Oasis
Part Two: The Journey South
Grayling chose his riders carefully. He and Ahdri would ride at the head of pack as the leading representatives of Sorrow’s End. Sust and Coppersky, the tuftcat riders, would be the hunters and warriors, should they be forced to do battle. Windkin would serve as scout. Venka and Tass would provide shielding from all threats, physical and magical. Timmain would be their guide, taking them into the unexplored mountains of the World’s Spine.
“I wish I could come with you,” Zhantee lamented as he embraced his lifemate and daughter farewell.
“Shh, sweet lifemate,” Venka soothed. “Tass can protect us from danger. But your shield may be needed here.”
“You’re the huntleader until I return,” Grayling told Wing. “Don’t take any action against the humans unless they’re at our very walls.”
Alekah presented Grayling with a warm cotton blanket freshly woven on her loom. “Something to keep you warm on your travels. Come back in one piece, hm? I don’t want our cub to only know his father through Hansha’s stories – we all know how he exaggerates.”
Hansha shot her a withering glare.
Grayling gave her a hug, then turned to Hansha and Jari. “I don’t need to tell you two to make sure she takes care of herself.”
Jari smiled. “No, you don’t.”
Grayling clasped hands with Jari, then drifted off with Hansha to share a more intimate farewell.
Timmain stood by the pack-zwoot, waiting nervously. Occasionally one of the tuftcats walked past her, and she growled under her breath. The wolf in her was rising with each passing day. Petalwing hummed to her and stroked her long hair, to no avail.
“Now, the cats won’t be happy now that we’re taking Stubtail and Stealth away from the pride,” Coppersky instructed Wing. “But I want them here to help you defend the village. Don’t take any scat from them. If any of them start picking fights with the jackwolves, get in there and give them a beating over the muzzle. Don’t worry,” he said when Wing paled. “These aren’t mountain lions – Sust and I have raised every single one by hand. They even smell a bit like wolves these days.”
Savah put a hand on Venka’s shoulder. “Please, whatever happens, approach him with an open mind. You know Haken. You know there is more than hate in him.”
Venka nodded. “Do not fear, Savah.”
“He is the father of us all. The village needs him now.”
Venka wondered at her words. Savah had always maintained a great calm in the face of this new upheaval.
They set out at sundown, as was safest for desert travel. The stars and the moons lit the way across gravel and sand as the night wore on and Smoking Mountain grew steadily larger on the horizon. Grayling led the pack astride his jackwolf. Venka followed closely on her wolf. Tass and Ahdri rode on the zwoot together while Sust and Coppersky flanked the part on cat-back. Windkin soared overhead, held aloft by his glider of wrapstuff and branches. Timmain strode purposefully on foot, keeping up with the party.
“Aren’t you tired, High One?” Tass called from atop the zwoot as night turned to dawn. “I could ride behind mother on Softpaws if you want a rest.”
“This is nothing, child,” Timmain replied. “I could keep double this pace for days on end.”
“Augh,” Tass complained as she shifted in the saddle. “Fat zwoots. My muscles are screaming. Oh... I wish I had a wolf-friend again.”
“You hardly ever rode Dawnsmoke,” Venka pointed out.
“Well, you don’t need to ride in the rainforest,” Tass shot back. “Everything you need is right in front of you, or just down the river.”
“Well, we cannot take a canoe into the World’s Spine, I fear,” Venka said.
“We need some great hawks or something,” Tass decided after several minutes of silence. “We need the Palace. Why couldn’t we just take the Palace?”
Grayling chuckled. So did Sust and Coppersky. “Spoiled little cub,” Sust muttered.
“We cannot trust Haken not to be lured to violence by the Palace’s call,” Venka reminded her. “And sometimes, Tass, the easiest, swiftest way is not the best way.”
Tass pulled a face at her mother’s back.
They rested at mid-morning, not too far from the camp the Riders had made centuries before, when Smoking Mountain had awakened. Ahdri shaped the rocks into a cool dome shading them from the afternoon heat. At dusk they awoke. Timmain was gone. Only a pile of dull orange moth-fabric and a pair of sandals remained.
“Oh, scat – now where’s she gone?” Sust demanded.
Grayling gave a nod of the head. A new jackwolf was wrestling with Grayling’s Haze and Venka’s Softpaws.
“Oh...” Sust murmured.
“Mother-mother highthing is growler-mother highthing?” Petalwing frowned.
The jackwolf saw their bemused faces and opened her mouth wide in a panting grin.
After two days of travel, Smoking Mountain fell behind them, and they entered the maze of canyons and mesas that made up the foothills of the World’s Spine. Great sandstone peaks rose along the western horizon. Windkin scouted high overhead, sometimes with Ahdri in tow, sending directions for the swiftest route through the rocks.
“Tell me everything about Haken,” Grayling asked Venka as they ate their evening meal on a rocky plateau. The sky was painted deep blues and roses as the first stars began to shine. Behind them they could hear the soft roars of the two tuftcats as they settled down to cat-nap. To the southwest the highest peaks of the World’s Spine were like jagged wolf’s teeth.
