1
She was homeless. She had no family and no home. All she had were memories that continually flooded her mind and the clothes she wore. Raiders had come and burned her house and killed her parents. Her village, Pizora, was no more. Once, this ash-covered grave had been a beautiful country village in the valley of Pizora. Tall weeping willows grew on either side of the dirt road that wove and curved for miles. Cherry trees grew in every front yard, possibly the oldest trees in Toran. They had inspired the name, Pizora, meaning 'cherry blossoms' in the First Language, the language known to all. A language not learned, but known, a language not known to the evil. The First Language comes from Elshadi, evil is neither able to understand nor speak it. The trees had spoken the First Language so beautifully. Now they were gone. Through the charred skeleton trees you could almost see the tree people inside the burned trunk. Their eyes closed, their mouths open. Horror distorting their faces.
Tamél’s home had been the most beautiful in Pizora. Tamél's father, Mylone, had been the chosen leader of the village of Pizora. They'd had a home in the center of the town with a beautiful pathway that led from the road to their front steps with all manner of flowers along either side of it. At the end of the walkway at either end and on either side were the cherry trees. Now, the only things left of the town were the ashes, the charred trees, and the dirt road. The dirt pathway slithered up to her house like a snake. But her house was no longer a house, it was just a heap of charred timber and ashes. She had so often lingered upon that path when coming home from her daily work. She worked for a man's elderly mother in another village. She hated this job, but the lady’s son paid her family well for it. Tamél hated having to walk seven miles both ways to care for an old lady, especially this old lady. Ms. Huhus was her name. She was a widow, by her own fault, Tamél thought. Old lady Huhus had probably killed her husband with a well aimed flower vase to the head. She threw flower filled vases at Tamél all the time, and when she did, she spewed the foulest language Tamél had ever heard. Unfortunately, Tamél thought, even though she'd heard a messenger say raiders had burned old lady Huhus’ village as well, killing her son, Ms. Huhus house was the only one still standing. Tamél didn’t know why. She probably threw a flower vase or the next best ammunition, large cooking pots, at them when they had come with in a hundred feet of her home.
On the third day after the raid, a man came to Tamél's village with a group of five girls. The few who had survived the raid had fled and Tamél was the only one left in the village, she’d refused to go when the villagers told her they were leaving and now she just sat and alternated between staring into the distance and crying so hard her head hurt.
The man approached her, leaving the girls in the street. “Hello Miss, ma name’s Brutus. I’m a takin these here gals down to tha orphanage in Tora. Tamél ignored him. “Miss?” He questioned. His southern accent scrapped at her nerves. “Miss, are you aw right?”
“No.” This was the first and last thing Tamél hoped to say to this man. There was something wrong about him, but she hurt too much from her grief and from sitting on the ground for three days to pay much attention to the feeling.
“Come on,” Brutus drawled, trying to sound kind, but not really succeeding.
“You’re comin’ wi me.” He grabbed the girl’s arm and tried to drag her up. She didn’t budge. He tried again. Nothing. Finally he knelt down, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her up over his shoulder, but even that was difficult with the strength that the girl fought against him, which was astonishing for a girl of her size. Especially one who hadn't eaten or even moved in days.
With Tamél over his shoulder, he walked back to the girls who Tamél now saw, each carried a huge pack. Brutus set her down. “Heey, lookie here, you can carry my pack!” He laughed. All the big lug was carrying was his stupid grin. Tamél saw one girl, who, though she looked about fourteen in her features, looked eight in her frame, carrying a pack larger than she herself.
After Brutus had finished searching the ruins of the village for any other people or goods that had survived the fire, they went on their way to the orphanage. Tamél noticed that they were going east. The orphanage was west. But she didn’t care. Her family was gone, and all the people she knew and cared about. She was homeless and an orphan. Nobody cared about her, and she cared for nobody, though, the small girl with the large pack held something vaguely interesting about her. But what did that matter. She'd just die from grief soon enough.
_____
That night, Tamél found that while Brutus had a huge tent all to himself, the six girls had to share one small tent. They were so crammed together that a couple of the girls had to sleep lengthwise across another’s feet. Tamél ended up right next to the tiny girl and neither of them had anyone lying on their feet. “What’s your name?” the girl asked sleepily.
“Tamél.” She sat up on her elbows, hoping for a conversation. She was a little less grief-striken now, and she was bored to tears. Brutus hadn't let them speak a word on the journey.
“I’m Sona, I know, I look like I’m ten or something of the sort but, I’m not. I am sixteen, so don’t feel sorry for the child that I appear to be.” Sona murmured. She seemed to be confident despite her size and seemed used to giving this little speech.
Tamél was surprised at this unusual answer. “Where do you come from?” She asked.
Silence.
“Son-.” Tamél was interrupted by a small snore from Sona. Tamél lay down again. “Good night,” she whispered into the darkness. Then, she was suddenly no longer bored, but exhausted. She too was soon asleep.
