Quickly I ducked back around and braced myself against the wall as I heard him say, “Uh-h-h … I guess not.”  With my elvin-hearing I thought I heard him mutter, apparently to himself, “Now that was a damned swabby thing to ask …” I heard something like cloth swish and I peeked back around.  He had taken his hat off and was wiping his head with his sleeve and muttered again, “… of course he doesn’t ride.  They wouldn’t stand for …” I saw him glance my way and I ducked my head back.

Momma was looking at me and smiling to herself as she walked back to the door.  It sounded like the old man chuckled and muttered again, “I’ll be jiggered … he can probably hear a tuna breathe at forty fathoms below.”

My momma stepped down to the snow-packed ground and I looked around to watch and I noticed he had put his hat back on.  That old man must be a demon to ride that horse, but my momma … I, I couldn’t wait to see what powers my momma could have over it.

I was mesmerized watching as my momma slowly walked up to that big, black-red horse with the fire coming out of its mane and tail.  The old man had a smile on his face and I was afraid he would try to catch her off guard and run off with her.  Right there I made up my mind if he did I would have to stop him.  How, I didn’t know, but scared as I was I knew I would do whatever I had to do.  I breathed in real deep and prepared myself to die in battle to save my …

She reached out her hand and the stallion raised his hoof again.  For me the air was thick with anticipation, but my momma’s face was tranquil as I heard her start to hum.  The horse put his nose into my momma’s hand as gently as if he were a newborn foal.  She fed Dahnté the apple and looked over to me with a smile; but then she did something else, something that bothered me deeply … she then looked at the old man and smiled at him, too. 

That was my smile, and he was taking it.

They looked at each other for a long time, at least a whole minute or two.  She rubbed Dahnté on the nose, under the chin and between his ears.  Then she looked at me and I saw her face change, if just ever so slightly.  She knew I wasn’t happy.

Glancing toward the main keep, the old man broke the silence and spoke to her with a serious undertone, “They probably wouldn’t make it a point to tell you, but war is comin’ to Gevard.  A new chief is risin’ up among the orgs and Stone Bridge has already taken to arms.  For ten days we stood siege and won over those gaffers, but it is a surety they are plannin’ to move on our eastern border, en-mass.

“Even as we speak, riders are movin’ fast to spread the word and call a meetin’ with the Chancellor and Council of Dukes.”

He glanced up to our chimney, then to the far off tree lines in the mountains.  The old man reminded me of my momma when she had something on her mind, but wasn’t sure what or how much to say.

“I think maybe three to four weeks, possibly five, maybe even six, but the attack will come, you can depend on it.  I think closer to three, unless I can convince Autler to launch our own attack, get them before they get here.”

She glanced in the direction of the main keep, “Will they want you to reprise your role as Duke?”

The old man looked at my momma with reserved sarcasm, “No, oh no.  Not with Hestlin about to gain full vestment.  He’s been Bor-Duke for too long, and the clan wasn’t exactly pleased with me, to begin with.”

He looked down at his saddle, then back at my momma, “It’s been what, a bit over fourteen years?”

My momma replied, “Fourteen years, seven months, and eight days today.”

I just looked at her and thought, ‘Huh?’

He took off his hat and dusted some imaginary dirt from it and adjusted the crease in the crown, then the feather.  Draping it on the fold of his elbow he looked up and somehow he looked defeated when he said, “Yes.  Yes I guess it has been that long.”

Again the moments became awkward and then my momma asked, “You didn’t find what you were looking for?”

“No,” the old man replied, and I thought he looked to be in emotional pain as he added, “I didn’t.”

His features took on a haunted look, and then looking over at me he asked, “How old is the boy?”

“He is only turned twelve.  His name is Komain J’Sehf.”  My momma said with some degree of pride.  I don’t know why, but I felt a warmth swell up in me the way she said it.

The old man’s face changed a little and glanced from me, to my momma, then back to me.  “J’Sehf …” he said, “That’s Elvish for …” he hesitated.

Then my momma added, “… for Josephus.” 

I was completely lost.  ‘So what,’ I thought.  They were speaking on levels that were beyond me, it wasn’t fair.

“Aph tahoist neh siunehti qohm faiyoh?”  His question caught me by total surprise.  Not only did he just ask my momma’s permission to come visit, but he did it in Elvish, in particular, our own dialect.  Where did he learn that, and why was he asking in the first place?  Nobody asked, they just came.

“Hestä,” she answered softly and with a smile, “… gohm aph siun-s’sutahni.  Pu’tahii.”  Now I was really confused, and upset.  She just gave him permission, and then thanked him for asking.

I saw a little smile cross his face, almost a kind of relief.  Putting his hat on his head, the old man pulled the brim and nodded toward my momma, another action I didn’t understand, and turned that big horse and rode away at a canter. 

Chapter   5

________________________

 

 

WAR!  THAT CHANGES things.  So far, all I knew was what I had heard from my momma’s stories, but she had seen it, smelled it, and lived it.  She still wouldn’t tell me any details and truth to tell, I don’t think any of the humans really knew much about her, either; none of them, except maybe the old man, and I wasn’t so sure I liked that.  It had only been us for as long as I had been born, forever, and the thought of sharing anything about her went up the wrong side of my hair.

When he had ridden away that first time, my momma stood there for a couple moments and watched; then she walked back in and kneeling beside me, we watched until you couldn’t hear the hoof-beats anymore.  Turning to look at me, I could tell she was waiting for me to say something, so I did.  Very plainly I said, “I don’t like him, momma, I don’t like him a whole lot.”

It’s not what she wanted to hear me say, I could tell, but she thought about it, closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, and slowly nodded her head, “I can understand,” she said softly.

Whatever my momma thought she knew of the old man, I was sure she was wrong.  He was human, and that was the end of it.  Humans couldn’t be trusted.

Our evening was quiet and I could see momma had a lot on her mind.  We had eaten and cleaned up when curiosity go the better of me and I asked, “Momma, who was he?”

She smiled at the question and answered, “How about I tell you who he is, the short version?”

I nodded enthusiastically and settled in for what just might be a story; and I never tired of my momma’s stories.

“At the Time of my Taking …” uh-oh, I thought, this was going to be tough, or hard, or both; all I had heard so far about that terrible time was that everyone in her family had been slain, and she taken by humans, then brought here to Gevard.  Only she never talked about it, and she only referred to it as the Time of her Taking.  Even now she was hesitant.

Breathing deeply, then exhaling a slow sigh, she continued, “… there was this … this young human man.  He wasn’t like the others, but I didn’t know it at first.  He wasn’t in charge and was only a lieutenant, but I remember him getting upset and challenging his superiors, saying he wanted to go on record that he didn’t approve … didn’t approve what was happen- …” My momma fought to keep control and I was aware enough to hold her hand, which she squeezed back, “… He didn’t approve of what was going on.

“I remember he got into serious trouble because of that.  His superiors called him weak; they even stripped him of his rank and position.  When we, when they brought me to Gevard … I didn’t see him anymore for a long time.  Later, much, much later, I learned he had been exiled from his family, the House Fel’Caden. 

“Then one day, more than forty years later, he returned a very wealthy man, only people were calling him Roveir, instead of his birth name, and that is how I got to know him.  Over the next eleven years, turbulent family politics led to a grave need for a new Duke to be established from a different side of the family.”

“Wait, momma, they’re all human.  How come he’s still alive if he was there when, when your Time of Taking happened?”

“Because, remember me telling you there were some humans who live a long time, at least a long time for humans?”

I nodded.

She hesitated and thought about how and what to tell me, “There were once many children in the first Fel’Caden family, and all of them lived a long, long time compared to other humans.  But as they married regular humans and had children, they lived shorter and shorter life spans.  Now there are only a few left who live a long time.  The man on the horse is one of those, and Roveir is one of the last.

“A lot of the family didn’t like him because he hated slavery and other things common in this country, but he was strong, had good ideas to defend his home, and everyone knew where they stood with him, even if they didn’t like it.  So they made him the Duke.  Later, when war with the southern barbarians started, the Council of Dukes elected him Chancellor, the highest position in the whole country.  There hasn’t been any fighting on Gevard soil since then, and that was sixty years ago.”

“But, mamma,” I looked at her emphatically, “why are you still a slave if he didn’t like it?”

She rested her chin in her hand and said, “Because even though he was Duke, a Duke can’t just change things, not even a Chancellor.  A Duke has to have meetings with Family Elders and make decisions together; a Chancellor has to have meetings with the Council of Dukes.  You see, we … we don’t belong to one person; we are declared property of the House of Fel’Caden.  But …” she brushed my hair from my eyes, I always liked that, “… for as long as he was Duke, nobody ever came and gave me bad visits.”

I thought about that, and as much as I didn’t like him, this Roveir, well, maybe there was one good thing about him.

The next morning was Sabboday, and the House Fel’Caden was a strong, religious lot.  Of course I never understood their religion. 

My momma had taught me well in the reverence, worship, and statutes of Jh’Rhohai, who the T’dahrosheim revered as the All Father and Creator.  Jh’Rhohai was more of a title than a name, although as I got older I privately questioned how a father could let all the bad things happen to us.  Where was He; didn’t He listen to my momma’s prayers?  The way I saw it, when my momma was taken, her family killed, and all the other bad things that were done to her … well … if He really existed, then He was watching, and He had done nothing about it.  I never said anything like that to my momma, though.

As far as the House Fel’Caden goes, momma said they worshiped someone called Eayah, supposedly the god of the sun, knowledge, wisdom and benevolence.  But what kind of religion is it that lets you do all that holy benevolent stuff, pray loud prayers, give money to a priest covered in jewelry, and in the evening walk down to the elf quarters and rape the woman in there just hours after the religious service?  It was a question burned into my mind, even as a young child.  I’m still waiting for an answer, an answer I never expect to receive.

I’ve also wondered, although not so intently, why humans seem to wait for one day a week to pray to their deity, who or whatever it is?  Momma taught me to pray anytime; our church was among nature itself, not a stuffy building or an ornate chapel.

In any case, being Sabboday morning, momma and I wouldn’t have to go out and work.

Once our breakfast was finished, she started looking around the inside of our quarters like I had never seen her do before.  She looked at me, then the Dream Catcher designs, to the fireplaces, and then back at me.  It was sort of spooky watching her.

She walked into the rock room and looked around some more and then calmly asked, “Komain, would you come in here, please?”

I’ve watched a lot of human parents with their young and I’ve seen a lot of the young argue with those parents.  There was none of me arguing with my momma.  If she asked me to do something, I did it and asked why later.

