The days crawled by, and with them
the invasive cold of winter crept slowly over the lands like a freezing
claw. Grimhabim was alit with fires in
every corridor, and the bear fur that was the fashion of the city now became a
necessity rather than an adornment.
Elu’s swordsmanship classes with Herand were initially unwelcome for the
mornings were dark and the air was thick with icy moistness. However, the dream of that night seemed to
have unlocked something in Elu, and she suddenly understood what it was she had
been doing wrong. Talent with the sword
came not from copying all that Herand had to teach her; rather it came from
relying on one’s own instincts and intuition, not just bare skill. It had little to do with perfecting drills
and disciplines, although these acted as important supports and props. If one did not understand one’s sword, if
one did not feel in tune with one’s blade, if one did not focus on one’s own
body, any amount of tutelage would be little use. Once Elu had this concept firmly scored into her brain, her
progress was rapid. It was still
difficult; it was still an arduous process.
But Herand was surprised and pleased at her progress, and became more
receptive to her, sending her praise and criticism in equal volume. He was not so sullen as he once had been,
and Elu sensed that he even began to enjoy their mornings sparring
together. There was a spark in his eyes
and a delighted smile on his pale face whenever they fought. There was no doubt that he thoroughly
relished the use of the sword. But
whenever they parted and whenever her lessons were over, the fire would die in
his eyes, and he would seem more morose than usual.
“Soon I believe you will be ready to
begin your journey east,” Herand informed her one morning after they had spent
an hour or two sparring. It had been
good work; the air was brisk and cold, but their cheeks were reddened in the
sharp wind, and their breath was blissfully hot as they laughed. “You have
improved much since first we met.” He coloured darker, if that could have been
possible on his already reddened pale cheeks. “I owe you an apology, Miss.
Elu. I did not think that you were
worth the time or effort to teach the ways of the blade. But you have proved to be a very apt
pupil. You are by no means perfect yet
– but with time I think you could be a very skilled warrior.”
“I’ve never had much interest in
being a warrior,” Elu grinned as she sheathed her sword. “But your apology is
accepted.” She paused and frowned to herself. “I was awful, wasn’t I?”
He laughed. “Fairly, yes. But there has been marked progress. It is almost surprising that you should have picked it up so quickly,” he mused, half to himself. Elu offered no explanation, but busied herself with brushing the water drops from her cloak. It was drizzling now, and they were quickly walking back to the cover and warmth of the stronghold.
“It shall be snowing soon,” Herand
remarked, looking up at the sky glumly.
His cheeks were pale as he said the words. Elu was slightly taken aback at his suddenly sad gaze.
“Are you all right, Lord Herand?”
she asked with concern.
“Oh, as all right as I can be, I
suppose.” He looked back at her and smiled wanly. “I have not been myself
lately. It seems that everything I do,
I only feel unhappiness. I wish I knew
what to do about it. But what am I
saying,” he sighed, “there’s nothing you could do about it.”
Elu remained silent, a little
surprised that he had been so open with his feelings towards her. After a minute or so of careful thought, she
opened her mouth.
“Forgive me if I offend you, Lord
Herand,” she began a little uncomfortably, not quite sure how she was going to
phrase what she wanted to say next, “But does your despondency have anything to
do with the Lady Lairin, perchance?”
He looked at her sharply. “What do
you mean?”
“Forgive me,” she said quickly,
thinking she had truly insulted him, “It is nothing. I should not have said anything.”
There was an awkward silence; then
he spoke with a tone of resignation. “You are right – it is Lairin.” He looked at her curiously. “You are very perceptive.”
“So some people tell me,” she smiled faintly.
“I only wish to make her look upon
me with favour,” he spoke of his own free will, and his voice was almost
earnest. “At least she would tolerate me.
But she is as obstinate as a mule.
She has resigned herself to hate me, and I cannot seem to make her
change her mind of me.” He sighed. They
had passed the kitchens where Elu often crept in to gather some warm pastries
for her lunch. She paused outside,
looking longingly inside, smelling the deliciously comforting scent of freshly
baked bread. She decided reluctantly to
pass it by.
“Perhaps if you spoke to her of
these things…” she suggested, but Herand shook his head.
“How many times I have tried to do
so! But always she rejects anything I
have to say before I even say it.” He exhaled heavily. “Elu, we are to be
husband and wife soon, and it will do no good for us to be as enemies. At first I felt as she did – I resented the
idea of having to marry a woman who was not of my own choice. But,” and he smiled almost with tenderness,
“I have begun to see her in other lights.
