by Alon Shalev
“That’s nice,” Ilana said. “But what about the sick? How will they get to you if your academy is so isolated? Who will you practice on?”
Seanchai nodded. “Good point. Let me take the next few hundred miles to ponder this.”
She laughed, and he took her hand.
“We might end up walking from one end of the kingdom to the other and back, but, like you said, at least we’ll do it together. It was so hard being separated from you, especially knowing you were in prison.”
She squeezed his hand when his voice wavered. After a few moments of silence, Seanchai asked, “Did you know I would come?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I hoped you wouldn’t. It was reckless.”
“I had to.”
“I know,” she grinned. “Rhoddan and Shayth mean a lot to you.”
“They most certainly do,” he replied and laughed. “And I got to meet Maugwen.”
“It was nice what you said to her back then, about trusting her intuition.”
“It’s the truth,” he replied.
Ilana looked at him. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“What don’t you know?”
She pushed him playfully. “Seriously. You never complain about her slowing us down. Why?”
“Maybe I’m a nice elf,” he shrugged.
“No,” she replied. “I mean, you are a nice elf – maybe too nice – and always see the best in people. But I think there’s more.” She waited expectantly.
Seanchai glanced behind to ensure they could not be heard.
“Mhari and I did some serious scrying. We traveled to Galbrieth and followed your energy trail. When I found you in the jail cells, I felt hers. It was very powerful; much different from other humans. I didn’t think much of it until we had finished and Mhari mentioned it. She, too, had felt it.”
Ilana couldn’t help glancing back at Gwen, who smiled and waved. Ilana recalled their girl-talks in the dungeons, where Gwen had promised Ilana that her beau would come rescue her. She had been right.
“Gwen’s okay,” she said. “She helped me through a terrible time.”
“Yes,” Seanchai replied, his voice distant. “But I will call her Maugwen, for a time will come when she will demand it of us.”
By midafternoon, the group had entered a forest. Seanchai the wood elf was thrilled. He smelled the moss and the decomposing leaves and relished the trees’ energy. He couldn’t wait to stop for the night and practice his meditation exercises as one with the forest. He was almost giddy with joy, but this was replaced with growing unease. Abruptly he stopped, and his suddenness halted the group.
“Something’s not right,” he warned quietly. “We should proceed with care.”
Sellia and Shayth silently took position on either side of the others, bows noched at the ready. Rhoddan fell back, drawing his knives.
Gwen whimpered, and Ilana put a protective arm around her. “It’s okay, I think. Something spooked Seanchai and we don’t want to take a chance, that’s all. It’s probably nothing. Maybe a wolf or other predator.”
Gwen glanced at Ilana’s free hand, clutching her own long knife. “Thanks,” Gwen whispered, “but he’s right.” Ilana caught Seanchai’s eye at this admission.
They skulked down the path, alert, until Seanchai paused and stared to his left. He dropped his bags and cloak and turned to Gwen. “Please stay with the supplies.”
She nodded and suppressed another whimper. The others fell in behind Seanchai, who moved quickly and furtively, but almost immediately disappearing out of their sight. When they caught up to him, he was facing a pack of wolfheids, the half-human, half-wolf creatures warped by dark magic.
The wolfheids crouched, snarling, at the edge of a wide circle with two exits. Nearby, a wagon was overturned, its riders cowering behind it. Two bodies lay still on the ground.
Seanchai poised with one sword in front for defense and the other high above his head. Two wolfheids emerged from the pack circling him from different sides. Seanchai didn’t move until a third wolfheid sprung from atop a rock to his left. The other two sprung as well.
The Wycaan jumped into the air and twisted. The higher sword went straight through one wolfheid’s neck, severing head from body. Carrying this momentum he struck the other two airborne creatures, one with each sword.
Arrows twanged as Shayth and Sellia’s arrows felled two more wolfheids. The rest of the pack had seen enough, and as one, turned and fled into the trees. Seanchai approached the overturned wagon, disheveled and breathing heavily. No one moved from behind it.
