Elfsorrow

Chapter 15

It was night. Yron was standing alone in the centre of the stone apron outside the ring of guard fires. Behind him, his men either stood nervous guard or tried to rest as best they could in the increasing humidity and heat that had penetrated the temple in the last few days. Presumably, the atmosphere had been spoiled by the removal of the doors but Yron thought there was probably more to it than that. It was like the ambience in the rainforest; he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew all was not well.

He had come beyond the guard fires to listen and to think. Out in the forest the sounds of the night echoed around him; the growl of big cats, the calls of monkeys and birds under threat, the buzzing of an insect swarm under the canopy, awoken from rest. A spider scuttled across the apron right by his feet. The size of his hand, he watched it go, pursuing some prey he couldn't see, perhaps one of the myriad frogs croaking all around him, or the cicadas rasping as they tried to attract mates.

Yron felt uncertain and that was a condition with which he was unfamiliar. The runner he'd sent to the base camp earlier today hadn't returned and that worried him. He knew he should have sent two men but Pavol was very fit and wanted to see whether he could run all the way. Yron was a man to encourage endeavour and had loaded him with water skins and sent him at dawn.

Now he needed him back with news. There was danger coming and he was anxious about the sick in the camp. He needed to start moving back to the coast where his ships lay at anchor, and he was not about to leave anyone behind.

Erys finding the vital writings earlier that evening was good news in the extreme and Yron's first squad was ready to go before first light the next day. He had outlined for them a different route based on his incomplete charts of the forest. It would take them up to six days to reach the ships, assuming they stayed healthy. They were a quartet in which Ben-Foran had faith and that was enough for him, yet he still felt nervous for them. The rainforest was a danger to all of them but more so now. Their invasion could not go unnoticed for long and inevitably the elves would seek revenge.

The elven guard at the temple had surprised him with their ferocity but there was much worse out there and it was those elves he feared and those elves that he was sure were coming. He knew his men didn't understand why he was splitting his force. They had been taught there was strength in numbers, but in the depths of the rainforest it didn't always hold true. Small squads of men, quiet and careful men, would have more chance of survival out there.

Yron blew out his cheeks and swatted at a fly that buzzed around his head. How long before the enemy got here? Should he call up the reserve from the ships to cover his retreat? How long could he give Erys and Stenys to research? Should he cut his losses now? After all they had the main prize, if Erys was right, and all but those papers were leaving for the ships tomorrow. Erys would take the most valuable material himself.

Looking up into the heavens, Yron could see it was clouding over again. Thunder rumbled distantly. Another downpour was on its way. He turned to go back to the watch fires but a crashing in the forest stopped him. He spun round, cocking an ear. Whatever it was was blundering wildly. Probably a wounded animal. Whatever it was was coming straight towards them. He backed up and drew his axe, listening to the snap of branches and the calls of distress that set off the howler monkeys and the wild shrieks of birds in their nests.

He reached the ring of fires.

'Crossbowmen ready. If it's injured, we need to take it down. It'll attack anything that gets in its way and that includes us.'

A heartbeat later and those cries of distress resolved themselves into something that set his heart racing.

'Stand down!' he ordered.

He was already hurrying towards the path when the figure stumbled out of the forest, ran a few unsteady steps across the paving, slipped and sprawled on its damp surface.

'Erys!' Yron shouted, running to the fallen figure. 'Get out here now. Bring me some light. Move!'

He slithered to a halt by the man, who was heaving in great ragged breaths, coughing and shivering the length of his body. He knelt and put a hand on the man's shoulder.

'Calm down, Pavol. You're safe now,' he said.

Pavol tried to push himself up on his hands, his head shaking violently.

'No,' he managed through a clotted throat. 'No.'

'Shhh,' said Yron. 'You're scared and hurt. Take your time. Come on, let me help you over.'

Using his knees as a pivot, Yron turned the young man over so his head lay in the officer's lap. One of his men brought over a lantern and the two of them gasped.

Pavol's face was shredded. The left side had been clawed away, taking his eye with it. Bite marks covered his neck, the punctures oozing blood, and there was a flap of skin hanging from a deep gash in his forehead that had poured blood over his face. His clothes were ripped and torn in a dozen places, his right hand was mangled and broken and across his stomach more claws had gouged their paths.

'Erys!' yelled Yron. 'Where is that bloody mage?'

'Here.' Erys ran up with Ben-Foran.

'Get to work. See what you can do, then we'll get him inside,' said Yron. 'Ben, remember those leaves I showed you earlier? Not the snakebite ones, the others. Take one man and a lantern and collect as many as you can. Get them in a pot and boil them. Make a drink but don't throw away the paste you have left behind. All right?'

