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The Witchling of Alsira
Chapter 2 - Out of Her Gourd
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The darkness was blissful and serene, filled with a feeling of warmth, of belonging, and of innocence. She could feel herself floating, yet squeezed in-between walls of substance, nestling her frame. There seemed to be no discernible separation between herself and the realm she inhabited.
She could hear a steady beating from below her legs, broken only by a quick sharp increase in that thrum, followed by a muffled sound from outside of her small reality. The sound was like a high-pitched resonation, followed by several deep howls from beyond.
With a great and sudden convulsion, the moisture around her disappeared, the warmth still was present, and the walls of her realm began to dance around her. Her eyes began to flicker, a few moments of darkness, and then suddenly a creeping, blinding light from above her head.
One more great convulsion and some strange tendrils pulling at her, grabbing first at her head and then at her arms. Where were they taking her, and why would they not leave her to stay in her realm of isolation and comfort. Things were changing so suddenly around her, and then it hit her with pain that shot through every nerve of her body. The feeling of being plunged into the icy waters of a great river.
Her body was on fire, her mouth opening in shock, water filling her lungs. Her eyes were open now, into a world aflame with color and light. All around her, the shades of blue ice, clear waters, and the trailing ribbons of blood floating around her head. The blood of life, and the blood of death.
It was blood and pain that greeted her into this new world. It would be only blood and pain that she would know for the rest of her life.
***
Her eyelids opened for a moment as bleary white light broke through and assaulted her mind. She wanted to reach out and shield herself from the brilliance, but her arms did not move. She could feel herself being carried, jostled around as two figures, clad in tattered robes, held her aloft.
“How is she still alive?” One of the figures said the voice was low, young, and male. He was carrying a segment of her lower body and let one of her legs drop to drag on the ground for a few moments.
“Master Leiros said she is a stubborn one.” The second figure, also male, had a higher voice, yet seemed older. This man carried her upper body, two arms under her own, and gave an occasional hard kneeing to her lower back as he adjusted her weight. “Stubborn and ignorant. She drank half the water in the fountain of visions.”
“Yes, that’s why I find it so odd.” The one carrying her feet stopped for a moment to retrieve her errant leg. He gave her body a hard twist and continued to carry her down a rocky incline. “A single sip of those waters is enough to send a staid person to fits of madness. And here she goes, drinks half the damned thing.”
The second figure gave a deep grunt of acknowledgement. He gave one more hard knee to her upper buttocks and shook her as he got a better hold on her arms. The impact seemed to echo throughout her body for some time before it fully resounded as pain to her mind. She could feel her consciousness slipping in and out.
“So, just a few more steps, Hethras. We’re almost there.” The figure on her feet picked up his pace and her leg came loose again. “You holding up, old man?”
“As best as I am able. She sure is a heavy kipper, for being so wiry.” The older man gave a long groan and shook her torso side to side. “Tossed right out of her gourd. Not helping a damn bit.”
“Over here, on the cloth.” There was a third voice, this one male as well, but very familiar. Ghelta could feel warmth flowing from her chest to her mouth. She could feel her body tensing slightly. There was anger in her ready to come out, if only she could focus and move her body.
Both of the other robed figures dropped her onto some cloth below, and they weren’t gentle about it. She could feel her body and then her legs impact. Her head was safe, falling onto some sort of padded up cloth. The two figures stood over her, their entire forms obscured by their robes.
The third form knelt over her, putting an exposed hand on her forehead and another on her chest. “Her fever is still high and her heart is erratic.” She looked up towards the form over her. Those same blue eyes stared at her from beneath those white face covers. She wanted to scream out in rage at him, for abandoning her at the top of the mesa. For his arrogance in telling her she wasn’t wanted or old enough. For being an insufferable prick.
“Wrap her up then, Master Leiros?” The younger figure at her feet gave a shrug.
“Yes, make the bonds tight. We don’t need her coming loose in transit.” He stared at her with those eyes. She couldn’t see the lower section of his face, but by the tone in his voice, she knew he was smiling at her expense. “A shame to climb so far, endure so much, have her mind swim with such visions, and then have her fall out in mid-flight.”
The two figures began their work of tying her up. Binding her body tightly in cloth then with thick twine. They lifted her, now bundled up, onto another set of cloth and shoved wooden staves into her wrappings to keep her rigid.
“You’re taking her down to Alsira Thaenat?” The older figure gave another long grunt after his inquiry.
“Yes.” Master Leiros replied. He got to his feet, his eyes sparkling in the brilliant illumination of the twin suns. “I’ve consulted with her mentor. One, Ylethus kolst Hauthenstvoll, the hero of yesterday’s raid on Haaken Vaulthaen. Despite all the trouble this girl has caused him, he would like her back.”
“Him and us.” The older figure, named Hethras, spoke. His arms were crossed over his chest now, and he glared hotly down at Ghelta beneath a bushy, grey brow. “It’ll take months for us to replenish the waters of vision that she drank up.”
“Would Ylethus allow us to interview her later?” The younger figure spoke trepidatiously and with great curiosity. He knelt down beside her, taking a quick glance of her, and then upwards towards Master Leiros on the other side.
“No, Brother Telnomai.” Master Leiros looked quickly to the young man before him, and then gave a two-fingered hand signal to someone far outside of Ghelta’s vision. “What swims in her head is for her to deal with. She isn’t authrakallin, we don’t know if the information you’d get out of her would be corrupted.” He turned to his right and took two steps backwards, signalling once more.
“A shame she’s such a disgrace to our tribe.” Hethras gave an arrogant snort. “She’s blood-haired. You know what they say about those. They either make damned good seers, or they go insane and end empires.”
“The Mad Oracle?” Telnomai looked up to the old man beside him. “All the more reason I would want to see inside that head of her’s. Maybe she’s of the blood of Merith-”
Hethras gave Telnomai a hard kick to the flank and moved his glare to the younger supplicant. “We don’t say that name Brother.” He took a few paces in a small circle. “It’s unlikely, the Mad Hag killed all of her brood ages ago. This one is just a fluke in heredity, no doubt the same source of her stubbornness.”
Ghelta and all three men were soon engulfed in a great shadow. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. She looked around her slowly, feeling a burning strain in her sockets. She could see a figure perched above them on an outcropping of rock. She did not know if she was hallucinating or not, it looked like a immense authroc-bird.
The bird’s directed gaze fell squarely on Ghelta and seemed to pierce inside of her. She felt like she was being hypnotized by the creature. Like the bird wanted to speak some great epiphany or wisdom.
“Well, that’ll do it.” Master Leiros gave her a hard kick to the side to test the tightness of her wrappings and supports. “Thank you brothers, for your assistance.” He took steps around the bird’s perch, climbing up beside the great creature. “I’ll be back, shortly.”
The bird unfolded one of its wings, allowing Leiros a support to get on it’s back. Once taken up, he gave the authroc a gentle pat behind its head and smoothed some smaller feathers on its neck. He gave a loud whistle, the bird flapped its wings and descended to the rock that Ghelta laid on.
