The Immortal Renshai, page 21
Captain sent a general khohlar that touched every mind in the room, though he targeted the elves, mages, and Kentt. Tae got the gist, though certain magical terms defied his understanding. The elf told them all to prepare for the imminent next round and asked anyone unable to assist or in need of more recovery time to contact him.
The page shifted nervously from foot to foot while Captain tipped his head to receive replies. If he got any, he gave no sign, merely looked at the mages, all huddled in a group. They could not use khohlar, so he needed a verbal or nonverbal confirmation from them. Chymmerlee caught his eye and waved assent. Captain next turned toward Kentt and Mistri. Receiving brisk nods, he finally responded to the page. “Please tell His Majesty we’re ready as soon as he gives the signal.”
The page scampered off to relay the message halfway across the room, which Tae found amusing. Captain could have sent khohlar to the high king much more swiftly, but he followed the human custom instead.
Captain rose and wound briefly through his contingent, sometimes relaying mental messages that made little sense to Tae, other times speaking directly to individuals or small groups. At length, he returned to his place beside Tae and put a hand on either side of the Pica Stone. Only the foggy prints his palms left on the sapphire revealed his anxiety. He looked toward the central table, waiting.
King Griff raised an arm, flexing his fingers to indicate Captain should begin the process.
Hunched over the Pica Stone, the oldest of the elves spoke harsh, sibilant syllables that little resembled the musical elfin tongue or his usual melodic tenor. All around him, magical voices rose and fell in a chant, filling the entire space with a wordless sound that seemed to vibrate through the walls, floor, furniture, and every being in the room. Though accustomed to the process from the previous trial, the humans still went fully silent, as if worried a single misplaced noise might interfere with the pooled magic.
As before, an image glimmered to life in the Pica Stone. Peering around Captain, Tae believed he saw the profile of an elfin face, including one delicately-pointed ear, an impossibly green eye, a high cheekbone, a pinched nose, and flame-red hair. A small, blonde elf gazed at the image from the opposite side of the table. If she and Captain communicated, they did so silently; and Tae had no idea what they might be saying. Imorelda took a position on one side of the gemstone, staring into it as well, her whiskers nearly touching it.
Captain leaned over. “Can you hear me, Tellurial Auzama Ka-hanath Shumaren Whir?” he asked beneath the chanting.
The elf in the image stiffened, head swiveling.
“It’s Arak’bar Tulamii Dhor speaking to you through the Pica Stone.”
Tellurial froze in position, mouth moving in silent speech.
“I can see you, Tellurial Auzama Ka-hanath Shumaren Whir, but you can’t see me. I can project sound to you, but I can’t hear you. Khohlar will not work. Nod once if you understand.”
The elf raised and lowered his head in an exaggerated nod. His mouth did not move this time, but bits and pieces of more elves moved in and out of the picture. It was difficult to weed out what he saw, but Tae believed he could discern at least two others. Oddly, he found himself more focused on Captain’s speaking than the picture in the Pica. Though Tae had picked up a few words of elvish—his facility with languages made that inevitable—hearing and understanding every syllable should have made him joyous the way mastering a new language always did. Instead, it felt terribly wrong, rousing the wariness that usually only accompanied danger.
Captain explained it as “new” magic, the same that had allowed Kentt and the elves to communicate. He had extended this temporary ability to Tae, obviously believing it a courtesy. Though Tae would have had difficulty assisting without it, he still could not shake the discomfort. He had spent most of his life unpuzzling foreign tongues, and the ease of his understanding felt unnatural and burdensome.
Captain continued addressing the image in the Pica, “You’ll need to assist us with a gate.”
The elf in the Pica started moving, apparently rushing to obey.
Captain stopped him. “But not quite yet. First, we need to exchange some information.”
Tellurial went still again, waiting. He made a nonhuman gesture.
Captain frowned. “I’m going to ask some questions. To respond yes, bob your head up and down. To respond no, shake it side to side.” He would not have had to explain those gestures to humans. They came naturally to most cultures, which was why Tae had chosen them. “Are you in imminent danger?”
Tellurial opened his mouth to answer, then apparently remembered Captain could not hear him, and closed it. He moved his head right once, then left. It was a “no,” but not a firm one.
Captain moved away from the Pica to look at Tae. “I don’t think they’re entirely safe, either.” He switched tactics. “Tellurial Auzama Ka-hanath Shumaren Whir, we are going to create that gate and bring all of you home. However, it’s equally important we bring any and all humans sent to that Outworld home as well. When the last elf steps through the gate, it will close permanently. Any humans left behind would be trapped. Do you understand?”
Tellurial bobbed his head exactly one time, then made another uninterpretable gesture, at least to Tae. He looked askance at Captain, but the oldest of the elves kept his gaze on Tellurial, still frowning.
Captain muttered, “Something’s wrong.” Apparently, he could not read a whole lot more from the movement.
“Find out how many elves and how many humans are with him.”
Captain gazed into the Pica. “Hold up a finger for each elf who arrived on that Outworld, including yourself.”
Tellurial raised his hands, but they could not be seen around his shoulder.