_____
2
They had been camped at this spot in the middle of the woods where there happened to be a clearing, for over three days. Guessing by the way Brutus knew his way around, Tamel assumed he came through these parts often. Usually, the most they stayed in one spot was one day, often less. On about the second or third night, Tamél burned the horrible stew that they were having yet again; and Brutus threatened her. Again. This time she could tell that he meant it, she could hear only annoyance in his voice before, but this time she heard sincerity. While he was in one of his quieter spells of his lecture on burning stew, the lecture that only she got, Tamél heard soft footsteps stop outside the tent. Tamél had always had a knack for knowing who was nearby just by their sound or smell. She didn’t know this person’s sound. The footsteps sounded heavier than any of the girls and Brutus was stitting in front of her. But before she could decipher anything else Brutus raised his voice again, he was getting annoyed, she obviously wasn’t listening to him, but he was too stupid to think that there could be something intriguing her more than his tedious speech.
When he’d finished his lecture, Tamél left. She plodded up to the stew pot that Sheila was now attending. She dipped out a bowl for Brutus and thanked Sheila. As she was walking toward the tent she was engrossed in trying to figure out who the intruder had been. Why had he stopped outside Brutus’ tent? Why not the girls tent instead? He certainly could have persuaded one or all of the girls to go with him, if for no other reason than to get away from Brutus. Suddenly, Tamél saw a shadow move outside Brutus’ tent. The shadow of a human. Only, it wasn’t human. It flicked in and out of existence like the spiral of smoke that had come from Ms. Huhus’ chimney. Suddenly, the thing turned toward her. Tamél jumped, splashing stew all over her already grimy clothing. The red eyes turned on her showed a look of surprise, then fury. Tamél saw past the outward expressions to the evil that was strongly alive inside the thing. Then, it was gone.
That night, after Tamél finally got away from Brutus and that stupid soup, she lay in her spot next to Sona who was snoring peacefully. Tamél’s thoughts kept flickering from the thing outside Brutus’ tent to Brutus. Tamél felt that, in spite of his promises, and his at first relatively positive appearance, Brutus was evil. She was sure that if something miraculous didn’t happen soon, all the girls would come to live in the company of Brutus and other men like him, or worse than him if that were possible, for the rest of their lives. That was not an appealing thought to Tamél. She finally let go of the shield she'd been protecting her mind with and let herself see the full meaning of things, the way she had before the raid and Brutus and all that her life now consisted of. She saw as plain as day that Brutus was taking them to be sold. The truth of this was so obvious that the revelation shocked Tamél to a sitting position. Jerking herself out of her half doze as well as the peaceful slumber Sona had been in.
“What, what is it?” Sona murmured drowsily.
“Sona, I figured it out!”
“Figured what out?” Sona yawned.
“We’re not going to the orphanage! Brutus is going to sell us!”
Sona gaped at her, completely awake now. “How did you know?” she asked.
“Because the orphanage is only ten days walk from my village, and in the opposite direction!”
“Elshadai sashiina.” Sona breathed in the first Language. Elshadi save us.
“I knew it all along and I ignored it!” As she exclaimed this, Tamél burst into tears.
“It’s not your fault.” Sona tried to comfort. She stroked Tamél’s hair.
“Well then whose is it?” Tamél asked harshly. “I knew all along, I had… that feeling, and I didn’t pay any attention to it!” Tamél cried harder. She thought of all the things she could’ve prevented if she’d only let herself truly see. She thought of Sona and all the girls, she thought of Brutus and the soup she’d burned. She was falling apart, the combination of the immense stress and the self-inflicted stupidity had broken her.
“It is my fault if it's anyone's.” said Sona. “I knew all along. I was surprised when you figured it out. But you are smart. There's nothing we can do. How would we get away from Brutus anyway?”
“There are far more of us than of him. We could– what was that?” Tamél interrupted herself abruptly. Sona looked at her, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“I heard something, outside the tent.” Tamél got up slowly. Crunch. She stopped, than she looked at Sona, her eyes were the size of the bowls that they ate that horrid stew out of every night, she had heard it this time. Tamél stood the rest of the way up, slowly, silently. “Don’t go out there!” Sona hissed at Tamél. Tamél just shook her head and held her hand out to Sona, warning her to stay where she was. Then, she leaped out of the tent, prepared for anything. Only she didn’t jump quite high enough and her foot hit Jasmine, who had slept at the entrance of the tent every night since they stopped. Tamél was knocked off balance, causing her to roll rather awkwardly out of the tent rather than gracefully leaping out of it. Unfortunately, Jasmine shrieked as Tamél hit her, Tamél rolled quietly enough that the person outside would never have heard her, but the scream caused him to turn toward the tent opening. Therefore, Tamél rolled silently, but completely noticed, out onto the cool ground of the forest. She rolled past him and jumped to her feet. She swayed. All the rolling had made her excruciatingly dizzy. The intruder ran toward her, sword drawn. She step swayed out of the way, but it wasn’t enough, the sword plunged into her shoulder causing blood to gush down her right side. The pain jolted her into action, her intolerance for pain had aroused an anger; she’d always hated being hurt, even a little. She spun on the intruder. He was running at her, his sword headed straight for her heart. Lucky aim. She thought. No one could see in this pitch darkness. Excluding Tamél, of course, given the fact that she had her father's elven blood, which gave her the night vision of a cat. Cutting her thoughts short, Tamél went into action. As she attacked, the person before her transformed. The average six foot three male changed into a seven foot five black, furry, red-eyed monster with claws that looked like the birthplace of every bacteria known to healers. What th- Tamél thought? Her shock had caused her to freeze, loosing a perfect opportunity to run the heinous monster through. GRAAA! The thing roared at her. Then it picked up its sword from where Tamél had knocked it when she attacked the thing. The sword had also changed, becoming double edged and about a foot longer. Then, the monster charged.
