by Jim Galford
Raeln nodded and looked at the flask before shaking his head and flicking one of his ears in annoyance. He checked over his shoulder for the girl who had given it to him before tucking the flask into his loose shirt. Knowing Raeln, he would give the flask to his mother as a gift without revealing where it had come from. He hated alcohol and rarely even drank anything stronger than tea.
“She had a nice tail,” noted Ilarra, trying to make Raeln smile. Instead, his annoyed look turned into an outright glower. He seemed never to find the same things nearly as funny she did.
“You know,” Ilarra went on, starting to lead the way through the woods again while Raeln sulked behind her, “sooner or later Asha is going to find you a nice girl, whether you like it or not. I’ve seen her checking out the young wolves on your behalf. If you don’t find someone soon, you’ll be stuck with whomever she finds. My father can’t make me marry, but I know I wouldn’t dare cross your mother. I think she wants grandchildren in a hurry.”
Raeln’s ears drooped briefly and he pointed at Ilarra and tapped the back of his hand, a gesture they had come up with as kids to indicate that the topic or gesture applied to whoever was being pointed at. Then, to make it a question, he cocked his head slightly in the way a dog did when confused. He was essentially saying, “And what about you?”
“I’m free, Raeln. With the schooling in Lantonne, I’ve got years before father can try to pick a husband for me again. By then, I’ll be a famous wizard and won’t have to worry about matchmaking. I can find my own husband and maybe help you find a nice wolf to settle down with before your mother decides to deliver a wife to you without consulting you.”
This time, Raeln stopped and patted his chest to indicate he wanted Ilarra to pay full attention. She turned fully around, knowing it had to be something important for him to insist on that when the topic was intended to be light-hearted.
Raeln pointed back the way the girl had gone and made a noose-like loop around his neck with a fingertip. Lolling his head to one side and letting his tongue hang out, he looked as though he were mimicking a dead person.
“I know she’ll die long before you, Raeln,” Ilarra said, realizing how serious the conversation had become if Raeln brought that up. “It really limits both of our options.”
The simple truth that the oath between Ilarra and Raeln changed how they interacted with “normal” people was one Ilarra rarely allowed herself to think about.
While other wildlings were of adult age by five or six years and elderly by thirty—the girl that they had passed was likely about eight—Raeln’s tie to her meant that he would live until she died. Whereas most elves might live two or three times the lifespan of an average human, often between a hundred and fifty years and a hundred and eighty, those like herself or her father would live no more than a hundred. The lifespans of both people involved in the oaths were changed, meaning that she would die many years before most elven men and Raeln would die decades after another wildling. He had brought that up more than once as a reason to avoid attachments, and she could not say he was wrong. Once they went to Lantonne, where she had heard no one performed the oaths, it would be even more unlikely that Raeln would be willing to consider a relationship with someone that he knew would die before he had even reached middle age.
This was exactly why Ilarra had turned to flirting. It was so much safer on everyone’s feelings, unless an eligible bachelor who was also bonded showed up.
“You two look miserable,” a man’s voice called out as footsteps crunched through the woods behind Ilarra. “Bad news from Lantonne?”
Ilarra’s eyes went wide and she looked up at Raeln to confirm who was walking up behind her. His curt nod was all she needed to feel even less at ease, though he looked easily as uncomfortable as she felt. Instead of watching whoever stood behind her, Raeln began searching the woods, his ears darting back and forth the way a wild animal would if it thought it was being stalked.
Turning slowly, Ilarra’s eyes shot straight to the elven man approaching her. He was her age, but as a hunter he rarely spent time with the same people she did and was not even seen in town very often. Shoulder-length blond hair and a warrior’s physique made her stomach clench with nervousness, mostly thanks to the teasing about her feelings by the other elven girls. Rolus was the man she had long been hoping would be her father’s first choice if he tried to convince her to marry. Then again, she knew nearly every other elven girl in Hyeth felt exactly the same way, including several of the more outspoken married women. Thus far, she had not gotten him to say anything more than “hello” to her in passing, despite some serious attempts…more than one of which had upset Raeln or her father, due to the low cut of her clothing choices.
