Oasis
Part Four: Adaptation
The Sun Village fell into a strange sort of rhythm following Haken’s arrival. In many ways, life went on unchanged. The would-be warriors trained in self-defense classes with the Jackwolf Riders. The farmers planted one set of crops and harvested another. The scouts kept watch for humans while the rockshapers worked on the defensive walls. But now a new uncertainty hung in the air. Would all their efforts be for nothing in the end? Was Sorrow’s End doomed to fall?
“We cannot leave Sorrow’s End,” Alekah announced as Grayling and Hansha joined her and Jari for the evening meal. It had become their habit to take their meals together, morning at Grayling’s hut, evening at Alekah’s.
“You don’t need to tell me,” Grayling said. “The humans will be in Savah’s hut itself before I’ll be willing to leave.”
“I don’t know...” Hansha murmured.
“What are you saying?” Alekah threw down her little piece of bread in disgust. “That we should leave our home? My kitling isn’t going to be born in some far-flung mountain pass, a wanderer without a home!”
“Our kitling,” Hansha retorted.
“Come on, green eyes, you can’t mean that,” Grayling touched his shoulder. “We’re not going to pull out our roots and run just because a few humans are wandering nearby. Even if we left tonight, we’d take years to rebuild our village. Do you really want our cub born without a real home?”
“Do you want to have to move five years later, or ten years, when our cub is a frightened child?”
“It won’t come to that,” Alekah said firmly.
“We hope...” Jari murmured.
“Oh, Jari, you’re not going to say we have to leave.”
“We aren’t the ones who need to leave.”
Grayling tore off a piece of bread from the loaf. “Believe me, Jari, I’d love nothing more than frighten those humans off.”
“Why frighten?”
Grayling sniffed. “You have trouble wielding a cutting knife, Jari, and you want to hunt humans.”
“I want you to hunt humans.”
“We’re not murderers, Jari.”
“You’re hunters aren’t you? When there’s a mountain lion that won’t leave off from our boundaries, don’t you go out and kill it?”
Grayling shook his head. “It’s different. These are families of humans...”
“Then hunt down the males.”
“That’s just cruel, Jari.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do, Hansha?” Jari erupted in uncharacteristic anger.
Hansha looked at Grayling in turn.
“I don’t know,” Grayling sighed. “I don’t know.”
Door added his strength to the rockshaping efforts. Small tremors constantly laced through the village, but the wall rose steadily in height. Slowly but surely, the gap in the ring of hills surrounding the village began to close up.
“We will have to bring the wall all the way around the Bridge of Destiny,” Haken said. “And once this is finished, we will have to raise the cliffs higher. If the Wolfriders scaled the hills so easily to find Sorrow’s End all those years ago, you can be certain humans will have an easier time. If you are to stay here, you must make Sorrow’s End completely unattractive from the outside.”
“You speak of a cage,” Ahdri murmured.
“We have little choice, for now.”
Chani cut long slings from a ravvit-hide and gathered several of the younger Sun Folk together for lessons. Her gown hitched up and girded about her waist, she paced up and down the line of maidens and youths while Leetah the Healer watched skeptically. “The sling is a simple weapon, but a powerful one. It’s easy to make, easy to carry, and you’ll never want for a supply of projectiles. It’s a little tricky to learn, but once you know how to release it, it’s no harder to aim than an atlatl or a spear.”
The youth Katlen frowned. “It’s nothing better than a little toy, to shoot down ravvits and thistle-birds.”
Chani bent down and picked up a stone. She slipped it into the sling and began to swing her weapon high over her head. “It may look like a child’s toy, but in the right hands...” she released the sling and the stone went flying, and snapped a branch off the nearby cloud-tree. “It can be as deadly as a bow-and-arrows. A well-aimed stone can cripple a bristle-boar on the run, kill a buck at thirty paces, or shatter a human’s skull when shot right between the eyes. And best of all, the sling is light enough to be used by the frailest elf, even a child.”
