Fire-Heart: Part Four
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Everyone should have been cheered by the thought of certain help coming. If anything, though, they seemed less positive than before. Some of it had to be hunger, certainly; two days without food had already hollowed their bellies, Lorannon's apples and mouldy bread notwithstanding, and the prospect of another five days was horribly daunting. Humans needed a lot of food, after all.
The main factor affecting the general mood, however, seemed to be the change in Llias and Rian. They had always been the steady ones, calmly brushing off others' anxieties and saying priggish older-brother things to deflect arguments. Now, though, they were quiet and subdued, keeping to themselves and their own thoughts.
Lorannon wondered what it must be like to face not only the Dark Elven terror, but all the evil, evil memories it brought back for them. His village and family had never suffered as theirs had. Not in his lifetime.
What would happen if the Dark Elves ever did come to my village? I'd never know until my tree was burning … 1
"Ló i lóssda," he swore, frustrated by all these circling thoughts. Five days were going to make for five years each if everyone kept this up.
"Huh?" said Gwyll, raising his head where he sat just opposite.
"Nothing."
"Was that Wood Elven? What did you say?" The younger boy sat up, obviously dying for a boredom-foil. "Teach me some."
"That was just fire and flame." Lorannon rolled his eyes at Gwyll's blank face. "Swearing."
"Swearing? Why's fire swearing?" Gwyll laughed. "Teach me something I won't get in trouble for. Tell me 'hello'."
Lorannon cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Oi-ya-oi-ya!"
The echoes bounced around the vault of the roof. Gwyll jumped, then started to crack up at the others' startled expressions.
In the corner, Master Oweyn lifted his head and cast a slow look in their direction, sparing an absent smile before he looked away.
"Oi-ya-oi-ya, Lorannon!" Gwyll whooped.
"Oi-oi-ya, yána marechiso!"
"What's that?"
"Silly human boy."
"Oi! - I mean, oi-ya-oi-ya!"
"Pipe down!" snapped Thelyd from the corner. "If I get a headache, I'm going to pass it right on!"
"Mind you don't dry out your throats, boys," Master Oweyn added, though amusement was still plain sanction in his voice. "You should be thinking about sleeping soon, too."
"Okay," said Gwyll, his voice dropping near a whisper. "Teach me a quiet 'hello'."
"We don't have that kind of hello," Lorannon replied. "It's silly. If you see someone you know near you, why not say their name?"
"You might not know their name."
"Then you say 'nice to meet you'. Sur cávár li naor ya. 'My name is silly human boy'. Su tucin -"
Gwyll kicked him in the knee. "I want to know how to say 'Goldenlocks thinks he's funny, but he's not.'"
Lorannon grinned, preparing to feed him Gwyll has a rock for a head.
Then the other voice spoke.
"Trebeld Irwenhove …"
Silence fell in the chapel. Eyes flew either to the broken chapel windows - the inlet for the icy night-voice - or to Master Trebeld, his head jerked from the cradle of his lap, hollow-faced and afraid.
"You answer."
But the Paladin didn't answer. He didn't even look as though he was breathing.
"You answer, Trebeld Irwenhove. You cold? Soon bring fires, chminathi! You hunger? Soon bring idrinna meats from idrinna village!"
Master Oweyn's teeth were clenched somewhere behind the set of his mouth. Master Trebeld had simply hidden his face again, shaking his head softly as if to dispel a dream.
"Hungering Trebeld Irwenhove, you answer. Lady Alyrrith say you more."
No-one was answering. They must be trying to ignore the vile creature.
But there was no way he was going to just sit and listen to that winter sneer.
"Oi-oi, délach!" Lorannon shouted up at the windows. "You speak Common like a monkey taught you! Can't understand monkey-talk!"
"Imacha je, kuikui?"
"Or snake-talk! Master Trebeld only understands people-talk. Come back when you learn!"
"I learn you voice, chminatha monkey," said the night-voice, and then it was silent.
Everyone in the chapel was as well, for a little while.
"Tell me something, Goldenlocks," Thelyd put in at last. "If Saint Aieren came down to talk to us for a bit, would you try to get the last word in with him, too?"
"I don't understand Bigboots-talk either," said Lorannon - snippily, since he understood Thelyd's tone well enough. "Go to sleep. And don't make snore noises."
"I'm just hoping you recognised how funny it was for you to talk about speaking proper Common." 2
"Boys," Master Oweyn warned. The Paladin's voice was graver now, more serious, but there was an unusual look in his eyes as he glanced at Lorannon.
The chapel hushed. Lorannon cast Master Trebeld a quick glance of his own, hoping to see some hint of the true, assured Paladin before he slept tonight, but this man seemed as sunken and distant as someone deep underwater.
There was little to do but hope that the Dark Elves' threats would remain threats. What could they do about it if they weren't? Nothing. Well, nothing but pray, of course. Lorannon didn't much like the Paladinic prayers - he couldn't understand half of them - but he followed along dutifully when Master Oweyn led a morning recital shortly after dawn, providing his own comprehensible version inside his own head.
Holy Téléan, bright and shining maiden, strike down these miserable Dark vermin as soon as you possibly can. Take care of all the people in Lyffes. Help them hide if they haven't hidden already. Look after Master Athelwych and bring him back quickly. And please smile on my tree and my family.
