by Alon Shalev
He filled his plate and sipped the tea, watching Bortand wolf down his own breakfast before he began his daily report. Despite three weeks of travel, Bortand’s waistline hadn’t slimmed one bit.
A rustle at the partition drew Tarlach’s attention. A ranger stood there, water dripping from his hood and cloak.
“Dry yourself off in the kitchen,” Tarlach said. “Then come and eat with me.”
A few minutes later, the man took a seat opposite the general, next to Bortand. He had a mug with tea, but nothing else.
“Not hungry?” Tarlach asked.
The man shrugged. “You should hear my report first. That is my duty.”
“As you wish,” the general nodded. “I’m listening.”
“Jermona successfully joined the group. He walks with them now for three days.”
“He was chased as I suggested?”
“Yes, by a sixer of pictorians. He ran right into their camp.”
“A sixer of pictorians? You were confident the elf could deal with them?”
“Yes, but the others are very good, too. There is a dark-skinned elfe who is quick with her bow, and the other two elves wield their knives with skill and passion.”
“You failed to mention the Emperor’s nephew.” Frown lines tightened Tarlach’s face.
“I-He is there and fights . . . very competently.”
The general glared at him. “You think I prefer not to hear about Shayth?”
The ranger met his stare and replied calmly. “It is rumored that the boy is a sensitive subject for you.”
“Such assumptions are beyond the scope of your, um, reporting responsibilities,” Bortand retorted hastily.
“My apologies.” The ranger lowered his eyes and said no more.
The silence extended, and the ranger scooped some food onto his plate. Tarlach recognized that this might be a rebellious response, in that if Tarlach wanted more information, he would have to relent. These rangers had a stubborn independence about them that both worried and intrigued him.
“You are right,” he said to the ranger, deciding to be conciliatory. “Shayth lived in my house as a boy. His father and I were very close. It saddens me to see the path he has taken, but, as an officer, there is no room for such sentimentalities. When we attack them, we will kill him if we cannot take him alive. It will upset me, but not change or influence my decisions. Please continue.”
The ranger finished his mouthful and drank it down. He had barely picked at his food.
“They have entered the Bordan Mountains. The wounded dwarf is supposedly still in bad shape. Jermona has not seen her but the elf tends to her several times a day.”
“What does he do? Is he a healer?”
“Jermona doesn’t know, but each time he leaves her after a session, the elf seems to want or need a drink. Jermona suspects that it is something energetic and therefore tires him.”
“Interesting. Go on.”
“The main party camps by a lake in the southern mountains. The dwarves left them there and have since continued north with the white-haired elf. Four rangers track them, as Jermona must now stay with the company. Some of the group are already suspicious of him, especially the Emperor’s nephew.”
“Then why don’t they send him on his, um, way?” Bortand asked.
Tarlach answered. “If they’re suspicious of him, letting him go means he can track the dwarves.”
“Exactly, my lord,” the ranger continued. “We have told him not to initiate contact with us again for now. We will signal him when we have need. The place where they camp is secluded, so it won’t be easy for them to flee if you choose to attack.”
General Tarlach nodded.
“As for the dwarves and elf still moving, we’re concerned that if there is a colony, there will be guards out scouting routinely,” the ranger continued. “It might prove more difficult to track them as closely as we can in the forests or on the plains. Dwarves know how to track in the mountains almost as well as rangers.”
Almost? Tarlach thought. Out loud, he asked, “Do you have any doubt there is a colony?”
“No, sir. Not if they are receiving supplies.”
Tarlach looked up to see a soldier he did not recognize standing at the partition. Bortand rose, went over to him, whispered something, and returned.
“He is the, um, advance from General Shiftan’s brigade, my general. I sent him to eat while he waits for us.”
General Tarlach nodded and turned back to the ranger.
“Continue as you are doing. Try and ascertain where and how large the dwarf camp is. When our troops are ready to enter the mountain range, you will meet us there. I expect enough intelligence to promptly plan an attack.