Leetah got to her feet from the little chair on the sidelines. “You would turn even our children into warriors?”
“Given time, I could turn even you into a warrior, healer.”
“I save lives. I do not take them.”
“No one wants to take lives. But do you want to sit by helpless as others die, because you have no weapon with which to defend them? The days are long gone when you can just hide behind a lad with a spear.”
“You’ll turn us all into murderers if given a chance!”
Chani heaved a sigh. “If you won’t join us, then please leave. You’re disrupting our training.”
A ground-quake shook the village, and while the sturdy huts weathered the vibrations, everything that was not secured tightly fell to the ground. One of Hansha’s ovens cracked under the strain, extinguishing the fire within and ruining an iron spearhead he had been forging. The sounds of shattered pottery and snapped wood echoed through the village.
“What are you doing?” Shushen shouted at Door and Ekuar. “What good is a rock wall if the village is in ruins inside it?”
“Will nothing satisfy you chattering fools?” Door shot back. “You can’t have everything you want. You want a wall built now, built fast, but you can’t stand a tremor or two! You want to stay here in Sorrow’s End, but you won’t arm yourselves properly! You whine like the little human monkeys who used to beg me to give them immortal life – whine as though it were my fault the humans are sniffing around in your mountains!”
And so village life endured the changes as the days passed. Spar and Chani made valiant attempts to befriend the Sun Folk, but their mates remained separated from the others. Besides Savah, Weatherbird and Venka spoke freely with Haken, and often Savah’s hut was the site of gentle debates. But the Sun Folk still quailed when they saw Haken walk around the village. Timmain spent her days in isolation, trying hard not to cross paths with her daughter or her enemy. The Jackwolf Riders were constantly on edge.
“I fear my children are not adapting well to the many necessary changes,” Savah sighed, as she slowly descended the stairs into her underground chamber. Chani followed, taking care not to tread on the trailing hem of Savah’s spring-green gown.
“It is hard to break old habits,” Chani said.
Savah reached up and unfastened the hidden band that held her golden headdress in place. Chani stepped behind her to help her remove it. “It’s so light!” Chani exclaimed. “And all this time I wonder how you could manage it!”
“Hansha the Metalworker made it for me many years ago, when he first found the secret to beating gold soft and flexible. A far cry from the woven reed and grass headpieces we first wore, when we were Rootless Ones.”
Chani set the headpiece down on the small table in the little alcove that served as Savah’s dressing room. It was a spartan area, for Savah had little use for extravangance. Several golden ribbons lay on the table, next to combs, hairpins, and small jars of perfumed cream designed to soften wind-dried skin.
“You are certain we are not imposing, occupying your sleeping area?” Chani asked again. “Haken and Fenn could easily shape a little dwelling in the hills–”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. You are family. It gladdens my heart to have family so near.” She sighed wistfully. “It has been many years since I have shared my rooms with family. Dear Ahdri left my chambers years ago to live with Windkin. And I always meditate best knowing there are sleeping elves under my roof. It reminds me of the earlier days, I suppose, when the village was young and the laughter of children constantly rang within these walls.”
Chani picked up a comb. “Did you bear many children?”
“As many daughters and sons as fingers on my hands,” Savah smiled. She sat down in a little chair and fingered the hanging tapestries that adorned the walls. “Eight beautiful little children borne to four different fathers. And my mother herself bore five children. We raised them all as one family inside the very walls of this hut.”
Chani moved behind Savah and skillfully began to undress her complex hairstyle. At first Savah stiffened at the unexpected touch, but she soon relaxed under Chani’s gentle touch.
“I used to do this for your great-grandmother,” Chani explained. “She too had hair like wrapstuff, soft, easily snarled, and carefully braided. But for the colour I’d swear it was hers. Strange,” she murmured as she slowly unbraided Savah’s silver hair. “I was as a sister to your ancestor. Yet I am far younger than your many-times-grandchildren. Or at least this body is.”