I went into the rock room and she had me stand back against the wall.  Reaching down she grabbed some loose dirt into her hand, then took one of mine and made me feel the back of hers and asked, “Can you feel this?”  Then the dirt in her hand began to slowly swirl.  As it did, my momma looked carefully in my face like she was looking for something.

At first I felt nothing but her hand, but then … could I feel the dirt moving, somehow?  No.  But her hand did tingle; only her hands tingled a lot.  Sometimes just being next to her it kind of felt like bees were buzzing, a little, but I thought nothing of it.  I looked at the dirt; she wanted me to feel the dirt, but I couldn’t.

Disappointed in myself I said, “No, momma.”

With her ever patient smile, she said, “It’s okay, Komain, you will.  There are things I haven’t been able to teach you … or show or tell you … but there are still a few things I can.”

I started to ask a question but she then turned, looked to the floor, and tossed her handful of dirt out into the middle.  Usually when we drew on the floor we used sticks, sometimes our fingers.  This time she moved her hands about while humming some sounds I had never heard before, then with a clap of her hands and a flourish of fingers she circled her left hand upward and right hand down … and a whirl of dirt rose up from the floor, spun around, then settled into a miniature version of mountains and several valleys.

Astounded, I just stood there with my mouth wide open.

“Momma …” I started slowly and with awe, “where did you …”

“Komain,” the tone in her voice was gentle, yet firm as she said, “I need you to listen to me.  I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk with you like this again.  We have a very special, important time in front of us.  I know you don’t understand, but one day you will, I promise.”  I noticed she was scrunching her forehead a little, and then she rubbed her temple some, like she had a headache, which she almost never had.

“If you were flying up high like a bird and looked down, this is what Gevard looks like.  See the mountains … and this big river over here?  Guess what?”  She moved over to a spot off to the edge and pointed.  “This, Komain, is where we live.”  Rolling her hands once more, the dirt again moved and I could see little tiny buildings rise up from the dirt.”

“Wow-w-w!”

She pointed to this one large building which was connected to several smaller ones, all surrounded by two walls.  There were some buildings connected to the inner wall on the inside, but there was only empty space in between the two walls.  Overall it looked like a big egg, and at the big end was a gate with four big towers.  Two more gates were on either side of the little end.

As I stared, I noticed not far from one of the small gates was another little group of buildings.  I got close to see and noticed a whole bunch of apple trees and two figures moving.  My eyes got even bigger as I saw these were a woman and a little boy ... and they were dancing around the trees, “Momma!” I said in excitement, “It, it’s you and me!”

I saw her get excited, too, but she was dabbing at her nose.  I had seen the humans get sick a lot and touch their noses, but never my momma and I asked in concern, “Momma, are you getting a man-cold?”

She shook her head, and then pointed me back to the buildings.  “This one,” the big building in the inner wall, “is the Main House.”  Pointing her finger around the outer wall and waving at everything inside, “This is called the Main Keep, sometimes it’s called Castle Fel’Caden.  And this big gate is pointing to the southeast.” She pointed to the small gate at the top left, the one we could almost see off in the distance from our quarters.  “Do you know what direction this is?”

Bouncing just a little, trying to remember, I said, “North … um … north-ea- … no, it’s the west.  It’s the west, right momma?”

My momma smiled and winked at me, “That is exactly correct.”

I jumped up in pride.  Again I looked at my momma as she wiped her nose.  I was going to ask again if she was getting sick, but she pointed again and began to explain as the floor began to move some more.  My attention was captivated by this new experience.

“Almost nineteen hundred years ago, six family groups came here to settle and mine the iron ore around these mountains.  This big building was the third fort built and the only one still standing.  The six families claimed large sections of land, each with their own mine and farmlands.  For a long time they called themselves the Six Lords of Gevard.”

As my momma talked, the floor moved again and I could see the whole country of Gevard.

“As time went on, others came to settle, and of course children were born to the original families who wanted to be lord of their own lands.  Eventually the lands overlapped each other and they fought among themselves for control.  A Peace Parlay was finally called and rules were drawn up.  Borders were agreed upon,” suddenly I saw little lines all over the country, “and each big section became known as a county, and each county was controlled by what became known as a Count or Countess.” 

“Since that time, families have gotten even bigger, so all of these counties have been split up into smaller portions of land.” I saw even more lines on our floor map.  “What used to be called a county is now called a province, and the smaller portions are now called counties.”

My momma was going slow, hoping I was following her, and I think I was doing pretty good.  She was a good teacher, and like I said, she was going really slow.

“Today there are sixty-one provinces, each of which has from three to eight counties.  Some counties are from ten to twelve miles across; a few are twenty miles across like some of those here in Fel’Caden Province.  Each Province has its own Main Keep, or castle, and a couple have two or three.  Each county has at least one town or village.”

I creased my own head, and looking down at the map I asked, “How big is a mile, momma?”

The floor map changed again to show the Main Keep and she pointed, “If we walked all the way around the outside wall, we will have walked about one mile.”

Staring, I just said, “Wow-w-w!”

With her finger she pointed around the outline of Gevard’s border and said, “Today, Gevard is about four hundred and fifty miles north to south, and three hundred and twenty miles east to west.”

I just looked up in awe.  With a smile she added with a knowing whisper, “The Itahro Range is much bigger.”

Momma pointed back to the map and continued my lesson, “The Main Keep is right in the middle of Fel’Caden Province, and this is important, so let’s remember.  We are the second largest province with seven counties; each county has its own count or countess.  The count or countess position is usually inherited, and when there isn’t a duke or duchess, they get together to decide who will become the new leader of the province, which is called the duke or duchess.

“Do you understand, so far?”

I thought about it and shook my head yes.

“The duke or duchess keeps that position for as long as they live, or unless they give it up.  But there is a whole new position, the person who is the leader of al-l-l of Gevard.  This person is called the Chancellor.  The duke or duchess of each province gets together every six years to decide which one of them will be the leader.  That person takes their family, if they have one, to live here,” the floor changed to show the whole country and in the smack middle of it was a bigger version of something that looked a lot like the Fel’Caden Main Keep, “until a new chancellor is elected.  This place is called Strattengar.”

The outline of Gevard came up again, and then the outline of just Fel’Caden Province.

“Now look carefully, our province is on the far right side of Gevard … this is the east.  Roveir said we were going to be attacked from the east.  It’s a long, long way from here to Strattengar.  Now, each county has its own town or village, but they won’t be nearly as safe as the Main Keep.”

My little mind was thinking hard, and I was staring at everything.  I knew my momma, she was getting ready to tell me something I wasn’t going to like very much; I probably wasn’t going to like it a whole lot.

My momma took my hand and squeezed, gently, and pointed to the moving floor map, “I don’t want to scare you, Komain, but in case something happens and we get separated, this is what I want you to do, and we are going to talk about this over and over again, until you have it in your so smart little mind; and until you can look at me with your precious blue eyes and tell it to me on your own.”

I looked up at my momma; she had tears going down her face and blood was trickling from her nose.

___________________________

 

 

From east to west, Fel’Caden Province was a bit more than forty miles across.  The main keep was just off center to the east and higher up than most of the surrounding land, with the exception of the east, which kept climbing in elevation in the heart of the Sahrjiun Mountains.  About sixteen miles on the eastern border, of both Gevard and the province, lay Brakstein Ridge.  On the other side lay the deep Neispao Gorge, this marked the Gevard boundary.

Five miles to the west rose Mustron Bluff, which traditionally was used as a lookout point and could oversee the entire province and into the connecting provinces.  The main keep lay in the center and west of the two higher counties, the other five were below and were where much of the agricultural work was done; forests were everywhere and well tended.

The safest place anywhere around would be inside the keep walls, she explained.  I had not been properly trained in forest science, and while she had learned of secret tunnels, my momma was loath to teach them to me, simply because it would lead me into a world I was not prepared for.  There were two tunnels, however, that only the animals remembered which might make all the difference in my safety, “Just in case,” she explained.

Well concealed under the rose garden she had grown among the far side of the apple grove, there was an ancient trap door built into the ground.  Under this door was a long ladder made of steel which descended to a winding, rock hewn tunnel that eventually led to a metal door surrounded by skeletons.  Momma had actually been to this door.  It had a special lock on it, a difficult and dangerous lock, but with a sly wink she looked at me and said, “It was just such a lock as I had been trained by a master to divine.” With a double raise of her eyebrows she added, “And divine it I did.”

We both laughed, and it came to me that for a while it seemed her headaches had stopped.  I didn’t understand, but I was happy.

She went on to explain that inside was a room of wonderments and such things that the whole world had apparently forgotten.  There was heat radiating from deep below, which was easily explained within study of Druidology, but which the builders of the original fort clearly didn’t understand.  But there were rooms which were walled with ice and full of enough food to feed a small clan of elves for at least a year.  There was an oven which seemed to always be burning, a special fountain where pure water always flowed, and the air was fresh if not sweet smelling.

It was dark in this room, but the light was easy to make, and there were cots of woven cloth momma said were sometimes called a hammock.  A locked door was on one side, but this door she didn’t open.  By leaning close to it, she said she could magically see many hallways, but her senses warned her of death in the air.  The feel of the room, however, told her it hadn’t been stepped into in many human lifetimes.

“This, Komain, is where I want you to go if something ever happens and we get separated in a time of war.”

“Momma, how come you haven’t gone there to hide?”

“Because, my son, there are those who you can’t hide from.  Sometimes it is best to save a good place until you really, really need it, when you have no other choices.”  She studied my facial reaction and asked, “Does any of this make sense to you?  Do you understand?”

“Is it like waiting until supper time to eat our supper?  So we have supper to eat instead of eating it all up at lunch?”

Making my momma smile was the most important thing in the world to me, and she smiled a special smile as she said, “That is exactly what I mean,” as she tousled my head and pushed me over laughing.

I got up while giggling, and then she leaned over and talked real soft, “You know what?  I was able to change the open-lock secret.”  She leaned close to my ear and whispered in a way that it seemed to buzz into my head, and it made my ear itch.  But when she told me the secret, my eyes opened wide and I looked at her quickly, but she had her finger against her lips, “Sh-h-h … it’s our secret.”

The only problem with the trap door plan was that it was currently covered in snow, but to that, my momma had a solution.  That’s when she taught me how to crawl up our outer wall and hide with the honeybees.  She had already talked to them about me sharing their hive, but it would be up to me how long I could lay still in all that honey.  She had even put a container of water up there she said would last for days and days.