What were they thinking now?
Had it been long enough for them to worry? Were they worried? Or just angry?
If he died here, all they would see was his poor tree, withering and dying as he did. They would never know how or why. His tree would die without knowing why.
I'm not going to die, thought Lorannon angrily. The other initiates were infectious. Master Trebeld was infectious. The deeper they all sank, the worse he felt.
The water, which had counted for very little when spread to eleven mouths, had gone as of this morning. Everyone had saved a last mouthful to clear their throats when they woke. Lorannon still felt all right for now - thirsty, of course, just not desperate - but by the afternoon, the others' mouths were too dry for them to complain any more.
Not that they did complain much. They were all too lethargic for that, especially the few nursing headaches. None of them wanted to talk at all, in fact. Even Gwyll.
It was all starting to make Lorannon somewhat nervous and upset. Whenever he looked over at the masters, though, nothing seemed to be happening. Master Oweyn had gone over to sit with Master Trebeld by the altar after the morning prayers, but neither man moved more than that.
They were probably speaking with that Paladinic telepathy. There'd be no listening in on this conversation.
Lorannon lay on the floor, his cheek against the stone, studying the sideways vista of the other listless initiates like one of the chapel murals. No-one was moving. They were all strewn around the Elemental pillars and the altar in a dense huddle for warmth. Rian leaned against Elemental Fire's pillar, cheek pressed against the stone and eyes closed; Aobyn lay across his legs. Llias and Thelyd sat back-to-back, their heads sunken forward for rest. Brann and Huwd hugged their knees together side-by-side, sleepless and dull-eyed, with Osfaddyn at their feet and Gwyll at their backs.
If Lorannon looked at the bright, five-colour murals behind the initiates, they all dissolved into the foreground like a painting of the fallen.
He stopped looking at the murals.
He hated being frightened without the protection of being angry. 3
"Master Oweyn," he said.
Master Oweyn lifted his head, formerly resting lightly against the altar. Save your voice, Lorannon.
Thelyd, eyes still closed and head still down, gave a faint snort. Apparently Master Oweyn was speaking for everyone to hear.
Yes, sir, Lorannon thought. Speaking this way reminded him of his soultree, but he squashed the memory flat before it could cause trouble. Shouldn't we get some water soon?
Lorannon just asked when we'll get some water, everyone. - Yes, Lorannon, we'll do that as soon as possible. Early tomorrow morning, I hope. Trebeld and I just need to recover enough strength to do it first. Yesterday was very, very hard.
How will you do it?
We'll hold the Dark Elves while two or three of you lads go to the well. Until then, try to sleep as much as you can and you won't notice the thirst as much.
"I'm not talking about me!" exclaimed Lorannon indignantly. "It's you flopping, groaning humans who need the water! The Elementals must have made you all out of spider-thread and green leaves!" 4
No, Thelyd, Master Oweyn's voice said in a dry tone, I'm not passing that on. - I assure you, Lorannon, we're made of sterner stuff than cobwebs. We'll be all right.
Someone's boot nudged vengefully at Lorannon's knee. Lorannon looked over and saw that Rian had opened one eye, one corner of his mouth quirked to promise revenge.
It was enough to make him feel a little better, for a little while.
The night was bitterly cold again. Everyone huddled even closer when the real draughts began to blow, and closer still when cold voices came in with the cold air. The voices were not speaking to them tonight, but they were sharp and alien and unsettling.
Because they had run out of candles, Master Oweyn drew his sword and rested it in his lap that night, one hand around the hilt. Its light lit up his thin, oval face from beneath, a small and less circular moon. The bright glow somehow made it easier, not harder, to sleep; it gave off no warmth, but Lorannon felt warmer anyway. Even Master Trebeld's deep-lined face seemed to ease as it had not done all day.
In the morning, Lorannon woke from a light doze to a muttering stomach and a dry mouth. One of Gwyll's boots was prodding at his ribcage.
Trying to shift would probably have sent all the initiates toppling like a pile of sticks with one removed from the bottom. Lorannon stayed put, darting impatient glances to the altar and the sleeping masters, until he finally saw Master Trebeld stir and reach up slowly to his face.
Master Trebeld looked around at the initiates for a while, a tired, heavy gaze. Lorannon gave him a bit of a smile as he thought the master's eyes passed over him, but if he saw it, he didn't return it.
Master Oweyn woke on his own some time later. When he rose to sheathe his sword - how no-one had accidentally poked out their eyes in the night was a wonder - he moved without surety, troubled either by a thirst-headache or a light touch of thirst-vertigo.
Wake up, boys, his voice called. Even in the mind-speech there was a hint of his very high speaking pitch, actually. Lorannon hadn't noticed before. It might have made him laugh in another mood. Wake up and stand up. That's the way. We've got to see who can help fetch this water.
The initiates reacted in a rather ghost-story fashion, slowly crawling to their feet and shambling into line like Deadwalkers. Master Oweyn watched how they each stood, sending everyone for a walk down to the chapel doors and back, and then nodded as they reformed before the altar.
"I am one, obviously," said Lorannon. "Who comes with me?"
The most he got in response to that were a few growls from the others, but he felt rather relieved all the same. The weariness in their faces when they weren't glaring at him was almost oppressive to look at.