“No elf can claim such a life as you have lived, dear sister,” Savah said.
Chani began to comb out the silk strands. Unbound, Savah’s hair reached past her waist. Chani smiled sadly. “My daughter’s hair never tangled – it was always slick and heavy as a waterfall. But I used to brush her hair too, and she flattered me by pretending it was necessary. Savah... we have never spoken of this, but it has weighed on my mind heavily. I... I know how you suffered at my daughter’s hands. And I know she is called the Loveless One among your children. Yet I hope one day you can forgive her for her wrongdoings. She was... very ill inside... dying of a lingering heartache.”
“I know. And I know her cruelty came not from a pleasure in inflicting pain, but from a profound emptiness and a hunger to fill it, whatever the cost.”
“Her brother’s death hurt her gravely. To lose your twin... your other half – I used to tease them when they were young, and call Runya the sun and Winnowill the moons. She become obsessed with isolating herself – all of us – in a cocoon of warmth and safety. I had hoped to steer her and Haken through our shared grief, so that the three of us could survive. But then I was gone, and so was Haken. Winnowill was only a few years younger than I – but she might as well have been a toddling child.” Chani closed her eyes tight to hold back the tears. “Oh... how I blamed myself for being luckless enough to die and abandon her and Haken both.”
“Is it not the way of mothers, to bear the heaviest burdens without complaint, to seek the impossible to protect our families?” Savah looked down at herhands. “Eight beautiful children... all taken by time and the endless cycle of life and death. My grandchildren too.. and their grandchildren... yet I take comfort in knowing that their grandchildren thrive.”
“As I take comfort in knowing my children are safe inside the Palace,” Chani said. “Truly, it was hard to leave their souls. Especially Winnowill. The time we shared together as sister-spirits was so short.” She resumed slowly brushing Savah’s hair. “But a part of my soul remains behind in the Palace even now, and I know their spirits will always be close by.”
“May I ask you a question, sister?”
“Of course.”
“What is it like... to die?”
Chani stepped away from the chair. “Ah.”
Savah continued to inspect her hands. “I am Mother of Memory, a living storehouse of experiences for my children to draw upon. Yet there is one experience of which I know nothing. I have come close to death many times. I have seen it take my lifemate and children. And my spirit has flown far beyond the confines of my body, not least when I was a prisoner of Winnowill. Yet always a thin thread has tethered me to my body. What is it like when that thread snaps?”
Chani paced about the room. She saw Savah’s imploring look and fumbled for words. “It is like.... Think of your body as a cup, and your spirit as the water inside. When you about in your skin, the cup is upright and your spirit is well contained. When you... ‘go out’ into the planes beyond this one, the cup is tipped on its side, and a single drop of water hangs off the edge, waiting to fall, but always clinging to the rim.”
Savah nodded eagerly.
“And... death... is when the cup overturns, and the water falls to the ground. Freed, it spreads out in all directions. You feel... lighter... larger somehow. Before you stood in a valley looking at distant mountains. Now you can somehow encompass the entire valley within your soul – and the mountains and beyond. There are no boundaries, no constraints. It is... very liberating. And very terrifying. You are... a mote of dust on the wind... and it takes a seeming eternity to learn how to navigate that wind. But in time... you settle... you adapt. And you become aware of... so much.... so much you never knew existed.” Her eyes darkened. “Yet there is a wall where there was none before... and the world you once knew is denied you. You see fleeting glimpses of the world you left... and at times it seems you can reach out and almost touch it. But you never can. It is a small price to pay, some might say. But for who were not ready to leave their skin....”
“And that is why you came back?”
“It was hard to enter my body again. Very hard. Even with the power of the Palace I had to force my way through that wall. But I wanted it.” She held up her hands and slowly turned them about in the light. “I needed to. There was so much... left unfinished.”
Savah rose from her chair. “And what is it like... to be back in your skin after so many years spent in spirit only?”