Brother Telnomai scuttled away quickly, almost being struck by the bird’s giant claws. Brother Hethras remained still and unphased, a yard away from the bird’s landing. Telnomai got to his feet, and both supplicants bowed to their master, taking two steps backward, turning on their heels and walking away.
Ghelta heard one more whistle, and felt one of the immense claws seize her entire form. A flurry of feathers and beating wings filled her vision. She felt herself want to be sick as she could feel the ground fall away from her, another claw came forward and seized her, pivoting her beneath the bird. Soon, the world was nothing more than sweeping wind and her sense of sickness turned to a sense of serene peace.
***
The chill wind on her face blistered at her cheeks and made her nose numb. Flakes of snow blew all around her and the light sprinkle of moisture on her forehead helped to sooth her nerves. Despite the cold, she was quite warm, bundled tightly, wrapped in hides and furs, keeping her warm and comfortable.
She was laid out, half-propped up, nestled among some items in a sled. Her bundle was next to another bundle containing strange implements and items that smelled sweet. The sled she was in was being pulled by a figure covered in furs. Every pull rocked her forwards and backwards in a manner that almost put her to sleep.
“Kolma.” The voice was male, stern and came from the figure pulling her along the snow. “It’s been six weeks now since your labor. Are you ever going to give the poor child a name?”
A second figure, covered in similar furs came into view from the right. “No.” A woman’s voice, curt and equally stern.
The female figure bent down and disappeared from view. As quickly as she had disappeared she appeared once again, now holding a handful of something she quickly showed to the male figure, and then dumped into an open sack around her waist.
“Ewhent, I told you back at the camp…” The female figure’s voice trailed off into contemplation. “I told you I don’t want to get attached.”
“She’s our daughter, for the love of Tolesh!” The male figure let go of the reins he used to pull the sled. The ropes dropped to the ground and the figure took a few steps towards the female one.
“We’re heading west, Ewhent. I told you.” The female figure took two quick steps back away from the male. Her feet crunched in the snow, loudly. She held up a hand, gloved with hide and stitching.
The male figure stopped and held his hands up, leaning forward in frustration. “It’s just an old tale told by skaell-fathers to broden around a fire. The Mad Oracle of the West doesn’t exist.” He shook his head, swiped a hand in resignation and began to walk back to the sled.
“She does. Imeith has a first-hand account. You know that.” The female figure took cautionary steps forward until she got to the male. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to face him as he gathered the sled leads.
“That was decades ago. Imeith is a senile old fool who needs a broden-nurse to chew her food for her.” The man gathered the reins and gave a hard shove forwards. He continued dragging the sled through the snow towards their far-off destination.
“Imeith is my mother, you scalten cat.” The female figure began to walk forwards as well, disappearing once again to gather up something she found off to the far left. “She’s a seer who has never failed our tribe. Her memory is just fine.”
“Just fine my arse. What about that time she told that Tolsi-Kavi chieftain he was going to be murdered by his own bloodclutch before the next night of Widow’s Solace?” The male gave a chuckle at the memory. “The poor fool had his wife shipped off to the other side of the Athim Glaciers, and his children kept in a wooden cages.” The male paused for a moment, turning towards the woman who was out of view. “For weeks, Kolma. In cages for weeks.”
The female figure returned to view, running towards the male and giving a playful slap to his side. “Okay, one time she was off. But he was assassinated, though. As she said.”
“Yes, by a Haakuenth spy.”
“Well, but-”
“A Haakuenth spy, hired by a Shelev Satrapi. Both of whom had never met the chieftain in their lives. The spy sent in retribution for the chieftain raiding a Shelev trading vessel off the coast of the Sea of Frothing Blood. And this being a good four years later.”
“She’s my mother, Ewhent.” The female figure’s voice was growing stern once again. “And you never know, his son might’ve paid off that Satrapi and convinced his father to seize the vessel. Imeith never trusted the son. She said he had ‘scheming eyes’ and a ‘deceitful air’ about him.”
“Yes, a cunning mastermind, manipulating entire empires. At the age of eight.” The male figure continued to trudge along in the snow. The pulls forward were becoming harder.
“My love. Please. I know, she’s our bloodclutch. I care for her, just as you do.” The female figure stopped moving around and took up stride beside the male. “I’m just worried. She has blood-hair. You know the Mad Oracle always goes after those of blood-hair.”
“Yes, love, she does. The Mad Hag goes after blood-haired children…” The male trailed off and leaned in so that his fur-trimmed hood pressed against the hood of the female figure. “…In stories.” He pulled back and continued to trudge forwards. “This is real-life, and this our real daughter. Not giving her a name is cruel.”
The female figure stopped in her tracks, glaring for a few moments at the male figure. She moved in front of him, shoving him out of the way and headed for the sled. She leaned forwards, her face filling up the view. Filling up the entire world.
Her face was thin, still taut and youthful, a small smattering of freckles across her upper cheeks. Ice-blue eyes, a few errant strands of straight hair, so blonde as to almost be white, falling down from out of her fur-trimmed hood. Her lips were tight and severe, curled into a sneer at this moment.
She lifted the bundle up and the entire world changed. The home of the sled fell away, the sky became brilliant, brighter as the snow across the ground reflected and magnified the sunlight. She was being lifted high up by this figure and then brought further as the female form lifted her to the extremes of her arm’s length.
“You want me to name her?” The female form held her so that the male figure could look at her. She saw his face now, as well. Soft, brown eyes, clipped brown hair, a week’s worth of beard adding a shadow to his sharp jaw and rounded chin. The look on his face was more of tired caution than anything else.
The female figure turned her from the male, back to herself, her face filling up the world once again. “Fine. I’ll name her. Right here, right now.” The female brought her closer, cradling her between the woman’s arm and chest. Despite the body heat emanating from the woman’s form, she felt no comfort from her. “I name her Merithault! And let her be damned! May the old hag recognize her for her own, and take her!”
Tears fell down her small and chill face, over her numb nose and lips. Icy water flowing over her cheeks and pooling around her chin in the bundled blankets she was wrapped up in. The male figure pulled her away from the female one. He set her bundle down back into the sled. The world returned to normal.
Yelling began between the two figures. It was through that yelling that she surrendered to crying and exhaustion. Soon, falling asleep and returning to trepidatious peace, once again.
***
There were shouts outside the muirral-skappf, the lodge for those wounded on the field of battle, and the shouts were growing closer. Ghelta opened her eyes, still feeling like heavy tent covers that refused to stay open. She had a bit more mobility now, able to turn her head side to side, but up and down were still hard on her.
She attempted to lift her sword arm, the left one, and it responded. It lifted a few inches from the cloth-covered straw of her bed and began to shake after only a moment. She could feel her strength leaving her quickly and let it drop with an impact of dead meat to the cloth below.
She looked around the shaded interior of the room she was in, there were several other beds nearby, all of them empty. Some of the beds still had rough wooden frames suspending them above the partially wood-covered floor. Some others were nothing more than cloth and hide, draped over straw and rocks, with exposed earth below them.
