The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (17 page)

What was left of the sweet boy who had loved her lay on the floor. The mat of his hair was his most recognisable feature, tousled, with the front combed in the way he always did it. She could look no further, could go no further.

Ella fell down. She was sick, retching painfully, her entire body rejecting the sight in front of her. It hurt so much. Her stomach cramped again and again; she curled up on her side. It was impossible to look away.

~

T
HEY
found her there and took her away. Someone ran to fetch Amber to take care of Ella.

Ella told them she was to blame, between sobs and gasps. When they probed, she said she’d broken into Master Samson’s workroom on a whim, realising if she said more she’d bring Amber’s engagement into the situation.

Ella could still not stop the cramps in her stomach, the convulsions of her body.

An emergency session of the Academy staff was called.

~

E
LLA
had sent Amber away. It hadn’t been hard, to push her away like that. She didn’t know if Amber hated her now. She supposed her friend did.

She sat on Brandon’s favourite chair, rocking gently on the porch, looking out at the night.

It was a fitting place for her to live, Mallorin, here at the edge of town. She supposed she’d become like Uncle Brandon now, a recluse, spoken about but never spoken to.

Ella didn’t know how long she sat unmoving, without taking food or drink. Long enough for the night to grow cold, long enough for the sounds of the night to rise up from the trees like distant thunder. She heard the call of a tokay as it rumbled and croaked in the night. It sounded plaintive. She wondered if it was lost like her. Lonely.

Goosebumps rose on her arms. She shivered, still weak. All appetite had left her. Her mind kept returning to the sight of Talwin’s broken body.

Sleep came fitfully to her.

~

H
ER
dreams were filled with eyes: Amber’s eyes, accusing; Master Goss’s eyes, staring into her without pity. He held up a vial of essence above Ella’s head. "It’s for your own good," he kept saying. The eyes of the students bored into her, hating her.

She stood outside a window, where a cold pie lay on the sill, untouched. She couldn’t see inside the window, it was hazy. All she could hear were a woman’s sobs, a man’s attempts to comfort her, before he broke down himself. Suddenly a face burst from the window, Talwin’s face, but his eyes had melted away, running down his face.

"Why don’t you love me?" he cried. His hands burst forth from the window, grabbing at her. Ella screamed.

"She’s ill," a calm voice said. Miro’s voice. Ella was dreaming of her brother. "Here, help me with her."

Amber’s voice murmured a reply.

Ella fought back at them, pushing at the hands that grabbed at her, painfully clutching her, their touch searing her skin.

She fell once more into darkness.

~

M
IRO
sat beside his younger sister, his hand gently smoothing the hair back from her brow. She lay sprawled on the bed, sometimes drawing the covers close to her, other times throwing them away, fighting when he or Amber tried to put them back on her. Her skin was terribly hot and sweat coated her body. Yet her face was white, set in a grimace, an expression it hurt him to see on her.

The guilt was terrible. If he hadn’t left, none of this would have ever happened.

"I feel so terrible. It’s all my fault," Amber said, standing by the door. She began to cry again.

Miro continued to sit on the bed. He took one of his sister’s hands. It felt clammy. A draught from outside carried in the chill autumn air.

"Please, come in and shut the door," Miro said.

Amber turned and instead left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Miro heard sobbing coming from the next room.

Miro continued to hold Ella’s hand, occasionally patting her brow with a damp cloth. Some terrible sickness had gripped her, something dark from inside. He did not know if she wanted to live, and without the will, she would surely fade away.

She had grown in the months he had been away, blossoming into a beautiful young woman. She probably still saw herself as the loner, the girl on the edge of town, but Miro knew she would soon be receiving men in droves, come to pay her court. If only she took her eyes from her books for a moment, and saw the way people responded to her bright nature, her sunny smile. Lord of the Sky, please let her be well!

Miro leaned forward and kissed her brow. "Be well, my sister. Know that I love you."

He entered the next room and took a seat next to where Amber sat staring at nothing, morose and red-eyed.

"I’m so sorry, Miro. It’s all my fault."

"You could not have known, Amber. There is no fault."

He paused to regard his sister’s dependable friend. Ella was not the only young woman to have blossomed in the last few months. It was sometimes sad to see the innocent faces of childhood grow into adults around him. He supposed he must be going through the same change.

"You said you thought she wanted to discredit Master Samson, to free you from marrying him. Is marriage such a bad thing, Amber?"

"I don’t love him."

"Have you said as much to your parents?"

"Yes, I have!"

"Shh," Miro soothed. "I meant no offence." He looked back at the doorway to Ella’s room, stopping to listen. He paused to think for a moment. "In life there are some things you can change, and other things you have no control over." His gaze was far away. "Ella and I, we didn’t choose to grow up without our parents. It was something that was thrust upon us. What you need to do, Amber, is to decide what this is, and to act accordingly. It’s always better to take an uncertain step, than to have the same step thrust upon you through inaction."

"It’s easy enough to say."

Miro took Amber’s hand. "Amber, you’re young and you have your life ahead of you. You are also kind and compassionate, and if I may say, you’re growing into a beautiful young woman. Igor Samson obviously sees these qualities in you."

"But I love someone else," Amber said softly. She looked down, and then looked up at Miro, her gaze intent.

"Does he love you in return?" said Miro.

"I… I don’t think so."

Miro smiled in an attempt to lift the mood. "Then forget about him, he doesn’t deserve you. There’s no use pining for water in the desert; sometimes you have to pick a direction and start walking."

Miro went to check on Ella once more, leaving Amber alone with her thoughts.

When he returned, she’d regained some of her composure. He wasn’t sure what Amber had decided, but she seemed to have come to some conclusion.

She started when she saw his face; the concern must have been written across it.

