The Mountains Rise (25 page)

As if I would be fool enough to send them from my current location, or to stand still
if I did.
Daniel’s contempt for his opponent’s ineptitude was growing.

He had to be careful, though. A lucky hit would probably impale him. The She’Har’s
spellweaving would tear through any shield he could create, regardless of its strength.

The thing about shields, particularly when they were impenetrable, was that they resulted
in a sense of security that was generally unfounded. Most of the time, Daniel was
on the other end of the stick, and because of that he had experienced first-hand many
of
the
techniques an enemy might use to kill someone
who
stayed too long in one place, secure in their advantage.

The simplest was to bury them, removing the ground they stood on and covering them
with it, but most experienced mages were quick to prevent a fall by creating a shield
beneath themselves. Another method that Daniel occasionally used was to create a
larger barrier outside the defender’s and then make the environment intolerable, e
ither by filling it with flames, or simply removing the air itself.

That required the attacker to be
,
not only stronger than his opponent, but also to be able to create a shield that
his enemy couldn’t break. In this case Daniel was stronger, but Syllerond’s spellweaving
would make it easy
for him
to breech any containment
Daniel
created.

A change in the air alerted Daniel that something had changed, causing him to switch
directions and run further back
until he was at the edge of his cloud. A nightmare of tentacles exploded outward,
flailing around him. One connected with his shield and began to curl around it, while
more came to reinforce its hold.

He’s a Gaelyn, fool!
Daniel had been so preoccupied with trying to plan an attack that would defeat the
spellwoven defense
,
that he had forgotten to take into account that his enemy had the special gifts of
the Gaelyn Grove.

Sheathing his arms in razor sharp blades of force Daniel struck out, slicing away
the
thick fleshy arms that were grasping at him. Unfortunately
,
Syllerond had taken an immense size, though, and the wounds were of little consequence
to him. The cloud of dust began to dissipate as Syllerond summoned a strong wind
to disperse it
,
and Daniel noticed one thing immediately.

He dropped the shield when he shifted.

The human mages he had fought were usually careful to keep their shield up when they
transitioned from one form to another. The few who weren’t careful didn’t live long.

That special shield he uses must be too difficult to maintain while he transforms—and
he’s too proud to use something inferior like a simple shield in the interim.

Visible to each other now, Syllerond’s shield was already back in place
,
and his impossibly long tendrils wrapped themselves again around Daniel. He sliced
at them with his bladed arms
,
but the She’Har’s defense kept them whole despite his best efforts. He fought to
anchor himself
,
but the tentacles pulled him inward with irresistible strength.

Daniel’s own shield was still intact, for the spellweaving around Syllerond was defensive
in nature, not being designed to cut through another’s shield, even one as simple
as a human’s.

A voice emerged from the maw of the nightmare beast. Apparently Syllerond had repaired
his voice during his transformation. “I have you now, baratt.
I’ll crack your pathetic defense and strip the flesh from your bones while you scream.”

“Thanks for the kindness,” said Daniel as he drew near to the center of the pulsating
mass of flesh and disturbingly sharp looking teeth, “but I’ll pass.”

There was nothing he could do to hurt Syllerond now, but he hadn’t survived so long
without developing a finely tuned killer’s instinct. Daniel had already formed his
plan. Sending his aythar down into the soil
,
he focused until he had a firm grasp on the ground beneath them before ripping it
upward, propelling both of them skyward with violent force.

Using the earth to knock an opponent upward was difficult to defend against, much
more so than pulling it out from underneath them, but it was usually not particularly
damaging, especially if they had some means of saving themselves from a fall. Gaelyn
mages in particular tended to shift almost instinctively into a form that would enable
them to fly, turning a disorienting moment into a sudden advantage in mobility.

Daniel was betting that a She’Har of the Gaelyn Grove would react similarly.

The tentacles around him vanished as Syllerond’s flesh flowed inward, contracting
to form the body of some large raptor. As before, his shield vanished for a brief
moment.

Daniel
lashed out
,
and his bladed arms cut neatly through Syllerond’s almost complete bird form. With
an ignominious squawking noise, the She’Har died and fell away in two distinct halves.
Daniel fell with him, gravity taking its inevitable hold on his body.