'Yes, Captain.' Calling a man to him, Ben-Foran hurried away.

'Erys?' asked Yron.

The mage shook his head. 'It's bad, Captain. He's lost a great deal of blood and he'll be infected from all these gashes and cuts. There's nothing I can do about the eye but we should wrap him up. He's in shock. I'll put him to sleep.'

'N-n-no,' stammered Pavol. 'Let me sp-speak.'

'Later,' said Yron, smoothing back his blood-matted hair. 'You have to rest now.'

Pavol reached round and gripped Yron's arm fiercely, his single eye boring into his captain's face.

'They killed all of them,' he said, each word dragging from his mouth. 'The camp. All dead.'

Yron tensed and put a hand out to stop Erys casting.

'Wait,' he said. 'Pavol, carefully now, tell me what you saw.'

'Something,' said Pavol, and he coughed blood which sprayed on to Yron's face, 'moved so quickly. I should have helped. But I just watched.'

'What were they? What did they do?' urged Yron. 'Animals?'

'No. Elves. Just one or two. I just watched them all die.' The young man's eye filled with tears and he blinked furiously. An ooze of gore slipped from his ruined orb. 'Then I crept away and ran like a coward.'

Yron's heart was thumping in his chest. What he feared most was about to come to pass.

'You're not a coward,' he said. 'You did exactly the right thing. There was nothing you could have done for our people. But you might just have saved all our lives.' He looked down at Pavol's torn body. 'What did this? Jaguar?'

'Panther,' he rasped. 'Big. Black. Stalked me for hours.'

'A panther? But there are no…' Yron's voiced trailed away.

'Attacked me only once. And those eyes. It looked at me. Almost… human.'

'And it left you for dead?' Erys's curiosity got the better of him.

'Yes,' said Yron, his eyes scanning the dark cloak of the rainforest all around them.

'Why?'

'Because, Erys, that panther was not hunting for meat.' Yron rubbed his mouth and chin. At least it couldn't get any worse now.

'Please,' said Pavol. 'It hurts.'

'I know, son. We'll save you.'

But Pavol was suddenly dead. Yron laid his head gently on the ground and turned to Erys, his mind racing with possibilities, a shiver of fear running down his back.

'How's your stamina, you and Stenys?'

'Pretty good. Your herbs do a better job than I'd thought.'

'Right. Get yourselves linked and commune with the ships. I want the reserve out now; I want them to establish defensive positions in front of the estuary entrance. Tell them we're coming in teams. Get to it.'

'That panther-' began Erys.

'Later. Go.' Yron turned away. 'Ben-Foran!'

His lieutenant ran over. 'Sir.'

'I want to see all the squads with cargo ready to go now. Any that aren't ready, get them so. That includes the two with Erys and Stenys. They're leaving now and there'll be a change to their routes. We've just run out of time here.'

'And the rest of us?'

Yron shrugged. 'We get to buy them as much time as we can before we die.' Rebraal stumbled again and crashed heavily into the trunk of a tree, only managing to turn his body at the last moment to avoid Mercuun taking the damage. His shoulder sang out its agony and a cry forced itself out of his mouth. He rested a few moments, panting hard, his pulse pounding in his head, his body soaked in sweat and his limbs shaking with exhaustion.

He had no idea how far he had travelled or for how long. All he knew was that it wasn't far enough and that now, with night full around him, he was fading fast. His eyesight wandered in and out of focus and every step was a trial. He felt constantly nauseous and faint and he was waiting for his body to give out and for Tual to offer him up to the rainforest. Him and Mercuun.

He pushed himself away from the tree and plodded deliberately on, seeking vegetation he could force through without a blade as he had done all day. It added to the distance but there was no way he could do otherwise. Once he put Mercuun down, he didn't think he'd have the strength to lift him again.

He ducked under a stand of broad leaves, his vision swimming again, the colours he could usually pick out so cleanly in the dark all washed out and running together. Again he was forced to stop while his head cleared, each time taking longer than the last, and it was then that he heard what he had most feared. The quiet padding of feet. The almost imperceptible movement of vegetation at odds with the ambient breeze. The careful placement and sinuous movement that spoke of the consummate hunter. Tual had spoken her wishes.

Rebraal was being stalked.

Shivering, his body wracked with the fever pumped around his bloodstream by his exertions, he forced himself on. Mercuun, unconscious for much of the time and incoherent the rest, was a draining weight in his arms. Rebraal knew he hadn't the strength to fight the jaguar, if such it was, and his only hope was to carry on, hoping and praying the animal was diverted from its hunt.

