A Daughter of Kings, Part I

  Chapter IV

  “The Black Star”

  The next morning dawned clear and cold. Even the few faint clouds Alirah had seen in the night had vanished. The sun shone bright but feebly in the sky. Altogether the world seemed to have slipped a month backwards toward winter.

  The commotion in the camp as everyone got up and did their last packing roused Alirah not long after the first pale light had crept around the perimeter of her tent. She’d re-packed her few belongings and said her farewells in a groggy haze.

  She’d hugged and kissed her mother and father, and wept with them. A few of her girlfriends cried and protested furiously when they realized what she was doing, and she’d had to endure more than one of tearful harangue. Kaya shed a few tears in silence, but she did not weep. As they said their farewells she unwound the old blue ribbon from her hair. Nuara had given it to her when she was little, and she’d worn it almost every day since. Now she pressed it into Alirah’s hands.

  “Think of us while you’re gone,” she commanded. “And bring it back!”

  Elidan had remained grinning to the end, though behind his smile he looked pale and unhappy.

  “You take care of him, sis,” he’d said, nodding toward Kelorn and glaring at him. “Make sure he gets home safe.”

  Alirah kept promising everyone, over and over, that she would return. Nobody seemed to quite believe her. She wasn’t sure if she believed herself. When all the farewells had been said and she mounted the horse she’d been given, it took an immense effort not to start crying all over again. But, finally, she and Kelorn had ridden away.

  Now it was late morning. They were riding north and a little east at an easy pace. Ahead of them the land rose slowly in long, gentle swells, each one a trifle higher than the last. In between the swells were creases where small streams trickled amidst narrow stands of reeds and willows. A few pines and cypress trees grew near the water, but the hillsides were bare except for grass and scattered stands of gambrel oak. In the distance to the east rose great sandstone buttes and cliffs, while to the west the land dropped steadily towards the sea.

  Alirah rode a few paces behind Kelorn, silent and miserable. Her eyes were red and itchy from the morning’s tears, and already the hard saddle was starting to make her sore. She wore a soft, blue tunic and faded green pants of homespun cloth. The clothes had belonged to her brother before he’d outgrown them. With Kaya’s ribbon she’d tied her hair back into a long ponytail. A light cloak was draped about her shoulders, and her father’s sword hung at her side.

  Kelorn rode hunkered down upon his saddle and wrapped up in his big, green cloak. He’d said his farewells to Ethyrin and Nuara politely enough, but otherwise he’d spoken very little all morning. Whether he was angry about having to go with her, or just shy, Alirah could not tell. As the morning wore on he looked very steadily ahead. She stared at his back, but she only saw the faces and heard the voices of those she’d left behind.

  At last, bored and anxious to drive away her mournful thoughts, Alirah dug her heels into her horse’s flanks. She intended to catch up with Kelorn. Instead she shot right past him and had to pull back desperately on the reins to slow down again. She blushed scarlet when he caught up to her, looking startled.

  Horses were always in short supply among the Kwi’Kiri, and Alirah felt both honored and guilty that one had been provided for her. However, the horse she had been given was a young, excitable mare named Tryll. Alirah herself had seldom ridden on horseback, and so controlling her steed was a constant and frustrating job. Kelorn’s horse, who was named Melyr, gave Tryll a look of disdain as she drew abreast.

  “It’s going to be a long ride if we don’t start talking to one another,” said Alirah, trying hard to sound cheerful.

  Kelorn blushed, then managed a smile.

  “It’s going to be a long ride anyway, your Highness. But you’re right, of course. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? It’s not too late to go back, you know.”

  Alirah smirked. “I’m sure. Are you so anxious to be rid of me?”

  Kelorn’s blush deepened and he stared down at Melyr’s neck. “You just seem so sad. You were crying so when you said goodbye to your parents, and everyone was glaring at me like I was kidnapping you. I feel like I’m kidnapping you.”

  “Well, you aren’t. I checked,” said Alirah. With an effort she managed a bright smile.

  He smiled wanly, but shook his head. “I know that. I just feel like I have. And as I said before, this will be a dangerous journey, your Highness. And when we get back to Arandia it’ll still be dangerous. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt either, if that helps,” said Alirah. “And don’t call me your Highness. Nobody’s ever called me that. I have a name, you know.”

