Oasis
Part Six: Sorrow's Descent
Not surprisingly, Grayling’s announcement to the Sun Folk was not well received.
“You can’t begin to understand!” Ahnshen spat. “You’re a Wolfrider. We’re Sun Folk – we cannot leave Sorrow’s End, and certainly not for some... hole in a mountainside. Plants uprooted from their soil cannot be replanted on bare rocks!”
“Father...” Coppersky heaved a sigh. “Will you just listen?”
Jarrah clutched Ekuar’s arm tightly. “No... no, you can’t make us leave. Please, there must be some way–”
“There is none,” Grayling said sternly.
“Dung to that!” Scouter challenged hotly. “We can stand and fight!”
“Five eights and a few elves against hundreds of humans? I think not, Scouter.”
“We have more than mere numbers. Summon the Palace. We can channel its power and–”
“No,” Venka said. Scouter turned on her.
“The Palace will not come to our aid,” she said. “Not to scare the humans, not to wage war against them – not even to fly us all out of the hills. Unless it can arrive and leave long before the humans reach Sorrow’s End, or disguise itself as a hillside and lay dormant until they pass, then my brother and father will not allow its flight to Sorrow’s End. I’m sorry, Scouter, but we cannot chance the Palace being seen by humans. You know that.”
“What can they do to us? Stone arrows and wooden clubs cannot pierce the Palace’s living armour!”
“Would you take the chance that they might?” Venka asked. “Do not forget, the Firstcomers lost the Palace to the humans once before.”
“The Firstcomers were paralyzed with fear. We are warriors!”
“Speak for yourself,” Ahnshen growled.
“We have two Firstcomers of our own,” Halek said. “Timmain, Haken, can’t you...?”
“Murder the humans?” Haken asked. “I’d be quite happy to try. I might even be able to do so, with the support of the Jackwolf Riders. But of the two wars I have led against humans, neither was without... sacrifice.”
“We’re not afraid to die,” Shushen pounded his chest with his fist.
Haken sneered. “Don’t make me laugh, infant. You know even less of dying than you do of living.”
“And I am not prepared to let even one elf sacrifice himself,” Savah said calmly from her canopied chair. “Sorrow’s End is the haven of our kind. But even it is not worth an elf’s life.”
“Curse it, some things are worth fighting for – dying for!” Scouter snapped.
“Yes,” Timmain agreed. “But this is not one of them.”
“My children,” Savah said gently. “I know you all fear for the future. Sorrow’s End is all you have ever know. Even I can scarcely recall the days before. But Sorrow’s End is simply a place – a collection of things. Things can be replaced. Things are not alive. Timmain and Haken can remember the times when our ancestors sailed among the stars – and there were no shortages of world for our kind to settle. This oasis must fall and wither. All things end... each vine, each flower, at the end of its time, withers. But Sorrow’s End will live on. We will journey to a new oasis, and there make a new life for ourselves.”
“Savah, you cannot give up,” Leetah implored.
“This isn’t right...” Ahdri murmured. “We’ve fought so hard – overcome droughts, famines, even Smoking Mountain!” She clenched her fists tight. “I stopped a mountain to save Sorrow’s End! A mountain is greater than any horde of humans.”
“We can channel the power of the Palace!” Scouter insisted again. “Our magic-users can strike the humans down without ever showing themselves!”
“Hmm, strike out blindly without thought,” Timmain murmured. “Spurred on by desperate cruelty. Like humans. Like... others...” her eyes drifted to the side.
“Oh, such pretty fangs you have,” Haken sneered.
“The Palace is not coming,” Weatherbird said. “It’s not going to happen, Scouter. We have to plan something else.”
“I’m not abandoning my home until the entire ruling council orders me to!” Ahnshen insisted.
Haken rolled his eyes. “Council... more pointless chatter.”
Slowly the eyes of the Sun Folk drifted about to land on the members of the council. Ahdri spoke first. “I cannot agree with this. Sorrow’s End... it is more than a place, Mother of Memory. At least to me. The rock underfoot is just as alive to me as any of you. It is a part of me. Losing Sorrow’s End... it would be as painful as losing...” her eyes drifted to Windkin.
“Oh... Ahdri...” Savah touched her shoulder. “You speak as my Yurek did... so long ago. I lost him to the rock... I would not lose you too.”