She is so intelligent and opinionated, so brave and forthright. I think that maybe, once we were married, I
would be able to love her given time.”
“I am glad you have seen it,” Elu
said approvingly. She stopped and
turned to him. “Do not be defeated, Lord Herand. She is but a child, and thinks still with a child’s mind. She does not view this marriage with a
woman’s eyes. She still has dreams of
greatness, of romance and adventure.
Such a marriage, such a man that she wishes for are rare and hard to
come by, yet she does not see it.”
“Then how should I make her see as I
do?” he asked her almost desperately.
She felt momentarily sorry for him.
“Show her that you can be the man
she wishes for,” Elu replied simply, “But do not treat her as a child. Treat her as the woman she longs to be, and
she will see you as a man. It may take
time for her to see the advantages of such a situation, but she will soon come
to value the respect and deference that you show her. Once she realises that she is a woman, she will see too that
dreams are never realised on a whim – they must be worked for too.”
He mulled on her words, a hand
stroking his chin thoughtfully; then his face broke into a smile. “Yes, of
course: every time she treated me as a child I retaliated by treating her as
one. How foolish I must have seemed to
her. From now on I shall treat her as
the Lady that she is.” He looked up at Elu curiously. “I never thought to hear
such advice from you.”
“I have loved a man before,” she
spoke quietly, her heart suddenly in her mouth. She suddenly wished that she could go back to her room. Herand seemed to recognise the suddenly
despondent look on her face. He placed
a hand on her shoulder.
“There will be another,” he assured
her gently.
“I want no other,” Elu retorted
almost angrily. “If Mirulas is truly dead then I will stay true to his
memory. But if he is alive…well, then I
shall seek him out, when all this is over.
I shall find him again.” Somehow just thinking about him sent the tears
welling into her eyes. She drew herself
away from Herand’s touch quickly.
“Excuse me,” she muttered and turned
to rush back to her room. Even before
she had rounded the next corridor the drops were sliding fast down her cheeks.
It was another week before Herand
finally declared Elu ready to finish her sword’s training. Elu had spent most of her time gathering
supplies in readiness for her journey.
The stronghold’s cook had generously offered her anything from her
stores that Elu might need. Elu was
glad to take up the suggestion. But
food was not the most important of her troubles. There was clothing warm enough for the trying winter months,
medicines and herbs for their restorative effects, flints and tools, and of
course, the all important weaponry.
Looking at the hefty pack this created made Elu wonder if she was ever
going to able to carry it all round.
On the evening before her departure,
Lord Brinda summoned her to his secret quarters. Elu arrived feeling nervous, seriously considering whether she
should ask if she was able to change her mind.
She knew she would not be able to.
Grinda had left and he was counting on her to meet him at Zikthra
Z’asalki. There was no way of informing
him of a change in plans now.
Brinda was looking tired as he rose
to greet Elu. Elu knew that he had been
busy the past few weeks – he had rarely come to oversee her training with
Herand. Lairin was sitting beside him,
and Herand was standing behind her. Elu
was interested to see how they acted together now. There was a calm, demure look on Lairin’s face, and Herand seemed
less forlorn than he had before. She
had noted that although the two had not exactly been getting on like the
proverbial house on fire, they had at least been acting civilly towards one
another, and had made an effort at being friends.
“Ah, Elu,” Brinda held out a chair
for her. “Please, sit.”
She did so, thinking rabidly for any
excuse she could find to put this off.
None came. Brinda sat down
opposite her, rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair, linked his
fingers together and smiled at her. “I have heard from Herand that you have completed
your training in the use of the sword.
He has even remarked that you have a certain talent in it. I am glad to hear it is so. I fear that you will be in need of all the
skill that you can muster.”
Elu swallowed. This was not the sort of thing she wanted to
hear. “What do you mean?” she asked nervously.
“As you may have noticed, I haven’t
been about the stronghold much recently,” Brinda explained with a sigh. “This
is because I have been investigating thoroughly this business of the tûrkals waging
war. Even while you have been here
there have been tûrkal spies working in our midst. One man we were able to extract some information from. Before he died he told us that the Aksees
were indeed in league with the tûrkals.” There was an expression of remorse on
his face as he said it, as if the memory of the interview with the tûrkal spy
had taken something out of him. After a
moment he lifted his head, and began again. “They are taking slaves from
amongst the villagers in Éadan to trade them with the tûrkals. Only the strongest of the strong are
captured. They will work in the forges
and mines of Dûrval. That is all the
information we managed to glean.”
“Forges? Mines?” Elu repeated blankly.