  “Okay… Alirah,” he said, hesitating as though the name were difficult to say. “I just… I don’t think this is a good idea, your coming back with me.”

  “I know you don’t. My parents told me so. But what did you come out here for if you didn’t want to bring someone back with you? And would you really rather go all the way back all alone?”

  “No! But… I…” He flushed, and for a moment he seemed to choke upon his words. When he did speak his voice was halting.

  “Of course I don’t want to ride back all alone. But I don’t… Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Alirah, but I came out here to bring back the rightful king of my people. To help him return and overthrow the Tyrants who are destroying our country. I did not come so that I could take a young girl away from her parents, and escort her across hundreds of leagues of wilderness so that she can… can do I don’t even know what. Not claim the throne, I assume, since your father refused to do so and rightfully it’s still his.”

  “No,” Alirah agreed quietly. “I don’t intend to claim the throne.”

  “Then what do you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know. I just know I’m supposed to go and do something.”

  He grimaced, and made a small noise like a not-quite-stifled snort of exasperation. Alirah scowled and looked away.

  “Maybe it’d better be your Highness after all,” she muttered.

  He did not seem to hear her. He spoke on vehemently. “You do realize we could be robbed or killed along the way? That even if we’re not, if nobody and nothing gives us any trouble, you’re still going to be dirty and smelly and exhausted for days and weeks at a time?”

  “Of course I realize that!”

  Again he did not seem to hear. His words continued to pour out, now directed as much toward himself as to her. “…And it’s only too likely we will run into some kind of trouble at some point. And I’ll have to protect you. I’ve sworn to protect you! I have to hold your hand and get you there safe and sound no matter what happens. And I barely got out here alive myself!”

  Alirah glared at him. For a few seconds more than one angry retort vied to be the first to pass her lips. Yet all her words died within her. By the look on his face it was obvious that he had not meant to insult her, though of course he’d succeeded in doing so. His voice was fraught with genuine distress, and he no longer looked at her. He gazed down at Melyr’s neck, where she felt certain he imagined in too-vivid detail all the possible dangers of their journey and how he might protect her from them. Alirah felt touched, but she was still annoyed.

  “Look,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Nobody is asking you to hold my hand. I can take care of myself. How about this? I promise that I will not be a burden on you. I’ll try to help you just as much as you help me. But I want you to promise me you’ll stop assuming I’m a silly child who has no idea what she’s doing. I wasn’t crying this morning because I thought I was going on a nice, fun little trip. And believe it or not, I didn’t expect to ride halfway across the world without getting di
rty!”

  He looked up at her again. For a moment he stared at her with clear doubt in his blue-gray eyes, but then his expression softened. He managed a sheepish smile.

  “Okay,” he said. “It’s a deal.”

  They rode on for a few minutes in silence. Overhead a few high, thin clouds were finally beginning to intrude upon the perfect blue of the sky. The day was growing swiftly warmer under the bright sun. Alirah could see that they were already passing into lands that were unknown to her. She felt another pang of loneliness and loss. Taking a deep breath, she cast about for something else to talk about.

  “So what exactly is a Druid, anyway?” she asked. “My father may know, but I don’t.”

  Kelorn blushed again and looked uncomfortable. He hesitated several seconds before answering. When he did his voice was a nervous stammer.

  “The Druids… Well, we’re servants, I guess. Warriors and servants of the Light. We protect the Priestesses of Illana.”

  “Oh,” said Alirah. Then after another moment, “Who are the Priestesses of Illana then? Who’s Illana, for that matter?”

  “Illana… Illana is the Goddess,” said Kelorn slowly. “Do your people not have stories of the Goddess?”

  “Well, we do,” said Alirah. She felt suddenly uncouth, as if she’d asked him what silverware was for. “We have stories of the Goddess, but we don’t name Her Illana and we don’t have any priestesses, or priests either.”

  “Illana is the name of the Goddess among our people,” said Kelorn, gaining confidence as he continued. She had the sense that he was now recalling his words from lessons thoroughly learned. “When the ancestors of those who founded Arandia, your ancestors on your father’s side, were wandering lost in the wilderness, Illana came with Her Light to guide them. The women who took up Her call were the first priestesses. Evil men, men who had been corrupted by the Darkness, attacked them. Good men stood up to protect the priestesses. Eventually they became an order unto themselves and were called Druids. Today we still protect and serve the priestesses, and we fight against the creatures and servants of the Deceiver.”

