Oasis
Part One: Recognition
Aballan turned his head towards the sunrise. The land east of their camp was parched and broken into great fissures. Small earthquakes rippled through camp every few days, and the fissures seemed to move constantly.
“This is an evil place,” Tagon, the chief hunter of their clan, complained. “We are in Manach’s land, and he does not suffer fools gladly.”
Aballan held firm. They were poised on the western edge of the great Mountains of the Sun. To the north lay parched sands of the barren waste. To the south lay the badlands and more desert. To the east lay the highest peaks, the birthplace of the sun. The birthplace of Manach.
The tremors frightened them all, even dear Tarach, his shaman’s apprentice. But Aballan held to his course. It had been three years since the eclipse had given him the idea of a great trade route spanning the desert. In three years they had slowly migrated from the badlands of their ancestors to the Mountains of the Sun. Kassa and his horse-messengers had found a safe passage that crossed the northern desert in a mere two days. Already they had cut the trade route from west to east down from five months to twenty days. But Aballan was not satisfied. Not while Tagon continued to announce loudly that the game was poor where they camped. Not while the people listened to his blustering complaints.
Aballan’s legs ached and his heart struggled to keep with his body. But he could not die yet. Not until Tarach’s position as shaman was assured. Not until Tagon and the hunters had been silenced once and for all.
“I like not these tremors, Master,” Tarach sighed one morning. “Do you think Manach is trying to tell us something.”
Aballan scoffed. “This trade route will bring prosperity to the Red Rock Clan for a hundred generations. What are a few tremors to us?”
“But... if it is a sign?”
“Tarach, you must listen to your heart, not to the whispers of the rabble.” Aballan closed his eyes. “I know in my heart that Manach wishes us to prosper. No, the tremors are not signs of his displeasure. They are a test. Are we such cowards that we flee at a little discomfort? No. We are Manach’s Chosen. We will prevail. We will prove ourselves to our god.”
Tarach nodded. Yes, that did make a much more pleasing explanation.
Three shadows crouched among the rocks, and three pairs of eyes watched the humans warily.
**Curse it,** Windkin growled.
**What did they say?** Grayling asked.
**I can’t piece it all together. But enough that I can tell they aren’t leaving. The fat one there – he said the ground-quakes are a test of their will. Their devotion to their god.**
Ahdri grit her teeth. **I could make the quakes most intense. Collapse a few of their tents. Maybe even kill one or two of the males. Should I, Grayling?**
**No, not yet. I have to think about this.**
**We could always make up a little costume of hides and moth-fabric and give them a message from their “Man-ak’ himself. Or is herself?**
**You’d better make sure of that, lifemate,** Ahdri chuckled softly.
Grayling sat back on his haunches. **Ahdri... where are they getting their water from?**
Ahdri closed her eyes and touched the rocky ground. **There’s a great deal of water locked underground. They dig a hole in the sand until they reach the water. A crude well.**
**Can you... lower the level of the groundwater? Don’t dry the well up, but take it down just enough to make them work all the more harder?**
Ahdri nodded. **Easily done.** She shifted her fingers on the rock and bent her head. Another gentle tremor laced under their feet. **There. It’s dropped by an elf’s height.** She smiled as she opened her eyes. **They’ll have to dig almost twice as deep to get clean water.**
**Good. Above all, we can’t expose ourselves. Bearclaw taught me that lesson back in Father Tree. They can never see us, never put a face to their misery. But if they believe it’s simply the hardships of the desert they might return to their homelands. Come on, let’s get back to the village.**
They got up from their hiding place and disappeared into the pre-dawn shadows.
Three days later the scouts were back in Sorrow’s End with no real developments to report. The humans were still camped within few days’ travel. They still refused to leave not matter what hardships Ahdri engineered into the rocks. The elves could only wait and see what would happen.
The training of the Sun Folk was progressing well. Ember and Teir had returned to the New Land and the Wild Hunt, but Sust and Coppersky remained to help Grayling with his lessons. An uneasy truce existed between the jackwolves and Sust’s tuftcats, who kept to separate dens in the caves.
Grayling paced down the line of prospective archers. Ember’s mother Behtia was showing great promise with the bow. Shashen balanced his long dart into his atlatl, trying to line up his sights. Maleen bit her lip and drew her bow-arm back while her lifemate Ruffel giggled and clapped her hands. Grayling seized her firmly by the shoulders and set her on the sidelines, out of the way.
He passed potters- and farmers-turned-warriors to the end of the line, where Alekah the loomworker struggled to line her sights. Grayling sighed. She was the most devoted of the lot, but she simply didn’t have a natural ability for archery. But somewhere along the course of training, Alekah decided she wanted to master the bow, and Grayling could hardly refuse a pupil who arrived at lessons so promptly everyday.