“Metal works,” Herand explained
shortly. “It means they are making weapons and armour. It means that war is inevitable,” he added
darkly.
“It also means,” Brinda cut in
quietly, “that your man, Mirulas, could still be alive.”
Elu looked up at him sharply, her
heart leaping within her. He smiled
sadly at her.
“I am sorry, my dear. I do not mean to give you false
expectations. He may have been
killed. But there is the possibility he
may not have been. You say he was
strong. Perhaps they thought him well
enough to work in the mines of Dûrval.”
Elu listened, her ears and cheeks
burning. She imagined Mirulas, her
love, toiling under the brutal labour of tûrkal slave masters, cruel welts upon
his back where whips had lashed him, freezing in the dead ice of the Dûrval
snow plains. Rage and hatred streaked
through her like a physical thing. She
even shuddered with it. If Mirulas were
alive she would not let him suffer such tortures. She would find a way to rescue him. She did not know how she would do it, or even if it was
possible. But she would do it. Somehow.
There must be a way. Brinda
looked at her dark expression, a deep sorrow upon his face, as though he knew
what emotion coursed through her.
Lairin looked startled. Herand
looked troubled, but remained silent.
“You see, it is imperative Elu, that
Grinda’s mission be completed,” Brinda continued softly. “I will not lie to
you. It is a perilous situation we
face, all of us, and I am probably going to be throwing you into the middle of
the fray. But I must. Not because I want to, but because…”
“Because you wish me to
fulfill a prophecy for you,” Elu cut in swiftly, almost angry. “I have seen it.
You do not wish me simply to send word to the King of Rofaçilin, do you? You want me to save the world. Do you believe that I am who Grinda says I
am? And do you truly believe that such
a prophecy speaks the truth, and that you would send an innocent girl into such
danger? Can the Lord of Grimhabim be so
gullible?”
Brinda looked taken aback, but he
said nothing. Elu took the opportunity
to continue.
“I have thought much on the
so-called prophecy of late,” she said slowly, “And I have come to believe there
is some measure of truth in it. At
first I did not think it made sense.
But there are…things that have caused to believe otherwise. However, I do not believe I am the person
you seek to fulfill this prophecy. I am
different from other people, but I am not a shapeshifter. Nevertheless, I believe that there are real
shapeshifters in this world, and I am willing to find them for you. Perhaps they will fulfill your prophecy – I
do not know. It is up to them.” She
paused and looked round the room.
Brinda was silent, waiting for her to continue. “I will do this thing
for you, but only for Mirulas. I wish
to be with him again. I shall not be
toyed with. I will do this of my own
free will, and any way that it suits me.
Do you understand?”
Brinda seemed to think a moment,
then nodded slowly.
“If that is the way you would have
it, then so be it. My beliefs shall not
interfere. But I am relieved as much as
I am pleased that you have not changed your mind.” He turned to his daughter.
“Lairin, the map.”
Lairin rose quietly and brought a
scroll from a nearby niche in the wall.
She handed it to her father, and he in turn handed it to Elu.
“Take this. It will aid you on your journey. Keep it well. If ever you reach the wilds of Dûrval, you will need it.”
Elu took it and thanked him. The determination had not left her, but she
could not keep her heart from failing her even as thought on the task she had
vowed she would complete. What was she
thinking, she wondered? She was no
warrior, no magician. She had no powers
with which to infiltrate the lands of the tûrkals. But there was Mirulas. If
he was in the mines of Dûrval, then she must go there. And if he were not, then it would not matter
– there would be nothing left to live for anyway.
“I wish you luck on this journey,
Elu,” Brinda said, offering her his hand.
He smiled faintly when she took it. “Whatever you are, whatever you turn
out to be, remember what the prophecy says.
Keep its words in your heart.
One day, they may be useful.”
She nodded, with a sincerity she had
not thought she would feel. Whatever
Grinda said she was, it would not matter.
She would be travelling into the heart of Dûrval anyway, when all this
was over. To find the man she loved.
There was only a small group to see
her off the next morning. Brinda and
his Lady Laoda were there, Lairin and Herand.
They had provided her with a horse, a young roan named Ralling. She was very grateful to have him. Her travelling time would be cut much
shorter, and the problem of her heavy packs was sorted out. There was also a certain comfort in having
another living creature to face a lonely trail with. She mounted the horse, thinking with sadness of Fally. It was another link to Mirulas that had
passed away.
“I shall miss you,” Lairin spoke,
peering up at Elu through the hood of the fur cape. “I do wish I was coming
with you, if only to keep you company.