It wasn’t his first big fall, however. Stretching out his aythar
,
Daniel created a wide circular half dome of aythar beneath him, leaving it open in
places, so that it functioned like a fine sieve, allowing air to pass but only with
some resistance, slowing his descent. The main difficulty lay in balancing himself
on top of it. He managed that by pushing and pulling at the wind around him
,
but he wondered if there might be a better way.

Settling to the ground, Daniel spared no more time thinking of his dead enemy. He
went instead to Amarah’s body. She lay where she had fallen, thoroughly dead, but
most of the damage was internal. Inside
,
her organs had been shredded, but outwardly he could find little wrong with her.

Wet drops fell to the dusty ground between his feet. Sitting down beside her
,
Daniel pulled her body up and against himself, so that it appeared as if she was
sitting in front of him, resting her back against his chest. He stroked her hair
and then wrapped his arms around her, as if the embrace might somehow ease the terrible
ache within his heart.

Not daring to move
,
he used his mind to draw the cittern back to his hands, lifting it carefully into
the air. “Let me play you one more song,” he told her, whispering into the hair beside
her ear. He eased the instrument into place across her lap, so he could reach around
her and play it. It was something they had done a few times in the past, when she
had been the only one to hear his music.

He didn’t think on it consciously, but his fingers began to play ‘Dana’s Lament’ as
soon as he put them to the strings. He tried to sing the words
,
but his throat closed and the words became choking sobs, so he gave up and just played
the music, letting the gentle chords soothe him.

Daniel played for an indeterminate period of time, until Thillmarius found him there.
The other humans of Ellentrea had fled during his battle
,
and none dared to return while he played. They feared being killed or punished for
what had happened. None wished to be associated with the death of one of ‘the people’.

The Prathion She’Har stood and listened until Daniel finished playing through the
song one more time, his eyes caught up in thought. When silence returned at last
,
he spoke, “You’ve surprised me again, Tyrion.”

Daniel ignored him.

“This will have interesting repercussions. No one would have thought you could kill
one of my people, even one as arrogant and foolish as Syllerond.”

“Does that mean your experiment was a success or a failure,” asked Daniel blandly,
his voice coarse and heavy.

Thillmarius raised his eyebrows, “Oh most definitely a success, and a far greater
one than I ever dared to imagine. But the results make it clear that there are many
factors involved that were not properly considered in its design.”

“Do those factors include, Amarah?” said Daniel, a dangerous edge in his tone.

“Who?” responded Thillmarius, but then he focused on the woman in Daniel’s arms.
“You mean the servant? Yes, that may well be a part of the puzzle. Our knowledge
of humans in
captivity has
,
until now
,
shown no sign of the capabilities they once had. Your development indicates that
something about you is very different, but genetically you do not differ in any significant
fashion from them, aside from your magical potential.”

“Geneteckly?” Daniel said.

“It refers to your inherited traits. Aside from your new mutation for aythar manipulation
,
you might as well
have been sired in Ellentrea,” said Thillmarius.

Daniel was tired of speculation
;
he wanted an end to things, “What’s next?”

“Well, naturally I’ll lodge a complaint with the elders. Syllerond was obviously
here to rob the Illeniels of valuable property, and more specifically he wanted to
disrupt my advantage in the arena. The Gaelyn Grove will undoubtedly also complain
about the death of one of their children…,” began Thillmarius.

“No,” interrupted Daniel, “How are we going to do this? Will you just wave your hand?”
He pointed at his necklace. “Or will there be an extensive period of torture first?”

The black-skinned She’Har laughed, “Oh my, no! Only your owner can use your necklace,
otherwise Syllerond would have done so.”
He put his hand to his chin, “Then again, perhaps he wouldn’t have, being the pompous
ass that he was. In any case, I have no intention of disposing of valuable property,
nor could I. You belong to Lyralliantha.”

“Then you should call her,” suggested Daniel. “Dangerous animals should be put down.”

Thillmarius grinned, “No, I believe that must be a human notion. The She’Har prefer
to train them and use them properly. You’ll be punished and taught to channel your
aggression more appropriately.”

A cold hand seemed to grip Daniel’s heart as Thillmarius mentioned punishment. His
arms tightened involuntarily around Amarah, as if she might somehow protect him from
his fear.

