Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (7 page)

Arandur set his bag upon the ground near his comrades’ bags. Grateful that they’d packed out earlier in the day, all they needed to do was report and be re-assigned. With no need to scramble, they let the anxious urgency roll past them. In fact, they exhibited no emotion at all beyond the focused, grim stoicism that drove them. They already knew where they were headed, already knew the horrific circumstances that awaited them, and the danger they faced. All that remained was for their assignment to be made official. They entered the building together and headed for the Hall of Leaves where they’d be told what they’d already figured out, and then they’d run, for one yet lived.

“Arandur, Sintriel, and Thalion. Well met, praise the stars you were not yet far off. Please sit,” Daerwen, Root Commander of the scout station, gestured toward a small grouping of chairs.

“We returned as quickly as we could. The stars were with us in this moment,” Arandur replied.

The bell tolled its last toll as he spoke, leaving a haunting emptiness in its wake. “It is rumored in the city of Mirëtasarë that the bells could be heard even a full day’s journey away; it has now been proven true. We are blessed that we only had the one to hear,” she said, then turned to a small cupboard that none of them had noticed before. It buzzed faintly. “Here is the message that was sent. It is fortunate none of us are mages. If we were, the sound would be unbearable. Of course, if we were mages, we’d also know how to turn it off.”

She opened the cupboard doors wide. Light shone from the board, cut stones pulsed with color above, a message was etched on the slate below.

Lindënolwë

War

3 Human

5 Elven Dead

1 Alive

Stay Away

Betrayal, Elven

Arandur already knew the message since Thalion had relayed it to them, but seeing the glyphs inscribed upon the silvery board turned his leaden heart cold.

“Five dead and one alive; the majority of the village must have been away for the Harvest Festival,” said Sintriel.

“So it appears,” said Daerwen as relief and sadness swirled in her eyes.

Why hadn’t the humans waited a couple of days to attack? The village would have been empty.
He wondered. “Do we yet know if the Mages of Lindënolwë are among the dead?” Arandur kept his face still.

“Yes, the four of them were there. With the boards having been activated, I would guess that one of them survived, though we know not which one.” They sat silent for a moment, absorbing the implications of three humans defeating a single mage of Lindënolwë. The family of mages who lived in that village were among the most powerful in the Realm, their strength becoming greater with each successive generation.

“I think perhaps the youngest survived. The others would have farspoken their warning; that is, unless they were severely injured or maimed in the attack,” Thalion said thoughtfully, his face grim. “Which direction do you think the survivor will travel?”

“Most likely north, toward Mirëdell; it is the closest settlement that is widely known,” she replied. Their outpost had been built and kept in secret. Good thing there were no settlements close enough to have heard their bell toll. Otherwise, from this time forward, their base would simply be an outpost, not a secret outpost.

“What would you have us do now, Daerwen?” Arandur formally asked.

“Gather two more to your team. I would have you track these humans and see where they go. Other scout stations will send teams from the north to search out the survivor.”

“It shall be done,” Arandur answered.

“Do we consider using the portal?” Thalion asked hesitantly.

“No.” The answer was immediate. “The portal would burn brightly, to those who can see . . . for at least a month. I have orders for its use, and this situation does not warrant it.” She did not elaborate.

Thalion nodded.

“Be careful. I would not have any of you join those that are dead,” their commander said.

“Yes, Daerwen.” They bowed low and took their leave.

“May the Stars shine upon you, grace your path, and show you the way,” she whispered as they left.

Arandur signaled the young scout apprentice standing outside of the Hall of Leaves closer. “Please, I would have you find Morcion and Urúvion and share with them that they travel with us. We go to Lindënolwë and leave as soon as they are ready.”

“Yes, sir,” the young apprentice said before rushing off to carry out the order.

Arandur spun around and strode outside toward their packs; he grabbed his without stopping and moved quickly to the head of the trail they would take. He stopped and stared off toward Lindënolwë as if he could see it from where he stood.