  “That sounds good,” said Alirah, smiling at him to encourage him out of his unhappy shyness. “So what do you actually do? You said you are warriors, so you’re trained to fight? Didn’t you say before that you killed two or three of the Taragi who attacked you?”

  She’d chosen her words poorly; his bashful pride vanished. He hung his head. “I might have killed them. I don’t know if I did and I hope I didn’t. I mean… they did attack me, and I’m sure they would have killed me, but…”

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly.

  “I know, I know…” He waved his hand dismissively, but his tone of voice implied that he knew nothing of the kind. “It just… isn’t. But yeah, the Druids have learned a lot about fighting, and… other things. We’re not easy to beat. But fighting isn’t all we do! We observe some of the holy rites that the priestesses do, and we know the Old Tongue, which is what we call the old language of the Eredun. A lot of old knowledge and mysteries are preserved in that language. And we learn other skills too. I made this sword myself, and I helped in the blessing and enchanting of it.”

  His voice became stronger and more animated as the subject veered away from fighting. Alirah listened attentively, feeling younger and more unlearned every moment. After he finished speaking she sat silently for a few moments, gazing ahead across the grasslands. The horizon ahead was now strange to her.

  “So where are we going, exactly?” she asked at length. “I mean, I know we’re going to Arandia eventually. But where are we going right now?”

  “We’re heading for the city I spoke of earlier, Rusukhor. We can get more food and water there, and maybe sleep in a bed for a night or two before going on into the wilderness again. But today we’ll just ride on for a few hours and then rest. I intend to travel by night as much as we can. At least until we get to lands where there’s more cover and where there aren’t barbarians riding around ready to attack anyone they meet.”

  They rode on for a while as Kelorn had said. They still spoke little, but were not as completely silent as before. Before the afternoon grew old they came upon a copse of cypress trees growing in a tight crook between two of the steeper hills they’d yet encountered. A tiny rivulet splashed its way between the hills and offered a source of water. Kelorn dismounted at the edge of the copse and Alirah dropped gratefully down beside him. She’d already grown so numb and sore from the day’s ride that she could hardly stand. But she made no sound of compliant, and tried to walk normally.

  “We’ll stop here for a while,” said Kelorn. “Get some rest and then go on again after nightfall.”

  On foot Kelorn led Melyr as far as he could into the trees. Alirah followed him, leading Tryll. Near the heart of the little grove they found a level spot beside the stream, where they could hunker down and be relatively concealed from anyone on the plains around. They sat down, drank from the stream, and ate a little. Their provisions consisted of dried fruits and meats, hard cheese, and carefully wrapped flatbread.

  At length Kelorn leaned back against a tree trunk, wincing as he did so. His wounds obviously still pained him, especially the slash in his thigh. Alirah had noticed he still walked with a significant limp.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said. “You look like you need it.”

  “You look like you need it too,” said Alirah. “Are you okay? Do you really think you’re well enough to travel yet?”

  “I’m okay,” he insisted. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch. We’ll ride on again after nightfall. The moon will be bright the next few nights, so we shouldn’t have any trouble finding our way.”

  Alirah shrugged and lay down on the thin bedroll she’d brought with her. She made some of her spare clothes into a pillow. For a while she lay there wide awake, listening to the wind rustling the cypress boughs and the bright, warbling song of a little bird hidden among their needles. She found it strange to be lying down to sleep while a man, and a relative stranger, was sitting awake beside her. But she’d hardly slept the night before, and was worn out both by the ride and by the emotions of the last day. Soon exhaustion overtook her, and she slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  It seemed as if she’d hardly closed her eyes when she felt a hand timidly shaking her awake. Her eyes fluttered open. She saw Kelorn staring down at her, looking abashed but determined. He withdrew his hand the instant her eyes began to open.

  “We should go on, if you’re ready,” he mumbled.

  “Oh… Okay,” she said, yawning. Looking around, she saw that night had fallen. The western rim of the sky still shone a faint, deep blue, but stars twinkled everywhere overhead. In the east the moon was rising. When she stood up she could not fully stifle a groan. The few hours of sleep had left her even more sore.

