her with clear skepticism, and then at Seanchai. He was smiling at her.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I value your instincts, Maugwen.”
FOUR
Jermona was very pleased with himself when General Tarlach took his advice and sent troop reinforcements to guard the pass. The young ranger had said the group wouldn’t fight if there were enough soldiers, and the general added four sixers of pictorians to ensure they wouldn’t try.
General Tarlach had instructed Jermona to join the rangers tracking the elves and to be given the point position, the one who gets closest to glean information. The young ranger was thrilled with how things were working out. He was currently following them at a comfortable distance, but would get closer under the cover of the forest ahead of them.
The tall, muscular, white-haired elf was clearly the leader. When he spoke they all seemed to listen, though Jermona could see that he was moody. The pretty young elfe obviously was his consort, as she seemed to be the one who placated him. The two other elves, a slender, toned male and a beautiful, black elfe, were obviously guards. He carried an assortment of blades and she had a long, red elf bow.
Jermona had gathered vague details about them all as he watched, but it was the humans that particularly intrigued him. This was the first time he had seen the Emperor’s nephew, the infamous criminal. They said he was as stealthy as a ranger, but Jermona doubted this. His father always said rangers were born into their families. Shayth was probably just being tolerated because of who he was. He wondered whether General Tarlach knew who the young girl was, as she had not been mentioned when he had been briefed.
Two things intrigued Jermona as he watched them all interact. First, they were all more or less his age and completely unencumbered by older people ordering them about or griping about their inexperience. He reckoned that kind of freedom must be fun, and wondered whether the other rangers would respect him more if he got close with the general.
The second thing was that these were elves and humans working together, and the elves were not subservient. They were at least equal, or, in the case of the white-haired one, in charge. Jermona had only known elves who had been beaten down and submissive. They appeared to be a simple, harmless folk – pitiful, really. But these elves were clearly different. He had heard about the rescue and escape from Galbrieth at the Emperor’s birthday celebration. The white-haired elf and the dark-skinned elfe had rescued the others just as they were about to be executed.
He shook his head. How could a bunch of elves launch an attack on a garrison in broad daylight, much less bring down a large portion of its massive walls? They had clearly been outnumbered by the army, and were still successful.
Jermona wondered what it would be like to have people go through so much trouble to rescue him. The rangers had a strict code: if you were captured, you were expected to either try and escape, or kill yourself. A ranger never revealed the secrets of his people or trade. But then, rangers were very rarely caught. They could melt into the shadows while the captors were focused
on the people the rangers worked for.
The group was heading north with the leader and his consort leading the way. The dark elfe walked on one side, ever alert. He would have to be careful of her. Elves were purported to have good vision and she looked like she knew how to use her bow. The other elf walked on the opposite side with the young girl alongside him. The Emperor’s nephew brought up the rear.
As the point tracker, Jermona would routinely meet up with the other rangers to pass on information for them to relay to General Tarlach. He smiled to himself at the prospect of sending the older rangers to do this. This job would certainly elevate his rank and importance. He had done well to speak out to the general.
He was happy when, in the late afternoon, they entered the forest. He would keep his distance as they set up camp and move closer after dark. If they were foolish enough to light a fire, they would have little vision beyond its light and he could hide close by and listen.
He hoped to hear something substantial to report to General Tarlach and curry further favor, but more than that, Jermona was genuinely curious about this group and how they functioned.
Seanchai and Ilana walked a little way ahead of the others so they could talk alone. Now that he felt a sense of purpose heading north, Seanchai felt better, though he was apprehensive about the power he had felt ahead. The mountains loomed up in front of them; there would be some serious climbing.
He caught Ilana glancing at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing, really,” she said, sighing involuntarily. “I’m thinking I might spend the rest of my life criss-crossing Odessiya with you, never quite sure where we are going from day to day.”
“Mhari said that this was the life of a Wycaan; that even when we have a just and civil society, there will always be need for our services.”
“To fight?”
“No,” Seanchai replied. “I want to learn more about using this power for good. I dream about creating a school for healers, somewhere far from any city. It will have a forest and mountains and lake nearby. It needs to be remote enough that only the most motivated will come.”