He upped his pace, his body screaming at him to stop, his mind fogging and new blood seeping from the wound in his shoulder. He tripped across a root, dropped to his haunches under a low branch and drove himself upright, gasping. He broke into a trot, imagining the jaguar's footsteps increasing, the shoulders moving under the sleek fur, the eyes piercing the night and the nostrils twitching as they caught the scent of blood.

Behind him, he heard the crack of a twig and the rustle of leaves. He ran, praying for respite or a hiding place. Mercuun bounced in his arms and moaned in his unconsciousness, the pain of his broken limbs finding him even there. Liana and vine slapped Rebraal's face as he went; he twisted this way and that, jumped more roots, slid down a slight slope and forced himself up its other side. He dared not look behind him.

The sounds of the rainforest filled his ears, their volume increasing tenfold, twentyfold, as he ran. The croaking of frogs, the rasping of lizards, the scurrying of ants and spiders. He could hear it all so loud, mingled with his ragged breath as he fought for air. He heaved them over the lip of another incline, not stopping, rushing onwards, splashing through a stream, his skull echoing painfully to the awful noise that built and built.

He felt his legs half give but drove himself for another pace. And another. He ignored the shuddering of his arms and the lancing stabs through his back every time his foot went down. He had to escape the jaguar, he had to get to the village and warn them. The temple. By Yniss, the temple had to be retaken. He couldn't fail or the harmony would be lost.

He raised his head to look for his route, his vision clouded again and a branch caught him squarely across the forehead.

Rebraal felt himself go as if in slow time. Even as his head rocked back from the impact, his legs carried on forward a pace. Impossibly unbalanced, his grip on Mercuun was lost and his broken friend tumbled out of his hands and away. He circled his arms desperately but still he fell back, landing in a tumble on the soft muddy forest floor, his head a mass of sparks, his senses all but gone.

He heard the sound of those feet running towards him, could feel their vibration through his tortured body.

'I am sorry, Meru,' he managed as he waited for the end. 'I have failed you.'

The hot breath of the cat fired into his face. He looked up into the eyes of Tual's creature to see the wonder of creation even as it tore his life from him but it was no jaguar. It was a panther, black as night with the light of sentience in its eyes. Its head darted in and licked at his cheeks and forehead, an impossibly comforting feeling as the rough tongue dragged at his skin.

He frowned, the last vestiges of his strength gone, too weak even to raise an arm, but as he faded to nowhere he heard a voice.

'How fast you ran, brave Al-Arynaar. But now you can stop. We have found you. We will take you home.' Ilkar had told them it would be different but he hadn't managed to get across the magnitude of that difference. The rainforest was vast. Unbelievably vast. It covered everything that they could see and, the Julatsan assured them, a thousand times more that they couldn't.

Sailing gently up the River Ix, they were hemmed in by walls of green on either side. The tallest trees towered over two hundred feet into the sky; their shorter cousins hung their branches into the water, sucking up the life that gave their colours such verdancy. But just as the forest seemed about to overwhelm them, the bank would cut suddenly away on one side, and the roaring they had been hearing for an hour would reveal itself as a waterfall, many hundreds of feet high, falling sheer down moss-covered rock into a deep plunge pool that fed straight into the Ix. And elsewhere they would glimpse huge gentle slopes, running away from shallow banks and up the sides of hills, that gave way in turn to spectacular mountains, thrusting through the all-conquering forest and up into the heavens.

And everyone but Aeb stared, stunned by the majesty of the land. The Protector betrayed no emotion and Hirad wanted to rip off his ebony mask and implore him to look, to laugh in delight at the beauty and to drink in his freedom. But to remove the mask would be to subject Aeb to torment at the hands of the demons who controlled his soul and the path between it and his body. Such was the curse of every Xeteskian Protector.

So Hirad tried not to think about it, and felt happy instead that some of what they saw brought light even to Erienne's eyes.

Everywhere was gorged with life. From the vibrantly coloured birds that flew overhead to the jaguars they'd seen lapping at the water's edge; to the snakes that curled around so many boughs of so many trees, and the lizards, rodents and huge hairy pig-like mammals that watched them with nervous eyes and snuffling snouts as they journeyed by. Below them yet more lurked and Hirad was glad of Ilkar's warning.

The lazy flop of fish at the river's surface was occasionally counter-pointed by the thrash of the great armoured reptiles that swam the Ix and basked on its muddy banks. Some of them had to be more than thirty feet long and the only animal not scared of them was even bigger. These giants, only their frog eyes visible, watched The Raven pass from their submerged positions. One slip, Hirad thought, and any man would be prey, though Ilkar swore to him that these lumbering aquatic animals ate only plant life.

