by Alon Shalev
“Would yeh mind? I was in the middle of taking this one down, mah’self. How rude.”
They all chuckled nervously, except the boy, who was standing with his hands on his knees and panting.
“You’ll . . . get your . . . chance. There are . . . another five and . . . a ranger.”
Rhoddan quickly assumed control. He sent Ophera and Maugwen to hide under the wagon.
“We need to lead them away from Ellendir,” he called, his voice deep and authoritative. “Let’s retreat to the path we were on and then back toward the mountains. Sellia, hide here and see if you can pick off the ranger. He might try and creep up on Seanchai or the boy.”
The boy drew a short sword. “I’m with you,” he said to Rhoddan, though his sword shook.
They moved to the left as five more pictorians entered the open space. These soldiers were more prepared to meet combat and had their massive broadswords and battleaxes ready. The company fell back to the road, drawing the pictorians away from the wagon.
Once on the path’s smoother surface, Seanchai turned to face the biggest soldier, who towered over him at eight feet tall. Everyone watched as the pictorian swung his huge blade around. Seanchai caught it between his swords but instead of blocking the attack, Seanchai allowed the weapon’s path to continue, twisting the pictorian and presenting himself with an opportunity for a wide kick in the pictorian’s waist.
His foot smashed into a dense bone, and he hopped back, howling with pain. The pictorians laughed and his adversary once again raised his sword and swung. Seanchai attempted the catch-and-kick maneuver again, this time aiming higher and connecting with the pictorian’s neck.
He staggered from the blow and never had a chance to recover as one of Seanchai’s swords plunged into his neck and the other through the giant’s chest. Seanchai whirled round, ready for more, and stopped as he realized everyone had been fixated on his fight with the beast. This lasted only a moment more as Ballendir and Ilana took on one pictorian, Rhoddan and the boy another, and a third leapt at Shayth.
“It is time, traitor prince,” the soldier roared, but where his sword intended to contact Shayth’s skull, there was only air.
Shayth had ducked around a small tree and now stabbed into the confused beast’s side. The pictorian struggled for a moment but straightened and prepared to pounce. Shayth crouched, his blade up and ready. But as the soldier lunged forward, Seanchai slammed into his huge back with amazing speed plunging him helplessly onto Shayth’s broadsword.
“Help Ilana,” Seanchai pointed and Shayth saw him turn swiftly and strike a smaller pictorian, his double blades a deadly blur. Then he turned to help Ballendir and the boy, who were retreating down the path, clearly on the defensive.
As Seanchai ran toward them, the pictorian sent both Ballendir and the boy flying with a swing from his huge axe. Ballendir hit a tree trunk and staggered to his feet. He shook his head but had difficulty refocusing on the advancing creature. The boy was also rising slowly but saw what happened next.
The pictorian picked up speed as he charged the dwarf, but did not make it to his target before being lifted off the ground and smashed, headfirst, into the think tree trunk. The whole tree creaked from the impact, and the unconscious pictorian fell on Ballendir, who collapsed under the giant’s weight. Seanchai pulled the huge creature off his friend, striking a killing blow to ensure he wouldn’t rise again.
“I was just about to take him, too,” Ballendir pouted.
“I know you were, but I need you to help the others,” Seanchai replied, spinning around to hide an emerging grin, just in time to see the final pictorian fall beneath Shayth’s sword and Ilana’s long knife.
“I could have taken him,” Ballendir muttered again.
Seanchai did not reply, but ran to Rhoddan, who lay on the path, rubbing his head.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Rhoddan replied. “I need a shield. Blocking a pictorian with your head is not a smart idea.”
They all turned to the boy, who stood with his mouth gaping open, his breathing heavy, and his eyes almost popping as he stared at Seanchai.
Seanchai, still panting, approached him and asked, “Who are you?”
“Jermona,” the boy said, his voice full of wonder. “Who are you?”
THIRTEEN
The day started badly for Ahad. He had thought to sleep in since he had not been allowed to join his classmates on a field trip. A servant woke him and announced that Ahad was expected at breakfast with his mother.
Sitting opposite her on the terrace was torture. He kept thinking of the last words from the messenger in the tavern: One bag. Ahad’s father was making plans to save him, but not his mother – not the woman who had stayed strong and loyal to the general whether he was home or, more often, away.
A ray of sunshine pierced through the trees, bathing her head in an angelic glow. Despite the streaks of gray in her hair and the occasional worry line on her face, she was still a beautiful woman. Ahad was sure the respect she commanded in the court circles was not just because she was the wife of the great General Tarlach.
“What do you plan to do today?” she asked him as she sipped her mint tea.
“Go to the lab at school. I’m allowed access and will do some of my own experiments.”
“You promise not to blow up anything?” she asked, flashing a lovely smile. “I’m going to a meeting to plan an event for children of lost soldiers. I’ll be back after midday. If you like, we can go for a walk together.”
Ahad didn’t answer.
“You don’t need to decide now,” his mother said. “I’ll be here. If you get lost in your science world, I’ll understand.”
