Oasis
Part Three: Sorrow's Challenge
“Is it true?” Grayling demanded.
Chani looked up from the loom at the Jackwolf chieftain, flanked by Venka and Ahdri. “True? Now, you should know that truth varies from speaker to speaker.”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true? That Haken and I intend to lure the Sun Folk here and enslave them? I can assure you, that is pure fantasy. Do you like my handiwork?” she indicated the long sheet of cotton she was creating. “Spar has been trying to teach me. But no matter what I do, an imperfection or two always slips in.” She fingered the weave, frowning at a tangle in the fabric. “Ahh, I am a hunter, not a crafter. I should know better.”
“Where is Haken?” Venka asked.
Chani glanced over her shoulder. “Would you really want to discuss this with him?” she smiled. “At any rate, he is out hunting with Door.”
“Is Windkin right?” Ahdri asked. “Do you wish to rebuild Blue Mountain with the Sun Folk and your new tribe?”
“We wish to aid the Sun Folk, in any way we can.”
“How?” Venka asked.
“That is for the Sun Folk to decide.”
“But this mountain – this valley – it is too big for four elves and one unborn child,” Venka pressed. “Your oasis is big enough to hold all the Sun Folk.”
“Yes. And unlike Sorrow’s End, it is already well fortified against human assaults.”
Venka drew in a breath. “Ah. Now I understand. Savah warned me to keep an open mind. She told me the village would need Haken. This was her idea, was it not?”
“You know her well.” Chani gave a little nod. “Yes. Haken and I first found this place years ago, during our long journey south to find our lost child. And we recognized it for what it was – a sanctuary, a foundation for a new vision. At first we thought we and Door might make it our home. But then we found Door’s young mate. And then, as we brought them here to see the oasis, Haken encountered Savah’s presence. She told us of the difficulties her tribe faced.”
“And you realized that Oasis could solve all of Sorrow’s End problems,” Grayling whispered.
Chani rose from her seat next to the horizontal loom. “Savah has told us of your efforts to raise a mountain wall around the village, Ahdri. Truly the powers of the Firstcomers are alive in you. But it’s only a temporary measure, is it not? The humans are evolving faster than we might have imagined. Already they are attempting to build trading empires across the land. The Hoan-G’Tay-Sho Door drove out of the Forevergreen are building settlements along the coastline, far to the west. Your humans seem quite intent on colonizing the mountains of Sorrow’s End to provide a clear trading path to the eastern forests. The time will come... sooner than we might have guessed, when Sorrow’s End will become a hidden village, surrounded by human camps.”
Grayling set his jaw. No, that was one future he was determined to prevent. Chani noticed his expression. “I see that possibility disgusts you as well. Our kind does well to avoid humans. But Sorrow’s End is a poor hiding place. You will entomb yourselves in shaped rock before long.”
“And how will moving here change anything?” Ahdri asked.
“Look around you. These mountains are too steep and too remote for humans. We chose this site well. If it’s contact with the sea and the forests south you want, the easiest route is two days’ journey west, hugging the coastline. If you’d prefer to travel east-west, there is a low-lying mountain pass a day north of here. And a deep river canyon two days to the south. The natural rock barriers that surround the oasis required little rockshaping from Haken and Door. Spar’s needle-fields provide another almost natural barrier. There is ample earth for fields in the valley, and land to the northwest where more farming plots can be established. It’s a perfect sanctuary.”
“Sorrow’s End is home!” Ahdri insisted.
Chani nodded. “And that’s why all the Sun Folk must have a chance to decide.”
“Every elf having a voice,” Venka spoke. “A new concept for your ‘lord.’”
“You don’t know Haken. You can’t begin to understand him.”
“I’ve felt enough of his mind to know what drives him.”
“Mmm, and Timmain helped you frame your knowledge, I’ve no doubt. And I’ve no doubt she believes what she says about him. That he’s wantonly cruel, hungry for power above all else, and prepared to kill indiscriminately to enforce his will. But truth is a most malleable thing, is it not? Like the wind, it carries a different scent, depending on its direction.”
“Yes, and you shape your own truth very carefully,” Venka said.
“Will you offer us safe passage to Sorrow’s End?” Chani asked. “Or will you declare yourselves defenders of the innocent flock, and stand against us?”
“Then we would be denying the Sun Folk the choice you offer them,” Grayling said. “That was a poor trap, easily sprung, Lady Chani.”