Sun-Toucher spoke next. “This land is a dear to me as a living elf. Indeed, it seems I have Recognized these rocks and winds... a slow loving Recognition built upon year after year. But I will sacrifice my love for this land, today if need be – and build a new love and a new life elsewhere.”
Toorah took his hand. “And I will go with you, lifemate, today if need be. For this land is barren without the joys of family.”
Leetah only shook her head.
“You know my position,” Grayling said. “And you know Savah’s.”
“Grayling,” Alekah implored. “Must we decide this today?”
“We haven’t time to wait.”
“Why not?” Leetah asked. “Why can’t we – what do you call it? – den-hide and wait to see if the humans will pass us by?”
Haken swept his hand through the air. “We’ve been over that. At best we postpone the inevitable. The sad truth, my little desert blossom, is that you live along a very inviting migration route. More will come. And while I cannot say the prospect of hunting and killing every human who passes close by does not appeal to me, I doubt it would sit well with your delicate sensibilities.”
Leetah got to her feet, hands on hips, and glared up at Haken with the harshest expression she could muster. “Does it make you feel taller, to scorn us as lowly insects?”
Haken was unfazed. “It tends to.”
Somewhere within the ranks of the Jackwolf Riders rose a muffled laugh. But Leetah maintained her composure. “That is not the way of a leader,” she bit the words out.
Haken descended the dais, towering over the healer. “A leader is unafraid to speak the truth, no matter how unpleasant it may be to your refined palate.”
Leetah clenched her fists tight. “A leader does not talk down to us!” she grated the words out between clenched teeth, struggling not to succumb to emotion. “Nor does a father.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Haken’s face. “Now, I don’t think there are many who would dare speak so to a High One,” he murmured. “You have some courage in you after all, healer. Good. You’ll need it.” He spoke up louder, for all too hear. “Any fool can back himself into a corner and wait to die. It takes greater courage to rebuild after all you hold dear has been turned to ash. Believe me, it is a lesson I know well.” His gaze drifted first down to his missing arm, almost unwillingly, then to Chani and their great-grandson Door, sitting with Spar off Sun-Toucher’s left side.
“When cornered, the wisest wolf chooses flight,” Grayling said.
“We’re not wolves!” Jari snapped.
“No, we are Sun Folk,” Savah said. “But the sun will still shine to the south. And once... long ago, we were Rootless Ones, who roamed the earth but did not anchor themselves in the ground. Please, my children. We could choose to stand firm, only to be blown over by the storm. We could quarrel, losing precious time. But I beg you, choose the gentler path, painful as it is to you now.”
Savah’s gentle words drained the last resistance from the dissenters. Scouter, Leetah and the farmers fell silent, though their eyes said they were most unwilling participants.
“Grandfather, will you tell us your plan?” Savah bade.
Haken paced in front of the dais. “Three days is all we have, as near as... our scout can guess.” He refused to look at Timmain. “Three days for you to gather all your supplies, all your possessions. Your huts and your fields will have to stay behind. So will your zwoots. We will linger as long as we can – this will be no pathetic flight. But in three days the humans will be here. In the three days you have to prepare, I and the other rockshapers will build our escape: a tunnel through the rock, leading down into the bones of this land. Out of sight and out of mind, we will seal up the entrance and let the humans pass right by. They’ll have the hills and the well – they’ll have no need to journey south into the gravel pans and canyons. And it’s in the canyon bed that the Palace will come for us, and take us to Oasis – and please let’s not spoil this charming moment by tossing about the old accusations,” he whirled on Venka’s family, and behind them, Timmain. “Though it may wound your precious pride, I’ll say once more that I have no interest in your relic.”
“We believe you, Haken,” Weatherbird said.
**I don’t–** “Ow!” Tass squeaked as Weatherbird reached around Venka and yanked a single long hair from her head.
Haken held Timmain in his scornful gaze. At length Timmain looked away in a symbolic submission. Haken spun back on the Sun Folk. “We have three days to prepare, and three days to continue this petty bickering. After that, we leave.”
The Sun Folk stirred uneasily. Ahdri swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward. “My heart is not in this. But it’s my hands that are needed. If it is Savah’s will, we’ll begin work on the tunnel now.”