“Your owner has already been summoned, but there’s no reason to wait
for
the first round of punishment.” Thillmarius sent a long line of spellweaving snaking
toward Daniel.

He
began scrabbling backward, still dragging Amarah’s limp body with him, clutching at
her like a doll. His greatest fear had come to life, not only would he not be given
death, but he would have to endure even more of Thillmarius’ horrific ‘attention’
before being forced to continue living.

Creating a shield around himself was all he could manage. His rage and anger had
dissipated already
,
and sorrow offered him no protection against the deep fear that Thillmarius’ previous
sessions had engraved on his heart.

A woman’s voice rose, speaking in the alien tongue that the She’Har used among themselves.
Thillmarius’ magic stopped and then withdrew. Lyralliantha was walking toward them,
moving gracefully through Ellentrea’s crude streets.

When she had gotten close enough
,
the two She’Har began a discussion that
,
while it seemed calm on the surface
,
showed an entirely different level of emotion to Daniel’s special perception. Lyralliantha
was angry and Thillmarius, while he began the exchange mildly amused, soon became
irritated. The conversation was liberally sprinkled with a word that Daniel had learned
meant ‘no’ in their language.

After a few minutes they grew calmer
,
and their tongues grew still. Thillmarius was radiating a sense of resignation while
Lyralliantha seemed infused with sadness and something else—guilt? Regret? Neither
of the two made sense to Daniel.

“Your kind master wanted to put you out of your misery,” said Thillmarius. Misunderstanding
the look of hope on Daniel’s face
,
he clarified, “Her words, not mine.”

“Wanted?” said Daniel in dismay.

“Yes, I managed to talk her out of it. Unfortunately, she is insisting that I relinquish
you. I am afraid you will be under her care for a while, until she realizes the impracticality
of trying to keep baratti in her home.” Thillmarius seemed rather put out.

Lyralliantha was speaking to Daniel in soothing tones now, as one might speak to a
wounded animal. Her eyes were full of pity.

“What did she say?” asked Daniel.

Lyralliantha didn’t wait for the other She’Har’s reply, interrupting instead with
a barrage of angry words. Thillmarius pursed his lips and then answered Daniel.

“She was explaining that you would be coming to live with her,” he said.

“And after that?” said Daniel suspiciously.

Thillmarius paused, but Lyralliantha barked another word at him
,
and he resumed, “She was angry that you still do not speak our language. She seems
to think you would have learned it from me or the other baratti by now.”

“Will you tell her that I wish to die? Please?” begged Daniel.

“I will not,” replied Thillmarius. “It was hard enough to convince her to keep you
alive. I’m not sure how I will continue my studies with you living outside of Ellentrea.
I would caution you not to communicate otherwise to her, wildling. If you do
,
I will see to it that the people of your village pay for your inconsiderateness.”

Daniel gaped at him. Thillmarius had never threatened him with such a thing before.

The red-headed She’Har smiled kindly at him, “Just do as she tells you until she tires
of this game and sends you back into my care.”

A light touch on his arm brought his focus back to Lyralliantha. She motioned for
him to stand, to follow her, but he was still holding Amarah’s cooling body. He disengaged
himself and eased her to the ground before he stood, but the sight of her
there
broke his heart once again.

She lay
motionless
on the dusty
earth
, coarse brown hair in disarray. More than ever her features seemed plain
,
and her bent nose was starkly unattractive. To Daniel’s eyes she seemed at that
moment a symbol, representative of humanity as a whole, or rather
,
what they had been reduced to
,
in the hands of the She’Har.
She had been raised like an animal, unloved and uncared for, nourished on violence
and crude punishment, but Daniel had seen the spark of love and laughter in her.
It had risen from her heart, when it had seen only the tiniest bit of light.

He remembered her rare smile
s
, lips curling over crooked teeth
,
and in the memory of it
,
he knew that it was the secret to humanity’s greatest successes.
The great cities and machines weren’t made by people nursed on hatred. They were
made by people like me, people brought up to love one another.

Lyralliantha spoke again, tugging on his shoulder. Daniel’s face was dry now, his
tears gone, but he couldn’t leave Amarah like that. “May I do something for her?”
he asked.