Nearby the cloth-draped doorway, a bundle of blood-soaked linens were piled upon the floor, and several blood and filth-soaked sack-cloth bags beside them. It would seem she had been out from the world for quite some time, as all of the wounded from the raid were no longer nursing their wounds in here. No doubt, those who were gathered unto Olthenna had done so quickly, and those that had their wounds mended were drinking away their pain in one of the leiggen-skappfs. All of them, explaining their stitches and weeping wounds behind boasts of courage to any skaldt that would listen.
The shouting was just outside the skappf now, and she could identify one of the voices, the loudest of all, as her mentor, Ylethus. He was in one of his furies, bellowing at several other male voices and one female. She heard her name from several of the voices outside.
She slowly leaned back in her bed, pulling the cloth up to her chin, moving her arms into limp positions at her sides and began to squint her eyes. She didn’t want to seem awake when the argument entered the room. They couldn’t yell at or inflict punishment on one still unconscious and recovering. She scrunched up her face and let it relax, keeping her eyelids open just enough to see between her lashes.
It was only a dozen heartbeats of laying and staring up at the ceiling before she could feel the rush of air and the whipping sound of Ylethus throwing open the fabric of the doorway. He entered the room like a male herdsmoll aroused. Deep breaths, stomping of his feet, followed by rustling as he looked around the room. He was ready to throw any furniture around if he needed to. Then, silence as he saw her on the bed. His footsteps becoming softer as he neared.
Three more persons came into the room, one immediately on Ylethus’ heels, another holding the doorway open for the third. Someone nearby her feet took in a sharp breath to say something and then halted. She didn’t need to see, but she knew that Ylethus had his arm out, a single finger pointing up, as he did when he wanted someone to be quiet during his drills. He did not want the others to disturb her rest.
He spoke first, as he preferred, his voice deeper and calmer now. “You say she climbed to the top of Keignfel Stohll, surviving one of the worst storms we’ve had in years. Drinking a bunch of your crazy water to keep herself alive.” He took several deep breaths, one pitched off of the next. “All of this, after I beat her into submission at Tarenhulf Rise before my campaign.”
“Yes. She cost my order a signif-” The voice was male, but seemed very effeminate and cold. A man sure of getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He wouldn’t get what he wanted with Ylethus, however.
“Shut your damn mouth, boy!” He wouldn’t. No one did.
“Well, I never…”
There was a scuffle. Ghelta hadn’t the need to see what was happening to know that her mentor had just grabbed the stuffy man, most likely an oracle, by his collar and was currently staring daggers into his eyes. She wanted to smile but had to keep innocent in all of this. A poor, recovering adolescent, blissfully asleep to all the world around her.
“How may times do I have to tell you, Verran. I don’t give two sloppy Bretholmi whore’s fucks about your god-damned crazy water! I almost lost a student because of that arrogant Issau-Kavi bastard, Leiros.” She could feel a body being shoved into the foot of her bed, and someone being forced to sit down on it. “Who in Gehemol does he think he is? Leaving a girl to die at the top of a mesa in a sandstorm!”
“Master Leiros stated it was a test.” The man sounded like he was on the verge of crying.
“She’s not authrakallin, Verran. She’s taken the oath of vhulkovyr, shes of the warrior caste. Leiros doesn’t get to test her. Nor kill her for that matter. That’s my job!”
She could hear the man give two sniffles, sucking back the moisture in his nose. He was still being pressed into the bed by Ylethus. The other two figures in the room remained quiet.
“Yes. As you say. But-” The man took another sniffle. “But, she did perform the rite of Kollishi Authrak, and in that, Leiros was responsible for testing her.” She could hear her mentor pull away from the oracle. A ruffle of fabric, and his heavy feet padding around in a circle.
“She hasn’t even passed the Kollishi Thaulp. She’s still a child.” There was a tone of concern in Ylethus’ voice. It began to pull at Ghelta’s heart. Could this be him showing remorse for being so hard on her earlier. She knew he was proud of her, he couldn’t show it then, and he certainly didn’t show it most other times. Perhaps this is the closest she could get to love out of the old man.
“As you said, Master Verran…” A third voice broke in, it was the woman. Her voice cut like a knife and there was a feeling of command in it. “Master Leiros was responsible for testing her. As such, the responsibility for your lost resources falls to his actions. A broden cannot be responsible for their actions until they are an adult. That responsibility falls to their mentors, broden-mother or skaell-father.” Ghelta could hear the woman walk over to the foot of her bed, lifting the oracle up and dusting off his clothing. “Since you were away on campaign, Ylethus, and Master Leiros took it upon himself to test her, as if he were her mentor. The responsibility falls to the Order of Authrakallin for their losses.”
Verran cut in with a single limp syllable. “Buh-”
“Oelvann Molth is correct, Verran.” A new voice. This must be the man standing by the door, who remained silent all this time. His was a soft voice, commanding but soothing. “I believe this verdict to be true. If you feel you need to press your concerns further, we can hold a conclave within the elder circle. Understand, though, that this means you could lose face with the tribe.”
“Fine!” The overbearing oracle pulled away from those in the room and began to walk towards the doorway. He opened the cloth of the doorway, pausing for a moment. The light trickled in and overwhelmed Ghelta’s squinted eyes. “The brute can win this one. Mark my words, Ylethus, you oaf. She is a disgrace to our tribe.” There was scuffling, someone was holding Ylethus back. “We may be responsible for our losses and Master Leiros’ behavior. But, you are the only one responsible for raising an unwanted scoundrel, not even of the Alsi-Kavi blood. May her recklessness one day get you killed!”
Ghelta could hear her mentor belt out a roar of fury. The soft-voiced man was scuffling with him to hold him back. There were some mumbled words from him, telling her mentor to keep a cool head. Whoever the soft-voiced man was, he must be someone of very high standing in the tribe, as the struggles of Ylethus were without his full strength.
Ghelta took advantage of the noise caused by her mentor, to shift slightly in her bed, turning her head so she could get a better view of the people in the room. She could see her mentor now, tall, of dark hair and standing a head above everyone else. His head was balding at the front and top, his hair coming out sharply at the sides and then back like a frizzled bowl. His dark beard was streaked through with grey, spilling out of his face and over this armor and furs.
His beard was longest at his chin and came up sharply to red-streaked, sharpened mutton chops along the sides of his jaw. His hazel eyes shone with passionate fire, mixed with aged wisdom, despite his large and brutish figure. His hair told many of his age and stress at his station, yet the flesh of his face and body seemed to still be youthful. The only lines and wrinkles on him were on his brow. These were etched in from years of furrowing it in contemplation of strategy, or in disappointment of those in higher station than he.
His armor was mostly thick leathers, with a great many buckles and straps holding jagged bits of metal, as well as bone to his form. Despite the erratic look of his armor, one could still see the black cloaks of his station, and the fluffed, grey wolf’s fur trim that displayed him as one of the warrior caste. He was an imposing mountain of a man, barrel-chested and riddled with the muscle that only a man who thrived in battle could attain.
Before him was a very slight man, also dark of hair, but much younger, as he didn’t have any but a few grey hairs adding an accent to his sideburns. He too had a beard, but it was heavily trimmed and close to his face, keeping to three points at its end. He was wearing the elegantly trimmed blue coats of the Alsira Thaenat elder circle.