“Haken is... a mystery. A contradiction. He is the only other surviving Firstcomer, and he possesses all the powers of the ancients. Yet if one counted the years he has been awake and aware on this world, he would be counted as young as Ahdri. I do not know how old he was when the Firstcomers crashed here – only that he was the last child born on our ancestors’ homeworld. In many ways, I think Timmain regards him as a child – a dangerous, headstrong youth. He... he believes his ambitions are pure. Even at his most violent, when he was willing to kill us in the Palace, he believed his actions were entirely reasonable. He is convinced he knows what is best for all our kind, and he has nothing but scorn for those who oppose him.” She smiled softly. “For those who do not listen to his words... or worse, those who hear but do not agree... well, they are beyond redemption.”
“Why do you smile?”
“He reminds me of someone...”
Grayling chuckled. “Best not tell him.”
“Actually, my father quite admires Haken. And... if Timmain will forgive me, I too can see his alluring qualities. Such conviction in a leader is admirable.”
“Any chief who claims to know everything should be challenged,” Grayling growled under his breath.
“Bearclaw?”
He nodded.
Venka rubbed his arm. “Bearclaw lost his chief’s lock because he could not longer inspire trust in those who loved him, yes? From what I’ve heard from Sunstream and Aurek, Haken had the undying love and trust of all who followed him until the day he abandoned them. Now, Haken is a very persuasive creature, and like Winnowill he is skilled in all forms of manipulation. But I cannot help but think that there was something else... something more powerful, that could inspire such trust in his followers.” She looked up at the stars. “Haken nearly destroyed our tribe’s beginnings in his war with Timmain. And he would have killed my brother and I, our lifemates and our friends... without a moment’s hesitation. And yet he was – is – the father of both Sun Folk and Gliders. And in a way, his war with Timmain convinced her to further her bond with this world... so perhaps we Wolfriders owe him a debt of thanks as well.”
“What do you think he’ll want of us... when we find him?”
“I saw Haken in his darkest rage... in his deepest despair. Yet Sunstream saw him in his greatest joy. I cannot beginning to imagine how we will meet him this time.”
The march south continued, and soon the days of travel numbered eight. It soon became clear that “as the hawk flies” would do them little good. The salt pans and slot canyons slowed their march. So did the winds that blew between the peaks. At their rate of travel, Windkin and Grayling guessed it would be nearly a month before they reached Haken’s stronghold. Timmain continued to move mostly in jackwolf form, though she occasionally took on elfin form again, almost as if to remind herself who she really was.
They found a cluster of white human bones, long since scattered by scavengers, on the tenth day of travel. “I wonder if the Hoan-G’Tay-Sho passed this way on their journey south?” Windkin mused. Yet if the humans had once travelled between the mountain peaks, they had long since moved on, for the elves found no further remains in the sand.
The mountains surrounded them now, and they moved through barren river canyons, following Ahdri’s water-sense. Every time they stopped to rest she burrowed through the rock with her shaper’s magic and summoned a long-dormant spring. Sust and Coppersky hunted with their tuftcats for large beasts to feed the bond-beasts, while Timmain often caught small animals for the elves to share. Ravvits and bristle-boars formed the majority of their diet, although one day Sust and Coppersky brought down a strange hoofed beast with great curving horns.
As Windkin and Ahdri kept their course parallel with the ancient riverbed, so Timmain kept them travelling towards the faint psychic presence of her ancient rival. Every day when they stopped to sleep Timmain declined to rest, but patrolled about camp, her ears up for danger.
“Doesn’t she ever sleep?” Coppersky moaned.
“High Ones don’t need to,” Tass replied. “Actually, Timmain says elves don’t really need to either, if they train properly, but we’ve gotten so used to it that it’s a hard habit to break.”
“One I don’t plan on breaking.”
“Mm, maintaining such perfection must be exhaustion,” Tass teased.
“Very,” Coppersky shot back archly.
On the fourteenth day they crossed a great sandy plateau so vast it took them a whole day to reach the hills on the other side. Freezing winds blasted down from the gnarled sandstone peaks, driving the sand into stinging flurries. Finally they had to abandon their march and seek shelter in the rocks. The sandstorm blew for a night and a morning, and both mounts and riders took a grateful rest while waiting for the sky to clear.
By the twentieth day they descended into a long meandering river canyon, its steep sides rising nearly twice the height of the Bridge of Destiny. A trickle of water still flowed along the bottom.
On the twenty-third day they had abandoned the canyons to climb through unforgiving gulches and plateaus. Flat land seemed a thing of the past – instead they faced a seemingly endless landscape of rolling gravel and sharp cliffs. They camped on a small spot of table rock, surrounded by razor sharp spires of sandstone. “It almost looks rockshaped,” Sust murmured.
“No,” Ahdri touched the rock. “No, endless time is the only shaper here.”
The large jackwolf wove smoothly among the rocks, bearing a fat hare. She reached the flat campsite and set down the ravvit before looking up to grin at the Riders. A veil of golden light wreathed the animal, and she became elf before their eyes. The smile remained on her lips.
“A fine kill, Timmain,” Venka praised.
“It put up a brave fight.” Timmain stood and her hair cascaded over her bare limbs. “We should honour its spirit and waste nothing of its body.”