Ahad just nodded. He had no intention of going to the school. When he had returned home in the early hours of the morning, he had been unable to fall asleep and instead spent a while deciding what to pack in his bag. He would buy a few things in the market today and then go visit his grandfather. It had been some time since he had, but maybe the old man would have some answers.
The market was a small, bustling neighborhood, now sprawling outside the inner castle walls. It was not hard for a boy to disappear here. In fact, he had favored this place for hide-and-seek with friends for that reason, much to the chagrin of the stall owners and merchants. Of course, the son of the great General Tarlach would only receive a mild rebuke.
Ahad had methodically divided his list into three sections. He planned to go out once a week on different days for three weeks, this time buying some clothes and new boots. Next week, he would purchase a few compact items for the road, such as a flint to light fires. These were nothing that a young man wouldn’t want to procure for a field trip. Finally, he would buy weapons. That might prove more complicated, and he needed to figure out how to do this.
As he strolled through the market, he watched to see if he was being followed. He was, of course, but this would not spoil his plans for now. He would definitely need to find a solution on the third trip.
Ahad had soon finished shopping, having learned to tell merchants that his selections were presents for his father. He usually ended up trying to pay more than the absurd prices the merchants wanted.
“It was an honor to sell something to General Tarlach’s son. Please tell the general where you bought it. Long live the Emperor.”
Ahad made his way out beyond the town walls to a small cottage, one of several that backed up to the forest. He knocked on the door and waited. He could hear shuffling inside.
He had bought a bag of lemons and some sweet drovas honey. It was expensive and very restorative. The old, bent man who came to the door would certainly appreciate it.
“Ahad, my favorite grandson,” the old man beamed as he extended two spindly arms.
“I’m your only grandson, papa,” Ahad replied, and hugged the old man. “I’ve brought you some lemons and honey. I’ll make some lemonade to cool us.”
“That’s a grand idea, my boy,” the old man
said as he turned around laboriously. “You make the drinks and bring them outside. I’ll wait in my sun chair, if you don’t mind.”
Ahad returned with a ceramic jug and two goblets. “Papa, where’s your helper?”
“She’s gone to the market to buy food for her family. She’ll be back to make me lunch later.”
“Is there anyone else here?”
The old man heard the edge in his grandson’s voice and looked up. Like his son, he had spent his career in the army, and though his body was frail, his mind was not. “No, no,” he said, keeping Ahad’s gaze. “But still, perhaps we shall drink a bit and then you can help me walk out to see my garden. I would like to check if the gardener knows what he’s doing.”
He nodded in the direction of a cherry tree near the fence. The message was clear. Here they could be overheard, but over there no spy could hide within earshot.
They chatted as they sipped their cool drinks. Ahad told his grandfather that he was upset not to be allowed to participate in the school trip and the old man nodded. Ahad hoped he was taking in what wasn’tbeing said as much as what was.
“How’s your mother doing?”
“She keeps busy. I’m not often at home and–”
“– and when you are home, you bury yourself in your studies. I’ve heard, and I’m very proud of you, as is your father.”
“She worries about him, too. My father hasn’t written as often of late. He’s very busy, it seems, and we don’t even know when he’ll return home to visit.”
The old man nodded and finished his drink, a few drops dribbling down his chin.
“Let us walk. I want to show you my garden.”
It took them ten minutes to reach the cherry tree. Ahad could have walked it in less than one if he had gone alone, and he felt impatient. As soon as the old man was seated and caught his breath, he looked around.
“See my beautiful garden?” He extended his arm and spoke louder than needed. “Look at all the land around us. Is it not beautiful?”
Ahad was being told to scan well and see if anyone was watching them. They were alone. The man following him was probably waiting in the shade outside the front of the house.
“I’m worried for my father,” Ahad said quietly. “Do you . . . do you hear anything?”
“Twice a week a young man comes here and takes me to the Officer’s Club. There I chat with my friends, all of us old, senile warriors whose deeds grow greater as our minds dim.
“Our sons, when they visit from the field, accompany us, and this way we all remain informed of what is happening. I always eat lunch there. I like the beef. The cook makes a dish from the leanest cut.” The old man paused a moment, meeting Ahab’s eyes and nodding slightly to let Ahad know that he had seen what his grandson was looking for.
“Those involved in politics often find that they’re vulnerable not only to the enemy, but to their ruler and the powerful overseers who rank in the Emperor’s court. You never show them weakness – only respect and loyalty.
“Your father, though, is vulnerable to something else.”
“What?”
“Do you remember when you were younger, maybe ten years ago, and your parents took another boy into your house?”
“Shayth? Yes. He was wild even then. We were friends at first, but he changed and was angry all the time. One day, he just disappeared.”
“Your father values loyalty above all else, Ahad. It is why the Emperor trusts him, why your mother loves him, why his soldiers bind themselves to him, and . . .” the old man shook his head, “why he is in terrible peril.”
“What does this have to do with Shayth? My father couldn’t have been very loyal to him if he let the boy disappear.”
The old man shook his head. “Your father was very loyal to Shayth’s father. Learn about Shayth, but be careful who you ask.”