Savah smiled sadly. “Dear child, though it pains me more than you can know, it is.”
Ahdri nodded matter-of-factly. “We should rotate our duties as we have in the past. Haken, will you join me, and Door and Ekuar shall take our places come sundown?”
Haken gave her a respectful nod. They moved away from the square, while the other villagers slowly got to their feet and looked about in confusion.
Chani rose from her seat and stepped out from under the canopy awning. “It’s probably best to take this one day at a time. You should pack your most important possessions first, your keepsakes and tools. Farmers, take all your best seeds. Weavers, dismantle and wrap up your looms. Remember, you are not losing your home, only picking it up and taking it with you. But pack nothing you can live without. Tomorrow we will see what we have, and how much more we can afford to take.” She smiled sadly. “And remember we are all equally miserable at this turn of events. My lord and I would never have asked you to abandon your Sorrow’s End if it was not necessary.”
Her kind words soothed some tempers, but it was clear others were not convinced. As the meeting dispersed, Grayling hiked over to join Hansha, Jari and Alekah, anticipating the anger his new family would release on him. Hansha reached out and took his hand in silent support.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
To his surprise, Alekah touched his shoulder. “There’s no choice. Part of me knows that. Someone had to admit what we’re all fearing.”
Jari scowled. “None of this is right.”
“No,” Hansha agreed. “But we can’t really do anything about that, can we? I don’t think the land and the wind and the season really think of right or wrong.” He mustered a feeble smile. “I’m sure the humans, if they could hear us and understand us, would think it was perfectly right.”
“The humans–” Jari began angrily. But he saw the sadness in Hansha’s green eyes and his anger melted. “Aye. They would, wouldn’t they? And the soil wouldn’t take sides either way.”
“You’re starting to think like a Wolfrider,” Grayling said.
Jari did not seem cheered by the compliment. Alekah hugged him fiercely. “We’ll be settled again by the time our kitling is born. He’ll know nothing of our pain, only the joy in building a new world.”
“Until something else destroys our new world.”
“Mountains rose and fell in the time it took for the humans to come to Sorrow’s End,” Grayling said. “And I’ve been to Oasis – from a distance it’s not nearly as inviting as these hills were to me when I crossed the Burning Waste with my birth-tribe.”
“So we hope.”
“No one can guess the future, Jari. Not even little Weatherbird who can read the Scroll of Colors as easily as you and I read the daylight by the sun’s arc. We can only deal with what’s right in front of us.”
Jari shook his head sadly. “You Wolfrider have words for every moment. So do Savah and Haken. But there are no words for this... pain.”
Alekah could only cling to her lifemate tightly. “I know, Jari. We all know.”
Timmain misjudged the speed of the human migration. By the end of the day they had camped less than half a day’s ride from Sorrow’s End. Grayling, Wing, Venka and Zhantee rode out to see the camp being erected. The beasts of burden were exhausted, and several of the men looked ready to expire from heat stroke. Yet the stronger warriors were already erecting sacred totems out of rocks, and painting each other with paint. Three fat man stood at the outskirts of camp, facing the east and chanting loudly.
“What are they saying?” Grayling asked.
“War,” Wing translated. “Ma-nak wills... war... death to... dark creatures... spirits? No, not spirits, something else.”
“Demons, then,” Grayling growled. “I suppose they’ve decided we do not speak for their god after all.”
“Ma-nak wants the humans to take the hills... all of the hills,” Wing deciphered. “They will take the mountains peak by peak... and Ma-nak will... give them victory. Anyone who doesn’t – favour? – the humans is an evil spirit.”
Venka sighed. “There it is, then. There can be no peace.”
“They are all near collapse,” Wing said. “They’ll have to rest before they charge.”
“They don’t intend to rest,” Grayling said. He narrowed his eyes. “They’ll move again by morning. No... they aren’t going to charge. They’re just going to move... to advance like a wave of little stinging fire-ants. And we have to get out of their way before they reach Sorrow’s End.”