On the morning of the fourth day after meeting the old man, Roveir, my momma was again in the dairy barn.  I had been over there two days in a row to help milk, but this morning she had me do several chores in our quarters.  After that I was to work for a while playing my scales on her guitar.  After lunch we would go over floor maps and everything in preparation for the anticipated fighting.

I had played my scales and had just finished the classic elvin piece, Ahf’Tmyar Pioski, when I heard a knocking on the door.  Startled more so than frightened, because I had never heard anyone knock on our door before, except Barlan a couple of times, I stood the guitar in momma’s chair, slowly went to pick up a long handled wooden spoon, we didn’t have a real knife in our quarters, and quietly tiptoed over to the door.

Again I heard a knocking; three firm raps against the door’s wooden center.  If I had gone to the window I probably would have never answered the door, but I didn’t think about that, and like I’ve said, people didn’t knock, they just came on in.

Opening the door just a smidgen, I saw an old Roveir sitting on top of that stallion just a pole’s length from the door.  I just stared at him with my spoon in hand and saw he was looking right at me with a friendly look on his face.  How did he get there without me hearing?

“Hello, young sir.”  He sounded sincerely genial, but somewhat awkward.  “You played that Pioski very well.  Did your mom teach you that?”

I just kept staring at him while brandishing my spoon.  He turned his head and looked at a tree, and I thought I heard him mutter to himself, “Of course she did, moron, who else would teach …?”  Taking his hat off and brushing his head, he put the hat on his elbow, looked down then back up at me and opened his mouth to say something when I blurted out, “It is called Ahf’Tmyar Pioski in A minor.”

He half chuckled and said, “Well now, I indeed stand corrected.”

I wasn’t surprised and continued staring at him with a blank look.  After all, what would a human know about music?

“You know, I play the guitar, too.”

Now I was surprised.  Why would anyone waste time teaching a human how to play?  Momma told me it takes longer than a human lifetime just to get all the chords right.

“May I get down?”

I kept staring.

“I guess that’s a no?”

“Yes.”

“You mean I can get down?”

“No.”

“Well, okay then.  Would you mind gettin’ your momma?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll get her for me?”

“No.”

“Oh.  So, do you think if I yell she’ll come out?”

“No.”

He winced at me, like he was trying to understand what I was saying, but I was answering his questions perfectly.

“Is your momma inside?”

“No.”

“Oh … can you tell me where she would be?”

“No.”

“So you don’t know where she is?”

“Yes.”

“And the reason you can’t tell me where she would be is?”

“Because I don’t know where she would be when you go there.”

Roveir smiled ever so slightly, “Well, you sir … you are just too smart a whipper for me.”

I thought about it, then nodded my head.

“You’ve got me beat and out-thwarted sevenfold times.”

“Yes.”

He put his hat back on and asked, “Well sir, if I by chance happen to go out lookin’ for her, where is the one place you really don’t think I should go look?”

I answered matter-of-factly, “The milk barn.”  Then I thought to myself, ‘Stupid human.’

Roveir dipped his head down and looked really stumped in thought.  Then he looked up with a shake of his head and breathed a deep sigh and said, “Well skipper, should you see her before I do, please tell her I came with important news.”  And with that he turned and rode off.

At midday, I was stirring the stew pot so my momma would have something hot for lunch, when I heard horse hooves en route to our quarters.  Running to the window, this time, I saw Roveir riding up with my momma behind him on Dahnté.  Once more, with spoon in hand, I went to the door and opened it, wider this time.

They came to a stop in front of the door and I carefully noted my momma’s arms wrapped around the human’s waist; I didn’t like it.  Roveir looked me level in the eye and casually said, “I found this princess walkin’ alone in the snow.  Am I correct that she is important to you?”

He caught me off guard with such a question, “Yes,” I said while still brandishing my spoon.

Nodding thoughtfully, Roveir then asked, “Will you grant me the honor to dismount and lend your momma assistance in gettin’ down?”

Again he caught me off guard.  Momma talked a lot of honor and I wanted to see what it looked like.  I hesitantly nodded my head.

Looking back, I am sure my momma needed no help getting down from that horse, but he swung down with ease beyond his age, and then reached up and helped her down as if she had been made of glass.  Holding each other’s hands, they made lingering eye contact, and then he graciously bent down and brushed his lips against her hand.  I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t like this, either.  Absent-mindedly I slapped my spoon against my leg.

Roveir dropped the reins and Dahnté went stock-still as that old man escorted my momma to the doorstep.  As they were walking I saw a thin necklace around my momma’s neck that looked to be a braid of silver and golden threads.  At the bottom was a jewel like a sapphire encased by a clear crystal.  It was breathtaking and when she turned in just a certain way, this jewel glittered like blue diamonds.

As my momma walked up the steps, Roveir stopped at the base and stepping one foot up, took off his hat and folded his arms on his upward knee and looked at me from just below my eye level.  He took a moment to collect his thoughts and I just stared at him with the same blank expression as before.  I saw the enormous age in his features, a haunting presence of uncounted defeats and victory, but despite his appearance of antiquity and his currently pleasant demeanor, this man had a vast amount of power and charisma left in him.

“You know, skipper, I know you don’t like me much, and I understand why.  You got no reason to trust anyone, and I don’t blame you, I’m not one for trustin’ my own self.  Were I standin’ on your deck, I’d be the same way.”

He was watching me intently and I was just staring at him back.  “You’ve gone through Zaeghun’s Lair and back, and I would change things for you if I could, but I can’t.  But I’m goin’ to make you a promise, I’m promisin’ you that as long as I live, ain’t anybody goin’ to come in on you and hurt you or your momma.

“I don’t expect you to believe that just on my say so.  But one day you are goin’ to see that I told, that I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

He nodded toward my spoon with a sly grin and said, “A body can tell you got a pair of steel bal- …” he threw a quick glance at my momma, then back at me, “… that you got lots o’ guts, and I’m appreciatin’ you not clottin’ me in the head with that spoon.  But we need to talk war.”  Roveir looked to the east, “There’s no way around it …” he glanced to the main keep, “… there’s a huge fat and lazy man in there who’s in charge and ain’t got no sense. 

“That war is comin’ right here and its comin’ quick.  A good skipper has got to be smart, and you’re goin’ to have to be a good skipper.  I’m goin’ to make sure the bells ring in time for you to save your momma and get her to that gate door, yonder.”  He pointed to what I now knew was called the West Gate.  “Can you keep your amazin’ hearin’ tuned to the sound of those bells?”

I nodded.

He smiled in a way I couldn’t help but smile back, and I tried not to, really.  “That’s a good lad, and the makin’ of a great skipper.”

Roveir gave me an emphatic nod, then put his hat back on and stood back off the step.  He glanced up at my momma, then stepped in Dahnté’s saddle so smoothly I almost didn’t hear the saddle creak.  He pointed a finger at me and said, “Stand fast the tiller and ready to beat to quarters.”  To my momma he pulled the front of his hat again, and then he was gone at a fast clip.

That made twice he had ridden up to our doorstep, then galloped away into the snowy weather.  Was he always in such a hurry?

I looked at momma’s necklace; at first I was going to question her about it, but it looked so beautiful on her.  Something about it made my insides tingle, almost like the bees buzzing.  Instead I asked, “Momma?  What’s a skipper?”

Chapter   6

________________________

 

 

MY MOMMA NEVER took her necklace off, and even though we didn’t talk about it, I knew it meant a lot to her.  Truth to tell, it looked like it belonged on her and I wished I could have somehow been able to give her such a beautiful present.  I told her as much one day and she took me aside; with much concern she asked, “Komain, do you know what you give me every day that means more than this pretty jewel can ever mean?”

I just looked at her and I felt tears starting to come down my cheeks, because I wanted to do something so special and pretty for her, my momma.  Somehow I was afraid if Roveir gave her pretty things she might give him all of my smiles.

She took my head in her hands and said, “You give me your love.  That means more than anything to me.”  And she kissed me on the forehead.  I gave her the biggest, most special hug I could give her.  From then on I didn’t think about her jewel again, except how pretty it looked on her.

Quickly we put together a duffle for the each of us; and she showed me how to do it the most efficient way.  We went over and over what to do in the main keep, because we were going to stay in the stable area with Barlan inside the inner wall.  It was really a special thing, she told me, because Roveir said the Bor-Duke wasn’t concerned about protecting the upper county slaves.  Why, he hadn’t even considered ringing the old bell.

Momma said when Roveir had been Duke, there had been battle drills all of the time, just in case of an attack, so the people who lived outside the walls could have a chance to run for shelter behind the outer wall’s safety.

It was three weeks from the day Roveir first gave us that warning that the bell suddenly started ringing.  My momma and I had practiced many times what to do, and while my heart started pounding, we moved quickly but smoothly.  That bell was positioned in the tallest tower atop the main house, and the range of visibility was large, especially in the snow.  So we should have plenty of time at the worst to get into the gate.

Roveir had told momma he had special concerns as to why orgs, or anyone for that matter, would want to attack Castle Fel’Caden with snow everywhere.  He suspected magical assistance; but who?  Magic was rare, especially in these parts.  Gevard didn’t even have its own wizard.  Roveir had heard of two or three tribal sorcerers up in the mountains, but that was his only guess, he had simply been away too long and was out of touch with things in general.

Momma said he had a serious problem with the Bor-Duke, Hestlin, calling him a fat pig who hadn’t been out of his wallow in ten years.  There was a reason he hadn’t been vested to the full Duke position.  Roveir believed the House leaders were simply waiting for him to die.  Now, with war at hand, they were going to be forced to go ahead and raise Hestlin to full Duke status, simply for political reasons, and it seemed no one was happy about it.  Roveir believed the fat-man, as he called him, was drawn back due to wartime responsibilities.

Roveir, momma told me she believed, was now taking on the Castle Responsibilities on an unofficial level; but at least someone with skill was doing it.

We were on our way, each carrying our own duffle and making good time, when we noticed off in the distance Barlan was having serious difficulties getting his horses and cattle together. 

Now you might think my momma would tell me to run on to that gate while she went to help; she definitely wouldn’t have ignored Barlan, she just wasn’t like that.  Instead, she said to me, “Komain, quickly, we have to help!”  It was the way she was brought up, to put others first, and without thinking she was teaching me that same ethic.  It’s one of the many things I loved about my momma, she was a true hero and I wanted to be like her.

We backtracked in the snow to the trail leading to the barn, and we did it at a run.  Barlan’s helpers had all abandoned him at the sound of the bell and ran.  Those horses were drafters and slow, but plenty fast enough to trample me and I was scared.  But my momma put a stick in each of my hands and told me to start singing So’finua dai Thudas, an elvin dance tune, and get behind the cows which were loose and head for the gate.