This man knew how to handle Ylethus, he always had both hands in the open and stood close enough to him that the hairs of their beards were almost touching. He could move quickly, keeping his form between Ylethus and the doorway. Only slightly did he ever touch her towering mentor, and it was only the briefest of brushes with his left hand. Not a threat, but more of a distraction.
She couldn’t see the woman, she must’ve been further at her feet by the doorway. She could only move so much without giving her wakefulness away to the adults in the room. She would have to hope the woman came closer during any more of the conversation.
“Calm yourself, brother.” The slight man continued to croon at Ylethus. Ghelta was surprised that her mentor tolerated being told how to feel. No one else she had met had been able to curtail one of his infamous rages. The station of the man was one thing, but she had seen her mentor tear through members of the elder circle without a blink. Was this man indeed his brother. Ylethus had never mentioned any of his family before.
“Aldunn Yulhest, we have another matter to mention to Vhollen Ylethus, do we not?” The voice came from the woman, she didn’t move from where she was. Her voice seemed less commanding now and more patronizing.
Ghelta could see the slight man, known as Yulhest, raise his shoulders and close his eyes for a moment, his head half-turned towards the woman. He was hesitant to follow through with what she was commanding him to do. He gave a hard sigh and returned his gaze to Ylethus before him, direct eye-contact this time.
“Yes, she is right, brother.” He gave a pause to gather his breath and took two steps backward. “It is a matter that concerns your student, this one here.” She could see the slight man look to her and motion with an open palm and flat fingers towards her. “Ghelta, I believe is her name.”
Ylethus squinted his eyes and took one large step towards Yulhest. “Yes.” He gave a breath, his chest extending and puffing out, making all the straps along his chest look like they would snap. “We already spoke about this matter. Those damned oracles are responsible, brother. The situation is resolved.”
“This isn’t about the water.” Yulhest gave a long sigh and a quick turn of his head towards the female by the doorway. He was looking for assistance from her, feeling thrown to the wolves. Or in this case, the alpha wolf. He soon realized he was on his own. “This is about your student’s ongoing behavior.”
Her mentor kept his eyes squinted and the actions of his body looked like that of a bear about to fall into a hunter’s trap. He looked from Yulhest to the woman at the doorway, to Ghelta, and back to Yulhest, again. She could see that he did not want to be pinned with the responsibility of her actions. He never did. He was a hands-off teacher, preferring to let a student’s folly become apparent through action and consequence, rather than discipline.
“And?” Ylethus let that single word drag out in the air. His forehead furrowed, showing all of the wear he had gained his life. He stood tall, staring into Yulhest’s eyes directly. He was sizing him up and challenging him, not blinking at all.
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“Oh, for the love of Tolesh, you two!” The woman took a step from the door towards the two men. Ghelta could only see a slight haze of her form, just barely out of sight. Nothing more than raven hair and angular features. “The behavior of your charge is unbecoming of a future warrior, Vhollen Ylethus. It must be remedied immediately.”
Her mentor quickly broke his aggressive stance and tried to break the conversation with an attempt at a non-sequitur. “I was a stubborn and precocious youth, myself. Don’t you remember, Yulhest?” He was trying to bring the slight man in on his side. Whether it was matters of war or matters of station, Ylethus was fond of strategy. This is why he held his title for so long with the current elder circle.
“Yes brother, but-”
“We aren’t talking about you or your past actions, Vhollen.” She knew his tactics. She also knew to keep mentioning his title, most likely to make him more responsible for the situation. She began to wonder if she would have to deal with all of these petty wars when she grew up. It must be exhausting to be an adult. Maybe passing the Kollishi Thaulp wasn’t so great after all.
“Ah yes, Molth.” He wouldn’t let her have her title. Perhaps a slight way of evening the playing field. “You’re right, forgive my remembrances. You see, you dragged my brother along with you for all of this.” So, he was his brother, after all. “Having him here distracts me. It makes me think of better times. When the governance of our tribe was more enlightened, and forgave the misadventures of youth.”
She didn’t have to see the woman’s face to know he had just hit a nerve with her. He also robbed her of using his own bloodclutch sibling against him. If only she could act awake, and had a handful of Jarrlysh Grubs, this might be like watching a few skaldts performing one of their dramas. Actually, no, she thought better of that. She always hated dramas, those would be very boring and a waste of time.
Yulhest took a step back, his thigh was pressed up tightly against one of the beds near the far end of the skappf. He was distancing himself as far as he could from both of the bickering two. He still kept between them, evenly, so as not to show any preference to either.
“My apologies, Vhollen, for distracting you. I know that comes easily, with your increasing age.” She took a quick and sharp breath, continuing to talk, preventing Ylethus from getting another word in. “I shall not involve your brother in affairs that I must have with you, in the future. He is an upstanding member of our tribe, and I don’t wish to have his reputation sullied. Especially, with matters such as these.”
Ylethus stood as quiet as a stone. A few of his furrows began to quiver on his forehead. He remained silent and watched to see where the woman was going with her words. Ghelta could tell that her mentor was growing angry once again, but the woman had cornered him. If he stuck out in one of his furies, she could use it against him. He had to swallow his pride and wait.
“You seem to have come into some glory and notoriety for your campaign against Haaken Vaulthaen to the south. Many would say that you have destabilized our relationship with the Haakuenth, leading to our ruin. Others laud your actions as necessary and forward-thinking. Either way, you have come into some worth.” She took another step backward, falling completely out of Ghelta’s sight.
“It was necessary. The tainted Haakuenth were whispering of war with us. Their oaths of peace had become forfeit.” Ylethus gritted his teeth when he spoke the name of the people of the south, known as the Watchers in the Dark, to many. She had heard him discussing his plans for weeks before he launched his attack. He was consumed by the plans for this campaign. He had called it a ‘pre-emptive attack.’ He continually said that was necessary to show the Haakuenth the strength of the Alsi-Kavi.
“We shall see in due time. For now, however, we have heard that you took a slave from the city. One named, Xanolith, former member of the Order of Owls.”
“What of it? Vhulkovyr of station are allowed to take slaves in conquest. I feel that his wisdom will serve our people, and he will be granted conditional release upon blood-oath as all slaves, once he pays his dues.” The hulking man crossed his arms over his chest. A slight quiver of his bottom lip let his emotions free. For all his mentor-ship, for all his strategic wisdom, all of his wrathful fury, at this moment he acted like a child whose parent was about to take away one of his toys.
“One of our skaelosti has informed us that this slave has given you information. Information you are using to launch an expedition into the far north.” The woman took a handful of graceful steps, moving around the room, still keeping frustratingly out of sight. It seemed like a dance, a predatory one, as she congratulated herself. Her voice had softened from that of a commanding presence to what seemed to be a woman seducing a lover. If this is how adults played their games, it was too much for Ghelta to manage.
The woman had nudged and moved her mentor right where she wanted him. Ghelta didn’t know a great deal about how the elder circle worked, but she had listened to many of Ylethus’ rants during training. He had always said never to trust one of the skaelosti. They were the spies, aides, and hands of the elder circle. Once one of them gave information a member of the elder circle, no one could counter-act that information.