_____
“The left side!” Sona yelled. So, without thinking, Tamél sliced at the arm with the sword pointed at her heart. The girls could see everything happening due to the little oil lamp that was in Sona’s hand that was always kept in their tent. Sona handed the lamp to Lanae and stepped out of the tent. “The other left!” Sona yelled at Tamél. What? She thought. The arm that had had the sword was the right arm. The left arm was pinned to the side of the thing as if from a birth defect, but it wasn’t doing any harm. Whatever. She snatched the sword from the place the monster had dropped it, and thrust it into the left side of the monster. The thing charged her. This time Tamél wasn’t ready. She’d been expecting something to happen, like the thing would fall down, clutching its bloody wound or something that would give her an advantage over it. Tamél screamed as the thing flew into her. That made her very mad! When Tamél got mad, things could get dangerous. Seriously. “Shinasasio.” She whispered the word that supposedly gave the warriors of old power over their enemies, then, Swiiisssh...THUNK. Her fist flew through the air and punched the thing in the face. The blow would have generally knocked a normal being off her and on to its back. Only nothing happened. Her fist went straight through its laughing face. “You think you can defeat me?” The deep, gravelly voice of the thing startled Tamél only a little. She fought under the weight of the thing. Even though it seemed to be vapor, it was as heavy as a house. “No, she can’t.” A familiar voice rang out. Sona? The thing spun around, Tamél looked passed it. Sona was standing there just the way Salna did while teaching Tamél's sparring lessons; in a perfectly positioned fencing stance. “Sona?” Tamél asked confusedly.
“Get away, Tamél.” She waved the sword toward Tamél.
“Sonaaaa. You are the one I’m here for. You are wanted by Lubboc.”
Wsss. The sword whistled past Tamél and sliced down the length of the side on the left, severing a slab of meat that should have been its left arm, from the monster’s body. The thing stared at Sona, an expression of shock on its face. “Right.” Sona answered sarcastically to the statement, as though the thing was wasting its time even talking to her. Then she threw the sword through the stomach of the shurgan and walked to Tamél. The sword stuck in the earth behind the monster, or at least, it would have if the monster had been there.
3
“Is it dead?” Tamél asked, still rather in shock from what she’d just seen.
“Unfortunately, no,” Sona replied, sitting down next to Tamél. “Shurgans don’t die. Once they are disintegrated, what just happened to this one, their spirit returns to the castle of the shurgan king, Lubboc. They remain there until the downfall of their kingdom. They aren't permitted to leave.”
“How did you know how to kill it, or disintegrate it? And why did Lubboc want you?”
Sona’s triumphant expression disappeared instantaneously. “Because,” she explained, “I’m a very important person to Toran.” Tamél looked at her warily. “It’s true.” Sona said softly, “Part of the sword training I receive is the secret to killing a shurgan. Shurgans have a thing for killing significant people of Toran. They are dangerous, but there aren't enough of them who are able to leave Lubboc's castle for them to form an attack.”
“H-h-how did you get kidnapped by Brutus?” Tamél stuttered, a result of adrenaline and extreme surprise. “Isn't the Toranian royalty always surrounded by guards, night and day?”
“I never said I was royal.” she was quick to defend that, which made Tamél suspicious. “But yes, I was out with a single guard in the forest when Brutus snuck up behind him. He knocked out the guard, and then took me with him.” Sona finished.
They talked for a while longer, but then, because of her wound and the sudden fear and need to defend herself, Tamél passed out.
_____
Yaaawn! Tamél stretched in the warm afternoon air. Wait! She thought. Afternoon?! Usually Brutus got them all up at the crack of dawn so that they could bathe him, which repulsed them all to the furthest extent. But she had not been rudely awakened by a sharp snap of a whip against her rear end. She had slept through the morning until the afternoon! But why was she in a tent by herself? Something was wrong. But before she could think any farther, Tamél heard a voice outside of a man. Other than Brutus. She quickly squinted her eyes into the position that said she was asleep but still allowed her to see. A tall, handsome, muscular man with a kind face ducked into the tent. He walked toward her. His dark hair was wavy and reached his jaw-line. He had eyes that were a black-violet color. She tensed her body. Closer. Closer. There! Tamél hesitated only a second, and only because of the kindness in his face. But she’d been fooled by that before and wasn’t going to be fooled again. Her left foot flew out from under the single blanket that she’d been covered with and hit the man in the jaw. He yelled in surprised and pain as he fell over backwards. She jumped up, knocked the intruder back, and pinned him to the floor. After she did, she bit back a shriek and fell backwards. Fire was shooting through her arm. The man staggered up with his hand at the side of his face and spit blood onto the dirt. He made his way cautiously over to Tamél’s side, cautious of another blow. She was holding her arm, gritting her teeth against the pain. He sat down on the floor next to her. He reached behind her and grabbed the blanket off of the cot. “The wound had scabbed, but was not strong enough for a trick like that.” he said with a straight face, but she thought he was joking. He pulled her hand away from her shoulder. Blood soaked her shirt and covered her hand. Her teeth gritted with pain. He took the blanket and ripped it into strips. He wrapped it tightly around the deep gash. He whispered a few inaudible syllables, then the pressure against her shoulder grew and it hurt for an instant. But then it faded and actually felt much better. She no longer felt suspicious of this man. In fact, she felt rather comfortable around him.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“Forgive me,” he said, “my name is Arram, and you are?”