“It is... a most curious existence.” She ran one hand over the other. “I am aware of my skin as never before. It feels... confining... but pleasantly so, like a garment worn a little too tightly. I feel everything more sharply, every sensation is multiplied ten-fold. The world... seems more alive than ever before.”
Savah nodded. “You are fortunate.” Her gaze was oddly distant.
“Savah? What is it?”
Savah touched the bare wall where the tapestries did not cover. “As you were once separated from your lifemate by death, so I am kept from mine. Yurek. I was but eight-and-four when we Recognized the first time. And I idolized him as a child does her elders. But as our family grew so did our love, until I was able to look upon him not as a leader I needed to please, but as another part of myself. For many, many happy years we governed Sorrow’s End together, he and I. But he gave himself up to the task of rockshaping. His life’s work consumed him so that his soul left his body and went into the rock itself.” She spread her fingers out over the rock and smiled at the warmth she found. “He is still here, even now. His strength of will allowed his spirit to remain forever in these mountains, rather than being drawn by the pull of the Palace. His spirit protects us, lends strength to Ahdri’s shaping powers. And I am never without him.” The rock seemed to soften under her touch, and she imagined she saw four finger-shaped ridges rise out of the rock to interlace with her fingers. But then the moment passed and the rock hardened once more. “But he is always just out of reach. Often I have thought that if I did not have my children to care for... I might wish to join him. Yet if the humans force us from Sorrow’s End... I may lose him forever.”
Chani touched her shoulder. “Come to Oasis with us. Convince your children to leave this place. Yurek’s soul will surely follow you south through the World’s Spine.”
“I could never leave this place. It is... my life.”
“What does Yurek say?”
Savah opened her mouth, but no words came.
Footsteps down the stairs made the elf-women turn. Haken descended into the chamber, a scowl on his face. Chani hastened to his side. Wrapping her slender arms about his shoulders, she touched her forehead to his.
“Mm, what troubles my lord so?”
Haken sighed wearily. “I am a prisoner under watch. I cannot take two steps without a pair of eyes on me. That... that little flea is always chasing my shadow. Timmain’s cursed Preserver is always buzzing about. Petalwing! We should have roasted it for a meal back at Blue Mountain.”
Chani kissed him tenderly. “Flitrin will smother it in sand soon enough. And don’t fret about Tass. Fleas are beneath my lord’s caring.”
Haken smiled. “You ever are my dearest comfort. You and our grandchildren.” Then his temper returned and he collapsed in Savah’s chair, fuming once more. “Even Weatherbird is more a guard than a pupil! Oh, I can see her father’s hand in this. ‘Charm him, but keep him in line.’ I was Lord of Blue Mountain! I cannot endure this... trial! As though I were an errant child being let out of his room for the first time after a tantrum.”
“Trust must be earned slowly, Grandfather,” Savah said gently.
“Trust...” he sneered. “I had no need to prove myself worthy of trust in the past.” But then his anger withered, and he looked up at Savah imploringly. “All I desire is to protect my kind. To be a leader and provider. Wanting only the best for others... taking matters into one’s own hands... when did that become a fault? It is all her doing! She has as much blood on her hands as I – more! Yet they revere her as their mother, and fear me as a creature more loathed than humans!”
Chani moved behind him and began massaging his shoulders gently. “Prove them all wrong. Prove her wrong. We have lost everything, but we will rebuild it all and more besides. There will be your revenge.”
A wry smile touched Haken’s lips. He turned to his lifemate to speak, but an open sending to the entire village caught them all by surprise.
**Humans! Humans at our outer wall!**
Haken leapt to his feet and made for the steps. A low growl built in Chani’s throat and she began to follow. A subtle charge in the air hinted at an imminent shapeshifting.
“No,” Haken turned back to her. “Stay here. Guard Savah.”
For a moment Chani hesitated. Then the aura surrounding her faded. She nodded. A slight smile of understanding passed between them, then Haken turned and sprinted up the steps.
