The forgotten stone, p.12
The Forgotten Stone, page 12
Levavin leadership also wanted a historian along. The most highly respected historian of the Ecyah Stone was a man named Len Mandon, but unfortunately Len had fallen ill and was not well enough to travel. Baron suggested Len’s daughter who could go in his stead, a young woman who had applied herself to her father’s studies and was nearly as acquainted with the knowledge and legends of the stone as her father. Kilith suggested they promptly invite her to join them, but Baroness Jenulia insisted on going personally to Len’s daughter, Mereámé Mandon, and requesting her participation one on one. Enouim got the feeling Mereámé might take some convincing.
The following day the members of the Ecyah mission assembled in a circle as before with Baron Javen, Baroness Jenulia, and three other officials. They had received word that Malum Khoron-khelek had heard of the mission and sent tribesmen to enlist help in impeding their progress. Most of the nomads surrounding Levav were on good terms with the Levavin and would be of assistance if Levav requested it, but others would likely sell their services to the highest bidder.
Between the time spent in Kalka’an and the three weeks in Levav, the head start the group had begun with was ebbing away. In the meantime, Gorgenbrild had been totally choked off from the rest of the world by the Khoron-khelek’s Sumus, and he had demanded enormous tribute be paid for the honor of being absorbed into his empire and protected from him. Resources were dwindling and their circumstances were becoming increasingly desperate.
The baroness had spoken with Mereámé the previous day and she had been considering the proposal, but upon receiving word of how time-sensitive the matter was, she was summoned posthaste and would be joining them any minute. Canukke was listing exploits to persuade Levav to keep the details of their mission as quiet as possible.
“Torture, ha! They didn’t know the meaning of the word. Secrets in need of keeping are in no safer vault than with me,” he said. “If I had dispelled the information I had too early, I never would have uncovered the betrayal in time. A weasel for Morthed was all he was. That might have been three years ago, but ears and eyes remain everywhere, and this time Morthed isn’t the only threat. Khoron-khelek is a plague that must be wiped out, and we don’t know who else we can trust.”
The doors opened and a young woman entered. Close to Enouim’s height, she had olive skin, long features, and beautiful dark eyes beneath thick lashes. She wore a flowing deep purple garment, fitted at the top and flowing seamlessly into wide trousers so that at first glance it looked like a long dress. Sandals kicked up the hem as she walked, at once effortless and soft—out of place among the warriors. She gave a nervous smile and looked about uncomfortably.
“Welcome, Mereámé,” Jenulia said warmly.
“Thank you!” Mereámé made eye contact with Jenulia, and her entire face and demeanor lit up. “Has something changed?” Enouim thought her voice was unhurried and pensive, emulating the experience one has hearing a flight of doves lift off from the earth.
“Yes and no.” Javen sighed with a hand to his forehead. “The enterprise has not, but the timeline has. It seems we may not have the luxury of time we thought we had. Please, be seated, and meet your companions.”
Canukke introduced himself quickly, then Kilith, Gabor, Oloren, Enouim, Vadik, and Baird. “From Kalka’an?” she asked, glancing at Jenulia.
“Yes,” Jenulia answered for him, “But not that one.”
Mereámé nodded and looked up at Ruakh. “I’m glad to see you here.”
“Good to see you again, Mereámé,” he responded with a smile. “We are grateful for your presence!”
“My father would be better fit for this mission than I,” Mereámé said. “And there are more historians. Are we sure …”
“No one is better suited for this than you,” Javen said. “Len Mandon is the best of the best, and you are most certainly your father’s daughter. We would not ask if it were not urgent.”
Mereámé dipped her head and spoke slowly. “I fear leaving Levav at a time like this, with my father in his condition. If he had not insisted, I would have remained with him, but I admit it would fulfill a dream of both my father’s and my own if we succeeded. Finding and restoring the Eh’yeh Stone would heal our lands and refresh our souls. It is for this reason that I put my comforts aside, turning instead to the yearning in my heart after the Eh’yeh Stone.”