“Tamél. Where did you come from?”
“Come look outside. I think, what you’ll see will explain it for you.”
They walked outside and the sight that Tamél saw stopped her cold. Surrounding the camp was an army dressed the same as Arram. The warriors were tall and slender, but solid. Their hair was long, longer than Arram's, and most of them were blond, some even to point where their head looked white.
On the edge of the camp, Brutus was tied to a tree, guarded by several warriors with spears. He was screaming curses at the seemingly deaf guards, but as she watched, the guard on Brutus’ left suddenly broke his stolidity. He spun around and held the point of his sword against Brutus’ throat. They didn’t hear a peep out of him for a long while after that.
Looking around at the other warriors that surrounded the small clearing, Tamél saw that there were so many warriors that they had formed rings around the camp, the ones she could see clearly were those in front who were standing shoulder to shoulder. “Well?” Tamél spun free of her thoughts and looked at Arram. “Well, do you know who I am now?”
“Uhh, a commander?” she answered brilliantly. In her defense, she'd had a rough night.
“A commander of what?”
“Of…an army?” Again she looked at Arram and seeing the exasperated expression on his face, she got annoyed. When annoyed, Tamél was completely herself, not always a good thing. “Look commander-of-an-army Arram, I am not playing guessing games with you. Tell me who you are and what you have done with Sona and the other girls or else the injury you received in the tent will be made much more severe!” As she said this, she pulled her right fist back, prepared to strike, hard.
Arram calmly gripped her fists as he started, “I have known you since you first visited Salna.”
“What in th-,” Tamél interrupted. She quit trying to fight his grasp, but stayed tense, ready to fight. Or run. Whichever was called for.
Arram stopped her. “Let me finish.”
Tamél’s expression now, was one of disdain. She pulled free and crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the large oak behind her and glared at Arram. He started again, “I’ve known you since you first visited Salna. She’s my aunt.”
Tamél stared at him, contempt clearly visible on her face. But she didn’t say anything.
“I was visiting her and was just coming back from collecting some type of root for her special medicines that she sells in the town, when I heard you come up. I hid behind an oak and watched you with Salna. I was supposed to stay with her until the next moon for training in healing, but one night, I went to meet one of my spies. When I returned, she had disappeared. I have been near you ever since, following you wherever you went. She had bound me with a promise, one to watch over you and prevent the evil she saw coming for, from getting to you. I was there when your house burned and when Brutus took you. I am elven.”
This last revelation made Tamél burst out laughing. Arram knew why. He whispered, “Pargal sorshi.” As he did the extremeties that Tamél had been laughing at changed. His ears became pointed, and not just slightly, they took on a full change. As did, Tamél saw later, had the other warriors. She stopped laughing, and wondered. If all of them are elven and their ears changed why wouldn’t mine. Her hands flew to her ears. Her pointer fingers touched her ear lobes and ran up the edge of her ears. Curve. Dip. Straight up. Over. Straight down. “Elshadai.” She whispered the prayer. Again, she looked at Arram. He smirked. “As are you I see.”
_____
4
After she’d recovered from her initial shock Tamél said, “Ok. Fine. You know my secret; but where are the girls?” She shook her hair over her ears, hiding them. Arram strode forward, heading for a group of warriors near the opposite end of the clearing. She followed. As they neared the group, Tamél could see that the warriors were surrounding a huge tent.
When they got to the tent Arram stopped outside as Tamél went in. “Tamél!” This greeting wasn’t very surprising to Tamél, but the surroundings were astonishing. The girls each had their own bed and new clothing that looked a lot like spider silk, the most expensive fabric in Toran. Someone was missing though. “Where’s Sona?” Tamél asked suspiciously.
“Don’t know.” Chimed Jasmine. She looked more vibrant that Tamél would have thought possible. “She hasn’t been around since they arrived.” She gestured to the tent flap, outside of which the warriors were still standing guard. “Did you see Brutus?” she giggled.
Tamél nodded absently. “I have to go.” She said abruptly. She turned and ran out of the tent, nearly body-slamming Arram. “Where’s Sona?” She growled at Arram as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of hearing range of the tent and the guards surrounding it. “I’m done with these games. Tell me where Sona is!”
Gently, but firmly, Arram reached down and removed her hand from his arm. Then,
with a solemn look, Arram pulled a small, folded piece of paper from under the shoulder of his shirt. “From Sona.” Arram stated simply as he handed it to her. Tamél snatched it murmuring, “How in Toran would Sona get paper.” Paper was a luxury reserved only for royalty or the very rich. She carefully opened the note and started to read silently to herself:
Dear Tammy,
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you sooner about who I really am. With Brutus and the girls always around, I never felt safe enough to tell you. I am the Princess of Toran.