This time the intruders were no mere mated pair. Ten large humans males were among the squat-needles and sticker-plants. All were armed with spear and clubs. The late afternoon light cast sharp shadows over the rocks, and the elfin warriors ably concealed themselves in strategic positions, watching their prey closely.
The humans were all grumbling to each other, and Wing and Windkin strained to hear their chatter and translate. **They’re on the lookout for cats, I think,** Wing sent. **They want to make sure they aren’t ambushed like the others. That lead male, the one with the tattoos on his face... he’s saying something about... joy? Happiness? This word ‘ka-a-reth.’ We’ve never been able to translate it.**
**Wealth,** came a clipped response. Grayling twisted in his hiding place, looking for some sign of the Glider. But Door, wherever he was, was keeping himself well concealed.
**Where are you, Door?**
**Near my kin of the winds. Don’t sweat so, jackwolf. I’ve been dealing with humans far longer than you.**
**Aye, and not too well from what I’ve heard. Windkin – sit on him if you have to! We’re keeping a den-hide at all costs.**
**And who, Wolfrider, will sit on me, I wonder?** came Haken’s taunt.
Grayling bit back a retort about Timmain, but thought better of it. **I’ll call Tass myself if need be, High One,** he vowed instead. **All of you. Hold your ground. I give the order to shoot, and I alone. Do you hear me, Scouter?**
Scouter’s surly reply came a moment late. **I hear my chief.**
The men slowly climbed up into the rocks, poking into crevices for small animals. The elves could not tell which one was the leader, for both the tall tattooed one – well muscled but with a thick layer of fat about his shoulders and waist – and his companion, a leaner hunter, seemed in positions of authority.
**Steady,** Grayling warned. **We’ll give them every chance to pass us by.**
**And if they come up over the rocks?** Haken asked. **Might I suggest something more effective than simply shooting them all and waiting for more to come looking for their bodies?**
**What is that?**
**I know a thing or two about humans. They need a little shove now and then to make them understand. But they learn quickly. And with the proper persuasion, they’ll see that their god does not want them here.**
**You mean reveal ourselves and our powers? No. The risk is too great.**
**There is nothing wrong in establishing our superiority, Wolfrider. What humans does not understand, they inevitably destroy... or worship. And I think it is in our best interests to attract their worship, not their emnity.**
**Grandfather is right,** Door sent. **They must learn to fear us before they realize we fear them.**
**I’d rather they never know of us. Invisibility is a far better shield than godhead.**
**You may not have a choice,** Haken sent. And Grayling saw that we was right. The humans were now ascending the steep hillside as Swift and Skywise once had so long ago.
Grayling watched them come closer, heard the almost-inaudible sound of Scouter drawing back his bowstring taught. Quickly the chief weighed his options. He could not allow the humans any further. But massacring them all would only provoke further scouting parties.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life perched on this rock, just waiting to pick off anyone who comes in sight?”
Swift had said those words to Strongbow, a lifetime ago.
**Wing, Scouter. An arrow at their feet. Nothing more!**
Two arrows whizzed out from the rocks, landing in the loose earth at the sandaled feet of the two leaders. The humans leapt back, swearing loudly in their guttural speech.
**Dodia, Halek. Two arrows behind the laggard’s feet.**
Another two arrows struck the earth behind the rear of the human party. As the humans panicked and huddled together, Grayling gave the order for the other archers to fire. Soon a circle of arrows and atlatl darts surrounded the humans. Sust and Coppersky readied their spear and dagger for the killing stroke if it came to that.
The humans cried out into the night, imploring their attackers to show themselves.
At Grayling’s urging, Wing cleared his throat and affected as deep and powerful a voice he could.
“Humans!” he shouted in their tongue, his voice echoing off the rocks. “Go back. Ma-nak no want you here. These rocks are Ma-nak’s rocks. No humans here. We... children of Ma-nak. And we guard rocks. Go back. Leave sand and rock. Ma-nak say go! This not your land!”