You are one, Master Oweyn agreed, wry-faced, which says a great deal for our desperate situation, I'm sure.
The other boys smirked at him.
Thelyd and Osfaddyn will go too. Steel yourselves for the Darkness, all of you. I want you three to go as quickly as you possibly can to the storehouse, take all the travelling-skins you can, and fill them at the well. If I tell you to stop and get back to the chapel, or Trebeld does, stop whatever you're doing and just bring back what you have. We can do this in stages if needs be.
- No, Thelyd, I'm sorry. No food. We can't spend time or energy searching the mess. We need water now more than anything else.
"We need a big group of Paladins more than anything else, surely," Lorannon pointed out.
Please save your breath for the water-carrying, warned Master Oweyn. Even your formidable lungs are not inexhaustible, my boy.
My boy. To Lorannon's horror, he felt the prickle of infant tears in the corners of his eyes when Master Oweyn grinned. It was humiliating. Thirst and hunger were doing terrible things to his brain.
Not seeming to notice Lorannon's inordinately happy reaction - thank the Maiden - Master Oweyn turned back to Master Trebeld. Master Trebeld was still sitting beside the altar, actually. Let's get that water, shall we?
For a moment, Master Trebeld didn't reply. Finally his mind-voice came. The Ward again?
We've had that full day's rest now, said Master Oweyn. We can do it.
Oweyn, I … Master Trebeld closed his eyes, a gesture that set the other initiates shooting nervous glances amongst themselves. I can't.
Yes, you can. Stand up and walk around a little. I'm only a little -
No, you don't understand. I can't. I can't step outside again with her there. I can't listen to the … things … she says …
Master Oweyn was silent for a moment - sympathetic, but insistent. Trebeld, you have to. We have to. I'll be right beside you, and the demons be damned.
Master Trebeld bit his lip. Then he nodded and rose, slow but steady, pushing away from the altar. The two Paladins began to walk together towards the chapel doors; Lorannon, Thelyd and Osfaddyn followed along behind.
Suddenly, shockingly, Master Trebeld was down on his knees near the doors, gripping one of the piled-up pews for support, his head sagging forward on his chest. Oweyn, I can't! his voice cried out.
Master Oweyn darted an anxious look back at the horrified boys, and whatever he said he said for no-one but Master Trebeld to hear.
Seven years, Oweyn! Seven years! I've not slept a night without her eyes on me, knowing she'd hunt and hunt …
Scaring the boys? They should be scared! We can't pretend in front of them, Oweyn! They're not children! They've seen for themselves, most of them, what the Dark Elves do. What they do in Astor, in Hollin, in Olwydd, in Braddon -
Enough, Trebeld.
Master Oweyn's voice had become strange when they finally heard it again - stony-clear was the nearest Lorannon's churning mind could make of it - and although his eyes were still sympathetic as he looked at his comrade, they were implacable.
Yes, the boys know what the Dark Elves do. They also know what it is that we do, and in far more places.
Master Trebeld kept his head down, shaking it in gentle despair and shame. I'm so sorry, Oweyn, I'm so, so sorry. But I'd only be your death if the two of us tried to hold up again under her will … her eyes …
The boys need water, said Master Oweyn quietly.
If it were in my power to give it to them, replied Master Trebeld, quieter still, by all the blessed Elementals and the sweet Maiden, I would.
Master Oweyn stood helplessly where he was for a moment, pity and frustration warring in his face. Master Trebeld remained on his knees, trembling, weeping without tears.
It was like watching the sun crumble up into little pieces in the sky.
"Surely it could not kill you to stand barely outside the chapel doors!" flared Lorannon.
Lorannon! Master Oweyn warned, though Lorannon could easily see the anguish in the Paladin's eyes that cried the same thing. 5 It's not as simple as that. To hold a Dark Elven noble against their will, even on blessed ground, is -
"You are Paladins!" Lorannon shouted, ignoring the catch of his dry throat.
"Shut your noisy trap, Goldenlocks!" snapped Thelyd, rounding on him. His voice sounded as coarse and rasping as a file, or corn under a grindstone, but he didn't hold back in the slightest. "What would you know about it? Hadn't so much as met a Dark Elf before all this! But not having a clue never stops you from whining and howling about something, does it?"
On the inside, Lorannon felt cold in his stomach to be railing at kindly Master Trebeld, but that was always, always the way of it - the wild fires flaring first, and the coals cooling later. Yelling at the elders …
"I have a lot to 'whine' about!" he spat. Better to stoke the fire as long as possible. While he shouted, he wasn't cold, wasn't afraid, wasn't choking on the icy, icy regret-coals … "What good are those swords and pretty cloths? My people fight black demons alone every time. Every time!"
"Then go back to them, for love of Aieren!" Thelyd threw back. "How dare you spout this pigshit? You want to show us how to fight demons alone, you go out there and do it!"
"I will go!"
Lorannon slapped his hands together as he shouted, and the sharp sound seemed to cut all other sounds dead out of the air.
I think that's quite enough infantilism from the pair of you, said Master Oweyn coldly as the echoes died.
"If no-one else will go, I will go," repeated Lorannon. Suddenly the fire was gone. "I am light. I am fast. I can hear and see Dark Elves as well as they can hear and see me. I'll bring the water."
I don't want to hear another word about -
"Will Master Trebeld go?"