I want you to know that I’m leaving for only two reasons:
a) I know of Arram and his elves (I asked him to tell you that he was elven before he gave you this note) and I know that you will be safer in their city than anywhere else, so my worries are not with you.
b) To notify the Royal Guard that I am safe and to tell them that the Toran renowned criminal, Brutus, is in the Hasnongome forest. Also, to arrange the adoption of the girls as my sisters. I will not request your adoption because I know you well enough to know that you would resent me for the rest of time if I tried to make you stay in one place. Please do not tell the girls of this plan because it will take an indefinite period of time and I don’t want them thinking that I changed my mind.
I will see you again.
Sona
Tamél slowly folded the letter. “Why?” she asked Arram who was standing a little ways away. He walked over and by the expression on his face, Tamél guessed that either Sona had told him what was in the letter, or he had read it for himself. “I mean, she’s probably right. About the being “royal”part, but still, I’d like to be her sister.” Tamél stared at the letter in her hands. “I think,” Arram’s strong, warm voice said softly. “That she is your sister.” Tamél stared at him as if his pointed ears had just become horns. Smiling gently, he went on. “You and she both believe that Elshadi’s the savior of all Iniere. Those who believe that are a part of the same family. Elshadi’s family.”
Tamél had never thought of this in quite that way.
“Are you apart of that family?” She asked, tentatively.
“Yes.”
This to-the-point answer reassured Tamél. She didn’t know why. She looked up at Arram; he was staring at her, in a funny way. Tamél couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m hungry,” she murmured as she stared into her hands. “Where can I get something to eat?”
“Oh, of course.” Arram mumbled back, breaking his gaze with a jerk. “Of course. Right this way, madam.” Arram said with a teasing bow, crossing his right arm across his breast and flourishing his left toward the dining tent. Tamél stood, and with a grin, walked to Arram. Stopped. And whacked him gently upside his head. “Hey! What’s the idea?!” He called as her ran after Tamél. “Okay, girl, you’ll pay for that!” He said as he ran into the tent after Tamél. He ran over to the cook, Eagleclaw. He pointed at Tamél. “Some “special” root sauce for her.”
Eagleclaw nodded, giving Arram a wondering look, then reached over with a wooden ladle into a pot made of a shell that was full of bubbling red sauce. He poured it generously over the meat. Tamél smiled at him and took her smoothly carved, wooden bowl outside to a rotted stump that was a perfect seat. She took her fork and pulled off a chunk of meat. She stuck it into her mouth. Arram, who was peering around the tent flap, saw her face freeze; then turn red as the root the sauce had come from. She turned and spat the bite behind the stump. Then she hastily set her plate on the stump and got up and ran into the tent again. Arram, who had gone unnoticed by Tamél, turned and watched her talk to Eagleclaw. Eagleclaw smiled and turned into the separate area of the tent that served as a supply room. He picked up a large nutshell and a carved pitcher and poured some water out of the pitcher into the shell cup. Arram walked to Tamél. As he neared, he heard her ask Eagleclaw who made the wooden utensils. “I did.” He said, causing Tamél to jump and splash her water on herself. “You made this?” Tamél said, looking at him wonderingly. “Who taught you?”
“I taught myself.”
_____
That afternoon, Tamél felt unusually carefree. That might have been because Brutus was no longer driving them through the woods on minimum food and water; but it also could’ve been that this was the first day since she was ten that she didn’t have to work her tail off for Ms. Huhus or anyone else.
_____
5
Later, near dusk, Tamél asked Arram, “Please, tell me what’s happened since I passed out.”
Arram looked at her… then dismissed the warriors within hearing range of them. He turned on his stump to face away from the camp Tamél did the same and looked at him questioningly. “There’s not much to tell. Our city isn’t far from here; a fairy brought the message to us that there was a group of girls with a man traveling through the heart of Hasnongome not far from us. The fairy spent enough time spying on you to figure out that Brutus was taking you to the shurgan slave trader; the one you fought.”
“But didn’t you say that you were always around me? Why did anybody have to bring you the information?” Tamél asked skeptically.
“No,” Arram replied, “I said I was always near. The fairy was my replacement for when I couldn't always be around. When the fairy told us what was happening, I set out with half my warriors to catch Brutus.”
“Why?” Tamél asked. “What do you have against Brutus?”
“He’s captured many of our wives and daughters, killing their husbands or brothers in the process. Personally though, he killed my sister.”
Tamél looked at her hands awkwardly and said, “I’m sorry.”
Arram replied sadly, “It was a long time ago. I was too young to defend her and my father died trying.”
Trying to exit this exceedingly awkward position Tamél asked a question that seemed harmless. “Was your father the king of your city as you are now?”
“No.” Arram replied coldly. “Anyway, we came to your camp and ambushed Brutus on his way to his morning bath.”
Tamél snorted.
Arram smiled. The coldness before seemed only related to his father.
“We grabbed Brutus and tied him to the tree he now occupies.”