“Your strength is our strength,” responded Ruakh, dipping his head in respect.
The other Levavin officials echoed, “Your strength is our strength.”
“Thank you,” Enouim said to Mereámé. “That must be hard.”
“We should focus on the going, then,” Canukke said, eager to return the subject to his own purposes. “As you have heard, I am more than competent to lead us beyond the river, and would hope to get a week behind us before the nomads of the region are alerted to our purpose. I have led perilous pursuits all over the mountains, and have traveled to the heart of Morthed. Neither man nor beast has yet hindered our progress, and it would be best to keep our intentions well concealed.”
Enouim spoke up again. “If something must be said, perhaps a general approval of our mission, while omitting the nature of it, would do.”
“That we can manage, I believe,” Javen responded, nodding thoughtfully. “At least for a time. Know that we will have eyes and ears waiting and watching to hear word of you as you continue your work, but we will be discreet and certainly not pass along more than we deem necessary. Not all nomads are the same, and there are some more loyal than others.”
“Excellent.” Kilith slapped his hands on his knees. “Now, I imagine we should leave at once. Might our horses be readied and packed while we finish here?”
“Yes,” Jenulia answered, “it is being done as we speak.”
Mereámé blinked. “Today?”
“Within the hour, I should hope,” Oloren said. “Without knowing who has been commissioned to come after us, and with the length of our stay already, time is of the essence. Our presence will not have gone unnoticed.”
Canukke nodded. “Indeed, it is.”
Enouim and Baird made eye contact and tried not to smile. Indeed, Baird subtly mouthed.
Enouim had remained upset with Baird for some time, but after the incident, they grieved together, and Enouim had seen raw emotion she knew could not be faked. His intention had been to prove his mettle as a leader and strategist. The plan had gone horribly wrong, and the crushing consequences of his actions weighed heavily on Baird. He had been the picture of cooperation and respectfulness ever since, though certainly a downtrodden version. She knew what he did was wrong, but he was hurting as deeply as the rest of them. Enouim was grateful to see a bit of his spunk returning.
“It is decided, then,” Jenulia said, rising. “We will see to it that your provisions are well stocked for the sparse lands you venture through next, and we will reach out to our nomadic friends with a general blessing. They are not always friendly with strangers. Your horses will be ready for you, and we will leave you to gather your things.”
14
Vadik was practically giddy as the guards returned their weapons. “I was dreaming of a beautiful companion last night,” he said. “She was slender, perfectly formed, always at my side. And now she is again!” He hoisted his spear in the air triumphantly.
Oloren raised an eyebrow. “You dreamed of a companion constantly trying to leave you as quickly as possible? Sounds about right!”
“She always comes back to me one way or another.” He winked. “They always do.”
“I suppose we can’t all have standards.” Baird laughed.
Kilith rolled his eyes. “Careful with that thing. No need to cause any more trouble before we leave.”
Ruakh traveled with only his staff, a small bag, and the clothes on his back. Mereámé changed into travel clothes, bid her father farewell, and apologized profusely for the time it took for her to get to the stables with her pack. Enouim breathed in the scent of leather and horses, and sighed as a soft breeze comforted her grieving soul.
Nine had entered, and nine now departed, but two had been lost. An odd mix of emotions hung in the air like a dank mist. Relief to be back on the road mingled with the freshness that two new members brought to the team, almost as if the slate had been wiped clean to begin again. And yet the slate still retained memory of what had once been written there and could not shake the emptiness Pakel and Silas left behind.
The group crossed the bridge to the other side of the moat, and Oloren slid off her horse. She took Pakel’s karambit off her belt, which she had demanded after his passing, and marked the ground with it. Along with her Gorgenbrilder companions, Enouim silently slipped off her horse, and each of them cut off a shaving off their belt and dropped it into the symbol Oloren had drawn into the earth.
“What are they doing?” Enouim heard Mereámé ask Ruakh from behind them.