Thillmarius had already gone, so Lyralliantha put her fingers to his temple and raised
his own hand to hers, allowing him to show her what he intended. She nodded a moment
later and let him proceed.

Opening a deep pit in the earth with his power, Daniel lowered Amarah’s body into
it before covering it again with soil. It was an impromptu grave, there in the middle
of the street, but it was better than any other human living in Ellentrea had ever
received. Picking up the cittern
,
Daniel let Lyralliantha lead him away.

She glanced at the instrument in curiosity, but said nothing. Perhaps she remembered
it from the vision he had shown her once. Daniel wasn’t sure.

Together they strode from Ellentrea toward the great trees that made up the Illeniel
Grove.

***

Daniel spent the night sleeping on the same platform that he had been placed on when
he first came to the She’Har. The air was chilly, but unlike the previous occasion
,
he now knew how to keep himself warm, wrapping his body with a light shield and
heating the air within it slightly.

He didn’t play the cittern, although he had nothing else to do. He was nervous and
uncertain, not really understanding Lyralliantha’s intentions. To avoid the risk
of irritating her
,
he stayed quiet and did nothing.

Despite his self-imposed inactivity
,
he was far from bored. After years of living in a small room with nothing new to
see or do, sitting on a platform in the Illeniel Grove was almost overwhelming. With
his magesight
,
he watched the She’Har coming and going, traveling back and forth along the wide
branches that served them as pathways between the trees. All of those he saw were
similar to Lyralliantha, with silver hair and blue eyes.

Lyralliantha herself was on a platform several hundred feet above him, meeting with
several others of the Illeniel Grove. He could see them together, but he had no way
of knowing what they were saying. Even if he could hear
,
he wouldn’t have understood the words.

Over the years he had picked up a smattering of random words in her language, simply
from listening to the announcers and random conversation
s
here and there. He knew the names for a variety of common objects and a few simple
responses
such as ‘yes’ and ‘no’. For the most part he was still ignorant of the language.
He had been surprised when Thillmarius had mentioned that she was angry he hadn’t
learned her tongue.

Had she thought someone would talk to him?

His few conversations with Thillmarius had been in Barion, the human tongue. The
She’Har hadn’t had the patience to spend any time trying to teach him his language.
As for the other humans, it had taken him years just to get Amarah to speak to him.
The only other person he had spoken to was Garlin, and the warden
certainly hadn’t had the time to tutor him.

Lyralliantha returned to him in the morning. She had a bundle of linen and leather
in her arms, a warden’s clothing. She offered it to him while speaking slowly, carefully
enunciating her words, “Tyleth si mach ni juerpar.”

Daniel accepted the clothes from her, but the words meant nothing to him.
Seeing the incomprehension on his face
,
Lyralliantha leaned forward, touching his temple and showing him a picture of himself
putting on the clothes. She repeated the words slowly at the same time and then added
an image of him speaking to her in turn.

He realized after a second that she wanted him to either repeat her words, or to teach
her the same phrase in his language. Unsure, he did both, “Tyleth si mach ni juerpar,”
he said and th
en he gave her what he thought must be the translation in Barion, “Put the clothes
on.”

Lyralliantha graced him with a smile, nodding. She repeated his translation, “Put
they cloves onn—tyleth si mach ni juerpar.”

They repeated the phrases back and forth a couple of times, until each of them had
the pronunciation close enough to be understood. Once they had that mastered, and
Daniel had donned the clothing
,
she said something new, touching his forehead to explain her words. A picture of
her leaving and then returning appeared in his mind.

“I will be back,” Daniel said aloud, after repeating her words.

She smiled, “I will be back,” and then she left, leaving Daniel to his thoughts.

Am I a warden now? Is this the
reward for killing one of them;
clothes and a home in the trees? None of this makes sense.

Lyralliantha didn’t return until that evening, when the sun was falling below the
horizon. She bore a tray with several bowls on top of it.
One was filled with an assortment of nuts while another held berries and small fruits.
The third bowl contained two pear sized fruits that Daniel hadn’t seen before. The
fourth bowl held a dead rabbit and two potatoes.

Her words and the picture she put in his mind made the question clear, “What do you
like to eat?”

