"Oh, Master Ullin! Er, Lord Ullin, I mean. Forgive me for not knowin' ye," he bowed low. "I've gotten to be such a fool in me old age."
"No, no. None of that," Ullin raised the man up by the shoulders. "I am just a Kingsman, now, Mr. Deedle. Was that one of your granddaughters?"
"Oh no, that's me great-granddaughter, that was. But let me fetch out the pitchers an' haul up some beer!"
The pitchers came soon enough, foamy and full, and Mr. Deedle's grandchild helped put out tankards as the elder poured.
"Don't get a lot of travelers. Never have. Mostly just local folk an' folk from down Tallintown-way," he said to them. "An', ever once in a while, folk from Hill Town."
"What news of the Hall?" Ashlord asked.
"Things go on as they always have, I reckon," Mr. Deedle said as he wiped his hands on his apron. "I've seen more riders an' Talliners soldierin' about this past year or so, though they seldom stop by. Most of the menfolk been called into the ranks, to report after they've got the harvests in, an' some say thar's war to the east an' west an' south."
"And to the north," Ullin said. "Passdale and Barley were taken by invaders out of Tracia five days ago."
"Lo! Ye don't say! Oh, dear! I've a cousin over in Barley, a Bosklander, name of Mumpas. Garv Mumpas."
"Then we're kin," said Billy. "I'm Bilaylin Bosk. I know Garv, but I ain't seen him since the attack. I warn't thar at Boskland when the Redvests came, so I can't say what might've happened to him."
"Oh dear, oh dear! An' he's got a family, too!"
"I'm sorry we bring you bad news," Ullin said. "Many made it away, most to Janhaven. Perhaps you will hear from your cousin soon."
"So yer makin' for Tallin Hall?"
"Yes."
"To ask for help?"
They looked at each other, but Ullin shook his head.
"No. I doubt if much help will be offered, and we do not go to ask."
Mr. Deedle looked around the group, some standing, some sitting, and he nodded, picking up an empty pitcher.
"Ah, well, yer business, not mine. Redvests in Barley! That's purty close by, too," he said turning to fetch another pitcher, then, turning back, he said, "The day's gettin' on. Ye'll not make Tallin Hall before well after dark."
"We don't mean to," said Ullin. "We'll sleep out tonight, on along the way."
Mr. Deedle departed but returned just in time to refill the tankards.
"I don't think we'll be having another pot of beer," said Robby. "Will this cover us?"
He handed over several coins, and Mr. Deedle handed one back to Robby.
"Is it not to yer likin'?"
"Oh it is the finest beer ever," said Ashlord.
"Indeed!" agreed Robby.
"But we mean to move on."
"Yer welcome to stay as long as ye like," Mr. Deedle said. "We can find ye lodgin' for the night easy enough, if ye don't mind being put up in various places."
"No, thank you kindly. We'll be off in just a bit. I especially wanted my friends to taste your sweet beer."
Sweet and refreshing it was, too, golden-yellow and cold, and soon their second pints were gone, and they were riding away, with Mr. Deedle, and now his wife, as round and jolly as he, waving them off and bidding them good journeys.
Indeed, the day was nearly spent and after an hour or so, the sun was well behind the trees and the coolness of the evening was already descending. The road took them past many fields, dotted with cottages, and then upward into a deep wood.
"We can safely camp anywhere in these woods," Ullin told them. "Though I think we can go for another hour before it gets too dark to see our way, and I know a good place to stop."
The shady wood seemed gloomy compared to the open fields and sun, but their spirits were still high from the beer and also from being together. Troubles might be before them, and certainly they left many behind, but for now they all seemed content to do just what they were doing, so long as they could be doing it together. So they rode along at a good easy pace, enjoying the day and the peace of the surrounding forest.
• • •
"I still don't understand 'bout the Faere Folk," said Billy to Ullin. "I mean, why are they sometimes called elf, sometimes called Elifaen, an' other times Faere, an' so forth? Ain't they all the same?"
