Ilse Witch

18

Bek Rowe woke the following morning to sunshine and blue skies and no sign of Quentin Leah. He took a moment to orient himself, decided he was still in Arborlon, and jumped out of bed to dress. When he checked the adjoining bedrooms, he found that Panax was missing as well. A quick glance out the window revealed the sun at midmorning height, a clear indicator of how late he had slept. There was grain cereal, cheese, and milk on the table in the anteroom, and he wolfed them down hungrily before charging out the door in search of his friends.

He was running so fast and so hard he ran right into the black-cloaked figure coming in.

“Walker!” he gasped in shock and embarrassment, and jumped back quickly.

“Good morning, Bek Rowe,” the Druid said formally. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Did you sleep well?”

“Too well,” Bek answered, chagrined. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a layabout—”

“Please, young traveler, don’t be so anxious to apologize.” Walker was chuckling softly now. He put his big hand on Bek’s shoulder. “You haven’t missed anything. Nor have you neglected any obligations. You were right to sleep. That was a long journey up to Depo Bent and then west to here. I would rather have you rested when we set out from here.”

Bek sighed. “I guess I just assumed that since Quentin and Panax are already up and gone I was lagging in some way.”

Walker shook his head. “I passed the Highlander on my way here. He had just gotten up. Panax rose a little earlier, but he doesn’t sleep much. Don’t think on it again. Did you eat?”

Bek nodded.

“Then you’re ready to go out to the airfield and have a look around. Come with me.”

They left the sleeping quarters and walked through the palace grounds, moving away from the city and out toward the south end of the Carolan. They passed any number of Elven Hunters and Home Guard on the way, but few regular citizens. No one paid them any attention. It was quieter where they walked than in the main sections of the city, less traveled by those who lived and worked there. On the backside of the Gardens of Life, they passed a pair of Black Watch guarding one of the entrances. The pair stood as if frozen, towering over everyone in their sleek black uniforms and tall hats, everything smooth and clean and trimmed in red. Within the gardens, birds darted and sang, and butterflies flitted from bush to bush, as bright as the flowers they touched upon, but the Black Watch might have been carved from stone.

Somewhere deep in the center of those gardens was the legendary Ellcrys. Even Bek, who had traveled so little, knew her story. The Ellcrys was a tree imbued with magic that formed a Forbidding to shut away the demons banished by the Word from the Faerie world centuries ago at the beginning of life. She had begun her life as an Elf, a member of an order called Chosen, and had transformed into the tree as a result of exposure to the Bloodfire. So long as she remained strong and healthy in her changed state, her magic would keep the Forbidding in place. When she began to fail, as she one day must, another would take her place. The need for replacement did not happen often; the Ellcrys on average lived for a thousand years. But the order of the Chosen was kept filled and ready even so. Once, not so long ago, almost all had been slaughtered by demons that had escaped a weakened Forbidding. Only one had survived, a young Elessedil girl named Amberle, and she had sacrificed herself to become the present Ellcrys.

Bek thought of how Coran had told him that story when he was still very little. Coran had told him any number of Elven stories, and it had always seemed to Bek that the history of the Elves must be more colorful and interesting than those of the other races, even without knowing what they were. Seeing the Gardens of Life now and having passed through the Valley of Rhenn earlier, a visitor at last to the city of Arborlon, he could believe it was so. Everything had a feeling of magic and enchantment, and all that history imparted to him by Coran felt newly alive and real.

It made him think that coming on the journey was not such a bad idea after all, though he would never admit it to Quentin.

“Did Truls Rohk arrive?” he asked Walker suddenly.

Walker did not look at him. “Did you ask him to come?”

Bek nodded. “Yes.”

“Did he say he would?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’s here.”

Walker seemed perfectly willing to accept the shape-shifter’s presence on faith, so Bek let the matter drop. It wasn’t his concern in any case. Another encounter with Truls Rohk could wait. Walker had already moved on, talking about their plans for departure on the following morning, the airship fitted and supplied, its crew and passengers assembled, and everything in readiness for their journey. He was confident and relaxed as he detailed their preparations, but when Bek glanced over, he caught a distant look in the other’s dark eyes that suggested his thoughts were somewhere else.