Tamél smiled again.
“And then Sona took me to you. She wasn’t strong enough to carry you all the way to Brutus’, tent where she said the only bed was, and Brutus didn’t care enough. He’d brought Sona for the shurgans, all the rest of you were just to be sold.”
“I wondered if that was what we were headed for.” Tamél said glumly.
The two of them talked for a little while longer before the lookout ran into the camp announcing that the Royal Guard was coming. The warriors that surrounded the camp a little ways away from the two on the stumps stalk still. Arram whispered, “Thana pilro.” Everyone except Arram disappeared. Tamél looked down at herself and screamed. She wasn’t there. She held her hand in front of her face and waved it. She could not see it! She looked at Arram who appeared to be able to see her. “Look,” he said. “This is the effective way of doing it. There is another way but Yarin would be sure to figure out that elves were here.”
“Who’s Yarin?” Tamél asked franticly. Tamél was scaring herself. She usually never got panicked. But now that she was, that scared her too. “I’ll explain later.” And Arram was off. Before he was out of earshot, Tamél heard him say, “Pargal shorshe.” to himself. His ears changed to the average appearance.
_____
6
Arram walked up and stood beside Brutus. Tamél saw his mouth move, and then she saw a stump on the ground behind him, a knife in his right hand, and a partially whittled stick in his left. He sat on the stump and started whittling at the wood. Soon, Tamél heard the Royal Guard tromping closer in a rhythmical stomp. When they came into the camp, Arram stood casually and saluted half-heartedly; it being a Toranian custom. When Tamél saw them, she prayed a quick prayer.
Arram talked with a man in the lavish armor of a Royal Commander. Green and yellow patterns that come uniquely made by the royal tailor with the country’s symbol covered his armor, his shield, and his sword hilt. The Royal Commander pointed to Brutus who was the only one other than Arram and the Royal Guard who could be seen. Brutus started protesting, “This is an outrage!” He ranted. “The country of Toran had always been open to th-.” Brutus was cut short by the jab of Arram’s stick in his side, and the tip of a Toranian sword at his throat. One of the soldiers untied Brutus from the tree and immediately Brutus tried to run, but the soldier who’d untied him was still holding on to him. The whole group of soldiers laughed and Tamél heard a muffled snicker from one of the other elves. The Royal Commander slapped Arram on the back, Tamél saw look of disgust flash across his face as he tried not to flinch. The Commander and Arram talked a little while after that before the Royal Guard departed.
Arram waited patiently until all of the Royal Guard was long gone, and then he walked to the eastern side of the camp. Tamél watched his mouth move again. She could see everyone now. Arram was headed for what Tamél could now see as a man with long legs, blond hair, and a mischievous look. Arram talked to him for a short while after he’d pulled him away from the three deep, circles of warriors.
When he’d finished talking to the blond, Arram came over to Tamél. He looked tired. “What’s wrong?” Tamél asked as he came closer.
“The magic, the illusions” he answered. “Making my ears go back, making everyone disappear, making the illusion with the stump and knife. It all takes energy, some of the illusions more than the rest.”
“Who was that man?” Tamél asked, nodding in the direction of the blond man.
“My brother. He helps me with decisions. He also listens to me spew about people I don’t particularly like. Like Yarin.”
“That’s another thing,” Tamél said. “Who is Yarin? Was he the commander you were talking to?”
“Yes.” Arram said shortly. “And my enemy.”
“What? He didn’t seem like much of an enemy.”
“On the surface, he isn’t. You have to get beneath the nice man act to the core. Underneath the nice, friendly person becomes a cruel, hard man.” Arram stopped.
“You don't have to tell me.” Tamél said. But she wanted to know more.
Arram sighed. He looked at his hands as he began to talk. “I grew up with Yarin. He was orphaned when his mother and father drowned in a fishing accident. My father took him in and raised him like he was his own son, but that was the problem. He treated Yarin as more of a son than me. My father told Yarin all sorts of secrets that should have been told to me and no one else.”
“Why?” Tamél asked.
“They were secrets about Jashar, the elven city, and its people. Only the next tribe leader was supposed to know them before the present leader was dead. Please, don’t interrupt. Everything will be explained in time.”
Tamél looked apologetically at her knees. Then she brought them up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“Anyway,” Arram went on. “Yarin grew up in my position, as the heir to the Throne of Jashar. But as he got older, Yarin wanted more. He wanted more power than he would have leading an elven city. So, he ran away, trying to get a position in the king’s army. He never came back. A few years after Yarin left, my father heard that he’d been made the Commander of the Royal Guard. As you know, that is only one position under the king himself. My father was so torn up that he killed himself and tried to kill me so that Yarin would come back and lead Jashar.”
Tamél stared at him in horror.
“He succeeded in killing himself, but the healer in our village, Orna Cälni, had enough skill to heal me, though the scar was beyond her abilities. My father stabbed himself in the chest and when he saw me walk out of the hut that was our home, he stabbed me too. I saw it coming though. He missed my heart, but the wound bled so much that it would’ve been fatal. After he stabbed me, my father jumped into Coerne Koeiru, the lake that borders our village, separating Jashar from the land beyond. I was ten at the time.