If things go wrong, do try to send word to me, won’t you? I will try to help you in any way I can,
even if it is not with a sword.”
“I shall,” Elu smiled, clasping her
hand warmly. There were tears in
Lairin’s eyes and she wiped at them fiercely.
She was almost as surprised as Elu was when Herand placed a comforting
arm round her shoulder.
“Let us not make things more
difficult for Elu,” he spoke to her softly; then he looked up at Elu. “I too,
shall miss you, Elu. Just remember all
that I have taught you, and you shall be well.
And take care of Ralling too – that way Ibran the Hunter shall smile
upon you, and look upon your journey with favour.”
Elu nodded. She had the strong urge to cry all of a
sudden.
“Here,” the Lady Laoda spoke, moving
forwards. In her hands were several
cloaks, all dark and furry. Elu had not
seen much of the proud Lady of Grimhabim during her stay, but had seen enough
of her to know that she was a wise and gracious lady, one who was as fiercely
protective of her people as her daughter was.
She had no doubt that the cloaks the lady proffered her were of her own
hand. “Take these. They shall keep you
warm on your long journey. They are
thickest bear furs from the Rillon Forests.
Keep them as a token of the Lady of Grimhabim.”
Elu took them with heartfelt thanks,
feeling overwhelmed by all the kindness shown her. She turned to Brinda, who was standing quietly nearby. He reached out and clasped her hand firmly.
“Good luck and may Aan speed you
upon your way,” he spoke formally. She
smiled.
“And may Badan smile upon you and
your family, in all that you do,” she answered, almost tearfully. He nodded, gripped her hand for one moment
more, then let go. The release of his
hand was almost something of a signal.
Elu turned and looked ahead grimly.
The path before her led into the heart of the Grimhabim Bluffs and
beyond. Winter lay ahead, cold and
desperate. And then, there was the
unknown. Quietly, Elu steeled
herself. She did not know where her
path led, but where it went, she would surely follow.
“Farewell,” she spoke, to them, to
Grimhabim, to all that was certain. She
dug her heels into Ralling’s strong flanks and he set off at a stately pace,
his breath catching in the chill morning air.
She did not look back, not once. She was afraid that if there ever came a time when she knew she
would not see them again, the memory of that last sight of them would break her
heart. She had lost too much already.
*
The Aksees had never been great in
number. The few primitive clans that
existed were mainly confined to the west of Éadan, where the lands were unkempt
and wild. No mortal lived in those
parts anymore, save for these abominations of the four great races. There were a few clans, however, that had
strayed east, and that now lived in the Ekwart Forest that bordered
Dûrval. Few people dared to enter those
forests, for they were thick and sprawling and many said they were inhabited by
the spirits of the soldiers that had been slain in the War of the
Sundering. Because so many had died in
that great battle, many had been unable to undergo the all-important Rite of
Untying – that ritual which broke the cord the soul still bore with its
physical body, and all the people and places it had ever known. While the cord remained intact the soul
could not pass in peace to the Halls of Sidra, where all souls of the dead
went; thus they believed themselves still living, and walked the world
unbidden, their spirits facing an endless torment, neither knowing, nor
feeling, nor caring.
Because the ghosts of the soldiers that had fought
in the War of the Sundering still believed themselves to be alive, legends told
that they had fled to the forests, believing themselves safe there. There their shades had become entrapped, and
could not leave the world. Even the
tûrkals feared to go into those dark forests.
But to the humans of Éadan, the Ekwart Forests were fearsome enough just
for the fact that the Aksees themselves dwelt there.
Some of these Aksees would wander
onto the highland plains of Grimhabim, seeking out the small villages that lay
there, ranging the high crests of the hills for any unsuspecting traveller that
may come along. Many villagers
complained of friends and family gone missing, stolen by the Aksees to trade
with the tûrkals as slaves. Elu soon
found the stories of such happenings to be true, at least in part. Certainly there were several bands of Aksees
stalking the Grimhabim Bluffs, lying in wait for unwitting wanderers. The few encounters Elu had with them were
enough to prove that they were not daunted by the cold winter months. Though their clothes were rough and often
ragged, the thickness of their leathery skin was enough to prevent most of the
cold from effecting them. It was then
that Elu truly came to value the sword training Herand had given her.
The first band she came across was
only a group of three. They looked
travel-worn and dirty, as though they had been scouting for weeks and had only
met hard times. But with the arrival of
Elu they had believed luck had come their way.
They did not look to see the plain sword that hung at her hip.