Away from the buildings of the city, the Gardens of Life, and the Carolan, they passed down a well-traveled road through woods that opened onto a bluff farther south. Bek could hear the activity before he could see it, and when they emerged from the trees, an airfield and a dozen Elven airships were visible. Bek had never seen airships up close, only flying over the highlands now and then, but there was no mistaking them for anything other than what they were. They hung motionless above the earth as if cradled by the air on which they floated, tethered like captured birds to anchoring pins. From the ground they looked much bigger, particularly from where Bek stood looking up at them. Broad stretches of decking, single and multilevel, were fastened to pontoons fitted out and armored as fighting stations. On some of the airships, cabins and steering lofts were affixed aft; on others, they were settled amidships. Various forms of housing could be found both atop and beneath the decking. Single, double, and triple masts speared the clear blue sky.

“There’s our vessel, Bek,” Walker announced softly, his voice gone distant and soft.

Even without being told, Bek knew which of the airships the Druid was talking about. The ship in question was so different from the others that his eyes were drawn to it immediately. Its profile was low and sleek, and while it did not appear less formidable as a fighting vessel, it had a look of quickness and maneuverability that the others lacked. Its twin masts were raked and its cabins were recessed deep into the decking both fore and aft, adding to the long, smooth look. Its elevated pilot box sat amidships between the masts. Several sets of fighting ports were built into the pontoons, which curved upward at both ends like horns and were fashioned as battering rams. Other sets of fighting ports were integrated into the deck railings, which were slanted inward to provide maximum protection against attack. The airship had a dark and wicked look to it, even at rest, and a shiver went down Bek’s spine as he imagined it in motion.

Men were swarming all over its decking, some working on sails and lines, some carrying aboard supplies and equipment. On this morning, it was the center of activity, with preparations for its voyage long since under way.

“If you wait here, I’ll send someone over to put you to work,” Walker said. Without waiting for a response, he moved away.

Bek stood looking at the shadowy form of the airship, trying without success to imagine what it would feel like to fly in her, to have this strange vessel as his home. He knew a journey of the sort they were planning would take weeks and probably months. All that time, they would live and travel aboard this ship. Thirty men and women, confined in a small, constantly moving wood-and-iron shell, adrift in the world. It was a sobering image.

“She’s a striking lady, isn’t she,” a voice broke into his thoughts.

He glanced over as the speaker came up to him, a tall man with long red hair and clear green eyes and dressed in a wild combination of black leather and bright scarves. “She is,” Bek agreed.

“You’d be Bek Rowe?” the man inquired with a grin, his manner open and friendly and immediately disarming. Bek nodded. “I’m this lady’s Captain. Redden Alt Mer.” He stuck out his hand in greeting, and Bek took it. “You’re to be my cabin boy, Bek. You can call me Captain or sir. Or you can call me Big Red, like nearly everyone else does. Have you sailed before?”

Bek shook his head. “Not really. On the Rainbow Lake once or twice and on rivers and streams in the Highlands.”

The tall man laughed. “Goodness, they’ve given me a cabin boy with no sea legs at all! No experience on open water or free air either, Bek? What am I to do with you?”

Bek grimaced. “Hope for the best?”

“No, no, no, we can’t be relying on hope to see you through.” He grinned anew. “Are you a quick study?”

“I think so.”

“Good, that will help our cause. This morning is all I’ve got to teach you what I know before we set out, so we must make the most of it. You know about airships, do you?”

“A little.” Bek was feeling foolish and slow, but the tall man was not unkind or intimidating.

“You’ll know everything by the time I’m done.” He paused. “A few words of advice to begin with, Bek. I’m a Rover, so you know two things right off. One, I’ve forgotten more about airships than other men have learned, and with the crew of Rovers I’ve chosen to serve under me, I can see us through anything. So don’t ever question or doubt me. Second, don’t ever say anything bad about Rovers—not even if you think I can’t hear you.”

He waited for Bek to answer, so Bek said, “No, sir.”

“Good. Now here’s the really important thing to remember.” The cheerful face took on a serious, almost contemplative cast. “The Druid’s in charge of this expedition, so I am obliged to respect his wishes and obey his orders save where the safety of the ship and crew are concerned. He’s ordered me to take you on as cabin boy. That’s fine. But you and I need to understand each other. The Druid intends you to serve as his eyes and ears aboard ship. He wants you to watch everyone and everything, me included. That’s fine, too. I expect you can do this and do it well. But I don’t want you thinking I don’t know why you’re really here. Fair enough?”

Bek flushed. “I’m not a spy.”

“Did I say you were? Did I suggest that you were anything of the sort?” The Rover shook his head reprovingly. “Smart lads keep their eyes and ears open in any case. I don’t begrudge any man that advantage. My purpose in bringing this up is to make sure you understand that as clever as the Druid thinks he is, he’s no more clever than I am. I wouldn’t want you to make a foolish assumption about your Captain.”

