“Tellie,” Kelm growled.
She glared. “If they’re our enemies, I’m not telling them anything they don’t already know!” Turning back to the man, she demanded. “Now where did you take him? If you’re friends, you won’t keep him from us!”
For a moment, the old one just stared at her, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Then he turned, joints crackling, and gestured with his staff. “Come then. Our healers are already tending him in the healing hut.” He spoke a curt order in the strange language, and the children’s captors released their hold.
He led the way to a hut near a bubbling warm stream. “Tryss,” he called to the same fair maid who was just stepping back through the door, her arms full of white cloth.
“Wait a moment,” she said. “Master Holivari is washing him, the children can’t come in.”
“How long is that going to take?” Tellie said, tugging at her fingers. She stared at the thatch door, hating for it to hide the poor prince from her, however decently.
Tryss called in query in the other tongue, and a man answered in kind from within. “He is finished for now, but,” she cast an anxious look at the two youths, “I don’t know that they should watch.”
“We absolutely will!” Tellie cried. “And anyway, it’s not like we haven’t seen him already!”
“We don’t know who you really are,” Kelm said, “and I insist on being there for whatever you do to him!”
The young woman’s eyes softened in some understanding and she looked to her grandfather. “Ancient?”
“Let them go. What they speak is true.”
Tryss pulled the thatched door open for the two children. The inside of the hut was dimly lit by a hole in the roof and a few woven lanterns hanging on the wall. A pool bubbled on one side of the chamber and on the other stood a low cot covering in woven blankets. Errance lay upon it, lit with the shaft of light from the roof, and a man knelt beside him, busily tearing cloths into strips.
Tellie paused, head spinning again at the sight of the Aselvian prince.
Butchered. He looked nothing less than butchered. The blood and dirt had been washed from his body, leaving his skin as listless and pale as a corpse. Only his flushed cheeks and the occasional shudder showed any sign of life. A fresh cloth draped over his middle, but no other bandage yet hid the mottled bruising, burn, and gash across the marbled skin.
The room tilted before Tellie’s eyes. A hand grabbed her arm, startling her back into focus. The young woman looked at her with concern, gesturing to a seat on the ground nearby. “We shall try to save him,” Tryss said. “But be strong, he may scream.”
“No,” she whispered. “Not him.”
The master healer frowned at the sight of the two children and spoke sternly to Tryss, but she chattered back a reply that seemed to convince him however begrudgingly. He handed a mortar and pestle to Tryss, which she began vigorously working, before he turned to bend over the unconscious elf.
Tellie scooted a little closer so she could watch, though she tried to keep her eyes on the healer’s inspecting fingers rather than the wounds themselves.
Finishing grinding whatever herbs, Tryss poured the powder into a cup of milk and bent to spoon it into Errance’s mouth.
“What is that?” Tellie asked anxiously.
“Lyofieth. It will keep him asleep,” she answered.
The healer reached for a kettle of steaming hot water and withdrew a knife, then turned the blade towards Errance.
“What are you doing?” Kelm shouted, lunging forward.
The man startled, shoving an arm out to keep the boy away, but Tryss leaned forward to press Kelm back. “Infected wounds are closed, and he must open them if they are to be properly cleaned,” she said.
Kelm turned suspicious eyes from the knife to the careless cauterization and stitching slashed across the tortured figure, and at last he drew back. Tellie closed her eyes as the knife descended.
“There’s not much blood,” Kelm said, surprised.
“No.” Tryss’s voice was grim, strained. “There is not.”
For the next hour the children sat in anxiety as the strangers washed Errance’s wounds, spread them with salve, and wrapped him up in bandages till he looked very much like a body to be buried.
Tryss washed her hands in water drawn from the pool and stood with a stretch of her back. “Master Holivari says there is nothing more to be done but to keep water in his body and change the bandages when needed. It is late and you both look tired. Come on, I will show you where you might sleep.”