It was an honest question, not contemptuous. Lorannon looked over at Master Trebeld with desperate hope, willing the Paladin to stand up again and show that quiet, understated mettle that sat like silver stone in all the masters' chests.
They all shone like evening stars in Lorannon's eyes. All three of the masters. One look at them, arriving in Lyffes with Rian on that first day, had lifted his heart with the same quiet wonder he felt to look up at the night sky. They made him feel insignificant and blessed all at once, a shining proof of a great, eerie love he didn't quite understand. They were a reason not to be afraid of the dark.
Trebeld, prompted Master Oweyn quietly as the silence stretched on.
But Master Trebeld's head remained down, plunged into some manner of inner darkness that his spirit seemed simply unable to fight.
"I will go, sir," said Lorannon, his heart sinking again, his voice thick. "There's no-one else. I will go."
"You can't go out there over an argument, Goldenlocks," rasped Thelyd, his expression half-exasperated, half-anxious. "It's not a challenge. It's just words."
"That's not why I want to go, Thelyd."
Thelyd looked him straight in the eye, still clearly frightened over what he thought he'd provoked.
"That's not why," he said again. "I don't listen to anything from your mouth." 6
The initiate didn't even crack a smile. "Master Oweyn …"
Master Oweyn didn't answer immediately. Instead, drawing in a thin, harried breath, he held it and paced a slow line where the aisle had once been, his jaw muscles shifting as he ground his teeth.
"No-one else can go," Lorannon called after him. "They are not as fast as I am. They can't see or hear as well. You can't go, because the Dark Elves can sense you, and you have already said you can't hold them on blessed ground alone."
"We can stick it out for a while longer," countered Rian, suddenly speaking up. "Maybe Master Athelwych will get back sooner than we're expecting."
"While we wait, we become weaker," Lorannon retorted. "Maybe Master Athelwych will take longer. If we wait, maybe no-one will be strong enough to fetch water at all."
You're no Paladin, Lorannon, declared Master Oweyn tightly, now even further down the aisle. You're a brave boy, I suppose, but you're no match for Dark Elves.
"I don't want to match them, sir," Lorannon pointed out with a snort. "I want to stay very, very far out of their way."
Master Oweyn stopped pacing. Then he turned with a faint, but honest, grin.
One last time he looked vainly to Master Trebeld - the Paladin had begun to whisper a grieving, shamed prayer, his forehead pressed against his knees. Then he looked back to Lorannon.
Listen to me carefully. Very carefully, Lorannon, or I won't even consider it.
"Yes, sir."
And stop talking. You'll need all your breath and to spare if you go outside.
Yes, sir.
The first thing I want from you is a promise that the moment I call for you to come back, you'll come back. From what I can feel of the Darkness outside, Maiya Alyrrith is down at the further gates across from the chapel. If she moves too close to the chapel, you may not be able to get back inside. Her presence is crippling. Do you promise me?
I promise, sir.
Go to the storehouse and fetch as many travelling-skins as you feel you can carry without burdening yourself. Don't worry about not carrying enough for everyone. A few short, safe trips are better than one that fails.
That is obvious, sir.
And don't go to the well. The Dark Elves will hear you turn the crank. Go down to the back paddock - where you normally see our mounts grazing - and fill the skins from the watering-trough.
Lorannon tried to contain his impatience, knowing how anxious the Paladin must be. It really was a bit much, though, telling an Elf what an Elf would be likely to hear. I understand, sir.
I'll send my thoughts to you and listen to yours while you're out there. Tell me each time you move somewhere new, and listen to me very carefully when I tell you I can feel Darkness moving.
He nodded, but Master Oweyn still looked very nervous.
I'll need to cut these silly… these robes quite a bit shorter, sir, Lorannon said. And perhaps wrap a strip around my head to hide my hair. It's very shiny.
Master Oweyn laughed, finally, even if it was a short, hoarse sound. It is, at that. So's my sword. I'll cut the cloth for you.
A few well-wishing hands patted him on the shoulders or the back as he stood and waited for Master Oweyn's tailoring efforts to be finished, feeling rather proud and brave ...
Neeeext
What would happen if the Dark Elves ever did come to my village? I'd never know until my tree was burning …
A very painful death for both of us. My life is bound to my soultree. This, you see, is why Wood Elves get so very, very touchy about humans lighting fires in the Great Woods. [back]
"I'm just hoping you recognised how funny it was for you to talk about speaking proper Common."
I was better than the délach! [back]
He hated being frightened without the protection of being angry.
Still do. Amazing how much fear you can squash when you're angry. Chances are that if I'm yelling at something or someone, I'm scared.
Of course, I'm also a short-tempered git, so I could just be blowing my top in general. [back]
"It's you flopping, groaning humans who need the water! The Elementals must have made you all out of spider-thread and green leaves!"
My choice of terminology aside, Elves are much tougher than humans in this regard. We don't start to really suffer from the serious effects of thirst for five or six days, and we can survive almost two weeks without it. [back]
Lorannon! Master Oweyn warned
He shouldn't have snapped at me, he should've broken my bloody neck! I'd go back and do it for him if it weren't for all the temporal logistics. This is the problem with a lot of Paladins - they confuse standard discipline with 'being nasty'. [back]
"I don't listen to anything from your mouth."