The packing continued steadily as the rockshapers slowly burrowed their way into the sandstone. What began as the deepest of the wolf caves was gradually expanding into a long tunnel shaft, gently sloping down below the surface of the desert. The tunnel was too narrow for zwoots – they would have to be left to fend for themselves in the hills – but large enough to accomodate the Sun Folk and the jackwolves and tuftcats. By the morning of the second day, Ahdri descended deep into the tunnel to begin her second shift of rockshaping. The air that was already hot and dry at the entrance of the tunnel was cool and surprisingly moist. Tiny little glowing pebbles were strewn along the sides of the tunnel to light her way. Though she could only guess until she touched the rock and merged with it, Ahdri guessed the tunnel already extended well beyond the Bridge of Destiny.
Door had already retired, but Ekuar was still at work, humming as he coaxed the rock to peel away from the air. Heavy beads of sweat stood out against his skin. He paused to wipe his bald head. “Ohhh... hello, dear one.”
“You look exhausted,” Ahdri said. “Have you been working all night?”
“Ahh... I’m not used to it. Been so long since I’ve moved this much rock... ah... once, long ago I used I do this every waking moment.... Oh... but don’t worry... I’ll get this up... I’ll...” his eyes lidded over and he sagged. “Ohhh....”
“Ekuar!” Ahdri exclaimed as she caught him. She rolled him over on his back and sent to him. **Ekuar... Ekuar, can you hear me?**
The only reply was garbled nonsense, a buzzing static between her ears.
**Leetah! Venka! Jarrah! Someone! Ekuar’s collapsed!** She groped her hand across Ekuar’s chest, trying to find his heartbeat. **By Yurek, he’s hardly breathing.**
The moments passed slowly, agonisingly so. At length Jarrah came running down the darkened tunnel, followed closely by her granddaughter. “Oh, no no no no no,” Jarrah cried out as she fell to her lifemate’s side. “Ekuar! Ekuar!”
Leetah raced down the tunnel, clad in her long moth-fabric nightgown. She dropped down next to Ahdri and placed her hands on Ekuar’s chest. “His heart is tired. He’s pushed himself too far... for too many days...”
“We should have realized,” Venka fretted. “His body is so frail...”
Leetah went to work, her healing glow surrounding the ancient elf’s body. “Ohh... his heart is fighting me...” she grimaced. “He’s so tired... so tired...”
“You must save him!” Jarrah wept. “Please, healer! I cannot lose him!”
“Quiet!” Leetah snapped.
Now Savah and Haken were nearing. “Curse it!” Haken swore. He crouched down next to Ekuar. A second aura of magic enfolded the old rockshaper, one of levitation. **Yes! Good! Good – you’ve released him from the pull of the world! His body no longer fights me.**
“Dear Ekuar...” Savah breathed, tears welling in her eyes.
At length Leetah sat back. Ekuar gently floated down into Ahdri’s arms.
“He must sleep,” Leetah said.
Flitrin hovered about Haken’s head. “Sleep? Flitrin do, Lord Highthing?”
Haken nodded.
“Ekuar–” Jarrah reached for him, but Venka gently held her back.
“There is no more profound rest, Grandmother.”
Flitrin quickly buzzed about Ekuar, spitting wrapstuff. Within moments Ekuar was safely cocooned. Jarrah gathered the cocoon in her arms, and her tears fell on the glimmering threads. “Sleep now, dear lifemate. Venka and I will watch over you.”
Venka and Jarrah lifted the cocoon together and bore him up the tunnel, back towards the village. Leetah got to her feet and staggered away, spent from her effort.
“You have a formidable power, healer,” Haken called to her back.
Leetah cast him a wan smile and nodded slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment. “I could not have healed him without your help.”
Haken gave a brusque nod and moved to join Ahdri at the tunnel’s terminus. “We haven’t time to linger, have we? Let’s get back to work.”
Ahdri hesitated. “Poor Ekuar. Why didn’t we sense it?”
Haken put his hand to the rock and it peeled back away under his touch. “Ekuar is safe. And we have work to do.”
Ahdri sighed. She raised her hand to the rock and rejoined the effort. “How can you... put it away so swiftly?”
A pause. “It is not easy.”
They worked together in silence for a while, and the only sound was their breathing, and the soft hum of rock being shaped away.
She heard Haken muttering something.
“What?”
“Should have known better...” concern and self-blame crept into his voice. “I keep forgetting how long he’s been in that skin. Too long in one body... it does not take much to leave it.”