Still, the river had yielded food for the night's stop. Before midday, the travellers had caught enough fish for a feast; they thrashed in a water-filled sack at their irascible guide's feet.

As the day wore on, tempers began to turn. Where the morning had seen the mist burn off and the rains come to cool them, the afternoon took on a heavy stifling quality that dampened spirits and leached strength. And when the clouds had stormed over them, and the lightning flashed under the dark grey mantle with thunder the prelude to yet another savage downpour, it had failed to clear the air and the heat was like a wall.

When at last, with light fading quickly, they'd steered for the bank and made camp forty yards from the river, the smiles were a fading memory.

Hirad sat on a log in the tiny clearing they had made under the patronising instruction of Kayloor who, Ilkar translated every now and again, was apparently appalled at the damage they were doing to the forest. Hammocks were strung in a loose circle around a shallow fire pit and wood burned there, lit despite its damp by Ilkar's FlamePalm.

Kayloor had produced a spit and stand from the boat's storage locker and was making himself useful cooking the fish. On another part of the fire, water boiled in a sizeable pot. Ilkar sat next to Hirad and the two of them looked around the campsite in silence for a time, watching. Aeb cleaned and sharpened his axe and sword. The Unknown was doing likewise with blade and daggers. Denser and Erienne sat on the other side of the fire, she constantly kneading her neck and trying to cover everywhere at once with her eyes and he scratching at an itch below his skullcap. The other three were out in the forest, collecting more wood and, so Ilkar said, some useful herbs, if they could find them.

'How are you doing?' he asked Hirad.

'Bloody awful,' said Hirad. 'I feel knackered but I haven't done anything. I'm already dreading another day in that damn boat, and if that guide of yours makes another clever comment he's going to find himself a snack for one of those great reptile things in the river. Oh, and my hands hurt from rowing.'

'They're called crocodiles. And quiet,' hissed Ilkar. 'We can't afford to upset him.'

They both looked at Kayloor but he didn't seem to have heard them.

'Look,' continued Ilkar. 'I know it's difficult to understand, but it's not personal what he's saying. It's how elves think. They tolerate Balaians in the trading towns and ports, but inland it's different. They don't think you understand the lore of the forest and of course they're absolutely right. Now, let me see your hands.'

'They'll be fine,' said Hirad, not convinced by Ilkar's defence of Kayloor. As far as he was concerned, the elf was just plain insulting.

'No, they won't, Hirad. You haven't listened to me, have you? This isn't Balaia. Are you blistered?'

'Well, what do you think, Ilkar?' Hirad raised his voice, feeling suddenly irritated. 'While you were sitting chatting with king smart-arse there, some of us were putting our backs out trying to move us upriver more quickly. And looking around here, I fail to see why we bothered. I mean, is this the best you can do?'

'Frankly, yes,' said Ilkar. 'Now let me see.'

'Gods, all right,' said Hirad, holding out his hands. 'You're worse than my mother.'

'I'm surprised you can remember,' said Ilkar shortly.

'Oh, and I'm sure you saw yours only just the other day. Or was it a hundred years ago? I'm easily confused.'

Ilkar didn't answer but grabbed Hirad's hands roughly, stretching his damaged skin.

'Ouch,' he said.

'Sorry,' replied Ilkar brightly. 'Right. It's not too bad but you've broken the skin in a couple of places. Assuming Ren brings back some rubiac, I'll make you a poultice that you should apply to each hand for an hour, all right?'

'Why don't you just do me a WarmHeal or something if you're that bothered? Can't imagine a few wet leaves is going to do much good.'

'They'll kill the infection and help the skin to heal over. Don't argue. Don't put your hands in the dirt if you can help it, and try not to row tomorrow.'

'Tell our great captain that,' said Hirad, pointing a finger at Kayloor. The elf said nothing, merely turned the fish skewered on the spit. Whatever Hirad thought of him personally, whatever the sort of fish he was cooking, it smelled fantastic. Hirad had forgotten how hungry he was. 'I just don't see why you're so concerned. They're just a few blisters.'

Ilkar breathed out loudly. 'I don't know why I bloody bother. Look – and I want you all to listen to this, not just cloth-ears, here. Worry about every cut, sore or blister you get. Worry about every rash, every stomach pain and every headache. For the last time, this is not Balaia. Infections are so easy to get, particularly if you weren't born here. Never drink water before you've boiled it or before a mage has cleansed it. But you must eat and drink well. I can see how tired you all are and you've been sitting in a boat all day. What if we end up having to walk? You have to give your bodies time to get used to the heat, the humidity, everything. Please tell me you understand.'