  They rode on while the night lasted. Under a perfectly clear sky the air grew very cold again. Alirah found herself shivering under her light cloak. She kept one hand tucked under her cloak as much as she could, and tried to keep Tryll headed in a straight line with the other.

  The land around them changed little as they rode. Grassy hills still rose slowly, one after another. Now and then a steeper hill or an outcropping of sandstone rock thrust up amidst the general swell of the land. Trees remained scarce, but in the creases between the hillsides, thin stands of pines grew alongside banks of gambrel oak that were twice as tall as a person. In the distance a line of higher, pine-clad hills looked like a dark splotch against the starry sky.

  The moon had set in the west and a gray, bleary light shone at the eastern edge of the sky before Kelorn called a halt. By then Alirah was more than half asleep in her saddle, but she snapped awake at the sound of his voice. He led them again into the thickest stand of trees that he could find and then flopped down onto the ground. He looked pale and in pain and utterly exhausted. St
ill, he started to suggest that she sleep again while he stayed up on watch.

  “No,” she said firmly, interrupting him. “What are you going to do, stay awake till we reach Arandia? You sleep this time.”

  He sighed heavily. “Okay. But wake me after a few hours. I don’t like the thought of you having to keep watch all alone.”

  “Why not?” she cried. “I can wake you up as easily as you can wake me. Stop treating me like I’m a little kid! You’re only six years older than I am!”

  “They’re important years,” he muttered.

  “Oh, just go to sleep, old man!”

  Kelorn grumbled something under his breath, but lay down without any further complaint. To Alirah it seemed as though less than a minute had passed before he was sound asleep and snoring softly. He lay curled on his side, with his injured leg up. In sleep his face relaxed. She felt a pang of guilt and alarm as she saw, by comparison, just how taut with pain and worry it had been while he was awake. She sighed, then smiled wanly as she gazed down at him.

  “Stop trying to protect me all the time,” she murmured aloud, in the musical language of the Kwi’Kiri. “Who’s going to protect you?”

  Alirah kept watch dutifully. Never in her life had she been more determined to stay awake and alert. Nevertheless, as the morning wore on she began to doze. Twice she caught herself napping and snapped awake with a whole-body jerk. Luckily the morning passed without incident. The only attention she and Kelorn received was from a dozen or so deer who wandered by an hour or two after dawn. One by one they paused to stare at her, as if each were pondering in turn what two humans and two horses might be doing in that isolated spot. Alirah gazed back at them, half asleep and daydreaming about venison stew.

  Around lunch time, Kelorn awoke on his own and took over the watch. Alirah slept for several hours, and they rode on again at dusk. The sun still shone as a brilliant red disk at the edge of the sky when they emerged from the clearing. Immense clouds were drifting in from the west and were now silhouetted in the red light. By the look of them and the wet smell of the air, Alirah knew they threatened rain.

  For a few hours they rode on without incident. The sun sank below the horizon. After a dim, gray hour the moon, waning but still bright, rose in the east. The storm clouds spread further across the sky. In great swaths they blotted out the stars. A wind arose slowly, from isolated and fitful little gusts to a steady, turbulent gale that flattened the grass and moaned faintly in the air overhead.

  Lightning flashed in the distance, followed after many seconds by long, low rumbles of thunder. With each flash Tryll snorted and frisked a little in agitation. Alirah kept a tight hold on her reins and murmured calmingly to the mare, hoping the lightning got no closer. One by one droplets of rain fell from the sky and stung Alirah’s face and hands, but she had the impression that the brunt of the storm was passing them by to the north.

  An hour or two before midnight, Alirah saw that the land was gathering up into a long ridge. The rise extended from southwest to northeast, and it rose higher and steeper than any of the other swells which they’d yet passed. A wood of pine trees growing upon its slopes looked like a shroud of deep shadows in the night. Kelorn rode towards the place where the forest seemed to be thickest.

  “We’ll stop and rest here for a while,” he said. “We’ll have some shelter there if it really rains, but maybe the storm will pass us by in the meantime.”

