by M. D. Grimm
“No, no. Come on, mage. Come back, Morgorth. Come back!”
I vaguely felt him shake me but I knew my body was shutting down.
The last thing I heard from him was, “I’m going to get help,” and then his receding footsteps, running.
Chapter Four
I woke up. That alone made me incredibly happy. Taking a deep breath before opening my eyes, my vision focused instantly. Despite some lethargy, I felt rested and no pain greeted me as I sat up, but then I realized I was naked. Scowling, I searched for my clothes and found them folded neatly on a small, short table by my bed. Well, bed was a generous word. It was little more than a glorified, foldable cot, but it was comfortable. Throwing the blankets off, I proceeded to dress, noticing I was in a small tent. It was tall but the area inside was cramped. Noises floated in from outside, the usual hustle that accompanied dialen tribes. I’d stayed with a few, before and after meeting Aishe.
Aishe.
I sucked in a breath and paused in latching my jacket. I was really here...in the past. I really had seen Aishe as a lad, his gangly self before he’d become a warrior. Gripping the table to stay upright, I steadied my breathing even though part of me wanted to run away, screaming hysterically. I shouldn’t be here.
I had to leave now.
Guilt gnawed at me as I finished latching my jacket, shoved on my boots, and walked out of the tent. These dialen had healed me. They’d used their own life energy, twining it around the damage the vortex had done, speeding up the natural healing process. They would have weakened themselves in doing so. Healing magick was dangerous—if a creature gave too much of their life energy, they could easily die. It was different from my own magick, which I could also use to heal, but it wasn’t part of my life energy. It was part of my core, but it was also something separate, something placed there by the Mother. Healing magick came from pure spirit, the energy that gave a creature life.
My Aishe, the present Aishe, had attempted to teach me how to use healing magick. But I wasn’t very good at it. It took a balanced, calm spirit to use and I rarely felt either. I was better than I’d been before him, but I would never be the healer in our relationship.
I had no idea how long I’d been here already, but I couldn’t stay any longer. Maybe if I slipped away, no one would notice—
Dialen walked and ran, laughed and fought around me. One elder was telling small children a story and they ate up his words. A group of females was weaving, chattering away, giggling. Some young lads grappled off to the side, shouting and hooting. The tribe flourished with life and commerce, and I could only stand there, dazed, as I took it all in. The knowledge of what would happen to this tribe, the Ravena tribe, in the future crashed down on my head, causing my stomach to twist and knot. They were going to be massacred, every last one of them. I swallowed hard, despite my dry throat, and rubbed my stomach. I had to leave.
A small tug on my trousers had my magick flaring in shock but it was still weak and only smoldered, far below the surface. I sucked in a sharp breath before looking around, then down. I blinked. A small slip of a girl stared up at me, her big eyes inquisitive, and her sunshine hair curling down her shoulders. Her hand gripped my trousers, and I noticed she had a small cloth doll in her other hand. She clutched it protectively against her chest.
Sweat formed on the base of my spine even as panic tickled my throat. Where are her parents?
“Um, hi,” I said, lamely. I wondered if she knew the common dialect around this place. I didn’t know her tribe’s language. She tilted her head and blinked at me.
“Where are your parents?” I asked as nicely as I could.
Her face screwed up and for a heart-pounding moment I thought she was going to cry. Mother help me, don’t cry! That was the last thing I needed: this tribe to think I was torturing one of their children.
Then her face cleared. “What is your name?” Her voice was soft, clear. She did understand me.
“Morgorth. What’s yours?”
“Lucia.”
I opened my mouth just as the little girl’s name was called.
“Lucia! Don’t bother our guest! I’m sorry, mage.” A young female ran up to us, her ramrod black hair barely brushing her shoulders. Her eyes were a bright green, her face sweet. Her body indicated she was in her transitional years; her legs reminded me of a colt. The young female immediately took Lucia’s hand, gently tugging her away from me.
She gave me an apologetic smile. “Please pardon her, she’s a curious one.”
