The Mountains Rise

  Daniel refused to be put off. “If you can feel the same emotions as any normal human, then it isn’t something you can’t have. You could form friendships. Good friends are a type of family.”

  “None of my people are interested in such things,” she said flatly.

  And clearly you never considered the possibility of being friends with an animal, he thought to himself.

  They stared at each other in silence, mulling their respective thoughts. Her candor and lack of fear were refreshing for Daniel. Unlike the people of Ellentrea, who found direct eye contact to be a challenge, threat, or an attempt at domination, Lyralliantha was perfectly willing to meet his eyes. Sometimes it made him feel as if he might fall into them, swallowed by the icy blue that so perfectly reflected the calm soul that lay within her.

  “So, did you get permission to send me beyond the grove?” he said, breaking the stillness.

  She stood and looked away, “That depends on you. They will allow it, but there is a condition.”

  He shrugged, “I would accept almost anything.” That was simple truth. After five years, he felt he would suffer almost anything for even a minute with his mother and father, or a chance to talk to Kate again.

  “Listen before you accept!” she snapped angrily. It was an uncharacteristic display of emotion for the She’Har woman. “This condition will mean your death.”

  Daniel didn’t even pause, “That’s fine, so long as I can see them first.”

  “For having made so much of human bonds, you seem eager to cast them aside,” she remarked.

  “Life without contact, without love, is meaningless. I would rather live for a brief time and then die, than to go on forever with no hope,” he responded.

  She watched his face thoughtfully, her aura flickering with subtle emotions, “Is there no hope for you here?”

  “No.”

  Lyralliantha sighed, and something approaching frustration passed across her features. “The elders have found new inspiration in the shuthsi that you won for us these past years. Despite their objections, they have begun to hope that you would continue fighting. My decision to remove you and make you a warden was a disappointment to them.”

  “So much for their high moral ground,” observed Daniel sarcastically.

  “They felt that since you came to us voluntarily and had already suffered in the arena, that perhaps it was acceptable to continue. Now they want to know if you will return to the arena again. In exchange they will allow you a week to visit your village.”

  Daniel laughed, “That’s hardly death, Lyralliantha. Do you realize how many times I have fought in the arena already, how many I have killed? One more fight is nothing to me.”

  “Four hundred and seventy-three,” she replied instantly.

  “What?”

  “That is how many you have killed in the arena,” she explained.

  He was stunned, “I thought you never went to see the matches…”

  “I didn’t,” she responded, “but I kept count. Their deaths have stained the Illeniel Grove’s stance against unnecessary brutality, and at the same time earned us much shuthsi. This match will not be like those, however. You will fight an opponent you cannot win against.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his heart rate pick up. His years in the arena had made him an addict, and only now he realized that he had begun to miss the thrill of coming so close to death. I’m not normal anymore; the thought of blood excites me. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “They will pit you against one of the Krytek,” she replied.

  There was a word Daniel hadn’t heard before. He gave her a blank look to convey the breadth of his knowledge.

  “They are the guardians of the She’Har, the sterile fruits of the father-trees. They live but a few months and can be grown in many shapes or sizes,” she said, elaborating for his benefit.

  “So they’re some sort of monster soldiers?”

  “Your description is apt. If you accept, they will probably craft one especially for you.”

  “Can they spellweave, like you?” he asked, intrigued by the notion.

  She nodded, “Some can. Certainly any whom they put you against would be able to do so; otherwise the match would be no contest.”

  “You haven’t forgotten Syllerond, have you?”

  “In the days when the children fought as the baratti now do, that would have been more meaningful, but Syllerond had never fought before, nor have any other of our children who live today. The Krytek are different.”

  Daniel frowned, “If they only live for a few months, how do they train them to fight?”

  “They are born with the knowledge and skills required for battle. The father-tree can imbue them with as much of his own knowledge and past experience at battle as he thinks they need,” she told him.

  “But none of you have fought since you defeated my kind,” countered Daniel.

  “The elders who grow here now, fought in that war. Some of them came from the old world before taking root here. The knowledge of the loshti goes back to the world before the old world. The Krytek they place you against will know how to fight, Tyrion. You will not survive.” Her words held cold certainty, as if there were a knife already against his throat.

  Daniel had already made his choice. He knew he would accept the challenge, whether winning was impossible or not. Still, he didn’t intend to give up without a fight. “Will I be allowed my clothes, or a weapon?” he asked hopefully.

  “Will it matter?”

  “I’d rather not die naked if I have a choice,” he said with a grimace, but that wasn’t his real reason.

  “I doubt they will have any objection to whatever you wish to wear or use,” she admitted. “It will not affect the outcome.”

  “Hmm,” Daniel grunted. “Why this? Do they want a way to punish me?”

  “No, Tyrion,” she answered, shaking her head. “The other groves have offered the Illeniel Grove a prize of shuthsi to agree to this, win or lose. The Illeniel Grove will gain much, even if you lose.”

  “And if I win?”

