Things Unseen: (An epic fantasy adventure series) (The Caris Chronicles Book 1) (25 page)

“Retell your story,” he replied.

“Oh, if you want,” Caris told him.

As the night wore on, his questions slowed and he sat back with his eyes closed, occasional mouthing her words along with her as she retold a story.

The elves fascinated Caris with their unusual beauty and obvious joy.
They seem to celebrate everything, every moment, and every beauty. They are so ready to laugh and yet so ready to cry as well,
Caris reflected as she thought of one of the truly tragic tales she had heard that evening.

Caris was thoroughly enjoying herself. She had wanted to visit Crispin before the evening meal, but Amarin had pleaded with her not to as she didn’t judge her yet ready to climb the stairs twice in one day. Colden had sought her out, however, to inform her that Crispin was sitting up in bed and talking freely, happy to find himself among elves. She looked forward to talking with Crispin the next day and was happy to be without anxiety concerning him.

As she watched the dancers, Caris’ thoughts returned to the feast they had enjoyed at a village on The King’s road and the afternoon she had spent dancing with Janen. She wished he were here to share this experience with her. Janen would love the elves.

It felt like forever since Caris had seen him. She had thought of him often and missed him a lot over the last half moon, but now with time to relax and enjoy herself without worry, a deep longing, to see him and sit by his side and talk with him, filled her. She wondered where he was and whether they had had any success in tracking down the pendant. She hoped fervently that they had regained it and were now safely returning to The King.

Crispin slowly recovered. Though alert and communicative, Colden was worried about his wounds reopening if he exerted himself too much. Therefore, most of Crispin’s stay among the elves was limited to the top branches where he received many visitors and was able to give and receive news about the outside world.

Early in their stay, Caris had found Crispin much relieved and content to take his time to heal. He informed her that the elves had sent a missive to The King from him. Caris had expressed surprise that they were in contact with The King and Crispin had replied that they were among His most loyal subjects.

The knowledge that The King was aware of Crispin’s whereabouts and the loss of the pendant was a relief to Caris as well. Gone was some of the urgency of reaching The King with the news as soon as possible. Caris found she settled into life with the elves remarkably quickly. In many ways, they were completely different to her people, and yet she felt more at home in Telvendor than she had ever done elsewhere.

Early on, Caris had offered to hunt to help earn her keep, but the healers had unanimously rejected her offer. There were plenty of hunters and no need for another; they wanted to use her limited time with them to teach her as much as they could of healing. Caris had protested she wasn’t a healer, to which Colden had merely replied, “How do you know?”

Caris had not had an answer and as she was fascinated with everything to do with how plants could be used to benefit the body, she had taken the opportunity to learn as much as she could. Her mornings were spent leisurely strolling the woods with Jeniel, searching for plants and learning their uses. Caris found that she liked her new companion immensely. Jeniel was full of laughter and song and showed a keen interest in what Caris’ life had been like growing up; but what drew Caris to Jeniel the most was their mutual interest in plants and healing.

Caris had never had female friends with whom she shared much in common. She had loved her sisters dearly and had a couple of girlfriends from her village, but while they loved to sit and talk about dances, who they might marry, the children they would have, about baking and the clothes they were making; Caris preferred to be outdoors working, exploring, and hunting. Her new companionship with Jeniel was filling a hole Caris had not been aware was there and she was sorry her time with her would be so short.

As Caris spent time with the elves and learnt more about their community it was like a balm to her soul. She was astounded to learn that the elves lived for hundreds of years; fifty-five was considered a long life in Caris’ village. While the elves considered themselves blessed to have two children, it was normal for families in Caris’ village to have five. The scarcity of children in such long lives meant it was impossible for elven women’s lives to revolve around the rearing of children or grandchildren.

Caris was amazed to discover all the different activities, both the men and women elves, dedicated their time too. There were healers, musicians, story tellers, scouts, hunters, painters, wood carvers, builders, and a myriad of other occupations that built a community that was not only functional, with everyone’s needs met, but also beautiful.

Caris longed to be part of a community where she could be valued for her contribution; despite the fact she wasn’t marry-able. The knowledge that such a community did exist, helped Caris to begin to believe that her existence was justified, that she could have a worthwhile role even if others didn’t recognise her value.

Caris spent most afternoons with Amarin, learning how to make ointments, teas, and poultices. She learnt how to package them for longevity and what dosages to administer for different ailments. Jeniel and Colden often came to Amarin’s small rooms to help teach Caris.

Caris seemed to have a natural affinity for plants, surprising in that she had come from a place with so few. Often when Amarin told Caris the use of a plant, it felt like a confirmation of something Caris already knew. Colden, Amarin, and Jeniel often exclaimed over how quickly Caris was learning. The knowledge she was lapping up was information it took them many years to acquire.

Amarin warned her that as elves they always spent years practising healing as they learnt, and that Caris would have to be very careful of how she used her head full of knowledge in practical application. Colden contented himself with making withering comments to Amarin and Jeniel about how he wished his apprentices applied themselves half as much as Caris.

At first, Caris felt guilty about how little time she had to spend with Crispin, but whenever she went to see him, he was deep in conversation with one elf or another, and though he always welcomed her warmly, she felt like she was intruding. She quickly settled into a routine of sharing a midday meal with him. Most elves ate midday meals with their families and so she often entered his room just when someone was leaving.

Crispin was healing well. Under Colden’s excellent care, no infection had set in. The cuts had been deep and he had lost a lot of blood, but the flesh was knitting back together well. Colden was diligent in not allowing Crispin to do any activity that might reopen the wound, but with the painkillers, Jarla gave him regularly, and his constant stream of visitors, Crispin was enjoying his time with the elves.