The warriors danced in a ritual dance of combat, while Aballan and his fellow shamans threw sacred herbs on the fires the women stoked at the edge of camp. Though the heat of the afternoon was unbearable, they built the sacred pyres higher.
Tagon strutted in his glory at the edge of camp, his spear raised high. Aballan watched the chief hunter carefully.
“Tomorrow we march!” Tagon declared. “Summon the glory of Manach, my brothers! Tomorrow we take the rocks from the shadow-demons!”
“Why wait for tomorrow?” Aballan asked as Tagon walked over to the fire to breathe in the fragant smoke.
“What’s that, old man?”
Aballan smiled. “You plan to march with the sunrise. But it’s a good half-day’s march to the rocks where you last saw the demons... if you remember the contours of the land.”
“I remember them well, old man!”
“The rocks have changed. You were right, Tarach, they must be the work of Gotara’s shadow-demons, for Manach would not seek to deceive us so.”
Tagon smiled proudly. Aballan had to bite back a laugh at how easily the great bear was manipulated. “But if you leave at sun-up it will be the middle of the day before you find the demons’ nest... assuming they haven’t fled in terror. And if they mean to fight... well, you’ll be exhausted by the march, won’t you?”
Tagon narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?”
Aballan shrugged. “Leave tonight. Travel through the safety of the cool night.”
Tagon scoffed. “At night – where the shadow-demons are out in full force? Have a death wish, shaman?”
“Manach’s Left Eye will be full overhead tonight. And his Right Eye will rise by midnight. The auguries are favourable. And the creatures that live in the rocks will not expect an attack by moonlight.” He smiled. “A bold gamble, Tagon. One that could benefit us both.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think of it. You with the scalp of a blaspheming demon on your belt. I with the honour of being the shaman to predict your victory. Listen carefully, Tagon.” He gestured for Tagon to follow him. “You pride yourself on your tracking abilities, but the very landscape has been altered by these... creatures of witchcraft. Suppose you leave by sunrise tomorrow. It will be at least afternoon before you reach the demons’ hills – later if you are mislead by the clues in the rocks. Perhaps it will evening. You and your warriors will be exhausted, in so fit shape to fight. And the demons will fight. Blasphemers always fight to the death. Now, consider... leave tonight at sundown. Hike throughout the night. Take the time to find the demons’ camp. Take time to gather your strength. Attack at dawn, as Manach’s Left Eye sets... as the sun rises and blinds the demons. Attack with your full force. You will have your victory. And so will I. But if you set out tomorrow morning, as planned, and the battle goes poorly, then I will cry out against you as a false prophet. And the people will listen. You will be shamed in front of everyone!”
Tagon listened carefully. “You make a good point. But my warriors are tired. They need a full night’s rest. Perhaps... we should delay another day to gather our strength.”
“After you promised them all that you have? Come now, Tagon. You know better.”
“And how do I know you don’t intend us to fail, by sending us out into the darkness?” Tagon narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you don’t intend to have an accident befall me in the night?”
“I am sending my chosen successor as your rear guard, Tagon.”
“Mm, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you gave him a dagger to sheathe in my back.”
“You reveal the darkness of your own soul to accuse me of such things!”
Tagon smiled. “And if you are so certain this night-time raid will work, then come with us.”
Aballan blinked. “I am an old man, Tagon, and your war’s marching pace has wearied me.”
“Come now, shaman. Do you not trust your own auguries?”
Aballan patted his fat gut. He had sweated off several pounds of water weight, and his skin was wrinkled in loose folds about his abdomen. “I am no warrior.”
“Ah, but the glory you’ll win at our side, warleader-shaman!” Tagon purred.
“And how do I know you will not stick a knife in my back?”
“In front of the war party of all the clans? Don’t be foolish, old man.”
Aballan hesitated. “Why do you ask this of an old man?”
“Because you’ll not convince me of this plan if you stand by the sidelines so cheerfully, ready to speak against me the moment I leave camp. No, Aballan. You’re march at my side, or I’ll wage my own war without you.”
Aballan smiled tightly. “You’ll not take my mask of leadership.”
“To war, then?”
“To war, tonight! But Tarach stays behind. If you slay me, then he will take my mask.”