"Yes, mostly. It is simple," Ullin explained. "The Faerekind are first. They inhabited the world when it was still being formed. And they were made by the gods to be the embodied spirits of all good things, of sunlight and cool water, of stone and branch, root and vine. When the Dragon People appeared—no one knows whence—some of the Faerekind decided to take up arms and to fight them. The gods watched with dismay, but they did nothing as the Faerekind forged iron into steel and made their swords and arrows and bows and shields. When they formed themselves into armies, some of the Faerekind pleaded with the others, saying that war was not their way. And the gods listened to them and were aroused, and they offered the Faerekind a way to depart the woes and conflicts of the world. Many accepted the offer and departed from the world. Those of the Faerekind who refused to go out of the world, or who still had war in their hearts, were stripped of their wings and were cursed and called Elifaen, meaning the Fallen Ones. Still, cursed though they might have been, the Elifaen clung as much as they could to their ways, to the Faere spirit still within them that connected them all to one another and to the world and all the things that happen in the world, for good or ill. That spirit has faded out of them, for the most part. And they are still called the Faere People, though some hold that is not proper respect to those who departed. Later, when Men came to these shores, they began to call the Elifaen by a shorter name: Elf. And so it came about to be as it is today."
"But are you not Elifaen, yourself?" asked Sheila.
"No, I am not, though my father and my grandmother were. Man and Elf may conceive, but of the mixed unions, only those where the mother is Elifaen may bear Elifaen children, children who inherit the immortal qualities of the mother, including the curse laid upon all their kind. My mother was mortal and so, though my father was Elifaen from his mother, I am not."
"The curse?" asked Billy.
"So the children of mortal women and Elifaen males are mortal?" Sheila asked before Billy could pursue his question.
"That is so. Very few are born to such unions, but, even though the children are of the race of Men, they sometimes do inherit long life by the union."
"The curse?" asked Billy again.
"The mortal offspring are not cursed, and so do not bear the mark of the Fallen Ones on their backs."
"Oh."
"Needless to say," added Ashlord, "much tension and discord arises from both such unions. On the one hand, an Elifaen husband of a mortal cannot see his lineage carry on, except as mortals who may perish long before their sire. On the other hand, the Elifaen wife of a mortal supplants Men with her kind, sometimes to the ending of the man's surname and his lineage. Yet, mortals who marry Elifaen may be but one of many spouses, over the course of their mate's long and immortal life. They tend to be very jealous, these mortals, of their position and that of their children, if they have any. So the House of Fairoak, joined to the Tallins, is a very unusual family. Only a very powerful love could hope to overcome the inevitable strife and prejudice that would ensue."
"Ye mean between Robby an' Ullin's grandparents?"
"Yes. It was a passionate courtship that brought about their marriage. Lord Tallin was a brilliant and dashing soldier. A great general. It is said he won Lady Kahryna's heart by deed and gallantry on the battlefield, and by wit and charm in court. Is that not so, Ullin?"
"Yes. That is the gist of the story. And my grandmother had many Elifaen suitors, I have been told," Ullin said. "So I suppose her selection of my grandfather over all others was quite scandalous."
"So Robby's immortal? His mother is Elifaen, ain't she?" asked Billy, forgetting his earlier question.
Ullin glanced back at Robby, at the rear near I
bin.
"There are so few from such unions that no one may be sure," said Ullin. "Many males of such unions have died in battle, and there are very few females born. Mirabella is indeed of the Faere blood. She is this very month seventy-seven years of Men."
"Naw! Ye don't say! An' she don't even look half that!"
"But wait," interrupted Sheila. "I thought your grandfather was or is mortal. Yet, he still lives."
"Yes, he is one hundred and twenty years old. It is a strange thing, a blessing some say, but a man who has children by union with the Elifaen ceases to age as other men do. Some say not at all, but that is not true. I have seen the changes brought by age in my grandfather, Lord Tallin, that others might not perceive. And Robby's father is just beginning to gray, though he is fifty-two years, and he looks very much the same as he did when Robby was born. A bit heavier, perhaps. Mortal women are not always touched with long life as is given to men. Yet another cause of some resentment."