  They had just reached the first outlying trees when the storm clouds above blotted out the last few stars. The world was plunged into utter darkness. Kelorn halted for a moment, and Alirah drew up alongside him. She could hardly see her own hand in front of her face. Only once in a while, when lightning flashed in the distance, did she get a stark, backlit view of the trees around and ahead of them. Their boughs tossed in the wind and the split-second images did not offer any sense of coherency. There was no obvious way to go.

  “Well, I guess any place is as good as another in this ink,” said Kelorn after a moment.

  He urged Melyr forward once more, and Alirah followed him. But hardly had the horses taken three steps when a voice rang out in the darkness.

  “Sekhan! Sekhan, nah!”

  Kelorn jumped visibly in his saddle. Alirah choked down a scream. The voice was faint but clear: a good distance away but still close enough that the individual words could be made out. After a moment a second voice, further off, answered the first in the same language.

  Alirah and Kelorn both waited, frozen in place. Alirah heard two or three other exchanges. She heard at least three different speakers who all had the deep voices of grown men. The cries had a sharp, staccato sound wholly unlike the flowing, musical words with which she spoke her own language and which accented her speech in the common tongue. The sound made her imagine swords ringing as they struck one another in battle.

  “Do you know what they’re saying?” asked Kelorn in a whisper.

  “No,” she whispered back. “I’ve never heard that language before.”

  “Is it the Taragi?”

  “I’ve never heard it before! How should I know?” Alarm gave a high, shrill edge to her voice that she hated to hear.

  Kelorn looked at her sharply. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

  Alirah half-growled in frustration. “I’m not afraid. It’s just…”

  She was cut off. At that moment a roar of many voices erupted out of the darkness. At the same instant an orange light flared ahead. The light silhouetted the trees which grew upon the ridgeline, and shone faintly upon the low clouds above. Alirah half heard, half imagined a vast whoosh of kindling flame.

  The dim, reflected light of the fire was brilliant compared with the near blackness under which the woods had lain before. In the sudden light Tryll neighed and fidgeted, but Melyr did not stir at all. She looked at the younger mare disdainfully for a moment and then Tryll also quieted down, as if abashed. Alirah patted Tryll’s neck and murmured soothingly to her.

  Kelorn took a deep breath, and then suddenly swung down from his saddle.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “I’m going up to the top of that ridge to see what I can see. I want to know what we’re dealing with. You stay here with the horses. Try to keep them calm and quiet.”

  “No,” said Alirah at once, shaking her head.

  Kelorn looked startled. “What do you mean no?”

  “What does no usually mean? If you’re going to go have a look, then so am I.”

  Kelorn shook his head. “There could be people up there. It could be the Taragi or whoever, ready to attack anyone they find. It’s not safe!”

  “Oh, and it’s safe to wait here?”

  Kelorn scowled at her. “This isn’t a joke, Alirah. I have no idea what I’ll find up there and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Alirah dropped to the ground beside him. She glared up into his eyes, and he glared right back into hers.

  “I told you, I don’t want to see you get hurt either,” she said. “You already are hurt, by the way. If anyone ought to go sneaking up there to have a look, it should be me.” He started to protest again, so she went on quickly. “But since I’m sure you won’t go for that, we’ll go have a look together. Okay?”

  He glowered at her for a moment, then ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine. Tether your horse. Stay close behind me and make no sound.”

  The ridgeline stood only a hundred yards or so away. As soon as the two steeds were secured, Kelorn started up towards it. He limped slightly, but still managed to go quickly and fairly quietly. Behind him Alirah crept along as quiet as a mountain lion on the prowl. She had never been a hunter like Berun, but she’d spent her childhood at Berun’s side while he’d stalked his prey. She knew how to move naturally and soundlessly. Next to her the young Druid was loud and clumsy.

  For a minute or
two after their great roar, the distant voices were silent. Alirah heard nothing but the rustle of pine boughs, faraway rumbles of thunder, and her own quick heartbeat. Then all at once she heard a deep boom… boom… boom, like someone striking a big hide drum. For a few seconds the drumbeat went on by itself. Then one by one, but piling up quickly into a confused multitude, the voices arose again. This time they were not calling out to each other but simply chattering in their strange tongue. Alirah heard dozens of conversations pouring over the top of one another.