Since the little girl had found her keeper, I let myself relax marginally. “That’s all right. Curiosity isn’t a bad thing.”
The older girl smiled and it lit up her entire face. “It might not be, but I try to discourage her from talking to every stranger that comes along. But I shouldn’t be so concerned with you. I mean, you saved my brother and all.”
My heart knocked against my ribs. “Did I?”
She nodded happily. “My name is Amyla. My brother is Aishe.”
Oh, this kept getting better and better. Memories flashed and I saw Aishe writhing in bed, the nightmarish memory gripping him close, screaming her name. He’d held her in his arms as she lay dying. With her last breath, she told him about the one who’d massacred his tribe. This tribe.
I grew cold and the nausea rose up again. I had to look away, my eyes burning, my heart racing. My magick pulsed in my veins as anger rose up to meet my other emotions. This young girl was going to die in a way she couldn’t possible deserve. I throttled back my anger as best I could, and it hurt, leaving an acidic taste in the back of my throat. My magick flashed hot once, before descending to my core where it simmered. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look back. I was blown back by her smile—it was sweet, innocent, guileless. Complete purity shown out of that face that only made my anger, my grief, want to flash again.
Amyla suddenly frowned. “Are you all right? You’ve become awfully pale.”
I swallowed hard, unable to force a smile. “I’ll be fine. I just need to—”
I heard my name called. I knew the voice.
“You’re awake!” Aishe ran over to me, his tunic wet with sweat, his hair tied back in a braid. I realized he’d been part of the group of young lads grappling. He stopped close, panting, a large grin on his face. He looked incredibly happy to see me, his eyes were so bright. I also noticed the bump on his forehead was gone. Seems I wasn’t the only one healed.
“So it would seem,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s great. We thought we might lose you.”
“No such luck,” I said as dryly as I could. My emotions were still bubbling under the surface but I kept them in strict check. I’d never felt sorrow like this before. I’d never cared enough about anyone to grieve.
Aishe laughed. By the Mother, it was the same laugh. The same laugh. The dam nearly broke free as I felt my eyes burn again. I fought it down, fought it back. Something must have shown on my face, though, because Aishe suddenly became concerned. He gently brushed my arm.
“Are you all right, Morgorth?”
I nodded mutely.
“Doesn’t he look pale to you, Aishe?” Amyla walked over to stand next to her brother, the little girl following. They both stared at me, their eyes unsettlingly similar. “Do you think our healers should look at him again?”
“No,” I said so firmly the two raised their eyebrows in surprise. “I’ll be fine. I just need to find my bearings.”
They nodded, but they didn’t look convinced. Amyla was slightly shorter than Aishe, and it was completely obvious they were sister and brother. Knowledge of what would happen to them still pulsed through my brain.
“Mage?” Lucia suddenly piped up. She jerked her hand free of Amyla’s and grabbed my trouser leg again. “Do you do magick? Can I see magick?”
“Come on, Lucia, don’t harass him,” Amyla scolded. But I noticed she made no move to pull her away from me, and both Aishe and Amyla watched me closely. It woul
d seem Lucia wasn’t the only one who wanted magick.
“Where are your—” I stopped, cleared my throat. “Where’s your chief?” I nearly asked them where their parents were, knowing their father was the chief. But I couldn’t give myself away. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about them.
The three looked disappointed, but Aishe jerked his head in a “follow me” gesture. The fact his emotions shone so plainly on his face was another thing that threw me. My Aishe knew how to shield his emotions, to control them, and chose when to display them. It wasn’t that he hid them, but he tempered them. This Aishe, though, simply wore them on his sleeve.