With a howling battle cry they
rushed in on her from behind a nearby hill, brandishing nothing more than rusty
daggers. They were obviously not
expecting much fight from a small girl.
Ralling bucked nervously as they advanced, ready to gallop on into some
brush. But Elu reigned him in, wary not
to leave the track for fear of losing it.
If it was a fight they wanted, she was ready to give it to them. She jumped down from her saddle, and
brandished her sword. The approaching
Aksees looked a bit stunned at that but they had come too far to back off
now. Besides, she was only a girl, and they
outnumbered her. Growling fiercely they
clung to their daggers and circled her like vultures around its prey, waiting
for the right moment to strike. Elu
held her stance, sword bared to attack, eyes shooting from foe to foe, watchful
for the first moment that would signal an attack. A feeling she had not expected rose like fire within her. She had been willing to be brave, to face
what dangers she may. She expected to
feel fear; she expected to feel anger.
But not the blind frenzy that took her.
Later, she could hardly remember that first fight on that chill winter
trail. She recalled the first movement,
from a rangy Aksees with shifty eyes to her left. What followed next was a whirlwind of attacks, of blades silently
dancing through the air, of frantic parrying, of sharp, cruel stabbing
motions. The rangy Aksees fell to her
blade first; he had been weaker and hungrier than his companions. She recalled the brittleness of his body as
she drew her blade into his stomach, as though there had been nothing inside
him for her to impale. The others were
heftier, meatier. At the death of their
comrade they rushed at her with renewed venom.
One struck her on the side of her head with the hilt of his dagger. It seemed but the dull blow of a small pebble. She turned on him in a fury, sword already
swinging forward to connect with his bared chest. Blood gushed forth from the wound, and the Aksees screeched in
pain, grasping at thin air. Before the
other one could even think to make his escape, Elu had lunged forward at him,
slicing at his guts. He fell forward
like a toppling tree, clutching at his entrails as though gripping his fleeing
soul. It did not take him long to die.
The second Aksees was still
groaning. Elu remembered clearly
afterward that she went over to him and speared him remorselessly between the
ribs, finishing him off. Somehow, it
had seemed the right thing to do.
She had already mounted an edgy
Ralling and had left the dead group of Aksees far behind when the frenzy that
had taken her slowly died away. Only
then did she notice the raging pain gushing through the right side of her
skull. Slowing Ralling, she lifted her
hand to touch the wound. It was not
bleeding, but she winced at the sharp shot of pain that lanced through her
brain as she lightly prodded it. She
would have to treat it. Dismounting Ralling
brought home to her the gravity of what she had done. It was not killing the Aksees that had frightened her. It was the callous way in which she had done
it. She had felt nothing as she had
killed them. Not even the fierce heat
of anger had caused her to kill them.
Not even the recklessness of revenge had allowed her to do so.
She sighed wearily, putting the
thoughts out of her head with determination.
Instead she tried to calm Ralling, who now regarded her with a mixture
of fear and anxiety. She patted him
softly and stroked his snout, whispering to him with a gentleness that probably
confused him after what he had just witnessed.
“It’s all right, Ralling,” she
encouraged him quietly, not feeling that she spoke the truth at all. She looked about her. There was a small amount of scrub by the
wayside. It was as safe as anywhere
else she could find about. She decided
to rest there for the rest of the day, tend to her wound, have something to
eat. The threat of harsher weather
clambered over a darkening horizon. It
filled her with as much foreboding as her recent kills had.
It took a long time for her to come
to terms with the fact that from that moment on she had begun to turn into
something she didn’t like.
The days were growing shorter. The mornings and afternoons became painfully
dark. It was a perilous journey, yet
the fact that she was nearing Zikthra Z’asalki with every mile she travelled
heartened Elu considerably. Only on the
second day of her trek it had begun to snow.
At first it came on short blasts of cold air, bringing thin wisps of
snow and freezing drizzle that cut Elu to the very bone with its chill, despite
the heaviness of her cloaks. Such
storms were the harshest. She was glad
when the weather calmed, and the snow would fall in fluffy chunks that would
cover the lands about in a sheet of white as soft as cotton wool. But such falls also had their
disadvantages. The trail became harder
and harder to discern, and several times Elu feared that she had lost the
path. Many times she suspected she had,
only to rejoin it several hours later.
Ralling accepted the weather with a calmness that she did not feel. She was amazed at the resilience of the
horse. There were few places for him to
graze now, but he did well on the pack of oats she had brought with her. Just as she was afraid that they would run
out, the lands became more hilly and rougher, and then the dark band of rock
that was the Calliss Plateau came into sight.