“Please take your food to the main area. I wish to talk with the messenger who has just arrived.”
“Thank you, General Tarlach.” The ranger bowed his head and rose.
“Good work, as always,” Tarlach said, but didn’t look up.
The young soldier entered and stood before General Tarlach, stiff as a plank of wood.
“At ease, man,” Tarlach said as he took a bite of bread and cheese. “Have you eaten?”
“A bit, sir. I will eat again when you dismiss me.”
“What news, then?”
My lord, General Shiftan is two days away. He brings a brigade of soldiers in three regiments, one each of men, pictorians, and dwarves.”
“Dwarves?” Bortand dropped his heaped fork. “I didn’t know . . .”
His voice trailed off as he saw that his superior was not surprised.
“I ordered them,” General Tarlach replied. “Long have we suspected that one day we might have to fight the dwarves. What better way, if we are to confront them on mountains or underground, than to engage them in battle with other dwarves?”
“So, we’re planning for, um, battle?” Bortand asked.
General Tarlach’s reply was swift and clear. “No. We are wiping them out.”
EIGHTEEN
Sellia crouched behind a sharp rock to stare out over the plains, seeking relief from the biting wind. She was restless and hated these mountains. It was nice, despite the cold, to be able to see open land. Sellia had grown up under near-constant sunshine, and had started to wonder if there even was a sun in this godforsaken place.
Sellia had been swept along with this expedition. At first, the idea was just to help Seanchai rescue Rhoddan and especially Ilana, who had grown up with Sellia in Uncle’s camp.
But she was drawn to Seanchai. He was bonded with Ilana and, in truth, she was happy for the elfe who was like her little sister. Being so strong and vigorous, Sellia had only once met an elf that was her equal. He was long dead and she still single. It wasn’t easy these days to find someone compatible – and now, she admitted to herself, to find someone comparable to Seanchai.
But this was not bothering her. She was not happy that the young ranger had joined them so easily. She didn’t trust him and didn’t like the fact that they were camping in a place with no exit. When he had joined them, the boy had said there was another ranger. If that were true, then the Emperor’s troops would know by now that they had entered the Bordan Mountains.
She saw the dust cloud to the south. The column of soldiers confirmed what the young ranger had said. But then, as she scanned westward, she saw another unmistakable column of dust. There were two armies coming, both converging at their single exit route.
Sellia put her bow across her shoulder and scrambled nimbly down the mountainside. They still had two – maybe three – days, but she was anxious to leave this depressing, gray country.
Her return to the camp went unnoticed. Everyone stood around the cooking pot engrossed in an argument took place. Sellia drew an arrow, strung her bow, and shot the mountain goat cooking on the spit.
Everyone jumped back defensively as she approached. “There are troops approaching, still a couple of days away, but I don’t want them to hear the row you’re all cooking up
. You might frighten them away.”
They went quiet and she told them to sit. She was the oldest here and self-appointed leader in Seanchai’s absence. “What’s happening?”
Rhoddan spoke. “The boy went off during the night. I don’t trust him.”
From their body language, it was clear that Shayth and Rhoddan were angry with Jermona. Ilana’s cheeks were flushed and Sellia assumed her friend was the one defending the young ranger.
“Well it’s a moot point,” Sellia said. “We must leave. We can kill him or set him free, but we need to move.”
“You would kill him?” Maugwen’s eyes were wide.
Sellia gave her a look and saw from the frightened expression on the girl’s face that she knew the answer.
“We are not killing him,” said Ilana, fists on her hips and her tone quietly firm. “We are better than that.”
The young ranger sat motionless. He looked very young, but not frightened.
“We need to decide where to go,” Sellia said, looking at Ilana. “We need to leave and somehow manage to be where Seanchai will be able to find us.”