  Her lips turned down slightly at the edges, and the muscles around her eyes tensed. There was concern in her face. “You will not win.”

  “But if I did?” pressed Daniel.

  “We will receive twice as much, but it does not matter…”

  He laughed, “Of course it matters.” Then he reconsidered, trying to understand Lyralliantha’s reluctance. “Are you worried about me?”

  She flinched, as if he had slapped her. “I have come to understand the wisdom of my Grove’s decision regarding the baratti. Forcing you to fight is beneath us. It is an evil.”

  Daniel leaned closer, a predatory instinct rising within him. He could sense her resolve faltering. Lyralliantha was vulnerable. “What if I wanted to fight? What if I enjoyed it? As Thillmarius once told you. If that were true, if death were no concern to me, would it still bother you?”

  She did not look away, though his face was mere inches from her own. He could smell the sweetness of her warm breath as she started to answer, her lower lip trembling imperceptibly. “It would still be wrong.”

  “Wrong in the greater sense, or wrong because it would hurt you?” he said, pushing to the heart of the matter. Her lips served as a crimson counterpoint to the cerulean blue of her eyes. He could feel an almost physical draw toward her. Was she moving closer?

  Searching his face, she didn’t reply as the moment stretched out, and then she closed her eyes. It was a signal that no man could ignore, and Daniel felt the wolf rise within him, the male spirit that he had learned was an integral part of his psyche. Kiss her, take her, it roared.

  “You are a rapist.”

  Flinching at the sudden remembrance of her words, he drew back. Not anymore, never again. He had come to decide that she was right, he could do nothing to fix the past and shame was wasteful. He could only control the present. I have been a victim, both of others and of my own desires and weakne
ss, but no longer. Henceforth I will take only what I truly desire, and when I do, I will not apologize.

  Daniel moved further away, and he saw a change in her aura as it flickered from arousal to something akin to annoyance. She was testing me, he surmised. Lyralliantha’s lips parted, as if to answer his question, but he stopped her, “I’ve made up my mind. If you will allow it, I will take their offer. Let me see my family, my people, and I will return to face whatever opponent they wish to put against me.”

  She looked unhappy with his resolve, “And if I refuse?”

  “You will regret it.”

  “Is that a threat, Tyrion?”

  He shook his head, “No, but if you truly care about the suffering of others, you’ll let me go. Keep me here and I will wither. Let me see them. I would rather return, vital and alive, to face a swift death, than to live in slow decay.”

  Her visage hardened, “Very well, it shall be as you wish. I will remove all the restrictions on your collar for a full week. A horse will be waiting for you in the morning.”

  With that pronouncement she left, radiating a coolness that made Daniel curious. He pushed it aside, though, in favor of looking to the future. Would he dare to see Kate? What would his parents say when they saw him alive? Would the people of Colne curse him for what he had done?

  Chapter 36

  “Daddy, why is he so stupid?” Moira asked me.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that, “In what regard?”

  “It’s obvious she likes him, but now he’s going to go back to see the other girl. If he had stayed with her in the beginning this wouldn’t have happened, and now, if he would just stay with Lyra then he wouldn’t have to fight. They could be happy,” my daughter explained.

  Lynarralla spoke up, “Why do you say that it is obvious that she likes him?”

  Moira looked at her, “You can tell by the way she’s acting. For one thing, she says she doesn’t want to cause him cruelty, but she does more than that. She visits more than she has to, she keeps looking at him. All the clues are there, in the story.”

  The She’Har girl laughed, “I think you do not understand my people.”

  Moira smirked in return, “I think you don’t understand your human self.”

  I decided to interrupt while their disagreement was still friendly, “I’m afraid in this case, Lynarralla, my daughter is correct. She was harboring some feelings for him, but she didn’t understand them any better than he did.”

  “Would understanding such irrational feelings have helped them?” asked the daughter of Lyralliantha and Tyrion Illeniel.

  “I think so. He would later regard that moment as a colossal mistake. If he had remained, he might have lived peacefully there for the rest of his days, but by accepting the deal her elders offered him, he continued the cascade of events that eventually led him to genocide,” I told her.

  Matthew broke in, “But if all that hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be here today.”

  I nodded, “That’s true also. The remaining free population was dwindling. By now humankind would have gone extinct, except for the slaves whom they bred.”

  “I don’t like this story,” said Moira.

  “You aren’t alone,” I told her, “but there is beauty even in tragedy and lessons to be learned from such extremes. Let me continue…”

  ***

  Daniel rose early the next morning, a feeling of anticipation robbing him of his ability to sleep. True to her word, a horse had been brought for him. Garlin appeared and led him down to see it.

  The warden spoke quietly in the early morning light, “This is a good horse. Don’t even think about running off with her.”

  The mare or the girl I left behind? Daniel knew he meant the horse, though. “I will be back,” he told the other man.

  “They can set limitations on your collar, even from across great distances,” said Garlin. “If they decide that you’ve been gone too long, they can reset it and you’ll die, no matter what. Don’t forget that.”

