Down a Lost Road (20 page)

“
No!” I cried. “Yatol, we
have to find him!”

“
It may be some
consolation, that what Tyhlaur said is true. No one has ever been
able to keep him confined. Whether he be here or in your world,
there is yet a good chance he has escaped already.”

“
A good chance?” Kurtis
said. “A chance isn’t good. He’s their uncle!”

“
I am sorry, but there is
nothing further I might say to comfort you.”

His gaze caught mine, flickered toward
Tyhlaur, then he got to his feet abruptly and beckoned me. He
stopped just outside the hut, drawing me away from the pool of
light filtering past the ivy curtain.

“
I don’t want to scare
them, either by telling them where I’m afraid Charlon is, or by
letting them know you’ve been there.” His eyes flickered away from
mine, a thin tense breath escaping his lips. “I have a feeling your
brother wouldn’t be very happy to know that you were taken prisoner
once already. My brother doesn’t need to know either.”

I swallowed and nodded. He had a point.
Maybe that was why I had left out that part of the story when I
told it to Damian.

“
You think they’ve taken
him to Azik?”

“
Yes. I don’t think Azik
has arrived yet, but I’m sure he’s been summoned.”

“
There’s no way we can try
to rescue him?”

“
Let me think it over.” He
smiled strangely. “I’ve been in the tower a few times. I may even
have gone intentionally once or twice. Right now let’s just focus
on what’s at hand.”

I nodded and followed him back into Enhyla’s
hut. My stomach churned with hunger or fear, but it had gotten to
that point where the thought of food made my gut knot up. I clamped
an arm around my waist and stood absently near the fire, not really
thinking about anything. Tyhlaur joined me after a moment, putting
a hand on my shoulder and peering at me anxiously.

“
You all right,
Merelin?”

I nodded, trying not to edge away from him.
He was concerned. Nothing else.

“
Just hungry,” I
murmured.

“
Well, I’ll tell the stew
to cook faster. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

I smiled in thanks and sat down next to
Damian, trying not to stare at Yatol as he and Enhyla leaned over
some browned piece of parchment on the little table. After a moment
Tyhlaur went to join them, leaving the three of us still sitting
near the fire. Damian elbowed me, leaning his head close to
mine.

“
I don’t know, Mer, he
doesn’t seem like your usual type.”

“
What?” I gasped, my cheeks
burning.

His eyes glinted mischief. “Thought you were
more into the clean-cut, preppy type.”

I stammered something incoherent, just
praying that Kurtis wasn’t listening. Or Yatol. The thought made my
face burn fiercer, and I buried my head against my knees. Why was I
feeling so dizzy? It couldn’t just be embarrassment. Maybe it was
the hunger. Damian elbowed me again.

“
Though a guy with a spear
must be pretty hard to resist. And he can cook.”

I jerked my head up. “You mean
Tyhlaur
?” I cried, more loudly than I meant.

Luckily none of the three at the table
seemed to have heard me. Damian just looked at me, confused, and I
stared back, trying to think of something to say and failing
epically. Then a little light of understanding flashed in Damian’s
eyes, and he leaned toward me again.

“
Yatol? Really?” he
whispered.

“
I don’t know,” I muttered
petulantly.

Damian watched Yatol for a moment, then shot
me a grin. “Makes more sense than Tyhlaur, actually. Yeah, he’s
more your type.”

I scowled, but wasn’t about to argue. Damian
laughed and turned away to say something to Kurtis. I was just glad
that Tyhlaur decided at that moment that his stew was done, and
ladled it out into the smooth wood bowls. Yatol helped distribute
them.

Again silence reigned over the meal. Damian
kept looking like he wanted to speak, but noticing that no one else
was talking, he kept his thoughts to himself. I fixed my eyes on my
bowl. My stomach rumbled but my throat closed down. I could hardly
swallow. I don’t know why. The stew smelled as good as I remembered
it, and I couldn’t think of a time all that day I hadn’t felt
hungry. Maybe the bread would be easier. But I could hardly lift it
to my mouth.

The world blurred and greyed. The bread and
the bowl clattered to the ground. I stared at my hands gone weak
and numb.

And then everything fell into shadow, and
someone was holding me up.

“
Merelin, Merelin!” Damian
cried.

He cradled me against his chest, one hand
against my cheek holding my head close to his shoulder, just like
Dad had always held me when I was upset or afraid. As my vision
returned I saw Yatol standing up, paralyzed with alarm. I wondered
why he was so upset. He’d seen me in worse condition before.

Enhyla said something to him, and he stirred
at last to tell Damian to take me to the bedchamber. Soon I found
myself nestled in the pelts with my face buried in the warm fur.
Damian stayed with me, asking me repeatedly if I was all right. I
hardly heard him, but Yatol’s voice from the other room was
painfully distinct.

“
It’s begun,” he said,
bitter and tense.

“
She will endure it,”
Enhyla murmured. “She has the strength.”

“
She shouldn’t have to!
It’s too much. It was too much for him, and it is too much for
her…”

They kept talking, but their voices faded
from my mind. I could sense Damian still crouching beside me, but
had neither the will nor the strength to move at all. I felt myself
drifting toward sleep.

Chapter 14 – Flight

Light sifted down through the woven roof,
almost tangible, like a brush of feathers against my face. A faint,
cool breeze stirred the blue tendrils. I felt the breath on my
cheek and opened my eyes, gazing up at the roof. The swaying vines
stirred some memory buried deep inside of me, and my heart
ached.