That song has a nice tempo and somewhat quick rhythm to it, but instead of asking why I did just what she asked.  Those milk cows stepped right out and started moving.  A lot of commotion was going on but I kept right on singing and waving my sticks and making for the gate.

Some of those horses had started a panic and one of those stupid humans must have knocked over a lantern, because a fire was running through the barn and eating all the hay.  My momma suddenly rode up beside me bareback on one of those big horses, reached down and grabbed me by my coat collar, and put me on top of a calf and told me to keep singing and look to that gate.

Now I was scared, and I watched my momma gallop to that barn and jump off in one movement, then run inside.  At first I wanted to cry in fear of my momma, but then I remembered she was counting on me and I couldn’t let her down.  I sang louder and that calf started to run and I had to hang on to a bell collar around its neck. 

Suddenly, from around the outer wall, I saw Dahnté in full stride with that old man riding low like a jockey.  It was too far for me to hear words, but I could hear echoes of what sounded like shouting from the wall.  How could he have seen …? 

Looking over my shoulder, I saw my momma staggering out of the barn carrying a scared goat, kicking and bleating in fear.  She set it down and it apparently saw its own momma and went running, and then my momma ran back into the barn. 

No one ever asked how the flames went out before consuming the barn, let alone all of the hay, and I didn’t know to ask.  But between Barlan, Roveir, and my momma, not one of the stock animals, not even the chickens were lost that day.

I was first to reach the gate, and we were herded through the inner wall to where the rest of the stock was kept.  The first person I saw, that I recognized, was Lexin.  He pointed his finger at me and laughed, what with me riding a calf and singing, but those cattle were following me, not him, so I didn’t care.

Jumping down off of my calf inside the keep’s barn, I was beginning to fret for my momma when I saw the horse stock coming into safety.  Barlan and my momma were each atop big, gray horses, and Roveir came in last.  It was one time I was glad to see him.  He made way over to where I was and looked down at me pleased like and said, “I wish I had you at Bindago, we might have won.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I felt like it was a compliment.  I still didn’t like him, but I gave him a smile and a nod back.  A smile of his own crossed his face and I thought I heard him chuckle as he finished helping put the animals in their pens.

The next few days were full of chaos, but I never really got to see what was happening.  Momma told me our castle was one of the largest and best built in all of Aeshea and not to worry.  Still, she had gone over three important drills, just in case, for inside the keep, like we were right then.  She told me you should always have a plan, then a backup plan.  Even if they don’t work outright, at least you have something to go by and having a well rehearsed plan will help keep you calm minded.

Never before had I seen so many people, and they were all crowded inside the inner walls.  I was to stay in the barn area, but it had two levels above ground and one below and built of that same solid rock.  When it wasn’t as noisy I climbed up atop the roof and looked.  The person I saw the most, and who seemed to be in charge, was Roveir.  I saw slaves who I knew from apple picking time, and I recognized some of those who had been children.  I even recognized those two boys who had dragged me around by the ears; only they didn’t look so tough now, they looked scared.

Momma said the nobility and all their children were kept inside the main house, but what came to my mind was that we were all trapped in this battle together. 

One of the things Roveir was concerned about, momma said, was that the enemy outside the walls weren’t orgs, but humans.  I found myself wondering what an org looked like, but I was glad they weren’t around right then.

Roveir had my momma helping with supplies and tending to the wounded.  In the meantime I was to stay and help Barlan take care of the stock.  It was the first time I was around him by myself, I mean when momma wasn’t with us.  I learned to be comfortable with him and even talked some with him.  He put me in charge of feeding the chickens, because that was one of the most important jobs to be done, and it made me feel proud for him to choose me of all people, me, a half-breed as some of the other slave kids were calling me.

Momma came to the barn sometimes to make sure I was all right and she told me we were under something called a siege.  She could never stay long, but she would spend a few minutes with me, and when I told her about my important chicken feeding job she became so excited.  She even took time for me to show her just the right way to do it.

For a while pieces of rock would sail into the middle of the keep.  I remember seeing one of those hit a man, it was the first time I had seen someone die and I didn’t know what to think.  Apprehension and self-dread washed through me, but another part thought, ‘Why didn’t he just move?  He stood right there and watched the boulder fly right at him.’

Just then a huge arm grabbed me up and violently spun me around.  I didn’t have time to be afraid as I felt the ground under me and this big person on top of me, at the same time I heard a crunching sound and the ground seemed to vibrate. 

It was Barlan who had thrown me down and covered me with his own body.  He got up quickly and looked around, and I saw right where I had been standing one of those big rocks had hit and then bounced onto and then off of the wall of the barn.  The enemy outside catapulting those boulders must not have known the main house, barn, and barracks had all been built in that same solid rock and wouldn’t be broken that easily.  But still, if it hit anything else, or a person …

Barlan picked me up like a little billy-goat and ran inside with me, slamming the door shut.  Setting me down he checked me quick for injury and said, “Ah need yu hep, Komain.  Da chikuns ahr squakin’ sometin’ ferce an’ day need yu to protect ‘em.  Go sang to ‘em an’ day be okay.”

So I ran to my post and stayed there the rest of the day.  Several times I heard thumps and rumbles where rocks were hitting our building, but we were safe.  Except my momma didn’t come back that evening, or the next.

Barlan kept me occupied, but I was worried something terrible for my momma.  I couldn’t fathom anything happening to her, let alone life without her, although outside our barn was lots of mommas, papas, even kids who would never go back to their quarters.  I could hear the screams through the barn walls; it was so surreal.  I could hear, but couldn’t see.  Some of them were slave kids who called me names and threw mud at me, but somehow, someplace deep inside I wanted to stand up and fight, I wanted to make the screaming stop.

Don’t ask me to explain it, but I thought I could feel the pain, not just the people outside but the animals we were watching as well.  The fear was so thick in the air, and even though I couldn’t see it, it stifled my breath.

The thumping of the rocks came to a stop late in the second day of the barrage, but when my momma didn’t come back I snuck up to the barn roof intending to look around for her.  As I got outside, though, the night air was so thick with fog a human couldn’t have seen the end of their sword in front of them.  But something wasn’t right; the fog felt weird.  It made my skin tingle and I felt the bees-like buzzing in my tummy. 

It was by happenstance that I looked in the direction of the east, but something had caught my attention.  I thought I saw a swarm of firefly bugs way off in the distance.  A moment or two of focus and sudden realization came to mind; I was seeing people flying in the air.  How, I couldn’t tell, because they had no wings; or did they?  The funny glow I saw was their heat, momma told me we could see living heat that humans can’t see.

My thought was to find Roveir … unless I saw momma first.  I looked hard all around, not sure if I could recognize the shape of his heat.  It’s something I had never tried before.  Nobody seemed to notice the flying people.  Then I saw him, or rather a big horse standing way off to himself who I figured had to be Dahnté. 

I desperately hoped Roveir would be close by, so I slid down the roof to the building the barn was connected to, ran a rampart to another building roof, slid down the roof incline to a shed roof, jumped to the ground and ran through the obstacles of human heat while bumping between this person and that.

I came face to face with Dahnté and he turned to look right at me.  He was chewing what must have been oats and in that moment I realized he must be a real horse and not a demon.  Why would a demon want to chew dry oats?  Without thinking I asked the horse, “Where is Roveir?”

That horse actually stopped chewing and looked at me, then he glanced behind me and I heard that booming voice, “Wait-to-hoy?!”  The knob of his walking stick touched me on the shoulder and I spun around.  His face looked ghostly in the fog, but he recognized me and asked with appall, “Skipper?!  What are you doin’ here?”

Taking no time to explain I grabbed him by his free, right arm, and pulled him around to face the glows I could see were getting brighter, “Up there, up there.  People are flying!”

He leaned down quickly and got seriously calm and asked, “They are what?!  How, tell me what they are doin’?”

Quickly I outlined their placement, how far up I thought they were, how far away, and then I could see something like wings, but the wings didn’t have glows.

Roveir wasted no time but said, mostly to himself as he worked with Dahnté’s bridle, “Damn!  Shavokahf hunters use gliders … use updrafts and thermals … understand winds … must have used Brakstein Ridge to jump … know of a glider once went thirty miles …” It only took a couple of moments to cinch his saddle tight, “This fog is probably magical … damn … only seen this shit in the islands …” and then he was up and reigning the stallion around quickly.  He looked right at me and said, “Skipper, full sail and man the ship, we’ve got to seize the wind … go, NOW!”

He slapped Dahnté’s sides with his heels and said, “T’romonfia Bosiuro!” Then they bolted away at high speed.

I was confused for just a moment; didn’t he just say Tower of the Bell, in Elvish?  Was that where he wanted me to go?  Did he want me to ring the bell, was that it?  This was important, wasn’t it?  Full sail and man the ship, he said … he must have wanted me to ring the bell.  Okay, then.  Now where was I?

Nobody could see but me and my momma, but where was she?  So how could Roveir see?  The horse … horses must be able to see in the dark, like cats and elves and owls … it must be.

Running and dodging I finally found the main house, but I knew no one would be about to let me in, so I found a structure of vines and started climbing as fast as I could, which was fast.  I heard horns sounding some kind of melody, and then the bells started ringing … what … I thought Roveir wanted me to do that?

Reaching the top of the wall and climbing over, I realized I was definitely not at the top.  Another wall with a walkway around, so I followed the walk looking for something else to climb and turned a corner to find Lexin and Jess.  They were standing in the walkway staring in a window giggling, “Look at her.  Damn, the size of …” Then they recognized me and started yelling.  I immediately turned and ran the way I came; only this wall wasn’t square.  There were narrow cuts and turns all over, almost like a maze, so I turned and ducked every which way I could and found the passage had steps going down.  I knew I was in big, big trouble if those boys caught me and I was now completely lost.

Twice I ran past narrow openings which looked over another room or corridor, up a short flight of steps beside a closed door, then down a long stairway.  Where was I?  Behind me I could hear my yelling pursuers.  I was glad they were loud; at least I could tell where they were.  Most places I ran you could see up through the walls, sometimes maybe ten feet, sometimes twenty, but now I only saw ceilings and not the sky.

I found a metal ladder bolted into the wall and I grabbed a’hold and started climbing to what looked like an open area up above.  Lexin and Jess were right behind me, but I noticed they weren’t chasing me anymore, they were being chased.  There were four humans with small swords only a few paces behind them and they weren’t wearing Fel’Caden uniforms.

