Chapter 14 – Flight

Light sifted down through the woven roof, almost tangible, like a brush of feathers against my face. A faint, cool breeze stirred the blue tendrils. I felt the breath on my cheek and opened my eyes, gazing up at the roof. The swaying vines stirred some memory buried deep inside of me, and my heart ached.

It was just such a morning in mid-spring. I was only five or six. The gentle tinkling of wind chimes drifted back to me…the rainbow vision of early sunlight dancing through a painted glass unicorn. I had helped Mom paint the sun catcher the night before, and then watched as Dad put the chimes together. We’d hung it up way past my bedtime, and I had lain awake for hours listening to the delicate, melancholy sound.

In the morning I found my dad sitting on the glider out on the porch, drinking his coffee and poring over a book. I traipsed out in pajamas and enormously fuzzy pink slippers, and when I climbed onto the glider he set aside his book and wrapped his arms around me against the morning cool.

“What were you reading, Daddy?”

“Oh, a book for school, darling,” he said, and I remember the rumble of his voice against his chest.

“What book?”

“Well, it tells the story of people many, many years ago. About battles they fought, and places they went, and things they did.”

“Will you read it to me, Daddy?”

He laughed, that wonderful sound I cherished more than any other, and kissed me on the head. “Perhaps when you are older.”

He had said something then, in some language I didn’t know. But suddenly, lying in Enhyla’s hut with the memory vivid in my mind, I jolted. I heard his voice, speaking those words, but now I understood them:

“It is the tale of your people, my daughter, and someday I shall teach it to you.”

My spine tingled, and my eyes blurred with tears. I let my memory drift forward, to a stormy night in late autumn. The wind chimes tossed in shrill cacophony on the gusting wind, and the rain slanted in under the porch awning. Dad had just left the house, and stood bathed in the pool of warm, golden light from the open door.

“Daddy, why are you going?”

His eyes, so dark and sad.

“It is as it must be,” he murmured, “and where I am going, you must follow.”

A gasping sob startled me out of the memory, and I sat bolt upright shaking all over. My gaze fell on Damian, slumped against the inner wall where he had fallen asleep the night before. I was glad I hadn’t woken him up. Everything was quiet in the other room, and I realized it must still be early. I picked myself up and pushed some furs toward Damian. Biting my lip, I moved him gently so that he could lie down. He didn’t wake up – he always slept like a rock. I slipped out through the gap in the trunks and crept as quietly as I could away from the hut.

“You’re up early.”

I swung around and found Yatol sitting under a nearby tree. He looked like he’d been there some time, alone, deep in thought. For some reason the sight of him dragged my heart to my throat. More than anything I wished I could understand the melancholy in his eyes.

“I’m glad to see you up,” he added. “How do you feel?”

That seemed encouraging – almost like he was asking for my company. I made my way over and sat down, not too close but as close as I dared.

“What was wrong with me? I feel better, but still kind of strange.”

He sighed. “It’s difficult, to make the voyage to this world. There’s a price to be paid for that freedom.”

“Is Pyelthan what lets me travel here to Arah Byen?”

“No. If only it were that simple. You can call open the portal because you have that gift. Because you’re a daughter of this land.”

His words sent a sudden chill through my veins. I shivered and drew up my knees, resting my chin on them.

“Yatol, why haven’t I ever seen any children or women here?”

“You haven’t seen much of anyone since you came. Most of the people have all retreated to the city beyond the Perstaun.”

“A city!”

“Alcalon. It’s a beautiful city, the crown of Arah Byen, the king’s city. I’ve only been there once myself, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It could probably hold most of our people comfortably within its walls. So when the Ungulion began this last assault, we sent as many of the people as we could to take shelter there. Maybe they can hold out in a siege, if it comes to that. We’ve been trying to hold our borders against the Ungulion, but it doesn’t make any difference. Every day they seem to get a little closer.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking. He seemed fairly talkative, and I wondered how long he would tolerate my curiosity. What I really wanted to know seemed so ridiculous, so completely unimportant, that I couldn’t imagine asking it. Here we were in the middle of some kind of world-ending war, and there was just one question burning in my mind like the whole fate of the universe depended on his answer.

“Do you have anyone there?” I blurted before I could stop myself. Then, ears burning, I added quickly, “I mean, your family? I know you have Tyhlaur here…”

He sat very still for a moment, hands clasped loosely on his knees, eyes flooded with pain.

“No. No one,” he said carefully.

I couldn’t even breathe an inward sigh of relief, he seemed so sad.

“My mother lived in Alcalon for two years until her death, and she was a widow. And…my sister. She would now be almost your age, if she still lived.”

“I’m so sorry, Yatol,” I murmured, when I could force myself to speak. He nodded, but had his eyes fixed on his hands. “What happened to her?”

“She gave her life to save Tyhlaur and me,” he said, hoarse, after the silence had drawn out too long for comfort.

I bit my lower lip to stop its trembling. For a minute I got the crazy idea that I could give him a hug. But then Yatol leaned his head back against the tree, eyes closed, and suddenly forcing a hug on him seemed like the worst idea in the world.

I wandered back to Enhyla’s hut. As I drew nearer I noticed the ivy curtain swinging in the doorway. Someone had just left…or arrived. I had almost reached the hut when a cold rush of dread washed over me, like a black wind sweeping through the forest. All my blood plunged to my feet, and I sprinted the rest of the way.

When I hit the threshold I halted, so suddenly that I had to grab one of the tree-posts for support. Just in front of me a man stood breathless, gripping a small shiv in one bloodied fist and a half-spear in the other. His feet were bare, as if he hadn’t had time to put on shoes. Blood oozed from the sole of his left foot, pooling around his heel. He didn’t seem to notice it. He bowed over, trying to catch his breath, while Enhyla stood anxiously before him. Tyhlaur poured him a drink from an earthenware pitcher, and the man took it with a nod of thanks.

