by Alon Shalev
Ballendir called out to the dwarfe, who replied with something curt that needed no translation. Seanchai laughed.
“Are yeh still sure you want me to represent yeh?” Ballendir asked.
“I would be honored,” Seanchai beamed. “It says something that a servant can joke with you.”
“She is no servant,” Ballendir said, his tone stern. “Though there is hierarchy in a clan, there is no slavery or anything like that. She could walk away tomorrow if she wished . . . and stay despite my wishes.”
He snickered at his joke as the dwarfe brought Seanchai his tea. “Thank you,” he said and she nodded. He wondered why she never spoke to him or in Odessiyan when she clearly understood. She kept to herself and Seanchai respected that, but his instinct told him that she was listening and watching keenly.
“How do we handle the boy?” Seanchai asked. “I don’t want to let him go off by himself. It seems cruel.”
Ballendir inhaled his pipe deeply. “Seanchai. He’s a ranger. They’re crafty, skillful and, above all, mercenaries. He might be a pup, but don’t let yeh guard down. I’m not sure, at this point, if I prefer to have him in mah sights. If we let him loose, I wouldn’t know if he was tracking us.”
“Do you have an idea of what we’ll do when we enter the mountains? We need to decide and move.”
Ballendir nodded and called everyone around. “We’re going to enter the Bordan Mountains today. I’ll guide yeh to a small valley with a lake. There we’ll leave yeh. If yeh stay there, we might return. If yeh move on, that’s fine. If yeh get chased out, good luck.”
There was silence for a while. Seanchai stared at Ballendir. “That’s it?”
“Did I tell yeh that I’m well-known in mah clan as a master strategist?” he asked with a smile. “Ophera and I will take the wagon and mah sister. You alone may join us.”
“What? What about my friends?”
“If yeh welcomed, then we’ll return to fetch them.”
“And if I’m not welcomed?”
Ballendir puffed his pipe and apprehension flicked across his face. “Then, my friend, if yeh have any chance of escaping it’ll be by yehself.”
“They might try to kill him?” Ilana asked.
“I’d say there’s a pretty good chance of that.” Ballendir replied from behind a thick cloud of smoke. “I warned yeh of The First Decree.”
“And you would let them?”
Ballendir’s face hardened. “Yeh don’t understand dwarf culture, Ilana. If they decide to kill him, mah axe will be the first to swing.”
Seanchai glanced over at the old dwarfe, who was cleaning up breakfast. She returned his gaze with a toothy smile. He was sure she understood this conversation much better than he did.
FIFTEEN
Ahad reentered the city and walked home. One hand held his purchases and the other was thrust into his pocket, fist clenched. He knew he was being followed. By now, he could sense the man’s presence.
Once inside his house, he went quickly to his room and packed his wares into a backpack. He had bought a fine, hooded cloak. It was thick and would serve as an extra blanket. He added two pairs of heavy trousers and a pair of stout walking boots. Then he took the new boots out and replaced them with the pair he was wearing. He would need to break in the new stiff leather, and he ought do it now since he had no idea how long he had.
His mother returned and found him sitting at the table in the kitchen, his head buried in a book about plant life. What she failed to notice was the map inside the book that he was memorizing. Next to the book was a sandwich with a single bite missing, and a flagon of mead.
“Is that all you’re eating?” his mother asked, and then looked at the cook.
“Not my fault, milady,” the large woman said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I try to tempt him, I do. Now, if I could put my stew into a book, he’d devour it, no mistake.”
Ahad’s mother laughed and ran her hand through her son’s unruly curls.
“Hello, mum,” he said and looked up. “I could do with that walk if you’re still offering.”
His mother beamed. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes . . . assuming you finish that sandwich.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t go on the field trip with your classmates,” Ahad’s mother said as they strolled through the gardens. “I know how much it would’ve meant to you.”
Ahad nodded and glanced around. Tall stone walls enclosed their grounds, and his father would have guards patrolling. No soldier would want to be the one who allowed an assassin or robber to get by. But after a few minutes of observation, Ahad decided there were no sentries near.
“Mother,” he took her arm. “We’re alone now, and I need to know some things. It wasn’t your decision that I not go on the school trip, right?”
She didn’t answer. When he told her that was as good as a yes for him, she didn’t argue.
“If anything happened to father, what would you do?”
“Why do you ask, dear?”
“Please, just answer. What would you do if something happened to father?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I like where these questions–”
Ahad stopped and pulled her around to face him. He looked at her intently. “I need answers, and I think you’re the safest person for me to ask. But I could go find someone else if you prefer.”
He knew he shouldn’t speak to his mother so sharply, but he held her eyes and refused to back down. His mother stared at him for another moment.
“Someone has said something to you,” she stated. “Someone has gotten to you, frightened you.”
“No one has frightened me,” he corrected. “Little frightens me.”
He looked at his feet when he realized this was a stupid thing to say to his own mother. “Please,” he pleaded. “Answer my questions.”