“Let him stay. I have no use for him in battle.”
“Done.”
“Done!” Tagon clapped hands with Aballan triumphantly.
Aballan waited until Tagon was out of sight before he allowed himself the uxury of a smirk. Ah, hunters were all alike, loud and blustery and without any cunning beyond what it took to kill a striped pig.
He turned and walked towards his tipi. He would need to rest before the night’s march. His knees ached, and he sweated profusely even in the shade of his tent. This two-month march had torn something in his lungs, and he constantly struggled for breath. No, he woud not survive the coming winter. Perhaps he would not survive this raid. But he would not leave before Tagon. No, it was not Tarach he had planned to have slay Tagon. Tarach had not the stomach for such deeds.
But he did. He would hunt down Blasphemers wherever they hid.
The raid would fail or succeed as Manach willed. That part did not matter.
But the shaman’s line would go on.
Tagon seized his spear and began a new rousing speech. Aballan sighed as he crawled inside the comforting shade of his tipi and lay down to sleep.
Perhaps he would die a shadow-demon come the morning. He had never taken a demon’s life before. Momentarily his fear returned. What if Tagon was wrong? What if the creatures who lived in the rocks were indeed the blessed spirits of Manach?
He reassured himself. Manach’s spirits did not die, but lived forever in his grace. Demons were unholy spawns of false gods. If Tagon struck at an immortal spirit, he would do no harm, and Aballan would strike him down for his blasphemy.
But if the creatures bled... then they were fell beasts... and then they would be killed.
Hansha looked over the small pile of supplies he and Grayling had assembled. Hansha’s blacksmithing tools, Grayling’s weapons, a collection of keepsakes, all were bundled up inside three woven blankets.
“It’s... sad.” Hansha said. “To see your life reduced to three little bags.”
“They’re our possessions, not our life, Hansha.” Grayling kissed his forehead. “By the time the cub is born we’ll be settled in a new home.”
“It will never be Sorrow’s End.”
“No. Just as Sorrow’s End will never be Father Tree. But it will be home in a whole new way.”
Hansha sighed. “Chani says there are many precious metals in the rocks at Oasis – gold, and silver and copper.”
“You’ll have your forge burning again in no time.”
“I know... but...”
They heard a commotion in the distance, and they abandoned the pile of supplies to investigate. In the village square, where once the dancing mats were laid out and the villagers feasted, was now the site of a bonfire. Piled in the flames were elegant woven baskets, tapestries, carved wooden chairs. Alekah, Vurdah, Behtia and Maleen were overseeing the blaze. Wing stood by uncertainly, unwilling to interfere.
“What are you doing?” Grayling demanded. He looked up at the heavy column of smoke. “Why not just stand on the rocks and scream ‘Come and get us, humans!’?”
Alekah was not moved. “We can’t carry everything with us. And we’re not going to let the humans come in and help themselves to our possessions! I won’t have my tapestries become...” she sneered, “trophies to the round-ears!”
Behtia tossed another set of baskets on the fire. “She’s right, Grayling.”
“The smoke is a beacon. It’ll attract every round-ears in the area.”
“They’re coming one way or the other,” Behtia said. “And we won’t be leaving them any gifts.”
**Wing?** Grayling looked over at him.
**I couldn’t really... find a good argument to dissuade them,** Wing sent.
Grayling sighed. “Stoke your fires,” he said at length. “But only if you’re already packed and ready to leave. We go into the tunnel tomorrow.”
Chani helped Savah take down the elaborate tapestries that adorned the walls of her sleeping chamber. “This one is lovely.” Chani stroked the slightly-frayed fibers of a geometric pattern, woven in rick greens and blues.
“Yes, you can take that one,” Savah said. “It... it’s based on a much older one... one that rotted away many years ago. A design to help remind us of the trees and rivers of our ancient home.”
“And this one?” Chani indicated a gold-and-ochre tapestry.
“Leave it,” Savah dismissed with a wave of the hand.
Chani folded the blue and green tapestry and set it on the bed. She unfolded a length of cloth and carefully wrapped up the comb and jars that sat on her dressing table.
“You needn’t bother with such things,” Savah sighed. “They can be replaced.” She owered herself in the chair. “Ohh... it is harder than I thought, to watch a way of life slowly being dismantled.”