Aishe led the way and Amyla and Lucia followed beside me. While Lucia had a grip on Amyla’s hand, the one that held the doll, she still reached up and gripped a couple of my fingers with her other hand. I looked down, noticing she had to jog to keep up with my stride. I slowed down. She looked up and smiled again and when I glanced at Amyla, her expression was one of gratitude. A blast of protectiveness nearly knocked the wind out of me. If anyone hurt these girls I would kill them. End of story. I shook my head, scowling at myself. I hated my reactions but I shouldn’t have been surprised. I suppose, in some ways, I’d fallen in love with these children through Aishe’s stories, his reminiscences. It felt like I knew them already.
The air was sweet, a little on the cool side. It carried the scent of begsumer and the skies were clear, cheerful. The sun danced behind the branches above us, the leaves blocking most of its rays. The serene atmosphere was in complete contrast to the war inside me. We passed many dialen, most in groups, doing routine activities, or simply lounging, being social. I got looks, but most were curious. Everyone hailed Aishe and Amyla, who waved back.
“How long was I asleep?” I asked.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Just a night. When we reached the camp, night had fallen.”
Not as bad as I thought, but still bad enough. I had to return to where I’d awakened and hope to the Mother there were some stray hairs left. It was a longshot but it was the only one I had. I frowned. Drasyln could have killed me. Why didn’t she? As far as I knew, she’d never killed anyone with her magick; she wanted to cause pain, not death, since that would make the Council of Mages, especially the Hand, come after her harder. She was a manipulator, a conniver, and she used her words and her wiles to get what she wanted. It might come down to the fact that she was a coward, hoping the elements would do the job she couldn’t.
Or she thought it better torture to let me live with the knowledge of what she had in her possession.
As I looked around the camp, seeing so many warriors, I was glad I decided to speak with the chief. If I’d tried to slip away I would have been spotted and brought back, which would have led to awkward questions. They’d think I was on the run for a crime or something. Sure, I could’ve become invisible but I wasn’t ready to use magick yet. I felt better but I didn’t know how much damage had been done to me by the time travel.
Aishe led me to a large, purple tent that was heavily embroidered, though it didn’t look garish or pompous. It was actually quite beautiful. Without hesitation Aishe pushed back one of the flaps and entered. I stayed outside, with Lucia swinging my hand slightly as she looked around. She was humming softly.
Amyla kept glancing at me. “Are you really a mage?” she asked suddenly.
I eyed her. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just...please don’t be offended, but you don’t look like a mage. At least, from what I’ve heard about them.”
I shrugged. “I get that a lot.” I didn’t wear the traditional robes mages usually wore. I wore all black, except for my cuffs, hem, and belt, which were threaded with silver. My collar was high, covering my neck, my sleeves long to cover my scarred arms, and the jacket was latched down to my waist, where it divided into a cape, billowing around my legs. My jacket also happened to have protection enchantments woven inside it, making it better than most steel armor. It had been worth the sleepless nights to get the enchantments just right. Most mages, even the most skilled, didn’t have the single-minded focus to do such a thing. Or the need since they arrogantly thought they were indestructible. I knew better. But the enchantments could be worn down if bombarded repeatedly. Nothing was infallible. My trousers were loose fitting, extremely comfortable, and my laced boots reached mid-calf. The belt held pouches full of crystals, herbs, and a few other useful magickal items. I never knew what I would need in a fight.
Lucia continued to hum, rocking her doll. I watched her for a few seconds before impulse had me asking, “What’s your doll’s name?”
She giggled. “Her name’s Nuena.” Lucia held the dolly up. “Nuena, say hello to Morgorth the Mage.”
Some of the anger simmering in my blood cooled at the innocent imagination of the girl. I nodded my head cordially at the doll. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nuena.”
Lucia laughed and lowered the doll to her chest again. “She’s shy. But she says ‘hi’ too.”
I snorted. Amyla chuckled.
Aishe emerged from the tent. “They’re ready for you.”
“Thanks.” I gently tugged my fingers from Lucia’s grip. She frowned.
“I want to come.”
“You can come with me.” Aishe swooped down and picked her up. She squealed in laughter as he swung her up into the air, high above his head and spun around.
Amyla laughed and clapped her hands. “You’re a payshtha, Lucia. Flap your wings!”