Chani smiled. “I’d have been most disappointed had you said otherwise.”
“Savah has invited you to Sorrow’s End,” Venka said. “And escort you to Sorrow’s End we will. But you’ll forgive us if we are just as braced for combat as you and your lord.”
Chani gave her a little bow of the head. “Good hunters always are.”
* * *
Savah sat in the darkened alcove just beyond her meditation chamber. The Little Palace sat on its pedestal, humming softly with accompanying pulses of light. Savah smiled. “They are coming home.”
At her side, Leetah bit her lip. “What do you see in there, Mother of Memory?”
“Many things, child. Distant lands growing closer... past and future beginning to merge...”
“I’m afraid, Mother of Memory. We’ve known peace for so long... and now comes darkness and the threat of war. Will things ever be... normal again, Savah?”
“What is ‘normal’ my child, but the movement of the seasons and the changing of the land? Normal is change.”
“Too much change.”
“Nothing can be changeless, dear Leetah. Light cannot be kindled in isolation.”
“The father of the Black Snake cannot come here! He will destroy everything we have built.”
“Perhaps he will...” Savah whispered. “But destruction is simply another step on creation’s path.”
“We cannot let our way of life be destroyed!”
Savah sighed sadly. “A lesson I learned long ago... and one our friends the Wolfriders constantly remind me... to survive one must adapt to change... embrace the moment, not cling to the past. One must adapt... or perish.”
The Little Palace shivered. “Ahh!” Savah smiled.
“What is it?”
“We have a visitor, I think.”
Savah rose from his seat and walked to the doorway of her hut, Leetah close on her heels. They took the path towards the outskirts of the village, following the excited shouts of the farmers.
The Palace had already disappeared, but the faint static tingle lingered in the air. Weatherbird was calmly striding down the path, a travelling bag slung over her shoulder.
“Savah,” she smiled.
“Why, this is a surprise, kitling. What brings you here to Sorrow’s End – and without your gallant lifemate?”
“You’re expecting some company, aren’t you? Aunt Venka asked for me to help you... welcome him.”
“Ah.” Savah nodded. Yes, of all the younger elves, Sunstream’s daughter was surely the most likely to achieve some level of empathy with their most volatile guest. “You are a most welcome ambassador. But where is your guardian?”
Weatherbird laughed. “Well, we decided Cheipar might be... a bit of a distraction.” She shifted the bag on her shoulder, and Leetah offered to take it from her. Weatherbird smiled and handed the bag over. Leetah frowned as she hefted it far more easily than she had imagined.
Weatherbird shrugged. “I travel light.”
The journey back to Sorrow’s End was filled with just as much tension and uncertainty as the journey south, yet for different reasons. At times there were two travelling parties, not one. While Spar happily rode alongside her old tribemates atop a great horned antelope called a crescent-horn, Door kept to the air above with Windkin, and Haken and Chani often disappeared for the greater part of each day, reappearing as the pack stopped to rest, only to camp at a great distance from the others.
Timmain abandoned her gown and took to her jackwolf form exclusively. A more alert guard there never was. She never slept, but paced about her companions day and night, as if anticipating an attack.
The tension between mother and daughter was excruciating, and Grayling marvelled how the two could pass each other without so much as an acknowledgement of the others’ presence. Whenever in camp, Haken maintained a careful distance from Timmain at all times. Her one attempt to make peace was rudely rebuffed. It was the third day of travel north and Timmain had caught a small deer-like creature, barely larger than a fat forest ravvit. She snapped the animal in two at the hips and carried the rich hindquarters over to Haken and Chani. With a cautious wag of her tail, she laid it on the ground next to Haken’s feet.
Haken sneered. “You think I would take rotten meat from your jaws?”
Timmain nudged the bloody carcass with her nose. Haken spat on the meat.
Timmain’s ears flattened against her skull. In her jackwolf form she was very irritable, and the elf-thought within her knew he had done her a grave insult. Even as Venka called for a truce, Timmain growled low, baring her teeth.
“Oh, there’s a wolf’s reply,” Haken laughed. But there was genuine fear in his eyes, and he raised his hand, summoning his magic. Timmain saw him assume a defensive stance and the fur on the back of her neck stood on end.
“Enough!” Chani snapped. “This is ridiculous. You’re a High One, Timmain!”
