Landmoor

by Jeff Wheeler

“Didn’t sleep well,” Tomn replied with a shrug, casting a surreptitious glance at Thealos.

  Sitting in the grass, Thealos rubbed his ankles. “How far are we from the woods where you found the Wolfsman?” he asked Tannon.

  “Another day’s walk at least. About half-way to the Shoreland.”

  Thealos had already guessed that. He knew the Trident River followed the western borders of the Shae kingdom until it split into three tributaries and dumped into the sea. There was a human city down at the base of the nearest one, a trading port called Sol. To the east, further away, was Jan-Lee, a Shae watchpost.

  “I’ve been thinking, Tannon,” Thealos continued with a purposeful voice. “If the Sinew dragon did kill the Wolfsman, it might still be guarding its clutch. You never found the dragon’s body, so it could be waiting for us. Have you thought about that?”

  Tannon nodded and sheathed another dagger into his belt. “We can handle a Sinew dragon, boy. It’s the clutch we were looking for and couldn’t find.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But at what cost?”

  “You scared of it?”

  “A wise man would be,” Thealos replied with an even tone. “Is anyone in your band an archer?” The way he had seen pock-faced Jurrow handle the short bow he had stolen, he didn’t think so.

  “A Flaming Arrow?” Tannon groaned. He chuckled. “We don’t need any of those.”

  Flaming Arrow? Thealos had no idea what that meant, but he shrugged. “Just a suggestion. I’m a pretty good aim, despite what you may think. Maybe I’d be useful in a fight, that’s all.” He let it go, let the idea seed and sprout in Tannon’s mind. He continued to massage his ankles.

  Tannon gave him a wary look and then glanced over at the bow next to Jurrow. “Let him loose,” Tannon ordered. “His bowels are probably near ready to burst.”

  The rest of the morning went by quickly. Gulping down some heavy porridge spiced with sugar and cloves, Thealos observed Tannon’s Band break camp. It disgusted him in every aspect. To the Shae, fire was more than burning sticks. It was a power only carefully handled. It seemed to Thealos that half the Rules of Forbiddance related to it in some way. Putting out a campfire or a hearthfire was done methodically, to make sure every ember died out. Ashes were buried and covered with stones. It was even Forbidden to char meat, so the Shae dinner platters were served a little rare. But Tannon’s Band burned even their stews, they kicked out a fire and left it smoldering, abandoning their responsibility for taming it. Their arrogance for the land galled him.

  They continued the long march alongside the river. Thealos watched the interplay between the members of the band. At first, they had all looked alike to him, but now he saw the subtle shades between them. Beck and Hoth were inseparable, keeping to themselves and joking about women and gambling. Both were considered handsome for humans and their thoughts were never far from the taverns they had left behind. Cropper was a skulk and always took the rear, his eyes never leaving Thealos’ back. Jurrow was pock-marked so badly that he had grown a reddish beard that covered most of his face. Tomn had Shae-green eyes and appeared to be the closest to Tannon emotionally. Twice during the trip, Thealos overheard Tomn say they should give Thealos’ things back to him. Tannon rebuffed him.

  After stopping to rest at midday, Tannon loosed Thealos’ wrists and had Jurrow give him the short bow and a brace of steel-tipped bodkins. Thealos fondled the wood and then re-strung it, feeling more confident with it in his hand. They gave him the bow just in case the Sinew dragon left its clutch and came after them. The bow came with a warning.

  “You use one of those against us again, boy,” Tannon said, “And not even the Crimson Wolfsmen will be able to tell you were a Shaden.”

  Thealos nodded that he understood. It took every bartering instinct inside him to keep his face straight, to hide the fear writhing in his stomach. But he had his bow back.

  * * *

  Before dusk, they reached the borders of a decaying forest of maple trees, nearly five miles wide. There was no road or trail through it, and the river cut directly into it, creating gulches and a network of gullies around the waterfront. As they set up camp again for the night, Thealos cautiously approached the wood and stared at the dark strips of bark splintering from the trunks. The trees were growing too close together, their branches interlocked, causing a web of leaves to blot out the sun. Huge bullfrogs croaked by the river, and the wind hissed as it shook the limbs. A fetid smell greeted him, something sick. Thealos walked around the edge of the forest and examined the trees. He touched the bark and sifted through dead leaves with his fingers. Craning his neck, he looked up to the top and listened for the familiar bugs and beetles. There were only a few but that gave him a little hope. No birds nested in the limbs, no animals scuttled away. It was practically empty of wood life – at least for now. Kneeling in the grass, he pulled up a clump of grass by the roots. He smelled the mud and then frowned and blinked his eyes shut.