“Khymranna,” Enhyla said.

“They overwhelmed us, Lord! They have pushed even into the Branhau, up toward Urith’s camp. His men retreat even as we speak. They cannot hold them at all! And my lord Talotyl is slain.” The man leaned over again, shaking his head. I could barely hear him say, “They are headed this way, Lord.”

I didn’t wait to hear anything else. I spun around and raced back to Yatol. He saw my face and got slowly to his feet.

“Merelin, what is it?”

“Khymranna,” I gasped. “The Ungulion have breached the Branhau. His lord was killed, and Urith’s camp is threatened. He said they’re coming this way.” I searched for some shred of consolation in his face, but found none. “We have to go now.”

Yatol nodded, and we flew back to Enhyla’s hut. We found Enhyla throwing provisions in leather sacks, Tyhlaur arming himself. As we came in, he tossed a long spear and bow to Yatol. Damian and Kurtis stood rooted by the far wall, alarmed by the sudden frenzy of activity. I ran over to them.

“The Ungulion are coming! We have to go, now!”

And I left them to grab my little pouch. As I came out from the back room, Yatol met me holding his thin, curved blade.

“Here, Merelin. I want you to take this. I pray you never have to use it, but if you do, it will give you some defense.”

I swallowed and took it, holding the smooth white hilt and running my fingers over the milky blade, shining like mother-of-pearl. Beautiful and sinister. I wanted to thank him but couldn’t find my voice. It didn’t matter. He had already left me. He went to Khymranna, regarding him silently for a moment.

“They overwhelmed you?” he murmured at last.

At first I thought he meant Urith’s camp, but then realized he addressed the word to Khymranna alone. Khymranna didn’t so much as glance up, but nodded his dark head slightly.

“Come with us! We can help you.”

Khymranna straightened, gazing at our little group gathered by the doorway. I noticed that his eyes had that same indescribable light that shone in Yatol’s, the light I had never seen in the eyes of any other person. He shook his head fiercely.

“I am spent, Yatol. Go. It is my hour.” He bowed his head, and his muscles tightened. “I will stay for the defense. It is my gift to you. Go while you have time.”

I couldn’t understand the sudden grief that flashed over Yatol’s face.

“Khymranna…”

Khymranna glanced up at him and nodded, a slow, meaningful nod. Yatol winced, but they clasped each other’s shoulders, and as Yatol withdrew he stooped in a bow. My heart ached seeing that strange farewell. But I could only cast one puzzled glance back at Khymranna before I followed the others out into the forest.

We fled back toward the Perstaun, while behind us a chorus of shrieks and wails echoed from every part of the forest. I would have stopped and turned to see, but Yatol came beside me and took my arm.

In my ear I heard his voice, thin and strained: “Don’t look back.”

We ran on. Suddenly, I don’t know why, I drew up and glanced to the side, just in time to see Yatol and Tyhlaur fading into the undergrowth. They hardly made a sound, and then they were gone. I lurched to a stop. I wanted to call after them, or even to run after them, but Enhyla clasped my shoulders and propelled me forward.

“Do not fear for them, child! It is their task. Come! We must run a while longer yet.”

I cast one last unhappy glance back and quickened my pace. It seemed we ran forever. My lungs burned and my hands started shaking. Just as my vision began to cloud over, Enhyla slowed to a walk. I stumbled after him, taking gulps of air that felt like emptiness in my lungs. We walked a little way, then Enhyla waved us toward a clump of trees.

“We will rest here and wait for them,” he said.

We all collapsed on the ground, gasping and coughing. I don’t think we’d run very far or fast. But the fear and uncertainty that hounded us made it seem like we’d run a marathon in five minutes. It took a lot longer for my nerves to calm than the racing of my heart. Damian moved to sit beside me. His blonde hair hung damp with sweat, but his face seemed rather paler than normal. He wasn’t really winded, but he took deep, deliberate breaths through clenched teeth. For a few moments he just sat there next to me, staring at the forest as though he didn’t really see it. Finally he cocked his head to look at me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“You okay, Mer?”

I nodded. I realized I was shaking. “I’ll be okay, in a minute.”

Kurtis moved the mat of silky brown hair off his forehead, blowing on his face as he tried to regain his composure. When he had collected himself enough to speak, he asked, “Where did Yatol and Tyhlaur go?”

“I don’t know.”

I scanned the forest around us. Dead calm, as though there wasn’t a single living being in it. Even the light seemed muted, almost pitch black back the way we had come.

“Where did they go, Enhyla?”

“They went to gather information.”

I swallowed hard. “They’re spying on the Ungulion? Is it dangerous? Will they be all right?”

“Of course it is dangerous,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “But they have done it for many years. Do not fear for them.”

“Is it safe for us, waiting here for them?”

“They will stay in front of the force, so even if they keep pace with the Ungulion, they will reach us sooner than the enemy. The Ungulion are marching now. They will likely send out dispatches, to gather all the living so they can be driven toward Alcalon. Those divisions will go with speed. But the main force has taken the slow, steady pace of a deploying march.”

“And the Ungulion? Yatol and Tyhlaur have weapons, and Yatol gave me a blade, but the Ungulion seem dead. At least, I can’t imagine that they’re actually alive. These weapons wouldn’t hurt them, would they?”

“We don’t know what their nature is, exactly. Some life burns in them, but neither are they living. Certainly not. What weapons we have can delay them, but they do not actually wound them.” He gazed at me keenly. “That is one of the dangers of being a runner. Not only do you go out and gather information, but when there is an attack, you remain and stave off the enemy until the others have had time to withdraw.”

I sighed unhappily. “But I wish he was here.”