  “I said I’ll return,” huffed Daniel. “No need to keep warning me.”

  The older warden looked him over carefully. “Many have tried it in the past. They all died. Why are you taking that?” He pointed at Daniel’s cittern.

  “I can’t leave it. It’s dearer to me than my life.”

  Garlin grunted, “Just remember your purpose, don’t get distracted by music and daydreams.”

  “What purpose?” asked Daniel, suddenly confused.

  The warden gave him a serious look, “They should have explained it to you. You ride, you examine, and you keep your senses open. If you detect someone with talent, you kill them. No explanations, no excuses, just kill them and move on.”

  Is this what they normally tell wardens? Apparently they hadn’t told Garlin the reason for Daniel’s trip. He decided it was better to leave it alone.

  An hour later he was making his way through the massive trees, riding back in a direction that he hadn’t been in over five years. He had first ridden into the deep woods seeking punishment, and an end to his misdeeds. He had thought the forest was inhabited by gods who would show him the way to atone for his sins, and he had believed it would require his death.

  Now five years later, he was riding in the other direction. He no longer feared the wardens, he was one. He no longer believed in the forest gods, or atonement. He was a slave to a race from another world. Forgiveness was not his goal these days, merely acceptance, and maybe a proper farewell.

  Death had been his frequent companion for years, and if Lyralliantha was to be believed, it would finally come for him when he returned, but his thoughts refused to dwell on that.

  He carried several days’ worth of food in his saddlebags and a wooden sword at his side. The leather armor he wore now fit him perfectly. His body had filled out over the years, even with the bland food that he had received in Ellentrea.

  The journey home was little more than half a day, but he was prepared to camp for most of the week if necessary. There was no telling what sort of reception he would find. He worried that his parents might no longer be there, having moved or fallen victim to some illness.

  He had no way of knowing.

  The house was still there, sitting small and quiet on the hillside, a tiny wisp of smoke exiting the small chimney on the east end. The barn looked as though it needed some work, and the yard in front hadn’t been swept in some time. That might have been because of his absence, though; two people would find more work without their son there to assist them.

  His magesight had already found his mother within the house, tending a small pot in the kitchen. He knocked on the door to get her attention.

  Unexpected visitors were rare in the hills outside of Colne, so she was slow to respond, and when she did, she did not immediately open the door. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s your son,” said Daniel, not knowing what else to answer.

  The door flew open, and a very angry woman stood in the doorway. “Do you think I take kindly to such jokes?!”

  Helen Tennick was older than he remembered. Her hair was more gray than brown now, and the lines under her eyes seemed to have been etched there. Daniel remembered his mother as the most beautiful woman in the world, aside from Kate perhaps, but she had aged far beyond that memory. He was taken aback by the sight of her and failed to answer her.

  Her eyes took in his appearance and found their own answer, fear finding a home in them. She registered his leathers and the sword at his hip and it was only then that he appreciated what he must look like to her.

  He stood almost six feet in height, with broad shoulders and the powerful musculature of a grown man. He was wider than his father had been, with a square jaw and a wild beard. His hair had grown long, reaching past his shoulders and complementing his facial hair.

  In short, he looked like a trapper or hunter who had been in the wilderness for years, but his clothing and equipment named him as a warden. There was good cause for the fear
he saw reflected in her eyes.

  “What do you want?” she said, finding her voice before he did.

  “Mother, it’s me, Daniel. I’ve come back. I know I look different now, but it’s really me,” he told her, hoping his words would reach her.

  Anger replaced her fear for a moment, and she stared up at him, “I don’t know what you think…” Her voice trailed away as her eyes locked on his. Recognition dawned upon her, and she stepped back a moment. “Daniel? Is that really you?”

  The plaintive sound in her voice made his heart ache.

  “It’s really me,” he reassured her.

  Helen’s hands fumbled at the front of his leathers as she sought to pull him in. Catching them, he pulled her into a hug before walking with her into the house. She never let go, they walked together, like some awkward four legged beast.

  “We thought you were dead,” she cried into his chest, trying to release the tension and grief that had been buried within her. “Daniel, what happened to you? Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m a warden now, Mother,” he answered. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything, but it will take some time. Where’s Dad?”

  That started her crying again, “He’s out in the hills, with the sheep. He’ll be so glad. You don’t know what losing you has done to him. We have to tell him now, this can’t wait all day.” Helen was almost incoherent, her words slurred with tears and relief. “Let me go find him.”

  Daniel held her tightly, “No Mom, I’ll go. Don’t fret over it. You probably need to watch the pot.” His face was wet.

  “To hell with the pot!” she exclaimed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Pulling away, she took only seconds to take the stewpot off the fire, and then she had her arms around him again. “Oh, my little boy, I’ve missed you so much. I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Together they walked side by side, to find his father, Alan. Daniel couldn’t help but wonder at how small his mother seemed now, her shoulder easily fitting beneath his arm. Was she always so tiny?