“Oh... I know that look in her eyes well,” Haken breathed, and he clenched his fist tightly. A hissing aura of static surrounded him.
“Stop it!” Tass demanded, forcing her way between them. But Timmain ably darted to the side, keeping an open path to Haken.
**No matter the joy you’ve been granted, you will always resort to fear and pain!** Timmain snarled. **There is no love in your heart!**
“What do you know of my heart, you savage beast?”
Timmain crouched low, ready to strike. Haken staggered back, marshalling a black sending.
**STOP IT!** Tass sent.
A wave of sending and shielding power struck both High Ones, throwing them away from each other. Haken was tossed a good ten paces and fell back against the rocks, his head ringing from Tass’s sending. Timmain was thrown head over heels, and hit the ground hard, whimpering miserably. Chani grit her teeth and eyed Tass warily, but the girl had already moved on.
Timmain and Haken gave each other a very wide berth from that point on, and Haken and Chani both maintained a good distance from Tass.
* * *
“Does he have a name?” Windkin asked one afternoon as Spar was grooming her crescent-horn.
“I call him Surefoot,” she shrugged. “It’s sort of stuck. There are no zwoots in the mountains around Oasis. It’s too rugged. But the crescent-horns are everywhere. So are the klipspringers.”
“What are they?”
“Those little deer-like things, about as tall as our waists. They have such tiny feet – they can scale the cliffs effortlessly.” Spar sat down on a large rock. “Ohh, the cub’s restless today.”
“May I?” Windkin asked. Spar nodded, and he put his hand to her stomach. He was quickly rewarded with a sharp kick.
“‘Hands off Mama,’ he’s saying,” Spar laughed. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll have a Glider’s power. But he’ll be a climber at this rate.”
“You shouldn’t be out in the wilderness alone, Spar. Not when you’re with child.”
“Oh, I’ve never been alone. Door is smothering me with care. And Chani... she’s been such a comfort. She’s such a kind soul, Windkin. I know she seems... cold, around Timmain. But she’s all warmth when she’s at ease.”
Windkin looked over his shoulder. Chani sat next to Sust’s tuftcat, scratching the cat’s ears as the beast purred loudly in approval.
“His name’s Stubtail,” Sust said. “Stubtail the... oh, the Four-Eights-and-Two, I think. I name nearly every cat I ride Stubtail after my first.” He shook the cloak over his shoulders. “He was a good cat. So this one is his four-eights-and-second descendent, I guess.”
“He’s a good cat too,” Chani smiled. She let out a little yelp as the cat licked her face, his barbed tongue tickling her cheek. “Are they always this friendly?”
“They should be. I raise them all by hand. They think we’re all just ugly cats.” He chuckled. “The others said I was crazy when I was a cub and I wanted to ride the first Stubtail. ‘Tuftcats aren’t wolves. You can’t ride them like wolves.’ But Papa and I rescued the little cub from the scavengers after the Hunt killed his mother, and I said I’d make a wolf out of him. Didn’t, really. Cats hunt so differently. So I said ‘Poke it’ and became a cat-rider.”
“And why not?” Chani nodded approvingly.
Haken was sitting by himself, some distance from the others, as always. Flitrin perched on the rocks next to him, a vigilant guard. It hissed as Coppersky hiked over, bearing a hank of roasted meat. “Didn’t know if you’d had anything to eat,” Coppersky said, somewhat sheepishly.
“I did,” Haken said. He hesitated. “But, thank you.”
“Oh, just as well then,” Coppersky shrugged, and proceeded to take a sizable bite of the roast. He began to sit down on a nearby rock, then thought better of it and turned to withdraw.
“Who are you?” Haken asked. “You’re no Wolfrider, that’s certain.”
“I should hope not,” Coppersky said imperiously. “I may ride a jackwolf... or a tuftcat for that matter. But I refuse to eat raw meat, and I hope never to experience a moment of ‘Wolf-thought’ in my life. My father is Ahnshen, the... uh... weaver,” he gave a little roll of the eyes, “of Sorrow’s End.”
“Ah, an artisan,” Haken nodded. “Value your crafters, lad. They may not be the Chosen Hunters, but they are the guardians of culture. And culture is the only thing that separates us from the fell beasts of this world.”
Coppersky brightened. “Yes, my lord. Exactly.”