  “What is it?” Tomn asked, crouching by him.

  “Forbidden magic,” Thealos said in a low voice. The others from Tannon’s Band crowded around. “This forest didn’t grow like this, it was twisted this way.”

  “It smells like trope,” Hoth muttered, stamping the swampy grass to dislodge cakes of mud from his boot.

  “But you smell magic?” Jurrow questioned skeptically.

  Thealos nodded. “Not just smell it, Jurrow -- I can feel it. My people are very sensitive to Earth magic, and we can tell when its been poisoned. It has its own smell.” He replanted the clump of grass and stood, brushing his hands. “I don’t know whether the Sinew dragon is in there or not.” Hoth laughed, but Thealos ignored him. “It takes a long time for the Earth magic to restore ground after it has been infected. If my people lived on this side of the river, we would help clean it up and it would recover sooner.”

  Beck and Hoth rolled their eyes. Tomn nodded with interest.

  “We’re running out of daylight,” Tannon said. “And I don’t want to go after it in the dark. Jurrow, fetch some wood for the fire. Hoth and Beck – see if you can find a rabbit or something. I’m tired of eating wild onions. If we find that clutch, I promised you thirty days leave in Dos-Aralon.”

  Hoth and Beck grinned at each other and started out in search of food. Cropper glowered at Thealos with dark eyes, but he met the stare with one of his own. While Tomn brought out the dirty cauldron, Tannon sat down against a jagged tree stump and started oiling his knives with a dirty rag. As Thealos stood there, he felt them all around, like ashy smoke that stuck to his clothes. There was a mocking look in their eyes as they glanced at him, except for Tomn. It was some grand joke that he was a part of but didn’t understand. Thealos knew they did not understand the Shae. They didn’t even care to understand.

  But the joke would be against them. Somewhere, in the thick tangled maple, he had felt something else. Something he had learned from the Wolfsman’s shawl and hadn’t shared with them. There was another magic in the wood, and he could sense it – like a pure chord of music none of them could hear. It whispered through the branches and hummed against his skin.

  Silvan magic.

  * * *

  Tannon smirked, the firelight painting his face in reds and oranges. “So did we all, boy. And granted, we did a banned decent job of it. But the truth is, you just can’t make someone obey who’s determined not to. Sure, King don Rion rules this valley in name, but the regional governors and the dukes actually rule. He has a strutting court in the city, full of his dukes and knights and princes. But down here, down near the Shoreland, it’s ruled by whoever has enough strength. There’s a saying that goes with it…”

  “What a man can take with his sword is his own,” Thealos answered. “I’ve heard about it. We don’t believe in it, though.”

  “Sure, Shaden,” Cropper said. “You believe what a man can steal with his mouth is his own. You could barter a man’s arm off his shoulder and he’d think he was getting a bargain. Banned liars,
all of you.

  Tannon scowled at Cropper for interrupting.

  “How did the Bandit Rebellion begin?” Thealos probed, dipping the rabbit meat into the stew. Tomn had been careful and given him a cut before he charred the rest.

  “You’ve got to look at it two ways, with two different leaders, Shaden. Back during the Purge Wars,” Tannon explained, “The Rebellion was by the League of Ilvaren – led by that pirate, Kiran Phollen. It was Shorelanders versus Inlanders back then. Phollen refused to obey the king’s summons and to pay the king’s taxes. It started a war that lasted for years. Sure, they killed him and all, but his sons lived. One became the new pirate leader, and the other formed a cavalry group of Bandit horsemen called the Kiran Thall.”

  Beck and Hoth whistled. “I hate the Kiran Thall,” Beck said with a shudder.

  “I see,” Thealos said with a nod. “Then what about Ballinaire? How does he fit into this?”

