“On the earth’s poor soul, what evil did this?” Elithéa cried. But there came no answer. Blood dripped silently and singed the grass, and the intricately designed helmets of the guards lay in piles, while sword and bow alike were strewn unevenly as they fell. The boy did not stir.
“I hold much distrust of the Al-Ferian, but this ... this is too horrid a sight for me to wish upon anyone,” Elithéa said. “We Éalgarth, at least, pay some honour to those we kill.”
“But you did wish it, did you not?” Aralus said. “By damning me and those who would harbour my kind.”
“You are not Al-Ferian, you beast! And those who would harbour your kind would not be venturing here in such numbers, and would never bring one of Low Age.”
Délin noticed the boy now, for shock had numbed him, and he ran through the maze of bodies towards the child. The boy did not flinch, nor did he look up with weeping eyes. He sat frozen, as if some creature had cast a spell upon him. Ifferon followed Délin, though slowly, for fear of disturbing the dead.
“Are you well, child?” Délin asked.
There was no reply, no movement, no rumour of acknowledgement. It was as if this was the crossing of two worlds, and the boy was but a shadow of one, while they were less than shadows in the other. Silence hung on a gibbet made of air, suspended by some astral hand, the pawn of a god too lofty to comprehend. Ifferon was unsettled by it, for he knew well that it, like the boy, did not belong there, though why he could not say. The silence felt like the anticipation of a primal scream.
“Are you well?” Délin repeated, kneeling down before the boy, the sound of leather and steel tearing against the stillness. The scabbard of his sword struck the ground as he knelt. The air shifted subtly, as if the dead had been woken by the noise.
“He most likely murdered all of these guards,” Aralus suggested. “So I’m assuming he isn’t well, Délin. Of course, you may come to your own conclusions.”
“Silence your foul tongue, Aralus, or I will silence it for you!” Elithéa screamed, and she raised her dagger towards his neck. “Your words are tainted and should not be uttered even in the very chambers of Nahragor.”
Aralus grabbed the blade with his hands, for it bore into the crevice of his throat. “If the boy did not do it, then perhaps it was done by Nahliners? But tell me, dear Elly, why would they kill all these guards and leave the boy alive? They are not known for mercy. Now, would you like to remove your knife from my throat? You have had your say. Will you have my blood as well? Perhaps you wish to show this boy what real murder is?”
Elithéa grudgingly lowered her weapon, but her eyes bore through him deeper than a dagger could. She turned to join the others, approaching the boy cautiously, for they all feared that there might be some truth in Aralus’ words.
“Look, he bears some strange device,” Délin observed. He lifted up a pendant that hung about the boy’s neck; it was golden, with red and blue gems buried deep within it. From the necklace hung a small plate of gold, oval in shape, and carved within it was a word in the Ferian style of hand.
“And so the dog wears a collar,” Aralus said, drawing up beside them.
“What is that word?” Délin asked.
“Théos,” Elithéa said, reading the script.
“His name?”
“Perhaps. It means ‘host’ in our tongue.”
“We shall call him Théos then,” the knight said, “until we know better.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Aralus said. “Now that we’ve named the pup, who wants to teach him how to walk?”
“He does not move,” Délin said. “This worries me, for even shock could be shaken off in time, and from my knowledge of battle it seems that these bodies have been here for many days, for decay is upon them. Indeed, it is as if this boy’s body is in this world, but his spirit is elsewhere.”
“His clothes are Al-Ferian,” Elithéa pointed out, “and yet there is something odd about them. They are so finely woven that it leads me to believe these guards were to protect him—though why they were slaughtered and he yet lives evades me.”
“I’ll give you my theory,” Aralus said.
“You’ll give nothing but half-truths and lies,” Elithéa snapped.
“Oh, now! Aren’t you a vicious one with vicious words, dear Elly, and you accuse me of being the viper? Cast your stones against a mirror and do us all a favour by it!”
“Enough of this,” Délin said. “Petty squabbles can be saved for another time more fitting. We have a child to deal with, not just the childish behaviour of people who should know better.”
“I would tell you my way to deal with this child,” Aralus said, “but I doubt I’d have my tongue by the end of the sentence.”
“A sentence for a sentence,” Elithéa said, “and your sentence shall be death.”
“Why, yes, that was going to be my suggestion, dear! I’m glad you agree we should kill the child with all haste and be off on our merry way.”
“I said enough of this!” Délin shouted, “or there really will be death to deal here, and it will not be this child. Heaven forbid that notion, and wisdom forbid the mention of it in a foot of my hearing again.”
“What then do we do?” Ifferon asked. While death was clearly not an option, he feared this child, though there was no obvious logic to that fear. The ominous anticipation still clung to him as if it were a morning dew, yet it hinted at a night of darkness never seen before in Iraldas.
“Leave him here,” Aralus said. “He will be an undue burden. Let the Al-Ferian send scouts to recover him.”
“Leave him here?” Ifferon questioned. “You cannot be serious.”
“He is but a lamb,” Délin said. “No man of honour would leave a lamb in the land of wolves and think he had taken the better choice.”
“The better choice was death,” Aralus reminded them, nodding towards Elithéa as if it were her idea.
