The Mountains Rise (24 page)

I paused for a moment, seeing the strange looks on Moira and Matthew’s faces. “What?”
I asked bluntly.

“You should know,” suggested Moira, and Matthew nodded.

I had been rather caught up in my tale, reliving the events of Daniel Tennick’s life
and relaying them without spending too much time editing or reflecting upon them directly.
I took a moment to review the last half an hour. “Oh,” I said suddenly before adding
a weak excuse, “It was a different time.”

Matthew grinned at me conspiratorially, “I don’t think Mom would want you telling
us about some of these—things.” His body language indicated that he was perfectly
fine with a secret conspiracy.

His sister wasn’t quite so ready to become an accomplice, “
Those people were disgusting.”

Her tone set me back, for it seemed she was
missing
some important lessons. “There is no doubt that they lived miserable, almost animal-like
existences, but you should remember that they had little choice in the
matter
.”

“Nobody forced them to do those things,” she argued.

“What do you think you would do, if you were raised in a pen, forced to fight with
other children just to get your daily food, with no parents to protect and love you,
and no one you could trust? How would you think if you were given no education?
You have seen how cruel children can be, especially to one another. Imagine if they
were ungoverned and left to their own devices. Imagine being beaten and abused by
those older and stronger.”

Moira’s face took on a pained expression.

I didn’t let up, though, “Then imagine that when you finally got close to what you
thought of as ‘adulthood’, the ripe old age of twelve, you were forced to fight and
kill another child. Your initiation into adulthood is being forced to kill or be
killed, by the only beings you can possibly regard as authority figures. The only
reason they weren’t more bestial and crude was that the most insane and animalistic
of them tended to die earlier.”

“It’s still horrible,” she declared.

“I agree,” I told her. “Just remember that those people are our ancestors. We are
descended directly from them, the survivors of that time. Only a few thousand years
have passed
,
and we are no different from them in our nature at birth. We have one big advantage,
though.”

Lynarralla chose that point to interject, “What is that?”

Both I and my children found that answer obvious, especially given my speech, but
Lynarralla wasn’t born with enough experience to understand. “Love,” I told her.
“We care for one another, we rear our young and teach them. That’s exactly why Tyrion
surprised the She’Har of that time. They thought the humans in their camps were devolved
,
lesser creatures, incapable of the strength they
had
found in the humans they fought seven thousand years before. What they didn’t realize,
was that the major difference was in upbringing.”

Her face was still confused.

“She’Har are born with all the knowledge they will need. They are born without weaknesses,
other than a lack of experience. Humans are different. We develop from helpless
,
completely ignorant little animals, into complex and loving social creatures,” I
explained. “The nourishment we receive, in love and knowledge, as well as food, while
we are growing, makes a huge difference.”

“I think perhaps I understand,” admitted Lynarralla.

“It may be that if the She’Har of Tyrion’s time had understood
,
we wouldn’t be here now, or maybe the war would have been avoided
.”

Moira seemed a bit impatient. “Get back to the story,” she insisted, “just leave
out the sex stuff.”

I sighed, “I haven’t been describing any of it, and the story wouldn’t make sense
if you didn’t know what was going on.”

“My innocence is already ruined,” Moira replied melodramatically.

“Just go on,” said Matthew.

“Alright,” I began, “Let’s see, Daniel was twenty then, and nearing his twenty-first
birthday, although he had no good way to keep track of exact dates. He just counted
the seasons. He had been there almost four and a half years
,
and word of his strange music had spread throughout Ellentrea…”

***

It was late spring and Daniel had grown accustomed to the changes his music had brought.
In the evenings the wardens would come to release him and all those
who
were unoccupied would wait outside his room to listen. Some of the unnamed servants
would come as well, those
who
had jobs that left them free near that time. They risked abuse at the hands of the
wardens, but such was the draw of his music that those
who
were able, came anyway.

Today Daniel was just beginning. The crowd had heard all of his songs many times
over by now, but they never seemed to tire of them.
He spent much of his free time picking out new melodies
,
but he was still forced to play many of the same tunes again and again. He frequently
lamented that
,
without other instruments
,
the people of Ellentrea would never know the sound of a multi-part piece played by
a real band.

Halfway through his first song the gathered people began to move away. Most of t
he unnamed servants simply left
as quickly and as directly as they could. Some of the wardens did so too, while
the others merely drew back, creating some distance between themselves and Daniel.

A brown-skinned
She’Har male
, with vivid red hair and eyes approached. His coloration immediately
declared
that he was a She’Har of the Gaelyn grove. The red hair of the Gaelyn’s was nothing
like the natural red that Kate’s hair had been. It was a crimson that might have
been more at home on a rose or some other flower.

Knowing that each grove had originally designed their human forms, Daniel couldn’t
help but think that the Gaelyn She’Har must have terrible taste, but he kept those
thoughts to himself.

