The Five Elements (16 page)

He paused, leaving Aaron to think he meant to say nothing more. This was, after all, the longest conversation they'd had to date. But then Ensel Rhe continued.

"Some of it you may already know. I will do my best to answer what questions you have, but only once we are underway." He looked at Aaron then, waiting for his acceptance. Aaron nodded. What else could he do?

Master Rhe took the oil lantern from Ursool as she approached. Together, they went inside. Aaron followed. He managed to thank her for applying the unguent to his feet before Ensel Rhe took charge, busying them with preparations for his and Aaron's journey. Aaron was gifted with his own pack this time. Into it Ensel Rhe stuffed Ursool's promised provisions along with extra blankets, a few small pots for cooking, wooden cutlery, and a pouch of flint and tinder. Aaron was also given his own waterskin which he kept slung over one shoulder. It took them no time to prepare everything and soon all three were outside again.

"Thank you, Ursool," Aaron said. "I hope we meet again someday."

The corners of the woman's mouth turned up at his words. Then, with seriousness, she said, "You have a long, dangerous journey ahead of you, Aaron. Does thought of it frighten you?"

Aaron narrowed his brow at the question, but when he spoke, he did so truthfully. "Yes."

Ursool nodded. "We all know fear, Aaron. Even Ensel Rhe, though he'll never admit to it. Always remember that it is how we respond to that fear that is most important of all. Some drown in it. Others draw courage from it. Which will you do, I wonder?" She did not wait for an answer. "Take this." She moved closer. Held in her fingers was a leather string. At the end of the string was a canine tooth larger than Aaron's index finger. Aaron instinctively lowered his head as she placed the string about his neck. "Guard well this middling charm, Aaron. Never let it leave your person, for it may very well be the difference between life and death."

Aaron lifted the tooth from his chest. It was bigger than any tooth he'd ever seen and stained red. Not all of it, but there was a distinctive streak across its length. The color was dark, like blood. Briefly, Aaron ran a thumb across it. The color did not wipe away. He let it fall to his chest, remembering the other charm he once had. He told Ursool about it.

"This carving," she said, "what was its shape?"

"A soldier. The man I bought it from told me it would protect me. It did. I mean, if it had any powers at all. I know the woodcarver was just telling me that so I would buy the carving, but I wanted to believe him." Aaron fixed Ursool with a stare. "I want to believe you."

The witch smiled. "Perhaps this woodcarver knew something that you did not. Tell me, what did you do with his charm?"

"I threw it away."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I think perhaps it is still with you."

"No, it's not. I mean, I know I threw it—" Aaron followed the line of her gaze to Ensel Rhe.

She smiled one last time, then she turned and was gone, disappeared inside her house, all before Aaron could utter another word.

Ensel Rhe was already walking away, forcing Aaron to run to catch up. As the trees thickened around them, Aaron glanced over his shoulder to take in Ursool's home one last time. He saw only a faint light shining from a window. Then, as they moved further from the house, the light faded and, finally, was swallowed by the night's darkness.

O
NE OF THE SITHERI CAME for Shanna an hour after sunset. There were protests, from the sergeant and some others, but once Shanna saw the lone snakeman framed in the open cage doorway, one scaly, claw-tipped finger pointing at her, she pushed past those trying to protect her and went quietly. She was led to the lonely tent where the other sitheri guard stood watch outside. At Shanna's approach, the tent's flap was lifted. She hesitated a moment, then entered. Neither of the guards followed her in as the flap was sealed behind her. Golden glow-globes greeted her, the fiery spheres, one at each corner of the room, providing light but no heat. Even still, it was warmer than outside just for the presence of the walls that kept the biting chill of the wind at bay. Shanna would have liked to have taken a moment to soak in the warmth if not for the boy staring at her with hunger in his eyes.

He was dressed as before, in red tunic and pantaloons, except that now he also wore a king's robe, long and plush and trimmed in white fur that cascaded from his shoulders to pile at his feet. At his belt was a jeweled knife. He stood next to a gilded, darkwood chair that was occupied by the boney-handed man with the cane. The man was covered in the same simple gray robes, though this time Shanna spied the tip of a pointed nose and cheeks the color of milky paste within the cowl.