It was said that the skaelosti were masters of secrets, as well as manipulation to get things done within the tribe. They were all members of the tolshaltra, or courtier caste, who had excelled in their duties for many years. Many said that a skaelosti would not take action or give information to the elder circle that was not absolutely certain, although, to be honest, everyone had faults and mistakes. Due to this reputation, and to the personalities involved, it was seen as a punishable offense to state that a skaelosti had lied. This woman from the elder circle knew that even if she didn’t have information, the merest hint of one of the hidden agents giving that information to her was enough to force Ylethus to spill all he knew, and spill he did.
“Your information is correct.” He practically spat his words from between his lips. “When we captured Xanolith, hiding like a coward in his collection of books. He was most eager to tell us of secrets in the north, so that we might spare his life.” Ylethus took another deep breath, and paused during his exhalation to stare hotly at his brother, still standing by the far bed. “What he told us, I feel, is deserving of an expedition to the north, so that we can secure the treasure he promised us.”
The room went silent for a moment. The woman by the door ceased her pacing. Yulhest pushed himself away from the bed, looked over the the woman, and then began to approach his brother.
“We aren’t here to impede your expedition, brother.” Yulhest put both of his hands out, pointing upwards, revealing his palms. It seemed like he was trying to calm Ylethus, again. “The elder circle has discussed this matter, and we support your endeavor.”
“Then why in Gehemol are you two bringing the damned thing up?” The towering man pushed his stomach into his brother’s hands. He began to growl under his breath while issuing another challenge of eye-contact.
“We see this expedition of your’s as a way to assist not just yourself and your own glory, but to assist the entire tribe.” The woman cut in, her voice becoming commanding once again.
“What I do, I do for the betterment of this tribe and the unity of our peoples. You know that, Molth. I’ve sacrificed much and served well.” His eyes darted across the room to the woman’s eyes now.
“We aren’t questioning that.” She gave a long sigh. She was growing impatient with the old warrior, possibly seeing him as her lesser and a waste of time. “We are merely stating that you can serve the tribe in more ways than one.”
“My apologies, Oelvann Molth. Brother, what she is saying…” Yulhest took a step back so that Ylethus wouldn’t be pushing on his hands any longer. “I’ll just get to the quick of it, here. The elder circle approved your expedition on the condition that you take several broden with you. Namely, my son, Istobin. So that he can use this to satisfy his rite of Kollishi Thaulp.”
“If you wanted me to drag your son along, brother. All you had to do was ask.” Ylethus immediately softened. It seemed that family was very dear to him. No doubt the one known as Molth was exploiting this to its fullest, somehow.
“He’s a bit soft-handed, but I can see that the warriors take good care of him. I was thinking of taking your other son, Taybald, he’s a fine warrior. He could watch after him.”
“…And one other broden under your tutelage.” The slight man cut in.
“Ruther? Celmas? Ulthrul? Most of them are too young. Even Istobin is very wet behind the ears, still, brother.”
“No. Ghelta.” The slight man pointed directly at her. She could feel her heartbeat flutter. She held her breath in anticipation and soon realized she needed to breathe to keep up her facade of unconsciousness.
The towering warrior that Ghelta had looked up to and considered a father-figure for her entire life stopped and blinked for a moment. His gaze switched several times from his brother to her, still feigning sleep in her bed. The moment she had waited for all her life had finally come at last. After all her training, all her fights, all her acting out in rebellion against the rules imposed on her, now was her chance to prove herself to her mentor, to the tribe, to everyone.
“Ghelta?” He burst out in laughter. It began as a deep roll in his gut and built up into a roar out of his mouth. A deep and thunderous thing that echoed along the very walls of the canyon that Alsira Thaenat was built into. “You want me to take, Ghelta? Has Jhulkos gotten into your skull and turned your brains to mush, brother? No way in Gehemol!”
She fought back the urge to bite her lip. She wanted to grab whatever was sharp near her, some barber’s shears, a sharp rock, a leftover bone, anything that would pierce flesh. Then, she would leap out of bed, taking advantage of the old man’s distraction, and jab whatever she had in hand right into his neck. How dare he laugh at her expense.
“These are the elder circle’s requirements for support on your expedition.” Yulhest used the back of his right hand to lightly hit his brother in the chest, so as to get his attention. It worked for a moment, as Ylethus stopped his laughing, and began to wipe tears from his eyes. “She’s overdue for her rite of adulthood. It’s just a small matter and would do her some good. Get her to stop acting out.” Ylethus burst into laughter all the harder. He began slapping his brother on the shoulder, his mighty hands almost caving his brother’s slight frame in.
He continued his joviality for a few more moments. The woman by the doorway gave a disgusted noise and turned to leave. She lifted the cloth doorway up, letting sunlight filter into the room.
“Ahhhh. Ah! Ah! Ahhl-right, brother!” Ylethus gave two more slow pats on Yulhest’s shoulder. “If I have to, I have to. But understand…” He gave two more low chuckles, his face growing rosy and bright underneath all is dark beard and brow. “If I take that miserable she-hound with me…” He stopped laughing and grabbed his brother’s collar in a tight grip, almost lifting him up off the ground. “Both your sons, and I, will be dead inside of a month.” He burst out laughing, this time more of a morbid cackle than any real joviality. He had a sneer on his mouth and his eyes burned at his brother.
“Whether you die or not, Vhollen Ylethus, those are the dictates of the elder circle. Take it or leave it.” The woman passed through the doorway and let the cloth fall behind her.
Ghelta could see Yulhest walk towards the doorway, waiting a few moments and then quickly sticking his head out from the cloth. Ylethus sat down on the edge of one of the beds nearby where she was laid out. Her mentor looked like a perched bear pretending to be a human. He looked down to the floor and both men fell silent.
“Is she gone, yet, Yullie?” Her mentor kept his eyes fixed on the half-covered floor of the muirral-skappf. He waited a few moments and then moved his eyes up towards his brother at the doorway.
“Yes, big brother, she’s well out of hearing.” He popped his head back through and turned on his heels to face back into the room.
“Good.” He got up from the bed slowly, the whole room seeming to creak and groan under his weight and size. “I need her and the rest of the circle to keep thinking that Ghelta, here, is a burden on me.”
His brother gave out a short laugh. “She is, though. You always said she was a handful.” He turned one more time towards the doorway, lifting a hand to smooth the fabric, then stepping away. “Hearing the gossip from some of the elder circle, about her behavior, I often feel glad that I didn’t let you pawn her off onto me and Sulesi when you found her.”
“She’s Sulesi’s niece. It was supposed to be your job to care for her.” The somber look on Ylethus’ face slowly lifted into a smile. “I am glad I kept her, though. She is headstrong, that’s for damned sure.” He looked over to her, still feigning unconsciousness on her bed. His eyes twinkled with that same pride he had for her when he bested her at Tarenhulf Rise. A reserved, silent, fatherly pride. “Once I beat some wisdom into her after the expedition, I’m quite sure she’ll be one of the best warriors I have under me.”
“Unless, she kills you first.” The look in Yulest’s eyes, as he gazed over his shoulder towards his brother, was one of joking, but the frown on his face showed his legitimate concern.