His companions caught up with him, then made themselves comfortable as they waited, silently taking care not to disturb their friend. When Morcion and Urúvion arrived, the group set off without a word, running along the trail through the woods at a ground-eating pace. They would make good time.

Elves could run as fast as an elk for hours on end without stopping, but scouts in general were valued above all others for their incredible strength and endurance. They could travel longer and push reserves further than any other in the Realm. It would only take the quintet three, maybe four days at most to reach Lindënolwë from the outpost, not the week it usually took. And from there, they would hunt the humans and look for signs of the survivor.

The scouts pushed on through the night until Arandur called a stop to their journey. They had traveled far, spoken little, and had not taken time to travel in stealth since this time there was no need.

They set up camp efficiently as a team who had done so thousands of times before, which they had. Thalion started a fire and prepared for their evening meal while the others hunted game to supplement their rations, pitched tents, and checked the area for traps or wards set against them. They did so quietly, not wanting to intrude upon the thoughtful, grieving silence that their leader maintained. Compounding their silence was the burden of not knowing what, if anything, they wanted to say. Other than that they grieved with him as they felt the loss of this family almost as much as he.

At dinner, heavy silence underscored the merry crackle of the fire as they ate. Bright stars blazed overhead, reminding them of ancestors long since passed and the new friends that had joined them. A mild breeze wafted, keeping the early autumn night chilly. Dinner was put away and bed-rolls were laid out before their leader finally broke the silence to speak.

“Riian and I went to school together. I know that we run toward his grave, and my heart grieves. For he would not have escaped to safety but would have stood firm to protect what was his from harm.” He stared at the fire as it burned low, flames licked the sides of the logs, wood popped and sparks filled the cool night air. “If five are dead, then he is one of them, for his parents were far greater mages than he.”

Eyes turned toward him, offering support and sympathy. Urúvion spoke softly, “It’s not an easy thing we do, and it is made especially difficult by grief. We’ll fight for those who can’t and will find the Humans so they can inflict no more harm upon the Realm.” Urúvion glanced at the hot glowing embers in the fire, then back up at his friends to growl, “We will travel quickly and catch them unaware.”

The next morning the quintet of scouts broke camp at dawn’s first light and ate the remainder of their meal from the night before.

Setting off before the sun had fully risen, they made good time. The quintet traveled quickly for two more days, stopping only to eat and sleep. At the end of the third full day they set up camp along the rim of the Valley of Lindënolwë. Weary and travel worn, they slept soundly that night.

The Fifth Chapter

In the Hollow of the Tree

H
aving decided on a plan
of action, Analindë paused to check her pool of Energy before venturing out of the hollow in the tree. Slipping into magesight and turning her sight inward, she sat back in wonder and surprise. A giant internal cistern now resided where the little pool had been before. It appeared as if each time she had reached for Energy tonight her capacity to hold Energy had increased tenfold. It was almost as if her need for Energy had excavated the spot and then her power had trickled into the space in order to be more readily accessible.

The change unnerved her until she remembered a discussion she’d had with her father years ago. He’d said that once she found the center of her power and continued to tap into it that her Energy would pull together from all over her body and condense into one place. She hadn’t understood what he’d meant at the time, but she was beginning to now.

He’d said, “It will take several weeks for it to begin to happen, and as the years pass, the amount of Energy that you will be able to hold will increase until you can hold no more.” He had patted her on the head, then tried to distract her by showing her a new plant species he’d been developing. Something to do with metal; she couldn’t remember.

Analindë surveyed the cistern of Energy tucked deep within her soul with a bit of unease. According to her father, it shouldn’t have formed this quickly. She thought of her shields and her wild flight through the forest. She’d needed quite a bit of Energy while hiding and forming shields. Maybe that’s why the pool of Energy had morphed into a gigantic, nearly-empty cistern.