In these corridors it was easier to see, and I saw Lexin run just past my ladder, then stop dead still by a door and turn and catch Jess as he ran into him.  Lexin shoved Jess into the first of their pursuers, opened the door, and ducked inside.  As Jess was pushed back I saw his face of surprise and saw an enemy sword run through his body.  One looked up and saw me and I did the jackrabbit right up that ladder.

I found myself in an open chamber, for sure, but there were people all over in a panic as I saw more of the enemy slicing this way and that.  Doors were opening, people shouting, and I had no idea where I was.  Nobody noticed me either.  Looking to one side I saw a statue and a big podium; I was inside a chapel, these people had been praying.  I couldn’t help notice the phrase on the podium, All Praise to Eayah. 

Two staircases led up and two down, but they were full and I saw more of the enemy.  Ducking behind the podium and around some curtains, I looked up and saw another open space.  Grabbing some curtain I tested it against my weight and hoped it would hold.  Scurrying up I was almost at the top when I heard more chaos, and this chubby little boy suddenly fell over the edge and tried to claw onto me.  He must have been maybe two or three years old and his hair was black; I could tell because it was all in my face and mouth, and he was screaming. 

I hadn’t seen it at first, but from where I had ended up in my climb I looked below and saw the curtain flapping around a deep laver of water.  If that boy had hit the ground below he would be dead, either by the fall or by drowning.  The drop was an easy eighteen or nineteen feet and the laver must be four feet deep of itself and built down into the floor.

Why, I don’t know, this human child meant nothing to me and he would probably ridicule me as he got older, but I took a chance and grabbed his greasy body and held on as best as I could.  In his hand he held a bone with nasty, foul smelling meat dripping in fat.  Instantly I began fighting nausea and didn’t know why, but somehow I hoisted him up just enough for him to hang on to my neck.  Despite him choking me and that rancid meat all over my neck and face, I worked hard to get to the top and almost fell several times.

That piece of meat kept rubbing my face and to my disgust I realized it was a foot, a pig’s foot.  Why would anyone want to eat a pig, let alone its foot?  Momma told me pigs were scavengers, and you shouldn’t eat scavengers.  That’s like eating a raven or a sarckle, and I’d heard of jackals and vultures in the mountains; all were nature’s way of cleaning up.  It was hard not to throw up, but I fought it through.

As I scrambled over the ledge, this hysterical woman came running over and grabbed the boy saying, “Thannael, Thannael, you’re …” then she looked at me.  She had long, medium brown hair, flat blue eyes, and from the gaudy way she was dressed you could tell she had a high opinion of herself.  On her forehead was a tattoo of the religious symbol I had just seen down below.  One glance at my ears, however, and her nose turned up and she backed away in disgust.  The only words out of her mouth were, “Sinful, sinful creature …”

Someone yelled at her, “Ahrnema, this way, hurry!”  She turned and ran toward her friend still saying, “… sinful, sinful, sinful …”

As I crouched on that ledge I looked for a place to run, but had no idea where to go.  I saw some of the enemy enter the chamber and start slicing everyone they could catch.  Even with my lack of knowledge and experience I could tell these humans hadn’t expected they would be attacked in their own big house.  The army men, I thought, they are all out on the walls where they can’t see in the bad fog.

For an instant I thought I smelled the snow; focusing on the ever so slight wisp of air, I looked up and saw some holes inside a metal frame in the wall next to the ceiling.  There was a statue just under it, but it was on a pillar higher than I could reach.  Then I saw two people fighting right next to it.  The sword of the one man was knocked to the floor and they were now wrestling each other. 

I dashed across the floor just as one man went to his knees, and taking a big gamble I stepped on him, then onto the shoulders then the head of the surprised enemy and grabbed the top of the pillar and pulled myself up.  The enemy man was trying to grab my legs but the other man was still fighting him, so I climbed up that statue and standing on the top, I grabbed that metal frame and it came right out of the wall. 

Almost falling, I got hold of the solid rock opening and looking down, saw that one man climbing up to get me, so I just slung that piece of metal onto his head.  He fell down to the floor and I pulled myself up through that hole and was thankful I was so small.

Finding myself inside another narrow corridor, I couldn’t tell if anyone had been in there and I could smell the snow more strongly.  I could also faintly hear the bells ringing.  I wished I knew where my momma was, and I tried to think about our plans.  If I saw bad people inside the walls, she had told me of a special place deep, under the chicken quarter, but I was inside the main house.

Our people came from the ice and snow and were masters of Arctic Magic.  I didn’t know any of that stuff, but I decided to go where the snow was.  I lost track of time, but kept following that smell.  The sounds of the bells were gone, but the smell kept getting stronger.  There were no lights, except sometimes little bits from under the wall or above, but I could just make out where I was.  There were some old doors, and twice I came by crossings in the corridor, but I stayed with the scent and the increasing breeze.

Suddenly I found the source of the air; it was another hole cut in the wall with a grate covering.  The grate opened like a door and that hole was just big enough for me to fit in.  I was so-o-o tired and just sat down to rest.

“Where are you, momma?” I whispered.  Closing my eyes I imagined her beside me, and I did it hard.  My lip began quivering, but I thought of her climbing Gadriel’s Peak to save the baby eagle.  She had been about my age, then.  And there was Kn’Yang.  I wanted him to be proud of me, too, even if he was already long gone to sleep.

I remembered my little pouch and the piece of dried meat in there, one of our emergency plans; momma made me promise to always carry some with me, just in case.  So I took it and ate some.  I felt better, so I climbed up into that hole and closed the grate back.  I didn’t think whether the hole went straight up, but lucky for me it didn’t, instead it wound around and around.  It was really dark, but I concentrated on being like a caterpillar and just kept squirming.

Finally I saw light, and then I was at the end with another grate.  Looking down, it was a longer drop that a human was tall, but I knew I could do it.  The area was out in the open but with ice covered walls twice as high as our quarters and maybe four or five times as big.  In the middle was a fire cauldron and four rock benches around it in parallel with the walls.  The snow was all around the ground, but it was hard packed from walking, and even though there was no fire, I could smell the ash was still warm.

Dropping to the floor, I looked around to figure what next to do and saw two closed doors opposite of each other, and one middle way up and opposite of the now open grate I had come from.  There was a rock stair up to the higher door and the snow had been cleaned from it, but there was no stair up to the top.  I did see a metal ladder, but it was well inside the ice, which was thick all the way around.

I could try a door, or try to figure a way to climb up.  Just then one of the ground level doors opened, started to close, but then opened wide as I heard someone yell in Gevardic, “We got some more in here!”  And then one of those enemy men came into the space.

He brandished his small sword, which must have been only two feet long and stained with blood, and said, “Common you noble whelp.  You ain’t alone in here.  Where are they?  Where’s your daddy?”  I was moving carefully and quick around the cauldron as he stalked me, then three more came through the door.  The first kept talking, “Spread out, there have to be more in here.”  Then to me again, “Eayah won’t help you now, pup …”

The man charged me from one side as another charged from the other.  A third yelled, “He’s alone …” but he didn’t finish his sentence.  No time for fear, I moved from one side to another, remembering how momma and I played at troll fighting, and managed to duck and roll under the first sword swing as it hit a bench, spraying ice all around.  As I rolled I got an image of something high above hurdling from over the rim of the top wall.

The figure landed right in front of the third man, did a roll and jumped straight up with a spinning move I was too busy to see, and that man ran right into that jumping person’s foot with a thump.  The new person grabbed his sword hand and with a twist, that man flew through the air and his sword went the other way.

The two chasing me noticed the new person and I heard, “What the shit?!”

That tingling sensation was all through me and I stopped for just a second to stare at the new person, who I noticed was now crouching low to the ground.  Blood was dripping from the new person’s face and I could see bloodstains all over the front of their clothing, but they wore a hood and I couldn’t quite tell … but then I knew …

The hands of my protector moved and I crouched down and ducked, so I didn’t see … but the bodies of both my chasers flew into the wall thirty feet behind us with a sickening thud.  The forth came up behind her as the high up door opened and the men started to come out and more men came in the first door.  To my horror I saw a sword enter through my momma’s back and out the front … but wait … she didn’t flinch … and while the man stood there for a moment looking confused, I saw a second image of my momma appear behind him, grab his hair, yank back, and do something I couldn’t see while the first image of momma faded away.

I heard something go crunch as that man jerked violently, and then another crunching sound as he dropped to the floor with a spin and didn’t move.  Momma pulled her hood back and slung her hair, but the sight scared me.  Her face was a smear of red and her eyes were so bloodshot I just knew she had been hurt.  But there was anger there, too.  I had never seen my momma angry before, ever.

She smiled an almost evil smile and said in clear words that echoed like a powerful song, “You … are not Fel’Caden … and that’s … my … baby …”

Can you imagine the snow everywhere, the thickest fog added to it, and then green lightning streaking through the sky?  I saw it then, and it was something to see, and feel.  A bolt of that lightning hit the cauldron and showered jagged bolts into most of the men there.  The heat and energy made my hair stand on end and my momma’s hair looked like white fire.

Her hands were waving like the time I saw her clean house and she began to sing some kind of music scale that resonated into the soul.  They weren’t words, but sounds like I can’t describe, and it grew in sound until it was like a choir of elves had joined her song.  Somewhere in the background I could have sworn I heard tribal drums beating a savage rhythm.

Those enemy warriors were trying to get to her, but she started moving like in a dance and the wind started to blow.  At least two or three men threw daggers at her, but they missed and hit their comrades.  Someone else threw what looked like three balls tied together with a cord, but she knew it was coming and bent backward at an impossible angle and I could see she was literally on her toes.  That weapon went right over her and hit another man, wrapped around him, and following a sickening crunch, he collapsed.

Two of those men dove at her with their blades ready, but from her backward bent position she put a hand down to the floor, did combination spin and a cartwheel, then she jumped into the air spinning and doing back-flips, up and over everyone between her and me, and landed between me and another man who was chasing me in a pose that made me think of a Shastien Eagle in full glory.  That man came to a sliding stop and just stared in awe … her back was to me and I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel the force of her momma’s rage, a wild-elf momma protecting her young with the fury of a savage beast.

My momma brushed her hands in front of her face as if she was swatting at gnats, and from five feet away my chaser’s sword went flying in the air.  Another wave of her hand and an unseen force hit him hard in the shoulder, knocking him sideways and a couple of feet farther away.  Then she stepped into a right-wise circle, spun all the way around and pushed her left palm at the stumbling man who was still several feet away.  I saw a blurred, but almost silver colored effect as if it were solid, frigid air between her hand and his chest as he flew over the cauldron, onto three more men, and impaled himself on two of their swords as all four were knocked down and slid across the floor and into the wall.