Nearby in the woods, a grey and brown wolf wildling—Rolus’ oath-bound sister, Ishande—circled them, barely visible among the trees as she kept low. It was a habit she seemed unable to resist, always trapping whomever Rolus was speaking with. From what Ilarra could tell, Rolus did not even notice anymore. Raeln, on the other hand, watched the wildling girl as though she might attack. From the things Ilarra had heard of her, that was not a bad assumption.
“Sorry. I was going to see your father and Asha to report on patrols as he requested. I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard you two talking and thought I would check on you.”
Ilarra knew she must look terrified and wide-eyed, but she could not quite bring herself to speak for several seconds. When she finally managed to find her voice, all she could squeak out was, “No. Good news. Thanks.”
“Glad to hear it,” Rolus said graciously, touching his wrists together as he bowed in a traditional greeting between equals. He then looked past Ilarra toward where Ishande squatted in the woods, eyeing Raeln like a threat. Raeln watched her much the same way, his legs tense and ready to leap into motion. “We should get going. My sister is restless, and when she is left to her own, fights break out. She’s wanted to pick a fight with your brother for a while and I would rather it not happen today.”
Ilarra nodded and stared at where Rolus had been standing as he hurried off, unable to find anything more to say or even manage to turn as he hurried off. It was not until Raeln walked up beside her and gave her a “what’s wrong?” expression that she finally began to relax enough to breathe.
“Sorry, stupid crush,” she admitted, feeling foolish. “You know I’ve really liked him since I was a kid. I still can’t seem to talk when he’s around.”
Raeln made a point of turning to stare back the way that Rolus and Ishande had gone, then pointed at his own tail and smiled as he made a gesture that meant, “Nice or good.”
“Nice tail? I don’t think I’ve even looked at Ishande. She creeps me out, Raeln…”
Raeln smirked mischievously as he made a dismissive sweep with his open hand, and Ilarra realized he meant Rolus, a joke at her expense. Just when Ilarra thought he had lost his sense of humor, he would tease her with something like that. He was not entirely wrong, though.
“Not funny, Raeln. Not funny at all. But yes, he does. The leather pants the hunters wear are terribly inappropriate, my mother always said, though I caught her looking often enough. Can you really blame me? At least no one laughs at the men for looking at women that way. You can practically grope Ishande and aside from a few jokes at your expense, no one would think twice about it. I get yelled at for wearing a tight skirt, but you probably don’t even notice if someone was checking out your tail.”
Raeln twisted around to look at his own posterior and laughed softly as Ilarra slapped his arm playfully. Scooping her up in his strong arms, he took off at a run with her still struggling to free herself.
Ilarra, at least, knew those days were numbered and was happy to have Raeln indulge her a little longer. Childhood would end far too soon.
*
Six days later, Ilarra sat on a large flat stone near the wide beaten-down path that the merchants took as they passed through Hyeth, trying desperately not to sulk. For mor
e than an hour, her father had argued with the spokesman for the caravan, trying to whittle down the insane price they were asking for her passage to Lantonne. Judging by Asha’s glare at the gypsy that was doing the negotiating for the wagon master, things were continuing to go badly. For some reason, they had backed out of their earlier pricing after seeing that her father taught the young wizards of Hyeth.
The crunch of heavy, padded feet coming down on the dry leaves beside her tipped Ilarra off to Raeln’s arrival. He generally was too quiet for her to hear unless he wanted her to know that he was there. She had always found it amusing that he had to work to not be sneaky.
“No luck,” she said without looking away from her father, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose. The gypsy grinned at Asha and appeared to be putting himself in grave danger by doing so, if her expression was any indication. “We might not be leaving after all, if we don’t find a lot more money. I don’t think father counted on the gypsies haggling quite so much.”