Coppersky walked up to her, bearing her folded dress in his hands. He kept his eyes pointedly averted. “Your clothes, High One.”
Timmain looked at him askance. “Does my nakedness offend you, child? You did not mind it when I was a jackwolf.”
Coppersky heaved a sigh, still not looking at her. “I think clothing is one of those things that separates elves from beasts.”
“Ah, the trappings of culture, yes. The affectations of... what is that word? – civilization.”
“Exactly. Civilization hard won.”
“Yet we are all beasts, at the core. The longtooth of the forest or the stalking bird of the plains does not care that you are a civilized beast.”
“I’d like to see a stalking bird build a fire,” Coppersky muttered.
“Ah, but humans build fires? Are you saying they are ‘civilized’, and therefore elevated, as we are, above the beasts?”
Coppersky sneered.
“Therein lies the peril in elevating yourself above the natural way of things,” Timmain said calmly. She turned away, while Coppersky continued to growl under his breath.
“The wheel!” he shouted to her back, triumphant. “Let’s see a human build a wheel!”
She looked back over her shoulder. “Trolls build wheels.”
“Aye, and trolls wear clothes too.”
“Enough, you two,” Grayling counselled. “Let’s cook that ravvit and lie down for a sleep. The sun’s getting too high for this growling.”
**Spoiler,** Sust’s chuckle resounded in his head.
They ate, and slept. When Grayling awoke it was nearing sundown. Petalwing was humming a faint little song to itself, not quite loud enough to wake the others. Timmain was sitting up, still in elf form but as alert as any wolf. Grayling got up and moved over to her side.
“I have never been in a desert before,” Timmain said. “No... that’s not true. I have known deserts before... on other worlds. But not this desert, on this world. Strange... the different melodies produced by sand and rock.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grayling smiled. “The golds and red of the setting Daystar – more vivid that any death-sleep in the trees. I was born in the forests of the Father Tree. My youth was of green-growing places and abundant water. But I’ve come to love this place... the brightness of the sun, the vastness of land and sky.”
“I find it... hard... to be at peace here, in this form. It’s easier to become a jackwolf, to let my blood become that of a desert creature.”
“Do you ever find peace in this form?” Grayling asked.
Timmain looked at him.
“Your eyes... they shine so brightly when you are a jackwolf. I see a joyful creature when I look at you in wolf form. But when you are a High One... I see confusion, uncertainty.”
“Oh, I envy you, my many-times grandchild. You who were born to one world, in one skin. My kind.... Long ago, we learned to shape our bodies into any form we desired, and to set our spirits free at any whim. We could even build new shells to house our spirits if the old one failed. We never died. For ages untold we were removed from the natural order. We knew every skin, and we knew no skin. We were children of infinity, yet we belonged nowhere. No until the crash brought us here... to this world of death and new life – did we find a true home. And not until I took on the skin of a wolf did I learn how to sing.”
“Then why become elf again?”
“For my children. For the future. And to honour a vow I took long ago, when I became a member of the Circle of Nine, a navigator of our great ship. I am Timmain, and it is my purpose to remember... everything.”
“And to be a wolf is to embrace the Now.”
Timmain nodded.
“But can you not take joy in what your children have done?”
“Oh, I do.”
“Then why does sadness weigh on you?”
“Because the joy does not – cannot, should not – erase the pain. For pain teaches us wisdom, helps us grow. Without it, no living thing aware of itself, can be called whole. The misguided hide from pain, trying to cover it, trying to banish it – even by inflicting it on others. Humans do so. So did Haken. Perhaps he will do again. But I must remember my pain – cherish it. For how else can I learn to become more than I am?”
Grayling had nothing to say, so he simply hung his head pensively. It was hard to argue with such words, yet he could not shake the feeling that it was wrong to keep an old wound open when a faded scar would suffice.
Timmain stiffened. “Can you smell it?”
Grayling sniffed the air. “No. I... I had the healer remove my wolf-blood years ago,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.
“Like many of the tribe now,” Timmain murmured. She set her teeth. “A mountain lion. Above us, atop that cliff face. It has been following us for the better part of a day.”
“Should we marshall the hunt?”
“No. No, there is no threat. It is... simply curious.”
“As you say, Timmain,” Grayling got to his feet. “Well, we’d better get moving if we want to cover any ground tonight.”
Timmain rose as well. But her eyes lingered on the cliff face. “Strange. I know it is simply the dance of life and death. Yet, in this skin... knowing I am being watched by another predator... I feel... nervous.”
On the twenty-ninth day they sensed they were nearing the end of their quest. Trees were beginning to grow in the rocky soil – scraggly little trees bearing a sour fruit that the elves could not stomach but their zwoot enjoyed immensely. Windkin abandoned his wrapstuff glider to float alongside his fellow travellers, sharing his tales of exploits in the mountains. “There’s nothing for days of travel around,” he explained. “Far to the east the mountain drop off onto fertile plains by the sea. But up here the air is too thin. Oh, there’s lots of game in these hills. Rock-climbing deer and crescent-horns like we caught the other day. But no rivers, no plains, no sand. Just rock.”
