by Jim Galford
Sniffling as her tears froze on her face, Ilarra grabbed Nenophar’s sleeve and demanded, “Tell me what my place was supposed to be. Who was I going to be?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Tell me.”
Sighing, he lifted her face to make her look at him. “Ilarra of Hyeth was intended to have several children and survive the war with Altis,” he explained, holding her chin to keep her from looking away. “Your life should have come to an end when Raeln caught fever in seven years, killing you both. Your husband would have survived you by several decades.”
“My father? Asha? Greth? Did they survive?”
“The wildling returned to his home in the mountains. There, another of his breed would kill him in an argument over hunting rights. Your father died to a barbarian raid only a month from now, though Asha’s strength kept her alive for a time, seeking revenge that she never managed to fulfil. None of this matters now, as those fates were destroyed the moment the Turessians marched on your village.”
Nenophar waved a hand over Ilarra and it felt as though a weight came crashing down on her. Anger and a thousand voices filled her mind made her want to scream and to destroy everything around her until she felt better. All of the pain and fury seemed to abruptly target Raeln, willing her to find and kill him in the hopes it would ease her own pain. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the feeling vanished. She realized she lay on the ground, the snow soaking through her dress.
“That,” said Nenophar, reaching to help her up, “is what your mind looks like without either Raeln or myself aiding you. You are lucky your bonded friend remains close, or the protection he gives you would fade and even I could not keep this at bay forever. Had you sent him away or been separated, I never would have reached you in time.”
She stood slowly, the cold no longer even a mild concern. “If Raeln leaves?” she asked, panic beginning to set in as she thought about Greth and Raeln having left at least an hour earlier. She had no way to contact them.
“Then you will eventually either go mad or become the slave of the creature that did this to you. How long it takes depends on my willingness to help and your own stubbornness.”
“Can you help me? Will you?”
“Would I have come if I did not intend to try?” he asked, looking like he genuinely was concerned for the first time she had seen.
Ilarra stood as straight as she could, trying to ignore the chill of the weather. “Let’s go,” she said. “You asked me to let you know when I was really ready. I am now.”
Nenophar opened his mouth to answer, then looked past Ilarra. As he did, she became abruptly aware of voices behind her, growing louder.
“Arrest her!” shouted Therec, coming into the garden area with twenty or more soldiers around him. “If either of them resists, kill them!”
Nenophar smiled and stepped away from Ilarra. “You do not want to do this, heir of Turess,” he called out to Therec. “Let the elf child go. Nothing you can do will help her.”
“I don’t want to help her,” the Turessian shouted back, shaking with anger. “I want the girl tried for murder. Whoever you are, if you stand in our way, you share her fate.”
“Murder?” asked Nenophar, giving Ilarra a curious glance. “I smell no death on this one…”
“I believe I have been more than hospitable,” Therec said in a near-growl as he approached, making Ilarra clench her jaw to keep from laughing at him as she compared his tone to that of the wildlings she had grown up with. As he moved closer, the soldiers raised crossbows and aimed them at both Nenophar and Ilarra. “We both knew you were a spy from the moment you arrived here, but I tried to be reasonable and seek a balance between warfare and negotiation. This is how you repay me?”
“By going for a walk and nearly freezing myself to death…yes, I suppose it is,” she snapped back testily.
Therec sighed and shook his head. “I had you trailed from the second you left the keep. I meant sending your pets off to deliver news to Altis. You should have gone with them. I would have. Instead, you attack an innocent…”
“My men went back to their home…and what are you talking about? If you mean the guards at the door, they were fine when I left them…”
“More lies. Do you never grow tired of this, Ilarra? We watched your men heading northwest toward Altis. We did not manage to catch them yet, but we will. As for your actions after they left, I am well within my rights to execute you on the spot after seeing the brutality you inflicted on her.”
“Who are you talking about?” Ilarra asked, glaring at Therec. “You’re making no sense.”
In reply, Therec began advancing on them as the crossbowmen remained deathly still, waiting for a cue to fire.
“Nenophar, it’s time to go,” Ilarra told her companion. “Can you get us out of here?”
“Fire!” shouted Therec, pointing his staff at them. “Kill them both!”
A dozen or more crossbows went off as Ilarra was still looking to Nenophar. The man did not move, but the entire garden area exploded as something shadowy came down between her and the soldiers. From what she could see, a dome-like veil had fallen, shielding her and Nenophar from the crossbowmen. All of the bolts shattered against the barrier.
“You are in over your head, heir of Turess,” warned Nenophar as the shadowy walls lifted away. He grabbed Ilarra’s wrist with a strength she would not have expected of him. “Your eyes do not recognize me yet, but in time, I think you will.”
A rush of wind blinded Ilarra, and then the ground under her feet fell away.
Chapter Fourteen
“Gone Too Far”
Above all, use reason and the education you were given to work through situations without resorting to violence. In this matter, I must sadly use my brother as example. His willingness to turn to the military solution has long turned nations against us that I believe could have been brought into the empire by more peaceful means. Not all agree with my sentiment, but this is what I beg of my people in my absence.