Captain sighed. “Turn to your left.”
Tellurial moved a bit.
“A little more.”
Tellurial complied, finishing up so he appeared to face them directly. He had nine fingers raised.
“How many are alive and together at this moment?”
Tellurial continued to hold up nine fingers.
Captain breathed a relieved sigh, then caught himself, looking guiltily at Tae. Clearly, he had not meant to reveal emotions until after he knew the current state of any humans as well. “Now, how many humans arrived on the Outworld?”
Tellurial hesitated. He spoke silently for a moment, then pursed his lips. Finally, he flashed both hands, waited a moment, curled his fingers closed, then opened both hands and displayed all the fingers again two times. He fisted both hands, then held up only one. He ended with another nonhuman gesture.
Still hovered over the Pica, Captain interpreted, “Thirty-five, give or take?”
Tellurial nodded.
“And how many of the humans are with you now?”
Tellurial shook his head, not raising either hand.
“None?” Captain said, a touch of question and alarm in his voice. He looked at Tae for guidance.
“Ask him if the humans are not with him because they’re all dead.”
Captain repeated the question to Tellurial.
The elf shook his head, then shrugged.
Tae did not know how to interpret that. “What’s he trying to say?”
“I’m not sure,” Captain admitted. He addressed Tellurial again. “Are some of the humans dead?”
Tellurial’s chest swelled as he sucked in a deep lungful of air. He held it several moments, then slowly deflated. Again, he shrugged.
“I don’t think he knows.” Tae leaned forward. “Ask him if he would need help to gather all the living humans.”
Captain did so, receiving a brisk and definitive nod this time.
Tae hopped to his feet. “You prepare them for our arrival. I’ll gather the troops.”
Imorelda launched herself at Tae, landing heavily on his left shoulder and spreading herself around his neck. *Grab the kittens,* she commanded.
The time for argument had passed. With a grim sigh of resignation, Tae did as Imorelda bade, tucking the tiny mewling creatures into his pockets, and headed toward the prearranged staging area near the gate.
CHAPTER 13
Most humans wouldn’t know quality if it scratched their eyes out and batted them around on the floor.
—Imorelda
SAVIAR AND RA-KHIR insisted on being first through the gate, followed swiftly by Chan’rék’ril and El-brinith, the same two elves who had accompanied a somewhat different party nearly two decades earlier when they sought out the shards of the Pica Stone. Tae knew Chan’rék’ril had lost his soul to spirit spiders, so it made sense for him to volunteer and for the elves to send him. He could easily have died then and there, proof a backup elf was needed to assure the gate remained open and the rescue party did not become trapped on the Outworld along with those they had come to save.
Marisole and Nomalan went next. The party had received no explanation for the substitution of those two for Darris. Ra-khir was too polite and loyal to ask, and Saviar did not appear to notice or wonder, probably believing it had something to do with competence or age. Imorelda had informed Tae of the entire discussion, so he also remained silent and accepting, especially after Matrinka gave him a worried and significant look that suggested she did not want to talk about it. He wondered if she had allowed herself and others to speak freely in front of the cat because she trusted Imorelda, because concern had made her careless or because she wanted Tae to know, certain he would keep their secret.
Last to go through, Tae hesitated long enough to assure multiple warriors, most Renshai, guarded the gate to protect those gathered from anything dangerous that might slip through from the other side, then plunged through the nearly invisible opening. Tingling assailed Tae’s head and body, then subsided almost as quickly. He had closed his eyes, prepared for the blinding flash and disorienting magic that had overtaken him the last several times the elves had sent him to the Outworlds, but it never came. Apparently, having elves on the opposite side changed the type of magic they used for the transport.
The rescue party stepped into a forest of bulbous, twisted trees that resembled hadongos except these had darker trunks, nearly black, and were speckled with off-white markings Tae would have taken for scars had they not been so extensive and regular. They sported leaves as big as human feet, serrated and broad, nearly blocking the sunlight. Nine elves stared at the newcomers, their gemlike eyes registering no surprise or fear. Tae had no difficulty finding Tellurial among the others.
El-brinith spoke to them in elvish, and Tae realized his ability to comprehend it had returned to normal. He spoke the Northern tongue, which had significant overlap with elvish, and he knew Saviar did as well. Otherwise, he doubted any of his human companions could follow the discussion at all. It seemed to include a greeting, a request for information, and a promise.
Apparently, the Pica Stone had focused on Tellurial randomly because another elf stepped forward to do the talking for them. “My name is An’séarie.” To Tae’s relief, she stopped at four syllables. “I speak your human trading language, so I will explain what we know.”
Tae saw tension leave several of his companions.
An’séarie continued, “We are very eager to return to our family, but we will remain until you have had time to ask your questions. It is the request of Arak’bar Tulamii Dhor.”
“All of them are worthy of trust,” Chan’rék’ril said. Apparently, An’séarie had addressed something to him with direct khohlar. Otherwise, his words had come out of nowhere. “The humans worry about their kin, just as we do. They have a right to get them safely home.”
A hint of defensiveness entered An’séarie’s tone. “Of course. But I’m not sure they can be saved.”