“There is much water here,” Ahdri corrected. “All just beneath the rocks. I can feel it everywhere.”
“What sweet little plants,” Tass giggled as they approached a cluster of fuzzy domes not unlike squatneedles. Great fleshy lobes were tipped with what appeared to be soft fur.
“Be careful!” Windkin shot out and caught her hand before she could venture too close. “I call them cholla. You don’t want to touch them.”
“Why not?” Tass frowned.
Windkin snatched one of the sour figs from the small tree that bloomed nearby and tossed it at the cholla plant. The fig impaled itself on countless tiny needles. The plant shivered, and the fleshy lobes nearby seemed to fold inward, further spearing the fruit.
Tass whistled low. So did Sust.
“Fighting pricker-bush,” Petalwing murmured.
The cholla bushes grew more abundant as they continued up the gravel pan. Timmain travelled alongside the party in elf form now, and she took care to gird her gown high about her calves to keep from snagging the hem on the prickly plants that covered the ground. Giant bats took to the skies as dust fell over the mountains. Windkin grinned and abandoned the party to fly alongside them. Ahdri dug a small hole in the gravel, then extended her rockshaping powers into the rocky soil. A long shaft bore down through the rock until the fresh scent of water rose up to greet them. Tass gratefully dropped the little bucket down the hole, then hauled it back out by its rope. Soon all their waterskins were filled again.
They rested for a time as night descended on the mountains. Grayling prowled about the periphery of camp, alert to any sounds and smells that might intrude. A loud noise that made him jump turned out to be nothing but Coppersky’s cat Stealth snoring. Grayling laughed with relief. The cat did not live up to her name.
Coppersky and Sust were building a bonfire, despite the risk, and the fire cast distorted shadows over the rocks. Grayling caught sight of something shining in the light as he turned back towards their camp. A mountain lion’s golden eyes were glowing in the darkness.
Grayling drew his atlatl and nocked a dart. But the lion rose up from its hiding place and calmly strode away from camp, all disdainful grace. Perhaps it decided the tuftcats were rival lions and did not want to press its luck.
By high-moon they continued on their march along a meandering gravel hillside. Great sandstone towers rose up out of the ground around them. Cliffs were eroded in great wave patterns. The cholla and squatneedle were everywhere, barring their way. Only when Windkin flew up above them was he able to scout a path for them by moonlight.
**It’s a sea of needle-mounds,** he sent. **And strange trees.**
The trees were indeed unusual, great winding arches of hard smooth wood, sprouting tufts of grass and sharp thorns. They seemed a merging of Sorrow’s End’s cloud-trees and some cruel stricker-plant. “Great Sun,” Venka breathed as she touched one.
“What is it, Mother?”
“My ‘magic-feeling’ is running rampant. These trees, and the needle-mounds. They’ve all been shaped. The way Redlance used to shape the thorns at Thorny Mountain to keep wandering humans and bear at bay.”
The sun began to rise as they continued to navigate their way through the barriers of thorny trees and needle-mounds. Now they hugged the side of great cliff-face with sheer walls. “It reminds me of the great rocks at the Tunnel of Golden Light,” Grayling said. “All those years ago...”
“Equally impenetrable,” Venka murmured.
“Hey, Windkin,” Sust called. “You see anything on the other side of these bluffs?”
Windkin rose into the air. **More rocks. And a great mountain peak jutting up like a spire. And... I think I might see a clearing... a plateau between the rocks. Can’t tell. I can go higher if you like?**
Ahdri ran her hand along the rocks. “These have been shaped too... strengthened.”
“Whew... it’s getting pretty hot now,” Sust rubbed the back of his neck, then hitched up the hood on his tuftcat-pelt cloak. “We going to stop for a breather soon?”
“We can’t stop,” Timmain said. “We are too close. He’s here... somewhere behind these rocks.”
“Well, I can try to scout over these bluffs,” Windkin volunteered again, as he swept overhead.
“Petalwing go too! Petalwing take care of busyhead flyhighthing.”
“Let’s not become separated,” Venka said. “Timmain is right. We are too close to the source of this.”
Ahdri walked with one hand brushing the rocks. “All of this bears the mark of a rockshaper. An old one. I–” she stepped back abruptly. The sheer wall shifted and melted, pulling away to reveal a door and a tunnel leading into the cliff-face.
“Oooh... walk-through-rock place,” Petalwing whistled.
“Good way, Ahdri,” Coppersky licked his lips. “There’s our way in.”
“I... I didn’t do anything!”
“Haken...” Timmain whispered.
Coppersky drew his dagger. So did Venka. Grayling unshouldered his atlatl.
“What do we do?” Tass asked. “Do we go in?”
“We seem to have little choice,” Venka replied.
“Aye, we’ll go in,” Grayling decided. “Sust, Coppersky. Take up the rear. Tass and Ahdri, get in the middle on the zwoot. We go in braced for trouble.”
Climbing back astride Haze, Grayling led the way in. Petalwing buzzed about his head nervously. Timmain followed close behind on foot, the others keeping close behind the High One. The tunnel was long and dark, never any wider than two elves’ shoulder-spans. It did not twist or turn, but bored straight through the rock. At length light began to slant through the ceiling, which rose high above the elves. The tunnel became instead a deep crevasse in the rock. Windkin flew overhead, just below the winding faultline that let in the daylight.