Caris was delighted to find that gathering around the fire for the evening meal was not a special occasion but the norm for fine weather. Her evenings were filled with splendid food, songs, and stories. The joy and laughter of the elves was contagious and Caris discovered a love of life and a lightness of spirit, she had never experienced before. She wished she could remain with the elves forever, but a nagging feeling told her that if she did she would be missing out on something.

Her time with the elves had intensified her desire to see The King. Their stories of him, his character, and exploits, had intrigued her and though some of the things they said sounded impossible to Caris, she desperately wanted to meet him and find out for herself.

****

Janen crouched in the shadow of a tent. The revelling lost people had long since succumbed to sleep, leaving only five on watch. It was a well-lit night and Janen knew that once he broke cover he would be clearly visible to anyone looking his way. There were only three tents between him and the lost ones he had been pursuing.

Four of the watch sat around a fire close to the exhausted group. They stared into the flames trying to warm themselves against the cold night, rather than walking the perimeter
. They will be night blind, unable to see anything in the darkness after staring into the fire. Unfortunately, they are so close to my target it will still be very hard not to gain their attention. I hope they are not too lazy to go to the aid of their friend when he calls.

Janen heard a faint sound from the other side of the ridge, followed by the unsure voice of the lone lost one, “Hey! Who’s out there?” Two of the grey ones went to investigate the noises; he hoped Kalen would be okay. The other two just waved them away and sat shivering near the fire. Janen couldn’t wait for a better opportunity. He crept from tent to tent and then over to the sleeping lost ones.

He had no idea which of them had the pendant or where they were keeping it. Hunkering low to the ground, he began to inspect the closest body. He stared at the rags she wore,
there is nowhere for her to conceal it!
He moved onto the next, and the next, hoping that the lack of pockets, shoes, packs, or anything with a compartment would make it easier to spot the pendant in the first pocket or bag he found. Both the lookouts were sitting with their backs to him but Janen kept glancing their way nervously as he continued his crouching search through the bodies.

He stepped on some loose stones, causing a crunching noise.

“What was that?”

Janen dropped flat behind a sleeping grey person. One of the watch turned to where he had heard the noise. They were only a few paces away. Janen knew there was no way they could fail to see him.

“Somes one rollth over,” his partner slurred in response. “You’ve been jumpthin at shadows all nights, you’re making me nerthvous.”

Janen lay on the ground trying to control his shaking as the first man went back to staring at the fire.

“I’m nervous,” he grumbled. “You know what the dark lord did to that last mob what lost the pendant.

“No one’s gointh to take the pendant, it’s right there,” slurred the second, gesturing behind him.

They continued bickering as Janen forced himself up on all fours. He stared around the group, trying to get a clue as to the pendant’s location. To his amazement, he saw it clutched in a hand only two people away. He reached quietly over the top of the closest body and gently tried to remove it from the next one’s hand. His fingers were locked around it.

Looking at the watch, to make sure they weren’t going to turn, Janen climbed over the lost one that was lying between him and the pendant. He kneeled down and tried to pry the fingers clutching it free. They didn’t give at all. Janen lay down again, putting a body between him and the lookouts.

He tried to control his shaking but he was so scared he could hardly control his limbs. He tried to think what to do. The pendant was so close! He could even put his hand on it, but he didn’t know how to remove it without waking the man who held it. He lay next to him, gently trying to open his fingers, with no success.

Finally, without knowing why he did it, he leant over and spoke softly but with definite threat in his tone, into the man’s ear, “Give it to me.”

He pulled the pendant and the man let go with a whimper. Janen held it in amazement. He was terrified the man would wake. He held his breath as the lost one started moaning and moving around in his sleep. Janen looked over to the watch, expecting them to turn around at any moment.

“Oh, great lord!” one of them exclaimed covering his ears “They’re at it again.” He stood up, and Janen froze in fear. “I’m going to see what’s taking the others so long.”

“I’ll come wisth you,” the other slurred.

They walked out of the camp toward the ridge. Janen’s chest hurt. Finally, he remembered to breathe.
Get up!
He commanded himself. He somehow found the strength to stand and stumble out of the camp on stiff legs.

Once back in the dark, on the outskirts of the tents, Janen began to regain control of his thoughts. Fear still filled him, but he concentrated on calming himself and willed his muscles to relax. It was a technique he had learnt hunting. It was easy to clench up in the excitement of the hunt, especially when young, but animals always seemed to sense you when you were like that, so he had learnt to relax his body, becoming more in tune with his surroundings. He ran through the exercises in his mind he had used as a young hunter before blending in with his surroundings had become second nature.

Feeling calmer, Janen tracked the best route back to Syngar with his eyes, and then set out.

He reached him safely, only to discover Kalen had not returned. Syngar was a bundle of nerves. Janen handed the pendant to Syngar who took it without looking at it.

“We never planned how she would know you were safely back,” said Syngar in dismay. Janen was feeling calmer and more confident again.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “The hard part’s over, I’ll go get her.”

“Why did you say that? Never say that,” Syngar moaned.

Janen smiled at him and ran off saying, “I never took you for the superstitious kind.”

He ran in the shadow of the ridge, only slowing as he came within earshot of the lost ones who were still trying to work out why they could hear noises but not see anyone.

“I’m telling you,” one of them said in a guttural voice, “Sound carries out here. They could be beyond the next ridge, making those noises.”