Ilana walked into the clearing and loudly asked Seanchai to put away his swords, which were dripping with blood and gore. He wiped and sheathed them sheepishly.
Ilana approached the wagon. “Come on out. We won’t harm you.”
There were whispers and scuffling behind the wagon before two short, rather stout people cautiously emerged. The larger one had his long hair tied back and sported a long beard. The other had similar long hair and looked possibly female and definitely old.
Sellia spoke. “I’ll fetch Gwen. She might be of help here.”
Ilana stepped forward and addressed them as she would speak to scared children. “It’s okay, little ones. Do not be afraid.”
“Little ones?” the biggest growled deeply.
“Please excuse my friends.” Shayth approached, grinning widely, his hands outstretched to his sides, with his palms facing the survivors in the universal sign of peace. “They don’t mean to be rude. They’ve never met dwarves.”
FIVE
Jermona’s mouth fell open. He was so shocked at what he had just witnessed that he barely recovered quickly enough to hide himself when the dark-skinned elfe passed him on her way back to where they had left their packs with the human girl.
Wow. The white-haired elf had just taken down three full-grown wolfheids in a single, smooth movement. It had been over in seconds. Jermona had also taken note of how efficiently the dark-skinned elfe and the Emperor’s nephew had felled two more, but that big elf, that . . . special one . . . now he understood why people were calling him that.
So this was what it was all about? This is why General Tarlach himself led a full battalion to capture a young, scrawny, fairly inexperienced bunch of elves and humans? The elf moved so fast and with such precision. Jermona had felt his power from his hiding place a good twenty yards away. While the young ranger had heard of warriors who fought with two swords, he had never seen one.
He sunk lower in the bush where he was hiding as he heard the dark-skinned elfe and the young girl approaching. They were carrying a number of bags and talking about what had just happened. The girl was almost toppling over under the weight of her load.
“. . . and he really killed three of those beasts by himself?”
“That’s what I told you, twice already.”
“He was amazing when he rescued us. So were you, Sellia. I’ve never seen a woman fight like that.”
“Well, I’m hardly a woman,” the one called Sellia replied, arching an eyebrow.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . . you know. I’m learning not to think of elves and humans differently. This is still new to me.”
“I understand,” Sellia replied. “Sounds like you’ve been hanging round Ilana and Rhoddan for too long.”
“Rhoddan,” the girl almost purred. “Did he kill any?”
“Do you have a crush on Rhoddan?” Sellia asked, and Jermona could see bright white teeth gleaming as she smiled. He wondered if the girl had been thrown in jail because of her attraction to an elf.
“Of course not,” the girl replied. “He’s an elf and I’m a human.”
“Yes, but you’re trying to forget that we’re different, right?”
A giggle escaped the young girl, then, right as they left Jermona’s hearing range, he heard her say, “He is very brave, though, isn’t he?”
Sellia laughed loudly. “Ah, Gwen. You’re right. We really aren�
��t that different.”
Jermona was so absorbed in the group’s conversation with the dwarves that he jumped when a nut hit his cheek. He turned in the direction it came from and saw another ranger motioning him over. They joined three others who had gathered out of sight and earshot from the travelers. The oldest addressed Jermona in a deep voice.
“You’ve done well, Jermona. You’re a credit to your father’s training.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Jermona replied proudly. “You also taught me.”
“I did, and I’m very proud of you, too, though I don’t approve of you currying the favor of General Tarlach. He’s a harsh and violent man. Get close if you want, but always be ready to escape if you have to. Do you hear?”
Jermona nodded and received a pat on the head. “Good,” the man continued. “Now, what can you tell us?”
Jermona quickly recounted what he had seen and learned about the individuals and group dynamic. The other rangers clearly thought he was embellishing when he described the fight with the wolfheids, and flat-out didn’t believe him when he mentioned the dwarves.