“Yes, unless, she kills me first.” He gave a chuckle that set the furs and cloaks around his shoulders to flutter around him. “You understand my reason for secrecy about her towards Molth and the rest of her ilk?”
“Yes, big brother. When you sent that letter to me, you described her as a hidden set of dice in a game of Jhulkos’ Maze. I know she means a lot to your plans concerning-”
“Yes. Good.” Ylethus broke in. The towering warrior took steps towards her bed, standing at her side. “Now shush up about it all. Who knows if that damned skaelosti has ears around here.” He used his left hand to unwrap some bandages around his sword hand. He gathered them up quickly and let his right hand touch Ghelta’s forehead.
All four fingers gently caressed, then held in place on her face, his thumb hovering in the air. He lifted his hand up from her, cupping his fingers together and bringing his hand to his heart. There, he held his hand open, palm to his chest. It was one of the gestures that a bloodclutch father would do for their children while they slept. To keep their life and dreams close to his heart.
“You better be glad she’s out.” Yulhest had moved over and put one of his hands on his brother’s shoulder, and began to pull him away from the bed. “If she were to see you all mushy like a herdsmoll’s shit, she’d be one hell of a nightmare for you afterward. Probably lose all respect in you.” He gave a pat and pulled again. “Come now, let her rest.”
“Yes, Yullie. Let’s go put our masks back on.” Ylethus turned and began a slow walk towards the door. His brother held the cloth opening for him as he stepped out first.
“No, really. Did you need to mention your experiences with Bretholmi whores to one of the Oelvann?” Yulhest let the cloth fall back into place as both of the men left, continuing their discussion outside of the skappf.
“That is the way I am, brother. I’m not like you, I don’t have the tongue to wipe other people’s arses clean.” Ghelta could hear her mentor give out a boisterous bellow that echoed throughout the canyon outside, followed by a loud slapping sound. “I’m mean. I’m crude. And I love to watch that Lyramese gut-worm of a woman squirm!”
Ghelta remained alone in her room, the cloth doorway settling and all light fading away. The fire and hate she had for her mentor had already washed away from her. She knew that Ylethus’ brother was wrong. She wouldn’t dare lose respect in him. All she ever wanted, was for him to be proud of her. For him to see worth in her, and now she finally knew it.
She felt a cool tear wind its way down her cheek. Once it had taken up perch on her chin, another followed. She bundled herself up in the tattered, stained sheets of the healing bed she was in and began to cry herself back to sleep.
***
She felt a sprinkle of moisture fall on her face, pulling her into wakefulness. Her eyes opened into a dimly lit area whose darkness was broken by wane, bluish light from somewhere far off, out of sight. She looked around, pivoting her head to all sides. Behind her was darkness, to her sides were immense walls of ice, and before her was a large rock, hiding the source of the light away from her.
Her left eye stung, and she could feel something cool flowing down her face. The sprinkling of wetness had landed up on her forehead, her left eye, and a smattering across her cheeks. She raised a hand, attempting to wipe away the stinging moisture in her eye, but she lacked the coordination to do so.
She could feel the wrappings she was bundled in become loose, falling away beneath her, exposing her to the chill atmosphere around her. She was only covered in light cloth, covering half of her body, and a woven hat covering most of her head. She was cold, she was hungry, and she was confused. She did not know where the two figures had gone, and panic began to set in. She wanted to cry out, to call to them so they could find her. She took in several large gulps of air so she could.
A noise echoed throughout the darkness around her, and she went silent, holding her breath instead of letting it out in a shrill cry. The first noise was followed by another, a ripping sound, something organic being severed from a larger thing. There was a stutter to the ripping sound, as smaller, harder bits were giving way under force. The final sound to accompany it all, was that of a sucking, wet, popping sound.
More moisture flew across the area, red droplets sprinkling the ice and snow around her. A wet glob of something landed where her hat met her forehead. Her nose was filled with a smell she knew without needing any memory of it. It was the same smell that greeted her into this world.
Over the rock she was behind, she saw ribbons of crimson and dangling bits of flesh being lifted and thrown against the farthest wall, to her left. On the right, the source of this grisly set of sounds and visions, a blood-soaked, razor-fingered claw reached up and took hold of the ice wall, nearby. The hand was supporting something, allowing a creature to get up to its feet. The icy wall was stained with spatter and a seeping hand-print.
Frizzled hair, more like a beast’s mane than anything that belonged to a human, came into view. The hair itself, a brilliant scarlet, lifted up over the rock. The form got to its feet, a mere stone’s throw away. That brilliant hair stretched from the crown of the form all the way to the bony rims of its hips and back.
The body of the creature was spindle-thin, barely any flesh or bone covering its elongated limbs and cadaverous body. Pieces of its form were draped in ancient, tattered and sun-bleached robes, almost transparent from wear. The flesh of the beast that wasn’t drenched in blood shimmered faintly with a mixture of silver and blue light. She could not understand if it was a trick of the light inside of this icy cave, or if it was the creature itself that shimmered from its very flesh.
She couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She let it out in a very small puff. She began breathing, but she couldn’t control the speed. Her lungs were drawing in and pushing out air faster, and faster. She wanted to cry out, to scream, to call someone to her for help, but she dare not. Her body was screaming for more air, and her mind was screaming to keep silent.
She wrestled with herself to keep herself quiet, but just as she tried to hold her breath one more time, drawing in one large gulp to do so, she felt an explosion come from within. A sneeze, propelling strings of mucus out of her nose and over her chin. The noise from her rebellious body echoed throughout the cave.
The form careened its neck to the side, still facing the source of the light before it. The creature turned to its right, a macabre grin spreading across what was visible of its corpse-like face. The body followed after the head, in a graceful, predatory turn. The creature’s eyes became visible. Brilliant orbs of blue light, scanning the area from left to right.
“They tried to hide you from me, little one.” The beast crooned in a raspy, female voice, that seemed to be nothing but vibration, without breath. “Now why would they do that? What about you were they trying to hide from me?” The words were followed by a short cackle that reverberated throughout the cavern.
The female creature lowered to its haunches and jumped towards the largest rock nearby. The form of the thing moved its head from side to side. Its legs were still hunched, its hands grasping and grabbing at nearby rocks or growths of ice.
Moments began to slow down, as every movement of the creature became hypnotic and all-consuming of her attention. Her eyes were widening, her breath was pitched, and her arms and legs moved around erratically, pushing and grasping at everything around her. She wanted to get away, her mind screamed to get away, but her body did not obey.
The creature turned its head one more time, those inhuman blue eyes turning to gaze right at her. That same macabre grin widened, and the creature’s rotten teeth became visible beneath what was left of the female form’s silvery lips.
“There you are child.” The creature’s voice took on a low and capriciously playful tone. It seemed almost to be mimicking the kindness that a parent might to a child. “I… See… You.”
Both of the razor-tipped claws reached out, the span of the fingers dwarfed out all of her vision. The spindles reaching and swooping under her blankets, about to pick her up. That is when she let out with a roar from inside of her. The loudest cry she could manage. A scream that trailed off until she had no breath to continue it.
“Don’t you fret, none, little one. It’ll be over fast. This existence was nothing more than a short dream.”