"So a mortal woman does not often conceive a child by union with an Elifaen male?" asked Sheila thoughtfully, falling back as she pondered.
"Oh, she may conceive," Ashlord replied softly, slowing his mount alongside hers. "She will not likely give birth, though. At least, very few have. Some say the gods are against such unions, yet that they, at rare times, do grant children who survive and are healthy. Ullin, here, is an example of such an exception, for his mother was mortal. Such children are hard for a woman to carry unto birth."
"Few have," she repeated. She turned her head to look back at Robby with an expression of confusion and concern on her face.
"I know what you are thinking, my dear," Ashlord said to her. "It is not your fault, and the gods are not against you. It is not the fault of Robby or any curse laid upon him, nor is it the fault of the child that would have been."
"But—"
"It was a vile man who took your child, one made the worse by drink and the influence of someone even more despicable than he," Ashlord told her firmly. Then he smiled. "And when I say that few have given birth in such a union, I speak of the past. Robby's hope, and yours, is in the future. You can only be guided by the past, not led by it."
"What are you saying?"
"Only that there are many mysteries to be solved. Curses, wives tales, and prophecies all have their day. Some come into light by reason, others remain concealed from our understanding, while still others are overturned, cast off, and forgotten. Whether they are fulfilled or thwarted is often a matter of the will and determination of people rather than the will of the gods."
"Then what good are the gods?" Sheila said in frustration.
Ashlord nodded and chuckled, "Sometimes even I wonder."
"So how do ye tell the difference," Billy was asking Ullin, " 'tween a mortal an' an Elifaen who ain't gone through the change yet?"
"You can't. Even the Elifaen can't tell them apart. The only difference in appearance between Elifaen and mortals are the scars upon the Elifaen's back. Otherwise, they look like everyone else. So, until a person goes through the Scathing, when the scars of the Elifaen form, they are not truly Elifaen."
"Hmm. That's very interestin'," Billy nodded deeply. He glanced at Ibin and shrugged, shaking his head. "I reckon."
Ullin turned his horse and led his party off the road and onto a path into the woods and uphill. It was a narrow track and wound past great oaks, forcing them to dismount to walk under the low branches. When they reached the heights, he showed them to a hilltop clearing ringed around its crest by the ancient stones of some long decayed structure. It was flat and grassy, and a good place to camp, and as the sun set behind the west mountains, they could see Tallinvale for the first time, stretching out in the distance to the south, a broad valley of forests and fields, and of lakes and streams.
"It's so beautiful!" Sheila said. "Like a dream."
"What is that glint, way off there to the southeast?" Robby asked pointing.
"The spires of Tallin Hall, a few leagues away," Ullin said.
"I'mhungry!" said Ibin.
"Then I suggest we make a fire and see what is in those packs," laughed Ashlord.
Soon enough a fire was going, blankets were spread, and a pot was hanging by a tripod with potatoes, carrots, and onions, along with some coined sausage, boiling away in a brown broth. Ashlord and Billy studiously watched after it while Ullin and Ibin took care of the horses and saddles. Robby and Sheila had already laid by a large stack of wood for the fire and were bringing a last load as Ibin and Ullin returned to the campfire as well.
"Doyou, doyou, doyouhavemagicalpowers?" Ibin asked Ullin.
"Ibin!" Billy hissed, shaking his head. The others were a little embarrassed, but said nothing since they were as intensely interested in the answer as Ibin. Ullin chuckled.
"None that I know of," he said, squatting nearby to smell the pot. "Though some say my ability to sense danger is uncanny."
"What? Yer hair stands on end, like?" Billy asked.
"Indeed. Yes, that happens," Ullin said thoughtfully. "It is more like a mood that comes with no reason, sometimes very suddenly, getting stronger. Over the years, I have been taught—and I have learned from my days of fighting in the west—ways of reading the signs of danger. Sounds, tracks, and so forth. But this mood, this feeling, is something other than that, something that can't be read, as a track on the ground might be or the nervousness of birds or horses. The first time I remember it happening was when I was a small lad."