“Ain’t no dwarves this far north,” one said.
“Are you sure, Jermona? Could they just be heavy-set kids?”
“With beards and axes?” Jermona retorted, rather annoyed that he was being questioned like this. General Tarlach would not have asked such questions.
One of the rangers turned to Jermona’s uncle. “With all due respect to Jermona, I’d like to scout ahead and confirm what he’s said.”
“Why, Jan?” Jermona snapped, and then lowered his head in contrition after his uncle glared at him.
“Because,” Jan said testily, “I’m the one going back to convey your report to the venerable general. Like your uncle said, you don’t make mistakes with General Tarlach. Before I go, let me replenish your supplies with my own. I can replace them at the camp.. You said the elves are heading into those mountains?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why?” Jermona shook his head and Jan looked at the others. “Does anyone know what’s in those mountains?”
They all shook their heads, and then Jermona’s uncle spoke. “But if dwarves, who live hundreds of miles away, are interested in these mountains, there’s something important there. Of that, I’m sure.
“Jan. Head back to the general and report what you’ve heard after you’ve verified its accuracy to your satisfaction. Jermona, you’ll continue to track the elves, yes? That’s what you want?”
Jermona nodded.
“Good,” his uncle said. “Hortat, Synus and I will be nearby, so keep leaving signs. Hortat, I would like you to scout ahead. We need to know what’s waiting for us in those mountains and tell the general as soon as we find out.”
“Aye,” Hortat replied.
Jan left them after he had given some small brown cloth bags to Jermona. “The others can forage,” he had explained, “but if you’re the point man, you shouldn’t have to worry about food as you shadow them.”
Jermona’s uncle put his brown-gloved hand on the young ranger’s shoulder. “You’ve done very well, my nephew, but I caution you. Don’t get overly confident, and don’t underestimate the Wycaan. I don’t fancy the chances of even the best ranger against him.”
“You think he’s that good?” Jermona asked.
His uncle stared at him with an awed, faraway expression. “Remind me sometime to tell you stories of when our people served the Wycaans, long ago.”
“We served elves?” Jermona scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“We worked closely with the Wycaans, Jermona, regardless of their race. Human, dwarf, or elf – it didn’t matter. It was considered a great honor.”
Jermona gaped at him, but his uncle just patted his shoulder. “Just be very careful, Jermona. I would hate for anything to happen to you. Go now.”
SIX
“Dwarves? They’re dwarves?” Seanchai asked excitedly, hopping from one foot to the other. “Do they speak Odessiyan?”
“I believe these dwarves do, judging by the expressions on their faces,” Shayth replied, running a hand through his spiky hair, “and they’re standing right in front of you, so I suggest you address them directly.”
Seanchai turned to face the dwarves, realizing that this was his first encounter with a race he needed to persuade to join the Alliance if he had even the remotest chance of defeating the Emperor. He may not have started out on the right foot, though he hoped chasing off the wolfheids would help them forget his lack of tact.
“I’m sorry,” he said meeting the eyes of each dwarf. “This is all new to me. As my friend said, I’ve never met dwarves before.”
“Well,” said the bearded one, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeh have us at a disadvantage. I can see yeh ears are pointed, but everything else about yeh is different from anything I’ve ever seen.”
“I am Seanchai, son of Seantai. I am an elf and a Wycaan warrior.”
“Indeed. A Wycaan, yeh say?” He did not seem impressed. “Well, now that’s all clear, I thank yeh and yeh friends for saving us.” He moved to the two dwarves lying still and checked for pulses. Then he stood up and sighed. “May I request that yeh help us turn the wagon up straight and put our friends inside? We’ll honor them when it is safe.”
“Where are you going?” Ilana asked. “I haven’t heard of dwarves traveling this far north.”
They shuffled their feet. Then the male said: “It’s best we don’t say.”