“Here,” Grayling reached his arms about her shoulders to realign her posture. “Let your body help you. If your shoulders and feet are in line, your eyes will follow naturally.”
She nodded and allowed him to reposition her limbs. “Now... hold your left arm up like this... no, don’t hold it too rigidly. Too tense is worse than too loose.” He turned her shoulders again. “There. Now take a deep breath. Think of your whole body as a line straight to the target. Now draw your arm back, no, don’t pull the bowstring sharply. A smooth motion. There. Now, don’t give the cord a ‘twang’ when you release. But don’t mother it either. A quick release. Don’t overthink – you always overthink your motions.”
“I’m trying to keep–” she began.
“Now!”
Alekah released the bowstring. The arrow flew perfectly to the battered quiver tree, scoring a solid shot.
“There you are,” Grayling smiled.
Alekah turned in his arms to smile up at her teacher.
The sun seemed to strike her golden-brown eyes at a sharp angle, setting them aglow.
No... now it seemed her entire body was alight, wreathed in a softly pulsing aura.
Grayling felt all the air rush out of his lungs, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
Alekah pressed up against his chest and he could feel her heart racing against his breastbone. Or was it his own heart, beating in time?
**Kel?**
Her sending was so strong, it almost knocked him over. He felt torn, his mental defenses shredded by one cleanly-shot arrow.
**Alekah?**
Strange, he had never realized what power that simple name held...
**Kel...**
“Uh... here, let’s work over here, away from the crowd,” Grayling stammered, disentangling himself from her. “Now, you’ll have to learn to do this under pressure eventually, you know. But I think... over here.” He hustled Alekah away from the line of students.
Maleen giggled. “Lucky Alekah.”
Ruffel slapped her shoulder affectionately.
**Kel... what–?** Alekah began as Grayling once again firmly set her arms in a shooter’s posture.
“All right, I want you to line up against that squatneedle over there.” In sending he hissed: **Don’t say a word. Tongues will wag soon enough.**
**Kel... this... this can’t be.** She fought tears from welling in her tears. **I have a lifemate!**
**And so have I. But Recognition is Recognition. It’s not about us, it’s about the cub waiting to be born.**
**What... what do we do?**
“No, shoulders square. Hold your head straight.” **You have to talk to Jari. And I have to talk to Hansha. We’ll meet at your hut at sundown... and we’ll figure out how to make this work.**
“Like... like this?” Alekah tried to assume the correct stance. But her muscles were locked tight.
**Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,** Grayling warned, a little more harshly than he had intended. **No one can know of this, not until we’ve settled everything.**
Alekah nodded.
“All right, you’re too tense,” Grayling said loud enough for others to overhear. “Did you pull this muscle?”
Alekah caught on quickly. “I thought it was just strained.”
“No, you’re not doing yourself any good coming out here with a pulled bow-arm. Good work today, but you need to go see the healer and get it patched up.”
“I think I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”
“I know what you mean. This sun is getting to me. All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home and rest.”
“Thank you, Grayling.” Alekah handed him the bow and turned to leave. She almost bolted, but she restrained herself to a purposeful walk.
She was so disciplined... he had always admired that.
He found his eyes lingering on the smooth lines of her body as she retreated. The slight swing of her hips and the lithe muscles that worked under her soft skin seemed to beckon him to follow.
Her skin was so warm...
He staggered, raising a hand to his temple. Revulsion overcame him. When had he ever wanted to feel such desire for a maiden – for any elf but his lifemate? But now all he saw when he closed his eyes was Alekah. Her owl-eyes haunted him.
“Grayling?” Halek called. “Are you well?”
“Nhh, curse it. Actually I think I’m getting a touch of sunstroke.”
“You’ve been out all morning, chief. Take a rest. I’ll take over.”
“My thanks,” Grayling said as he limped away from the training area.
He overheard Ruffel whisper: “Mm, holding a maiden in his arms always makes him go white, eh?”
“Quite allergic,” Maleen shot back.
Grayling kept a measured pace until he was out of sight of the archers. Then he hastened down the path to his hut. He had to see Hansha. Everything would make sense once he saw his lifemate again.
He found Hansha in their herb garden, collecting several sprigs of a sweet-smelling plant. He used all manner of aromatics in his forges to temper the smell and heat of metalworking.
“Hansha!” Grayling cried. Hansha straightened and turned just as Grayling crushed him in a hug.
“Grayling?” Hansha stammered as Grayling held him close. He felt his lifemate’s hot tears on his neck. **Kel? What is it? What’s happened?**
Grayling straightened, touched his forehead to Hansha’s. He summoned a bittersweet smile. “The best and worst thing that could ever happen to us.”
Hansha’s eyes widened. Immediately he understood.
“Who?”
“Alekah.”
“Alekah? But she has a lifemate.”