The boy came forward. He didn't say a word. The same smirk he'd worn earlier and the lust in his eyes said enough. Shanna backed up against the tent's flap, finding it as unyielding as a solid door. Then the boy took a quick step and grabbed hold of her arm. There were two interior, curtained doorways. Despite Shanna's best efforts to stop him, he dragged her toward the leftmost one. Desperate, Shanna looked at the man, slouched in his chair, but he showed no interest at all in the happenings before him. There was no one here to help her, no one except…

"W-Where's Corrin?"

The boy stopped. His gaze turned to the robed man. Nothing at first, but then one arm lifted and a boney finger pointed at the opposite entry. The boy released her and folded his arms across his chest. He gestured with his chin, prompting her with the glint in his eye, almost daring her to investigate.

She did, casting more than one glance at her captors before she drew aside the velvety curtain and slipped inside. The room within was only partially lit by a single glow-globe. Its contents unfolded as she followed a narrow lane created by two long tables stacked high with an odd assortment of glass vials, stoppered beakers, flasks, metal crucibles, bone cupels, and a set of scales, one larger than the other. Tubules straight and spiraled formed a network amongst the containment vessels. Some hung suspended over oil-fueled burners that, right now, were unlit. Shanna eyed the paraphernalia with suspicion and wonder, then she lost interest, for just beyond the pair of tables was Corrin.

She drew closer, gasping. Strapped to an operating table set near vertical, he was stripped to the waist with arms tied above his head and his legs spread apart. A single broad strap lay across his chest. Even at a distance, in the half-light created by the single glow-globe, Corrin looked… diminished. Drained was more like it, Shanna thought, as she eyed the tubules running from various parts of his body to just below his feet where they connected to some sort of manifold. There was a single outlet tube coming out of the device. Whatever vessel had been there was gone now. Trembling, Shanna saw that though Corrin's eyes were closed, he still drew shallow, barely perceivable breaths. She traced the path of the tubules from the device at Corrin's feet on up. There were so many, all inserted directly into him at his wrists, neck, between his ribs, and just below his ankles. They'd had no consideration for his clubfoot, the misshapen appendage having been stuck as neatly as the good one. Shanna took hold of one of the tubules between a thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle tug. Fluids that had dried formed a sort of seal, but, once that seal was broken, it slid out easily enough. She removed them all, one after the other, pausing only once to wipe tears from her eyes. Corrin's only response was to moan as each tube left his body. Then she undid the straps. She undid his wrists and ankles first, then fumbled at the single strap across his chest. Once unclasped, Corrin's body slumped forward. She caught him as best she could. His diminished weight was still too much for her as they tumbled to the ground together. Corrin stirred at the rough treatment. His eyelids fluttered and a moan escaped his lips as Shanna untangled herself enough to lay him flat. She kept his head resting in her lap as she ran a hand across his ashen cheek. They'd done more than just drain him. They'd killed him.

Corrin's eyelids fluttered open. There was a moment of uncertainty, a moment in which Shanna must have looked unfamiliar to him, but then he smiled and half-croaked, half-whispered her name. Shanna scanned the room for some water. When she looked back at him, he was gone.

Shanna stared into his vacant eyes for a moment, then she lifted his head from her lap and lay it gently on the ground. She tried to reach out and close his eyes, but her trembling hand went to her mouth instead to muffle any noise she might make. The shaking threatened to seize her entire body, but she pushed it away and somehow managed to stand. She exited the room without thinking.

The robed man and his boy were waiting to greet her. The former remained slumped in his chair. The boy, his grin grown wider, stood at his master's side. Shanna made straight for him, stopping only when they stood face-to-face. The boy looked at her appraisingly for one second. It was all the time Shanna allowed him as she took hold of the hilt of the boy’s knife, drew it, and plunged it into his chest. The boy's look of amusement and delight became one of surprise and horror. Shanna withdrew the bloodied blade and, as the boy clutched at his chest and slipped to the ground, she sprang on his robed master with a snarl.

The man reacted with such quickness Shanna barely had cocked her arm to strike when he sprang from his chair, took hold of her, and bodily flung her away. She hit the ground with enough force that the knife was knocked from her grasp and sent skittering across the canvas floor. Expecting the man to be on her any moment, Shanna raised her arms in desperation. But there was no further assault. The man's attention was fixed solely on his boy. He just stood there, looking down upon his—student? apprentice? son? Surely not the last, Shanna thought—even as a growing patch of red, darker than the boy's tunic, spread further and further out from his body. The man did not kneel to cradle the boy in his arms, nor did he crouch and attempt to offer solace, for the boy was most obviously about to die. Still, Shanna suspected agitation in the hurried rise and fall of the man's chest. She knew it for certain when he emitted the most unholy howl of rage she'd ever heard. Thinking it best she flee, Shanna tried to get up. She made it halfway to her knees when she was hit from behind and knocked down. Then she felt the point-end of a spear pressed against her. She did not move an inch further.