“What!” Shayth growled. “He just saved your lives–”
“Shayth!” Seanchai interrupted without turning from the dwarves. “We’ll help you,” he said to the male. “Then we’ll escort you to your mining camp in the mountains. But please, where I come from, it’s polite to share names.”
He paused, but kept his gaze fixated on the bearded dwarf, who thought for a moment before bowing low.
“Mah name is Ballendir and this is Ophera. I truly thank yeh for coming to our aid. This is an inhospitable land, but that’s no excuse for a dwarf to forget his manners. But tell me how yeh know we’re heading to a mine in the mountains.” He coughed. “Uhh . . . if indeed we are?”
“A Wycaan has many talents,” Seanchai said. “We can fight, we can breathe underwater, and we can be very observant.”
He walked to the back of the wagon and withdrew a pickaxe protruding out of a split crate.
The others laughed, and the dwarves shuffled their feet, apparently mildly embarrassed at their lack of covertness. The tension eased once Rhoddan organized everyone to help empty the wagon and stack the crates.
While they worked, Seanchai crouched by one of the bodies – a female. He removed the chain mail and poked around, feeling for wounds and broken bones. Ballendir and Ophera watched suspiciously as they helped right their wagon.
Seanchai put his palms on her chest and closed his eyes. He could feel a very faint and erratic heartbeat and began to summon energy from the ground to help him. Gradually, a wave of warmth moved through him into the wounded dwarfe.
“Bring me her bedroll, a towel if you have one, and water.”
Seanchai moved to the second body, but the blood pooled around its waist didn’t give him much hope. He touched the cold skin, frowned, and slowly pulled the fallen dwarf’s cloak up to cover him.
He checked the injured dwarfe again. Her pulse was still aberrant, but Seanchai thought it might be just a bit stronger. He put his hand on her forehead; it was scalding. He thought of his mother, a world away and in another lifetime. She was a healer and would have known what to do. Seanchai recalled at least that he shouldn’t bring down the fever, but needed to hydrate her.
Ballendir brought the bedding and helped Seanchai gently wrap it around the wounded dwarfe. The towel he wet and used to drip water into her mouth. Ballendir took over.
“She went down hard,” the dwarf said. “I checked quickly, but I never felt a pulse.”
“I’m not sure she’ll make it either
, my friend. I can continue to strengthen her along the way, but I’m not an experienced healer.”
“Maybe we best leave her here then,” the dwarf said gravely.
“Why?”
“I appreciate yeh help, Master Wycaan, but if we can only sustain her with yeh presence, then we have a problem.”
“What?”
“Yeh’re right, we’re going into the mountains. At some point yeh won’t be allowed to stay with us.”
“I can help you take her to your camp,” Seanchai said. “Then I will leave, if that is your wish.”
“Yeh don’t understand,” Ballendir said, shaking his head.
“He speaks of the First Decree,” Shayth said. “They won’t let someone who is not dwarf enter their caverns. For thousands of years they have held this iron-cast rule.”
“Aye, the First Decree,” Ballendir repeated solemnly.
“You can’t just leave this dwarfe to die,” Seanchai breathed deeply to control himself. “Are you not beholden of each other?”
Ballendir’s cheeks flushed. “We are. We value the life of another dwarf very highly. And I value the life of mah sister above all. She is mah blood, and blood of mah clan, as we say.”
“And at one time you allowed the other races in?” Seanchai asked.
“Aye, before the great betrayal. Our legends tell how elves, men and dwarves once lived together. It’s a long story. I will tell you when we rest tonight.”
“You allowed the other races to enter your boundaries,” Seanchai persisted. “Once, in a bygone age?”
“That’s correct.”
“Good. Then that settles it. I’ll keep your sister alive and bring her to your camp.”
“What?”
Seanchai stood straight, forcing the dwarf to look up. “I am a Wycaan, Ballendir. I come bearing a message for your people. That bygone age you spoke of is being resurrected.” His gaze intensified. “Together, we will reforge the Alliance and the dwarves will once again take their rightful place in society.”