“Mh. It should make things easier.”
“What... what do we do?”
“We’re going to meet her and Jari at sundown. We’ll... settle things properly... about us and about the cub, before we do anything.”
“A child...” Hansha’s eyes lit up. He almost smiled.
“What’s it like... Recognition?” he asked.
Grayling shook his head. “It’s... it’s like overripe dreamberries, just as Swift said. My head is spinning. To know yourself, to think you know yourself – and to have another soul suddenly there...” He cupped Hansha’s face in his hands. “Not a soul I chose to let in, but one that forced its way in... painful. And at the same time... to have that invader suddenly tear open a part of yourself you never knew existed. It’s... beyond words. Beyond joy and sorrow.”
“And Alekah?”
“Ohhh... I want her,” Grayling confessed. “She’s... lit a fever in me. I’m sick to death and I know I won’t feel safe until I have her. But she’s not my lifemate,” he added, before Hansha’s heart could sink. “And she’ll never be. My green eyes,” he stroked Hansha’s cheek. “She’s a fever that will pass. And when I wake up, all I’ll see will be you. And the child we’ll have. You and me.”
Hansha hugged him tightly.
Alekah and Jari were waiting for them as the sun slowly dropped behind the desert’s edge. Their hut was decorated with the many tapestries Alekah had woven on her great loom. Jari sat next to his lifemate, his hand on hers protectively. The red-haired farmer eyed the two newcomers with suspicion and fear. Grayling remembered his face from those first days in Sorrow’s End. He had always kept to the background, averting his eyes from any passing Wolfrider. Whether out of distrust or shyness, Grayling had never decided. Yet now his gaze was steady, accusing.
“Sit down,” Alekah said, trying to sound welcoming.
Grayling and Hansha sat down on the mats across from them. “Before we say anything more, I’d like to make a few things clear,” Grayling said. He reached out and took Hansha’s hand. “I have no wish to be lifemated – or even lovemated to Alekah. I’ve made it no secret that I’ve never had any of those feelings for maidens, and Recognition hasn’t changed that. When this is all over, I want to think of Alekah has the mother of my child, nothing more. Brother and sister, if you will. As for the child that’s waiting for us – well, Hansha and I have been lifemates for eight-eights times eight, and our desire for a child is no secret either. And I do intend to be a father to our child, and I intend Hansha to be the child’s father too. And that is what I want out of this Recognition.”
“Well said, Grayling,” Alekah said coolly. “But now it is my turn. Jari and I have not been mated as long as you and Hansha, but our love is just as strong as yours, and I haven’t the slightest desire to lose my lifemate. I’ve always respected and admired you, Grayling. And I hope in term a genuine love can develop between the four of us. But Jari and I have long wanted a child of our own as well. And if you expect me to relinquish my child to you, then you are going to be sorely disappointed.”
Grayling chuckled. “Well, we’re in agreement, then. They’ll be no four-matings, and we all want to play a part in raising the child.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Jari asked.
“We raise the child together,” Grayling said. “Three fathers and a mother. We can have a great hut built in which to all live, or if we can’t stand each other that well, then I’ll have new hut for Hansha and me built right next to yours.”
Alekah glanced at Jari. “Sounds... a little too simple,” he said at length.
“It’s going to be madness,” Hansha cut in. “But we’ll figure out some order to it. We’ll have to.”
“We can either be enemies, two tribes forced together against our will. Or we can be allies... and family,” Grayling said.
Hansha grew grave again. “You two could always hope for Recognition together. Grayling and I never had those dreams. We had to make new plans, plans that include more than two parents and one child.”
Alekah moaned and rubbed her forehead. “It would be so simpler if...”
“‘If’ is gone now,” Grayling said.
Alekah sat up straighter. “So... if we were to all live together, share raising of the child... I take it when it came to disputes about childrearing, the birth parents would have the final say.”
“No,” Grayling said firmly, surprising her. “No. All four of us would have equal say. Mother, sire, fathers – all would be as one. The moment we teach our child that blood matters more than love, we make Jari and Hansha less than family.”
“And if Jari and I take one stand, and you and Hansha take another?”
“Then we’ll solve our differences as any parents solve quarrels: with patience and gentleness. Failing that, we’ll appeal to Savah or Sun-Toucher for guidance. How does that strike you?”
Jari and Alekah considered it. “It... sounds... fair.”
Grayling risked a kind smile. “I know it’s hard to imagine. All three of you, Jari, Alekah, even you, Hansha: you were all raised by one father, one mother. Recognition worked out well and made a simple straight-forward family. Me... I was raised by a mother who ignored me, a brother who resented me, and a father who was no father. When my sister was born, I became her brother-and-father-both. And Swift will tell you that it worked out just as well that way. We can make this work. We owe it to our child.”
Alekah nodded. “The child comes first.”