“Savah?” Chani walked to her side. “You’re exhausted. Lie down. Rest. Don’t tell me you don’t sleep. Every living thing needs to rest.”
Savah looked at Chani’s hand on her shoulder. She took it in hers, comparing them. Chani’s pale skin was soft, supple against her elegant fingers. By contrast, Savah’s hand looked frail and bony, her skin aged by countless years of heat and toil.
“I’m so weary,” she whispered. “Like Ekuar... I feel my heart slowing with age.”
Chani stroked her unbound hair. “You need a long rest. We’ll coddle you at Oasis. No more being Mother of Memory. No more meditation. Just rest. Take care of yourself first. If you like, I can have Flitrin wrap you up – nothing reinvigorates like some time in wrapstuff. You’ll wake up full of life again, and ready to face a new world.”
“How I secretly hoped against hope... that my Rootless Ones and I had made a home for always. Could I choose... I would choose for it all to end here... in this place of joy, in my sorrow’s end.”
“Savah...” Chani walked around him. “What are you saying? Look at me.”
Savah looked up at her.
“Your children need you.”
“Their father has returned to them.”
Chani stepped back. “Is this what you’ve hoped all along? Was this your plan from the beginning?”
Savah looked away sadly. Her gaze fell on a little statuette sitting on the dressing table. It was a sculpture of her, as she had appeared as a young maiden.
“Yurek made that for you,” Chani said. It was not a question.
Savah smiled, even as tears welled in her eyes.
“I didn’t think you had the power... to so carefully hide the truth in your sendings.”
“Chani...”
Chani turned away abruptly.
“You are still so young,” Savah said. “Your body does not cry out with weariness.”
“You think it was easy for me to take on a body again after so long spent free as air?”
“I think you had a powerful incentive.”
“Savah – you have spoken of new life and new hope. You have convinced your children to abandon this place and risk a journey to a new oasis. Yet all this time you’ve deceived them! You’ve given up hope yourself!”
“The water in my cup is drying up, Chani.”
“No, Savah!” Chani spun back around and took Savah’s hands in hers. “No, I won’t let you die before you die. You’re tired and worn. But you cannot simply... lie down and give up!”
Savah smiled sadly. “We ageless ones think ourselves beyond the cycle of death and rebirth. But I think we have been but deluding ourselves. All things... all creature – even elves... have their appointed times.”
Anger crept into Chani’s features. “I died once, and I knew it was not my appointed time!”
“Yet if your lord died, you would follow without question, rather than be parted, isn’t that true?”
Chani flinched. “We do not speak of death. We are the immortal!”
“You have a child’s conviction.”
“Which I would not trade for all the wisdom of the ages, if wisdom cries out ‘And the wolf lies down!’” Chani turned and bolted from the sleeping chamber, ignoring Savah’s gentle pleas to remain. She ran down the path to the tunnel entrance and brushed past the anxious Sun Folk who peered down into the black hole.
“Haken!”
Haken and Ahdri were at the terminus, Ahdri resting and Haken continuing to shape the rock out of the way. Haken looked over his shoulder and his stern face lit up at the sight of his lifemate.
“Chani. What brings my lady to light up my day–”
“Did you know?” Chani accused. “About Savah?”
Haken’s expression darkened. “I had hoped her mood might lift.”
Ahdri sat at attention. “What? What about Savah?” When Chani would not answer, Ahdri turned on Haken. “What? Tell me!”
“She longs... for rest,” Haken murmured.
“She longs for death!” Chani corrected.
Ahdri’s jaw dropped in horror. She turned on Haken with an accusing glare.
“Why do you think she invited me here?” Haken asked softly.
Chani gasped. Ahdri’s hand rose to her mouth involuntarily.
“By Yurek. Not to guide her... but to take her place.”
“Ahdri–” Haken began, but she had already turned on her heel and was now running back the way Chani had come.
Ahdri found Savah alone in the darkened sleeping chamber. She ran up to the Mother of Memory and wrapped her arms about her shoulders tightly. “You cannot leave us, Mother!” she begged. “You cannot ask us to go without you to lead us.”
Tears streaked Savah’s cheeks, but she maintained her composure. “Oh, my dear Ahdri...”