Or anyone's. Little arse. [back]
Everyone should have been cheered by the thought of certain help coming. If anything, though, they seemed less positive than before. Some of it had to be hunger, certainly; two days without food had already hollowed their bellies, Lorannon's apples and mouldy bread notwithstanding, and the prospect of another five days was horribly daunting. Humans needed a lot of food, after all.
The main factor affecting the general mood, however, seemed to be the change in Llias and Rian. They had always been the steady ones, calmly brushing off others' anxieties and saying priggish older-brother things to deflect arguments. Now, though, they were quiet and subdued, keeping to themselves and their own thoughts.
Lorannon wondered what it must be like to face not only the Dark Elven terror, but all the evil, evil memories it brought back for them. His village and family had never suffered as theirs had. Not in his lifetime.
What would happen if the Dark Elves ever did come to my village? I'd never know until my tree was burning … 1
"Ló i lóssda," he swore, frustrated by all these circling thoughts. Five days were going to make for five years each if everyone kept this up.
"Huh?" said Gwyll, raising his head where he sat just opposite.
"Nothing."
"Was that Wood Elven? What did you say?" The younger boy sat up, obviously dying for a boredom-foil. "Teach me some."
"That was just fire and flame." Lorannon rolled his eyes at Gwyll's blank face. "Swearing."
"Swearing? Why's fire swearing?" Gwyll laughed. "Teach me something I won't get in trouble for. Tell me 'hello'."
Lorannon cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Oi-ya-oi-ya!"
The echoes bounced around the vault of the roof. Gwyll jumped, then started to crack up at the others' startled expressions.
In the corner, Master Oweyn lifted his head and cast a slow look in their direction, sparing an absent smile before he looked away.
"Oi-ya-oi-ya, Lorannon!" Gwyll whooped.
"Oi-oi-ya, yána marechiso!"
"What's that?"
"Silly human boy."
"Oi! - I mean, oi-ya-oi-ya!"
"Pipe down!" snapped Thelyd from the corner. "If I get a headache, I'm going to pass it right on!"
"Mind you don't dry out your throats, boys," Master Oweyn added, though amusement was still plain sanction in his voice. "You should be thinking about sleeping soon, too."
"Okay," said Gwyll, his voice dropping near a whisper. "Teach me a quiet 'hello'."
"We don't have that kind of hello," Lorannon replied. "It's silly. If you see someone you know near you, why not say their name?"
"You might not know their name."
"Then you say 'nice to meet you'. Sur cávár li naor ya. 'My name is silly human boy'. Su tucin -"
Gwyll kicked him in the knee. "I want to know how to say 'Goldenlocks thinks he's funny, but he's not.'"
Lorannon grinned, preparing to feed him Gwyll has a rock for a head.
Then the other voice spoke.
"Trebeld Irwenhove …"
Silence fell in the chapel. Eyes flew either to the broken chapel windows - the inlet for the icy night-voice - or to Master Trebeld, his head jerked from the cradle of his lap, hollow-faced and afraid.
"You answer."
But the Paladin didn't answer. He didn't even look as though he was breathing.
"You answer, Trebeld Irwenhove. You cold? Soon bring fires, chminathi! You hunger? Soon bring idrinna meats from idrinna village!"
Master Oweyn's teeth were clenched somewhere behind the set of his mouth. Master Trebeld had simply hidden his face again, shaking his head softly as if to dispel a dream.
"Hungering Trebeld Irwenhove, you answer. Lady Alyrrith say you more."
No-one was answering. They must be trying to ignore the vile creature.
But there was no way he was going to just sit and listen to that winter sneer.
"Oi-oi, délach!" Lorannon shouted up at the windows. "You speak Common like a monkey taught you! Can't understand monkey-talk!"
"Imacha je, kuikui?"
"Or snake-talk! Master Trebeld only understands people-talk. Come back when you learn!"
"I learn you voice, chminatha monkey," said the night-voice, and then it was silent.
Everyone in the chapel was as well, for a little while.
"Tell me something, Goldenlocks," Thelyd put in at last. "If Saint Aieren came down to talk to us for a bit, would you try to get the last word in with him, too?"
"I don't understand Bigboots-talk either," said Lorannon - snippily, since he understood Thelyd's tone well enough. "Go to sleep. And don't make snore noises."
"I'm just hoping you recognised how funny it was for you to talk about speaking proper Common." 2
"Boys," Master Oweyn warned. The Paladin's voice was graver now, more serious, but there was an unusual look in his eyes as he glanced at Lorannon.
The chapel hushed. Lorannon cast Master Trebeld a quick glance of his own, hoping to see some hint of the true, assured Paladin before he slept tonight, but this man seemed as sunken and distant as someone deep underwater.
There was little to do but hope that the Dark Elves' threats would remain threats. What could they do about it if they weren't? Nothing. Well, nothing but pray, of course. Lorannon didn't much like the Paladinic prayers - he couldn't understand half of them - but he followed along dutifully when Master Oweyn led a morning recital shortly after dawn, providing his own comprehensible version inside his own head.
Holy Téléan, bright and shining maiden, strike down these miserable Dark vermin as soon as you possibly can. Take care of all the people in Lyffes. Help them hide if they haven't hidden already. Look after Master Athelwych and bring him back quickly. And please smile on my tree and my family.
