Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

She was so nervous that she nearly tripped on a squash. They continued on at a measured pace, and before long they had reached the copse in which her father's cottage nestled, tucked in a private spot not far from the central courtyard. She lifted the latch and pushed. The door creaked, as it always did, but an instant later they were both inside.

She felt little prickles of perspiration over her neck and throat. Making sure all the curtains were drawn, she lit a candle. The room opened out. The chamber they had entered was the only large room. It contained a cooking hearth, a dining table, stools, an armchair, and some crates and chests. To one side was a small bedroom, to the rear the door to the outhouse. A loft was above, the only access to it a steep ladder in a corner.

Home. Safe. Many times she had told herself otherwise, but now it was a palace – at least until the end of the month, when her father would return. She savored the sight of it, then, for one of the few times in her life, barred the doors.

"You did it!" she told Ethmurl.

He swayed, set his belt down on the table, and sagged onto one of the stools. "I wasn't sure I'd make it."

She giggled. "Now we won't have to worry about food or water or being discovered. They'll never look under their own noses."

"If it's all right, could I not worry about it tomorrow?" he asked wearily.

It was hard to suppress her enthusiasm, but she knew Ethmurl well enough by now to know that he wouldn't complain unless his need was genuine. "Here," she said, pushing the door of the ground-floor bedroom wider. "This is my father's room. The loft's mine."

He stood once more, with effort, and headed toward the door. Lerina helped him onto the tick and removed his boots for him. He didn't bother to undress or get under the blankets. Seeing his exhaustion, she left as soon as he was settled, bidding him a good night.

She practically shook with adrenaline, and used some of it checking the cottage. Nothing seemed disturbed, though it smelled of being closed up for a length of time. She hid Ethmurl's belt in a chest and paced. But there really was nothing to do, and she knew that the morning would bring an early confrontation with a disapproving great-uncle. She automatically started up the ladder to the loft.

And paused.

"No." She smiled, turned around, and headed back to the bedroom.

As they approached, parrots glided from tree to tree, their bright colors almost shocking to behold after the drab country the tribe had just covered. Jungle was more accurate a description than forest. Life abounded. The trees were high, broad hardwoods, their shade the parent of climbing vines, elephant grass, shrubs, giant ferns – all without exception vibrant with the green born of plentiful water. The racket of birds, insects, and small animals never ceased.

Most of all, it smelled like life, Alemar decided. Strange that his senses were so attuned to the scent after only a month in the desert.

The caravan did not enter the jungle. The road from the Pass of Hattyre to the Ahloorm had run almost due east across the valley, but now that the river had been reached, the long line of men and livestock turned north, travelling parallel to the heavy growth, along a deeply cut track that ran to either horizon. Occasional stone markers demarcated the road boundaries and measured the distance. Periodically trails merged with the main highway, but always from the west. The only ways heading into the jungle were no more than footpaths.

The shepherds let their flocks range freely in the wide grasslands extending toward the left, which they had first reached the previous day. However, the animals were prevented from feeding on the eastern side, beyond what they could nibble from the fringe of the road as they passed.

"The forest of Ahloorm is sacred," Fumlok explained. "Do not let sheep and goats inside. Do not cut living wood."

Po-no-pha of the three clans disappeared periodically into the foliage to hunt, observed with envy by the twins. The hunters brought back all manner of game, particularly birds, though the most heralded prize was wild boar. Women, including Peyri and Omi, were allowed to enter and pick berries and melons. The first evening, Shigmur invited the twins and their family to share the pork his women had roasted.

On the second day, the T'lan split from the group, heading back toward the west. The twins could see an oasis on the horizon, one of many fed by the Ahloorm's subterranean branches. The parting provided an excuse for celebration – the dangers of the migration were behind them, and now they had reached the richest of their many pasturage regions, in a year of good rains. The festivities lasted an entire night and day, the T'lan families leaving one by one for different sections of the range, with a large assembly accompanying the ken directly to the oasis.

Two days later, the Ena copied the pattern, leaving the T'krt to continue north.

Elenya sat on the ground with her back to one of the magnificenthoeanaou trees around which the clan had camped. She stared at the forest. The sun filtered through small open patches in the canopy but had yet to climb above the tops of the trees and shine directly on the tents. Alemar still slept, and the women were ignoring their odd husband.

"Good morning."

She recognized his boots out of the corner of her eye but continued to meditate on the distant leaves. "So – the war-leader deigns to converse with someone who doesn't know the laws of battle."

"I even converse with children and infidels," he said. "How is your wound?"

She smiled impishly. "What wound?"

"In your shoulder," he said. She enjoyed his puzzled expression. "You were hurt in the Buyul raid."

"Was I?"

"Yes. I saw the cut myself. Your robe is still stained." He pointed to the brown section of cloth. But in silent dispute, Elenya pulled open the top of her garment. Where the cut should have been, Lonal could see only a scar, already healed.

Lonal's face clouded. "Have there been Hab-no-ken in the camp without my knowledge?"

"No. As a matter of fact, my brother and I have never seen one since coming to this country."

"Then how did you heal so quickly?"

Again the smile. "It pleases me not to tell you," she said. "Now, do you have business here? I was enjoying the view alone."

"Do you want to see the forest?" he asked.

She looked at him. He carried a quiver and bow, toward which he gestured. "Bring your own and follow me." He turned and headed straight for the river.

His abruptness caught her off guard, but by the time he vanished from view of the tribe, she was one step behind him.

Almost from the first, the soil was spongy. As it became even less firm, Elenya realized they were not walking on ground at all, but on a network of plant growth. She had wondered where the river was. At no point in their journey had they seen an open flow. Now she knew that the forestwas the river. The plants were the banks; if not for their roots, the water would spread over the plain and evaporate, never even coming close to the sea. They had to travel single file most of the time, sometimes cutting their way through vines and brambles. Lonal didn't speak, and Elenya was far too distracted by the scenery to initiate conversation herself.

They penetrated deep into the area, until the land grew so swamplike it threatened to swallow them unless they placed every foot with extreme care. The surroundings opened up, the ubiquitous shrubs unable to find permanent foundations from which to grow, leaving a swath of territory to the water grasses and trees. The whole place hummed with insect life.

"I propose a contest," Lonal said. He strung his bow, indicating that Elenya should do the same. They had found a comfortable spot to rest on a small island of solid ground.