“Sit,” Haken indicated a nearby rock. Coppersky sat down and took another bite of his roast. “Is the bitch still that? In skin, not in spirit, I mean?” Haken asked.
Coppersky fought to swallow. “Ahem...” he stammered, trying to distort the smile that overtook his smile into something more grave. “You have a way with words, my lord.”
“My words amuse you, I see.”
“I have nothing against Timmain. I’m sure she’s a fine mother-wolf to the Great Holt-ers. But... I can’t see Savah running around as a jackwolf. I don’t know – I’m sure selfshaping is... an experience. And my distant cousin Kimo likes to play wolf now and then, I hear. But... I don’t think he enjoys it as much as Timmain. I don’t think he ever forgets that he’s really an elf.”
Haken made a snap of the fingers. “Yes. Above all, never forget who you are – what you are. Never forget what your ancestors endured to hone their powers of mind and body, to cultivate such worlds of the matter and the spirit for you to inhabit.”
“Never settle for less than you are owed.”
Haken laughed. “Are all Sun Folk as wise as you?”
Coppersky sighed. “Most Sun Folk prefer to think that they are freely given what they are owed, and look for no more. There is... a lack of something in Sorrow’s End. A lack of ambition. That’s why I became a Jackwolf Rider. That’s why I left for so many years.”
“But you’re back now, are you not?”
“It was time to come home. My family needs me.”
“Then you understand my purpose?”
Coppersky nodded.
“Do the others? Your kin of... what did young Ahdri call it, of ‘blood and lifematings.’”
“I think some do.”
“But she does not.”
“No one knows what she thinks.”
“I do. There’s a reason she wears a new skin. Faster reflexes,” Haken flashed a cruel grin. He flexed the stump that was his left arm. “In case she needs to finish what she began.”
Coppersky was silent a moment, and he bowed his head to hide his brooding countenance. “If anyone ever... took my arm off and left me to bleed to death... I don’t think I could ever let them live.”
Haken chuckled. “Despite what you witnessed days ago... I... tolerate her continued existence.”
“Because of Chani?”
Haken smiled wistfully. “Because Timmain gave me the greatest gift... most unwillingly. Ironic... had I succeeded in my revenge, I might have known nothing but sorrow in my life. She is... my very existence.” His smile lingered a moment, then soured. “And she is the only reason Timmain and I both still draw breath.”
Many leagues to the north, Sorrow’s End slumbered through the night. But even within the safety of the rocks, sleep eluded some.
Wing hated being chief. He always dreaded it when Grayling left the village and placed him in charge. He weight of responsibility, the constant second-guessing, it all sat unevenly on his shoulders, especially now with humans camped not three days’ travel away.
He lay awake in bed, sleepless for the fourth night in a row. Five days past he and several others on the north side of the village had been awakened by noises in the hills. The remaining Jackwolf Riders had charged into the rocks on the lookout for humans. The intruder turned out to be a fat old boar whose hooves had triggered a little rockslide. But Wing had been on edge since.
He rolled over on his side, regarding his lifemate. Behtia was fast asleep, her face cloaked in the shadows of her long auburn hair. She slept like the dead. Training with Halek and Scouter left her exhausted, yet she continued to practice with dedication. Wing smiled fondly. Poor Behtia. She was not meant to be a warrior. No, she would always be happiest working at her mill – the first-ever mechanical mill in Sorrow’s End. He remembered the excitement in her eyes the day she first had the idea to adapt the crank-and-pulley system used at the well to mill grain. It was before their Recognition, when he had been too shy to approach her.
He lay his head back down on the pillow and tried to summon memories of happier times to lull him into sleep. He remembered the first days after little Ember’s birth, during the golden years when peace reigned.
Scouter’s sending shocked him from his reverie. **Wing! We need you! Intruders to the north.**
Wing moaned. **I nearly feel asleep for the first time in five nights, Scouter. This better not be another false alarm.**
**Two humans and a no-hump! I think they’re scouts.”
Wing slipped out of bed and dressed as quietly as he could. Within minutes he had joined the warriors in the rocks that guarded the northern boundary of the village.
There were two humans and one little pony. They were taking advantage of the cool darkness and the bright moons overhead to scout a path through the field of squat-needle mounds where the Wolfriders had once taken rest so many years before. The Jackwolf Riders hid among the rocks, watching their prey closely.