She began walking again and he kept pace. “It would depend how old you are. If you were still at home, then I would stay here. We would have enough money, and the Emperor would probably look after us. If you were grown, I would return home to Lake Merydyth.”
“Why?”
“This is not my city. I fell in love with a dashing young army officer and moved to the capital to be with him. But most of my friends and all my family are there.”
“Why don’t we ever visit your family?”
“Your father doesn’t get on with them.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “They aren’t great supporters of the Emperor. It was once a source of contention between your father and me. I go to see them once or twice a year without him or you. It’s better that way.”
Ahad nodded. His mind was reeling. So his father assumed that if she needed to flee, she already had a plan? He wondered if she could walk away from her own son. Suddenly he wasn’t sure.
“Tell me about Shayth,” he requested.
“Shayth? Why?”
“Because I need to know.”
“Shayth is the Emperor’s nephew. His father, Prince Shindell, and your father were best friends. They went through the academy together and fought side-by-side in countless campaigns. They had a very special bond.
“When you and Shayth were born, both fathers wanted to bring you together. Of course, they were always in battle or on a mission. So I took you to the palace and, in time, forged a friendship with Shayth’s mother.”
They had reached the pagoda on the edge of the Tarlach estate. The view was beautiful and they sat for a moment, each deep in thought. Eventually, Ahad broke the silence.
“Why did Shayth come to live with us? What happened to his parents?”
His mother turned slowly, eyes full of tears. “Both of his parents died, within days of each other. Your father was on a mission with Prince Shindell when he was killed. Your father felt responsible, and asked the Emperor if he could take Shayth into our house. He was heir to the throne. The Emperor had no children back then.”
“How did they die, and in such quick succession?”
His
mother stood and paced, biting one of her long fingernails. “I stood here many times with your father discussing that exact question. He made me swear not to share my theories or his fears.” She turned to Ahad. “After you, my son, I love your father, as I did the first day I met him. I will keep my word to him.”
“Why did Shayth run away? Why didn’t you go after him?”
“So many questions,” she sighed. “When the Emperor’s new wife bore a son, Shayth was no longer the heir.”
She hesitated, but Ahad was ahead of her.
“He fled? He thought he was in danger?”
She nodded, her back to him now, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Ahad’s mind was reeling.
“How would a nine-year-old boy know all this?”
No answer.
“One of you told him. One of you told him to flee.”
His mother swung round, her eyes blazing. “No,” she snapped, and then caught herself. “We would never do that. I think he overheard us talking, out here probably, and made his own decision.”
“Why didn’t father go after him?” Ahad stood, agitated.
“I can’t answer that,” his mother said. She put her arms around him and drew him close. “There are many rumors being spread right now. But what I know is your father caught Shayth near Galbrieth,” she whispered. “The Emperor issued a declaration to execute him in the garrison of Galbrieth on his birthday. Shayth escaped two months ago.”
“How? How would anyone escape from that fortress?”
“That is the question many are asking, including, I am sure, the Emperor himself.”
“Father is in danger?”
“Maybe.” She hugged him tighter and whispered in his ear. “And if he is, then we are, too.”
SIXTEEN
It began to rain as they entered the Bordan Mountains. The peaks were engulfed in thick cloud and they were quickly drenched and miserable. Their progress was slow on the wet, slippery rock.
“Does it rain a lot?” Maugwen asked Ballendir as he helped her up from a fall.
“Oh, no,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Just most of the year. In the summer it can get quite pleasant for a few days.”
“But . . . it’s summer now.” Ilana said.
They all stared at the dwarf. He shrugged, unfazed.
“How can you live in a place like this?” Sellia asked.
“Yeh hardly notice it after a while,” Ballendir replied, and then grinned. “Of course, it helps when yeh live underground.”
They all laughed through their discomfort. At one point, the wagon wheels spun in the soggy ground and needed to be pushed. When the wagon started forward, Rhoddan slipped in mud. His elfish swear elicited cackles from Ophera.
“Does she understand any languages other than Dwarvish and Odessiyan?” Seanchai asked Ballendir.
“Not that I know of,” he replied. “But I think the lad expressed himself pretty clearly. Aah, let’s take this path. The lake is not far now.”
The path gently descended and soon the lake appeared, as dull as the surrounding mountains and the sky above them. The path hugged the lake on the left for a short while before jutting away toward a tall ledge. There was ample space to camp and escape the rain underneath it.
“I thought this was here,” Ballendir said proudly. “It’ll serve yeh well. Collect some wood and dry it. Yeh have fresh water, fish to catch, and a beautiful view. This could become quite a vacation spot with a little imagination.”
They all stared out at the mass of gray.
“It is dry, at least,” Ilana admitted.
“Ballendir?” Rhoddan was still standing at the entrance. “Is there another way out of here if we get attacked from the way we came?”
Ballendir asked Ophera as everyone watched expectantly.
“She asked if yeh all know how to swim.”
While everyone unloaded food and dry wood from the wagon to leave at the campsite, Seanchai focused his healing energy on a still-unconscious Ellendir. He worried about her and what might happen once they arrived at the dwarf camp.
