Down a Lost Road (12 page)

I stared at them both. “How’d you know about
my feet?”

Yatol turned away, but Akhmar only gazed
meaningfully at me. And I didn’t know why I hadn’t realized it
before. Yatol
had
seen me limping. Somehow he had called
Akhmar, just because of me. To help me. I caught myself smiling,
and in some strange way I thought Akhmar smiled too.

We didn’t have a camp to clear, so our only
real order of business before leaving was breakfast. More than
anything I wanted a hot shower, but that wasn’t going to happen.
I’d settle for food instead. We found some small, sweet fruits like
dates or figs, which satisfied my hunger a lot more than I
expected. After we ate Yatol put a soothing salve on my fingers and
wrapped them in fresh bandages. Much as I wanted to be rid of the
mummy-wraps, at least they would remind me not to smack my hands on
things. And keep me from having to look at my hideously bare
fingertips.

Akhmar gave us two stops along the way to
rest and stretch, then around midday he made his final halt near
the edge of a woodland. When I first saw it my heart sank,
wondering if he had backtracked to the forest I’d already visited,
but then I realized that these trees were unlike anything I’d seen
so far. My eyes followed their trunks, higher and higher. Next to
them our stumpy little Texas trees would have looked like shrubs in
front of redwoods. And I felt so very, very small.

I slid from Akhmar’s back, welcoming the
cushiony grass under my feet. Yesterday I hadn’t noticed if I had
been sore from the ride, but today I couldn’t ignore the ache
saturating my whole body. I just wanted to flop face-first into the
grass and never move.

“
You can find your way well
enough from here,” Akhmar said.

Yatol bowed to him and I murmured my thanks,
feeling strangely sad. Akhmar turned to go, but I broke and ran
over to him. I wanted to embrace him, but somehow that didn’t seem
like the best idea. Was it bad etiquette to hug an angel? Instead I
stopped a few feet from him, hands dangling useless at my
sides.

“
We will see you again,
won’t we, Akhmar? Will you come back to us?”

“
I have done all you need
of me, for now,” he said gently.

And with that he was gone. I sighed and
trailed after Yatol, feeling suddenly lonely. But as we came into
the forest I caught my breath, gazing around at the trees. At least
I
thought
they were trees, but up close they seemed more
like towering plants – their trunks were pliant and smooth, colored
like marbled pewter. At the crown they erupted into a cascade of
starlit blue, the color of the sky just after dusk and before the
darkening of night. The fronds dripped down almost half the height
of the trunk, and as the wind stirred them I caught a subtle, sweet
scent, like magnolias.

My gaze drifted down to the tiny flowers
lining our path, delicate cups of every hue and brimming with a
honey-like fragrance. The light filtered through the starburst
trees and flamed on the rainbow blossoms, while a sweet birdsong
drifted toward us on the gentle breeze. Everything tumbled together
in a kaleidoscope of scent and sound and sight. Even when I closed
my eyes I still felt it surrounding me. I had never felt so lost to
myself, but at the same time I felt more alive than I had ever felt
before. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I felt giddy even
while I felt the deepest, most restful peace, the kind that made
want to lie on my back in the grass and flowers and simply
be
.

“
Merelin!”

I jerked my head up only to find Yatol
waiting for me.

“
We’re here.”

“
Already?”

Yatol glanced at the dusky sky, then
skeptically at me. “Yes, already.”

I flicked a gaze upward. Time certainly had
a way of escaping my notice around here. No wonder I felt so tired.
I scanned the forest then, frowning in confusion.

“
Yatol. We’re
where
?”

Yatol grinned and pointed straight ahead.
Finally I saw it. The strange hut was almost invisible, it blended
so well with the forest. But then I noticed four trees growing in a
perfect line, like pillars. Behind them many smaller trees had been
carefully pruned and trained to lean over the inner building, their
crowns forming a fluid roof while their trunks grew close enough to
form walls. Two small trees with sturdy branches formed the posts
and lintel of an entryway. A cascade of deep green ivy served as a
door, and just as we stepped toward it, it swung aside and a boy
darted out.

“
Yatol!”