“It is the tradition of Gorgenbrilders honoring their fallen far from home,” he answered in a hushed tone. “The belt holds necessary items of protection, holding close to the warrior all that is dear, always bound to the body. A comrade in arms is the greatest form of protection a warrior can have, and no accessory can outweigh him. The brother whose blood was spilled in honor and sacrifice is dearer than any personal item, and the loss is to be bound to the mind forever.”
Oloren was first to complete the gesture, and then Vadik, following suit with tears running unbidden down his face. He made valiant efforts to return his face to the stoic expressions of his friends, with only limited success. Kilith, Canukke, Enouim, and Gabor put their shavings in as well, and a heaviness fell on Enouim’s shoulders as she realized this was the first shaving off her belt and may very well not be her last.
Baird observed closely, and after those from Pakel’s own people had honored him, he dismounted, cut off a sliver of his own belt, placed it among the others, and touched his right arm to the tattoo of his Kalka’an rank and accomplishments. He moved his hand from his left arm to the shavings on the ground, denoting the elevation of rank to the deceased as was the custom of Kalka’an toward their fallen. Mereámé looked questioningly at Ruakh, who nodded at her as both reached to slice off a shaving from their belts in solidarity with their new cohorts.
A tangible change fell over the company as they rode out. Sacrifice and death for the cause had risen from a safe, theoretical bravery far from the fragile unknown of tomorrow to something that hovered over the future like an inevitable gray cloud just waiting to rain. A loud twig snapped under Inferno’s hooves making Enouim jump as the real threat of danger began to manifest in the shadows.
Despite the emotional climate, the weather was fair and the sky a deep blue with clouds of different shapes stretched across the horizon. In one direction wispy cirrus clouds reached toward an uncertain future with blissful ignorance, and in the other, a strangely regular pattern of small white marks seemed to track their progress with mathematical footsteps. Greenery thinned into yellow grasses with occasional trees dotting the plain ahead.
Canukke’s irritable, brooding mood ebbed when Oloren came to ride beside him at the head of the party. Vadik and Baird rode together in pensive, painful silence and seemed to have bonded through the tremendous guilt they each carried over Pakel. Kilith had called Gabor up with him and to speak about the events of Levav and the road ahead, taking Gabor under his wing. Enouim was left to ride with the newcomers, Ruakh and Mereámé.
Morning faded into afternoon, and as the day progressed, Enouim decided she could stay in her head no longer. “Beautiful horse,” she said to Ruakh, who rode a deep bay mare with a shiny coat and a peaceful demeanor that seemed comparable to his own personality.
“Thank you,” Ruakh responded, almost with surprise as she brought him from his thoughts. “Her name is Sky. When I first encountered her, she was terribly distrustful toward everyone. You wouldn’t believe it now, but she has more scars hidden beyond those big brown eyes than she has on her body and legs. She is my reminder of resilience every day.”
Enouim scanned Sky quickly and noticed some faded scarring. “What happened to her?”
Ruakh sighed and furrowed his brow. “She was found left for dead after a syndicate of perasors swooped down on the nomadic group that owned her then. Of course, perasors generally hunt fish and scavenge carcasses, but carrion was running low and fires had destroyed their favorite roosting areas. Sky was grazing in the open when a whole group descended en masse.”
Enouim scrunched her forehead in confusion. “Wow. So um … what exactly are perasors? Birds?”
“Oh! Apologies. You don’t have perasors up your way I imagine,” Ruakh replied. “Yes, they are birds, but … also no. Their size would make ‘beast’ a rather apt description as well. They have large beaks, but no feathers, and they have wings, but more like a bat than anything else. Many are just a few inches shorter than you or me, with a wingspan of thirty feet from wingtip to wingtip. If a bird, a bat, and a reptile got together and then magnified its size, I would venture that this is what would result.”
Enouim stared at him. They could run into reptile bird bats?