Silence fell over the the foursome. At length Jari spoke. “So... I supposed we’re agreed.”
“Aye,” Alekah nodded. “There’s... nothing more to say, really.”
Another awkward moment of silence. Finally Hansha got to his feet. “We’re acting like scared kitlings. We all know what needs to be done. The question is – now? Or do we wait?”
“We?” Alekah stood. “I don’t think you have any part to play in this, Hansha.”
“He’s right,” Grayling said. He glanced at his Recognized. The tension in the air was palpable.
“No point in delaying,” Alekah said. “The sooner begun, the sooner completed.”
Grayling nodded. A humourless smile crossed his face. “Hansha... why don’t you and Jari take a walk around the village?”
Hansha moved to Jari’s side. “Come on, Jari. Let’s get to know each other a little better, hmm?”
“Lifemate?” Jari took Alekah’s hand.
“It’s all right. Go.”
Jari reluctantly left her side. Hansha and Grayling shared one last glance, then Hansha turned and escorted the farmer out into the gathering night.
“I never thought Recognition would be like this,” Alekah said. “I expected nothing but joy.”
Grayling smiled faintly. “I’m... actually a little relieved.”
“Relieved?” she stared at him in horror.
“Part of me... was always afraid Recognition might just be strong enough to lessen what I feel for Hansha. Now... well, it's not so bad, really.”
Alekah held out her hand. He took it. She took a step towards him, and he did not retreat.
A flicker of dread crossed his face, and now it was Alekah’s turn to smile softly.
“You’ve never... with a maiden before, have you?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t bite,” she assured him.
“Are you certain about that?”
She touched his cheek. “I... I don’t know what to make of any of this. I... want to hate you for what you’re doing to me. What I feel right now... my mind racing one way, my body another... and I know which is going to win out. And I should hate you – just... just because it’s you and not Jari!” Tears sprang in her eyes, and she balled her free hand in a fist. “But in the end... you’re going to be father of my child... and–”
Grayling pressed his forehead to hers. “Kel...” she murmured. “You... you’re Kel. And I know you.”
“And I know you, Alekah,” he whispered back, giving her hand a squeeze.
The Palace appeared on the edge of the village not three days after the afternoon when Maleen and Ruffel first started to gossip about Grayling and Alekah. First out of the Palace was Swift, Blood of Ten Chief. She raced across the sand and threw her arms tight about her brother’s neck.
“Now you know the mystery, brother,” she whispered in his ear.
He laughed as he hugged her back. “Your tales never did it justice.”
“How is the new family faring?” she asked as they took a long walk down the familiar paths of the village.
“Family... it’s still a little hard to believe. Quite well, all things considered. Jari’s still a little afraid I’m going to steal Alekah away, and Alekah’s convinced Hansha’s going to steal the cub away the moment it’s born. But it’s been a full two days and we haven’t actually started shouting yet.” He chuckled. “I still can’t believe there’s a little life inside Alekah.”
“A little chief-in-training,” Swift added.
Grayling smiled. “A child. I will have a child. Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited–”
“Oh, yes, I do. Right from the days you were helping Joyleaf raise me, I knew you were practicing for the day you had a cub of your own.”
“And you?” he wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “How do you feel, knowing you’re not the only maiden in my life now?”
“A little... uneasy, I’ll admit,” Swift laughed. “I hope no more than you were when Skywise and I found each other’s souls. But I reckon I shared you with Mother once, so I can share you with Alekah now.”
He kissed her temple. “You’ll always be the first lass in my heart, you know.”
“Mmm, I’ll be an aunt. Someone has to keep you from turning a good Wolfrider cub into a mewling little dirt-digger, eh?”
“Mewling dirt-digger, am I?” Grayling shifted his arm about her throat. “This old wolf may not be sprouting face-fur, but he has fangs enough, I promise you.”
“Glad to hear it. I expect your cub to be the terror of the Sun Village.”
Grayling’s face darkened. “The humans keep coming... passing by on their blasted treks across the desert. Will the village even be here by the time the cub’s born?”
“I’ve been giving your problem a lot of thought. It’s clear you won’t be able to raise a mountain wall around the village in time. Leaving in the Palace is no option, I take it.”
Grayling shook his head.
“Humans came here once before and we drove them away. There were only four of them that time... but perhaps we can do it again. These aren’t the followers of Gotara. Perhaps... perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps if we cannot hide, we can learn to co-exist.”
“I’ve been thinking of that too,” Grayling nodded. “And I’ve got Windkin and Wing watching them, learning their language. The Islanders learned to get along with humans long ago. The Gliders and the Hoan-G’Tay-Sho got along for years... though from what Windkin told me, that hasn’t ended well. And from what Coppersky and Ember have told me, the Plainsrunners are managing to keep one step ahead of the humans in the far north of your new land. I’m not giving up by any means. If we can’t hide, we’ll try for peace. If we can’t have peace... well... I’m not afraid to fight. Leaving Sorrow’s End... that’s the last resort.”