The passageway grew wider, taller. The walls were cool and fresh-smelling, in contrast to the dusty heat of the outside world. Hardy plants thrived in the cracks in the rock.
“It reminds me of our passage between the Great Rocks, when Skywise and Sunstream led us out of Sorrow’s End to find Mother and Rayek,” Venka breathed.
“The echoes here are incredible!” Tass exclaimed, and she laughed at the way her voice bounced off the wall.
“Quiet!” Coppersky hissed. “You want our enemies to hear us coming?”
Tass laughed again. “You think he doesn’t already know? Hey, Haken!” she shouted to the walls. “You watch out, old one! The Wolfriders are coming!”
“By Yurek,” Coppersky moaned.
“Tass,” Venka warned. “This is no game.”
“I smell water,” Ahdri whispered.
“I hear water,” Timmain corrected.
They passed under a great sandstone arch and the walls of the narrow passageway peeled back. Now sunlight flooded in, and they squinted at the sudden intrusion of the Daystar. They marched up an incline, towards two great bluffs that guarded a passageway as wide as two zwoots side-by-side.
Weapons bared, they crossed the threshold at the sandstone gate.
They stepped into the great valley Windkin had spotted from above, and their jaws dropped.
A huge plain, easily three times the size of Sorrow’s End, stretched out to meet the great cliffs that hemmed it in. The ground was not sand, but a soft brown soil, from which countless reeds and grasses sprouted. Hugging the far right-hand side of the valley was the water Ahdri had sensed, a great pool of clear water as blue as the sky. Surrounding the pool, palm trees and water reeds flourished. And feeding the pool was a tall waterfall that poured out of the great spire of rock that stood at the head of the valley.
They hastened to the water’s edge. Grayling tasted a handful of water and found it pure and sweet. Small fish could just be seen hiding in the underwater reeds at the water’s edge. Despite the constant flow from the waterfall the pool did not overflow into a river. “There must be an underground outflow,” Ahdri said. “I’d wager a spring somewhere in the rocks is welling up the water for that waterfall.”
Grayling looked up at the mountain peak overlooking the valley. Timmain shuddered. “He’s waiting for us.”
“How do we get up there?” Tass asked.
“Well, how do you like that?” Sust whistled. “Look over there, against the far wall.”
They squinted as they gazed across the plain. Little cracks and wrinkles in the sandstone was all they could make out.
“Are you all blind?” Sust laughed.
“They’re steps,” Coppersky said.
“Stairs...” Timmain whispered. “He’s planned everything well.”
They crossed the grassy plain to the far cliff wall. Sure enough, great steps had been shaped out of the rock. The jackwolves, tuftcats and zwoot they left below, to guard them from a rear ambush. Then Grayling and Timmain led the way up the stairs. The path took them under the shadow of the mountain, and then into the mountain itself, through an archway far too symmetrical to be the result of nature. They switchbacked up the side of the mountain, sometimes in sunlight, sometimes behind rock. Clearstone panels in the walls illuminated their way when the stairs took them inside.
Out of breath, the elves finally emerged into a large room shaped out of the heart of the beige rock. It was separated into two levels by six wide steps that connected the entryway from the landing above. Great pillars of stone to the right of the landing created a peristyle overlooking the lower level. A skylight of clearstone let in the bright morning sun; they had reached the summit of the peak.
“Incredible,” Venka breathed, scanning the perfectly smooth walls. “Like Blue Mountain in its infancy, perhaps.”
Tass let out a gasp. So did Timmain. Venka and the others turned back to the landing above them.
Haken stood at the top of the steps.
He was clad in white trousers and kilt; a white cloak fell over his shoulders, draped to conceal his maimed left arm. He glared down at them, his golden eyes glowing under the shadows cast by his long black hair.
“You’re late,” he pronounced. “I expected you a full day sooner.”
“Oooooh, Petalwing remembers lord-much highthing,” Petalwing whispered, hiding behind Timmain’s long hair.
“Haken,” Timmain spoke, forcing her voice level.
“Timmain. Did we not decide between us both that if we ever met again, one of would die?”
“Perhaps you decided. I never did.”
“I owe you much, Timmain,” he smiled cruelly, flexing what remained of his left arm under his cloak. “I really should repay my debt to you.”
“We did not come here to fight you,” Grayling said.
“And why did you come, young one? To teach me the error of my ways – forcefully? To mold me into a more pleasant shape – a tame High One, hmm?” He chuckled softly.
Ahdri stepped forward. “Haken. I am Ahdri, the Daughter of Memory.”
Haken gave her something approximating a gallant nod. “Savah spoke often of you. But your companions... I smell the rank odour of dogs about them. Ah, I should have known,” he laughed cruelly. “I extend friendship to the Sun Folk, and instead I find Wolfriders at my door! The children of Timmain, who cannot help but stick their dirty little muzzles where it does not concern them!”