Ahad thought of his mother’s offer to go for a walk today. It suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
“Grandfather, let me help you back to the house. I need to go soon.”
As the old man stood up, he grabbed Ahab’s arm for support. His wrinkled face came in close. “Did you make yourself a shopping list?”
Ahad nodded.
“There are some things that you will not be able to buy without arousing suspicion. Allow your grandfather, an old but distinguished warrior, the honor of passing on his tools of the trade to his only grandson.”
Ahad stared at him.
“If someone asks where you got them, there is no need to lie, but keep it discreet if you can. Next time you come to visit me, bring a bigger bag. Fill it with vegetables from your mother’s garden and some of your thick science books. I will enjoy the vegetables, but not the books.”
“Thank you, papa,” Ahad whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“In these situations, I find it is always best not to say more than you have to. Visit me again soon. Maybe at the end of the week?”
“I will,” Ahad promised.
“Watch yourself. I only have one son and one grandson. It is the sad legacy of the warrior. You are a hero when you win, but heroism is so fragile in the face of defeat. It is a terrible punishment to grow old when your family needs you.”
FOURTEEN
“Where did you–” Seanchai began, but Rhoddan stopped him.
“The boy said a ranger was with the pictorians.”
Seanchai pushed past Shayth and ran back to the camp. The wagon looked untouched.
“Sellia?” he called.
“I’m here,” she said, leaping gracefully from a tree branch.
“The ranger?”
“He didn’t come.”
Seanchai turned and ran back to the boy. “What direction would he go to report back?”
The boy pointed south and Seanchai took off. When he returned to the camp two hours later, the others were gathered around the relit fire. Only Rhoddan seemed to have been able to fall back to sleep and snored obliviously. Seanchai stared at his close friend as he caught his breath. Rhoddan was impressive in many ways.
“Did you catch him?” Ilana asked.
Seanchai shook his head and kicked a stone. “He can’t be quicker than me. I must have gone in the wrong direction.”
“Don’t take it so hard,” Shayth said. “He’s a ranger. He probably didn’t try to outrun you. They make their living by being stealthy.”
“And I should have sensed him when I scryed.” Seanchai rubbed his head and then turned back to Shayth. “Anyway, what’s a ranger?”
“Ask him,” Shayth nodded to Jermona. “You’re one, too, aren’t you?”
Jermona nodded and then bent his head. “Not a very good one, apparently. I couldn’t lose the pictorians.”
“What happened?” Ilana asked, much more empathetic than Shayth.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” the boy said and turned his back on them. He rested his head on hands that rested on his knees.
“You will if you want to stay with us,” Shayth said, his voice still sharp.
“Shayth,” Ilana admonished him.
But Ballendir cut in firmly. “I’m afraid Shayth’s right. This changes everything.”
Seanchai grinned. “Ballendir, my friend. They send you off on some secret mission, and you return with half an army.”
“What mission?” Ballendir glared at him. “And anyway, you six kids hardly constitute half an army.” He muttered something irritatedly in Dwarfish that Seanchai was glad he couldn’t understand. Ophera did, though, and she replied to Ballendir sharply. He sighed and nodded, then turned to Seanchai. “Ophera said that from what she’s seen, she wouldn’t like to confront yeh with only half an army. I have to agree.”
He walked over to Jermona. “Listen, son. If we’re to stay together then we need to know who yeh are and why they’re after yeh.”
Jermona jerked away. “Who said I want to join you?” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m very grateful that you took out that sixer. You
saved my life, okay? But that doesn’t mean I have to share everything with you.”
He stood up and paced a bit. Five sets of eyes followed him. When he turned to them, his voice was young and soft. “Can I stay tonight?”
Seanchai rose early to do his exercises. When he finished and opened his eyes, the boy was sitting on a rock, watching. Seanchai stretched and sighed.
“Does that help you with your powers?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Seanchai replied quietly. “Jermona, please tell me what a ranger is?”
The young boy answered with pride about his father and uncle, careful not to reveal names, and then he spoke about his apprenticeship. Ilana came over and listened, too. When Jermona finished, she invited them back to camp to eat.
“We need to pack up and keep moving,” she said. “The ranger will have gone for help.”
“Come on,” Seanchai said to Jermona. “Are you hungry?”
“Always,” Jermona said and smiled.
Back at the camp, there was a thick broth bubbling in a pot. Seanchai went to check on Ellendir. She looked pale, he thought, though he figured living underground would do that as much as anything.
He took his pouch of danseng root and picked up a small pot to make Mhari’s strength-building tea. At the fireplace, Ophera grabbed the bag of herbs and gave Seanchai a warning glare.
“I need to–” he began, but she just raised a small pot of water that had already boiled and put a large pinch of dried roots into it. She stirred and covered the pot but did not return it to the embers, choosing a place near the fire where it was close enough to stay warm.
“She knows her herbs?” Seanchai asked Ballendir, who looked on, smoking his pipe. “She knows to identify that this is a root and needs to brew.”
“Aye, she has served mah family for many decades. She loves Ellendir like a daughter. She appreciates yeh healing efforts.”
“And how does she feel about you?”