  Amidst this noise Alirah and Kelorn neared the crest of the ridge. The orange-red glow of the flames grew brighter as they approached. Smoke filled the air and made Alirah’s eyes water. As they neared the top of the hill the woods failed. Only short grass, thistles, and a few stunted shrubs grew along the actual ridgeline. Kelorn sank to his hands and knees and crawled forward awkwardly, wincing every few seconds as he strained his wounded leg. Alirah followed his lead. Together, on their bellies, they peered out from the crest.

  Beyond the ridge, the land fell much more swiftly than it had risen, in a near cliff of sandstone and loose earth. The cliff dropped down into a broad, shallow depression filled with tall grass and a scattering of pine seedlings. Beyond this low point the land seemed to rise again in a gentle, grassy slope, but Alirah could not see very far ahead. The glare of firelight shortened her view.

  A vast ring of fire roared and crackled in the night. The flames started right at the foot of the cliff, only a forty yards or so from where Alirah and Kelorn lay concealed. From there they ran off in either direction until they joined each other again, having encircled a space about a hundred yards wide. The flames were only a few feet across, but they rose high into the air and shot up sparks much further still. The longer Alirah gazed at the flames the more she felt a deep, primordial dread. The flames neither spread in the wind nor consumed the grass upon which they burned.

  A few score of horsemen had gathered within the burning ring. When Alirah saw them her heart leapt into her throat. She could only assume they were Taragi, but they were certainly the riders she had seen in her vision. They wore the same strange armor of layered hide, and the same long, curved swords hung at their sides. Many also carried short bows or light shields.

  The riders had clustered in close to the cliff. Many still sat astride their warhorses, though a few had dismounted. Two of those on foot stood off to one side, beating in turns upon the great drum. But at the center of the press of riders, and obviously at the center of everyone’s attention, stood a handful of very young men. Alirah guessed that they were within a year or two of her own age. Swords hung at their sides, but they were bare-chested. The roaring flames gleamed brightly upon their smooth, bronze skin. The flickering light accentuated physiques that were muscular but still dominated by adolescent lankiness.

  The boys stood in a semi-circle, facing the ring of fire and the cliff beyond it. Between them and the flames stood another man. He was also bare-chested, but much older, with a sharply chiseled face that now wore an expression both fierce and grim. Tattoos were scattered all over his body, though at that distance and in the harsh light they looked only like dark stains of uncertain shape. A dark cape hung back over his shoulders. In one hand he held a flaming brand of wood, while in the other he clutched a black, broad-bladed dagger.

  “What are they doing?” whispered Alirah. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” said Kelorn. He sounded just as scared as she felt.

  At that moment the caped man thrust his arms up and out. The tumult of conversation among the Taragi stopped instantly, as if every speaker had been stifled. The drummers froze mid-beat. Even the wind seemed to die away suddenly upon command. The sudden quiet was startling. Alirah felt as if she were riveted to the spot, her gaze and her mind ensnared by the caped man, whom she felt certain was some kind of priest.

  After a moment’s looming silence the priest lowered his arms. At the same time he called out in a powerful, ringing voice.

  “Taragi sah! Taragi sah! Sekhan kirik tu Geru san?”

  Nothing happened. The boys stood up straighter and looked at each other nervously, but made no other movement. Several heartbeats passed. A vague, disapproving murmur arose from the riders. At length, with a renewed thrust of his arms, the priest cried out again.

  “Sekhan kirik tu Geru san?”

  Suddenly, convulsively, one of the boys sprang forward. A vast, deep-throated cheer rose up among the riders. The boy came to a halt just before the priest. He threw back his shoulders, spread his arms out wide, and shut his eyes. A slow grin spread across the priest’s harsh face.

  Too late Alirah guessed what was going to happen. She closed her eyes and turned away, but not in time to avoid seeing the priest bring down his dagger in a powerful slash. He moved so quickly and so brutally that Alirah was certain he meant to kill the boy. She felt a nauseating shock of horror. For several seconds she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Then slowly, as if compelled, she opened first one and then the other.

  She saw the boy staggering away. The priest had not struck to kill, only to draw blood, which now dripped thickly from his dagger. As Alirah looked on another boy came forward and thrust out his chest to receive his wound. The priest struck again with terrifying force. A flinch on the boy’s part, or on the priest’s, would have turned a surface cut into a mortal wound. Alirah knew, as any onlooker would have known, that sooner or later some boy would die as that ceremony was performed. But nobody perished that night.