He barreled full into Yatol, nearly bowling
him over in an enthusiastic hug.

“
All right, Tyhlaur, get
off me!”

He shoved his brother away and Tyhlaur
stumbled back laughing, but Yatol grabbed his arm to steady
him.

“
Look presentable,” he
warned. “There’s someone for you to meet.”

He glanced back at me, a little smile
touching his face before he beckoned me to join them. As I drew
near I saw Tyhlaur’s eyes widen, and my face burned.

“
But…who is this?” Tyhlaur
shifted a searching gaze from me to Yatol. “She isn’t one of
us?”

“
That’s an interesting
question.”

“
Yatol,
welcome!”

We both turned to the ivy doorway, where
another man had just emerged into the twilight. Yatol moved Tyhlaur
aside and went to greet the older man, dropping to one knee and
bowing his head.

“
Enhyla, Lord!”

I waited breathless, both fascinated and
terrified by the reverence of Yatol’s greeting. He summoned me as
he rose, turning and extending his hand. I went forward, suddenly
nervous, and genuflected like Yatol did.

“
Ah, child, welcome!”
Enhyla murmured, laying his hand on my head. “Most welcome, you
most anxiously awaited!”

Me, awaited? I stared up at him,
tongue-tied, but he only smiled at me. Tyhlaur must have been
thinking the same thing, though, because he strode over to join us,
looking as confused as I felt.

“
What do you mean, Enhyla?”
he asked. “What did you mean, brother?” Turning to me, “Who are
you, anyway?”

Yatol folded his arms, a slight scowl
settling on his face. “Three days ago I guarded her passage to Arah
Byen.”

Apparently that was enough of an answer for
Tyhlaur. He dropped a step back, staring from Yatol to me in wary
disbelief. Enhyla laughed quietly and put a hand on Yatol’s
shoulder.

“
Come inside! The two of
you must be weary. Take what food or rest you wish, and tell me
what news you have.” He glanced back at me. “Though not all tidings
come through words.”

We all followed Enhyla into the hut. I
stopped short just inside the doorway, finding myself in a much
bigger space than I’d expected. The whole hut was basically one
huge room, all but a little bedroom separated at the back by a
branch-woven partition. Two of the walls were filled in with clay
and draped with rough tapestries, depicting fading legends with
fading threads. The other two were living wood, letting the soft
breeze drift through the little chinks and gaps into the room.

A cold fire pit stood in the very center of
the room, filled with brush and twigs waiting to be lit with the
approach of night. The hut didn’t sport much by way of furniture,
but there were several heaps of bright cushions scattered around
the pit. Near the far wall stood a chair and a small table mounded
with books and a roll of velum. A collection of weapons leaned
against the wall in one corner. Above it bunches of herbs and roots
dangled from a woven lattice suspended between the walls.

I was still staring around when Tyhlaur lit
the brush in the fire pit. Overhead the deep blue cascades caught
and held the light, so that the roof seemed to dazzle like
sapphires. Enhyla must have heard my gasp of surprise, because he
glanced across the room at me, and his face creased with a gentle
smile.

I wished Yatol had given me some indication
of who Enhyla was, besides the enigmatic and unhelpful title of
“Lord Master.” Lord Master of what? He was an older man, with a
deep wisdom in his eyes, though he seemed nearly as strong as Yatol
and Tyhlaur. And he had an inner strength that just radiated out of
him. I’d never been in the presence of anybody really important,
but suddenly I could imagine what it would be like to meet a king.
But even that didn’t capture it. My great-grandmother once kept a
painting of an old Indian chief – I still remember how his
penetrating stare always arrested me, like he could see straight
into my heart. That almost came close to how Enhyla made me
feel.

Tyhlaur passed between us, interrupting my
thoughts. I realized now that he was older than I had first
guessed, probably my own age. He wasn’t as tall as Yatol, and he
was slimmer too, less muscular. Somehow he also reminded me of an
Indian, despite his white-gold hair. When we arrived he had been
wearing only breeches and something like a loincloth – I tried not
to look too closely – and leather bracers like mine on his wrists.
Now, at a pointed glance from Yatol, he found a white tunic in a
chest and pulled it over his head. But he glanced at Yatol with a
mischievous spark of defiance, and left it unbelted. Yatol arched a
brow and scowled at him.