Bek nodded. “Me either.”

“Good lad!” Redden Alt Mer seemed genuinely pleased. “Now let’s put all that behind us and begin our lessons. Come with me.”

He took Bek over to the airship and had him climb the rope ladder to the decking. There, standing amidships with the boy, he began a step-by-step explanation of the ship’s operation. The sails were called light sheaths. Their function was to gather light, either direct or ambient, from the skies for conversion to energy. Light could be drawn from any source, day or night. Direct light was best, but frequently it was not to be found, so the availability and usefulness of ambient light was the key to an airship’s survival. Light energy gathered by the sheaths was relayed by lines called radian draws. The draws took the heat down to the decking and into containers called parse tubes, which housed diapson crystals. The crystals, when properly prepared by craftsmen, received and converted the light energy to the energy that propelled and steered the airship. Hooding and unhooding the crystals determined the amount of thrust and direction the airship took.

Redden Alt Mer had Bek repeat all this back when he was finished, word for word. Intrigued by the process and interested to learn everything about how it worked, the boy did so faultlessly. The Rover was pleased. Understanding the principles of airship flight was crucial to learning how to operate her. But it took years to learn how to fly an airship properly, as the Federation pilots had not yet discovered. The nuances of hooding and unhooding the crystals, of riding and sideslipping wind currents, and of avoiding downdrafts and light-falls that could change the momentum and responsiveness of an airship in an instant were not easily mastered. Rovers were the best pilots, he offered without a trace of boasting. Rovers were born to the free life, and they adapted and understood flight better than other men.

Or women, a tall, red-haired woman who might have been his twin offered pointedly, coming up beside them. Redden Alt Mer only barely managed to salvage his gaffe by introducing his sister, Rue Meridian, as the best airship pilot he had ever known and a better fighter than any man he had flown with. Rue Meridian, with her striking looks and flaming hair, her confident, no-nonsense attitude, and her smiling eyes and ready laugh, made Bek feel shy and awkward. But she made him feel good, too. She did not challenge him as her brother had done or question his presence in any way. She simply told him she was glad to have him aboard. Still, there was an iron core to her that Bek did not misjudge, a kind of redoubt beneath the cheerful facade that he suspected he did not want to come up against.

She chatted with them for a few minutes more, then left to oversee the loading of the vessel. Her departure left a void in Bek that was tangible and startling.

With Redden Alt Mer leading, they continued to walk the airship end to end, the Rover explaining what everything was as they went. Each time he finished an explanation, he made Bek repeat it back to him. Each time, he seemed satisfied with the answer he received. He explained the pilot box and the connectors that ran to the parse tubes, hoods, rudders, and main draws. For the most part, the crew raised and lowered the sheaths and set the draws, but in an emergency, everything could be controlled from the pilot box. There were anchors and stays for landing. There were weapons of all sorts, some handheld, some attached to the decking of the ship. The Rover took Bek into the sleeping quarters and supply bins. He took the boy all the way up the pegged climbing steps of the masts to see how the sheaths were attached to the draws, then down to the parse tubes to see how the draws were attached to the diapson crystals. He was quick with his explanations, but thorough. He seemed intent on the boy’s learning, and Bek was eager to comply.

There was only one component of the airship that the Rover avoided assiduously, a large rectangular box set upright against the foremast in front of the pilot box. It was covered with black canvas and lashed to the mast and decking with a strange type of metal-sheathed cable. They walked right by it repeatedly, and after they had done so for about the third or fourth time, Bek could contain himself no longer.

“Captain, what’s under the canvas?” he asked, pointing at the box.

The Rover scratched his head. “I don’t know. It belongs to the Druid. He had it brought aboard in the dead of night without my knowing two days ago, and when I found it there, he told me it was necessary that we take it with us, but he couldn’t tell me what it was.”

Bek stared at it. “Has anyone tried to get a look under the canvas?”

The Rover laughed. “A lad after my own heart! Shades, Bek Rowe, but you are a wonder! Of course, we tried! Several of us!” He paused dramatically. “Want to know what happened?”

Bek nodded.

“Try looking for yourself and see.”

Bek hesitated, no longer so eager.

“Go on,” the other urged, gesturing, “it won’t hurt you.”

So Bek reached for the canvas, and when his hand got to within a foot of it, lines of thin green fire began to dance all over the cables that lashed the box in place, jumping from cable to cable, a nest of writhing snakes. Bek jerked his hand back quickly.