  One by one the youngsters came forward, and one by one a slash bloomed red across their chests. After each slash the boy would stagger backwards in shock, to be received among the Taragi warriors with hearty cheers and slaps on the back. At the same time the priest flung down his arm, so that the blood on his dagger spattered onto the ground before him.

  At last Kelorn shuddered, as if breaking free of a trance.

  “Come on,” he hissed. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here!”

  Alirah agreed wholeheartedly. She felt deeply afraid. The young Druid started to crawl away, but just before she turned to follow him the priest thrust up his arms again. Once more an awful silence fell. This time it lasted only a second. Then with a cry the priest threw his flaming brand down onto the bloody grass at his feet.

  The ground itself seemed to explode into flame. Certainly no grass, not even dead husks left after a rainless summer, could have kindled so suddenly or so intensely. Alirah thought she could feel the heat of the blaze scalding her, and she could not imagine how the Taragi weren’t all consumed at once. Every second the fire burned hotter and brighter, growing into a blue-white inferno that hurt the eye and plunged all the rest of the world into absolute darkness.

  “No!” cried Kelorn suddenly. “Look away! Don’t look at it!”

  But Alirah could not look away. Transfixed, she stared unblinking at the flames even as tears ran from her stricken eyes. She felt as if she’d been plunged into a nightmare. Her heart had been hammering frantically, but now long seconds seemed to pass between each beat. She sensed that Kelorn was saying something to her, but she could not make out his words. As the blaze intensified it shaped itself into a precise, four-pointed star. Everything else receded into blackness. She could not even see or feel her own body. She felt as if she’d become a being of pure thought or spirit, left naked and alone in the dark.

  A short, uncertain time passed, maybe seconds and maybe minutes. Then suddenly Alirah sensed that she was not alone. In the infinity of blackness around the burning star she began to sense movement. Slowly a monstrous form arose, visible only as an even darker shadow against the backdrop of night. It had a shape vaguely like that of a man, but featureless and vast in size. Two red gleams shone out of its blank face in place of eyes, and they gazed straight at her. Slowly it extended one vast hand to seize her. She tried to scream, and to flee, bu
t she had no mouth to scream with and no body with which to move...

  Abruptly the ordinary darkness of night returned. The burning star and the monster were both gone. Alirah had a body once more and she could sense Kelorn’s just beside her. She had a vague recollection of having been pushed, and found herself lying on her side upon the hard, dry earth of the ridgeline. An acrid smell that reminded her of a lightning strike filled her nostrils.

  “Alirah! Alirah? Are you okay?” The young Druid’s voice sounded low and breathless in her ears.

  “I… I can’t see…” she gasped. For a few seconds she could literally see nothing, and she felt with terror that she’d been struck blind. Then as the nightmare lifted and her thoughts cleared, she realized she could see a little, though mostly only a swirl of green after-images seared onto her vision by the star. Everything else was blurry and hopelessly dim.

  “I’m sorry!” cried Kelorn, frantically. “I didn’t realize what they were doing until it was too late. We shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t have looked at it. But we have to go now. They’re coming!”

  “What?”

  “They heard you scream.”

  “I didn’t scream. I couldn’t!”

  “You… Yes you did. And they heard you. A dozen of them at least are headed this way. Are you alright? What happened to you?”

  “I… don’t know…”

  As he spoke Kelorn rose to his feet. Alirah scrambled up wildly after him. As she moved the green stars danced about her, but the rest of the world remained dark and obscure. Even the great ring fire, which she could see a portion of as she stood up, now looked like a vague arc of dim red embers.

  “We have to get out of here, hurry!” said Kelorn. He turned to run down the hill.

  “Wait!… I can’t see,” Alirah cried, on the verge of panic. She imagined herself stumbling blindly down the hill, running into trees and bushes while the Taragi followed along at their leisure, laughing at her. But even more upsetting then her fear was a wave of shame. They’re coming because of me, she thought. He’s in danger because of me!

  Kelorn stopped instantly. “Oh… I… What should I do?”

  With an effort Alirah fought down her fear. At last she took a deep breath and thrust out her hand for him to take.

  “I can see a little, but not where to go. Just lead me and I’ll follow you.”