His answer took considerably longer to relay. He began by sampling the nuts and berries,
telling her “I like this,” each time. She taught him a new phrase
in her tongue
to reflect his
Barion
phrase.

When he got to the fruit that he couldn’t identify
,
he resorted to trying it. It was mildly sweet with a resistance to his bite that
fell somewhere midway between the crunch of an apple and the softness of an overripe
pear. The flavor reminded him somewhat of a peach. “I like this,” he told her, repeating
the phrase in her tongue.

“Calmuth,” she told him. The picture she gave him showed the She’Har picking the
fruit directly from some of the great trees. She followed by eating one of them herself.

I wonder if that’s their only food
.

That question
was answered quickly when Lyralliantha ate a handful of the nuts and followed them
with some of the berries. She wrinkled her nose with an expression of faint disgust
when she looked at the rabbit and potatoes.

Daniel had done some cooking with his mother
,
and he was fairly sure that rabbit and potatoes had been one of the mainstays of
the
poorly made stew that he had been fed on the past few years. He had never considered
himself to be a good cook, but he knew that the most basic things he had learned watching
and helping his mother would produce something far better than what the people of
Ellentrea seemed to subsist on.

Raising his hand he offered it to Lyralliantha, waiting for her consent before putting
his fingers to her temple. He painted a picture for her, showing himself skinning
the rabbit and peeling the potatoes. He added new vegetables to the vision, onions,
carrots, parsley and cabbage, in the hope that she might recognize them. He ended
by showing himself cooking them in a pot over a low fire. He wasn’t able to give
her a picture of salt that was descriptive enough, but he managed to convey the ‘taste’
of saltiness combined with an image of small white crystals.

She seemed to understand, sending him images of carrots and what he thought might
be salt, but she didn’t move to leave. He hoped she was indicating that she could
bring the additional items in the future, but he had no way to be certain.

In some ways communicating with pictures is very broad,
and
yet it still fails to approach the depth that language routinely accomplishes,
he noted.

He used his
special
abilities to skin and gut the rabbit, leaving the unwanted parts in the bowl. He
had been tempted to throw them down, but he wasn’t sure that was the proper way to
dispose of waste for people
who
lived in trees. He cleaned the potatoes in a similar fashion, easily scouring them
until all the dirt and most of their peels were removed. Without a pot or an oven
,
he simply created a box-like construction of pure force and then slowly heated the
interior of it, roasting the meat and
tubers.

She watched him with interest, but said nothing.

A few minutes later they still had nothing else to do. His food was still roasting
quietly in its makeshift magical box. Lyralliantha showed him pictures of a new person,
another She’Har talking with him, but he wasn’t certain what they meant.

Then she pointed at his musical instrument, voicing another question.

“Cittern,” said Daniel, providing its name.

“Sit-urn,” she replied before adding another unknown phrase. Her tone was still questioning.

He mimed holding it and strumming the strings with his fingers, “You use it to play
music.” That earned him another curious glance
,
so he picked it up gingerly and eased it into position. A light touch sent a soft
chord vibrating through the air between them.

Lyralliantha’s face lit with sudden recognition
;
touching his forehead she showed him a dim vision of his mother playing the cittern
to him. She had remembered it from what he had shown her years before.

Daniel blinked, eyes watering at the sudden emotion the vision evoked in him.
I can’t believe she remembers that.
He nodded at her, saying the She’Har word for ‘yes’.
Relaxing his shoulders
,
he began to play again
,
the melody for ‘Dana’s Lament’ flowing from his heart to be expressed through the
strings. After Amarah’s death it was the only song that his hands felt like playing.

Lyralliantha became strangely quiet, as if afraid to move while he played. Her lips
stayed smooth
,
but the skin around her eyes shifted as subtle emotions played beneath the surface.
She watched Daniel play until the song was finished and then urged him to play again.

There was no further talk between them after that. Only the soft interplay of notes
dancing through the air before they finally reached the ears that waited for them.
The Illeniel She’Har seemed as though she would never get her fill of music, but eventually
Daniel’s food was done roasting
,
and he was forced to stop before it burned.

She left while he picked at the hot food, voicing more words that he didn’t understand.