“We may ride wolves, Haken, but we are all Sun Folk too, by bonds of blood and lifemating,” Venka said, stepping forward. “And so we have come as envoys of Sorrow’s End.”
“You!” Haken pointed a finger at her. “Ohh... I remember you. We met at Blue Mountain. Yes, the beauty with the sending shields. Well, you caught me by surprise last time, I’ll admit. But I hope you’ve not come back for a rematch.”
Venka stiffened. But before she could act, Tass leapt in front of her. “You lay one hand – one spirit hand – on my mother, and I swear I’ll–”
“Who is this little sprat?” Haken laughed. Tass flushed at the taunt, as she always did when reminded she was a full half-head shorter than her mother.
“Tass!” she replied, summoning all her bravado. “And if you thought my mother could knock you senseless, just wait until you try me!”
“Is that an invitation, infant?” Haken raised his hand threateningly and took a step down towards her.
“Haken!” a sharp voice filled the room, and Haken froze in his tracks. All eyes turned to the far corner of the landing as another white-robed elf appeared.
A soft gasp escaped the travellers. The newcomer was tall as Timmain, equally slender and long-limbed. Yet where Timmain was all angles, she was sinuous curves and leonine grace. Her long blond hair cascaded down her back, almost to her knees. Her golden eyes were ageless as Timmain’s, but her face was softer, rounder, like a polished oval of alabaster. A black Preserver flitted about her head, before settling down to rest on Haken’s shoulder.
“Please, my lord,” she spoke anew, and her voice was warm and sweet as honey. “It does not become a host to quarrel with his guests.”
Haken turned to gaze up at her with lovestruck eyes. She held out her hand to him and he took it in his. “Fortunately for you,” he addressed the travellers, his eyes never leaving his lifemate’s face, “my lady holds sway over my heart.” He raised her hand to his lips. She smiled prettily as she stepped down to join him on the fifth step.
“Chani...” Timmain whispered.
Chani turned, looked down at the travellers. “Welcome to our oasis. We trust you will enjoy your stay with us.” Her gaze fell on the High One. “Timmain. You’re still alive.”
She flinched. “Are you so disappointed, my daughter?”
“Only a little surprised. It’s quite remarkable, you’ll admit, that all the others of that first tribe have all perished over the millennia... one by one... while you who masqueraded as a beast in the forest’s depths, somehow survived.”
“Chani, why must there be this war between us?”
“War? War implies a struggle, a conflict. There is no conflict between us, Mother. There is only a rift. You stand on your side, and I on mine, and never shall the gulf be breached.”
Timmain looked away. Petalwing peeked out from behind her white hair. It frowned. “Golden-soft highthing?” it murmured, scrutinizing Chani’s face. Then it saw the black Preserver crouched on Haken’s shoulder. “Ahhhhh! Sourface No-Hat!”
The black Preserver drew back its lip in a snarl. “Petalwing!”
“Petalwing thought No-Hat had flown away-away.”
“Flitrin!” it snapped back.
“Awww.... No-Hat still sourface.”
Flirtin hissed menacingly.
“Why have you come here?” Chani asked now.
“We come in peace,” Grayling said. “It remains to be seen whether you will welcome us in kind.”
Chani laughed lightly. “Oh, I see Savah’s teachings in you. I’ve been watching you most closely, Wolfrider. You know what it truly means to be an elf.”
“You’ve been... watching me?” Grayling frowned. “How... when?”
Chani gave him a sly little smile. Timmain drew in a sharp breath.
“The mountain lion.”
Chani nodded.
“I never knew you could selfshape, daughter.”
“Oh, I could not. Until I came back. It’s amazing how dying changes one’s perspective.” She looked over the travellers. “The rest of you are welcome to stay here, so long as you remember the courtesy due a host from his guests.” There was ice to her voice now.
“Nastybad highthings! Angrytalk makes mother-mother highthing much sad. Make Petalwing much vexed!”
“Too much fuss-fuss bugs end up in bitty bits,” Flitrin taunted.
Haken chuckled.
“No-Hat messymuch in head,” Petalwing trilled, sticking out his tongue. “No fussmuch when No-Hat goes fly away-away. Petalwing not miss sourface one bitty-bit!”
“Petalwing die now!” Flitrin screeched, launching itself off Haken’s shoulder, claws outstretched. Petalwing shrieked and hid behind Timmain’s head. But Chani’s arm shot out and she snatched Flitrin out of the air before it could attack.
“Flitrin will behave,” she ordered.
“Lady Highthing! Newcomer... things only cause trouble,” it whined miserably.
“Flitrin. Do.”
“Flitrin do,” it grumbled, and hopped up onto her head, where it curled up and spread its wings like a pair of flower’s petals.
Coppersky moved up to join Grayling. “Someone else is watching us,” he whispered low, yet just loud enough for Haken and Chani to overhear.
Grayling looked about the room. The shadows of the peristyle and whatever corridors lay behind could easily conceal a spy. And none of the travellers had wolf-blood, not even Timmain, as she was in elfin form.
Yet it was Windkin, the full-blooded Glider, who recognized the distinctive presence of the intruder. He left Ahdri’s side and walked up to join Grayling and Coppersky.
“Spar?” he called. “Spar, are you here?”