"What have you done?" The savant screamed.

Shanna heard heavy footfalls approach. Then the spear tip released her and she was lifted from the floor. Not by the sitheri, though. By the savant. Maniacal eyes bulging with fury and a mouth twisted into a vicious snarl were the only features she saw as the savant squeezed her shoulders and shook her so hard she cried out. He put his face right up to hers, screaming at her with a full intake of breath. "What—have—you—done?" He threw her to the ground. Shanna had only a moment to see him grab the spear from his sitheri, then its tip was full in her face. But it did not pierce her. The savant's chest heaved in air. One breath, then two. Still, the spear remained steady. A third. After a fourth and a fifth, the man's face settled until only his labored breathing revealed his ire. His stare—his focus—was no longer on her. It was on something behind her. Not wishing to draw attention to herself, Shanna remained still, though she started when she heard a soft hum emanating behind her. More than that, now that the chaos had diminished, she felt something tugging at her senses.

The robed man removed the point of the spear from her and handed the weapon to his guard.

"Return her to her cage."

The sitheri responded instantly, lifting and dragging her from the tent. Before she'd exited she stole a single glance at the thing which had distracted the savant's attention: a pedestal or table, with a spherical bulge at its top, the whole of the thing covered in black velvet. Then she was forced outside.

Locked up once more, she settled into a corner and said nothing to the others about what had happened or what she'd seen. Corrin, the boy she'd slain, and even the fact that she'd barely, and inexplicably, escaped death at the hands of the savant was forgotten. Neither the cold nor the wind bothered her now. Her mind focused only on the hum of the thing concealed, the way it had somehow, in some way, reached out to her and, at the very end, just before the snakeman had dragged her away, the feeling—the rush—that had threatened to overwhelm her. She'd no idea what lie beneath that covering, but she swore she was going to find out.

* * *

More than half the prisoners disappeared before the next day's dawning. Taken one-by-one by the sitheri guards, they were dragged into the savant's tent where evidence of their treatment was demonstrated only by the corpses carried out. Some fought back when they were taken, but weaponless and weary, none were a match for the snakemen. By mid-morning, when the sitheri finally came no more, only six prisoners remained: Shanna, who remained huddled in one corner of the cage the entirety of the time; Sergeant Roe Tippin, mostly recovered from his abuse at the hands of the dwarves; a man who kept a protective arm around a woman named Nala, whose name Shanna knew only because her companion kept whispering it over and over; a boy Shanna's age which she at some point finally recognized as Rail, a sometime friend; and dark-skinned Jadjin the healer. As bone-weary as the rest of them, Jadjin still found the strength to visit with each of them, encouraging spirits with soothing whispers or bolstering courage with a reassuring smile. She was just smoothing Shanna's hair, who reacted not at all to the woman's ministrations, when the sitheri reappeared, ready to claim another victim. This time, they'd come for Shanna.

Immediately, Jadjin circled an arm around her. "No! She's just a child!"

The sitheri did not care.

Not wanting anyone else to get hurt, Shanna unwrapped herself from the woman's grasp and exited the cage. Though the sitheri took up positions to either side of her, this time neither of them touched her. Stranger still, as they led her through the mid-morning fog, they steered her away from their master's tent, through the main encampment where the smell of food cooking set Shanna's mouth-watering and to a scene where dwarven teamsters busied themselves harnessing teams of oxen to a varied ensemble of wagons and carts. The sitheri gave Shanna no time to perform more than a cursory examination as they led her past those first few vehicles to the rear of a wagon covered by a garish patchwork of blue, red, and green. The wagon looked like it belonged in a circus. One of the guards motioned Shanna up the short ladder lending entry to the wagon. Whatever was inside was blocked by a wall of drapery. Shanna hesitated. When the sitheri offered nothing but another gesture for her to enter the wagon, she mounted the ladder, pushed the drapery aside, and stepped inside.