“But—” Tellie glanced at Errance’s still form. “But what if he wakes? We must be here if he’s frightened.”
“He’ll not wake for some while yet with as much Lyofieth as is in him,” she replied, holding out an encouraging hand. “He will sleep soundly, and in that, he may recover. Come on.”
Tellie looked at Kelm and she saw her own weariness reflected in his eyes, so she accepted the hand and let herself be led out of the room. Evening was falling, she realized, and shadows had cast over the village. She looked back one time to see Errance asleep in the warm, glowing hut before the door closed and hid him from view.
oOo
Among the glow of stars and dancing fireflies of the jungle, the figure stood, bent head cupped in his hand. When the One came alongside him, he lifted his face and smiled through his tears. “He is free.”
“Not yet.” A gentle, but painful reminder.
“Still, he has escaped in body. I never thought I’d live to see the day.” He laughed softly, considering his words. “Well. I don’t suppose I have.”
“You are more alive than ever,” the One said with a chuckle.
“Yes…yes…and seeing him again. He…is much altered.” The smile faded from both their faces. “Was there no other way, my Lord?”
“There are many things that might have changed in history if a different choice had been made.”
“If only I had taught him better,” the first said, his voice catching. “If I'd had the courage to reveal my own past more, I might have spared him so much.”
“You gave everything you could to him. His choices are his own, and the Darkness will plague his steps. But do not fear, for I am ever with him.”
There was silence. Then the first said, “Is it time for her to aid me?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
11
oOo
Pain pulses far away and may it stay that distance. I might be able to stop it if I drew near, but I’ll find no victory in fighting this Darkness crushing me. Voices hiss in my ear, but I do not respond or rather I cannot. Something stirs at the edge of my consciousness, a flicker of true thought. Another voice, this one foreign yet somehow familiar, whispers that this pain is not meant for harm. If I could only laugh.
Pain always harms.
Aselvia was still. Not a sound stirred the night, not a bird’s cry, an elk’s bugle, or a wolf’s howl. The lights that flickered in the forest winked out one by one. Only the leaves trembled in an invisible breeze.
The same tremble ran through Casara’s hands as she swept a brush through the long hair of the woman seated in front of her. It was her habit to brush her mother’s hair at morning and night, a calming ritual, but tonight it brought little comfort.
They had lit their candles at twilight for Rendar’s memorial, and then a good half of Aselvia had made their departure, Leoren at their head. Rendar’s death had shocked all of them, but the blow had been doubled with the hope that Errance was still alive. And now the kingdom was silent in the wake of their army’s departure, doing what Casara was doing now—processing.
Her mother hadn’t said a word the entire evening, and Casara wondered just how aware she was of the changes that had so suddenly taken place these last few days. True, she’d tried to keep most of the chaos away because she couldn’t stand to let more hurt chase her mother further into whatever world she hid in. Tragedy had marked the woman’s life from the beginning o
f the dark days, reflected in the silver strands that streaked her long dark hair. She’d lost her husband, two children, a grandson, and now her son-in-law, the king. But with this hope of Errance…perhaps the grandson could be a life restored.
Perhaps it wasn’t true. Perhaps the rescue would fail. Yet she spoke the hope anyway. “Maava…Errance…he’s alive. Leoren has gone to bring him home.” She leaned forward, trying to see any glimmer that she’d been heard. But the only flicker in the woman’s eyes was that of candlelight. Her face remained the same serene blank it usually was. Some days were better. Tonight was not one of them.
She sighed and leaned back, the brush fumbling from her hand and dropping to the ground with a thud in a dull echo of her heart.
Not a moment later, a knock came at the door, and a bright-eyed young woman peered in. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Dahlya.”
The healer’s daughter slipped in, her usual cheeriness replaced by a restless anxiety. “Can I talk about…him…in front of her?” She glanced at the quiet queen mother.