  “Oh… Um… Okay,” he stammered.

  But for a couple of seconds nothing happened. Alirah could see him as a murky shape, and sensed a timid movement as he started to reach for her hand and then drew back. He’s afraid to touch me, she realized with astonishment.

  Just before she could say something to reassure him, the young Druid gave a faint grunt of frustration and overcame his reluctance. Shyly, carefully, he took her hand.

  “Come on,” he murmured.

  Together they started back down the slope. Kelorn went very slowly, but at first Alirah had trouble anyway. The ground was no more than a vague blur and as it pitched more sharply downward she found it hard to place her faltering steps. More than once she recoiled from the unexpected jab of a branch, or stumbled and almost fell when her foot caught on a root or a rock. But she never actually fell. For all his timidity, Kelorn’s grip was like iron. She felt that even if she were to hurl herself at the ground she’d remain half upright, dangling from the hand that he held. Though something in his looks or his demeanor made her think constantly of a boy, underneath he was a grown man in the fullness of his strength.

  Fear goaded them on faster and faster. Though he limped badly Kelorn managed a swift pace. Luckily Alirah’s sight quickly began to return. Soon she could see well enough to avoid running into anything, though the forest remained very black. Only the glow of the Taragi ring-fire, reflected off the clouds above, gave any light to see by.

  Abruptly Kelorn came to a halt. He froze mid-stride, and stopped so quickly that Alirah ran straight into his back. Her high, startled gasp mingled with his grunt, and they tumbled to the ground in a heap.

  “Hey!” she cried. “What are you…”

  “Shhh!”

  The fear and urgency in his voice silenced her. Kelorn made no move to get up, so instinctively she held still as well. She heard quick, uneven thumps, as of horses trotting upon the dry earth. Boughs rustled and dry twigs snapped as the steeds moved through the woods. The sounds came from back up the hill and off to their left, but they were growing closer every second.

  “We have to get out of here! We have to run,” Alirah hissed, starting to rise.

  “No! There’s no time,” said Kelorn. He looked around wildly. “Over here!”

  He scrambled to his feet and lunged toward a cluster of shrubs which grew nearby. A gnarled old pine tree grew just upslope from them. There was a hollow space behind the bushes where erosion had exposed some of the tree’s roots and created an overhang. Kelorn dove for it. Despite their tumble he’d never let go of her hand, so before Alirah knew what was happening, she found herself hauled along after him.

  Plowing through the brambles left them scratched and covered in twigs, but there was just enough space behind the bushes for them to crouch down together. As the hoof beats drew closer, Kelorn flung out his dark green cloak and spread it over both of them to conceal their brighter clothes. He hung his head so that his face would not be seen. At the last moment Alirah snatched the blue ribbon out of her hair and buried her face against his shoulder.

  The hoof beats came to a halt just up the slope behind them. Alirah could hear several horses breathing hard, and could feel slight tremors in the ground as they stamped about. The riders called out a few words to each other in their sharp, staccato tongue. Then, suddenly, another rider came into view before them, down the slope. He came to a halt not fifteen yards away. He was a tall young man, clad in armor but helmetless. His face was scruffy and ruggedly handsome.

  Alirah held her breath. Seconds dragged by. She could feel Kelorn’s heart pounding in his chest. She saw his hand creep to the hilt of his sword and grip it tightly. Beneath his cloak, she reached for her own weapon with a trembling hand, but sensing the motion he shook his head slightly and mouthed an urgent No! She pulled her hand back, surprised.

  In the daylight they would have been seen at once. The bushes were not thick enough to conceal them completely. But in the aftermath of the horrible star, the night was almost as dim for the Taragi as it was for Alirah. The rider down slope looked around with a fierce, predatory gaze; but he did not see them. At last his comrades called out to him, and he made a quick, negative reply. Then both he and they turned their horses and rode back the way the way they’d come.

  For many minutes Alirah and Kelorn sat still, hardly daring to breathe, afraid any little noise would bring the Taragi galloping right back. But finally the sounds of the horses dwindled to nothing. At the same time the dim, ruddy glare of the ring-fire died away. The storm clouds overhead began to recede into the east. Big swaths of starlit sky opened up again, and at last the fearful, menacing darkness of the ritual gave way to the gentler shadows of ordinary night.