I stifled a laugh, seeing their silent
bantering. But then it reminded me so much of Damian and me that my
heart ached with loneliness. I wished more than anything that
Damian were with me now. I couldn’t remember ever being apart from
him this long.

“
Come, children!” Enhyla
said suddenly, beckoning me closer. “Tyhlaur will make some of his
splendid stew, and let us talk. Bring the
bruhvir
around.”

I assumed the
bruhvir
were the piles
of cushions, and Yatol confirmed my guess when he rearranged a few
– “rearrange” meaning he just kicked them closer to the fire.

“
Tyhlaur, make stew!” he
muttered. “What have they done to my brother?”

“
You mean cooking doesn’t
run in the family?”

Yatol swung around to glower at me, but when
I met his gaze with a smile, he turned away laughing. Tyhlaur
winked at me as he set a bronze tripod over the fire.

“
Well, you see, Enhyla only
thinks
I know how to make stew. He’s never actually had it.”
He balanced a cauldron of water on the stand. “So, I suppose you’ll
all find out if I can or not!”

Yatol shot a dubious look at Enhyla, and
Enhyla smiled.

“
But you are not the only
one to have praised your stew, Tyhlaur.”

“
Well, Yatol didn’t have to
know that. What will become of my reputation?”

Enhyla turned to Yatol as Tyhlaur started on
his stew, and I sat down nearby to listen to their talk. They
shared news about people and places I didn’t know, but I liked
hearing the sound of their voices and the curious dignity of their
words. Tyhlaur joined in occasionally, but I didn’t care much for
what
he
had to say. He asked too many questions, and
dismissed too many things that Yatol and Enhyla took quite
seriously. For some reason that really bothered me.

But whatever his views on the political
situation of his people, he did seem to be a good cook. The stew
already smelled wonderful, and my stomach gurgled emptily. If my
mom’s stews were any indication, I knew I was in for a long wait
for dinner. Fantastic. Make me hungry, then don’t let me eat.

After a while, he came and sat beside me,
silent for a few moments as we both listened to Yatol and
Enhyla.

“
Not very interesting for
you, I suppose,” he said at last, nodding toward them.

I didn’t find the politics of my own world
very interesting, but I didn’t want to admit that to Tyhlaur.

“
I don’t understand very
much of it, but it seems interesting.”

“
It’s boring and idiotic,
even if you understand it.”

I seethed inwardly, but then he flashed me a
grin and my anger fizzled. He had a really nice smile, the kind
that made his grey-green eyes light up, like someone had strung
them with sparkly Christmas lights. Though he and Yatol looked a
little alike otherwise, their eyes were totally different. Tyhlaur
stared at me through those eyes now, and I blushed and dropped my
gaze.

“
I guess your world isn’t
that different from mine,” I said.

He laughed. “I have to tell you, I never
wanted to believe the stories. There really is another world!
That’s mad.” He touched me on the arm, just a little poke. “Well,
you look like a real person. You’re kind of pale though.”

“
What? I’m not
that
…” I glanced from my arm to his tanned finger and made a
face. “All right. Maybe I am.”

I turned back to Yatol, trying to hear what
he was saying, but Tyhlaur wouldn’t leave me alone. I wasn’t used
to that kind of attention, and I’ve never been good at the whole
flirting game. I tried to hide behind my hair, but it made no
difference. Tyhlaur just hitched around so that he could see me
again.

“
So, what is your
role?”

“
My
role
? What’s
that supposed to mean?”

He waved his hand vaguely. Like that
helped.

“
What do you
do
?”

“
Um, I go to school. I’m a
teenager, what else should I be doing?”

Tyhlaur rolled his eyes. “School’s for
infants. Unless you’re like Yatol. Study, study. What’s the
point?”

Right now I couldn’t see any point to what
I’d learned all those years in school, at least not as far as my
current predicament went. But I couldn’t get past the fact that
Tyhlaur had just insulted Yatol. My blood boiled. I wanted to slap
the mischievous grin off his face.