Tanis the shadow years

41

Zarjephwu, the leader of the sliqs, bathed nis burned body in the pond that they'd found in the glade. They had followed the tracks of the bullboggs in the moonlight, but, fearing the night, decided to go no farther. They had not, however, given up the chase. As far as Zarjephwu was concerned, the woman who had escaped certainly knew where the enchanted quill was; otherwise why would those two have risked their lives to save her7 When dawn broke, Zarjephwu roused himself from the same water that had so recently soothed Kishpa's burned flesh. The slig summoned his warriors.

"We have come a long way in search of the enchanted quill," said the slig. "We will not stop now."

"But the others have bullboggs to ride. How could you let this happen7" complained Ghuchaz, a young, ambitious warrior who chafed under Zarjephwu's leadership.

The entire band seemed to hold its breath. To question Zarjephwu was tantamount to a death sentence. Silently, they backed away from young Ghuchaz, who quickly sensed that he had gone too far. Meanwhile, Zarjephwu licked the top of his snout while he considered the upstart's challenge. His tiny eyes flickered.

Sligs don't apologize, nor do they make excuses. Ghuchaz, however, was smarter than the others. Before Zarjephwu made his move, the young warrior hurriedly made his own, piping up to say, "I think I know how we can overtake the bullboggs and catch our prey."

Startled, the leader of the sligs held back from his intended attack, asking, "How?"

Ghuchaz smiled knowingly. Zarjephwu was bigger and stronger, but the younger slig was far more cunning. In a short while, he would be the head of the band… and he would soon possess the enchanted quill.

In order to lull Zarjephwu into thinking he was cowed, Ghuchaz put on a meek face and eased up next to his leader to whisper the plan in his ear. 'The bullboggs' tracks lead due west, and they're easy to follow," he said softly, tiny eyes flickering at his mates, who avoided the gaze of the young upstart. "We should head northwest; there's a settlement of humans there. We can raid them and get horses and bullboggs of our own. If the weather holds and there are no rain or dust storms, we can easily pick up the tracks of our prey again. We'll catch them in a matter of days."

Zarjephwu listened impassively. He knew the young one was right. It would be good to have someone this clever at his right hand. Or it might be dangerous. The latter thought was on Zarjephwu's mind when Ghuchaz suddenly lowered his head and bit deep with his long, sharp teeth into his leader's unprotected throat. But he did not rip. Zarjephwu had been caught off- guard, yet was able to strike back with such speed and force that Ghuchaz's head was crushed before he even knew he'd been hit with two rocklike fists. The young slig's body slid to the ground.

Blood ran down Zarjephwu's neck, covering his hard, scaled body. The importance of the enchanted quill was never more apparent. Such a deceit would not have been possible if Zarjephwu had had possession of the writing instrument. It would protect his band-and, especially, protect him-by foretelling the future. His bite wound, his burns, they were just pains he had to endure. They were not important. The only thing that mattered was getting that quill.

Clotnik paced in front of the bullboggs, the tethered animals watching the dwarf in stolid, buffalolike contentment. The dwarf kept looking down the shadowed deer trail, waiting to learn of Brandella's fate.

After the morning fog had burned off, Clotnik spied Tanis walking slowly up the trail, back to their camp. He was alone, his expression unreadable.

The dwarf's question was clear in Clotnik's face. Looking up at the sky, gazing anywhere but at Clotnik, trying to keep his emotions under control, Tanis answered, "She was afraid at first."

"And then?" Clotnik moved closer.

"I think she found hope."

The dwarf nodded even though he didn't understand what Tanis was talking about. Mostly, he just wanted to console the half-elf. "If there's anything I can do…"

Tanis thought for a moment. "Yes," he finally said. 'There is something. Tell me everything you know about Brandella. I want to hear it, and remember it all."

Clotnik talked, and Tanis listened. They sat on a hillock, catching cool breezes, as the dwarf told him the stories that Kishpa had passed down to him about Brandella. It helped, but even now the jealousy still gnawed at Tanis; he resented that everything he was learning was based on Kishpa's recollections. He wanted so much for her to speak to him directly.

Then he remembered that she had written him a note.

She'd told him that it was just for him, and that it was buried in Ankatavaka. He jumped to his feet.

"What is it7" asked Clotnik.

Tanis didn't answer at first. Doubt shot through him like an arrow. She had written the note to him when they were in Kishpa's memory. As far as he knew, it had happened only in the old mage's mind; in reality, Tanis had never been to the village. If he went to Ankatavaka, would the note actually be there? It didn't seem possible, but he had to find out.

"Come. We're going," he said, putting his hand out to the dwarf.

"Where?" asked Clotnik, taking the offered hand and hoisting himself up off the ground.

'To Ankatavaka."

Tanis thought of Brandella, picturing her writing the note. Each time he imagined it differently. Once he saw her weeping upon the parchment as she wrote a letter of farewell. A second time he conjured up the image of her writing it with painstaking care, crumbling one sheet of parchment after another, unable to find the words to convey her feelings. The third time, she wrote a letter that told him how to find her if ever she were lost. He imagined that she wrote, "Look for me in your dreams." He promised himself that he would.