The tattooed human shouted back. “We are Children of Manach too! We come here in answer of Manach’s call–”
“No!” Wing shouted. “No call you. Go back! This land not for humans. This land for... spirits and Ma-nak. Go back. Go back or die, say Ma-nak!”
**Door. Persuade them. But don’t you dare kill them.**
Spires of jagged stone rose up from the ground, barring their way up the hillside. Grayling howled loudly, and the other Riders mimicked him. Soon the distant jackwolf pack heard the call and joined in. The screaming human turned and ran. Only the lean hunter paused long enough to yank an arrow up out of the ground.
“Go!” Wing shouted over the noise. “Go now!”
The humans needed no further urging. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Coppersky and Sust burst out laughing. The Sun Folk jeered and whooped with delight. But Grayling was silent.
**Well done,** Haken sent.
**They’re frightened now. But they’ll be back.**
**Then we will drive them off again. Humans have not changed so much since I ruled them.**
Curse him. Curse him for his smug arrogance. And curse that he was right. Grayling's hand was forced and they all knew it.
**We keep a scout eyes-high at all times, as before. We keep working on the wall. And we’ll plan some new tricks for our friends, if they decide to come back. Wing. I want you to teach Haken the human speech. You have nice sharp voice, my lord,** he could not keep the sneer out of his sending. **You can pass for a human demon-spirit better than Wing.**
He abandoned his hiding place and hiked back towards the village.
“I trust you appreciate the restraint I have shown around you and your little savages, child!” Haken shouted at Grayling’s back.
“We are most grateful, my lord.” Grayling shot back over his shoulder.
Slowly the Riders dispersed. Door, Windkin, Sust and Coppersky lingered at Haken’s side. Sust whistled low as Grayling’s silhouette disappeared over the ridge. “He and his sister share their temper. And I think he’s picked up a bit of Rayek’s venom along the way.”
Coppersky smiled approvingly. “He’s a good chief.”
“He fears risk,” Haken said. “Complacency is bred into this land.”
“He is our chief,” Windkin warned. “And if you cross him, it will be as if you crossed Savah. You may be powerful, Haken, but even you can’t force the Sun Folk to your will.”
Haken glared at him. “Now, I thought better of you, Windkin.” He turned and levitated himself back up to the plateau above them.
Aballan awoke to the shouts of women and children. He rolled over in his bed, moaning softly. It was scarcely light outside the tipi.
“Master!” the boy Kasmar cried as he yanked the flaps of the tipi open.
Aballan sighed. “I am a weary old man. You had better have a reason for disturbing my precious sleep!”
“Come quickly. It is... a sign!”
Aballan moaned. A bird had probably dropped dead in some fool’s cooking pot.
He slowly rose, fighting through the aches in his joints. He was too old to be up and about so early. Lacing his long hide kilt about his legs, he tottered after the boy towards the boundary stones that marked the limits of camp. Their pack animals had to be kept beyond the circle, and no bodily excrement or women’s blood could pollute the ground inside the stones. In return Manach would bless the campground and keep those inside safe from wild animals and disease.
He gasped. Tarach and the hunters had returned ahead of schedule. They were now limping into camp, exhausted, their clothing torn, their lips chapped and parched.
“What is it, my near-son?” Aballan rushed to his side. “What happened? You were not due back for ten more days. Did you find a safe route along the mountains?”
“Paugh!” Tagon shouted. “The mountains! The mountain are infested with demons!”
“Demons?”
“Oh, Master,” Tarach gasped out around the rim of a bowl of water his woman offered him. “Such things we have seen.”
“Tell me quickly. Spare no detail.”
“It was late afternoon, not three days past. We were... we were exploring the hillsides. And suddenly arrows flew from the very rocks – well crafted arrows like those used by the Eastern Clans. And the rocks rose up like claw molded by invisible hands. And a voice spoke from the rocks. It called itself a spirit, a child of Manach. It told us to flee, for we had trespassed on sacred ground. And then such a noise. Howling of wolves. We fled. We have run the entire way back here.”