Sensing they were in the mood for a story, he continued.
• • •
"After my father died, my mother and I moved away from Tallinvale and went to Glareth by the Sea. I was seven or eight, and I was very unhappy. I'm afraid I got into a lot of trouble, was disrespectful of my elders, my mother especially, and cared little for my school work. I suppose I missed my friends back in Tallinvale, and I missed my father, too, even though I was so little when I last saw him that I barely remembered him."
Ullin situated his saddle on the ground near the fire and stretched out to recline on it, pulling a twig out from under him and tossing it into the fire. The others sat around, listening, while Ashlord continued to stir the pot of stew.
"There was a tidal pool close to where I lived, and one day a few other boys and I snuck off from school to go swimming there. After a long afternoon of playing and swimming about in the water, the mood came upon me for the first time. I suddenly wanted to get away, though I couldn't say why. I threw a terrible fit when my friends would not leave with me. I began to panic, such was the fear that gripped me. I begged and pleaded with the other boys for us to go back home, but they only laughed at me. Although I did not want to walk home alone, I became so worked up with desperation that I abandoned them. Oh, they jeered, calling me a crybaby and so forth. As soon as I got on the path home, my fear only grew worse, and I ran all the way, a league or more, crying and screaming as I ran. When my mother saw me coming, she instantly knew something was terribly amiss, though I was in such a state that I could not say what it was, even if there were words for the dread that had overcome me. She quickly got enough out of me to immediately take a party of neighbors on horseback to look for the other boys. They found only one of the three lads, cowering in the rushes at the edge of the water. He was in such fear that he could say very little, except that the other lads had been taken away. Soon a larger party of men arrived and began searching. They searched for weeks, but no sign or hint of what had taken the boys was ever found. They questioned and questioned me, but, as I told them, I saw nothing at all to cause me to have such panic, and I couldn't explain why I acted as I did."
"A bar, mebbe! Er else, a wild boar!" exclaimed Billy. "Or mebbe some great serpent comin' up on 'em."
"Maybe. Afterwards, I became even more unruly than ever, and I begged my mother to let me go back home to Tallinvale. She eventually did so. And, for the most part, once I was back in Tallinvale with my old friends, I was happy. Meanwhile, the boy that I told you abou
t, the one found hiding in the rushes, he never regained his wits. He was eventually shut away by his family because of his ravings, and he became unwilling or unable to tend to his most basic needs. I went to see him, once, some years ago. Somehow, he recognized me immediately and was overjoyed at the sight of me, hugging me and holding my hand the whole while. He asked me—the first words, I was told, that he had spoken clearly for twenty years—he asked about the other lads and how they were doing."
Ullin shook his head and shrugged.
"I lied. Told him they were fine, living far away. That made him very happy. Three weeks later, he died."
"Lo!" Billy said softly.
The fire crackled and night settled suddenly around the camp, and no one said a word for a few moments.
"Tell me, how is your mood these days?" Robby asked, trying to smile.
"The same as it has been these many years," Ullin replied. "Though some days are better than others. I was worried the day the Redvests came into Barley through the Boggy Wood, but I paid little heed to it, thinking that I was nervous about other things. When Billy was kidnapped, I thought that was it, the reason for the mood. Who knows? Just because I have a mood does not mean I know why it comes."
There was another long silence as the group considered his tale. Ashlord looked at Ullin blankly, who shrugged back a silent apology for his depressing story.
"How many wars have there been with the Dragonkind?" Sheila asked.
"Many," Ashlord said. "Some short, some long. Ibin, break up some bread and pass it around. I'll ladle this out. The first war was when the Faere fell, sometimes called the War of Kalzar and Cupeldain. That was during the Time Before Time. In the First Age, there were many wars. The same has been true of this age. The Dragonkind invaded twice, the last time when Tulith Attis fell, over five hundred years ago. And twice in this age there have been large invasions by Men and Elifaen into the deserts. In between, there have been brief periods of peace and truce. There have always been skirmishes and clashes. Some say the first war, the War of Kalzar and Cupeldain, which started it all, still goes on."
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 12