Do not seek war when you can avoid it. Be better than I was and find your own path.
- Teaching of Turess known as the Plea of Peace, considered by most to be symbolic rather than a command
Therec sat his glass down and watched Ilarra hurry from the room. Each day, her behavior had grown more unpredictable, and he worried this might indicate she was nearing a breaking point or some deadline with her masters. He wanted to learn her intentions, not push her hand. The latter began to seem far more likely.
“Dispatch soldiers to catch the wildlings,” he announced to the guards, who had already briefed him on the situation. The courtiers appeared surprised, but they knew better than to gossip about anything the king or his spokespeople might say. “Bring them back to me in chains if necessary. Once the girl reaches her room, I want her secured there for her own safety.”
“Sir,” one of the soldiers said, leaning close so that what she said was confidential between Therec and herself. “Magister Arlind sent word that she intends to wait for the girl at her room to continue examining her. I believe she may already be there.”
“Good, that gives us her and whatever bodyguards she maintains, as well as her skills,” Therec noted, smiling as the courtiers began politely excusing themselves. The roaches knew when to flee.
“Will the magister be safe, and can we trust her to keep the girl from running?”
Therec nodded and gave the woman a look that he hoped chastised her somewhat. “Arlind is more than competent and I trust her more than anyone else in this city,” he explained. “The magister is my friend and one of the few people here I consider well enough educated to know what must be done. I will go to her immediately, but I have no doubt she can handle the girl.”
Wiping his mouth and standing, Therec settled his staff into the crook of his arm and began walking toward the stairs that would bring him to Ilarra’s room, while his soldiers ran off to gather others to hunt down the wildlings.
Halfway up the stairs, Therec’s head began to spin and he stumbled. His footing became unstable on the steps, and he sat down in a hurry, trying to steady himself. The dizziness passed a minute later, and all he could think of was the sensation of powerful magic being used somewhere nearby.
Therec’s thoughts went immediately to Arlind. If the magister had been forced to fight, a stray bit of magic could easily have had that sort of effect on him.
Leaping to his feet, Therec ran up the stairs two at a time, reaching the floor Ilarra had been placed on in seconds. He ran down the connecting hallway and rounded the last turn to the smaller passage that ended in her chamber, then stopped, nearly dropping his staff.
Blood covered all of the walls, and the door to Ilarra’s room stood open. The mangled remains of the guards who should have been at the door lay on either side of the hallway, torn beyond recognition by magic. Here and there, pieces of bone lay strewn across the floor.
“Arlind?” Therec asked, his voice weaker than he had heard since he was a child. “Magister, are you alright?”
Distantly behind him, Therec could hear the soldiers marching up the main stairs to join him.
“Arlind?” he repeated as he neared the door. The sheer amount of blood on the stones made it difficult for him to keep from slipping or move faster than a slow walk…not that his body was willing to speed up.
The last step was the most difficult for Therec. One more foot in front of the other and he would be able to see into the room. Only once in his life had he dreaded something as much as that room, and that was when his son had gone missing overnight after a raid by a neighboring clan. Then, he had others he could trust to help him search for the boy, but here, Arlind was the only person he truly felt could be trusted anymore.
Rounding the doorframe, Therec felt his legs give out and barely caught himself on the frame.
Arlind hung from a rope tied to the bed’s canopy frame. Her body was nearly unrecognizable, with much of her chest and stomach torn out. Gore had been spattered across the walls, as though whatever had attacked her had taken its time, taking great effort to do vast amounts of damage to her body before fleeing.
Therec leaned on the doorframe for support, trying not to lose his calm and rage like an uneducated man. It was nearly impossible, seeing someone he considered a friend torn apart like wild animals had attacked her.
Animals…like wildlings. They would hang for this, regardless of their claims, he thought angrily.
Stumbling weakly into the room, Therec approached the bedframe nervously. If he had been quick enough in getting there, perhaps the woman could be saved. He already had his doubts, as brutal trauma often diminished the chances of magic helping one whose body had died.
Closing his eyes briefly, Therec tried to shift his vision toward the spirit realm in hopes of seeing Arlind still there. That one glimpse would give him a chance of bringing her back, assuming he could repair the damage to her body swiftly.
Pain roared into Therec’s head, blocking his magic. He screamed and collapsed, unable to reach out to the spirits for aid. Whatever Ilarra had done not only had killed Arlind, but it cut her off from the only possible method of resurrecting her.
“Sir!” shouted one of the soldiers as they entered the room. The woman ran to Therec’s side and grabbed his arm. “Sir, are you alright?”
Therec nodded and steadied his breath—a difficult task when he saw his collapse had coated his arms and legs with Arlind’s blood. No longer caring about calm or his training, Therec got up and tore off his jacket, which most clearly showed the red stains.