“I know. And Sust and Coppersky are doing a fine job of training your new warriors. If it comes to a fight, I know you’ll be ready. But you weren’t there for the Palace War, Grayling. And even locksending can’t begin to tell you...”
“I won’t have my child born in a world where we must hide ourselves in the ground like trolls!”
“I know, Grayling. But... don’t look for an unwanted war.”
He sighed. “No one wants war less than I, Swift. Especially now. But every day I see those humans passing by in the distance eats at my heart. I cannot bear it some days. Three years of waiting... of preparing for a war that may never come... or that may come tomorrow.”
Swift clasped his hand tightly in hers. “We’re here to help you, Grayling. No elf must ever stand alone anymore.”
* * *
Sun-Toucher stood on the edge of the Bridge of Destiny, his sightless eyes trained on the northwestern horizon.
“Welcome, young Venka,” he said. “And you, Ahdri. Take care, the wind rises with the sun.”
“My footing is firm, Sun-Toucher,” Venka replied. She withdrew a long tube from the folds of her caftan. Holding the tube to her eye, she gazed northward.
“What is that you have there, child?”
“A spyglass, Sun-Toucher. Two pieces of clearstone carefully placed to magnify an elf’s sight.”
“What do you see?” Ahdri asked.
Venka focused the spyglass carefully. “A train of humans wending its way northward. They’re making for the gap in the tall rocks... and the forests of the Everwood beyond. They have pack-animals. No-humps, loaded with supplies. But I cannot see anything more.”
“They come and go. And go and come back,” Ahdri sighed. “What do they want?”
“They’re traders, I think. They move goods back and forth between the badlands far to the west and the forests to the northeast. Like the Plainsrunners move between summer and winter hunting grounds.”
“Do you think they’ll stay where they are?” Ahdri asked.
Venka lowered the spyglass and shook her head. “They are Rootless Ones, as the Sun Folk once were. And they will set down wherever they choose.”
The rockshaper nodded solemnly. “Then Ekuar and I had best continue work on our wall. Perhaps if they reach us... we can convince them to pass us by.”
“We must take the winds as they come,” Sun-Toucher said. “If a storm is coming... we must face it and pass through it.” He stiffened, and it seemed a light flashed in the milky depths of his gray eyes. “We are being watched by ancient eyes.”
Venka turned and looked over her shoulder. Timmain, the High One, was standing on the rocks below, scanning the air as might as a wolf.
“She’s nervous too,” Venka whispered.
“I did not think the High One could be moved,” Ahdri said. “The few times we have crossed paths... she is so calm... as calm as Savah.”
“No, not like Savah. She still has the wolf inside her. Her hackles are up.”
Swift had to return to the Great Holt. The winter floods had come early, she explained, and the Wolfriders were struggling to repair the damage the early rains had done. “They call it summer in the Islands,” she told Grayling. “Storm season. The winds will strike up soon, and we’ll have to den ourselves for the next moon or so. I’m needed. But Venka and Zhantee and Tass are staying to spend time with Zhantee’s parents. You can rely on Venka as my sword-arm.”
Grayling smiled. “I couldn’t ask for better counsel that your daughter.”
As they reached the threshold of the Palace, Swift turned and saw Timmain lingering on the rocks, her long gown fluttering in the breeze. Swift whistled shrilly. “Timmain! You coming?”
**I will stay here as well, and help your daughter watch over the Sun Folk.**
Swift frowned. **This is unexpected. What’s biting you?**
**I smell danger on the wind, child. I will remain here until I find its source.**
Swift heaved a sigh. “All right, Timmain.” She rolled her eyes.
Grayling looked worried and more than a little confused. Swift gave his bicep a friendly punch. “What is it?”
“The High One. You treat her... like she’s a wolf or something.”
Swift shrugged. “She was my wolf. Like as not she’ll decide to be one again.”
A Preserver buzzed about her ears before landing on her shoulder. “Mother-mother highthing staying here?”
“Aye, Petalwing.” Swift had an idea, and smiled. “Petalwing. I need you to stay here. Keep an eye on Timmain.”
“No fuss-muss! Petalwing take good care of mother-mother highthing.”
“You watch her too, Grayling,” Swift whispered. “She’s not like Savah. A mountain’s age as a wolf is a hard habit to break. Ask Venka – she can name all the little creatures’ skins Timmain has tried on since she become an elf again. If you aren’t careful she’ll disappear on you and forget to come back.”
“The Now of Wolf-thought?” Grayling raised an eyebrow.
“A deadly dose of it,” Swift chuckled.
“Well, we know the dangers of that,” he smiled back, touching his forehead to hers.