Saviar’s hand fell to his hilt so instinctively, Tae doubted he even realized it. “Are they in trouble?”
“We don’t know,” An’séarie replied, “but we believe so.” She added quickly, “We tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen.”
*Just tell us what happened,* Imorelda sent.
Tae agreed. “Explain,” he said simply, hoping his own pointed statement would encourage the others to avoid chatter and unnecessary verbiage. If the humans needed help, they should not delay unnecessarily, but it was crazy to charge in without knowledge, either.
An’séarie obliged. “There’s something singing, more than one something, in fact, clearly magical. It’s beautiful music, but also fae and dangerous. The humans made a camp near the shore, refusing to leave it. They say they’re needed, but we have noticed fewer men every time one of us has dared to check on them. They won’t come away with us. The last time we suggested it, they threatened violence. Since then, we’ve left them to their own devices.”
“How many?” Tae asked. “Humans, I mean.”
An’séarie hesitated, perhaps in silent consultation with the other elves. “We believe they started with thirty-five or forty. From what we can tell, fewer than two dozen remain.”
Chan’rék’ril asked, “How often do you hear the singing?”
“Twice now.” An’séarie considered. “Once within days of our arrival, and one time since. If the interval is regular, another singing time should come at any moment.”
Marisole ran a finger along the side of her gittern. “How does the singing affect the humans?”
“It appears to entice them. The first time, we tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t listen. The second time, we tried to stop them, but they attacked. Between times, they are less excitable but still insistent they must await the next calling.”
“And the elves?” Marisole again.
“We hear it, but we feel no need to rush headlong into danger. Some of us think it’s only because we know better and aren’t risk-takers by nature, but others believe the song has magic that affects some and not others.” She stiffened suddenly. “There it is!”
Tae looked around, seeing nothing new. “There what is?”
“The singing!” An’séarie took several steps in a direction Tae labeled east based on the position of the sun and assuming a similar time of day to Midgard. “Don’t you hear it?”
“I do,” El-brinith said. She started walking, peering through the trees, Chan’rék’ril beside her. The rest of the elves remained in place or moved closer to the gate, clearly demonstrating An’séarie’s point.
Another elf sent khohlar, *If you wish to save the humans, you should go now before more are lost.*
*Be careful,* another sent. *Or you’ll be lost, too.*
*Go,* El-brinith said, waving toward the gate. *Chan’rék’ril and I will keep the way open for the humans.*
Most of the elves did not need a second suggestion. They rushed through the gate as quickly as they could in single file. Only An’séarie did not join the line. *I’m staying,* she announced. *A jovinay arythanik requires three.*
If this bothered any of the vacating elves, they gave no sign, focused on squeezing through the gate as quickly as possible.
El-brinith took An’séarie’s hand and said something in elvish that resembled the Northern word takk, which meant “thank you.”
As the group headed “eastward,” Tae gradually began to discern the faint sounds of distant, rhythmical noise. At first, he followed the elves at their sedate pace. As they moved, the sounds grew louder and more discernible as singing. The words made no sense to him, nor did he care or bother to try to find meaning in their existence. There were several voices intertwined, definitely female; and, if they held only half the beauty of their voices, he would surely find them breathtaking. His pace quickened, beyond his control; and, within moments, he was running.
*Stop!* Imorelda shouted in his head.
The singing muffled the cat’s urgent call. Tae ran faster.
*Stop right now!* Imorelda’s voice echoed through his mind, an urgent command.
Still, Tae found himself charging, Ra-khir and Nomalan at either side and Saviar ahead of them all. Seized by the sudden fear the Renshai might hurt the singers, Tae accelerated to a breakneck speed.
Imorelda’s claws sank into Tae’s neck. The pain staggered him, tangling his feet, and he sprawled to the ground. He started to roll from habit, but Imorelda was all over him, slashing, spitting, hissing like an animated briar patch. *Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you! Stay where you are.*
Tae curled into a ball, arms protecting his face and throat. *I won’t move. I promise I won’t move. Please stop tearing me to pieces.*
Imorelda’s attack ceased, but she remained perched on the back of his head. He could feel every paw pinning him to the ground, and the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end, drawn by the electricity of Imorelda’s personal fluffing. At the moment, she was a massive ball of fur, teeth, and claws. *Listen to me, you moron. Let nothing into your head but me.*
Cautiously, Tae twitched the index finger of each hand, worried it betrayed his promise. Imorelda allowed him to use the tips to press the half circular bit of each ear flap over his canals, blocking all sound. The desire to rush toward the singing did not wholly disappear, but it diminished enough for him to think.
Leaving him on the ground, the elves and Marisole rushed past him. *Imorelda, we have to stop them! We’re trapped without those elves!*
*No, you fool. They’re fine. They’re trying to catch the other men.*
Tae cringed. *They’re not going to outrun Saviar.* Like all Béarnides, particularly those of royal lineage, Nomalan was a large man and Ra-khir was in his mid thirties; but the young Renshai was in peak physical condition. Tae had no idea of the relative speeds of elves and humans, but Marisole had little chance to catch warriors with a head start and an obsession.