“Perhaps we should split up?” Everyone looked at Rhoddan. “Some of us can head south and lead them away from here. The others can find another, more secure place in these mountains to wait for Seanchai.”
“Who goes?” Shayth asked.
There was silence. Sellia thought that everyone wanted to go and yet couldn’t leave Seanchai. Then she caught the boy glancing to the side. She moved off in the other direction.
“Where are you going?” Rhoddan asked.
“Call of nature,” she replied without looking back. “Want to come?” She smiled, knowing that Rhoddan was blushing. It had become her favorite pastime.
She slid behind some rocks, took her bow from her shoulder and noched an arrow. She moved higher, wanting to surprise from above whoever was watching them.
She moved slowly, ensuring that every step was silent. She heard him before she saw him. She rose above him and tensed her bow.
“If I lose sight of your hands, I’ll shoot you,” she said calmly.
The man didn’t appear scared. He spread his arms to his side. “I am a ranger, not a soldier.”
“Whatever you are,” she said, “you are my prisoner.”
The man shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Sellia felt the sharp blow to her head but not the impact when she hit the ground.
“Over there!” Rhoddan cried and they all turned.
Ilana immediately saw the two men running deftly up the mountainside and grabbed her weapons.
“Don’t bother,” Jermona said, the only one who had not moved. “They’re rangers. You won’t catch them.”
Ilana’s sharp vision saw her friend slumped over a rock. She moved forward cautiously, darting from cover to cover. But no one else threatened her, and she was soon at Sellia’s side. Rhoddan helped her carry Sellia back to camp.
As they lay her down, Ilana looked up at Shayth. “Is that necessary?”
Shayth had an arrow aimed at Jermona. “What were they doing?” he growled. “Planning to kill us?”
“Rangers are not assassins,” Jermona replied, trying to keep his voice calm. “They were probably trying to discover our plans.”
“You saw them,” Shayth said. “Why didn’t you warn us?”
“One of them is my uncle.”
“As soon as Sellia is ready, we move,” Rhoddan said. “Prepare your belongings. Ilana, Shayth, please help me with Sellia. You,” he pointed at Jermona, “if you move from that rock, one of these fine archers will shoot you. They are both very good. Shall we bet who kills you first?”
“How will I receive my winnings if I bet right?”
Rhoddan shrugged. “Good point. Just don’t move.”
Once it was just the three of them, they hunched over Sellia to inspect the wound. It was clearly swelling, but not bleeding badly.
“She’ll have a headache and a bump, but not much more.” Ilana said. “ It could have been worse.”
“Rangers are extremely proficient,” Shayth said. “They aren’t violent unless they have to be. If they’d wanted to kill her, they would have. Ilana? Do you understand what we need to do?”
“Move north,” she replied begrudgingly.
“Yes. We must go further into the mountain range and hope to lead them away from Seanchai. He won’t know where we are heading.”
Ilana sighed.
“I’m sorry to be leaving him, too,” Rhoddan murmured. “I know how you feel.”
Ilana stared at him and fought to suppress tears. It would be easier for her to stay here and fight an army than leave without Seanchai. She knew that Rhoddan loved Seanchai in his own way, but he was wrong: he had no idea how she felt.
NINETEEN
Seanchai was miserably wet. The rain had seeped into every nook and cranny, and within an hour of leaving the lake, he was completely soaked through. But more than that, he was leaving Ilana and the others again. Ballendir assured him they were not going far, so she would be nearby, but it was still hard. He would be underground, almost in a different world.
He had become used to walking together, waking with her next to him, having her scent near him. He realized separating from her would only get more difficult.
He was also tired. Ellendir was improving, but slowly. He was channeling increasingly larger amounts of energy to keep her alive, and it was taking its toll on him. He didn’t want to increase his dosage of the danseng tea for fear of using up his already dwindling supplies. He would have no chance to seek out the elusive herb anytime soon.
They walked for several hours without stopping, an apprehensive Ballendir glancing more and more frequently at Seanchai as they neared their destination.