“Then you are a wolf no different than the rest,” Délin said.
“Play the role of honour all you will, knight, but wisdom trumps honour, and wisdom suggests we leave this strange happening to the fate of the Céalari, while we carry out the fate of Man as we dictate.”
“For once, I agree with the hooded scoundrel,” Elithéa said, clenching her teeth. “Though I suspect not for the same reasons. If we bring him, he will bring us to oblivion, for he cannot control his waylays. We cannot afford to spring trees in such an empty place so close to the heart of evil and think that none will notice.”
“Then I will carry him,” Délin said. “As long as need be, but I refuse to leave him here. What manner of evil could beseech him here in the emptiness? Already he has seen much darkness, and I will not leave him here to encounter more.”
“And where do you think we’re going?” Herr’Don asked. “We’re not going to tend the gardens and mend the fences! We’re heading towards the Black Bastion. He has already seen much darkness, as you said, so why bring him there to see more?”
“It seems that I am beseeched on all sides on this matter,” Délin said. “Has honour departed from you all?”
“Not all,” Thalla said. “We lost two friends already, and we lost them by some evil fate. My heart would altogether crumble to know that we left another, an innocent child, to the mauling hands of that same fate.”
“And mine, Thalla,” the knight said. “I cannot leave him here, nor can I send him alone to Arlin or Boror. Sending him back to the Al-Ferian lands is no option either, for the Vigil of Tol-Úmari would find him swiftly.”
“I agree,” Ifferon said. “We cannot leave him here like a beacon to beasts. Perhaps the Garigút will offer him sanctuary. They are often kind to those outside their kin.”
“Then bring him!” Elithéa snapped. “But your arms better not tire, knight, for I will not have death on our trail, a trail of Al-Ferian waylays. Our mission must go ahead as planned, with no delays. I would see the Siege of Nahragor ere long, and my patience is waning. Time has already elu
ded us, and if this is what’s left of such a large Al-Ferian group, then the Matriarchate will want news of the Black Bastion itself.”
“I have carried many fallen comrades over long distances, and their weight was greater than a child,” Délin said. “My strength will not fail me, nor my will to see this mission through. If aught were to fail, it is the honour of some that I walk with.” He glared at Aralus.
“Aye, well said, Trueblade, well said!” Herr’Don said, nodding intently. “One road or another, we will come to Nahragor, and we will knock at the Gate until a clangour reaches down to the Halls of Halés itself! And now, let us get onto one road, or we will be stuck admiring the lofty Herr’Don and whence he gets these brilliant speeches. Sally forth, no matter where ‘forth’ may lay!”
Délin pulled the scabbard of his longsword around to his back, until it struck the case of his two-handed sword. Then he extended his hand and gently nudged the boy’s head up. Théos did not resist, nor seem to even notice that they were there. Beneath his green headband, intricately adorned with strange heraldry and elaborate leaf motifs, were frozen grey eyes, as solemn and downcast as the clouded sky. He was Al-Ferian, without doubt, and yet he seemed even foreign to their race.
Délin wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist while using the other to keep his balance, for his armour and weapons were heavy. He pressed against a rock to push himself up, cradling the boy as if he were some treasure of Arlin.
“To Nahragor then,” Délin said, hauling Théos up and over his shoulder. “Let us hope the Garigút have built dwellings, for I would not bring this child to battle.”
“Let us hope he does not bring battle to us,” Elithéa said, and her words lived on like an omen in their minds.
* * *
The group set out again, their number restored, though none of them wished to have this strange Al-Ferian boy in place of Yavün, who seemed more playful in his life than Théos was while now still young.
The child consumed all of Délin’s thought. He carried Théos over his shoulder as if he were a sack of meal, but at times he placed the boy upon the ground to rest, and to take his helm from his head and wipe his brow upon his sleeve. Then he would see anew the strangeness of the boy’s appearance. His hair was long and golden, straight upon his crown and curled towards the back of his head, where it seemed to grow wild. It also fell in great thickets upon his brow, with one or two large curls slipping into his eyes, and his ears were buried so that they were only seen when a fierce wind set his hair askew. It seemed that the boy’s hair was of a strange make, for at times it looked like grass, some strands dancing in the breeze like light, fair pasture, and others appearing like coarse hay, dry and brittle in the sunlight. On many occasions Délin thought that a piece of grass or hay had caught in the boy’s hair, and thus he tried to remove it before quickly ceasing when the boy yelped as a strand of his hair was plucked from his head.
But his hair, tucked into the complex headband, was not the strangest thing about him. His complexion was at once pale and golden, and to look upon him was as if staring through a translucent yellow glass upon a bed of whitest snow. Délin was familiar with the golden skin tone of the Ferian, but it was said that the Al-Ferian were of a darker shade, not lighter. Indeed, it seemed to the knight that the pallid look upon the boy’s face was an expression of some inner hurt, as if the very colour of him had been stolen or had leaked from some recent wound. His eyes were grey with blue speckled throughout, and they bore the sadness of aeons, like the memory of the breaking of the world.
