Samual (42 page)

Mayvelle was practising with her weapons when Sam saw her. He had to admit that she impressed him with her skill. Though she was only rehearsing her moves with sword and shield, she was light on her feet, quick and obviously strong. She wore the armour of the border patrols as if it was simply skin. More than that she was obviously skilled, almost seeming to dance as she lunged, spun and kicked back. The Red God obviously favoured her. Though he had trained all his life with his own weapons Sam knew he would have difficulty defeating her with a blade.

Sam was nervous as he approached Mayvelle. More nervous than he had been in many years. But not because he feared a fight. In fact the last time he could remember feeling anything like this was when he'd first approach Ryshal and had worried that she might spurn his advances. This felt similar. Except that he was almost certain she would spurn him. And all he wanted was her friendship.

But Ry's parents were right about her he realised. She was tall and strong and too fast. Too fast to be of simply elven blood at least. And as she practised her lunges and parries with her sword in the clearing, he knew she was good. The sword was heavier than an elf would normally carry. Especially an elven maiden. And yet she swung it as though it was a part of her. The All Father only knew how deadly she would be with her blade in an actual battle.

Vero eskaline. Storm blood. Her gift was with weapons. And as he approached he knew it was a powerful gift. He suspected that she might also have other gifts. The Elder had said that the gifts of those with mixed blood were unpredictable. But did she know? Did she even suspect? And was that why she was so bitter?

Could she really be his sister? He had spent the entire night wondering about that. He respected Pietral and Alendo greatly for their insights into people. They saw further into others than he could understand, and some days he wondered if it was their own very special sort of magic. But this still seemed like such a huge leap to make from so little evidence.

And yet were they wrong? Or could they be right? That was the part that kept hitting him. It could be.

He remembered little of the days when his mother had died. For him it had mostly been a sad time when his mother had gone away and his father had wept. He had only been four at the time and he truly hadn't understood death. He only knew that she had gone away and that he missed her. But he had understood the truth when the new woman – Heri's mother – had come into his life. His mother wasn't coming back. Even as a four year old he had understood that terrible truth.

And what was he supposed to say to her? That was the other question that troubled him. He had to say something. Yet he knew his family were right. He could not simply speak what he feared was the truth. That she was his sister. It would only cause trouble and pain. Especially if it was true. And there had been too much of that already. These people had recently lost their home. Probably friends and maybe family as well. Just like so many others. How could he add to that?

People were still recovering from their losses. And now that they were through the wastes and once more in a fertile land with trees and forests and fields, spirits were lifting. The arguments and the open displays of suffering were fading. But it would be a long time before the people would truly recover. Especially those who had lost loved ones. He knew from personal, painful experience that those losses stayed with a man.

Should he even talk to her? The thought suddenly occurred to him just as she turned around and saw him.  It was too late then of course though he suddenly wished it weren't. He could already see the look of disappointment or disdain on her face as he trotted the last few yards towards her.

“Cousin.” Sam greeted her as family, even though he was almost certain he should really be calling her sister. But at least he didn't address her by title.

“Samual Hanor.” She didn't address him as family – a calculated snub. “Is there ought that you need?”

“Need? No.” Sam ignored the snub. He had almost expected it. “I merely came to bring you some news that I hope will be of some relief to you.”

“News?” She stopped her practice to listen to him.

“In case you were worried that I had some summoner blood within me.” But even as he said it he knew that it hadn't concerned her at all. It had terrified him, but she had no care that he might be one. He could see it in her eyes. He was plague ridden either way as far as she was concerned.

“I was not concerned.” And she still wasn't.

“And you have no reason to be. I returned only yesterday from seeing the Lady Meriana, and she pronounced me clear of the magic. There can be no thought that you share blood with one.”

“That is good to know.”

But it wasn't really. He could see it in her face. Hear it in her voice. She had never cared about it. What she cared about was something far darker. And it was then that he knew what his path had to be. He couldn't tell her what his family suspected. Ever. It was hard to accept, but she was not ready to hear the truth – if truth it was – and she probably never would be.