“Demons!” Tagon snapped again.
“Speak more plainly. Did you see what spoke?”
“No, Master. I saw nothing. Only the voice. Harsh, with a strange accent, as though his spirit tongue could not form the words properly. And the arrows, they came from all around us, encircling us.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No. But the voice threatened death if we returned. It told us that we misread Manach’s signs, that Manach did not call us here after all. It told us to leave the sand and rock and return to our homeland, or we would all suffer death. Why, it was these spirits that killed Amar and Arlach. It must have been!”
Tagon snorted. “We have no proof of that!”
“Calm yourselves!” Aballan instructed. “I will speak to all of you one by one, and we will make some sense of this.”
The shaman interviewed each of the men in the privacy of his tipi, away from the prying eyes and ears of the others. The stories conflicted somewhat, but the picture they painted was the same. Creatures lived in the Mountains of the Sun. And they did not want the humans there.
“What are they, Master?” Tarach asked when the interviews were complete.
“I believe... they may the spirits the Repentant encountered.”
Tarach frowned. “Aye, that would make sense. But... Master, surely if they are the spirits who saved the Repentant, they would welcome us as true believers.”
“One would think,” Aballan murmured. His mind raced. The hidden creatures had invoked Manach’s name. And they had told the humans to leave or risk Manach’s wrath. But Manach wanted the Red Rock Clan to prosper in the Mountains of the Sun. Aballan knew it. And the scouts had not seen the creatures, after all. Perhaps they were not spirits at all, but other men who seeked to usurp the Clan’s standing as master traders.
“I need to think,” Aballan murmured.
But Tagon would not allow him the luxury of thought. He ambushed the aging shaman that very night at the communal meal.
“What are these creature who claim to speak for Manach, but hide from us and bar our way?” Tagon demanded. He held up the arrow he had pried from the ground. “Look at it. It’s the size of a child’s toy!”
“Are you saying those were children who attacked us?” Tarach countered.
“Hardly. But I doubt they were blessed spirits of Manach! They could not even speak our tongue properly!”
“And who are you to interpret the signs Manach gives us?” Aballan snapped. “These signs are complex. I must meditate on them.”
“The message is clear enough!” Tarach said. “Manach does not want us to here.”
“Then we left the safety of our homeland for nothing!” Tagon snapped.
Aballan thought quickly. “We left our homeland to open trade across the barren lands.”
“And what a fine trade it is,” Tagon shot back. “Our horses can scarely manage the journey north across the sands. And we’ve had no luck taming those... those hump-shoulders! Filthy beasts – barely bit for food. The water here lies so deep underground we must toil daily to maintain the well! No, old man. You have taken us this far. You promised us prosperity and the blessings of Manach! Are you saying now that your vision was flawed?”
Aballan stiffened. Never had Tagon so openly questioned him. The hunter was growing too bold.
But he was right. The land was poor. Few roots or tubers could be gathered from the sandy soil. Their camp faced the north and the unpredictable desert storms. And their route across the desert was barely navigable. No, they would never establish themselves as traders if they had to ford the sands that lay north. Only by following the line of mountains east – and praying that those mountains eventually joined the fertile land beyond the desert – could they prosper. Only then would Aballan’s vision be vindicated. The future in trade and agriculture, not in hunting and foraging like some beast.
But how could Aballan ignore the warning delivered by the creatures in the rocks, beings as small as children yet with the power to make the rocks flow like water?
“Well, shaman?” Tagon taunted.
“Silence, boy, lest I cast a punishment upon your loose tongue. It is not for you to question he who speaks for Manach. I will make the appropriate offerings to Manach. He will give me a clear sign.”