“Get every man and woman you can find,” he snapped at the soldier, grabbing her by the collar to pull her close. “Everyone. If they find Ilarra or her wildlings before I can arrive, kill them.”
“As you wish, sir,” the woman replied nervously, pulling away.
Therec looked back at Arlind once more, his muscles trembling with the need to kill Ilarra for what she had done.
“This is my fault,” he whispered to himself once he knew the soldiers had gone. “The one person whose death could hurt me here and I did nothing to protect her. I may as well have killed her myself.”
Rage and guilt consumed Therec as he hugged the staff to his chest and left the room to search for his soldiers.
He would find Ilarra and make sure that she never did this to anyone again. That child and everyone she had ever known would die. Hyeth would burn as soon as Ilarra was caught, and every one of the traitors there would plead for mercy like Therec imagined Arlind having done.
They would receive as much as Arlind received.
Book Two
“A Life Apart”
Chapter One
“Mountain Springtime”
Raeln groaned and opened an eye as the sun rose over the mountain peaks, casting the first light over the rocky terrain they had camped in. The high pine trees sheltered him from much of the chill winds, but also kept the sun from warming his fur, which would have been a blessing after weeks of walking through snow that had frozen into his footpads and fur. He shivered uncontrollably, even curled into a tight ball under his single blanket.
“Morning, grumpy,” Greth said, walking past with a pair of rabbits hanging from his hand. “I went ahead and found some food while you were napping. Figured if I waited on you, we’d both starve before you woke. Couldn’t find anything bigger than these, but they’ll do for now.”
The younger wildling had chatted on and off for much of the journey, though Raeln had found little he cared to comment on. He had allowed Greth the endless babbling and criticisms, as it seemed to help him concentrate on the journey and not the difficult terrain and weather. On the upside, with Ilarra miles away, he had been able to respond as he saw fit, including telling Greth when he had gone too far.
Greth had been remarkably capable in the snow that still lingered on the taller foothills, which had impressed Raeln to no end. Whereas Raeln had struggled to stay warm enough and had slid often in the melting snow, Greth had forged on without hesitation, often coming back to help Raeln get his footing or offer suggestions for how to keep his feet from freezing completely.
Deep down, Raeln knew he was holding Greth back and slowing his progress tremendously, but not once had Greth complained about that.
“How do you do this?” Raeln asked as Greth handed him a cup of melted snow to drink. “The cold…how do you survive out here? I can barely move.”
Greth smiled a toothy grin and shrugged. “Blame my father for that. He actually liked the snow and ice…maybe a little more than was healthy, especially for me when I was a pup. Mother hated that he always wanted to take me out hunting in the snow, but those were some of my fondest memories as a child. Got used to freezing I guess. Besides, this is spring. It would be much worse in winter.”
“What happened to him?” asked Raeln, trying to rub some feeling into his legs and tail without success. The conversation was helping him wake up. “You said he had passed, but didn’t say much else. Ilarra didn’t have the courtesy to ask much about you, so I feel I have to.”
“Can’t blame the furless for being dumb.”
“That was not what I said, Greth. She is an intelligent…”
“No, she’s a loon with more power than she knows how to use. Bad combination that might get her killed sooner or later. I’m honestly glad she sent you with me. It’s safer for you and I needed someone to talk to.”
Greth said nothing further for a while, instead focusing on preparing a tiny fire to roast the rabbits. He rarely cooked anything as long as Raeln would have preferred, but having anything warm in his belly was relief enough to keep him from complaining, if
only out of gratitude that Greth knew how to hunt.
“My father was butchered by a Turessian,” Greth said at last as he laid a spit with the skinned rabbits on it over the small flames. “Bastard tore him apart with magic the way we tear apart rabbits.”
“You never let that show when we were in Lantonne. You sat near Therec more than once at meals.”
“He didn’t kill my father, but I won’t claim it was easy being around him. If I blamed every furless, Turessian, or hunter for those that hurt members of my family or pack, I would’ve gotten myself killed years ago trying to avenge one wrong or another. I may not like the furless, but I can’t hate them all for what one did. Therec may not be a great human, but I won’t tear his throat out because he was born in the same land as the creature that killed my father.”
“That’s a lot kinder view than I expected from you,” Raeln admitted.
“I’m full of surprises,” replied Greth. “Don’t push your luck with the questions, though. You may find some answers you really don’t like. Anyone living in the wilds long enough does things they aren’t proud of. Some of my old pals saw to that.”
They ate in silence, broken only by Greth’s occasional growls as he ripped pieces off of his rabbit with his teeth. Raeln looked away each time Greth did that, trying to keep his attention on picking meat from his own food with his short claws.
“You still can’t watch me eat, can you?” Greth asked finally, wiping blood from his muzzle. “Do you need a fork or will you be able to finish without one? I might have a napkin in my pack somewhere.”
Rolling his eyes in aggravation, Raeln ignored Greth and continued pulling at the bones of the rabbit, trying to get at the remaining meat.