“Good. Then I would ask a small boon in return if I may.”

Mayvelle didn't respond. She simply stood there staring at him, as if worried by what he might ask and fearing it might be something too painful for words. In seeing that he suddenly knew what he had to say.

“You and your family clearly consider me tainted in some way. Bad of blood. Guilty of some crime. Ridden by disease.”

“I –.” She started to object.

“Enough!” He hushed her with a wave of his hand. “I have no interest in whatever fault it is that you find in me. My only interest is in the well being of my family. They are good people. Loving and kind. And I owe them all that I am. You and your parents were unfailingly rude to them when they visited on my behalf. That was unworthy.”

“I will ask them to keep their distance from you and yours. I would ask you to do the same. And if a meeting does occur by chance, it should be polite and respectful. No more is required.”

“That's –.”

“ – All I came to say.” Sam cut her off, knowing he had no more he wanted to discuss with her. He could say many things, but none of them would help. None could span the chasm between them. And if by chance that chasm was one day crossed, it would be to her detriment. She was perhaps better off in ignorance.

“Good day soldier.” With that he nodded politely and tugged on Tyla's reins to turn her around. And then he left, aware that her hatred of him had likely grown enormously just then. He wasn't worried though. She was angry and her blood might make her very dangerous, but she was still too well trained to do something stupid. Even so, he was glad he was wearing armour.

Had he done the right thing? He wondered about that as he headed back to the wagon and his family. Or had he simply done the only thing he could? He strongly suspected it was the latter. But these days it seemed that was all he ever could do. The Fire Angel was just as powerless in these things as everyone else.

“Concentrate Samual, concentrate.”

Sam sighed quietly as he heard Elder Bela ordering him on once more. As if he wasn't already concentrating! As he had been every other time the Elder had given him that same command. It was the Elder's most common instruction – and his usual complaint; the fact that his poor student was failing to try hard enough. Despite that Sam knew, or at least hoped he knew, that he was trying. Moreover he was making good progress in learning nature magic. And exactly as Elder Bela had told him it would, with every day its strength and versatility continued to surprise him.

Now, only two months into rebuilding the city of Shavarra in this new land he was already becoming adept at shaping trees so that they could support the new structures. He had to be because he like all the other Nature mages was in demand, day and night. The elves for the most part were still living in their wagons on the ground far below and were showing signs of frustration. They loved their trees and they would not be content until they once more could live among them. Consequently there wasn't a Nature mage around – from the masters to the lowliest apprentices such as himself – who wasn't being pushed to his limit.

Sam didn't mind however. With the restoration of Ry to him only five or six short months before, something had changed deep within him. He no longer thought only in terms of battle and fighting. He was still angered by those who had done this evil to them, and sometimes the rage ran wild in him, but he no longer lived in fear of an enemy attack. Without that fear and equally the anger that had been there before, he no longer needed to think about his magic solely as a weapon.

Naturally, the process wasn't complete. It would take many more months – perhaps many years – before he was able to lay down his hackles completely, if even then. But in the meantime he was relaxed enough that he was again finding the joy in practising magic as well as the power. It was something he hadn't known in a very long time.

Of course with every ounce of joy had to come an equal measure of sorrow as one of his father's aids had long ago quipped, and with his joy had come the burden of being trained directly by Elder Bela. A most demanding taskmaster.

He still didn't know what exactly the Lady had written in her note to the elders – perhaps it had been somewhat foolish of him not to have read it on the way back – and probably then to have burnt it. Whatever it was though, it had suddenly meant that his training schedule had become much heavier, and he was now being trained nearly every night and day, and only by the most learned of all the nature and earth mages. And so every day that he was asked to help with the rebuilding, he would be accompanied by Elder Bela, Master Riven and Master Lavellin who would instruct him in great detail about every aspect of his work. Often they would make him do and undo things a hundred times until he got them just right. Then they would huddle together like a gaggle of geese and moan about how their student simply wasn't trying hard enough, while he was forced to listen, unable to defend himself.