She was fatigued and her reserves were scant. She turned her thoughts outward, slipping out of magesight, and thought of the exercise her mother had her do each time she’d finished working with Energy. If she were honest with herself, most of the time she thought her mother’s exercise was a wasted effort. Although sometimes the exercise made her feel better, soothed perhaps. She hoped it would help her now.

She looked out into the darkened forest surrounding her and then sat as her mother had taught her with legs folded in front, hands lying palm-up on each knee, back straight, head forward. She took a deep breath, held it, counted to three, exhaled slowly and then repeated the process again. With each successive breath she focused on thoughts of cleansing power washing through her body until she imagined that she felt calmness reach the tips of her fingers and toes. Then she imagined her senses reaching out past her body to the surrounding forest where it felt tranquil. Drawing upon that serenity, she continued to breathe deeply, focusing on settling her energies and calming her mind.

“Concentrate on your center,” her mother always said.

Analindë had always called it,
“Give me a moment’s peace while I think of what to teach you next.”
But now Analindë understood as she felt herself settle. It was a technique made for renewing oneself and finding peace.

A long while later, Analindë opened eyes that had drifted shut. “Thank you mother,” Analindë whispered while actively blocking the surge of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her at thoughts of her mother. She slipped slowly out of her hiding spot, checking the shield that surrounded her for weakness as she moved.

Reaching the ground, she stood for a moment, swaying in the darkness as painful prickles raced up and down her legs. “I should have moved around a little bit,” she mumbled while thumping her thighs with her fists.

She turned her attention inward to the black void in her mind in order to locate the Humans. They were still an hour’s journey up the trail where she’d last sensed them. The wizard had given up his random strikes, and she felt only the stillness of the night. The Humans weren’t moving and, most likely, were asleep. Analindë shifted her thoughts away from the void and looked around the clearing in front of her, searching for any traps that might have been left to catch her. But clouds had moved in, obscuring the moon and stars, leaving very little light to filter through the trees to the forest floor.

Stars! It was dark.

She contemplated how to conjure a light. Well, to be exact, she knew how to conjure a light; she just wondered if she’d be able to shield it properly. . . . Moments later a green magelight flared to life above her palm. No larger than a small pebble, it lit an area ten paces in all directions.

Analindë scrutinized the void, watching the sparks that represented the Humans while waiting to see if the wizard would recognize her use of Energy and stir. Nothing happened. Branches creaked as the wind wove through outstretched limbs. She shivered in the cool night air and shifted her gaze outward once more. She looked around for traps while waiting, then checked the void again. Still nothing.

She peered at her scratched and battered hands. They hadn’t fared well during her scramble through the forest. Without gloves she’d need to be more careful. Her muscles ached with fatigue and her left arm hurt where the backlash had recoiled against her. She was injured. But peace, strength, and a bit of hope firmly held her up, giving her the will to go on. She looked to the void once more and found that the Humans hadn’t budged at all.

Relieved, she smiled, dimmed her light to hide her from things that might be watching, sent the sphere out in front of her, and dropped her hand. She trod briskly away from her hiding spot and the trail she had followed earlier. Not five minutes later, she found it.

A broken path through the woods.

Three hours later, as she pushed through yet another twisted patch of scrub oak, Analindë wished that the path was a little less broken. Yet, it
was
a path, and the Humans were not on it. So she was content. But she was tired. Oh. So. Tired. She’d climbed over rock piles, across streams, and finally near dawn, up the side of a cliff.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a cliff, just a goat track which zigzagged straight up the side of a very steep mountain peak. Up and up she went, scrambling over loose shale, around scrub oak, and past boulders the size of small cottages; the track continued.

The dark blues of morning faded gray, soon the sun would be shining over the tops of the mountains. She absently wished she had the strength to appreciate the view. But she didn’t. She had strength only to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and for making sure her feet kept to the trail. Having fallen hard upon her hip, she hobbled up the final ascent of the narrow track. The trail rounded one last corner and widened out to a small rocky plateau that overlooked the valley below. Relief at surer footing was quickly replaced with dismay.