She screamed again, using all of her lung capacity to keep the sound going. When that one ended, she let loose with another. She could do nothing, her limbs would not respond to her commands, all she could do is scream.
The claws, both of them cradling under her bundle, began to slowly lift her up from the icy surface of the rock below. She was being raised up towards the creature’s face. That hideous, glowing-eyed, shimmering, jagged, corpse-like face.
That is when a metallic object erupted from the creature’s open mouth, spraying some sort of bluish-tinted humor across her face. She was startled for only a moment and then belted out with yet another scream.
The eyes of the creature grew even wider with surprise. The beast tried to shut its mouth, but could not as the body of what had pierced its skull was still embedded between its jaws and throat. The clanking of rotten teeth on hardened wood was followed by a slight whirling noise on the air. That noise being quickly followed by the eruption of flesh, as another metallic object tore through the creature’s cheek.
The beast dropped her bundle back onto the rock. The impact took the breath out of her for just a moment, until she drew in a new one and continued her screaming. If this was all her body was capable of, she would continue until she drew her very last breath.
“There’s an infant here!” The voice was male and far off near the light of the cavern’s entrance.
“What in the depths of Gehemol is that thing?” Another voice, also male.
Seven more objects took to flight on the air, and five of them pierced into the flesh of the creature. The thing turned, quickly, and almost with out any concern for the limitations of the human form, bent to face the interlopers in the light. The beast hissed, and a strange glow began to grow from inside the flesh of its right claw.
“What’s it doing? The glowing-”
“Keep firing those arrows, damn you!”
An eruption of force came out of the aimed claw, outwards, towards the men at the entrance. A sound assaulted her hearing like that of a sizzling campfire, soon followed by a thunderous boom. Many shouts, male and female, from the entrance, soon began to air over the ringing explosion.
Light and shadows played out a dance along the icy walls of the cavern. Shadows of bodies being thrown back, other shadows growing in size as they ran towards the creature. Smaller shadows darted across the walls and coalesced into a physical form of deadly arrows that peppered the beast and the walls. The entire scene was pure chaos. Her eyes were open to all of it, soaking it all into her mind. The glory of battle, the shouts of commands, the blood flying through the air, the howls and cries of pain.
As quickly as it had started, it ended. The creature leaped over where she lay and bounded behind her into darkness. More droplets of blood and glowing silver ichor fell upon her as the thing retreated.
“Where did that thing go?” A female voice, off to the left.
“Further into the cave. Be on your guard.” A male voice, behind the rock, echoing heavily from the source of the light.
“Did she take the infant?” A second male voice, filled with concern and nearing by the rock she was hidden behind.
In response to the voice, she gave out another hard scream. She clawed and kicked at the air around her, fiercely, hoping that the activity would draw them near. Once her scream was finished, she gave a pitched set of breaths, her throat feeling like it was bleeding. She choked hard, coughing and sputtering for a moment. Then, drawing in another breath, and letting loose with one final scream.
She looked up and saw a new face take up all of what she could see. Unlike the hideous face of a corpse, with glowing inhuman eyes, she was greeted with a face of kindness. A man with hazel eyes, dark brow, frizzy black hair drawn back in a ponytail, and a large, dark, bushy beard. His eyes lit up with relief once he looked down upon her and a smile crept in between his beard and mustache.
“Vhollen Khasul, I found her!” He reached forward, over the rock and grabbed her, lifting her up towards him. As she raised into the air, the hairs of his beard began to tickle her face. He placed her in the crook of his arm to support her entire body.
“Ah, good.” The voice was slow and filled with age. “This whole search wasn’t for nothing.” The voice turned away and gave an echoing yell towards the light at the entrance. “Get the wounded back to the vhulthovaul, down by the river. We’re done here!”
“Is this the infant you were concerned for, Vuthul Ylethus?” A female figure approached from the left coming into sight for a few moments, then turning to gaze into the dark recesses of the cavern. “Does that mean those two bodies are-”
“Yes.” The bearded man began to gently lift and drop her in his arms hoping to keep her quiet. She didn’t need him to reassure her in such a way. Simply being curled up against the heat and comfort of his form was enough for her.
“Kolma and Ewhent from the Issau-Kavi tribe. I’m related to Ewhent by my brother’s marriage.” He paused, bit his lip and looked down towards her, his eyes glazing over with moisture. “Well, I was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The woman turned away, knelt down and dipped a finger into a pool of silvery ichor. She quickly lifted the finger up, sniffing the dribble of liquid, and then tasting a portion. “Oh, dear gods! What is this crap?” She turned on her feet, and began a slow walk towards the entrance, flicking the clinging humor from her hand as she did so.
“You’re safe now, little one.” The bearded giant gave her one more gentle shake and then seized her under her arms to lift her up for inspection. “With all the blood you’re covered in, you’d think you were one of us. A warrior.” He gave a hearty chuckle and put her back in his arm.
A male figure darted into the cavern, moving around erratically and staring off into the darkness. “Is it gone, Ylethus?”
“Yes, Pokam, you scared it away with all your fury.” The gentle warrior gave a laugh at the younger man’s expense. He lifted a large thumb to his mouth, giving it a lick, and began rubbing the blood off of her face.
The man darted around the area, fidgeting like a bird and clacking the wood of his bow against his hip. “What was that thing? I’ve never seen anything like it. It took more than a dozen arrows and still bounded away. And that blast-”
“It was just a thaekkuz, Pokam. A cowardice-damned revenant. You should’ve heard the legends about them from your skaell-father back when you were a broden.” The bearded warrior had managed to clean most of her face now and began to take off her hat to get the blood off her forehead.
The younger man, still hitting his bow against his hip in anxiousness turned to give the giant warrior beside him a look for a moment. He watched him take the hat off of her head and use his index finger and thumb to pick off a piece of bloody flesh from her forehead and throw it away. The younger man turned his attention back to the darkness and ceased hitting his bow for a moment. He turned back to the taller warrior and gave a startled look downwards to her in his arm. His eyes turned wide with fear at the sight he beheld.
“Buh-blood hair?” He puffed air between his lips while he stammered his words. “Ylethus, by all the gods, old and new. That wasn’t a thaekkuz…”
“What are you sputtering, boy?” The large warrior looked up from her to look at the young man beside him. “If I said it was a damned thaekkuz, it was a damned thaekkuz.”
“Nuh. No, it wasn’t. It was…” The boy hushed for a moment and began to whisper behind a hand held up to his face. “…Merithault. The Mad Hag.” He dropped his hand and turned towards the entrance to yell at the top of his lungs. “Merithault! Merithault! Vhollen Khasul!”
The large, bearded warrior took a single step towards the younger man, closing the distance between them in a single stride. With his free hand he lifted his arm up, cupping the fingers of his hand, and in a single motion, brought the entire limb down hard upon the younger man’s head. He carried through with his swing, knocking the younger man off of his feet and pinning his head between a rock on the floor and the man’s gigantic left hand.
“Cease your yelling, lest you bring that thing back from the dark.” He gritted his teeth, small trails of saliva flowing into his beard. “If it means saving this child from that thing, again. I’ll gladly crush your skull like a rotten tolgant-fruit.”