They seemed a mated pair, the two explorers. The female was leading the no-hump on a short leash while the male scouted ahead, turning over rocks and poking at the sandy soil. Their loud chatter was ceaseless. **Wing! What are they saying?** Scouter demanded.
**I think they want to make a camp for the night,** Wing sent back. **The female is complaining. Something about a long march and sore feet. And the male is telling her to be quiet.**
Now the humans passed by beneath them, the man first walking past the rock that concealed Shushen and Dodia, then stopped and digging in the ground directly below Mahree and Halek’s hiding place.
Wing felt, rather than heard, Scouter’s growl. All the warriors did.
**You hold your ground, Scouter,** he warned. **No one shoots until I give the order.** But he could not muster the authority Grayling could, and they all knew it. Wing was a fine strategist and an excellent hunter. But he lacked the forcefulness a chief wolf needed.
**He’s digging for water,** Halek hissed.
They waited tensely as the human continued to dig until he had a hole as deep as the length of his forearm. The woman was chattering at him, presumably to hurry up. At length the male sat back. He heaved a sigh and spat out his response.
**‘Dry sand and rock,’** Wing translated.
The male began gesturing wildly, indicating the rocks. The Jackwolf Riders froze in horror. The male took a step closer to the hillside, but the woman shouted something at him that made him turn back. The two quarrelled loudly, then the man threw his hands into the air and stalked away, no longer headed for the rocks and the hidden elves.
The woman sat down pointedly on a rock and began to unravel the bedroll lashed to her back. The man turned back and began to shout at her again. He seized her arm and raised a hand to strike her, but the woman shouted back at him, and her shrill voice drove him back. In fury, the man began to climb the rocks again, now on a direct course for the hidden plateau where Wing crouched, and the little path that led down into the village.
**Hold...** Wing continued to send.
Again the woman shouted, and again the man turned. But this time his hand dropped to the crude stone dagger at his waist, which he drew angrily. He spat something back over his shoulder at his mate and raised the knife in warning. And then he turned, his beady eyes scanning the sandstone boulders.
An arrow whistled through the air. It struck him square in the chest, piercing his heart. With a cry he fell over, then rolled down the hillside.
His mate let out a shriek and bolted for her pony.
“Scat!” Wing swore, breaking den-hide. He brought his bow around and nocked an arrow. With one clean shot, he sent an arrow into the woman’s back. The pony whinnied and ran off over the sands. The elves let it go. Beasts could not tell tales, after all.
Slowly the hunters descended from the rocks. They hung back as Wing stalked down the hillside. He struggled to turn the dead male over and examine the arrow in his chest. The distinctive black fletching was unmistakable.
“Scouterrrrrrrr....” Wing growled low in his throat.
The Wolfrider stepped down from his hiding place. “He saw me, Wing,” he stammered. “His hand was on his knife and he looked this way and I know he saw me. We couldn’t let him–”
Wing turned on him, fury in his eyes. In his place, Grayling would have seized Scouter by his face-fur and thrown him against the rocks. But Wing lacked the conviction to enforce his orders through violence. “Why?” he shouted instead. “Is this how a Wolfrider obeys his chief? Is it? I said no killing until I gave the word! And now two are dead that should not be!”
“Humans!” Scouter shot back. “I won’t grieve for them–”
Wing drew himself up as tall as he could, ever aware that his great blue eyes and somewhat middling stature were not the attributes of a chief wolf. “Grayling left me in charge! I am your chief in his stead! Do you challenge me? For if you do you’ll have to answer to Bearclaw’s son!” There. Mentioning that unmentionable elf always struck fear into the hearts of Wolfriders.
Scouter was defensive, belligerently so. “Grayling would have given the order to fire.”
“Would he? And can you second-guess our chief in his absence? Poke it, Scouter! Don’t you think the humans will notice if these two don’t come home? Don’t you think more scouts will come looking for their bodies? We could have a swarm of humans in these rocks within days – just a stone’s throw away from our homes! You may have just destroyed Sorrow’s End!”
Scouter scowled, but said no more. He spat on the human corpse as he climbed back up the hillside. Wing longed to shout at his back, to make him turn around, but he knew Scouter was not in the mood to listen. And he hadn’t the strength of will to make the errant archer turn around.
He hated being chief.
They fed the bodies of the humans to the jackwolves and tuftcats, then gathered up the broken bones. Halek and Dodia rode out west for a day’s travel, to strew the bones across the sand. With luck the humans would think the two had been killed by mountain lions.