It was just such a morning in mid-spring. I
was only five or six. The gentle tinkling of wind chimes drifted
back to me…the rainbow vision of early sunlight dancing through a
painted glass unicorn. I had helped Mom paint the sun catcher the
night before, and then watched as Dad put the chimes together. We’d
hung it up way past my bedtime, and I had lain awake for hours
listening to the delicate, melancholy sound.

In the morning I found my dad sitting on the
glider out on the porch, drinking his coffee and poring over a
book. I traipsed out in pajamas and enormously fuzzy pink slippers,
and when I climbed onto the glider he set aside his book and
wrapped his arms around me against the morning cool.

“
What were you reading,
Daddy?”

“
Oh, a book for school,
darling,” he said, and I remember the rumble of his voice against
his chest.

“
What book?”

“
Well, it tells the story
of people many, many years ago. About battles they fought, and
places they went, and things they did.”

“
Will you read it to me,
Daddy?”

He laughed, that wonderful sound I cherished
more than any other, and kissed me on the head. “Perhaps when you
are older.”

He had said something then, in some language
I didn’t know. But suddenly, lying in Enhyla’s hut with the memory
vivid in my mind, I jolted. I heard his voice, speaking those
words, but now I understood them:

“
It is the tale of your
people, my daughter, and someday I shall teach it to
you.”

My spine tingled, and my eyes blurred with
tears. I let my memory drift forward, to a stormy night in late
autumn. The wind chimes tossed in shrill cacophony on the gusting
wind, and the rain slanted in under the porch awning. Dad had just
left the house, and stood bathed in the pool of warm, golden light
from the open door.

“
Daddy, why are you
going?”

His eyes, so dark and sad.

“
It is as it must
be,”
he murmured,
“and where I am going, you must
follow.”

A gasping sob startled me out of the memory,
and I sat bolt upright shaking all over. My gaze fell on Damian,
slumped against the inner wall where he had fallen asleep the night
before. I was glad I hadn’t woken him up. Everything was quiet in
the other room, and I realized it must still be early. I picked
myself up and pushed some furs toward Damian. Biting my lip, I
moved him gently so that he could lie down. He didn’t wake up – he
always slept like a rock. I slipped out through the gap in the
trunks and crept as quietly as I could away from the hut.

“
You’re up
early.”

I swung around and found Yatol sitting under
a nearby tree. He looked like he’d been there some time, alone,
deep in thought. For some reason the sight of him dragged my heart
to my throat. More than anything I wished I could understand the
melancholy in his eyes.

“
I’m glad to see you up,”
he added. “How do you feel?”

That seemed encouraging – almost like he was
asking for my company. I made my way over and sat down, not too
close but as close as I dared.

“
What was wrong with me? I
feel better, but still kind of strange.”

He sighed. “It’s difficult, to make the
voyage to this world. There’s a price to be paid for that
freedom.”

“
Is Pyelthan what lets me
travel here to Arah Byen?”

“
No. If only it were that
simple. You can call open the portal because you have that gift.
Because you’re a daughter of this land.”

His words sent a sudden chill through my
veins. I shivered and drew up my knees, resting my chin on
them.

“
Yatol, why haven’t I ever
seen any children or women here?”

“
You haven’t seen much of
anyone since you came. Most of the people have all retreated to the
city beyond the
Perstaun
.”

“
A city!”

“
Alcalon. It’s a beautiful
city, the crown of Arah Byen, the king’s city. I’ve only been there
once myself, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It could
probably hold most of our people comfortably within its walls. So
when the Ungulion began this last assault, we sent as many of the
people as we could to take shelter there. Maybe they can hold out
in a siege, if it comes to that. We’ve been trying to hold our
borders against the Ungulion, but it doesn’t make any difference.
Every day they seem to get a little closer.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking.
He seemed fairly talkative, and I wondered how long he would
tolerate my curiosity. What I really wanted to know seemed so
ridiculous, so completely unimportant, that I couldn’t imagine
asking it. Here we were in the middle of some kind of world-ending
war, and there was just one question burning in my mind like the
whole fate of the universe depended on his answer.

“
Do you have anyone there?”
I blurted before I could stop myself. Then, ears burning, I added
quickly, “I mean, your family? I know you have Tyhlaur
here…”

He sat very still for a moment, hands
clasped loosely on his knees, eyes flooded with pain.

“
No. No one,” he said
carefully.

I couldn’t even breathe an inward sigh of
relief, he seemed so sad.

“
My mother lived in Alcalon
for two years until her death, and she was a widow. And…my sister.
She would now be almost your age, if she still lived.”

“
I’m so sorry, Yatol,” I
murmured, when I could force myself to speak. He nodded, but had
his eyes fixed on his hands. “What happened to her?”

“
She gave her life to save
Tyhlaur and me,” he said, hoarse, after the silence had drawn out
too long for comfort.

I bit my lower lip to stop its trembling.
For a minute I got the crazy idea that I could give him a hug. But
then Yatol leaned his head back against the tree, eyes closed, and
suddenly forcing a hug on him seemed like the worst idea in the
world.

I wandered back to Enhyla’s hut. As I drew
nearer I noticed the ivy curtain swinging in the doorway. Someone
had just left…or arrived. I had almost reached the hut when a cold
rush of dread washed over me, like a black wind sweeping through
the forest. All my blood plunged to my feet, and I sprinted the
rest of the way.