  Jurrow grinned, his red beard widening. “Inlanders versus Inlanders now. He joined the Rebellion, Shaden. And now he leads it.”

  “But why? What made him turn from don Rion?”

  Tannon took a long drink from his flask of ale and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Who cares,” he replied, stifling a burp. “Why does anyone?”

  Thealos was appalled. “You’re part of Dos-Aralon’s army and you don’t even know why you’re fighting?”

  “Why should I care about anything except getting paid? Does it even matter whose grudge is more important? It’s nobles squabbling. They’ve always done that. Except this time Ballinaire turned the Rebellion into a banned regimental army, and he does a banned good job keeping don Rion from sleeping nights. The dukes try and box him in, but Ballinaire wiggles out and stabs at the flanks. We’re always sent here and there, chase him to that ravine, follow him in that hole.” He scowled. “All we get is ten pieces a month. It isn’t worth enough to care about any of it.”

  Thealos looked at Tannon curiously. “Have you thought about joining the Rebellion then?”

  “They get paid even less. Remember those Kiran Thall that tried to woo us, Cropper? Showed them where they could put their seven pieces. But you know, Shaden, in our own way, we are a little rebellion,” Tannon answered smugly. “Here, you look thirsty, boy. Have a drink.” He offered the flask.

  Thealos shook his head. “It’s Forbidden.”

  “If you’re going to sleep with us, you might as well drink with us,” Tannon pressed. He offered the flask again.

  “It’s against my customs,” Thealos replied. “I would have shared the Silvan wine with you, but it’s already gone.”

  “What’s the banned difference?” Hoth snorted, gulping down his own. “Both make you drunk.”

  “One is Forbidden,” Thealos replied. “The other isn’t.”

  “Leave him alone,” Tomn said from the fire, scraping the sides of the scorched cauldron to fill another bowl.

  “What’s the matter with you, Tomn?” Beck jeered. “You wish you were a Shaden too?” He gave Thealos a cutting look. “Here’s a question for you, boy. You’ve asked us about the valley, but I want to know about your people.” His voice was slightly slurred, and his breath stank of ale.

  “I’m sure you do,” Thealos said under his breath.

  “Tell me about your land. Is it true that you pray to the trees? Oh, and what about that lovely lass Laisha Silverborne! Does she really dress in silk socks and dance around the Palace grounds? I’ve heard that. Haven’t you? She’s so high and snooty, some royal wench. Or do you dance just praying for a peek at her or does she come out wearing...”

  “You mock what you don’t understand,” Thealos said tightly.

  “Then I’m right, am I?” Beck hooted.

  “No – you’re just displaying your ignorance. Is it true that humans grunt like rabbits when they breed?”

  “What did you…?” Beck challenged, rising quickly.

  “Sit down, Beck,” Tannon stamped.

  “But you heard what he…”

  A dagger flashed in Tannon’s hand and the soldier stared back at it warily. “We need him alive. He’s been a good help to us.”

  “He hasn’t done a banned thing,” Cropper fumed.

  “I think I want to change my vote now,” Hoth said, giving Thealos a cruel look. “We don’t need a Shaden in our band. Kill him and dump him in the river.”

  Thealos felt a surge of real fear, but his anger proved stronger. He wanted to throttle Hoth with both hands. Containing his rage and clenching his teeth, he sat silently, glaring at Tannon’s Band. Tomn released the wooden spoon, his hand dropping on the hilt of a dagger.

  “There’s more of us who want him dead now,” Cropper told Tannon.

  “In the morning,” Tannon replied. “No one touches him tonight. Got that, Cropper?”

  “He’s just a Shaden. He’s got you blind now too.”

  “If you want your thirty days of leave,” Tannon replied, “you’d better start doing your job. Now stand watch.”

  “Tie him up, first.”

  “He ain’t going anywhere…”

  Cropper shook his head. “Tie him up, or I’ll kill him now.” He took a step forward, jerking the mace loose in his belt hoop.

  “It’s all right,” Thealos said, offering his wrists to be tied, trying to stifle the mounting tension. “I know the rules. And Beck,” he gave the other soldier a half-mocking smile, “we dance in white silk socks. They have to be a certain color.” It earned him a few chuckles from Hoth and Beck, helping to mollify the mood a little. “Come on,” he said lightly. “We were only joking.” Tannon and Cropper glared at each other. Finally, Cropper cursed and stalked off into the shadows.