The only relief he got was at meal times, when he could scurry back to Ryshal and her parents and pretend he had a normal life, and those evenings when the war masters spent some time with him. With them it wasn't so much a master student relationship as it was a sharing of information, as he passed on what he knew of the various matters they were getting in their reports, and they in turn told him of their own understanding. It seemed that they now accepted that he was well versed in the military arts.

Ry for her part thought it was all quite fun. She saw his suffering as a sign of how completely he was being accepted into the community. She viewed the fact that he was being trained by the elders as a mark of great respect, and she felt proud of him. In fact some mornings she was so eager for him to get to his training that she pushed him out of the wagon half-dressed.  And as winter was now upon them some of those days were quite cold! But as she was looking so healthy and beautiful lately he would have forgiven her anything.

Her hair had continued to grow and it was now nearly as long as the second knuckle of his smallest finger. But he took the greatest joy in her improved health. She had almost fully recovered. Her shape had returned to the womanly form he had so loved. And he could see muscles in her arms and legs. She was even dancing once more, though not yet as energetically as she had done in his memories, and by the fire light she would weave her dance of love all around him. It might be winter, but to him it was summer every time he saw her.

Ry though and her parents like all the other elves were not always so happy, and Sam knew that the reality of moving to a new and foreign home was finally setting in.

It was a strange thing and yet in hindsight, it should have been perfectly obvious that this was coming. For months the elves' daily lives had been about the journey, coping with the hardships and the fear of another attack and of course grieving for all that they'd lost. That had consumed their thoughts. But when they'd arrived a lot of their problems had gone away, and suddenly they'd had time on their hands. Time to realise that they'd reached the end. And now it was no longer about leaving their old home, but about starting anew. Understanding that this might be their new home for life. Giving up on their dream of going home.

Nightmares were common according to the healers, and many had tears in their eyes as they woke each morning. Tempers had eased which was a blessing, but the sadness had grown so great that at times all the people had to spend time apart, simply to mourn.

Songs of sadness and suffering had been written and were now sung around the fires at night, filling the air with their mournful sounds. The priests were everywhere too, trying to bring hope to the people, and to help them celebrate the lives of those who had been lost and forget the pain of their losses. And while the anger might have lessoned, it was still there. It still came out at unexpected moments.

Yet it wasn't a total disaster. There was joy as well as sorrow. The moment their journey had ended, hope had started to burn in the chests of some.

It was as if the land itself was a healer. A healer of the very soul. It wasn't Shavarra, but it was the next best thing. From its magnificent trees, pristine flowing rivers and lush pastures and fields, it was much that Shavarra had been. So much so that when a name had been called for their new home, the elves had named it Shavarra. If they couldn't go home, then maybe they could rebuild their home here.

The people were caught. Trapped between the acceptance of their terrible losses and the hope for a better future. And maybe Sam thought, that applied to the elders as well. Or maybe Elder Bela was simply a naturally difficult man.

“I am concentrating Elder. It's all under control.”

And it was too. As he and the Elder sat there on the end of the outstretched branch while it gradually lowered, inch by inch, he could feel the tree responding to his magic, almost like a man stretching his muscles out under the pressure of a massage. Meanwhile the words from the carpenters hanging off ropes from the branches all around them, seemed to confirm everything he believed. They were measuring the relative heights of all the branches he'd moved into position, and constantly telling him that things were good. In between the calls for him to move the branch to the right or the left or higher or lower, they added phrases like ‘just a little bit' and ‘gently' as the branch came closer and closer to where they wanted it. And when he was done they told him as much.