Aballan returned to his tipi. He stoked the cooling coals and threw fragrant herbs over them to create the necessary vision-smoke. He painted his collarbone with red mud, then placed a hawk’s feather over the coals. As the feather began to sizzle and burn he waited patiently for a revelation.
No vision came.
Were the creatures truly the same spirits of Manach who had saved the Repentant from certain death? But if so they they had journeyed all the way into the desert for nothing.
No. No, to admit defeat was to admit his vision was flawed. And it would meant the end of him. Perhaps the end of the shaman’s place in the Clan entirely.
By sunrise on the follow morning he was no closer to peace of mind. He had stayed up all night in the hopes exhaustion would fuel a vision. But still he had no clue how to proceed.
Tagon sat down next to him, his spear in his lap. “Listen, old man,” he whispered low. “You have a choice. You can tell the people that you’ve misread the signs, and brought us here against Manach’s will. And if you do, they I will see you declare yourself a false shaman and accept banishment from the tribe. Or... you can decide that you will conquer these mountains no matter what a mob of demon-children say. You can denounce their magic as witchcraft born of Gotara or some other creature of darkness. And you can marshal the warriors of the Western Clans behind you and lead a Sacred War against them.”
Aballan stiffened. “But what if... they are spirits of Manach? Would you invite damnation on us?”
Tagon smiled tightly. “You’ve always said that none can question a shaman’s vision. Especially when weighed against the words of beastly shadow-demons no bigger than children.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know any creature that kills by arrows can surely die by arrows.”
“Oh... I know you would love nothing more than to enlist the aid of the Western Clans... the clans where the shamans have long since ceded authority to the hunters.”
“Now, now, old man. I’m giving you a chance to see your grand vision fulfilled. The mountains will be ours. You’ll have your trade route. I’ll have the prized title of Defender of Manach and my undisputed place as chief hunter. Come. It is almost High Summer. We will go to Assembly in one month’s time and urge the other clans to join us in a new Sacred War. No matter what black magic the shadow-demons possess, they will not be able to overpower two hundred strong warriors. We will own the Mountains of the Sun, the greatest trophy any chief could hope to claim.”
Aballan weighed his words carefully. Yes... it was true that he had often longed for the days when blasphemy existed to be rooted out. A Sacred War could unite the Children of Manach in purpose like nothing else. And what a legacy he would leave...
But the lingering fear that they were indeed transpassing on Manach’s sacred ground make him hesitate.
“If we return to our homeland in disgrace I’ll see that no shaman ever holds power in the clan again,” Tagon promised. “No more eating double-portions while others go hungry. No more pick of women. No more mouthpiece of Manach. You know I can do it, old man. All the hunters support me. Now... I want you to think very carefully about what I’ve said. Kill a bird and examine its entrails if you want. Sweat and chant and let yourself hear Manach’s guidance. But make sure you are seeing the right signs.”
Aballan was sullenly quiet. At length: “Why give me a choice? Why not declare me a false shaman, claim leadership of the clan, and turn us all west to our homeland? Why do you want this war?”
“My father collected scalps of the Blasphemers he killed. A shadow-demon’s scalp is a far greater prize, is it not?” He got to his feet and glanced at the distant mountains. “Besides,” he added more softly. “I don’t like my way being barred. Not even by gods.”
Aballan held his head in his hands and wept.
He had gambled and lost. Either way, Tagon would win.
Unless... he could gamble for even higher stakes... and usurp Tagon’s power at the moment of the hunter’s greatest victory.
A new Sacred War. One in which they would not only eliminate the creatures that barred their progress, but the arrogant hunters as well. Tagon thought he could control the hearts and minds of brute men, but he knew nothing of true manipulation. Who knew what powers the demons might have... powers only a shaman could hold in check. And who knew what witchcraft could strike Tagon down on the eve of battle?
A call to arms. Yes. The future of the shaman’s line depended on it.
The mountains would be theirs. And whatever lived within them – spirits, demons, or simply beasts with the powers of speech – would fall before the true Children of Manach.
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