Ilkar's impassioned speech was met with a few muttered affirmatives.

'Two other points, if I may,' he said. 'First, Aeb, you need to bathe your face every night. Ren or I will make you a balm, though it would be easier if you'd let someone help you.'

'That is not possible,' said Aeb. 'I am the only Protector here. I will attend to myself alone.'

'Understood. The other thing, Erienne and Denser, is please look after your mana stamina reserves. No matter how hard we try, someone will most likely get sick and we will all get bitten to pieces. There are snakes that can kill in a couple of hours and anything that bites will infect you.'

'So glad you brought us here,' said Denser. 'I mean, is there anything we can do that won't result in death or serious illness?'

'Just take extra care. You'll soon get used to it,' said Ilkar. 'And I should remind you that no one was forced to come here.'

'Oh, really?' Denser raised his eyebrows. 'If you cast your mind back you'll find there was considerable pressure.'

'That's because we're The Raven. We work together and Ilkar needed our help,' said Hirad. 'I didn't hear you object.'

'But there was never any choice, Hirad, was there?'

Hirad snapped the twig he was holding and threw the ends into the fire.

'This again? Gods drowning, Denser but I don't remember you giving us any choice when you needed us to help find Erienne and Lyanna.'

'And look what good it did us,' whispered Erienne.

Hirad felt a pit open in his heart. 'Oh, Erienne, I didn't mean it that way-'

'I'm sorry we were such a burden on your time,' she said, voice rising. 'Perhaps if you'd stayed at home with your damn dragons all this wouldn't have happened. And perhaps if we weren't The Raven I could be where I belong. At my daughter's graveside.'

'It was no burden, Erienne,' said Hirad. 'You know that.'

'Let's just leave it, shall we?' said The Unknown. 'We're here because we're The Raven and Ilkar asked us. It's how we've always done things and how we always will. Choice does not necessarily enter into it.'

'Well, don't tell me that, tell him.' Hirad pointed at Denser.

'Grow up, Hirad, for Gods' sake.'

'I'm not the one complaining about choice or the lack of it, Xetesk man,' said Hirad. 'In case you hadn't noticed, none of us is exactly comfortable here but you don't hear us making smart remarks. Just deal with it.'

'What the hell have we come here for anyway?' asked Denser. 'Ysundeneth was full of mages.'

'Yes, Denser, busy ones,' said Ilkar. 'And I know none of them. I thought I'd explained that I had to go to my home village to start. Find contacts, establish a line. You have to understand how it works over here. Nailing up a sign offering money to lapsed elven mages won't work.'

Denser slapped at an insect that had settled on his hand. 'One more bite,' he muttered.

'Want me to show you all mine?' Hirad stood up.

'Hirad, enough.'

'No, Unknown, you know what he's doing. It's bloody typical,' said Hirad, feeling his muscles tense. 'When he needs us to find his daughter it's fine. When the position's reversed he'll go on letting us know it's all done under sufferance. Why can't you just do something for someone else for a change, eh?'

'For a change?' Denser gaped.

'Denser, please,' said Erienne, laying a hand on his arm. He ignored her.

'Who was it cast Dawnthief to save us from the Wytch Lords, eh? Who was it defied the Lord of the Mount to get The Unknown back from his Protector calling? Who was it lay with you and Ilkar to keep you both alive when you – you, Hirad Coldheart – were dying?'

'That's what being in The Raven is all about,' said Hirad calmly. 'Those are great things you did, Denser, and I'll love you for ever for doing them. But this is now. And I don't want to hear you bleating about how difficult it is for you.'

'Don't patronise me, Hirad.'

'Did you have anything better to do with your time?' snapped Hirad. 'Aside from sunbathing and gardening?'

'Stop it! Stop it!' yelled Erienne, surging to her feet, hands about her head. 'How dare you bring my child's grave into your infantile row! I came here to try and forget, don't you understand? Not for The Raven. For me. When will you let me start?'

She turned and ran from the camp, Denser making to follow her. Before she'd got five yards she ran into the hulking form of Thraun, who dropped his huge bundle of wood and caught her round the waist in one arm.

'Let me go, Thraun.'

The shapechanger just shook his head. He traced a hand down the side of her face and looked very deeply into her eyes.

'Not forget, Erienne,' he said, his voice rusty, gruff and croaking. 'Grieve. Live. Not forget.'