What were they thinking now?
Had it been long enough for them to worry? Were they worried? Or just angry?
If he died here, all they would see was his poor tree, withering and dying as he did. They would never know how or why. His tree would die without knowing why.
I'm not going to die, thought Lorannon angrily. The other initiates were infectious. Master Trebeld was infectious. The deeper they all sank, the worse he felt.
The water, which had counted for very little when spread to eleven mouths, had gone as of this morning. Everyone had saved a last mouthful to clear their throats when they woke. Lorannon still felt all right for now - thirsty, of course, just not desperate - but by the afternoon, the others' mouths were too dry for them to complain any more.
Not that they did complain much. They were all too lethargic for that, especially the few nursing headaches. None of them wanted to talk at all, in fact. Even Gwyll.
It was all starting to make Lorannon somewhat nervous and upset. Whenever he looked over at the masters, though, nothing seemed to be happening. Master Oweyn had gone over to sit with Master Trebeld by the altar after the morning prayers, but neither man moved more than that.
They were probably speaking with that Paladinic telepathy. There'd be no listening in on this conversation.
Lorannon lay on the floor, his cheek against the stone, studying the sideways vista of the other listless initiates like one of the chapel murals. No-one was moving. They were all strewn around the Elemental pillars and the altar in a dense huddle for warmth. Rian leaned against Elemental Fire's pillar, cheek pressed against the stone and eyes closed; Aobyn lay across his legs. Llias and Thelyd sat back-to-back, their heads sunken forward for rest. Brann and Huwd hugged their knees together side-by-side, sleepless and dull-eyed, with Osfaddyn at their feet and Gwyll at their backs.
If Lorannon looked at the bright, five-colour murals behind the initiates, they all dissolved into the foreground like a painting of the fallen.
He stopped looking at the murals.
He hated being frightened without the protection of being angry. 3
"Master Oweyn," he said.
Master Oweyn lifted his head, formerly resting lightly against the altar. Save your voice, Lorannon.
Thelyd, eyes still closed and head still down, gave a faint snort. Apparently Master Oweyn was speaking for everyone to hear.
Yes, sir, Lorannon thought. Speaking this way reminded him of his soultree, but he squashed the memory flat before it could cause trouble. Shouldn't we get some water soon?
Lorannon just asked when we'll get some water, everyone. - Yes, Lorannon, we'll do that as soon as possible. Early tomorrow morning, I hope. Trebeld and I just need to recover enough strength to do it first. Yesterday was very, very hard.
How will you do it?
We'll hold the Dark Elves while two or three of you lads go to the well. Until then, try to sleep as much as you can and you won't notice the thirst as much.
"I'm not talking about me!" exclaimed Lorannon indignantly. "It's you flopping, groaning humans who need the water! The Elementals must have made you all out of spider-thread and green leaves!" 4
No, Thelyd, Master Oweyn's voice said in a dry tone, I'm not passing that on. - I assure you, Lorannon, we're made of sterner stuff than cobwebs. We'll be all right.
Someone's boot nudged vengefully at Lorannon's knee. Lorannon looked over and saw that Rian had opened one eye, one corner of his mouth quirked to promise revenge.
It was enough to make him feel a little better, for a little while.
The night was bitterly cold again. Everyone huddled even closer when the real draughts began to blow, and closer still when cold voices came in with the cold air. The voices were not speaking to them tonight, but they were sharp and alien and unsettling.
Because they had run out of candles, Master Oweyn drew his sword and rested it in his lap that night, one hand around the hilt. Its light lit up his thin, oval face from beneath, a small and less circular moon. The bright glow somehow made it easier, not harder, to sleep; it gave off no warmth, but Lorannon felt warmer anyway. Even Master Trebeld's deep-lined face seemed to ease as it had not done all day.
In the morning, Lorannon woke from a light doze to a muttering stomach and a dry mouth. One of Gwyll's boots was prodding at his ribcage.
Trying to shift would probably have sent all the initiates toppling like a pile of sticks with one removed from the bottom. Lorannon stayed put, darting impatient glances to the altar and the sleeping masters, until he finally saw Master Trebeld stir and reach up slowly to his face.
Master Trebeld looked around at the initiates for a while, a tired, heavy gaze. Lorannon gave him a bit of a smile as he thought the master's eyes passed over him, but if he saw it, he didn't return it.
Master Oweyn woke on his own some time later. When he rose to sheathe his sword - how no-one had accidentally poked out their eyes in the night was a wonder - he moved without surety, troubled either by a thirst-headache or a light touch of thirst-vertigo.
Wake up, boys, his voice called. Even in the mind-speech there was a hint of his very high speaking pitch, actually. Lorannon hadn't noticed before. It might have made him laugh in another mood. Wake up and stand up. That's the way. We've got to see who can help fetch this water.
The initiates reacted in a rather ghost-story fashion, slowly crawling to their feet and shambling into line like Deadwalkers. Master Oweyn watched how they each stood, sending everyone for a walk down to the chapel doors and back, and then nodded as they reformed before the altar.
"I am one, obviously," said Lorannon. "Who comes with me?"
The most he got in response to that were a few growls from the others, but he felt rather relieved all the same. The weariness in their faces when they weren't glaring at him was almost oppressive to look at.
You are one, Master Oweyn agreed, wry-faced, which says a great deal for our desperate situation, I'm sure.