“I already tried telling her, but I don’t think she’s hearing, so there’s no harm anyway.”
Not needing a second invitation, Dahlya plopped down onto the settee beside them. “He was such a sweet little baby. And he grew up so well. Daava and brother are talking; they’re worried about what condition he’ll be in when he’s brought back, but if anyone can help him, they can. Besides, he has the light from his mother.”
“If they can rescue him,” Casara said without meaning to. It was a horribly hopeless thing to say, but she’d had her share of disappointments in life. “Rendar seemed to indicate the orphan girl we found would be the key, though heavens know how, and I’m so…” Her voice shook, and she sank her head into her hands.
“Tellie is her name, yes?” Dahlya said hesitantly. “You were bringing her here before she vanished, I heard?”
“I had thought…” Casara said. “I had thought for a few wonderful moments that I would have a daughter of my own. If I couldn’t have a second child, this would be my chance. And she needed a mother. But instead, we’ve thrown her into the worst sort of danger by involving her in all this.”
“So you were going to adopt her?” Dahlya’s head tilted in interest. “Are human children much different from ours?”
“Not from what I’ve heard. We all have the same Designer, after all. And anyway, she couldn’t shock me more than my own son.”
Dahlya gave her usual bubble of laughter. “That’s true.”
“Errance.”
The whisper-soft voice startled them both, and they stared at the old queen. Casara threaded her mother’s thick hair through her hands and began plaiting. “Yes, Maava, Errance. Do you remember? How Errance would bring you flowers so I could braid them into your hair? How he and the little miss daisha would play at your feet? Do you remember how strong he grew up? How handsome?”
But the old queen said nothing more.
oOo
Soft sunshine brushed gentle fingers across Tellie’s face and her eyes fluttered open under its caress. For a moment, she pressed a little deeper into her bed, quite unbothered by the certain scolding from Missus Norne…
She bolted upright with a shrill gasp.
No, she was nowhere near the inn, she was in a strange little hut in the middle of the jungle far from the land she knew! And then there was Errance, and the Voice, and the strange people who had found them. All of it descended in a whirl, and she caught her reeling head between her hands.
“It’s all right,” a female voice said sweetly. “You’ve had a long sleep.”
Tellie squinted up to see the sunlight had swept in from the open door where Tryss stood. A little of her fear slid away, and she rubbed her eyes. “H-how long have I been sleeping?”
“You fell asleep yesterday afternoon, and it is afternoon now.”
“What?” Tellie yelped. “What?”
“You seemed very tired, dear, so it’s no surprise. When did you sleep last?”
“I…I don’t know.” She rubbed her aching neck, feeling the crust of dirt on skin.
“How about a bath?” Tryss said, helping her to her feet. “I won’t lie—you need it badly.”
“What about Errance?”
“He hasn’t woken.”
“And Kelm?”
“He’s been up twice already, demanding to see you and your elf friend. I think he’s finally beginning to trust us, so he’s sleeping soundly now.” She shifted several folds of cloth under her arm and gestured out the door with a merry flick of her chin.
Tellie stumbled out after her, blinking at the golden green world. The people were about their work as before and as Tellie was led past them, they paused in whatever they were doing and stared at her. She blushed to think of how she looked and what state her poor dress was in, but she stared back just as openly. They wore such different clothes than she’d ever seen, quilted fabric fitting their forms and gathered tunics over that. All of them had hair as bright as the sunlight, and now she noticed their ears were not even slightly human, instead shaped like a fawn’s, but small and against the scalp.
“So…you don’t live in the North. Where exactly are we then?”
“This is East Orim. And yes, most chemas live up North and are…” Tryss paused, biting her lip in careful consideration, “…different than us. My Grandfather, the Ancient of our tribe, led his people to this land many years ago so they might develop a new culture and life.”