  Thealos decided that he’d better not be with Tannon’s Band in the morning.

  * * *

  I’m sorry if they scared you tonight,” Tomn said in hushed tones, scrubbing the pot again. Thealos didn’t know why the cook bothered. Without scalding water, soap, and a chisel, he would never get it clean. Tomn sat next to Thealos where they could keep their voices pitched low so the others wouldn’t hear. Tannon snored like a bladder horn. Jurrow twitched in his sleep, his arm cradling a wineskin. Beck and Hoth were also asleep. That left Cropper in the perimeter. From the corner of his eye, Thealos could see him in the darkness outside the rings of firelight.

  Thealos studied Tomn. Finishing the pot, the cook plopped down and dusted his pants. His reddish-brown hair looked gold with the fire behind him. He had a splotch of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  “I am scared,” Thealos whispered. “They almost killed me tonight.”

  Tomn looked over at him, concern wrinkling his brow. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

  Thealos smiled sadly. “Four against two isn’t very good odds. That’s about how many humans there are compared with the Shae. You could say we’re used to being outnumbered, but not against soldiers. I’m not a soldier, Tomn.”

  Tomn tugged at the rim of his boot. “What does your name mean, Thealos? In your language.”

  “Thealos means ‘Spirited.’ I wasn’t the easiest child my Correl and Sorrel had to raise.”

  “Hmm,” Tomn muttered, wringing his hands. “You said your father…I mean, your Correl, was a cloth barter, right? If I showed you something, you would be able to tell me what it’s worth, right?”

  Thealos nodded. While Tomn went over to his own knapsack, Thealos glanced back at Cropper. His head had started to sag down on his chest. Good. The cook returned with a large bundle wrapped in oilskin to protect it. He untied the leather thongs and gently unraveled the fabric. It was a fine wool gown, cut to fit a human woman, made from a rich shade of ochre with a blue and violet trim around the bodice. It certainly wasn’t Silvan in style or pattern, but it was attractive.

  “It’s a nice gown, Tomn,” Thealos said approvingly. “I’d examine it, but I can’t like this…” He held up his wrists and shrugged. Let him untie me, Vannier. Let him untie me.

  The cook
made sure everyone was asleep and then untied the knots that bound Thealos. Thealos rubbed the circulation back into his hands. He took the fabric and quickly examined the seams. “They used the Silvan stitch-marking rules, good. Wool is a fine sturdy fabric, very popular in the city. The trim is also nice – I like the pattern here. Where did you get this?”

  “I bought it in Sol.”

  Thealos nodded. “You probably paid over twenty pieces for it.”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “A good price. You could sell it in Dos-Aralon for thirty and make a profit.”

  Tomn shook his head. “No, it’s for a serving girl I know. She’d look so pretty in it. She has dark hair and dark eyes. She said… she says she likes that I’m so quiet. Do you think she’ll like it?”

  “If you treat her as well as you do others. Sounds like she’s a rare woman. ‘Rare as a brown-eyed Shae.’ That’s what my people would say.”

  “That’s right, I’m sorry I’ve been calling you a Shaden. You have green eyes, like mine. I didn’t know Shae had brown eyes – I thought they were all blue or green or something.”

  “I’ve never met a brown-eyed Shae before either,” Thealos replied. “It doesn’t happen among my people. I have seen a few who are dark-haired, but that’s also pretty rare. You’re right. We have blue, green, or gray eyes, and sometimes a mix of the three. But I’ve never even heard of a brown-eyed Shae. That’s why it’s an expression.”

  “Ohh,” Tomn said. He fidgeted for a moment and then pulled another bundle out of his shirt. “I wanted to give this back to you. I don’t know what it is or what it means, but it wasn’t right for us to take your things like we did. We’d get in trouble with the army if they found out. Here. I’m sorry.” He handed Thealos the small leather bundle that held Arielle’s hoppit doll. A pang of homesickness struck his heart like a dagger. Thealos smiled, a sad smile. He’d never missed his family so much in his life.

  “Thank you, Tomn. It belonged to my sister. It’s just a toy.”