“We need you. We cannot live on without you.”
“You have all grown too dependent on me, I fear. But every child must leave the nest in time. You must all learn to grow.”
Ahdri was weeping now. “Savah....”
“Hush, sweet one. The pull of the world has wearied me... worn away my strength. I feel myself... fading away. But do not fear. For even if we are parted... I will always be here... with Yurek.”
“No!” Ahdri pulled away. “No, Savah. You cannot.” She fell to her knees at the base of Savah’s chair. “We are selfish children to ask this. But we cannot lose our Mother of Memory. We cannot build anew if we have lost our roots. Yes, roots, for we’ve grown them all the same. Savah, I beg you, if you cannot live for yourself, then live for us. All things must pass in their own times – I know that, I know that!” she beat her forehead against Savah’s knees as if in penance. “But stay with us, a little longer. Help us make this transition. Please, Mother. Don’t leave us now.”
Savah stroked her close-cropped hair. “Oh, Ahdri... how I long to be strong... for you all. But I feel... so faint. Like a dying ember.”
“Let us help you. Let me help you. You’ve borne the burden alone for too long.”
“Daughter of Memory...” Savah smiled fondly. “Tomorrow will be our last day. Tomorrow will come Sorrow’s Fall.”
“You must come with us. Or else the sorrow will never end!”
Savah closed her eyes tight. “The way of mothers... to bear the heaviest burdens without complaint...”
“You must come with us to Oasis,” Ahdri repeated, her face buried in the lap of Savah’s gown. “Please, Savah. See us through this storm.”
At length a long sigh escaped the Mother of Memory. “What mother can deny her children? I will live, Ahdri. I will follow Haken and lead you to Oasis. And then... safe in the knowledge that you have begun to rebuild... then I will rest. And I will see Yurek once more.”
Ahdri sat back on her heels, her eyes red with tears. Gracefully, Savah rose from her chair and strode over to the rock wall. She put her hand to the rock and smiled at the warmth she felt underneath. “Soon... lifemate.” She touched her forehead to the sandstone. “Soon we will be together. But I have one more task to attend to first.”
The tunnel now extended nearly four times the walk from the village square to the Bridge of Destiny. As the sun began to set, Haken and Door began a last desperate push against the ancient rock.
“The sooner we are far from here the better,” Door growled under his breath. “I don’t trust this healer when she says Spar has four moons to go. She needs to rest, away from all this whirl of activity.”
Haken smiled in the darkness. “You’ve fathered the first in a new race of Gliders, Fenn. No small honour.”
The rock under Haken’s hand peeled away abruptly, folding out and away at a frantic rate. Fresh air rushed in, and the sudden pressure change knocked both Gliders over. The rock wall in front of them was gone, replaced by a wide opening that let in the light of the waning Daystar. They had broken through to the shallow gravel plain far beyond the Bridge of Destiny.
“Fine work, Grandfather,” Door stammered.
“It was not my doing.” Haken touched the smooth rock at the edge of the tunnel. A lingering warmth remained, and Haken smiled softly.
“Savah’s lifemate.... Of course, one final gift.” Haken stepped out into the late afternoon air. Smoking Mountain stood on the horizon, a steep pyramid of rock.
“One last night here, Fenn,” he murmured. “Then we go home.”
Grayling and the Jackwolf Riders took up their final night’s patrol around the protective rocks. “One more night,” Grayling whispered to Hansha as he left his lifemate’s side to join the Riders. “Tomorrow evening, we leave for our new home.”
“I can’t believe the kitling will never see this place.”
“We’ll come back and show it to him one day,” Grayling insisted, summoning a brave smile. “The Bridge of Destiny will always be here, no matter how many humans pass this way.”
Aballan chewed on the medicinal leaves, hoping to coax a little strength into his aching limbs. As the sun began to dip behind the mountains, Tagon marshalled his full force of a hundred and fifty warriors. “We march!” he shouted. “We march for glory. We march for Manach’s grace! Free your souls now, warriors, for we march under the cloak of silence!”
The warriors cheered and whooped, raising their spears high overhead.
“One more march,” Aballan sighed to himself. “One more task...”
“Tomorrow the demons will burn!” Tagon shouted.
Tomorrow I face my god, Aballan thought.
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