In working his magic Sam wasn't actually bending the branches. That would be extremely difficult with a two hundred foot high cedar, if not impossible. In reality he was actually growing the branches in the desired direction. That was one of the differences between nature and fire magic that had had him at his wits end for a long time. With fire and even with earth you could shape it and watch it respond exactly to your will. With nature magic it was more a question of persuasion and encouragement. You couldn't force it to your will. Instead you had to let it think your will was its own, and then let it do what you wanted for itself.

The same was true of all the animals he was learning to call and command. They had their own minds, and while they would come when asked and do as he wanted, it was only as long as they also wanted to. Often the simplest things could interrupt a spell. Especially with the most simple creatures. Mice, small rodents and birds could all be distracted easily by either food or a threat. The instant either was noticed the command would be broken as they scurried off, the caster and spell completely forgotten. Fish were even more stupid and would forget any spell within moments of having been commanded, if they could remember them even that long.

“Yes you're doing well Samual, but you keep forgetting the water.”

That was another difference between the magics. With fire and with earth the magic was always there, ready to be used at a moment's notice, but with nature you had to consider the whole creature. The tree couldn't grow without plenty of water for it to drink, and so a chain gang of workers was hauling buckets and wagon loads of water to the tree's roots, while he concentrated on helping the tree drink it as fast as possible, filling its sap to the limit and letting it grow.

Still, it was a useful skill to know and one day, if and when they were lucky enough to return to Shavarra, he hoped he'd be able to use it to extend his own humble cottage. The mighty oak in which it sat had three or four massive branches which could easily be shaped to form a rather large platform extending out on both sides of it. It could become either a large balcony or a couple of new rooms. Perhaps even a whole new cottage could be built on it. The sad thing was that if he'd known of this ability, he could have done it years ago and his own cottage would have been far grander.

“That's perfect!”

The cry came from several of the carpenters at almost the same time, sparing Sam the duty of telling the Elder he had the positioning under control as well. But with the job done, he looked around him to survey his handiwork, and despite himself was impressed.

Where once the massive cedar's branches had grown at a steep angle to the ground, spreading out wide only at their tips, now the magnificent tree had spread all its branches wide in a radial pattern, like a man with his arms outstretched to the sky. It was the perfect framework for the carpenters to begin building their great platforms on. Once they were built they would begin on the walkways and buildings. The timber for that was already being milled.

Down below on the ground thousands of elves were busy cutting lumber taken from fallen and dead trees into planks and beams. Many more were painting them with the special preparations which would stop them from rotting or wilting. Another army of artisans was involved in the weaving of the thousands of leagues of ropes that would be needed to support walkways and hold the city together. Ropes that varied in thickness from the width of his thumb, to that of his waist. And all the while the designers drew their plans for each additional tree to be added to the city as it grew, and then gave the orders for each new beam, joist and rope to be crafted. The All Father only knew how they managed to plan such a feat of engineering down to such tiny details, and yet still create a beautiful vision of how an entire city should be. Or the Goddess he supposed.

He didn't even know how everyone managed to work in the freezing cold. And some days it was truly bitter. There was ice and snow on the ground in the mornings. Those were the days when he wanted to remain in bed. Of course Ry wouldn't let him. The city had to be built and he had to train. That was her final word on the matter.

Building an elven city was an art as much as a science, but the end result was a pure beauty greater than either could create alone. Sam like most of the other elves had only seen a fraction of the city so far. No more than the few trees he'd been assigned to work on. But even that little was enough to tell him that this was to be no hurried shanty town. Instead the master artisans had planned out a massive city large enough to hold two hundred thousand elves in comfort, all set out in two giant concentric rings of trees forming a circle nearly half a league in diameter.

On the inside of the rings of houses and buildings were the rope walks that would link the different parts of the city to one another, while below them were the clearings provided by nature herself. This was where they would have their bush walks, parks, stables, parade grounds and meeting arenas. The larger clearings were reserved for the farmers, who were already busy planting vast orchards and fields of crops in the fertile soil. Most of the horses and nature mages were busy helping them, and in only another few months the first real bounty from the lands would become available.