Redden Alt Mer chuckled. “That was our decision, as well. A Druid’s magic is nothing to trifle with.”

His instruction of Bek continued as if nothing had happened. After Bek had been aboard for a time and his initial excitement had died down, he became aware of a movement to the airship that had not been apparent before, a gentle swaying, a tugging against the anchoring lines. There was no apparent wind, the day calm and still, and there was no movement from the other ships that might account for the motion. When Bek finally asked about it, Redden Alt Mer told him it was the natural response of the ship to the absorption of light into their sheaths. The converted energy kept her aloft, and it was only the anchor cables that kept her from floating away completely, because her natural inclination was to take flight. The Rover admitted that he had been flying for so long that he didn’t notice the motion himself anymore.

Bek thought it gave the airship the feel of being alive, of having an existence independent of the men and women who rode her. It was a strange sensation, but the longer he stayed aboard, the more he felt it. The ship moved like a great cat stirring out of sleep, lazy and unhurried, coming slowly awake. The motion radiated through the decking and into his body, so that he soon became a part of it, and it had something of the feel of floating in water that was still and untroubled.

Redden Alt Mer finished with him at midday and sent him off to help inventory supplies and equipment with a bluff, burly fellow Rover called Furl Hawken. The Rover everyone called Hawk barely gave him a second glance, but was friendly enough and pleased at his quickness in picking up the instructions he was given. Once or twice, Rue Meridian came by, and every time Bek was mesmerized.

“She affects everyone that way,” Furl Hawken observed with a grin, catching the look on his face. “Little Red will break your heart just by looking at you. Too bad it’s wasted effort.”

Bek wanted to ask what he meant but was too embarrassed to pursue the matter, so he let it drop.

By the end of the day, Bek had learned most of what there was to know about the operation of their airship, the components that drove her, and the nature of the supplies and equipment she would be carrying. He had met most of the crew as well, including the ship’s builder, a truly frightening Rover named Spanner Frew, who yelled and cursed at everyone in general and looked ready to knock down anyone who dared question him. He acknowledged Bek with a grunt and afterwards ignored him completely. Bek was just as happy.

He was on his way back across the airfield with the sun at his back when Quentin caught up with him.

“Did you go aboard the ship?” he asked eagerly, falling into step with his cousin. He was sweating through his rumpled, stained clothes. His long hair was matted, and the skin of his hands and forearms was cut and bruised.

“I’ve hardly been off the ship,” Bek said. He gave the other a smirk. “What have you been doing, wrestling bears?”

Quentin laughed. “No, Walker ordered me to train with the Elven Hunters. Ard Patrinell worked with me all day. He knocked me down so many times and skinned me up so many different ways that all I can think about is how little I know.” He reached back for his sword. “This thing’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Bek.”

Bek grinned mischievously. “Well, it’s probably only as good as its bearer, Quentin. Anyway, count your blessings. I spent all day learning how much I don’t know about airships and flying. I’d be willing to bet that there’s a lot more I don’t know about flying than you don’t know about fighting.”

Quentin laughed and shoved him playfully, and they joked and teased each other all the way back to the palace compound as the last of the sunlight disappeared below the horizon and the twilight began to shadow the land. With the setting of the sun, a stillness enveloped the city as her people drifted homeward and the bustle and clamor of traffic faded away. In the woods through which the cousins passed close by the palace grounds and parks, the only sounds were of voices, indistinct and distant, carried in the silence from other places.

They were approaching the pathway that led to their sleeping quarters when Bek said quietly, “Quentin? What do you think we’re really doing here?”

They stopped, and his cousin looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Bek put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Think about it. Why are we here? Why us, with all these others that Walker’s chosen?”

“Because Walker thinks we—”

“I know what Walker told us.” Bek cut him short impatiently. “He told us he wanted two young, clever fellows to share his thoughts. He told us he wanted you for your magic sword and me for my keen eyes and ears or some such thing. I know what he said, and I’ve been trying to make myself believe it since we set out. But I don’t. I don’t believe it at all.”

Quentin nodded matter-of-factly, unperturbed. Sometimes Bek just wanted to throttle him. “Are you listening to me?” he snapped.

His cousin nodded. “Sure. You don’t believe Walker. Why not?”

“Because, Quentin, it just doesn’t feel right.” Bek emphasized his words with chopping gestures. “Everyone selected for this expedition has years of experience exploring and fighting. They’ve been all over the Four Lands, and they know how to deal with all sorts of trouble. What do we know? Nothing. Why take two inexperienced nobodies like us?”