“Later, I went to the palace and asked for Yarin. It took forever and again to acquire an audience, but eventually I got in for a short confrontation; I told Yarin that my father was dead and that I was the next in line for his position. I asked Yarin to tell all of what my father had told him. He told me what he could, but it wasn’t much. Yarin was always very proud. He had a position of rank in both the elves midst and the king’s; and he knew it. He flaunted that in my face multiple times, the fact that he was second in command to the king of the country, where as I was going to be the leader of a city, a mere elven city. He mocked the fact that my level of intelligence with the things that went on behind the scenes in Jashar was so minimal and the fact that a ten year old would be taking on the job of a seasoned adult was extremely laughable to him. I went back home and talked with my father’s assistants and the elders of the village, trying to get as much knowledge of the town’s necessary actions as I could so as to run the village well.
“Another loathing that I hold against Yarin is that he slighted the elven race. He abandoned them and by that, caused the demise of one of the best leaders of Jashar. Also, when Yarin was admitted to the Royal Guard, he spread rumors that told that the elven race had been wiped out long ago. When he reached the position of Royal Commander, he told the king that the elves were just a myth; he had wandered the woods most of his life, which was true, and had seen no activity other than a few fellow wanderers and the woodland animals he came across every once in a while.”
Arram stopped, abruptly through with the story. Tamél looked at him for a minute, as she’d been doing all through his story, then, lowered her eyes to the ground. She thought over what he had said. She didn’t blame him for the grudge he held against Yarin; in some ways it was probably safer to be wary of someone so you don’t get sucked into their traps, but then again, Elshadai had made it clear to her when she’d held a grudge against her parents for making her work for Mrs. Huhus, that loathing people accomplished nothing good. It only caused rifts in friendships. You were so busy hating that one person, that you ignored the other friends that could help you. But maybe it was different for Arram.
Tamél looked at him. “Why doesn’t he attack you, kill you so that elves really don’t exist anymore? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Because,” Arram answered simply, “His own race would disappear. He is only half elf, but the loyalty that is deep down in everyone with the smallest drop of elven blood prevents him from doing just as you said.”
“But if the loyalty is there, why doesn’t he want the elves to be known of?”
“The loyalty is subconscious, just like every living thing knows that there’s a Creator, every living thing knows its true nature; but that doesn’t mean they have to follow it or acknowledge it.”
Tamél thought about this. She could understand that. She knew deep down that she was elven, but she also knew she was human. “What about the loyalty to the human race? Do I choose to follow it just the same as you choose to follow the loyalty to elves?”
“That is your choice. Not mine.” Arram replied. “Come on. I want you to meet my brother.” He stood and walked toward the tents that had been set up during their long conversation. Tamel followed.
When they reached Arram’s brother Arram said, “Cólin, this is Tamél, the one Princess Sona said should live with the elves. Tamél, this is Cólin, my brother and confidant.”
Cólin leaned forward in an exaggerated bow.
Tamél tipped her head and bent her knee in the fashion that Salna had taught her to do if she ever met an elf outside of her family. Cólin smiled at the returned custom and asked, “Who taught you that? In the Kingdom, the women bow so deeply that they look like midgets. You have the air of an elf about you, and the training of one as well. Who was your teacher?”
“Salna, your aunt.”
“You knew Salna? Well, this is a small world!”
Tamél was suddenly hit with a wave of dread. “What do you mean ‘knew Salna’? I know her.”
“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to imply that she was...nothing of the sort! Just ever since she disappeared it’s been kind of second nature to speak of her in past tense. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Cólin was so concerned about the alarm caused, that Tamél had to laugh. “It’s okay.” she chuckled. Then she turned to Arram and asked, “When are we leaving for Jashar?”
“First thing tomorrow. You will be sleeping a Mara’s tent. She is my half sister. The product of one of my father’s many marriages; as is Cólin.” He spoke coldly when he mentioned his father.
“When may I meet Mara?” Tamél asked curiously.
“Now, if you like. But first know that she’s pregnant and close to her due date. She often has convulsions so severe she passes out. I didn’t want you to be alarmed at her state.”
Tamél nodded. They headed toward a tent that was on the edge of the camp and surrounded by many guards. To Tamél’s surprise, Cólin went with them. He talked on and on about Jashar, Mara, Arram, himself, the weather, and how glad he was that Tamél was going to stay with them. Tamél was amazed at how many words he could fit into five minutes. She looked at Arram. He smiled and rolled his eyes.
When they reached the tent, Tamél was glad to hear Cólin's constant stream of words trickle off. Words that came so fast, that it actually felt like a river rushing over her. Arram ducked in first holding the flap open for first, Tamél, then Cólin. Inside, Tamél saw a small woman on a cot. Her hair was as red as fire and as curly as willow shavings. The woman smiled as they entered. “Arram, Cólin! I’m so happy to see you! But who is this?” Mara looked kindly, but questioningly at Tamél. “Tamél, ma’am.” Tamél answered. She dipped her head and bent her knee in the way she had to Cólin. Mara grinned, obviously pleased with the demonstration of tradition. “Where did you learn that? Arram couldn’t have taught you that in one day.”