The other boys smirked at him.
Thelyd and Osfaddyn will go too. Steel yourselves for the Darkness, all of you. I want you three to go as quickly as you possibly can to the storehouse, take all the travelling-skins you can, and fill them at the well. If I tell you to stop and get back to the chapel, or Trebeld does, stop whatever you're doing and just bring back what you have. We can do this in stages if needs be.
- No, Thelyd, I'm sorry. No food. We can't spend time or energy searching the mess. We need water now more than anything else.
"We need a big group of Paladins more than anything else, surely," Lorannon pointed out.
Please save your breath for the water-carrying, warned Master Oweyn. Even your formidable lungs are not inexhaustible, my boy.
My boy. To Lorannon's horror, he felt the prickle of infant tears in the corners of his eyes when Master Oweyn grinned. It was humiliating. Thirst and hunger were doing terrible things to his brain.
Not seeming to notice Lorannon's inordinately happy reaction - thank the Maiden - Master Oweyn turned back to Master Trebeld. Master Trebeld was still sitting beside the altar, actually. Let's get that water, shall we?
For a moment, Master Trebeld didn't reply. Finally his mind-voice came. The Ward again?
We've had that full day's rest now, said Master Oweyn. We can do it.
Oweyn, I … Master Trebeld closed his eyes, a gesture that set the other initiates shooting nervous glances amongst themselves. I can't.
Yes, you can. Stand up and walk around a little. I'm only a little -
No, you don't understand. I can't. I can't step outside again with her there. I can't listen to the … things … she says …
Master Oweyn was silent for a moment - sympathetic, but insistent. Trebeld, you have to. We have to. I'll be right beside you, and the demons be damned.
Master Trebeld bit his lip. Then he nodded and rose, slow but steady, pushing away from the altar. The two Paladins began to walk together towards the chapel doors; Lorannon, Thelyd and Osfaddyn followed along behind.
Suddenly, shockingly, Master Trebeld was down on his knees near the doors, gripping one of the piled-up pews for support, his head sagging forward on his chest. Oweyn, I can't! his voice cried out.
Master Oweyn darted an anxious look back at the horrified boys, and whatever he said he said for no-one but Master Trebeld to hear.
Seven years, Oweyn! Seven years! I've not slept a night without her eyes on me, knowing she'd hunt and hunt …
Scaring the boys? They should be scared! We can't pretend in front of them, Oweyn! They're not children! They've seen for themselves, most of them, what the Dark Elves do. What they do in Astor, in Hollin, in Olwydd, in Braddon -
Enough, Trebeld.
Master Oweyn's voice had become strange when they finally heard it again - stony-clear was the nearest Lorannon's churning mind could make of it - and although his eyes were still sympathetic as he looked at his comrade, they were implacable.
Yes, the boys know what the Dark Elves do. They also know what it is that we do, and in far more places.
Master Trebeld kept his head down, shaking it in gentle despair and shame. I'm so sorry, Oweyn, I'm so, so sorry. But I'd only be your death if the two of us tried to hold up again under her will … her eyes …
The boys need water, said Master Oweyn quietly.
If it were in my power to give it to them, replied Master Trebeld, quieter still, by all the blessed Elementals and the sweet Maiden, I would.
Master Oweyn stood helplessly where he was for a moment, pity and frustration warring in his face. Master Trebeld remained on his knees, trembling, weeping without tears.
It was like watching the sun crumble up into little pieces in the sky.
"Surely it could not kill you to stand barely outside the chapel doors!" flared Lorannon.
Lorannon! Master Oweyn warned, though Lorannon could easily see the anguish in the Paladin's eyes that cried the same thing. 5 It's not as simple as that. To hold a Dark Elven noble against their will, even on blessed ground, is -
"You are Paladins!" Lorannon shouted, ignoring the catch of his dry throat.
"Shut your noisy trap, Goldenlocks!" snapped Thelyd, rounding on him. His voice sounded as coarse and rasping as a file, or corn under a grindstone, but he didn't hold back in the slightest. "What would you know about it? Hadn't so much as met a Dark Elf before all this! But not having a clue never stops you from whining and howling about something, does it?"
On the inside, Lorannon felt cold in his stomach to be railing at kindly Master Trebeld, but that was always, always the way of it - the wild fires flaring first, and the coals cooling later. Yelling at the elders …
"I have a lot to 'whine' about!" he spat. Better to stoke the fire as long as possible. While he shouted, he wasn't cold, wasn't afraid, wasn't choking on the icy, icy regret-coals … "What good are those swords and pretty cloths? My people fight black demons alone every time. Every time!"
"Then go back to them, for love of Aieren!" Thelyd threw back. "How dare you spout this pigshit? You want to show us how to fight demons alone, you go out there and do it!"
"I will go!"
Lorannon slapped his hands together as he shouted, and the sharp sound seemed to cut all other sounds dead out of the air.
I think that's quite enough infantilism from the pair of you, said Master Oweyn coldly as the echoes died.
"If no-one else will go, I will go," repeated Lorannon. Suddenly the fire was gone. "I am light. I am fast. I can hear and see Dark Elves as well as they can hear and see me. I'll bring the water."
I don't want to hear another word about -
"Will Master Trebeld go?"