Clotnik, seeing the half-elf deep in thought, did not bother him. They rode side by side, heading west toward Ankatavaka, just one more day's journey away. When the dwarf told Tanis that the village was in ruins, abandoned decades ago after a damaging flood, it hadn't deterred him. He still wanted to go, telling the dwarf there was something there that he hoped to find.

To amuse himself, Clotnik reached for his traveling bag and took out several of his juggling balls: the brass, gold, and the glass. He hadn't practiced in more than a week, and he didn't want to get rusty. As the bullbogg beneath him lumbered along the trail, Clotnik began tossing the balls into the air in a lazy, steady circle.

A flash of movement caught Tanis's attention and he glanced over at Clotnik. It amazed the half-elf that the dwarf could so comfortably juggle while being carried aloft by a moving creature. He watched in fascination- until he realized that Clotnik was juggling the exquisite clear glass ball with the blue and green markings.

Tanis's lips went dry. He wanted to tell Clotnik to stop, but he feared his voice would startle the dwarf and cause an accident.

Seeing that he had an audience, Clotnik's exercise turned into an elaborate act. The brass ball flew high in the air, followed by the gold, then the glass. What had been a small, tight circle became a breathtakingly large ellipse, at the apex of which the ball almost disappeared.

Tanis couldn't stand it anymore. In as calm a voice as he could muster, hoping it wouldn't break Clotnik's concentration, he said, "That's very good. But I wonder-"

Suddenly, the bullbogg beneath the dwarf stumbled in a rut just as he threw the glass ball high into the sky. It went up at a crazy angle, far over to his right.

Tanis judged the trajectory and spurred his bullbogg into a gallop. The animal ran faster than the half-elf expected. He overran the glass ball; it was coming down behind him. Letting go of the tether around the animal's neck, Tanis leaped off the creature's back and tried to catch the quickly falling glass ball.

Twisting in the air so that he was looking up into the sky, Tanis hit the ground hard, back first. The glass ball was falling from the sky above him. He lifted his hands to catch it… and Clotnik plucked it out of the air just above the half-elf's outstretched fingers, the dwarf's bullbogg nearly trampling Tanis as he trotted by.

The dwarf circled around and rode up to Tanis, asking, "Are you all right?"

The half-elf didn't answer. In a silent fury, he picked himself up, dusted himself off, and then reached up and grabbed the glass ball out of Clotnik's hand. "Don't you ever juggle with that ball again! Not ever!"

Clotnik tried to take the ball back. Tanis wouldn't give it to him. "Why is it so important to you?" questioned the dwarf. "Why should you care7"

"Because I know what that glass ball cost your father."

"It's pretty, but it's old. It can't be worth that much," protested Clotnik.

"It was worth his life," said Tanis.

The dwarf didn't move. He just stared at the beautifully detailed glass ball in Tanis's hand. The orb's delicate swirls carried memories of blue summer skies and green forests.

"It was the last gift he bought your mother," the half-elf explained, softening. "He wanted her to have it even though he could not afford the cost."

'Then he did steal?" Clotnik demanded coldly.

Tanis paused. What good would the truth do Clotnik? For his part, Tanis wished he had been told that his father had been a good and generous man instead of being left to search out the bitter truth. In the end, it wasn't the truth that mattered, anyway, but what you believed to be true. The half-elf was the only one who knew for certain that Mertwig had once made a terrible error in judgment. That secret, he decided, would die with him.

"Your father," said Tanis, "was someone to admire and respect." Thinking fast, he explained, "Mertwig paid for that glass ball with his life because he and your mother were attacked by goblins who tried to steal it. He wouldn't let them take it. And he died fighting them, saving my life in the bargain. So, my friend, please don't juggle this glass ball anymore. Keep it safe, and when you look upon it, think of the love your father had for your mother."

Tanis offered the trinket to Clotnik, who took it reverently in hand. "On the soul of my father, you have my word," said the dwarf.

*****

The raid on the human settlement had gone well, Zarjephwu thought. Not a single human survived, and only one slig had been killed. The bold midday raid netted the remaining fifteen sligs a small herd of bullboggs and several horses, enough animals for each slig to have an extra mount.

They rode their animals hard, not caring if the beasts dropped dead along the way. When that happened, a slig would jump on another steed and keep on riding. By nightfall, they had caught the trail of the woman and her rescuers. Sometime during the following day, they would catch them.

That night, in their camp, the band praised Zarjephwu for his clever strategy and wise leadership. He wondered how many of them suspected that the idea of heading northwest to raid the humans had been Ghuchaz's. Not that it mattered. After what he had done to the young slig, he was safe from challenge. And once he had the enchanted quill, none of them would ever succeed if they dared to try.

Zarjephwu, lying on the hard ground, felt the pain of his burns. As he drifted off to sleep, his jaw opened and sharp teeth glistened in the light of the three-quarter moon. He remembered the man-or was it a half-elf? — who had kicked him into the cookfire and run off with the woman. His reptilian face settled into a smile. Sligs despised elves. He would see that one again tomorrow.