Scouter pointedly avoided Wing in the wake of the incident. So did Shushen and Dahn. Shushen and Mahree quarrelled constantly, while Dodia calmly withdrew from conversation with the feuding Riders. Wing hoped Grayling would return home soon. The Jackwolf Riders were slowly breaking apart without him to hold them together.
The return journey took longer than the journey south, and two and a half months had passed before the Jackwolf Riders returned home. It was early morning when Scouter announced he spotted a string of riders approaching from the south-east.
Weatherbird lingered with Savah in the doorway of the Mother of Memory’s hut while the villagers rushed out to greet the Riders. Two elves on Jackwolf descended from the rocks, followed closely by two elves on a zwoot and two elves riding on tuftcats. There was no sign of Windkin or Timmain, let alone the expected guests.
**Kel,** Hansha sighed as he embraced Grayling in greeting. Grayling hugged him back fiercely.
“Oh, I’ve missed you...” he whispered, before covering Hansha’s mouth with his.
Alekah jogged up to join Hansha. “Grayling!”
Grayling turned to his Recognized. “Alekah. How are you? How’s the cub?”
“Barely any bigger than when you left, don’t worry.” She embraced him. “Hansha and Jari have been taking good care of me. But where are the others?”
Ahdri and Tass climbed down from the zwoot just as a new jackwolf appeared from behind the rocks. Alekah frowned. “Who–?”
“Timmain. She... well... she has her reasons.”
“Grayling!” Wing joined the milling villagers. “Good to have you back, chief.”
“Being chief in my stead doesn’t agree with you, old friend?”
“You know it doesn’t,” Wing grinned, clasping hands with Grayling. “But where–?”
“They’re coming.”
A few more minutes passed, then a newcomer appeared over the hills. A red-haired elf, visibly pregnant, rode astride a strange beast, not quite as large as a zwoot. Windkin flew overhead, followed closely by another floating elf.
Now Savah and Sun-Toucher had arrived at the village’s edge. Their arrival must have interrupted Savah’s nightly meditation, for she did not wear her golden crown, and her steely-gray hair fell over her shoulders in a multitude of tiny braids. “A place of welcoming and farewells,” Savah said. “Today, it is the joy of greeting that brings us here.”
Windkin landed on the ground. A moment later the other Glider dropped down. A head taller than Windkin, clad in long robes and wearing a capelet of dark feathers, the silver-haired elf looked every inch an ancient Glider lord.
“Savah!” Windkin flew over to greet her. “You remember Spar, Redlance and Nightfall’s daughter.”
“Of course.” Savah held out her hands to greet Spar. “Welcome to Sorrow’s End, my dear.”
“And this is–”
“My far-cousin Fenn, called Door,” Savah nodded. “You are both most welcome.”
“What’s... Spar doing here?” Wing whispered to Grayling.
“It’s... a long story.”
“And... I take it she finally Recognized Door?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Father – of course I’m fine–” Tass yelped as Zhantee embraced her tightly, having already enfolded Venka in a “welcome-home” bear hug. Recently freed from her lifemate’s arms, Venka now moved over to Savah’s side.
“Perhaps we could... disperse the crowd a little,” she whispered. “Haken is... a little uncertain.”
“Yes, perhaps–” Savah looked up at the rocks and caught her breath. A figure cloaked in a white robe stood on the hillside. Savah left Venka’s side and moved towards the rocks, her feet unsteady. The figure descended the hillside, his movements just as slow, as cautious.
“Savah?” Sun-Toucher called, but Savah did not seem to hear him.
Haken reached up and doffed his hood as he staggered down from the hillside. Savah reached the base of the slope and stopped. Haken hesitated a moment on the rocks, then stepped down to meet her. His expression was one the elves had never seen before – one of absolute wonder.
Haken lifted his hand to her face. “Your eyes... they are Vreya’s eyes. Your hair... your face... different.” Tears welled in his eyes. “But you have my daughter’s eyes.”
“Grandfather...” Savah whispered. She touched her forehead to his. “Oh, it’s been so long since I looked into the eyes of family.”
The Sun Folk hung back, allowing the reunited pair a scant moment of privacy. When Savah stepped back at last and looked up at the rocks, Chani was already descending to the sandy plain, a smile on her lips.