When he finished, he got down from the wagon and saw an argument was beginning. He hurried over.
“You can’t keep me here. Am I your prisoner now?” Jermona was the only one standing up, and his short sword was unsheathed, jerking erratically at whoever spoke.
“Put it away,” Seanchai said, his voice quiet but firm.
The young ranger half-heartedly pointed his blade at Seanchai, who knew he had no real intention of attacking.
“I’m not goi–”
“First, sheath your blade,” Seanchai roared. “We saved your life. Put it away.”
Jermona contemplated for a moment before doing as he was told. “I want to go. If they do come after me – and they still might – I need to be gone.”
Ballendir spoke. “He’s a ranger. Once he’s out of sight, he can track us the rest of the way. It’s out of the question.”
“Then let him go first,” Maugwen suggested.
“No. He could hide and wait to follow us. Either he swears to stay with yeh, or I’ll bind him.”
“Then I am your prisoner,” Jermona argued.
Seanchai knew everyone was waiting for his decision, as they had ever since they had fled Galbrieth. He couldn’t believe how things had changed in the year or so since he left his village. He was annoyed with himself for not settling this in the forest.
“Come with me,” he said to Jermona and led him away.
They sat on rocks at the other end of the camp. Seanchai leaned in closely.
“I cannot share with you where we’re going because, in truth, I don’t know. We’re both fugitives from the Emperor’s army. It seems a shame that we quarrel or use force against each other.
“I serve a greater good. I have been given gifts, talents – powers, if you will – and I have the opportunity to overthrow this oppressive regime and free all those who are enslaved or beaten down. Do you understand?”
Jermona nodded, and Seanchai felt he had the boy’s full attention.
“Whatever happens next is vital. I need Ballendir and whoever else lives in these mountains to trust me.”
“You don’t know who is here?”
“No.”
“It could be just a small family of renegade dwarves hiding out.”
“I hope not.” Seanchai didn’t reveal that he had felt a pull of power long before he had met Ballendir. “Either way, I think you’re safer here than on your own.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been through many battles with the people you see over there. Shayth is ruthless with both sword and bow. Rhoddan is a warrior in every sense of the word. Sellia moves without a trace, and her arrows never miss. They are all honorable and will protect you if you stay. And they are my friends. I will not go far from them.”
“What about Ilana and the little human? You didn’t mention them.”
“Maugwen doesn’t fight, but I feel there’s something special about her. I have yet to discover what it is. I’m not, in truth, bound to her like I am to the others. She’s new to our party.”
“And Ilana?”
“She is brave, smart, and an excellent guide. She’s just as likely to talk her way out of a difficult situation, as she is to fight. But if she needs to fight, she is relentless.”
Jermona was smiling.
“What’s so funny?” Seanchai asked.
“I think you forgot to mention that you would defeat half an army to protect her,” Jermona laughed.
Seanchai smiled. “Half an army? You’re wrong, my friend. I would waylay an entire army to save her.”
They both laughed.
“I like that you’re all so bonded to each other,” Jermona said as he glanced back at the others. “I’ve never seen this.”
Seanchai smiled again. “Then you’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” Jermona agreed.
Jermona did stay . . . until the middle of the night when, while on
guard duty, he met the rangers who had been tracking them. Though he provided a thorough and detailed report, he did not feel the pride that had accompanied him when he had begun this mission.
Upon his return to the campsite, everyone seemed to be asleep. Seanchai and the dwarves had left several hours ago. Jermona missed the big elf, but knew that as long as Ilana was here, Seanchai would be back. There were four other rangers out there tracking Seanchai and the dwarves. They would discover what secrets these miserable mountains concealed and help the general set whatever trap he devised.
Jermona could settle back for now and relax. He would emerge a hero no matter what happened. But right now, this didn’t please him. He woke Shayth to guard and lay down, his hands folded behind his head, and stared into the dark. He wasn’t feeling so good about himself anymore.
SEVENTEEN
General Tarlach stared out of his tent. Everything about this land was gray. The sky held rain-swollen clouds, and a thick fog stretched down the mountainsides. The ground was nothing more than puddles and churned mud.
He walked toward the big mess tent. He was anxious: anxious to keep moving, anxious to finish the upstart elf, anxious to catch Shayth, and anxious to return to the Emperor’s good graces.
He was worried for his family. He looked westward, knowing that troop reinforcements should arrive any day and that his fellow officer would bring word from the capital.
Halfway across the camp, a scurrying Bortand joined him, balancing a leather case probably packed with important documents. They didn’t talk, each turned inward from the damp chill.
The thirty men already inside the mess tent sprung from their benches as their general entered. Tarlach immediately motioned for them to sit and settled in the area partitioned off for him and his officers.
His table was quickly piled up with eggs, meat, bread and cheese. A plate was set before him, and a steaming cup of hot tea placed by his right hand. He looked up to thank the lad who had been so attentive, but he had already melted into the shadows.