Swift hugged him goodbye. All too soon she was inside the Palace, and all too soon the Palace disappeared with a burst of light and little “pop.” Petalwing buzzed about Grayling happily.
“Big-busyhead highthing!” it chirped.
“That’s sharpdash highthing,” he corrected.
He looked back at the rocks where he had last seen Timmain. She was gone.
Curious, Grayling hiked up to find her. Instead all he found was her gown and sandals.
He heard heavy panting and a friendly whine of a jackwolf. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a new jackwolf standing among the rocks. Its eyes were bright golden.
“Timmain?”
The jackwolf seemed to nod in reply, then turned and scampered off across the broken landscape. “Now of Wolf-thought...” Grayling murmured to himself.
Ahdri and Ekuar continued work on the wall, and it rose to new heights even as daily tremors set windchimes rattling. Soon it stood a full four human-spans high, and Ekuar carefully weathered the outer edge to make it appear a natural formation. It still looked oddly artificial when seen from outside, but slowly Grayling’s confidence began to grow. A month after the Palace left Sorrow’s End, he felt a renewed optimism.
Venka and Zhantee relaxed in the shade by the training yard, watching the warriors practice. Venka had given up the scanty leathers of the Great Holt for linen caftans, and had freed her hair from her usual snug headbands. Grayling thought the new habit suited her, as did the slight sunburn to her cheeks that betrayed her Wolfrider heritage.
He sat down next the couple. Their daughter Tass was apparently taking archery lessons with young Shashen. But judging by her flowing moth-fabric dress most unsuitable for training – to say nothing of her habit of pressing her back into his chest – Grayling could imagine she wasn’t planning on hunting ravvits.
“I thought she and Shale’s boy... Cricket...”
“Oh, they are,” Venka nodded. “But they also share. Constantly.”
Grayling fought back a laugh. “A daughter of yours, Venka? And you, Zhantee?” He shook his head. “Hard to imagine. I still think of her as a little cub, howling for milk at the top of her lungs. Now look at her – stalking prey like Coppersky.”
A tremor laced the ground, and the pebbles littering the sandy soil skipped. Venka shuddered. “I do not like earthquakes,” she murmured. “They summon memories... my oldest nightmare...” she leaned her head on Zhantee’s shoulder. “Thunder... crashing outside... I see with an infant’s eyes... my tiny hammock rocks wildly, bits of clay and wood rain down on me... strike me...”
Zhantee stroked a lock of her hair idly. “Mm, I remember that tremor. You and Sunstream were only a few eights-of-days old. The fresh coat of clay inside your parents’ hut wasn’t completely dried. It wasn’t a bad quake, really. Didn’t even set the zwoots off. But the hut took a fair bit of damage.”
“I remember... screaming... crying for my very life. And then a remember an arm around me, someone lifting me up, a warm shoulder – warm, bare flesh...” she smiled. “I remember Father’s voice. And yet... every time I have that nightmare, I forget that he will come and rescue me, and I am as frightened as ever.”
“I remember when he rushed you to Rain for a healing,” Grayling said. “You had already stopped crying and were happily sucking your thumb. Rayek was having a fit of foaming sickness, I swear, screaming at Rain to heal your bruises and the little scratch on your knee. Ah... I miss those days, Ven.”
She smiled. “You haven’t called me that in ages, uncle.”
“Oh, those were good days... when you and Sunstream were just cubs, when we never had to worry about anything more pressing than the night’s hunt. Now... everything is so complicated.”
“A lot has changed since then,” Venka agreed. “But it’s a pleasant sort of complication, by and large. The Palace... five tribes united... cubs grown to adulthood and new cubs to take their place. And I cannot wait to meet my new cousin.”
“I know,” Grayling grinned. “Two years... it seems an eternity. It... Timmain.”
“Timmain?” Zhantee asked.
Grayling pointed. A lone figure perched on the Horn of the Bridge of Destiny, her burnt-orange gown blowing in the wind.
“What’s she doing?” Grayling asked.
“Patrolling,” said Venka. “Is that not what a good wolf does?”
“How do... accept her? This High One more wolf than elf?”
“You have been in Sorrow’s End too long if you have to ask. Timmain is... Timmain. She wears many skins, and none of them are her own. She constantly seeks new experiences, yet nothing leaves her sated for long. She is charged to remember... just as Savah is... yet while Savah wears her cloak proudly, Timmain seems forever burdened by it. Sometimes... I think out of all the elves that have ever lived, Timmain understands herself with the greatest clarity. And sometimes I think out of all the elves that have ever lived, Timmain is the loneliest.”
Grayling turned his gaze back to the Bridge of Destiny. Timmain was gone.