The gypsies were one of the less frequent visitors to the trading village of Hyeth, but were easily the most difficult to negotiate with, somehow even surpassing the stubbornness of the dwarves. Even Altisian merchants—the enemy nation of Hyeth’s parent city-state of Lantonne—were more willing to work out deals.
Raeln growled and swished his tail sharply as he turned to leave, heading back toward the central field of the village, where trading of crops and goods often happened.
Turning on the stone, Ilarra saw that Raeln was not headed toward the daytime trading market, but rather past it to a large group of the village’s hunters and warriors. As they did most days, the younger combatants practiced almost endlessly, preparing for the next raid by the tribal people that lived at the outskirts of the woods, while the older hunters sat around the edge of the tree-lined area and criticized the youths. It was something Ilarra had no particular interest in…until Raeln showed interest.
She hopped up and followed her brother as he marched toward where five of the hunters were competing for the approval of the elders. The youths were playing a sort of rough game, with one at a time trying to hit a target with knives or arrows at a distance, while the other four did everything in their power to stop him or her. That included tackling, tripping, and punches that made Ilarra afraid to get too closer. All five were already bloodied, but grinning despite it.
“So, the warrior who’s too good to stick around and defend Hyeth shows his face,” called out one of the older wildling warriors, whose dog-like features were marred by old scars. Immediately, the youths fighting stopped and eyed Raeln challengingly. Despite his appearance of age, the old wolf was likely only a year or two older than Raeln. “The younglings are saying that they are better than you, Raeln. Care to prove yourself before you leave us and go traipse around the city? You’ll go soft there, I’d wager.”
Raeln’s muscles tensed as four more wildlings and elves stood up and joined the first five, circling him. He kept his attention on the speaker, even as his ears moved to track those who cut him off from Ilarra.
For her own part, Ilarra had no desire to be anywhere near Raeln when he was showing off. She was anything but a warrior and wanted to be as far from the violence as she could manage. Instead of entering the group of elders or the target the youths had used, she made a point of picking a spot far from the target, where she thought it was least likely anyone or anything might come flying.
“Don’t stall, boy,” shouted another hunter, an elven women that had a reputation for picking off foes with arrows before they were close enough to know she was even there. “This village has been forced to listen to years of bragging by your adopted father about your training. I think you’ve gotten rusty in the last few months, since the last time you practiced here. Prove me wrong.”
Ilarra knew that the comments were anything but friendly. Her father had paid a fortune to traveling soldiers and retired warriors to teach Raeln what they knew. Many of the other warriors had been tested in battle at a young age and resented the idea that Raeln was somehow their equal. Those who had seen him fight were likely trying to goad their trainees into a fight they would not win. At least, she hoped they could not win. She had no desire to go back to her father to ask for a healer to look at Raeln.
Finally, Raeln nodded at the two that had demanded he show his abilities off. Then, as though it were an afterthought, he tapped the money pouch that hung from his belt. He then raised two fingers to indicate a wager of two copper Lantonnian marks. Given the lack of money in the village, two copper marks would be a day’s wage for most.
“Put your tail where your money is,” snapped the old wolf that had challenged him initially. “I’ve got nine younglings out there against you. If you think you can beat them all, make it nine coins. I want this to be a good show to remember you by, if you’re running away to Lantonne today.”
Nearly all the hunters gave the old man a surprised look, knowing that was more money than was customary for any wager. Likely, most of the younger ones had never had that many coins to rub together at any one time. Two of the youngest studied Raeln with newfound nervousness, clearly wondering if he could live up to a wager that size.
Ilarra knew that Raeln had little more than that as his total savings. At most, he had fifteen coins in that pouch and that was still not enough to help her father’s attempts to sway the gypsy merchants.