Grayling and Venka exchanged worried glances. But Chani only smiled. “They’ve found you out, my dear.”
They turned to the columned peristyle, all shadows beyond the reach of the skylight. A figure slowly emerged from the gloom. The daughter of Redlance and Nightfall stood overlooking the travellers. She wore a long black robe that swallowed up her slight figure and set off the brilliant highlights in her red hair.
“Spar!” Windkin exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Is Door here too?”
Spar smiled, a little nervously. “Would he be anywhere else? He would have been here to greet you too, but he’s still nervous around newcomers.”
“Spar,” Venka said. “Why are you here?”
“Because Haken and Chani invited us here. As family.”
“Family?” Grayling frowned.
“Door is our great-grandson,” Chani said. “Grandchild of our son Runya.”
“Mm, and he has some part to play in your plans?” Venka asked.
“Plans? Does family need plans?” Haken demanded. “We heard his cry for aid those many years ago, but it was only recently that we found him.”
“And what of Aurek?” Timmain asked. “Your grandson. Have you called him close, as ‘family?’”
“In time,” Chani replied. “He is a world away, after all. And we had no desire to disturb others.”
“To draw attention to yourselves,” Grayling corrected.
“You speak as though we must hide ourselves,” Haken said.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing – behind these walls of rock and needle-mounds?”
Haken chuckled. “Oh, you’re right, Chani. He has promise.”
“Why are you here, Spar?” Windkin addressed the Wolfrider again. “Why didn’t you send to us in Sorrow’s End? How long have you been here?”
Spar shrugged. “A year... more or less.” She hugged the stone column as if for support. There was sadness in her eyes. Or was it fear?
“Are they holding you here against your will?” Windkin asked.
She smiled faintly. “Windkin, when has anyone ever done anything to me against my will?”
“Is it so hard to believe she would wish to join her lifemate’s family?” Haken asked.
“Oh, I know Door always longed for the old days of Blue Mountain,” Windkin said. “But this doesn’t seem like the Spar I know.”
“Times change,” Spar said. “Neither of us are the cubs we were.”
“Oh, it’s been a long time since we were lovemates, yes. But it wasn’t so long ago we saw each other in the Forevergreen.”
“Four years, Windkin.”
“Four years...” Windkin nodded. “You were still begging Door to come to Sorrow’s End, to forget the dreams of Blue Mountain and humans kept as pets. Now... what?” he scowled. “You’re making a new holt with the Father of Blue Mountain? What’s changed since then?”
Spar stepped away from the column. She unclasped the robe at her throat and swept it open, revealing a soft blue caftan stretched tightly over her swollen abdomen.
She smiled gently at their astonished faces.
“You see?” Haken said. “The Gliders are far from extinct.”
Ahdri spoke next, breaking the nervous silence that had descended over the Jackwolf Riders.
“Haken. Do you and your... family... wish to come visit Sorrow’s End and meet with the Mother of Memory face to face. Or was that a ruse to lure us here?”
“Oh, I am looking forward to meeting my many-times granddaughter,” Haken said.
“But the sun is rising higher,” Chani interrupted smoothly. “You must all be tired from your travels. We shall speak more of this come sundown. We have many rooms that offer refuge from the heat.”
“But Timmain is not welcome in your house,” Grayling said.
“For my part, I am most indifferent,” Chani replied smoothly. “But, in deference to my lord,” she held out her hand, and again Haken took it, “I must decline her sanctuary inside the mountain.”
“They we will not take refuge inside either,” Grayling said. “We will make our own shelter in the valley below.”
“As you wish.”
“And we will speak more this evening?”
“Of course.”
Grayling gave her a little bow of the head. “Then until tonight. And we are grateful for the shelter of your oasis.” He gave a little nod to the others, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Windkin held up his hand. “I’d like to speak with Spar. If... that is permitted, of course.” Cold disdain dripped from his voice, and to those who knew Tyldak, it was clear Windkin was every inch his son.
Haken sniffed scornfully. Chani, however, was unfazed. “It is for Spar to say, not us.”
“I’d like that,” Spar said.
Windkin touched foreheads with Ahdri. “I’ll be done before long, don’t worry.”
**Be careful, Hwll,** she locksent. **I don’t trust much in this place.**
He smiled tightly. **Neither do I.**
Spar led Windkin beyond the peristyle into her room, a chamber shaped as cleanly as if it were a clay-sculpted hut in Sorrow’s End. Large windows let in sunlight and a fresh breeze. Spar sat down in a stone chair softened by cushions and blankets. “Is this loom-work?” Windkin asked as he sat down opposite on a little bench.
“Yes. I learned from the humans in the Forevergreen. It’s quite simple, really.”
“Spar...” Windkin leaned forward and took her hands in his. “What’s happening here? You, Door... Haken... this place... the cub?”
Spar smiled softly. “You can never predict Recognition.”
“How long?”
“A year... and a moon or two.”
“Why didn’t you send to us. Does anyone else know? Your parents?”
Spar shook her head.
“Why not? This isn’t the old days – you can send to anyone you want, anywhere in the world.”