“Well, sweet lifemate,” Venka got to her feet. “I do believe we promised Thamia and Moren that we would help them husk their grain and take it to Behtia’s mill. We can’t have your mother catching us tarrying.”
“Perish the thought,” Zhantee sighed, flashing a crooked smile. “Tass! Tass. Your grandparents are waiting for us.”
Tass heaved a sigh and blew a sharp breath of air up into her ragged bangs. “Coming.” She turned, batted her long eyelashes for Shashen and pushed him away with a coy little hand to his bare chest. Grayling sniffed. She caught on to Sun maidens’ ways quickly. All dainty and delicate as she skipped away to join her parents, she was the antithesis of the loud, dreamberry-stained lass he remembered on his last visit to the Great Holt.
He heard the frantic sound of bare feet slapping on sand-covered rock. His wolf-blood removed many years ago, his hearing was still keen enough to estimate the runner’s weight at something most than the typical Sun Folk. Sure enough, as he turned he saw Timmain come running into the village, her hair wild about her face, the hems of her moth-fabric gown stained with sand and dust.
“What is it, Timmain?”
“He’s here!”
“Who?”
“The evil!” She spun around, scanning the air. “He’s seen me! But he can’t hide! I’d recognize that scent anywhere!”
She turned and stalked for the great hut at the center of the village. “Timmain!” Grayling called, running after her. One great stride of her long legs was equal to two of his paces.
She reached the door of Savah’s hut and swept the beaded curtains back, ignoring the jangling sound of clay beads. Inside, Savah sat on her high-backed throne, her eyes closed, her fingers tented at her lips. The clearstone window behind her pulsed with light.
A primal snarl rose in Timmain’s throat. “You! What have you come for?”
“Timmain, what is it?” Grayling demanded.
The light behind Savah’s throne died. Savah slowly opened her eyes. “Timmain,” she spoke calmly. The High One was a ball of tension. Her shoulders rose and fell as she heaved frantic breaths. Her face was contorted with rage.
“What troubles you, Mother?” Savah asked.
“He was here! In this very room! With you!”
“Who?” Grayling barked.
“Haken.” She ground the name out through clenched teeth.
Savah blinked calmly and gave a faint incline of her head.
The ruling council of Sorrow’s End was hastily assembled inside Savah’s meditation chamber. Sun-Toucher and Leetah stood on one side of the throne, Scouter hovering at Leetah’s side as he always did, despite his lack of authority in council matters. Ahdri, Windkin and Grayling stood on the other side, while Timmain paced restlessly in the corner, next to the pedastal that held the Little Palace. Venka and Zhantee came in a few moments later, out of breath.
“I’ve been stalking a presence for the greater part of a moon,” Timmain growled. “An elusive scent I once knew well. The years have dulled the memory, but I will never forget. I have tasted his blood, and he is forever a part of me. He was here! Haken.”
“Haken... Winnowill’s father, Haken?” Scouter demanded.
“Is there any other?” Windkin muttered under his breath.
“I thought Haken disappeared into the far eastern lands?” Leetah asked. “After that... that battle Sunstream waged with him in the Palace.”
“He did,” Venka said. “And we have not heard from him since.”
“Have you... tracked him... or whatever in the Scroll of Colors?” Leetah asked.
Venka shook her head. “He cannot be found easily in the Scroll. And to be honest... we did not look hard for him. He left us in peace, and as long as he did not threaten us we felt no reason to hunt for him. Timmain, you agreed with us.”
“Yes, yes I did,” Timmain nodded. “But... now... his spirit was here in this very room! Only my presence chased him away.”
“Did he try to hurt you, Mother of Memory?” Sun-Toucher asked.
“Did he try to steal your very spirit as Winnowill did?” Leetah pressed.
“I am afraid you have all misunderstood,” Savah said calmly. “Haken did not try to abduct my spirit. He and I were communing on the astral plane, nothing more. There was no attack, simply a spirit’s conversation.”
“Conversation?” Scouter stiffened.
“Conversation?” Timmain rounded on Savah. Her eyes widened. “You! This is why I’ve sensed his spirit hovering over this place. He was not stalking us – he was speaking with you.”
“Savah, how long have you been in contact with Haken?” Venka asked.
“The greater part of a year now.”
“A year?” Grayling stammered.
“A year?!” Scouter exclaimed. “A year you’ve been inviting the father of the Black Snake into our very midst! What if he decided to attack us? What if he decided to finish what his dearest daughter started? High Ones, Savah, have you forgotten what Winnowill did to the Wolfriders – what she did to you?”
“I assure you, Scouter, I have not,” Savah said coolly. “But Haken is not Winnowill. As Venka said, he left in peace those many years ago when she encountered him – when Sunstream’s powers linked us all in one moment of pure thought. And he has come to me in peace, extending a hand of love.”
“Love?” Grayling wrinkled his nose. “From the father of the Loveless One herself?”