They left the path and began walking downwards on a track that quickly narrowed to little more than the wagon’s width. Smooth rocks, reaching at least eighteen feet high, rose on either side of them. Seanchai admired the defensive capabilities of the passage.
When they reached the mountainside, Ophera turned the horses that had pulled the cart down the wider of two paths. A dwarf appeared. He stared at Seanchai as he silently took the reins. Ballendir turned to Seanchai.
“Would yeh lift mah sister out of the cart and follow mah.” He turned toward the narrower of the two paths and then back to Seanchai. “And please, Wycaan, no questions for now.”
Seanchai nodded, mirroring the gravity he heard in Ballendir’s voice. He lifted the unconscious dwarfe and followed Ballendir through a tunnel so low and narrow that he was forced to turn sideways and squeeze through. Ophera followed closely behind him.
The path turned sharply several times and Seanchai realized that this stone maze would be impossible for human, elf or pictorian soldiers to penetrate. When they finally emerged from the tunnel, Seanchai turned back to face the rock front and stretch his cramped muscles.
He was met by easily a hundred dwarves wielding arrows and spears. He noted that their weapons were thicker and heavier than those of elves, but he didn’t doubt they were just as effective.
“Try not to kill anyone,” Ballendir growled under his breath to Seanchai. Then he raised his stout arms and addressed the gathering. “The elf is with mah. He has kept mah sister from death.”
There was a shuffle and a few older dwarves pushed through the crowd. Their attire bore symbols and jewels, leading Seanchai to assume these were the clan leaders. One moved toward Seanchai and reached to touch Ellendir. He turned and called something in Dwarfish. A stretcher appeared and she was quickly carried away.
“Where are–” Seanchai began.
“No questions,” Ballendir hissed.
An old dwarfe, wearing a white cloak over shiny chain mail, turned to Ballendir. Her voice was deep and rich.
“He is not one of us, Ballendir. Why did you break the First Decree, a solemn and irrevocable oath?”
Ballendir cleared his throat. Seanchai could see
his friend was intimidated.
“Clan Chief Rothendir,” he said, bowing his head. “This elf saved our lives. He defeated a pack of wolfheids almost single-handedly, and then a sixer of pictorians.”
There was a murmur among the crowd.
“You saw this with your own eyes?” Rothendir asked.
“I did,” Ballendir’s voice was getting stronger. “As did she.”
Everyone’s stare turned to Ophera, who wrapped herself tightly in her cloak.
Ballendir continued. “And he has kept Ellendir alive all this time, administering energy to her several times a day.”
The clan’s leader glanced at Ophera who again nodded, and then stared at Seanchai. Still, she addressed Ballendir. “How? Does he possess stones?”
“No. He has no need of them. He wields energy through his body.”
Again a murmur circled the cavern. The clan chief stared at Ballendir for what seemed like ages. When she spoke, her voice was firm and resonated off the cave walls.
“Ballendir, son of Truendir and Balltir. Will you be the first to yield the axe?”
Seanchai tensed. He didn’t fancy his chances in a cramped room with a hundred angry and armed dwarves. He glanced at his friend. He certainly didn’t want to harm Ballendir.
“Aye, mah lady,” Ballendir did not hesitate.
“Very well,” the clan’s chief sighed. She looked up at Seanchai. “You will stay in the outer caverns for now, and will be guarded at all times.
“Ballendir pays you a great honor. He has brought you underground and offered his axe to defend you. Should you attack us, steal from us, or try to escape, his life will be forfeit. For now, go rest. We will eat with the council and hear your story this very evening.”
“Thank you,” Seanchai said and bowed because it seemed the right thing to do. “Does Ellendir require my help?”
“No. She’s in good hands. Our stones are strong.”
The cavern emptied, with the exception of four guards who stood in pairs at each entrance as Ballendir led Seanchai through one of them.