Spar hugged her stomach. “I... I don’t know, Windkin. Haken and Chani appeared in the Forevergreen one day... and spoke to us about... about forming a new holt. A new... mountain. And I didn’t know what to think about it... and then Door and I Recognized. And suddenly there was a cub to worry about. I suppose... I suppose there were things that needed taking care of before I told anyone.”
“Tyldak’s son,” a voice announced. Windkin looked up. Door had silently floated into the room, all haughty bearing. The silver-haired Glider, at least, had not changed since Windkin last seen him.
“Door.”
“You’ve heard the good news, I see.” Door snuck up behind Spar’s chair and bent down, slipping his arms about her shoulders. “Isn’t she aglow with life, my lovely mate? We will make perfect child, the two of us. Who knows?” he turned to Spar. “You and I, we may even sire a whole tribe of Gliders? Would that not extraordinary?”
“Well, let’s see how this one turns out, old bird,” Spar smiled wryly. “Siring’s a lot easier than bearing, you know.”
**Spar,** Windkin locksent. **Are you truly happy here? Or is Recognition holding you fast?**
Door looked up. “Oh, do me the respect of speaking openly, cousin! Do you think I cannot hear any attempts at locksending in my presence?”
“Fenn!” Spar slapped his arm lightly. “Don’t preen. And don’t act like you can hear his sendings – you can feel the static in the air, that’s all.”
“Spar!” Door exclaimed.
“And Windkin, do you think I could take him down from his high perch if I was a prisoner, even one of Recognition. Of course I’m happy here. If I wasn’t, I’d have sent for an escape long ago.” Spar sat up straighter. “No, I’m happy here. But I’m worried.”
“About what?” Windkin asked.
“What troubles you, my precious?”
Spar shook her head. “I know you think Haken is a danger. And I’m worried that you’ll see a battle where none exists. That’s why I waited so long to tell the Wolfriders about the cub.”
“What is happening here?” Windkin asked. “You can’t seriously want to recreate Blue Mountain.”
“Why not?” Door challenged. “We are children of the High Ones. Nothing is beyond our power.”
“Some things should be beyond common sense!” Windkin snapped. “Or have you forgotten about the Black Snake entirely? That’s her father out there!”
“Haken is not Winnowill.”
“And you think you can remake Blue Mountain under his guidance?”
“Blue Mountain was a wondrous place once, before Grandfather left and Winnowill went mad. Aurek showed me in the sending. So has Grandfather. Blue Mountain was a dream once. That dream is waiting to be recaptured.”
“Out here in the desert?”
“Far from any passing humans,” Spar said. “A sanctuary for our kind.”
“Have you given up trying to tame humans, Door?”
“You have a mouth on you,” Door growled.
“Many things have changed since you last visited us,” Spar said.
“So now you want a sanctuary. But not in Sorrow’s End.”
“We would like to visit Sorrow’s End.”
“Oh, but not to live there,” Windkin drawled. “You have your ‘Oasis.’ Your new Blue Mountain. To hold a grand tribe of five!”
“There may soon be more than five,” Door shot back. Spar touched his arm, shushing him softly.
“Oh, you’ll breed a new tribe, you two?” Windkin asked. Then he saw Spar’s furtive looks to her lifemate. He frowned. “That’s not what he meant, is it, Spar?"
Spar would not meet his gaze. “Spar?” Windkin pressed. “Great Sun... so that’s why Haken wants to see Savah!”
“Windkin–” Spar began, but he was already springing up from the bench.
Ahdri shaped a little archway out of the sandstone bluffs next to the stairs, and gave the travellers and their mounts some shade. Timmain, however, would not accept the shelter, and instead sat in the reeds near the pool.
Tass spread out her blanket, grumbling loudly.
“What’s gnawing at your gut?” Sust asked.
“Chani. Can you imagine? ‘In deference to my lord...’” she sneered. “What art!”
Coppersky laughed. “Beautiful. That was... smooth as honey.”
“Shh,” Venka warned. She nodded meaningfully towards Timmain’s back.
Coppersky rolled his eyes, then stretched out on his back with his head in Sust’s lap. “Mm, don’t you dare move,” he replied dreamily.
“Am I going to get to lie down, kitten?”
“Do whatever you want, Sust. Just don’t move.”
Sust chuckled. A sharp kick of the knee shocked Coppersky out of his reverie.
Grayling spread out his own blanket and lay down. His mind was racing. Plans within plans, no doubt – no matter what Haken said about “family.” But what he was planning, Grayling could only guess.
He thought of Spar, and her full belly. Alekah would be that big in another turn of the seasons. He would be glad to back in Sorrow’s End well before then, back where everything make sense, home in time to feel the little cubling kicking for the first time.
**Grayling!** Windkin’s sending broke his train of thought.
Windkin appeared a moment later, flying down from the mountain’s peak at high speed. He kick the ground running and dashed under the arch.
“Lifemate – what?” Ahdri hastened to his side.
“Grayling!” Windkin gasped, breathless. “This oasis isn’t just for four elves. Haken wants to rebuild Blue Mountain – and he needs a new tribe to do it. That’s why he wants to go to Sorrow’s End. He wants the Sun Folk here, under his yoke!”
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