The snowfall had gathered into
something akin to a blizzard. A curtain
of icy cold flakes whirled about the lonely girl and her horse, seemingly
impenetrable. Elu had draped a scarf
over her nose and mouth to keep the biting sharpness from pinching her cheeks,
but her eyes were left uncovered, and she had to keep her head lowered in order
to stop the wetness from stinging them.
When she did look up she was almost blinded by the sword-sharp flakes of
snow. It was a strain just to be able
to catch sight of the dark ridge of rock that was the plateau. In a moment she had lost all thought of the
now half-buried trail. Her goal was in
sight now: it was all she needed.
“There, Ralling!” she cried in
exultation, her voice nearly stolen away on the wind. “There is our destination
at last! The Calliss Plateau!”
The horse pressed forward, hearing
something of the elation in his mistress’ voice. It was a long, arduous ride forward, with the wind resisting
their every move, but at last they reached the tall crest of land. It rose up before them like a blockade made
by the gods, such was its height. But
here the wind was less cruel, and the snow fell thinner. It was a more effective than any shelter Elu
had sought out so far. And there was
the mouth of the cave that led to Zikthra Z’asalki, dark, wide dry, comforting
after the days of cold and wet that she had endured. But there was no Grinda in sight.
Elu reigned in Ralling and
dismounted. The mouth of the cave was
empty. Peering inside, all she could
see was darkness. There was no one
there. Neither was there any sign of
anyone ever having been there. There
were no marks of a tent, no foot prints, no remnants of a fire. Elu stood up. So, no one had been there.
No one had been waiting for her.
Grinda had not come, as he had promised. Where was he? On his
way? Or had he simply forgotten?
She shivered. Now that she was no longer moving, the cold
bit into her hands and her face. She
had to think quickly and make a decision.
Obviously Grinda had not arrived yet.
Although he might have been delayed, it was possible that he had arrived
early, had waited for her, and then been forced to move inside the cave for
shelter when the snows had come. Well,
whatever the case, Elu could not wait out here in the storm. It would be better to go inside and rest, at
least for the night. Grinda had
promised that he would be there when she arrived. If he did not arrive by the next morning, then there would be
nothing for it but to go further into the cave and seek out these strange
Asalki creatures. It was something she
didn’t feel too confident about, but she couldn't think of any better
idea. Making these decisions quickly
she went back to take Ralling by the reigns and led him within the mouth of the
cave. She said nothing as she did
so. She was feeling troubled at the
non-appearance of the old storyteller, and a little angry with him for leaving
her alone when he had promised to meet her there. It was dangerous here, and cold.
She had no idea of where she was, or what lay ahead of her. She could not turn back. There was no other choice.
It was warmer inside the mouth of
the cave, not much so, but enough to make a difference. She first set about making a fire, and then
poured the last remnant of her water supply into a kettle to boil. She tethered Ralling to a nearby rock and
shook out the last of his oats to eat.
She hoped that Grinda would make his appearance soon. With the amount of provisions she had left
on her, she was not going to last much longer.
She decided that since she had little water left, she would throw the
last of her vegetables and dry meat into the point and make a stew. Once she had eaten and drunk her fill, she
unrolled her blanket and lay down on it.
As soon as she did so, weariness overtook her. The endless days of travel had worn at her, and her chance
encounters with the bands of Aksees had taxed her energy. Only now she allowed herself to feel
it. The warmth of the fire, the dryness
of the cave was like a blessing.
“Why did I ever agree to do this?”
she wondered, not for the first time.
No answer came, only the echoing of her voice down the length of the
deep, dark cavern. She sighed, thinking
of Mirulas, remembering the warm familiarity of his embrace, the ardent press
of his kisses. She could no longer bear
to think of him as dead, or as a slave of the tûrkals. Let her remember him as she wanted to
now. There was no strength left in her
for revenge.
She hardly knew that she had slept
when she awoke. It was to the sound of
soft footsteps nearby, and the musical tone of light whispers. She shifted, wondering whether she was
dreaming. It was only when she felt the
grasp of prying fingers against her wrists and ankles that she knew she was
not. It took a few further moments for
her to realise that she was under attack.
She struggled, but found that she could not turn over and onto her
back. Her fire had died out and all was
in darkness. Whoever had attacked her
had bound her arms and legs. Somewhere,
Ralling neighed loudly, and from the tone of his cry Elu knew that he was
frightened.
“Ralling!” she cried, then heard the
sound of someone restraining him. “Leave him alone!”