“You must be exhausted,” Savah said at last, rising a long-fingered hand to wipe away her tears. “The sun is rising fast. Please, come inside. My hut is yours.”
Haken and Chani gratefully followed the Mother of Memory, while Door and Spar lingered by Windkin, still uncertain. Timmain turned and retreated towards the waiting jackwolf pack.
“We have much to discuss,” Savah said as she led them inside her hut. “But you must rest first. My underground chamber is dark and cool. And as I’ve long since given up sleep, you will not be imposing.”
Weatherbird was waiting just inside the doorway. “Ah, Weatherbird,” Savah smiled. “Haken, Chani. I must introduce you to Weatherbird, daughter of Sunstream, Master of the Palace.”
Haken drew back. “I know you. Or I feel that I should know you.”
“We have met... after a fashion. My parents are Sunstream and Quicksilver, whom you met at Blue Mountain. They Recognized at the same moment you were finding your way back into your body, Chani.”
Haken nodded. “Ah. The daughter of my ‘Runya.’ Little wonder. You have the air an elf should.”
“What air is that?”
“The air of one who knows her soul, and know what great things she is capable of. Too many of my scattered children have been taught to embrace limitations. To shun growth as madness. Not you.”
Weatherbird smiled prettily. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why most elves thing I’m a little... flighty in the head.”
“Is your father here?” Chani asked. “I owe him many thanks for helping me back into my skin.”
“Not just now,” Weatherbird chose her words carefully. “He is... preoccupied with the Palace.”
“Hm, preoccupied with keeping it far from my evil clutches, you mean?” Haken drawled sarcastically. “No... I don’t suppose I can blame him.” He gave her a slight smile. “We will have to speak more of him, later.”
“He’s changed,” Venka said to Weatherbird as she joined them in Zhantee’s parents’ hut.
“Yes,” Weatherbird nodded. “He’s... weightless now.”
“What does he want?” Zhantee asked.
Venka bit her lip. “His desires are most... complicated. Suffice to say he wants a family again. He found his great-grandson Door, and that was a start. Now he wants the Sun Folk.”
Zhantee shrugged agreeably. “Well, I can’t say I’m going to think well of someone who tried to kill Timmain and wipe the Wolfriders out before they began.” He gave Venka’s shoulders a protective squeeze. “But if he has gentled with age... and if Savah trusts him, why shouldn’t we? The village is more than big enough for four new elves and one on the way.” He grinned. “Grayling’s little cub can have an agemate.”
Weatherbird frowned. “These ‘complicated’ desires... Aunt Venka?”
“I think it would be best for Haken to explain himself. As Chani said to us at their ‘Oasis,’ what we call the truth varies wildly from speaker to speaker. I would not presume to speak Haken’s truth for him.”
Tass chewed on a piece of her long hair as she always did when she was nervous. Zhantee reached over and flicked it out of her mouth.
“What’s biting you, hmm?” he teased.
“I don’t trust Haken. And I don’t much care for Chani either. And if we let him become Lord of the Sun Folk–”
“Tass,” Venka hissed meaningfully.
“Is that what he wants?” Weatherbird sighed.
“I think that oversimplifying,” Venka said. “Haken would say that he wished to be a protector of the Sun Folk.”
“Like Winnowill was protector of Blue Mountain?” Tass challenged.
“Like your grandfather was once protector of the Sun Folk. And like he is now protector of the Wolfriders,” Venka countered, and Tass fell silent.
“You trust him, lifemate?” Zhantee asked. “If you trust him that’s enough for me.”
“I trust his intentions are pure,” Venka hedged. “Whether his actions will out remains to be seen. But if Timmain of all elves is willing to swallow her anger and mistrust long enough to let Haken speak his piece, I think it is the least we can do.”
Haken spoke his piece. At Savah’s instructions, the grand welcoming feast Leetah and the Jackwolf Riders had planned was scaled down to a more humble affair. There were no dancers, little music. But as she had when the Wolfriders first came to Sorrow’s End, Savah told the story of the journey of the Rootless Ones, from green-growing place to Sorrow’s End. Haken and Chani listened with rapt attention from their place of honour, while Door and Spar sat at the far end of the dais, near Windkin and other familiar faces.