“Why are the baratti gathered here?” he asked, directing his question to Daniel.

Setting his instrument aside, Daniel answered, “Pardon my ignorance, master, but I
do not know your name to address you properly.”

“I am Syllerond,” responded the She’Har.

“Master Syllerond, these people came to hear music,” explained Daniel. He had had
few interactions with the She’Har directly, other than Thillmarius
,
and the few meetings he had had with Lyralliantha. In general they had always seemed
rational to him, if indifferent and sometimes cruel. Thillmarius had taught him that
his punishments, while painful, were not malicious, but rather the result of cold
calculation. As a result of learning his lessons, Daniel had not required ‘correction’
in years.

“Who has given you permission to make such noise and disrupt the peaceful functioning
of Ellentrea?” asked the She’Har.

No one,
thought Daniel, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Thillmarius had doubtless noticed
his music-making months ago and hadn’t seemed inclined to punish anyone for it. Ellentrea,
and all those within it, except for Daniel himself, were the property of the Prathion
Grove. If anyone were to punish them, it would have been Thillmarius or someone under
his direction.

Daniel was the sole exception, being owned by Lyralliantha. The Illeniel Grove had
never owned humans before, so Thillmarius had graciously agreed to provide for Daniel’s
care and feeding, as a favor to Lyralliantha. Daniel knew it was primarily an excuse
so that Thillmarius would have free reign to study him. In any case, his punishment
wouldn’t come at the hands of a She’Har of the Gaelyn Grove, unless he offered some
offense.

Daniel knew better than that.

“Thillmarius oversees us here,” said Daniel, reciting a fact that Syllerond must already
know. “He has not forbidden it,” he added truthfully.

“You are Tyrion, the wildling, are you not?”

“Yes, master.”

The She’Har’s eyes narrowed, “Your tone is arrogant. Do you think that your victories
in the arena make you greater than the She’Har?”

“No, master,” Daniel re
p
lied meekly, keeping his eyes downcast.

Syllerond frowned, “Your answer is correct, but I doubt your sincerity. What is that?”
The Gaelyn She’Har pointed at Daniel’s instrument.

A shock of fear ran through him. Syllerond might hesitate to do any harm to the property
of another grove, but the humans of Ellentrea owned nothing. Daniel’s cittern was
fair game. “It is my musical instrument, master. My people call it a ‘cittern’.”

“Your ‘people’?
” questioned Syllerond with a sneer.

Daniel knew his mistake instantly. It was something that even Thillmarius was prone
to be irritated by—the suggestion that humans were ‘people’. “I meant no disrespect,
master,” he apologized hastily.

“I know exactly what you meant, baratt,” said the She’Har. “Give me the device.”

Daniel hesitated. He already knew that no matter what he did, he would be punished.
Syllerond was probably one of th
e Gaelyn trainers for Garoltrea;
most of the She’Har didn’t bother to learn the human language. Once
Syllerond
spoke with Thillmarius the Prathion trainer would have no choice but to discipline
Daniel. Still, he couldn’t bear to hand over the cittern. Its music had saved him
. Without it
there would be nothing worth living for
.

Cold sweat appeared on his brow
,
and the memory of Thillmarius’ punishments threatened his bladder control. “Please,
master, it is of no value,” he begged. His hands pushed the instrument further behind
him.

Syllerond lashed out with his fist, striking Daniel hard. He had no shield up, nor
would he dare to create one in the presence of
one of the She’Har. The blow sent him sprawling onto the hard packed earth that served
as a street in Ellentrea, his cittern fell to the ground a few feet away.

Lifting his leg, the She’Har made as if to smash the wooden instrument with his foot.
Without thinking, Daniel pushed himself away from the ground and threw himself bodily
against Syllerond’s legs to keep him from damaging the precious instrument.

“You dare?!” shouted the Gaelyn She’Har, eyes wide with rage.

Daniel knew he would die then. He had done violence to one of ‘the people’.

Syllerond summoned up a deadly looking spellweaving, creating a long black rod of
interwoven aythar and raising it above his head. Stricken by fear, Daniel cowered.

Death would have taken him then, but for one thing. Before
the
blow could be delivered
,
a woman ran from the crowd, throwing herself over Daniel as a shield. The black
rod struck
,
and seemed to dissolve against her skin as the lines of power that comprised it
sank into her body, twining and twisting like worms sinking into soft soil.

“Out of the way, trash,” said Syllerond coldly, kicking Amarah away from Daniel.
Her body was twitching
,
and he could see the She’Har spellweaving inside her, shifting and moving as it destroyed
her flesh from within.

“No!” screamed Daniel,
as if his voice alone could deny the reality in front of him
. Amarah was writhing on the ground, dying, and there was nothing he could do for
her. Syllerond paused, seeming to delight in watching the drama unfolding before
him.