“Anyway,” he continued as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on Enouim’s brain, “my Sky was there, and the perasors attacked. The nomads, Pyren nomads to be exact, mixed some of their powders and lit them on fire, tossing them at the perasors. The spark is only a catalyst, but the combination creates a strong smell and a cloud of smoke which generally drives the beasts away. Perasors are venomous, and the Pyren requested my help to restore their steeds to health before it was too late. I was able to save most of them, and they are grateful to me. Sky here was in horrendous shape, and as it turns out, an abusive individual owned her prior to the incident. The Pyren take animal cruelty very seriously, and when they found out, dealt harshly with him, and once I stopped the venom I was permitted to keep her.”
“You refused payment for your help, didn’t you?” Mereámé asked. “Except for Sky.”
“Yes, well, I took a liking to her. She had a tough time of it and was in no condition to leave with the rest of them, so I asked if I could keep her with me. Sky reminds me of myself, and in healing her wounds and working salve into her spirit, I found my own healing too. Perhaps if she can weather her experiences and learn to trust again, so can I.”
A beat of silence.
Mereámé turned to Enouim. “What a beautiful horse you have, as well.”
“Thank you. He is a Kalka’an stallion, one of their best. His name is Inferno.” Inferno tossed his head, proud to have the topic shift to himself for a change.
And so the three of them spoke of horses and lands traveled. Enouim shared of her journey so far since Gorgenbrild, and Ruakh told of the desert, the flatlands, nomads, mysterious creatures, and life in Levav. Mereámé had traveled with her father as a child but had stayed in Levav for years since. She listened to Ruakh’s tales with nearly as much rapture as Enouim did.
For the first several hours, they moved in a relatively straight line, then they edged in close to the river, waiting for a place to cross. This river also fed the Levavin moat and was quite forceful in some areas. Enouim dreaded crossing it. She rubbed the scars on the back of her neck nervously, wishing she had brought watertight bandages to place over them. Once when she was small, she had forgotten the bandage before bathing. The cold water was a shock, but it was the sudden, stinging pain in her neck that held her memory.
The scars were strangely symmetrical, three small slash marks on either side of her neck, and then a single scar crossing over one of the slashes and draping slightly down her right collarbone. Enouim ran her thumb across this scar now, thinking about the river. Her parents told her she’d been stung by some sort of creature in the water where her father had found her, abandoned. She was only a baby at the time. Would the water hurt her now? Pakel had noticed her fear of water in Levav when he helped her into one of the little boats, and Enouim found herself wishing he were there now.
Ruakh and Mereámé assured the company they would reach a narrow section in the river the following day. Canukke and Kilith decided they would rather cross the river before stopping to sleep, so the troop stopped for a rest to prepare for a long night of riding. Baird and Vadik sat together with Gabor, and Enouim joined them, glad to see them in better spirits.
“Hordes, what an interesting mix we are now!” Vadik said. “Gorgenbrild, Kalka’an, and Levav, all riding together. Tell us, what is it like for you Levavin to be coming along with us?”
The corner of Enouim’s mouth curled up at hearing Vadik’s normal exuberance. Spending the day on the road with Baird seemed to have shaken some of the dust from his plagued mind.
“Well,” Mereámé began, “My heart is torn, as I mentioned back in Levav, because my father is not doing well. Knowing I may lose him while away is painful, though it would be harder still for him if the Eh’yeh Stone were within our grasp and I allowed it to remain in obscurity. It is the heartbeat of our people and would restore the brokenness within our walls.”
“The stone is Gorgenbrild’s,” Canukke put in. “It is rightfully ours and will remain so.”
“I believe the agreement was for Gorgenbrild to take hold of it, and once the darkness is lifted from your land, it would return to Levav,” Ruakh said softly. “However, you may find it more difficult to wield than you imagine. The stone is not a weapon like any other. It cannot be bent to any will but its own.”
“It has a mind of its own, you say?” Baird asked.
“It does. Better we conform to it, than attempt to conform it to us.”
“What does it mean?” Enouim asked. “It seems you see it as a lifestyle almost. But it’s a stone.”