Lucia did, her dolly flopping around. All three of them laughed.
I watched them with a heavy heart. He was so full of love. His face beamed like the sun as he laughed with her. It was so hard not to say something, to do something, to protect them. Warn them. But I knew the rules.
Amyla grabbed Lucia from her brother, continuing to spin her around. Amyla was full of love as well. Aishe told me she became a healer, a competent, compassionate one. She’d also been his confidant, their bond strong and unyielding. That only made the grief he felt at her death that much worse, that much deeper. He watched her die, unable to save her... How do you survive something like that? Watching them made my heart ache. It also made me miss my Aishe even more. The one good thing about time travel was he didn’t know I was missing. When I got hold of that bitch and used the stone to journey back to my time, I would return only moments after we’d traveled to the past. I didn’t have to worry about him. It was the past him I had to worry about and how I was going to navigate every conversation with him. But not only Aishe, the rest of the tribe.
Amyla set Lucia back on her feet, gripping her hand. It was then they noticed I’d been watching them. Aishe suddenly seemed embarrassed and scratched the back of his head as pink entered his cheeks. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Amyla looked a little breathless but she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed and Lucia was still laughing.
“You shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Aishe said.
“Right.” I looked at them a moment longer before turning and entering the tent. It looked like a regular home inside. Fur pelts blanketed the ground on the far side of the tent and several trunks, similar to my own, were set along the sides. A table dominated the center of the tent with chairs around it. Various weapons encircled the exterior and a large black bow, one I recognized, sat on the table. The chief’s bow. Aishe’s bow.
Standing next to the table was the chief of the Ravena tribe: Brelyn. I saw where Aishe got his eyes and where he would get his height. Brelyn stared at me with bright green eyes of stone, his tan hair falling loose over his shoulders and down his back. His tunic was the color of mature leaves, his leggings and boots black. He was considerably broad and looked like he could fight with a broad sword in each hand without breaking a sweat.
I swallowed hard, realizing how thirsty I was.
Aishe’s mother was no less riveting. The black hair she’d given her daughter was piled up in a regal bun, with a few curly locks falling around her face. Her dress was a bright,
cheerful yellow, her sleeves so big and long, they reached the ground. The dress accentuated her beauty without making me think she was trying too hard. She didn’t need to try at all; whatever she wore would be perfect, and her eyes, a twinkling periwinkle, regarded me with open curiosity, and gratitude. Her body was slim, but muscled, I could tell even through the dress. She stood about a head taller than me, which was irritating.
Taking a slow breath, I bowed at the waist respectfully. “I owe you and your tribe a debt I can never repay. Thank you for saving my life, and may the Mother bless your tribe.”
I rose to see a gentle smile on Nunya’s lips. Even Brelyn seemed to have relaxed. His eyes were no longer stony, his face no longer expressionless. He didn’t smile but some of the tension that had lingered in the tent, vanished. I didn’t know how often they’d had to deal with mages but most of us were arrogant so-and-sos, and I probably endeared myself to them with my humble thanks. Nunya suddenly approached me, a goblet of water in her hand. I took it gratefully and sipped despite my desire to gulp.
“It is we who owe you thanks,” she said softly. Her voice was incredible: musical, lilting, melodic. No wonder Aishe always spoke of her singing voice.
I shook my head even as Brelyn spoke. “You saved our son.”
I looked at him. Of course Aishe would have told them about that. I could clearly imagine him telling his parents the story, his eyes alight, his voice high in excitement. I cleared my throat and drank more water.
Brelyn’s voice was deep, but not as striking as his mate’s. It was a commanding voice, for sure, a confident voice used to giving orders and having them followed. I could like the guy. Which was bad. Very, very bad.
I finished the water, handed the goblet back, and barely resisted asking for more. I couldn’t prolong this. “I do not wish to seem rude or insulting,” I began. “But I must leave soon. I’m...tracking someone, and I fear I’ve lost too much time.”