All the while she was still singing this song of sounds.

The wind had grown in force and it was picking up the snow from all around and I saw the enemy now was having a hard time keeping their balance.  I didn’t know where to go but the wind picked me up and put me way over to the side. 

I was now caught up in utter fascination as I watched my hero, my momma, a Dsh’Tharr Tell Singer working the power of her, our ancestors, and I was in total awe. 

More enemy came through the doors, why, I didn’t know, but they got caught in the growing maelstrom as well.  Suddenly all around the open sky room enemy were flying around, smashing into the walls and benches, and she was dancing … dancing in the air and right above that caldron and the wind wasn’t just blowing wild with ferocity, she was controlling the wind.

Slivers of ice were now in the mix and above the roar I could hear the men wail as their clothing was ripped, their swords loose and cutting, skin being rubbed from their bodies from the abrading snow.  The green lightning flashed again and I felt the hot energy rush through me, quickening my own blood with excitement.

I saw the doors slam shut, one as a man tried to enter and catching him tight; I heard the ribs shatter.  Blowing ice layered over the doors and solidified, freezing them in place.  The song reached a crescendo with notes so high it was making my own ears hurt, but the power, the power radiated through me and I found myself trying to sing my own notes in harmony.  All around her the men were carried close to the core of this Elvin Storm, and then violently hurled outward into the walls.  The wind whirled around my momma in a surreal fashion, and it looked as if she were glowing as the Emerald Lightning flashed once more … sending those slivers of ice toward those men, impaling each and every one of those warriors into the icy walls, the snow following and burying them with a polished white wall.

The next thing I knew, my momma was holding me close and whispering, “I heard you, Komain.  I heard you in the darkness and I came …”  I wanted to ask if she was hurt, because of all the blood on her face and clothes; but before I could, it seemed we were spinning in that whirlwind and into the foggy sky, where I somehow fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.

Chapter   7

________________________

 

 

DAHNTÉ HAD BEEN trained to obey commands spoken in our elvin dialect, taught to Roveir by my momma.  “I’ve seen wild-born mountain horses track like a hound-dog,” Roveir later told me.  “I meant for you to go back to the barn,” he added with a chuckle.  It was a couple of days after the attack on the main house and we were sitting on crates in the chicken quarter.  Momma was standing in the doorway and it was a kind of three-way communion, as she later put it.  She called it a tri-munion, which I thought sounded way neat.

It seemed I had accidentally found myself in hidden passageways most of the house members didn’t even know were there, let alone know how to get to.  But I wasn’t to ever let anyone know, not that I ever talked to anyone.  But Roveir knew; he knew lots.  It was one reason the elders didn’t like him; he knew things and wasn’t telling.

With seeming hesitancy and warmth of a smile, he suggested, “I’ll tell you, skipper … if you’ll let me.”

I looked up at my momma and I saw her eyes get big and wide with excitement.  Her face was so white and she has acted so sick since that fight.  I was worried.  She could always heal me, but how come she wasn’t healing herself?  I had asked and she just shook her head weakly and diverted my attention.

Looking back at Roveir I thought about it and shrugged my shoulders and sort of nodded.

He nodded back and seemed happy and said, “Well, we’ll talk about it later.”  He chuckled and looked to momma and back to me, then added, “By Winds of Torsham, you remind me of me.”  Roveir lingered his gaze upon me, “You don’t mind that, do you?”

I just looked at him and thought about it, then tossed some seed to some chickens.

He chuckled again and said, “That’s good-to-go; you think about it.”  Then he got a little more serious, “Now, I want you to understand somethin’ … don’t let that bit-, that woman Ahrnema scuttle your thinkin’.  Her momma and papa aren’t slaves, but they’re dry farm folk with a dirt floor, five hungry youngun’s and one acre for their own vegetables. 

“She’s the oldest and thought certain she should’a been born here in the main house as next heir to be Duchess. 

“She had a cousin who was a free-servant who lived in the house, and she finagled a deal to come live with his family.  They had her to scrub their own floors to pay her way, but she would have you think she was nobility.  She had some looks and several gents wanted to court her, but she made it clear she only wanted a count, so they all left her be. 

“Ahrnema got past twenty and was seen as an old maid, so she up and trapped a weak-minded soldier by gettin’ in a family way, thinkin’ she might get somewhere by marryin’ him.  But he got caught … well … he got caught doin’ somethin’ bad and was taken out back and shot full of crossbow bolts.”

He looked sideways toward momma, because she was standing more behind him, and asked conversationally, “Did you know a lay-priest named Phalquas, called himself Doctor Phee, it was his wife who …” he turned completely toward momma to tell his story, only she was shaking her head, “… oh … you know who … you know the story don’t you?”  She nodded her head.

I looked from one to the other; I wanted to know the story, I liked stories.  I said, “I want to hear the story.”

Roveir looked at me and must not have heard what I said, because he went on, “What I’m sayin’, is she’s no good.  None of the men want her because she thinks she deserves a noble, and the nobles don’t want her because … just because. 

“She insists that brat of hers, Thannael, is the child of her god and he’s divine.  Anyways, she …” he looked at my momma, “… well … she does whatever the priests want and tries to make the nobles happy, hopin’ one of them will take her to wife.”  He looked to momma again, and she nodded an approval, I didn’t know why.

“She had an older boy named Panjé, about ten years old, who was different in his thinkin’ somehow, and had started to have the twitch in his muscles.  She could be heard beatin’ that boy and yellin’ and askin’ Eayah to strike him dead.  Well, he’s disappeared and no one can find him and she’s singin’ glory to Eayah.”

He looked at momma and asked, “Did you know her folks came up to the gate up here one time, starvin’ mind you, just to see their pride and joy daughter, and she wouldn’t come down sayin’ she had no idea who they were.  The old man looked sick and he died before he got into the next county.”  Roveir shrugged his shoulders, “I learned all this in ten minutes.  The servants all hate her, say all she does is lay around and complain and feed that kid greasy food … and hang around whatever priest is there.”

Roveir sure liked to talk.  I’d never heard a human talk so much.

Turning his attention back to me he continued, “I’m tryin’ to say she only cares about herself, skipper, so you stay shy of her.  As is, she’s the only one who tells the story of seein’ a little boy with pointed ears.  She’s been askin’ around tryin’ to get someone to look around and burn the sinful one, as she calls it, as if the damned …” I saw momma raise her eyebrows and shift her body language, “I mean as if the codger hypocrite has any room to talk … but nobody’s listenin’ to her …” his eyes narrowed and he gave a sly grunt and mischievous smirk, “… least of all me.” 

He chuckled, “Think I’ll send her back to Miller’s Branch Village in Taylor County where she came from, let her teach school or somethin’.  Make her work for a change.”

I looked at momma who added, “The Bor-Duke was slain, and Roveir has been appointed to act in his place, at least until the siege is over and until a meeting of Counts can be held.”

Glancing at Roveir, he gave me a salute.

___________________________

 

The siege lasted another two weeks, but the worst part was over.  I spent most of the time in the barn and momma stayed with me, only it was me trying to take care of her.  Barlan was a big help, and helped me fix her soup and all. 

Roveir told me it was my seeing those gliders that saved us all.  Momma figured some kind of powerful wizard had made them all see like elves, because humans couldn’t have seen where to go.  But Roveir had been able to get a bunch of the warriors inside the main house to meet the enemy.  It took a little time, and people inside were killed, but castle forces caught them before it was too late. 

When the fog was gone, those enemy men were catapulted out into the field.  Eventually, a small army from Gevard made it to defeat the enemy around the castle.  This was the start of a war that lasted for years, but it was the last hostile act in Fel’Caden Providence.

No one had been taken from within the main keep and everyone had been accounted for, dead and alive, except that boy, Panjé.  I hoped deep down he had escaped somehow and was safe, somewhere.  I decided at that young age that no child should be beaten like that, whether slave or free, elf or human, or whatever. 

Ahrnema had been sent kicking and screaming, the story went, back to her birth-land, which was just a couple of miles from Neh’Krac Providence in the low country, where supposedly she was put to work under the one school master there, teaching young children their letters and watch them draw pictures.  It seemed the only reason she had been allowed to stay in the Fel’Caden Main House was because she was acting as private minister to the Bor-Duke.  Apparently when he was found dead with a sword in his back, she had immediately informed everyone her son, Thannael, was going to be declared the heir apparent and she would be Duchess by default.

I learned a new word from Roveir, although momma didn’t like it a whole lot, it’s called Flake; that, he told me, was a way to describe that woman.  Momma called her delusional.  Either way, she had serious problems with reality and was gone.

Roveir was re-appointed Duke, although momma said he got it by one vote and many were almost violently against it.  This much is true, however, he was as good as his word; he promised not to let any bad visitors come to our quarters, and he didn’t.

We still had our work to do, that didn’t change, and momma said Roveir tried to get us set free.  The best apple products in all of Gevard, however, came from the result of momma’s work, and the family elders weren’t about to let that go.  It turned out one of the most sought after trade exports from Gevard was a tasty drink called apple brandy, and it came right from momma’s trees.  At least we were left alone.

As far as we knew no one but Roveir, momma, and me knew about me inside the main house or her magic in what I learned was called a tower crib.  Something else interesting, was that about five miles from the main keep an enemy camp was found where everyone was dead, including a known sorcerer from the highlands, a swarthy fellow named Kroaft, one of those Roveir thought of in the beginning.  A dozen warriors had been strangled in their sleep, two more stabbed in the back, and Kroaft looked like he had fallen from hundreds of feet above.  The camp was nowhere close to a cliff or a tree.

There were also signs of a fight with a large creature, but the creature was nowhere to be found, only a severed lion-like paw and some feathers.

There was a lot of scratching of heads on that one.  Roveir told me about it, and he said he had suggested one of the other mountain sorcerers with whom Kroaft was known to have personal conflict.  No more questions were asked.  Only Roveir and I looked at my momma, but he suggested it wouldn’t be good to ask.  I never did learn if she had done that, but it would explain why she had been gone for so long.  But why would she, if she did?  In fact, I would have never even considered it if I hadn’t seen what she did to those humans when she found me.

After the Gevard Army chased the enemy from the locale, my momma and I returned to our quarters.  The grounds were a mess, but our quarters, on the other hand, hadn’t been entered.  Momma put her hand on the doorknob and a chunk of ice came out of the key hole.  When we stepped inside it was like a spring morning, all fresh, nice smells, and perfectly preserved.

Through it all, my biggest question was this; with all of that power, why had my momma never escaped from Gevard?  I knew there was much she said she hadn’t and couldn’t tell me, was that part of it?  What could keep my momma prisoner that couldn’t be seen?

During the next couple of years, though, I figured it out, or at least the gist of it.

With the guarantee of no nighttime visitors, momma began to teach me in earnest and she did it in many different ways.  From the beginning of every day we would speak and sing in a variety of languages, I learned drums and how to use my hands to speak in symbols, and in the dirt of our floor she taught me to draw runes and writing no longer practiced by any known peoples.

By rote she had me rehearse, over and over, pieces of history spanning across the ages, each in its relative language.  She taught me rituals and tribal dances with meanings I was not sure I could understand, but I learned them as best as I could, anyway.

Sometimes she would get those awful headaches when trying to teach me something and she would have to stop.  But I became aware it was when she was trying to tell me something super secret, each time in a different way.  I was thinking someone, or something had done something to my momma on the inside; someone didn’t want my momma to tell, or show, something she knew.  There was more, I was sure, but what? 

I have a big imagination, myself.  So I found myself wondering what could possibly have been done to my momma.

She showed me maps, as well, on our rock room floor.  When she was just telling me about places, she was fine, but when she made the floor move, her headaches came and her nose would bleed.  It happened every time, but when she tried to show me the Dsh’Tharr or Itahro Mountains it became severe, her eyes even got bloodshot and once they started to bleed a little.

“Momma, no!”  I grabbed her as I was bit by bit coming to understand; something she had seen or learned, something to do with our ancestral regions, or maybe more importantly some event that had happed there … somebody wanted it kept quiet.  As bad as I had hated to think it, why hadn’t she just been killed, unless … unless that somebody wanted more than just her silence.  But what?  In remembering things she had said, why did it matter if someone was Fel’Caden or not? 

And then I remembered Roveir, wasn’t he Fel’Caden?  Hadn’t he been there when she was taken?

“Momma, don’t do it.”

“But …” she said in pain, “You need to know …”

“Show me another way, momma.  I’ll figure it out, I promise.”  It was my first real promise to her, and I meant it.  One day I was going to find who did this.  And then I would hurt them, bad.  I didn’t know who or what, but deep down inside, I knew it was someone who lived a long time, like us.  For now that would be my only clue.

Yes, Tell Singers had what humans called magical ability, kind of like Druids, but different.  Now-a-days the word bard was being used in the place of Tell Singer, but you can’t compare what humans call a bard to an Elvin Bard.  Human bards are basically actors and musicians and that’s it. 

An Elvin-Bard, or Tell Singer, is an elf that has specialized in keeping the old lore and history secrets of times past.  They are also masters of music and more often than not, teachers of one kind or another.  Like Druids, a Tell Singer is usually brought up in their craft from infancy.  If they demonstrate the magical aptitude necessary, they’re cultivated with tender care. 

A Tell Singer learns by rote, their awareness and retention abilities are phenomenal, and are attuned with nature.  It is said a strong Tell Singer, like a Druid, can sense and feel magic just by being close to it, and they can talk with animals.  Tell Singers are rare, and one who can heal even more so.  A Dsh’Tharr Tell Singer, or Elvin-Bard, is the most powerful of them all, especially when it comes to nature and weather attunement.

I still had my own chores, which grew in scope, and I found myself spending more time with Barlan.  I still couldn’t get myself too close to those big horses, but I lost my fear of Dahnté and I stopped having those nightmares.  Barlan taught me everything there is to know about chickens, even how best to cook them and make a special soup that helped humans get over sickness.  He also taught me a good bit about goats, shearing sheep’s wool, and how to run a dairy barn.

Why cows didn’t bother me and horses did, I wasn’t sure, but I always had a good thing going with those cows.  The calf I rode became my first ever pet, and he grew up to be the dairy barn’s main bull.

Roveir was gone a lot, what with him being a Duke again and all, but sometimes he came to our quarters and spent time with momma.  If it hadn’t been for her, we might have gotten along, but in the back of my mind were the thoughts that he was human, he had been there at her Time of Taking, and he was Fel’Caden.  I was sure there was something going on they weren’t telling me, and I didn’t like it.

I learned how to do something else without momma teaching me; I learned to forget.  What I mean is, if I didn’t like it enough, I would just not remember it on purpose.  I got to where I would pretend Roveir hadn’t been there, and I would just not remember my momma liking him.  As a result, there are a lot of things I have flat out forgotten about him.

One thing he did, though, and it wasn’t for a long time I saw the reason for it, is he set it up so that she would sometimes go all the way to Strattengar to play and sing music for the Council of Dukes.  He told me, “If I can’t set her free, then I can get her some exposure.  Maybe word will get out to the north.”

To me it was just a means for him to take her away.  During those times I would stay with Barlan and he would make me a hammock which would swing.  But I worried I wouldn’t see my momma again, and next morning Barlan would always find me curled up in the hay with the goats.  If there was a baby goat, it would be snuggled in my arms.

For the most part, though, my momma and I had some happy times.  I’ve heard lots of human children complain about having to learn things, but I loved it.  Also, there was something about how my momma taught that made learning fun; it was those stories … and how she made them come alive, just in her telling.  She could speak in all kinds of accents, use her voice so many ways, and her animation … she never got tired of acting out anything she was telling.

I learned math, science, astronomy and art; music is a given with a Tell Singer for a momma, and I became proficient with several instruments we made at home.  But what excited me the most was the history. 

It wasn’t long before I could trace my entire lineage all the way back to Diustahn, and outline the significant aspect of each of their lives.  I knew the details of how before the Old Ones came the Dragons ruled the world and developed a high level of civilization, but an entity called Tiamat caused a war that nearly destroyed all of Dragon Kind.

The Old Ones were called the Diustahntei, and they left their birth world of Seun with a colony of humans to Sail the Stars, as the story goes, until they followed the Selestian Star to this world.  Ultimately their vessel crashed into the icy north mountain range of Sn’Ahquay, where the remains are supposedly buried under the ice to this day. 

The humans wanted to call this world Xn’Csero, the third world, because they themselves had come from their home world to Seun, which itself meant Second.  The name Orucean was chosen, however, during the first Ehleshuvah Dm’Fahrlnah, a fancy name for the High Elvin Council.  Many other things were determined, including; names for the days of the week, months, a dating system, names for the continents, standardized measuring system, etc.

Yes, I could tell you of the settling and building of the first Elvin Citadel at Ch’Hahnju, eventual battle and parting with the D’Rhoatna Ieshintow faction, elvin migration south and building of the Phabeous City, the Kl’Duryq War, and on and on.

At first, the elves were creatures of nature.  As they became more cultured, on the other hand, they began shunning natural things.  A group called the Dorhune rose up to retain the Natural Ways and they had all kinds of fearsome power.  From the Dorhune Teachings, Druidology came into being and focused on weather, the wilderness, wild creatures, and so on, but a select few humans were able to harness aspects of Dorhune Power to become Magicians and Wizards. 

Tell Singers were cultivated to preserve what the old elves called Ch’upia Fai, the True History.  Unfortunately, both disciplines were becoming a thing of the past.

The elves ruled, so-to-speak for ages, but humans breed like rabbits and reproduce thirty-forty times faster than us.  Contentions were rising up all over and the human frame of common thought became to push the elves right out of the sunlight and into the caves.  Human civilization, if you can call it that, finally took over.  Elves were pushed back or tried to fit in, such as the Abaishulek, often called common-elves.

As far as anyone knows, the last real elvin culture is in the Ch’Hahnju Mountains at the Citadel.

Somewhere along the line d’warvec, giants, leprechauns, trolls, chonatts, and the half-sized human race of gon’yia entered into the picture; each in their own time developing strong cultures and they are only the most prominent.  There have been other intelligent cultures to emerge on Orucean, most of which have disappeared or been wiped out in battle, but of them all the d’warvec are the only ones left with a significant presence.

Before you go around talking about d’warvec, however, you better get the name right.  All of the species who identify themselves as d’warvec are adamant about you, me, everyone, distinguishing them from a dwarf.  A dwarf, you see, is a short human with specific characteristics.  D’Warvec as a species insist they are physiologically different than humans.  The spelling of the name, D’Warv, is different, as well, with two syllables when properly pronounced, not one.  And then there is the matter of plural verses singular tense; one dwarf, two dwarves … one d’warv, two d’warvec.

There’re lots of stories about how d’warvec came around and some are downright right colorful, if you aren’t a d’warv, that is.  One belief is that they emerged from another world through a big hole in the ground.  A similar tale is that a great, unnatural storm occurred and a band of d’warvec came through a temporary portal from their ancestral home. 

Many d’warvec hold that their deity carved them from the stone and then breathed them into life.  The most popular belief, however, is that as the D’Rhoatna Ieshintow, often called D’Rhoaw or even Drow, left Ch’Hahnju they tried to magically change a herd of pigs into slaves and wound up with d’warvec.

Now, I’m not saying anything about what or how, because typically elves and d’warvec don’t get along and have had territorial wars over mountain country, but I’m saying if d’warvec came from pigs, they’re doing a big disservice to their ancestors, because pork is their main meat source in the north, and that’s just plain nasty. 

The only elves who can eat pork without getting really sick are the Abaishulek sub-culture.  They also happen to be the only Elvin variant which can get potbellied fat, and their lifespan is way shorter than the rest; go figure.

To this day I don’t eat the stuff; even smelling a pig roasting … e-e-e-yuck.  I learned that pork was a steady meat diet in Gevard as well, the reason we never saw it was because momma made it clear long ago she, we, wouldn’t eat it.

Other species, which the elves named the Gh’Nshyko Races, are those which reportedly were developed through magical experimentation on humans, d’warvec, and even elves.  Gh’Nshyko being a blanket name which includes any of those species like orgs, minotaurs, dinosuets, troglodytes, and so many more. 

Basically, the Gh’Nshyko possess combined traits of the original species and certain animal traits.  Intelligence is usually at problem solving and above animal reasoning levels, so they can implement simple tools and maintain a basic culture, but designing complex items like a crossbow or learning to read even a children’s primer is above their ability.  Underestimating their other abilities is a bad choice, however, because they were all bred at one time for their own very specific purposes.

The events leading up to my momma’s Time of Taking, as far as I could determine, traced back to the first Dsh’Tharr king, Oshang.  He had been a great warrior and was responsible for winning the Kl’Duryq War, but when he went home, the way I saw it, he should have stayed home.  Instead, some time later he got his best warriors together to go save a whole ‘nother culture from an evil he knew nothing about.  As a result they all simply vanished, poof, no trace.  The story is that a search party trailed them to a canyon where the trail came to an abrupt end.  It was as if they rode right out of existence.