The whispers came again, short,
sharp. Elu did not recognise the
language. It seemed to be comprised of
hard consonants and sibilants, but the way it was spoken made it sound lilting,
almost melodious. Ralling quieted
immediately at the sound of that soft voice.
Then Elu felt herself being hoisted under strong supple arms and carried
away. So, she guessed, these were the
Asalki. She wished Grinda were
here. He would have sorted out this
misunderstanding – if he had deigned to turn up when he had promised he would.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked
fearfully. There was no straight
answer, but a murmuring between her captors told her that they did not
understand what she had said. She
decided to say no more. There was no
point in trying to communicate to those who did not understand her. Best to save her strength instead, for
whatever might face her.
The road her captors took her by was
rough and bumpy, but Elu was held fast with their thin yet strong arms. Elu knew better than to struggle, but her
bound up wrists and ankles felt uncomfortable and were already beginning to
chafe. Every move she made to ease this
was quickly quelled by her captors. It
was obvious they didn’t want anymore fuss from her than they could manage. Elu had no idea of how they could see where
they were going in the complete darkness.
She herself had no idea of which direction they were travelling in, let
alone where they were going. She hoped
that wherever they were going, it was not going to be far away. She didn't think she could bear these
confines for much longer.
At last a spot of light appeared in
the distance, a pale green in hue. Elu
strained her eyes towards it, her eyes smarting at the unfamiliarity of
it. They were travelling down an
incline, a tunnel, deeper into the heart of the rock. She was not sure where the light was coming from, but she was
glad from it. Taking advantage of what
had been given to her, she tried to look up at those who carried her to her
inevitable fate, but she could not move her head sufficiently enough to look
over her shoulder and into their faces.
But she could see their legs, and their feet. They were pale and skinny, like the trunks of withering
trees. Instead of shoes their feet had
simply been bound up in leather, and had been held in place by criss-crossed
strips of cloth, in a style such as the farmers of Éadan wore during the winter
months to keep their legs warm. This
didn’t tell her very much, apart from the fact that they did not seem to be
rich or flighty. They did not seem to
be the nymph-like creatures that Grinda had implied.
Presently the light widened, and Elu
blinked in the sudden brightness. It
took a while for her become accustomed to this change, but as soon as she was
able to look about her she was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. The harsh contact with the floor reawakened
the injury in her head. She cried out
and closed her eyes, trying to still the sharp shot of pain that caroused
through her. As the waves of agony
rippled through her brain she vaguely heard the sounds of voices
conversing. She understood
nothing. It did not seem that they were
speaking to her anyway. She opened her
right eye a crack.
A woman was above her, perusing her
with open suspicion on her face. But
she was not a woman, at least not a human woman. Her skin was so pale as to be called white, and her hair was the
colour of sunlight glinting off fresh snow.
She was lean and slim as a birch, and Elu would have considered her
beautiful but for the colourless pallor of her pupil-less eyes. Elu stared up at her in sudden fear at so
strange a creature as this. She did not
know how she managed to meet the woman’s eyes.
Perhaps it was because she did not know whether the woman’s eyes were
looking into hers at all.
After a moment, the woman seemed
satisfied that she had seen all she wanted to see of Elu. She turned to the four women that had
captured Elu, shot out some orders in harsh, level tones, then turned and
left. Immediately Elu was hoisted up
again, giving her the queasy sense of blood rushing up to press beneath her
eyes. For a few seconds, all she could
see was stars.
Again she was led down into a darker
corridor. She struggled again, but did
not have the strength to make it anything effective. The ropes that held her were too restricting, and her head was throbbing
painfully.
“Where are you taking me?” she
cried. They did not answer, but talking
amongst themselves. There was a jocular
note to their voices, as though they were discussing her and found her
amusing. Elu resigned herself to
whatever fate lay in wait for her. She
could not make them understand her.
What was the point in fighting?
She wondered whether Ralling was safe.
Again the corridor broke out into
some sort of rocky clearing. Now Elu
could discern what was the source of their light. There were rocks in the walls, green rocks, though they were
unlike any rock Elu had ever seen.
Although small they emitted a soft, pale glow from their own iridescent
lustre, a gentle luminescence that was enough just to light an entire
room. It was not overly bright or
invasive. Rather, it was subtle and
calming to the nerves. Elu looked about
in muted amazement. From almost every
nook and cranny, in almost every crevice of the cave walls these tiny gems were
embedded into the rock. Some were
bigger and shinier than others – most seemed to be an ore-like substance,
untouched and in their pure form. Their
beauty was far exceeded by the benefits they provided as light-sources. It was a strange thing. She knew that overland, many would covet
these gleaming stones as precious jewels and gems.