“Our many generations lived in peace here,” Savah added when the tale was complete. “And even as my mother, my cousin, and even my children passed from this land, I remained, a living vessel of the memories. Yet I was but a child of eight-and-four when we arrived here, and of the time before the humans drove us from the woods, I always knew little. Only that my mother Hassbet was raised by her mother Ambet, who was the child of Vreya – a proud huntress who fought to find a safe place for us in the world – a place where we could be free of danger. My earliest memories are of tales of a time long before my birth, a time when humans drove us from our rightful home, a time when we Rootless Ones sought sanctuary in a mountain, only to have the humans follow us there. For ages I knew nothing more than that. Even as my spirit was trapped – briefly – in the mind of one from Blue Mountain, I had no idea we were close kin. Always there was a void in my memories, an emptiness I longed to fill with knowledge. And now that emptiness is no longer, for the Father of the Rootless Ones, the Father of the Sun Folk, has come to us at last.”
A muted cheer went from the Sun Folk – a sudden rush of noise quickly caught as the villagers realized belatedly that cheers were not what Haken sought.
Haken slowly rose from his seat. His gaze was distant. “I remember the day Vreya left Blue Mountain with Sunan and the other Rootless Ones. They did not like the stone roots I had created for them. They feared the humans would find a way to breach our mountain – or worse, we would smother ourselves in rock trying to hide from them. I remember my grief. She would die out there in the world, and the Rootless Ones would disappear. Only those of Blue Mountain would survive. And Vreya and those who left with her did die. But I was wrong. Death struck inside Blue Mountain, and I entombed myself in rock to escape the pain. When I awoke Blue Mountain had fallen under the weight of its own decay. Yet the Rootless Ones survived, and thrived.
“I found my life again,” he glanced at Chani fondly, “and I was content to know my descendents lived on. Despite what others may think,” now he cast a sharp glance at Timmain, now once again in elf form, sitting as far from the dais as she could, “I do not desire to be master of all. But now your village is imperilled. The humans have caught up with you. Now my children need me. And so I have come.”
“Father of us all–” someone called out before being quickly shushed. The rest of the villagers held their breath.
Haken began to pace a little. “These humans are different, the Mother of Memory tells me. They don’t want to simply make a camp and sit still. They migrate like a herd of beasts, moving back and forth between the other packs. And the only way they can cross the desert from west to east is to cross through these mountains. There’s water in mountains and they know it. They may have stopped for now, but they will keeping coming until they know every rock in these hills. The village cannot survive as it is. You have a choice. To stay here, to shape taller walls to hide behind and fortify your huts, or to leave these hills, to become Rootless Ones once more, and to journey south to a place where humans would not dare to venture.
“There is an oasis, some two eights-of-days south of here, hidden in the mountains of the World’s Spine. The cliffs are too steep for humans, but the soil is rich and the game is abundant. My lifemate and I, and our child’s grandson and his mate have laid the foundations for a sanctuary, far from the eyes of even the most ambitious human. If you choose, you can all come to our oasis and build a new village for your children.”
Silence followed his speech. Such deathly stillness enveloped the Sun Folk that everyone could hear the beating of their own hearts.
“So that’s his plan,” Zhantee whispered to Venka. “You knew about this?”
**It’s not the first time we’ve considered it, lifemate.**
Leetah stood up. “No,” she stammered. “No, we won’t leave Sorrow’s End. We can’t. This is our home.”
Several elves murmured in agreement.
Savah rose from her seat. “This is a choice every elf must make, a choice not to be made rashly. Weigh our grandfather’s words most carefully, for there will be plenty of time for debate in the days to come. Sorrow’s End was made to forever guard us against danger, and we will not abandon that which has so cared for us. Yet remember, my children, that nothing is eternal, and the day may soon come when the village will no longer hold us. And know that whatever may come to pass, the father of our kind has returned to guide us through the storm.” She held out her hand to Haken.
A more resounding cheer went up from the Sun Folk. But there was anger in some voice – fear and worry breeding resentment. Zhantee’s mother Thamia set her goblet of cider down on the ground so sharply it tipped over. Alekah got up from the mat abruptly, leaving Grayling and Jari to chase after her. Scouter and Leetah were pointedly silent as everyone around them began talking at once.
Haken sat back down in his stone chair, brooding. Chani reached out to touch his shoulder encouragingly.
**Savah?** Ahdri asked as Savah slowly lowered herself back into her chair. She suddenly seemed very tired.
**This is the end, Ahdri. No matter what happens, this is the end of one age. What this will be the beginning of... I can only imagine.**
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