Shrugging as though the amount wagered was inconsequential, Raeln nodded and pointed at one of the targets. Taking his only knife from his belt, he tossed it onto the ground past the line of hunters, where he would have to fight to reach it. He then beckoned the youths to come at him. Before they could, two more stepped out of the woods to join the teenagers. When Ilarra saw who they were, she groaned and began looking around for a healer in the crowd.
Rolus and Ishande bowed to Raeln and drew their swords. Unlike the youths who mostly carried wooden weapons meant to hurt and not kill, these two wielded steel weapons and both carried bows, fastened by leather straps to the large quivers on their backs. Aside from Raeln and the elders, the two hunters were considered the best the village had to offer.
“Well that changes things,” the elder wolf laughed. Holding up his own money pouch as he stood, he waved others to come to him. “Let’s give the boy a good whipping. Who’ll help me up the wager to twenty? He’s got a couple weeks on a wagon to heal. I want him to remember us!”
Ilarra’s stomach knotted painfully, but if Raeln was worried, he certainly did not show it. She fully expected him to back out, knowing he could not possibly match that wager. Despite this, Raeln bowed to the elder and then to Rolus and Ishande. The fool was going to go through with it. With dread, Ilarra moved a little farther behind the tree, trying to ready herself to run for her father at the first sign of blood.
The start of the game was a long time coming, furthering Ilarra’s worries. While the elders laughed and collected coins to meet the wager, Raeln slowly knelt down and closed his eyes, relaxing as the other warriors grew restless. It was his way, often meditating to ease stress and prepare his body for sudden exertion.
Soon, several of the hotheaded younger warriors began shouting taunts at Raeln, criticizing everything from his simple tunic and pants to the color of his fur. Of them all, only Rolus and Ishande stood apart, with Rolus calmly watching Raeln in anticipation and Ishande studying Raeln as though he were prey. Raeln gave them all nothing, appearing to practically fall asleep.
At last, the elder wolf shouted that the coin had been collected and called for the fight to begin. Even if the younger warriors did not fear Raeln, they showed some small degree of respect, waiting until he gave a curt nod to indicate that he was ready before they tried to jump him.
Ilarra squeaked as she partially covered her eyes. She had seen Raeln fight one or two people and come out unscathed, but for the most part, she worried too much about him to go to many of his sessions with teachers or fellow students. Eleven was far too many to assume he had a
ny hope, though.
Rolus and Ishande held back, watching as Raeln leapt to his feet when the first hunter got within range. He snagged the young elf’s weapon beneath the boy’s hand, twisting to yank it free, flipping it in mid-air. By the time the next warrior could reach Raeln, he had caught the weapon and spun, parrying the wooden sword of the next closest.
The fight became a confusing race to catch up with Raeln, with Ilarra struggling to watch all the weapons. Every few seconds, Raeln would dart free of the group with a new weapon, which he threw into the woods. Before long, the younger warriors were forced to engage Raeln barehanded, with the two older hunters waiting for them to finish before they joined in. The predatory gleam in Ishande’s expression had really begun to worry Ilarra.
Without weapons, the younger men and women—both wildlings and elves—stood little chance, even though Raeln kept none of the weapons for himself. He had stopped running and almost casually sidestepped the punches and kicks aimed at him, using his weight to knock several of the hunters off-balance. One, he kicked in the stomach, dropping the young elven man. Another he flipped, sending her tumbling into the trees nearby.
The group slowly shrank, with Raeln picking off another youth every few seconds. Through it all, he maintained the relaxed and almost peaceful expression, as though he could fall asleep, even as he drove the heel of his hand into the throat of one hunter and kicked backwards to drop a second.
When only a single wildling youth remained facing Raeln, with Ishande and Rolus watching from nearby, the wolven girl began backing away. She looked around frantically for a weapon, but Raeln advanced quickly, giving her little breathing room. Then, before she could fully turn in an attempt to run, Raeln grabbed her arm, spun her around to face him, and dropped to a knee to roll her over his shoulder. The girl landed with a pained thump on her back and curled into a ball, groaning.