“You forget – my great-grandmother was his firstborn child. His blood flows in the veins of every Sun Folk. He is family.”
“Where is he?” Timmain demanded.
“Why would you know, High One? So you could pursue him?”
Timmain started. “No... no. My battle with Haken is over. But his heart is ever inclined towards deadly ambition. Even in peace he may represent a grave threat to us all.”
“He is close by,” Savah said. “Some two eights-of-days travel away – as the hawk flies.”
“Two eights...” Grayling murmured. “He’s in the World’s Spine.”
“Great Sun!” Ahdri said. “Is... are Haken and the humans somehow connected?”
“Aye...” Scouter nodded. “Who’s to say they aren’t? The Gliders at Blue Mountain kept human pets.”
“I can assure you,” Savah said, “Haken has nothing to do with the humans’ advance into the desert. In fact, Haken is most concerned with this new development. And he wishes to come visit Sorrow’s End to aid us, if he can.”
Grayling frowned. Another High One... a High One ready to help them find a solution, rather than a High One who simply ran through the hills like a wild animal. It was a tantalizing thought. But Grayling remembered well that moment when his nephew Sunstream united them in thought and deed – a moment when fear and rage fought against hope and light. Haken’s rage had been formidable, as had his powers. Had time soothed his temper, or did that anger still hide under the surface?
What kind of a creature was Haken to inspire such terror in the Mother of the Wolfriders?
“He cannot – must not come to Sorrow’s End!” Leetah cried. “I remember watching helpless as your body wasted away, Mother of Memory, as Winnowill held your soul captive. No, the father of the Black Snake must not come here to infect our sanctuary.”
“Savah,” Venka said calmly, “why did you not tell us when Haken first contacted you?”
“Because I anticipated this... uproar, my child. And because the words of a grandfather and grandchild are not meant to be shared openly.”
“And when did you plan on telling us about Haken’s... request?”
“I had hoped to gently reveal it, piece by piece, just as Haken revealed it to me. But it seems we both underestimated Timmain’s vigilance.”
**Venka,** Grayling locksent. **What do you make of all this?**
**I am not sure, uncle. I do not think the Mother of Memory could lie to us if she wished it. But I cannot simply trust that Haken has been “going out” to her out of... a desire for peace. The Haken I met is manipulative, ambitious, and utterly ruthless. There is more to his contact with Savah, and much more to his desire to visit Sorrow’s End.**
“Haken cannot come here,” Ahdri agreed. “The village is endangered already.”
“He would offer his aid.”
“Forgive me, Mother of Memory, but how can you trust a word he says?”
“Why should I not? Because he sired Winnowill?”
“Because he was twice willing to kill his own kind in order to take over the Palace,” Venka said. “Because when we encountered him at the fallen Blue Mountain, he considered us all expendable pawns in his scheme to steal the Palace’s power. That the encounter ended without bloodshed does not absolve Haken of guilt. Where it not for my brother, we would have all perished by his hand.”
“I can only reply that I sense no malice in his sendings. He is lonely, and sincere in his desire to reunite with his own kind.”
“Four centuries past he wanted nothing to do with the world – with any elves, save his lost lifemate,” Venka said.
“Perhaps regaining what was lost has changed his outlook,” Savah said.
Timmain shivered. “Chani... yes, I could imagine her hand in this...”
Grayling took a deep breath. “Savah... you are Mother of Memory, and you are our leader. If you would invite Haken here, even against our wishes, that is your decision, and we will abide by it.”
“Child, you know I would never endanger this village.”
**I need your guidance again,** he locksent to his niece.
**Timmain has forced the truth out of Savah, and now the Mother of Memory is intent on seeing this through.**
**Can we trust her, or has this High One... done something to her?**
**I sense no influence over her. Nothing of magic, at least.**
“You should know that we have never denied any elf welcome in Sorrow’s End, and that I do not intent to break that tradition,” Savah said. Her voice was oddly cool.
“We trust your judgement, Mother of Memory,” Sun-Toucher said. “As we always have.”
“Mother of Memory, please!” Leetah begged.
“Haken cannot come here!” Scouter shouted.
Grayling took a deep breath. “He’s right, Savah. We can’t simply invite him to come here and wait for... well, for what could be anything from a friendly greeting to an attack. No... I think it would be best if the Jackwolf Riders go out to meet Haken and escort him back to Sorrow’s End... as an honoured guest.”
Leetah, Scouter and Ahdri stared at Grayling in horror. Windkin and Zhantee looked dubious. Timmain turned her face into the corner in defeat. Savah smiled tremulously.
Again Grayling glanced at Venka. She nodded.
He swallowed tightly. He had just commited himself to bring home the Father of the Sun Folk – and an elf far more dangerous than all the humans tribes put together.
Elfquest copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts