Authors: Michael A. Stackpole
For the briefest of moments we burst through into a cavern. We rode a dozen feet above the floor and slashed through the cavern diagonally. While the stalactite that bisected me made me think the room was a normal formation, the afterimages of worked columns and a cowering dwarf told me otherwise. Having been in a Dwarven stronghold before, I turned to look back, as if my vision could penetrate stone as easily as we rode through it, but a stone shroud denied me another glimpse of the mountain's heart.
Flying out through the other side of the mountain, I saw what looked to be black bugs fleeing across a snowfield. Three wraiths chased after them, and though the whole sight grew smaller as we rode on, I was able to figure out what I had seen. A trio of shepherds were chasing down a flock that had been disturbed in the wee hours of the morning. If we looked to them the way they did to us, the shepherds would tell of ghost-riders raiding them, and I laughed soundlessly thinking that someday I would hear a bard singing a song inspired by our passage.
We sped straight across a mountain valley and again entered a forest. I reflexively dodged branches, but found myself getting sluggish. Lather covered Blackstar's neck and chest, and I felt thoroughly leeched of life. As Blackstar had come from Elven stocks, I had no doubt that he could go as long as any of the Elves' horses—I hoped, for my own sake, that I had as much stamina as the lancers themselves.
A vertical black line appeared impaled on the horizon. I expected it to widen as we pushed on, but it did not. Wider than a hair, yet barely broader than Cleaveheart, the line hung tantalizmgly just beyond my reach. It did stretch out, above and below, but trees and rocks, streams and hills flew past on both sides without affecting it. Yet even though I caught no visual clues that we were getting any nearer to it, I knew we were.
Suddenly it engulfed us with the enthusiasm of a Dreel shoving food into its maw. An explosive wave of heat washed over me; then smoke swirled around me and I heard the sound of Blackstar's labored breathing. I cut the reins to the right, and as the dawn filled the grove with the first hints of color, I ran Blackstar around and clear of the Elven riders. I heard Aarundel come out from behind me, and a popping akin to that of a cork being pulled from a jug chased him from the magickal roadway.
I laughed aloud even though my chest ached from the effort of breathing. I felt as if I had ridden for a month, though it would turn out that we had only covered ten days' distance of normal hard riding. Blackstar stamped and I immediately swung off his back. "You've carried me far enough, friend."
My legs trembled but did not buckle, my spine crackled and muscles protested as I straightened up. Looking about, I saw very weary Elves clinging to saddles or already seated on the ground, but I resisted the urge to puff up my chest and carry on as if I were not weak as a kitten. Leading Blackstar back toward the middle of the clearing, I looked up as one of the horses emitted a little squeal and leaped sideways.
Shijef lay on the ground in the middle of the grassy circle, huddled over on his right flank. Blood, black-red at the dawn's first caress, covered his muzzle and paws. He clutched a fluffy ivory bundle to his chest and snapped and snarled at the Elves staring down at him. If not for the blood and the little black legs jutting out of the bundle, I would have thought it a pillow or a Dreel-sized toy, but I saw clearly it was a sheep, quite dead, and, for the Dreel, a prized possession.
Aarundel half fell from his saddle and landed beside me. "How did he procure that sheep?"
I shrugged and Shijef swallowed, then gave us a gory smile. "Magick Elves have, magick Shijef is." He howled delightedly, and more horses shied away from him. He bit down through the sheep's skull and sucked noisily at the brains, which made me give him a wide berth. I led Blackstar over to where an Elf set up a picket line; then I stripped him of tack and rubbed him down with handfuls of grass.
Having fulfilled my duty to my horse, I stumbled off and collapsed into a heap. Sleep came swiftly, and mercifully did not bring with it a dream-recital of Dreel gustatory grunts, groans, and squeaks.
We remained in that circus translatio for three days, which still put us a week ahead of schedule had we not used so remarkable a method of travel. Discussion of how the Dreel managed to take a sheep on the ride brought me more into the company of the Elves, as Aarundel indicated I was the repository of all knowledge about the Dreel. I was not, but I offered a few interesting ideas. That, along with performing a little bit more than an equal share of all chores, made the Elves used to me and prompted tolerance from more than half their number.
The second and third legs of the journey pushed us deep into the vast forests claimed by the Elves as their gods-given holdings. Being as how I was from the Roclaw Mountains, where trees were wind-scourged, gnarly-branched bird-roosts, and that I'd only seen the forests in and around Man-lands, the Forests of Cygestolia made me feel as small and insignificant as most of the Elves probably saw me. Where other forests were merely stands of growing trees, Cygestolia was a place where the forest flourished.
Before seeing the Elven wood, I was used to forests where one could look up and see a narrow river of blue sky coursing between treetops. In Cygestolia the trees grew on forever, rooted in the ground at one end and amidst the clouds at the other. In places, trees grew closely enough together that I could not see through them, and yet, at other times, wooded vistas extended for miles. The whole of the forest seemed almost quiltlike in how it shifted and changed—as if in the woodlands tended by the Elves, all the world's forests could be found.
With Aarundel or another of the Elves along, I was allowed to explore the areas outside the grove-circles. Dunlan and Reysawin seemed to detest my company the least, so we talked of all sorts of things while I rooted around looking for berries, roots, and herbs of various sorts—the Elves were feeding me, but I'm often as much a meat-gobbler as Shijef, so I laid claim to parts of his kills and cooked my own food from time to time.
The Elves all seemed initially reluctant to speak about themselves, so I drew them out by asking questions about the Reithrese. No love had been lost between those two elder races, so the Elves proved less guarded in speaking about them—I learned, for example, that the Reithrese have a similar system of circii translatio, but they base theirs around volcanoes and geysers. As Reysawin commented and I agreed, the Reithrese system was not very useful, because no one would want to go to those types of places in any event.
As we drew closer to the heart of Cygestolia, to the city that gives the whole region its name, Aarundel mostly and Dunlan a little bit began to instruct me on proper conduct. Dunlan treated me as if I were gutterkin utterly unschooled and uncomprehending about anything the least bit mannerly. He laid down absolute rules, which could be summed up as "Do nothing unless specifically invited to do it; and decline most of the invitations, because they will be offered out of politeness only."
As he knew nothing of my background, I expected him to give me such a simple system of strictures. I got some of the same from Aarundel, which surprised me, because he had been to the Roclaws and had dined at my brother's table. I put his occasional curtness down to nervousness concerning the reaction to my arrival. I knew he wanted me there as a friend, but doing something that might tweak the noses of the Consilliarii did cause him a little concern.
Aarundel laid out more carefully the things I could and could not do and explained some of the reasons behind the strictures, as well as all of the penalties I could incur if I broke them. Most things would be taken as my being ill-bred, which was a given because of my Humanity, but that would make Aarundel look bad. At the worst I could be whipped, though Aarundel allowed as how, given I was his guest, I would likely just be exiled from Cygestolia.
Only one crime bore a more severe penalty. "Under no condition, no matter the provocation, no matter the necessities of the moment, shall you touch one of the sylvanesti. Not a babe offered by a proud parent, not a lady falling faint, not a grandmother dead and in a shroud." Aarundel's dark eyes became slits. "You must remember this, Neal, for you will be slain and she will be disgraced. If things go too far, if there is issue, it will be slain and the denied woman will be declared dead among her people."
I frowned and plucked a ripe blackberry from a thorny bush. "What if a big hole opens beneath her feet and only I can save her from falling into it?"
"No hole will open, but were one to open, you would let her go. She would want it that way." He grabbed me by the shoulders. "Promise me you will not touch a sylvanesti."
I nodded and winked at him, "I promise. I'm thinking you're just afraid I'd steal your Marta away from you."
"No, I have no reason to think that. What I fear is that you, who know her through me, and she, who knows you through me, might be so pleased to meet each other that you would hug or touch in an innocent manner, then both of you would be lost to me forever."
"I comprehend the source of your anxiety." I frowned. "Now this poor sylvanesti who has fallen down this hole, I could toss her a rope."
Aarundel shook his head with resignation. "Yes, a rope would be fine. She cannot feel you touch her."
"So if I grabbed her by her belt to stop her from falling, but didn't actually touch her flesh . . ."
"Neal! This is not a game." Anger shot through his eyes, then vanished. "Forgive me. I know you and can trust you. Others do not, and therein lies the potential for difficulty."
"You will never have reason to regret that trust." I slapped him on the ribs, then tossed him a blackberry. "I will act so proper, your people will be thinking me a bob-eared Elf with an odd accent."
The final leg to Cygestolia proved as exhausting as all before it, yet our company arrived giddy and exalted to be at journey's end. Excitement coursed through us, and a couple of the Elves slapped me on the back in congratulations even after they realized who I was. Aarundel almost immediately sank into one of his contemplative fugues, so I dragged him from his saddle and put both of our horses up before lying down to sleep myself.
Being as close as we were to Cygestolia, it might have seemed a good idea just to ride out to the city immediately, but we did not for the same reason that using the circii translatio to mount an invasion was ineffective. The circles and the magical energy inherent in them allowed us to recover from the exertions of the journey much more swiftly than we could outside their precincts. An army moved in this manner would be unable to function in a battle shortly after their arrival, and any of us who had ridden out to the city would have fallen from the saddle asleep before we ever got there.
I awoke from my rest in midafternoon, which was a bit sooner than I had intended and a lot sooner than my body desired. Still, Aarundel's insistent demands that I wake up cut through the sleep cocoon in which my consciousness rested, so I sat up and rubbed sleepsand from my eyes. I had planned to ask him what could possibly be more important than sleep, but the raptured expression on his face answered me immediately.
"Come with me, Neal. Come, come." He pulled me to my feet, then waited impatiently as I stretched. "Neal!" he whispered emphatically and jerked his head toward the north.
I followed him as quickly as I could, and my eyes slowly focused on a form standing at the edge of the circle. Even my sluggish brain could determine that the dark-haired, gown-clad person had to be Marta. I smiled at that realization and picked up my pace, then raked fingers back through my hair to clear it away from my face.
At that point I knew Aarundel saw in me more of a friend than even he would have imagined. I had been riding for two days and a fortnight and looked it. Worse yet, I smelled like it. My beard had not been razor-slain since leaving Aurium, and while my tunic had been washed and wrung out twice since then, it looked more ready for burning than wearing. I had imagined washing up and preparing a proper image for when I met his Marta, but that chance had gone the way of the sheep Shijef had stolen.
None of my concerns would have mattered at all to Aarundel. His Marta had come out to see him, to welcome him, and he wanted her to meet me. I hoped, as I hurried along, that she loved him deeper than the hole I wished would swallow me up, because it would take a lot of love to excuse my pitiful appearance. Then again, if she didn't love him that much, scaring her off at this point would be the best thing I could do for him.
Slowing just a hair so I could pare the grime from beneath my fingernails, I approached the couple. I stopped short a good Man-length from them and shifted so I'd be more downwind than up. Holding hands together, they were lost in each other's eyes and didn't notice me until I cleared my throat.
Aarundel blinked, then blushed a bit and extended his left hand in my direction. "Doma Marta, this is Neal Roclawzi, the one I have named Custos Sylvanii. Neal, this is my heart-twin, my vitamoresti. Lady Marta."
I bowed deeply to her. "This is an honor I have long awaited."
"The honor is mine, Custos Sylvanii."
For the next two seconds we said nothing and appraised each other. I know I got the better of the exchange, for her exquisite beauty meant I could have watched her for a good long time without complaint. Tall enough to look me even in the eyes, she had a slender grace and noble bearing the equal of which I had never seen before. She wore her dark hair shorter even than Aarundel or me, and it molded itself to her head and the back of her neck with tight curls. Her blue eyes and bright smile made me feel welcome and told me she well understood how the hardships of the journey had left their mark on me.
I looked over at Aarundel. "My friend, until this day I have envied you nothing. Now I envy your tremendous fortune in sharing love with this sylvanesti."
Aarundel laughed aloud and kissed Marta on the forehead. "I shall do all I am able to be worthy of your envy, my friend." He smiled at Marta, then looked beyond me toward the glade surrounding the circle. "You did not tell me she rode out with you."