“It’s a dead end!” she whimpered, glancing around. In the pre-dawn light she paced from one end of the small ledge to the other, searching for the spot where the trail would pick back up again. “Trapped.” She muttered as she watched the outline of mountain peaks surrounding her grasp and catch hold of the morning’s light.

“There is no cave.” She swiveled around to look down the trail. Dread filled her as she thought about having to descend what she’d so recently fought to climb. “But I thought– . . .” the image of the broken trail leading to a cave flashed through her troubled mind. Shoulders slumped, she limped to the cliff’s edge and stared out across the many valleys slowly being caressed by pale yellow light. It spilled from the east, filling the west with a glorious happy gold that she could not feel.

Numbness held her still for a moment as the aches and pains in her body throbbed and made themselves known. Her feet in particular were hurting; the only thing keeping them from hurting worse was the constant shifting movement of her weight back and forth from one foot to the other, which she didn’t have the strength to do anymore. She contemplated sitting down for a while, but then she remembered her initial concerns about coming to the cave in the first place. The wizard.

“He’s got me cornered!” She whimpered as she threw her thoughts into the void to search the Humans out. “No, . . . They’re still in the same place, . . . and not moving.” Doubts meandered slowly through her mind. She was too tired to sort them out and didn’t want to force herself to make sense of the muddle.

With nothing left to do and with the Humans far away from this place, Analindë looked around the barren ledge surrounding her. She sank to the ground in exhaustion, dissolving the forgotten magelight as she fell. Loose dirt and hard rock met her knees, then pressed against her hip as she sank to her side. She winced. “I’m so tired,” she groaned.

As she fiddled with the ties on her scout pack, her eyes began to water. Tears ran down her face, unchecked and unnoticed. She thought of her family and numbness enveloped her. Completely blind to anything around her and careless as to anyone who might hear, huge sobs wracked her body as her heavy heart broke into pieces. She cried so hard that she couldn’t breathe and soon felt herself gasping for breath. But even that couldn’t stop the sobs. They came until her mind went numb, forcing her to shy away from the events of the previous day. She found comfort in the impassive coolness that settled upon her heart.

Unfortunately, the coolness never lasted, and it wasn’t long before she was sobbing out the pain of loss, of love, of aloneness once more into the brisk mountain air, bemoaning the fate that had befallen her family. With eyes swollen shut and a nose she couldn’t breathe through, her chest heaved with tightness, gasping for air. The panic of not being able to breathe in turn led her to that cool numbness where her mind was blank from trauma best left forgotten, where she found some small amount of peace, where the world didn’t matter and she could just be.

And then wracking sobs came once more until she couldn’t breathe, followed by the pervasive numbness. And so the cycle continued again and again until she could cry no more.

Hours later Analindë sat quietly at the edge of the precipice and stared unseeing at the breathtaking vista; the weak autumn sun shone down upon her. Tears spent, the feeling of loss lay heavy in her heart. Gradually, thoughts of betrayal and Gildhorn wormed their way back into her mind. The man was treachery personified and no one knew about him.

Someone must warn them.
She thought to stand, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was exhausted.

The High Council will eventually figure it out; they don’t need me.
She settled her mind back down. The air was cold and the sky was a bright blue. Wind whistled past the rocky peak behind her. The ground was hard beneath her legs. Her mind was blank of all else, but worry eddied within her anyway.

No,
they won’t figure it out. They’ll know that someone betrayed us, but not whom.

She told her legs to stand up. They ignored her again.

She must move on, but she didn’t want to move . . .

I can’t stay out here forever. It isn’t safe.
She thought of the Humans hunting her, and moments later Analindë pulled herself to her feet. Her muscles screamed in protest; every move she made was agony. Scabs cracked and scratches started to bleed again.