She looked up to the man that was still holding her in his arm. His teeth gritting tightly enough that she could hear the bone straining under the force of his jaw. His hand still pinning the younger man beneath it. Her eyes moved to the younger man, as his eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull. His mouth moved quickly, sputtering spit and breath, but giving no sound.
“What is this I hear about a mad hag?” The voice came from the entrance and grew nearer with each word. The voice was male, confident and soft. She looked above her and past the beard of the man who held her to see a figure wearing white robes framed with purple and blue embroidery. A hood was drawn over the man’s face, with nothing but his eyes being visible over white scarves covering the lower portions.
“Nothing more than the ramblings of a young man who lost his nerve in battle, Master Toulam.” The beard jumped in her face, tickling her a few times as the larger warrior spoke. He kept his arm pressed against the younger man’s face, and their eyes never broke contact.
“Oh, I see.” The robed man was now standing almost between the two other men and leaned forward to make eye contact with her for a moment. “What I heard from Khasul at the entrance… The creature all of you were fighting against had ice-blue eyes, spoke our language, and had blood-red hair.” He gave a long sigh and looked at the bloody scene around him. “Being able to speak a language is quite a feat for a thaekkuz, I must admit.”
The robed man turned back to her, gazing for a moment at her face. “She is quite covered in blood…” He trailed off while moving his right hand up to her. He let three of his fingers roll over the top of her head, then quickly seized and plucked a single short hair from her scalp. “…But I surmise that the shade of her hair is not tainted by such.” She gave out a long cry as she became aware of the pain in her body. The large warrior moved his eyes towards the robed man and gave a long growl.
“Muh, muh. Master Toulam. The legends speak of children with blood-hair…” The stammering came from the man who was still pinned to the rock. The bearded one turned his face back to the younger man and cast his growling towards him.
“That they do, young Pokam.” The robed man twirled the fine, white-rooted and red-tipped hair between his index finger and thumb. “It is said in those same legends, that any child sought after by the Mad Hag must be abandoned or killed outright, lest the one known as Merithault should bring destruction to all who shelter her.” Green eyes from under his hood looked towards the hazel eyes of the huge warrior, watching the larger man intently.
“It was your visions that led us here, Master Toulam.” The bearded man kept his eyes focused on the younger man he continued to press down on. “You were kind enough to tell me that my kin were in trouble. We did not get here in time to save them, but we were able to save this little one.” The gigantic bear of a man gave a deep breath, pulling her closer into his body and pressing downwards harder on the young man’s head with his free hand. “I am in your debt for that, but I caution you.” His eyes broke and pierced into the robed man’s gaze. “Pick your next words, very carefully.”
The man in white lifted the hair towards his face with his right hand, his left coming up to pull the scarves from his face below his chin. His lips puckered slowly and he blew on the hair. He let it go, watching it fly away on the air. He gave a long smile and returned his scarves to his face.
“You are correct, Vuthul Ylethus. Although this young man’s recollections of ancient lore are true, his nerves have been heartily rattled from the day’s battle. I question his assessment of this situation.” The robed man reached into the top of his robes by his chest, rummaging around for a moment, until his hand emerged with a very small glass vial. “Would you be as kind as to release the young man, now?”
The bearded warrior looked over her to the robed man for a moment, then looked down towards her, his eyes softening, as he saw her looking up at him. He lifted his arm from the young man’s head and took two steps backward. His eyes slowly moved back to the young man and his brow began to furrow.
The younger man was dazed for a few moments but soon got himself up to his feet once again. He had dropped his bow during his struggle and gazed around himself to find his weapon in the snow and ice. The robed man moved closer and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, then snapping his fingers with his free hand to draw the young man’s attention to him.
“Do you remember what you saw, young Pokam?” The robed man had a gentle tone to his voice.
“Well… Uh-… Yes, I do, Master.” He looked fearfully up to the large warrior and gulped hard. “It was the Mad Hag.”
The robed man lifted the vial towards the young man and the man took it greedily. “We will need your testimony of these events when we get back to the vhulthovaul. This liquid will keep your memories sharp so that one of my authrakallin brothers can see through your eyes.” The young man uncorked the vial and swallowed the contents of it in a single gulp and then nodded. His eyes remained filled with fear and transfixed upon the larger warrior before him.
“Master Toulam.” The larger man began to lift and drop her slowly in his arms. He stared at the robed man intently, his voice carrying a threat that he did not say.
The young man smacked his lips a few times, exposing his tongue. “Master, this tastes like fyrraberries and tanning oil.”
“That is because it contains those, young man.” The robed figure kept his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He stared up beneath his hood to the larger warrior beside them and then turned his attention back to the younger one.
“To make absolutely sure your memories of this will stay, I need you to recite a few ancient words of power. These will bind your memories to your soul. Can you do this for me?”
The younger man nodded, once again. “Of course, Master.”
“Tetan, Authral-nethka velluram…”
“Tuh, taytan… Auth…raal nethkah… Vellyu… Ram.”
“Mala-yetrantis jhulhanti phural…”
“Maah… Laah… Yhetran, tiss… Jhool, hahntee… Fur-ahl.”
“Last part of the incantation now… You’re almost done. Vethul-vok, pharanthul hesphutas quol ishult.”
“Vee-thool… Vok! …Farr… Anthool. Hissfootas… Kwol… Eeshoolt.”
“Good boy!” The robed man gave the younger one a hard pat on the shoulder and stepped out of his way. “Now go meet up with Desan at the mouth of the cave. Vhollen Khasul will want both of you to do a patrol around the forest’s ridge.”
“Uh- Okay, Master Toulam. Thank you.” The younger man took two steps forwards, grabbed his bow from the ground and ran off into the light beyond.
She could feel the larger warrior beginning to growl under his breath as he continued to hold her close. His body tensed up and his arms curled to keep her protected. She reached up and tugged gently on his beard.
“Don’t give me that attitude, Vuthul.” The robed man turned on his heels to meet the bearded man. “He just drank one of the most powerful sedatives I have in my collection. Then, the dumb bastard recited an ancient Morthavi oath of silence. He won’t remember a damned thing after a few minutes, and even if he did, he won’t be able to speak about it for as long as his tongue remains in his skull.”
The robed man turned away and looked at the icy walls of the cavern for a moment. “He is illiterate, correct?”
“He couldn’t spell his name with his own shit and a broden-mother to help his hand.”
“Good. Then your secret is safe.”
“Is it?”
The robed man took two long steps and turned to face the bearded warrior, again. “Of course, it is. I heard that your band attacked a thaekkuz in its den. Sadly, the mindless creature slaughtered your kin. What the other vhulkovyr heard as language was nothing more than howls and whines of a cowardly corpse-thing that needed to be put down.”
“Thank you, Master Toulam.” The large man looked down to her one more time. His eyes revealed the feeling he had for her despite his growling and surly demeanor. She reached up to his beard once again and was met with one of his fingers. She took hold of it, a mighty spear of a thing, and his eyes began to moisten.
“Keep her close, Ylethus. Watch her well. She’s your burden now. May the gods help you, from this day on.”
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