There came a sound as of gates
parting, and the next moment Elu felt herself cast once more onto solid hard
rock. She groaned, wishing she could
hold onto her head and still the searing pain within it. But her hands were still bound fast. She could hardly draw herself up to see what
lay around her. Instead, she heard
rather than saw the gates closing too then, then the sound of leather-bond feet
trundling away and out of earshot. All
was in silence.
Several minutes passed before Elu
found that she had the strength to pull herself up from the painful position on
her side to sit up straight. Wherever
she was, there was a dimness that prevented her from readily seeing what her
surroundings were like; yet soon she became accustomed to the faintness of the
greenish light source, and was able to see the dark rock walls that incased
her. Four walls, one a criss-cross of
stout oaken bars. A prison.
She struggled to think amidst the
pain of her aching head. How was she to
escape? Her pack, her sword, her tools,
all had been left at the mouth of the cave where she had put them down to rest
for the night. And even if she had had
access to them, her hands and her legs were tied so that she couldn’t move
them. She couldn’t even walk over to
the bars to see just how strong they were.
She could slither over, but the thought of such an action was as painful
as it was degrading. She didn't think
she could risk jolting her head anymore than she had already. She didn’t even have anything to ease the
pain with. A wave of despair flooded
over her. What to do now? No escape routes, and no options. She wasn’t even sure where she was.
“Oh, Grinda, why weren’t you there
when you said you would be,” she muttered. “Then I wouldn’t be trapped in this
awful place.”
“Who’s
there!”
Elu jumped at the voice. At first she wasn’t even sure that she had really heard it. It had come to her in a whisper, short, sharp, cutting. It could have been the rush of the wind, the scuttling of some strange creature along the walls. She remained silent for a moment, trying to think whether she had really heard it or not. But the thought of another person being in there with her was too tempting. She remembered Eldeen’s lined but sage face saying very solemnly: ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’ She almost smiled at the memory. It made up her mind.
“Hello?” she whispered back
cautiously.
There was a pause. Then a slight shuffling, from somewhere
nearby. When next the voice spoke there
was no mistaking that there was certainly someone there.
“So you are human.” It was a female voice, rough, husky, and with a hint of
good humour to it. “I thought you might be someone else.” There was a short,
testy sigh, then the voice spoke again. “So, how many did they catch you for?”
it asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Elu asked,
genuinely confused.
“Come, don’t be shy,” the woman
spoke again good-naturedly. “I won’t tell anyone. Come, thief to thief, tell me.
A thief’s word is always his honour, am I right?”
“I’m not a thief,” Elu answered,
just a little bit annoyed as well as perplexed. What on earth was this woman talking about?
“Aren’t you?” She seemed surprised.
“Well, why are you in here then?” She paused and then suddenly laughed. It was the deep rich laugh of a woman who
was sure of herself. “Ah, I see. You
are a poor, lonely traveller on your way to meet relatives in Rofaçilin. You decided to rest in these caves for the
night, but instead of finding comfort all you found were these cold grey
walls.” She laughed again, her voice carrying out and echoing along the walls.
“I don’t understand,” Elu broke in,
a little irked at the woman’s cheer.
Her head was still pounding, and she didn’t appreciate being laughed at
by some stranger.
“Ah,” the woman sighed, “I
sympathise with you, really I do. It’s
not your fault. I suppose it’s the
fault of people like me, really.” She stopped, as though pondering on what she
had said.
“You’re a thief?” Elu asked. Her voice was becoming far away, even to
her. She rested her head against the
rock wall. Anything to ease the pain.
“Yes. Not the best, but a fair one, I’d say. There are few that’d come to these caves in search of the verda stones. Only the most daring of thieves try such a thing.” She certainly
sounded proud of her accomplishments, whatever they were. “I’ve taken and sold
thousands of the tiny little stones, but this time I just happened to be
caught. And here I am. These damned Asalki,” she swore a little too
viciously, “they’re over-protective of the verda
stones. They probably thought you were
going to steal them too. That’s why
they captured you.”
“Oh.” Things were starting to make
sense, albeit in a vague, blurry kind of way.
The thoughts wavered in and out of Elu’s brain like shadows. “The stones
are important to them,” she managed to say.
She wanted to say more, but couldn’t quite remember what.
“Are you all right?” she thought she
heard the woman ask her. For a blissful
moment Elu wanted to laugh and say yes.
It was only when the light began to fade and the darkness to swallow her
up that she realised that she wasn’t.