“Why do you have those queer markings upon your face?” the knight asked the boy when he had set him down for the fourth time. Théos bore curled designs on his forehead, cheeks and chin, like the warpaint of the Garigút. The boy did not respond to Délin and the knight could not tell if he was frightened or simply did not understand his language.
“I was wondering that myself,” Elithéa said. She seemed to have taken special interest in this child, and how Délin interacted with him. She walked to the side of them, listening intently and offering a word or two when called for. “The Al-Ferian sometimes like to mar the body,” she told him, “but it usually only occurs in two groups of people: the Priests and the Pariahs. The former claim some nonsense about sigils protecting the body, either from the danger without or the danger within, and they devise all manner of elaborate ceremony for the carving of ink into the flesh. The latter group learned their trade from the former, but they mar the body out of open defiance of the Priests and the Matriarchate. I cannot imagine that this child belongs to the latter, unless the Pariahs have become even fouler and have started corrupting their young. And to the former I cannot truly appoint him either, for what is one of Low Age to the Priests of Alimror?”
“I cannot guess,” Délin said. “But it seems that the Al-Ferian valued him somehow, for there would not have been such an escort if he were not important. Ah, but there is the riddle, for why is the escort slain and not that which is escorted? A queer conundrum that I am at once eager to solve and loath of deciphering.”
* * *
“I cannot bear this,” Herr’Don said as they left the enclosing.
“I know,” Aralus responded. “It is folly.”
“It is much more than that.”
“I am guessing you do not like children,” Aralus said, holding out his hand as if to remind Herr’Don of how small they were. “Do not worry overmuch, for I do not like them either. They are too great a burden for one like me to bear. We must be nimble, not weighed down with such worries. And look at how it clouds the judgement of a knight. I know his virtues insist it, but it is an avoidable folly.”
“You are a callous man,” Thalla said as she passed them by. She spoke as if applying it to both of them, but did not wait for their replies. She walked briskly ahead, an indignant stride.
“Your girl seems to be getting a little out of hand,” Aralus said, laughing.
“She is not my girl,” Herr’Don replied.
“I thought ...”
“Those days are long gone now, it seems.”
“She broke your heart?”
“She tore it out with a dagger. I wish she knew what that felt like.”
Aralus looked at her and licked his lips. “A dagger,” he whispered to himself. He turned back to Herr’Don. “Who was the thief, the one who stole her heart from you?”
“A youth,” Herr’Don said, shaking his head as if to rattle the memory from him. “A youth!”
“I hope you did what is done to all thieves in Boror,” Aralus said. “I hope you removed his fingers for touching your property.”
“No,” Herr’Don said. “But that was not needed. It was Yavün. He drowned in the Chasm back yon.”
“Ah, so a happy ending after all!” Aralus said, laughing and clapping his hands. “And good riddance, eh? I am glad that he is dead, Herr’Don. I do not like seeing good men like you with the ill fortune that should belong to lesser folk.”
* * *
Délin set the boy down to walk for a bit, resulting in many stern glances from the harsh hawk eyes of Elithéa. But the knight worried little, for he could not see any waylays left by Théos, and if they were there, hidden amidst the brush, he wondered how any creature of Telarym or Nahlin would spot them in the gloom. He removed his helmet and held it by his side, and soon Théos became enraptured by it, for it glinted in the pallid light and held many strange symbols and adornments that caught the child’s eye. Thus the boy held the helmet as a toy, and he was struck with wonder, turning it this way and that, yet struggling all the while, for it was heavy and cumbersome to him. He placed it on his head and peered up at the knight from the eye-slits, and Délin thought he saw a subtle smile within those eyes. While he wore the helm Théos looked like a puppet with a swollen metal head, stumbling and fumbling about while the audience clapped and laughed, as was custom in the Jester-halls of Madenahan. But there was no one clapping or laughing, for many were silently worried
about the latest member of their group. A young and innocent child was all he was, perhaps, but the thought that there was a wolf beneath the sheep’s clothing was ever present in their minds.
“Do you think he might have killed the guards?” Thalla whispered to Ifferon. “I know Aralus mentioned it, but I think he was joking. I ... I am not really sure. It just ... Something does not seem right. Maybe he did not mean it. Maybe he is like an Aelora child or something, magic leaking here and there, like the waylays Elithéa was talking about. Maybe he got upset and the emotion triggered something, something bad.”
“I do not think so,” Ifferon said. “At least, I hope not. If that were so, then we are in more danger than we think. Ever present is the threat of evil from without, but I do not think many of us have given much thought to the evil that might lie within.”
Yet for Ifferon that was a constant, nagging thought.
* * *
Night drew in with the drawing of each breath and the striding of each leg. It was not long before it had caught up with them, turning the land to darkness once again. The night air was humid and clammy, and the blackness was oppressing; soon they yearned for the dimness of Telarym day, for night on the Plains was bleak and blinding.
The company toiled forth a little further, for there was no cover for rest, but as soon as they came to a ridge of small, starved trees, they stopped and made camp. There the clouds broke as they began their supper, and the moon came out, beaming down on them with a kindly face.
“Uldarus is out tonight,” Délin said. “Praise and glory to her!”
The Children of Telm - The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 21