"She has a fever. It’s rising terribly. Amber, do you know where Dunholme is?"

"Dunholme? You want me to go to Dunholme?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"When Ella and I were young, a woman looked after us for a time. Brandon said she was a friend of my mother. Her name was Alarana. She was one of the Dunfolk."

"Really?" Amber’s eyes lit up with interest. Miro could have smiled, if the situation weren’t so grave, always amazed at the way Amber could be crying one minute, laughing the next.

"She raised us in the old ways, keeping it secret from Brandon. For a time we worshipped the Eternal like one of the Dunfolk. She knew about the leaves and the plants, about medicine — magic that can be used on the body."

"On the body? Everyone knows lore can never be applied to the living."

Amber’s voice fell when she realised what she was discussing.

Miro spoke before she had a chance to dwell. "Not lore, this uses no essence, no runes or enchantment."

"What magic are you talking about then?

"Medicine, herbs that help the healing processes of the body."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"Alarana was sure of it, and I believed her. As children, whenever we were sick, she would make a special brew of plant extracts, mosses, and fungi. We always grew better much more quickly than the other children."

"It’s a lot to place our hopes on."

"Amber, listen to me! It’s all we have. In one day, perhaps two, Ella will be dead. I have given her some of a root that I remember Alarana using. It seems to be doing something, but not enough. I need one of the Dunfolk."

Amber took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do?"

15

The Lore of the Enchanter is the precursor to them all.

Study it well.

— The Lore of the Enchanter, 12-56

A
MBER
stepped lightly through the trees, barely able to make her way in the dim light. The thick forest canopy closed in on her. She had no idea what time of day it was, but she seemed to have been walking forever. Miro had told her it would take half a day to walk to Dunholme, half a day to walk back. She hoped she would return soon enough.

The trees were ancient, tangled creatures, crowded close together, fighting for the scattered rays of sunlight that filtered through the tallest tops. The further she travelled from Sarostar, the darker the leaves became, and the more vibrant and abrasive the sounds of the forest. The air was redolent with the scent of damp; somewhere she could hear the tinkle of flowing water, a hidden sound amidst the cries of the forest creatures and the buzz of the insects.

A branch crackled under her thin shoe, breaking completely. Amber’s foot sank down into something wet and soft.

"Urgh," she said, pulling her now wet shoe out with a grimace. "That makes both of them now." She wasn’t sure which of her feet was wetter.

She reached a patch of open ground, littered with twigs and dead leaves. Some animal had made a nest in the fork of a branch above her head. Whatever it was, it was big.

Amber reached into a pocket in the folds of her brown dress and withdrew the seeker Miro had given her. "
Skut-tsee
," she activated it.

The runes glowed softly, the colours arranging themselves in a pattern. Amber lined the pattern up with the arrows and turned slightly to the left.

Miro’s directions had been imprecise at best. "Just keep going due north from Mallorin. Don’t worry, they will find you."

A bird with a red crest burst from the bushes in front her, shrieking. Amber screamed, her hand clutched to her breast. After a moment, realising she was in no danger, she calmed herself.

With her thoughts fixed on her ailing friend, Amber deactivated the seeker and put it away, setting as best a pace as she could through the heavy undergrowth.

~

S
OMETHING
in the character of the forest had changed. If anything, it felt even more ancient, wilder. The trees were much bigger, their trunks so massive that a single slice from them would make a round table big enough for a hundred men. A hundred big men, Amber estimated, walking past a particularly large specimen.

The sheer immensity of the growth around her was startling. Even frightening. At least there was less moisture and thick undergrowth to push through. The trees were spaced far apart and Amber was able to make much better headway, her posture more erect as she forged her way ahead, occasionally checking her direction with the seeker.

She saw a game trail to her left running in the same direction as she wanted to go. With a shrug she joined the trail. It grew larger, more defined as she walked. About the same time she realised she was on a path made by humans, she heard a voice behind her.

"Holy Eternal, what do we have here? Are you lost, young lady?"

Amber jumped and screamed, whirling about, holding her hands close to her mouth. She saw nothing but the rich dark green of the forest.

"The little deer startles easily," another voice spoke, this time from her left.

They sounded so close, but she still couldn’t see them!

"Where are you? Come out."

"Why should we, my little deer?" the first voice spoke.

"A fine jest," said the second one. "Dear deer. Why are you not laughing, my doe-eyed beauty?"

"Show yourselves at once!" Amber said, stamping her foot.

"My dear, you have a temper," laughed the first voice.

"Do you bring a gift, little doe?" said the second.

"I… I don’t know anything about a gift."

"Then we will have to shoot you full of arrows!" the first voice said, still light and playful.

Amber had heard of the things called arrows. Some boys at the Academy had told her stories of the Dunfolk, the primitive people who lived in the forest and kept to themselves so long as they were left alone.

She hadn’t believed the stories at the time. They had said the Dunfolk tied a piece of string to a flexible stick. They put sharp sticks against the string, and when pulled back, the string released the sharp stick to penetrate and hopefully kill an animal. It had seemed strange and far-fetched; she had been sure the boys had been laughing at her.

"Arrows? What are arrows?" she said, hoping to bring them out.

She heard a sharp twang. Something whistled past her ear, so fast it was just a blur. The breath of it startled her; she flinched, closing her eyes. Amber heard a thunk behind her.

Opening her eyes, she turned and looked. A beautifully crafted piece of wood, perfectly straight, stood quivering in the trunk of one of the great trees. It had been spliced with small red feathers at its base, and she could just make out the steel of its sharpened head, stuck deep into the tree.

"That, little doe, is an arrow," the second voice said.

Amber reached up and touched a finger to her ear. She felt wetness, and inspecting her finger, saw red blood.

"Just a little nick," the first voice said. "I take it you have not been invited to Loralayalana?"