Not much later an enemy force referred to as The Vile caught the Dsh’Tharr Elves by surprise and overran them.  The survivors split up in tribes, some of whom migrated to forests all about the continent, but the greatest tribe was eventually led by the fabled Gahjurahnge Chieftess, Lahnumae Ahk’Nohra, the grandmother of Kn’Yang.

After Kn’Yang passed on, at a very old age, mind you, another Great Chief was never ordained.  For whatever reason, the tribal leaders parted ways, each to govern their own band in their own way.

My momma’s father, my grandfather, Ml’Shain, wasn’t in favor of the parting, but apparently he wasn’t very high on the scale as warriors go, so his words of appeal went largely ignored among a society where prowess in combat and hunting was everything.  Well, momma didn’t put it that way, but that is what I figured, only I didn’t tell her that.

Maybe you can relate with me, maybe you can’t, but how would you feel always knowing your father or grandfather didn’t measure up in a society of warriors; always knowing it was he who should have carried the sword of leadership forward, only to be ignored by his peers; even worse, that maybe, just maybe, he was even a coward?  How do you deal with something like that?

Once the tribes had scattered and become settled a new enemy rose up, something worse than inbred cannibals, worse than poison spears, worse than trolls and Windigos.  This enemy struck suddenly, unseen and without warning.  In one battle, momma said, the entire Clan of Ml’Shain was slaughtered in the worst way imaginable, and she could never describe it. 

My momma alone of her father’s house had been found alive by some humans, bound, and brought south more than three thousand miles to the country of Gevard and made a slave to the Family Fel’Caden.  I still hadn’t figured out what had been done to keep her from escaping, but it was definitely some strong magic. 

Time after time I asked myself, ‘Why didn’t those magnificent Elvin Warriors momma talk so well of make an attempt to rescue her?  Had my momma’s people become cowards after Kn’Yang’s death?  Had those who had once been so fierce in battle been themselves utterly wiped out?’ I came to the conclusion it would be up to me to save us both.

Listening to me talk, you might get the impression my momma and I never argued, not true.  We had our moments and they got stronger as I got older, but I want you to take to heart I always knew who the momma was, and what the words respect and courtesy meant.  She taught me you never knew what the next day, or even the night might hold, so we always went to bed with a clear air.  I mean if we had had a problem, we had it worked out or we didn’t go to sleep.

Living the life of a slave, even though at the time we were being left alone, there was always the shadow of something going wrong.  Too many people living in safety take it for granted they will have tomorrow, not us.  It was not a rare thing for momma and me to give each other some little gift.  My favorite thing was to give her a flower, or give her a hug for no apparent reason and say, “Thank you for being my momma,” and she did the same kind of little things for me.

The day came, when Roveir couldn’t ride so well.  I had never seen a human get old before and I have to admit it was a curious thing.  Sometimes he would just sit with me and look at the trees while momma softly played her guitar or flute in the background.

One day when it was just the two of us he looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.”

It was the summer after I had turned nineteen, although I looked twelve by human standards.  I didn’t understand and he smiled at my expression.  “I wish I could have set you free.”

Staring at him I had no idea what to say.

“I tried to buy your momma once …” he looked down, “… long time ago.”  He winced his mouth, “But they wouldn’t let me.”  He looked at me with a sad smile, “You’re a good lad, skipper, Komain.  It would have done me proud to be your papa.”

After some contemplation I asked, “Would you have taken us away?”

“Yes, I would.  Anywhere you wanted to go.”

He looked around, “How would you have liked to have all of this, for it all to belong to you?”

I thought about it and said, “I would set all of the slaves free.”

Roveir laughed heartily, and I couldn’t help but smile when I realized he wasn’t laughing at me.

“You remind me of me, skipper, you surely do.”

We threw some rocks together for a while which made him happy, and then he said, “I’m goin’ to tell you somethin’ your momma may not want me to say, but I think you need to know …” he pointed out to the mountains, “Someone’s watchin’ over you, skipper, he is for sure.  I met him once when I was out there ridin’.”

I looked at him, “Jh’Rhohai?  Momma says He is always watching.”

He thought about it and asked, “Do you believe in Jh’Rhohai?”

“Do you?”

In a very matter-of-fact voice he responded, “Yes, I do.  I like to think I know Him well.”

“How do you know Jh’Rhohai?”

“Well now, your momma taught me about Him.  She taught me how your people find Him in the woods, and the water, and all over.  Then one day I started lookin’ for Him, my own self.”

“Do you have any kids?”  It was a sudden change of subjects and it caught him off guard, but only for a moment.

“Yeah, I have a kid, a son.”

“Do you ever see him?”

“Sometimes, sometimes I do, yeah.  I don’t think he likes me very much, though.”

“Why?  Is he stupid?”

Roveir chuckled a bit, then said, “No, no, he isn’t stupid.”  He had been doodling with a twig, then he tossed it to the side and said, “He isn’t stupid by a long shot.  I think he’s smarter than me.  It’s just that … I wasn’t there for him when he needed me, and now … now …” It was awkward and he just looked at me like he didn’t know what to say.

We sat there like that for a long time.  I looked at this human who momma said was feared everywhere he was known, but I saw a man who looked tired; a man who it seemed had something left he wanted to do but didn’t get to finish it.  Suddenly I realized I wasn’t afraid of this man anymore. 

Picking up a couple more rocks, I offered him one and said, “I’ll play with you.”

The biggest smile came across his face and it looked like he got younger by a lot of years.  He took my rock and said, “You’ve just signed my charter, skipper.”

We took our time and threw a bunch more rocks after that, and then he got back on that big stallion.  When he rode off he was still smiling.

On the evening of the next day, momma came to me with tears on her face and told me Roveir had been found that morning at his favorite spot on Surry Creek, sitting under a tree with Dahnté standing beside him.  He had fallen asleep and died that way.

The next day there was a formal burial and momma sang for it.  I saw where he was buried, and then momma and I went back to our quarters.  As we went back, though, I could sense the stares at us, many of them full of contempt.

The next couple of days went by with tension heavy in the air for us.  Momma grilled me heavy on the surrounding eastern mountains and a place she had shown me, map wise, called the J’Whanté Ridge Road, a dangerous passage following the highest passable ways of the Sahrjiun Mountains.  It was a trail blazed by the Druids long ago, and used by Oshang in the Kl’Duryq War.

I wasn’t sure why the urgency, until the morning of the fourth day after Roveir’s passing.  I saw she was packing a special bundle with some clothes and food.  She was very calm when she said, “Komain, my son, I want you to do your chores with Barlan and do them well.  Then come straight home, do you understand?”

There was intensity in my core, and a wave of fear went up my spine and the hairs on my body prickled.  I thought, ‘What was going on?’  But deep down, I knew.

“Momma …”

“Komain … do what I tell you.”

I felt the world go surreal, almost like the time in the tower crib.

Momma took my hand and held eye contact with me, then she smiled that smile I will never forget, “I love you, don’t ever forget that.”

I looked back at her and tried to keep my mouth from trembling, “I won’t, momma.  I love you, too.”

Walking to work with Barlan in the dairy barn was the longest walk of my life.  I was scared, not for me, but for my momma.  I wanted to do something, take her and ride off.  That was it, I thought, Dahnté was a warhorse.  I would leave early, find Dahnté, and then rescue momma.  It would all be alright.

Barlan and I were eating lunch when a searing pain went through my mind and I heard the words, [Komain, run … run for the mountain!]  I shot a look of panic at Barlan, who had heard nothing, and then we both jumped as a bolt of green lightning streaked down from the sky toward our quarters and a boom of thunder shook the ground … with it were the screams of men and sounds of death.

Chapter   8

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I JUMPED FROM our makeshift table, knocking Barlan off of his stool and scattering hot tea and bowls of stew all over.  Hurtling a barking dog who ducked low, ducking under a hoist hanging from the ceiling, and weaving through a couple of workers getting ready for their own lunch, I bolted as fast as I could to our quarters and my momma. 

The mental message she sent me was lost in my fear for her safety, it didn’t even dawn upon me she had never communicated to me like that before.  I heard Barlan yelling at me, but what he was saying fell on deaf ears, I had to save my momma.

Again, the deafening boom of thunder with that flash of lightning just as I was turning the bend of the trail; I saw the bars of the front window fly into the yard with a man tangled up in it, and the door was off of one hinged with three men strewn about, one was in a tree hanging limp.  There were other men standing ready, two had ropes, and I saw one of these run inside … I recognized him as Colsti; Phaul was one of those standing outside.

Suddenly I saw three filthy humans half drag, half carry my momma outside.  Her arms were tied behind her and her tunic was almost torn off of her body and those bastards were laughing.  I heard someone say, “We are Fel’Caden, you whore … how about that?”

I heard a voice of rage come from my throat I didn’t recognize as I blindly charged the vermin who dared to touch my momma so, and I heard Phaul point at me and yell, “Look!”

That’s when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone throw something at me, and suddenly a cord wrapped around me two or three times and I felt something hit me in the chest and back of the head.

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When I awakened it was to the worst headache I could imagine, and I felt sick to my stomach.  A toe nudged me and I heard a voice I hadn’t heard in years, “Well, well, well, now; if it ain’t my stub-Johnny slink?  How are you, stub-Johnny?”

As I slowly came around I found my hands were tied behind my back and I was lying in a foul smelling shed with manure all around.  Some of that manure was under me. 

Apparently I was in a stall for mules, and inside were two workmen and Cordis.  Cordis was kneeling at my feet and was stropping a knife on a leather belt and he was grinning.  There wasn’t much for him to grin with, what teeth he had were yellow, and not many of them.  Grungy whiskers spoke of a week’s ragged growth and he smelled like he hadn’t bathed in ten times as long.

The potbelly on the taskmaster hung way low to the ground from his kneeling position, but the rest of him actually looked kind of skinny. There was no mistaking Cordis’s intention, and I knew it.  I was fairly trapped and I didn’t even know where I was.  The smell and air made me think I was in the lower region of the Province.  Could I have already been taken to another county?  I was terrified for my momma, I needed to …

“Looky here,” Cordis said to the workmen, “we got us a scardy-cat, a real down-to-roots yaller-belly.”  He kept stropping that leather and eyed me keen and with contempt.  “Half-breed slinks can’t breed.  You can pump, but it don’t do you no good.  But you don’t got to worry ‘bout that no more.  You just gotta work.”  He laughed, “We’ll make some more of you with your mammy.  Ain’t no …”