“He’s taking Ahren Elessedil,” Quentin offered. “And what about the seer? Ryer Ord Star? She doesn’t look very strong.”

Bek nodded impatiently. “I’m not talking about strength alone. I’m talking about skill and experience and talent. I’m talking about purpose! What’s ours? We’ve just spent the entire day training, for goodness’ sake! Did you see anyone else training for this trip? Are you really the only one Walker could turn to who could back him up with magic? In all the Four Lands, the only one? Given what happened in the Wolfsktaag, how much use do you think you would be to him at this point? Be honest!”

Quentin was quiet a moment. “Not much,” he admitted grudgingly, and for the first time a hint of doubt crept into his voice.

“What about me?” Bek pursued his argument with a vengeance. “Am I the only clever pair of eyes and ears he can call on? Am I really that useful to him that he would drop several Elven Hunters with years of experience and training behind them and a skilled Healer, as well? Are you and I all that wondrous that he just can’t afford to leave us behind, even though we know he’s pressed for space?”

They stared at each other in the growing dark without speaking, eyes locked. Somewhere in the compound ahead, a door slammed and a voice called out a name.

Quentin shook his head. “What are you saying, Bek?” he asked softly. “That we shouldn’t go? That we should give this whole business up?”

Oddly enough, that wasn’t his intent. It might have been a logical suggestion, given his arguments and conclusions. It might have been what another man would have done under the circumstances, but Bek Rowe had decided he would make the voyage. He was committed. He was as determined to go as Quentin was. Maybe it had something to do with the secrets he had discovered since Walker had appeared to them in the Highlands—of his father’s identity and his own origins, of the King of the Silver River and the phoenix stone, of Truls Rohk and his cryptic warning not to trust anyone. Maybe it was just that he was too stubborn to quit when so many would know and judge him accordingly. Maybe it was his belief that he was meant to make the journey, whatever his fears or doubts, because going would determine in some important and immutable way the course of his life.

A small voice of reason still whispered that he should tell Quentin, Yes, we should give this business up and go home. He squelched that voice with barely a second’s thought.

“What I’m saying,” he replied instead, “is that we should be careful about what we accept at face value. Druids keep secrets and play games with ordinary men like you and me. That’s their history and tradition. They manipulate and deceive. They are tricksters, Quentin. I don’t know about Walker. I don’t know much of anything about what he really intends for us. I just think we ought to be very careful. I think we …”

He ran out of words and stood there, looking at his cousin helplessly.

“You think we ought to look out for each other,” Quentin finished, nodding slowly. “We always have, haven’t we?”

Bek sighed. “But maybe we need to do more of it here. And when something doesn’t sit right, like this business, I think we have to tell each other so. If we don’t, Quentin, who will?”

“Maybe no one.”

“Maybe not.”

Quentin studied him in silence once more, then smiled suddenly. “You know what, Bek? If you hadn’t agreed to come on this journey, I wouldn’t have come either.”

Bek stared at him in surprise. “Really?”

Quentin nodded. “Because of what you’ve just said. There isn’t anyone else I would trust to watch my back or tell me the truth about things. Only you. You think I look at you like a bothersome younger brother that I let tag along because I have to. I don’t. I want you with me. I’m bigger and stronger, sure. And I’m better at some things than you. But you have a gift for figuring things out that I don’t. You get at the truth in a way I can’t. You see things I don’t even notice.”

He paused. “What I’m trying to say is that I think of us as equals as well as brothers. I pay pretty close attention to how you feel about things, whether you realize it or not. That’s the way it’s always been. That’s the way it will be here. I won’t accept anything I’m told without talking it over with you. You don’t have to ask me to do that. I’d do it anyway.”

Bek felt awkward and foolish. “I guess I just needed to say what I was thinking out loud.”

Quentin grinned. “Well, who knows? Maybe I needed to hear you say it, too. Now it’s done. Let’s go eat.”

They went inside then, and for the rest of the night until he fell asleep Bek found himself thinking how close he was to Quentin—as a brother, a friend, and a confidant—closer than he was to anyone in the world. They had shared everything growing up, and he could not imagine it being any other way. He made a promise to himself then, the sort of promise he hadn’t made since he was a small boy filled with the sort of resolve that age tempered and time wore down. He did not know where they were going or what they would encounter in the days ahead, Quentin and he, but whatever happened he would find a way to keep his brother safe.