“Oh,” Tellie said, but she mostly only heard the words East Orim. So far away and across the sea! It was mind-boggling to think about, especially since they had to return to the West, and would they take a ship, or could they make it around the bay—
“Here.” Tryss paused, and Tellie looked up to realize they’d come some way from the main village to where several circular enclosures of bound reeds stood among a steamy swamp of warm springs and pools. Tryss opened a gate in one of these and gestured inside. “Afterwards, you may speak with the Ancient,” she said. “I know your curiously is only whetted, and well, ours has not even begun to be answered.”
A blue-green pool waited in the center of the enclosure, and when she dipped her toe in it, the water felt hot, but not scalding to the touch. Tellie glanced around to make sure she was quite hidden, before slipping out of her dress and wading into the water. It was strange to take a bath in the ground, but the sides of the pool had been inset with smooth stones and the cracks were stuffed with moss. She nestled her head in her arms on the downy earth and sighed deeply, willing all the misery of the last few days to pass away.
She did know how long she let herself drift until Tryss called, “Did you get lost in there?”
Forcing her mouth and eyes open, Tellie called back in a slurred voice, “Nooo…”
“If you’re planning on going to sleep, we have a bed that you won’t drown in. How about you come on out? Here, I brought you some clothes.” A pile of clothes sailed over the top of the fence and landed a few feet from Tellie’s nose.
Every muscle in her body protested as she dragged herself out of the pool. After drying off with a towel that had also been thrown over, she dressed in her new clothes. They were the same as the tribe wore, and when she put on the shirt and leggings, she felt like she should have been wearing a good deal more. Only boys wore trousers, after all. The tunic was made of a material she had never seen nor felt. The cloth was smooth and sheer, folding in thousands of little creases. It fell to her knees, and she thought herself decent enough to be seen.
The moon medallion! Where had she put it? She dove for her discarded clothes and riffled through them until her fingers reached in the last pocket and tangled in the strands of a necklace. Sighing in relief, she pulled out the medallion. It shimmered gently under her fingers. She tucked it into the pocket of her new tunic.
Feeling foreign, Tellie stepped hesitantly out.
Tryss was sitting just outside on a log, weaving a br
aid of grass fibers. Her face lit up and she smiled widely when Tellie appeared. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “You’re a proper chema. I can fetch you some normal human clothes if you really want them, but I did want to see you in our attire.”
Tellie could barely keep up with what she was saying, the fog in her head was so thick. “Yes,” she answered, figuring that would be a safe answer.
Together, they left the mist of the jungle streams and returned to the village where torches and fires were already being lit to drive away night’s oncoming shadows and dangers. The old man, the Ancient, sat in front one of these fires.
Tellie headed straight for him. “Errance, how is he?”
“He sleeps,” the Ancient replied, not turning his gaze from the beginning sparks of the fire. “If sleep it may be called.” He sighed under the weight of a thousand troubles. “So long have I denied the rumors of the Darkness behind those grey mountains, but in the face of this vicious cruelty done to your friend and the brand he bears, I can do so no longer. I have been a fool. My tribe can no longer live here.”
“Yes, and you might think of leaving soon, because they’ll be searching for us and might find you!”
“Worry not about us, child,” the old man said, patting her on the cheek. “We may vanish into the trees if so. But of you and your friends, what is to be done? Who is the elf man the Darkness has taken such fascination in?”
Tellie hesitated, looking about the village and at the faces of both the Ancient and Tryss as if to make sure one last time that they weren’t hiding a dark secret. She slid her hand into her tunic’s pocket and wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the moon medallion. “Well…he’s the prince of Aselvia.”
The old man drew in a sharp, jagged gasp. “Ah! Ah, it is so!”
She started, mouth dropping open. “Wait, what? You mean you already guessed?”
“You said…you said your friend has been a captive for seventy years and the tale of the prince’s tragic end was heard that number of years ago. But more than this, his body heals with greater strength and swiftness than even the enduring elves…if he is half celestial, the reason is clear.”
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 14