It was an honest question, not contemptuous. Lorannon looked over at Master Trebeld with desperate hope, willing the Paladin to stand up again and show that quiet, understated mettle that sat like silver stone in all the masters' chests.
They all shone like evening stars in Lorannon's eyes. All three of the masters. One look at them, arriving in Lyffes with Rian on that first day, had lifted his heart with the same quiet wonder he felt to look up at the night sky. They made him feel insignificant and blessed all at once, a shining proof of a great, eerie love he didn't quite understand. They were a reason not to be afraid of the dark.
Trebeld, prompted Master Oweyn quietly as the silence stretched on.
But Master Trebeld's head remained down, plunged into some manner of inner darkness that his spirit seemed simply unable to fight.
"I will go, sir," said Lorannon, his heart sinking again, his voice thick. "There's no-one else. I will go."
"You can't go out there over an argument, Goldenlocks," rasped Thelyd, his expression half-exasperated, half-anxious. "It's not a challenge. It's just words."
"That's not why I want to go, Thelyd."
Thelyd looked him straight in the eye, still clearly frightened over what he thought he'd provoked.
"That's not why," he said again. "I don't listen to anything from your mouth." 6
The initiate didn't even crack a smile. "Master Oweyn …"
Master Oweyn didn't answer immediately. Instead, drawing in a thin, harried breath, he held it and paced a slow line where the aisle had once been, his jaw muscles shifting as he ground his teeth.
"No-one else can go," Lorannon called after him. "They are not as fast as I am. They can't see or hear as well. You can't go, because the Dark Elves can sense you, and you have already said you can't hold them on blessed ground alone."
"We can stick it out for a while longer," countered Rian, suddenly speaking up. "Maybe Master Athelwych will get back sooner than we're expecting."
"While we wait, we become weaker," Lorannon retorted. "Maybe Master Athelwych will take longer. If we wait, maybe no-one will be strong enough to fetch water at all."
You're no Paladin, Lorannon, declared Master Oweyn tightly, now even further down the aisle. You're a brave boy, I suppose, but you're no match for Dark Elves.
"I don't want to match them, sir," Lorannon pointed out with a snort. "I want to stay very, very far out of their way."
Master Oweyn stopped pacing. Then he turned with a faint, but honest, grin.
One last time he looked vainly to Master Trebeld - the Paladin had begun to whisper a grieving, shamed prayer, his forehead pressed against his knees. Then he looked back to Lorannon.
Listen to me carefully. Very carefully, Lorannon, or I won't even consider it.
"Yes, sir."
And stop talking. You'll need all your breath and to spare if you go outside.
Yes, sir.
The first thing I want from you is a promise that the moment I call for you to come back, you'll come back. From what I can feel of the Darkness outside, Maiya Alyrrith is down at the further gates across from the chapel. If she moves too close to the chapel, you may not be able to get back inside. Her presence is crippling. Do you promise me?
I promise, sir.
Go to the storehouse and fetch as many travelling-skins as you feel you can carry without burdening yourself. Don't worry about not carrying enough for everyone. A few short, safe trips are better than one that fails.
That is obvious, sir.
And don't go to the well. The Dark Elves will hear you turn the crank. Go down to the back paddock - where you normally see our mounts grazing - and fill the skins from the watering-trough.
Lorannon tried to contain his impatience, knowing how anxious the Paladin must be. It really was a bit much, though, telling an Elf what an Elf would be likely to hear. I understand, sir.
I'll send my thoughts to you and listen to yours while you're out there. Tell me each time you move somewhere new, and listen to me very carefully when I tell you I can feel Darkness moving.
He nodded, but Master Oweyn still looked very nervous.
I'll need to cut these silly… these robes quite a bit shorter, sir, Lorannon said. And perhaps wrap a strip around my head to hide my hair. It's very shiny.
Master Oweyn laughed, finally, even if it was a short, hoarse sound. It is, at that. So's my sword. I'll cut the cloth for you.
A few well-wishing hands patted him on the shoulders or the back as he stood and waited for Master Oweyn's tailoring efforts to be finished, feeling rather proud and brave ...
Neeeext
What would happen if the Dark Elves ever did come to my village? I'd never know until my tree was burning …
A very painful death for both of us. My life is bound to my soultree. This, you see, is why Wood Elves get so very, very touchy about humans lighting fires in the Great Woods. [back]
"I'm just hoping you recognised how funny it was for you to talk about speaking proper Common."
I was better than the délach! [back]
He hated being frightened without the protection of being angry.
Still do. Amazing how much fear you can squash when you're angry. Chances are that if I'm yelling at something or someone, I'm scared.
Of course, I'm also a short-tempered git, so I could just be blowing my top in general. [back]
"It's you flopping, groaning humans who need the water! The Elementals must have made you all out of spider-thread and green leaves!"
My choice of terminology aside, Elves are much tougher than humans in this regard. We don't start to really suffer from the serious effects of thirst for five or six days, and we can survive almost two weeks without it. [back]
Lorannon! Master Oweyn warned
He shouldn't have snapped at me, he should've broken my bloody neck! I'd go back and do it for him if it weren't for all the temporal logistics. This is the problem with a lot of Paladins - they confuse standard discipline with 'being nasty'. [back]
"I don't listen to anything from your mouth."
Or anyone's. Little arse. [back]