Amarah gazed intently at him as she writhed, and Daniel understood then, what she
had never been able to articulate before. Her lips opened, “Thank you for my name…”

Sorrow was something Daniel lived with
,
and depression was an almost daily companion. Anger and violence he had learned
to accept, but love was something he had given up hope for.

He had been unsure if it truly existed, and now it was gone before he could appreciate
it.

“Be fearful, baratt, for the nameless one’s fate awaits you,” said Syllerond.

The paralyzing fear that Thillmarius’ past torments had instilled in him vanished,
replaced by a formless fury that left no room within him for anything else. Staring
up at Syllerond
,
Daniel’s mind hardened and became clear, suffused with the clarity that he normally
only felt when in the arena. Death was a gift, his eventual reward, but first he
would share his pain with the foe
who
stood before him.

“Her name was Amarah,” said Daniel.

The She’Har stood looking down on him
;
a new rod, already prepared and waiting for its victim, was in his hand. His confidence,
developed from countless decades dealing with human slaves, was so great that he hadn’t
bothered to erect any sort of defense.
Syllerond began to laugh at Daniel’s pronouncement of her name.

He simply can’t conceive of a human threatening him,
noted Daniel.

“Burn!” said Daniel, sending his will out with a speed that he knew would surprise
his tormentor. The air around the Gaelyn She’Har ignited and encased him in flames.

His power was even more effective than he had expected, almost as if the word had
reinforced his imagination. Daniel had spoken purely in anger, but the back of his
mind noted the effect
,
and he resolved to test it later.

There won’t be a later. They’ll kill you for this,
his inner voice reminded him
.
But
this one dies first, though.

The flames winked out, smothered instantly once Syllerond managed to focus past the
pain and fear that the searing fire had wrought. His hair was gone, leaving nothing
but charred remnants and burned skin where it had been. His face was ruined, covered
in a mixture of blisters and blackened skin
, much like the rest of his body. The She’Har’s eyes were seared and opaque.

He had to be in considerable pain, but other than that, and the cosmetic damage, Syllerond
was still a serious threat. He didn’t need eyes to see, Daniel knew that already.
The burns might inhibit his movement, but they wouldn’t interfere with his magic.

A strange shield surrounded the She’Har now. Unlike those used by Daniel and the
other human mages, this shield was not smooth, but rather composed of a legion of
tiny interwoven lines of aythar. Within the lines
,
Daniel could see tiny symbols linked together, but the overall effect made it look
as though Syllerond’s shield had been created by twining vines around himself.

Syllerond’s mouth opened as he attempted to speak, to threaten the man
who
had burned him, but he had inhaled some of the flames
,
and his voice was unintelligible.

Daniel had a shield around himself, but it was purely from reflex. He knew from past
experience that his shields, even if reinforced by a drawn circle, wouldn’t do more
than slow down She’Har spellweaving.

If you can’t stop the attack, make sure you aren’t where it lands.

Hundreds of matches in the arena had made Daniel’s responses in combat
smooth and automatic. He had seen the tricks of a multitude of opponents and learned
to deal with them. Some he had copied or improved.

Fighting against Prathion
s had often made him wish for their invisibility, but had also forced him to develop
his own alternatives. Using his aythar to whip the air, Daniel raised a cloud of
dust and dirt around them, but he didn’t stop there. Rather than just creating a
cloud of dirt
,
he imbued it with his aythar, making the cloud opaque in a way that obscured not
just normal vision, but magesight as well.

Syllerond still hadn’t moved from his position, but he lashed out with the spellwoven
rod he had created, using it as a staff. He swung at the area that Daniel had recently
been standing in, but failed to hit anything. Extending his power
,
the staff grew to a length of more than ten feet
,
and the She’Har began to whip it around himself, hoping to hit anyone or anything
nearby.

Daniel had already moved beyond that range, and his mind was working on his options
for attack. The She’Har’s ability with spellweavings gave him a tremendous advantage
,
but his overall strength was less than half of Daniel’s, a fact that surprised him.

He isn’t much stronger than the human mages I’ve fought. In fact, he’s weaker than
some of them.

The magical dirt cloud obscured Daniel’s senses
,
but he didn’t have to guess at Syllerond’s location. The She’Har had obviously never
fought in a serious battle before
;
he remained standing in the same location
, confident that his shield would protect him from anything.

Daniel began to send a barrage of rocks and stones at him, accelerating them to incredible
speeds with his aythar before directing them at the center of the cloud. He was fairly
sure none of them would break the other’s shield
,
but they kept
his foe
focused on defense. The She’Har had released his spellwoven rod and was now responding
by sending spear-like lances out, striking back along the trajectory of Daniel’s stony
missiles.