“I know his aunt Salna. She taught me.”
“Ahhh, but she is my aunt too. No doubt Arram had told you that we are half siblings. Well, all of the ‘half siblings’ are related to Salna. She was Jalska’s sister.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now, Arram, could you pour me some water. I feel another pain.” Mara squeezed her eyes shut in agony.
Arram poured the water and hurried over to Mara. After a minute or so, Mara opened her eyes and relaxed her visibly rigid body. “I’m fine.” She said in a small voice. Mara was apparently not very strong; she also looked rather young to be having a baby.
The three of them talked to Mara for a while, but she was weak and pale and didn’t return much of the conversation with anything other than small nods or weak smiles. When they left, Cólin headed toward the dining tent. With a concerned expression Tamél asked Arram a question she’d wanted to ask since she’d seem Mara, but felt that she shouldn’t in front of Mara herself. “How old is Mara?” she asked, “She looks a little young to be having a baby.”
“She’s seventeen.” Arram paused. Seeing no further answer coming, Tamél asked another question. “Who’s the father?”
“Gordën, a reputable man, but not one that I’d pick for Mara.” Arram answered.
They walked to a tent the held cots, blankets, and other sleeping needs. “How in the world did you get all these things down here in just one night? The food, the sleeping supplies, and everything.” Tamél asked wonderingly.
“We didn’t. A score of warriors and I came down last night and captured Brutus. The rest came later this morning while you still slept.”
“Oh.”
They grabbed some things for Tamél then took them to Mara’s tent. As they went, Arram told her more about Mara. “Mara is my only sister still alive. She was four when father died. She was born with a twisted foot; she’s never walked quite right and has the innocence of an infant. Gordën is a reputable man, but he’s too…I don’t know. He’s just not right for Mara.”
“You say he’s a reputable man; but is he good.” Tamél asked. “Does he genuinely care for Mara as a person? Does he care for anyone as an actual person? Or does he use them for himself, the servants for his convenience, and the warriors for his protection? Is he the kind of person who views himself as the only person and everyone else as, just tools?”
Arram looked at her, amazed. “You just described Gordën perfectly! He is rather selfish and self revolving. That must be what is wrong about him! Mara cares for people; Gordën doesn’t.”
“Are they married?”
Arram looked at her. His look told her the answer.
“If he hasn’t married her, then isn’t he probably only using Mara to get an heir?”
“I’ve thought of that and I’ve come up with a solution. Not the most preferable option, but workable. Gordën will not get the child if he doesn’t marry Mara, and if he won’t marry her… well, then. I have the power to throw him out of Jashar, don’t I?”
Tamél laughed. Something in his manner told her though, he would never let Gordën marry Mara.
Apparently, Arram had already told Mara that she’d be having a tent guest, because she wasn’t surprised at all. They set up another cot next to Mara’s and arranged the blankets and pillow on it. Arram left, saying, “I’ll be back to take you to dinner and to bring Mara hers.” He smiled at Mara and said to her. “If you need anything, just have Tamél come get me,” then turning to Tamél he said, “I’ll be in Cólin’s tent, the third one down from the supply tent.” Then he left.
Tamél and Mara talked for a while, the talked of Arram, Gordën, the elves, Tamél’s life in Pizora, and of different options for the baby’s name. “I think, if it’s a girl, Claura would be nice; and if it’s a boy, Tashbo.”
“I love that!” Tamél exclaimed. “But what if you have two boys or two girls? And what if Gordën doesn’t like the names?”
“Gordën couldn’t care less about the baby. I have no idea why this baby is even his; I never really loved him, and I always could tell he never really loved me; but he was so kind and sweet when I first met him in another far off elven village, that I convinced myself that I did love him.” Mara stopped and looked into the distance of the tent wall. Tamel wondered, something about the way she said that made Tamel think Mara was lying. But she couldn't figure out why Mara would lie to her. She dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
“Anyway,” Mara said suddenly snapping out of her daze, “I already thought of a solution for that problem. If I had two girls, it would be Claura and Tashba; with two boys it would be Arram and Cólin.”
Tamél smiled. “Your brothers are very kind to you.”
Mara smiled back, “Yes,” she replied hesitantly. “They are. I also get the feeling that one of them is becoming very fond of you.”
Tamél stared at her then changed the subject. “When is your baby due?”
“Anytime between tonight and next month.”
“Well, how do you know when it’s time?”
“From what other mothers in Jashar have said, it’ll be quite obvious. The pains will be so much worse–heaven forbid–that I’ll know.”
They talked a little while longer before Arram came in with a plate full of food and a cup full of a sweet smelling pink drink. “Here Mara,” Arram said, gently setting the plate of food and the cup on the small night stand that stood between the two cots. “Do you need anything else?” Arram asked Mara.
“No, thank you Arram.”
Arram smiled at her, then, turning his smile on Tamél, he held the tent flap open and they started across the clearing to the dining tent on the other side. When they walked in, Tamél almost fell backwards, the noise inside was so loud. Every square yard of the enormous tent had long, rough, wooden tables with adjoining benches covering its ground. The benches held men and women of all sizes and shapes. Tamél saw that the women were hard to decipher from the men because they’d cut their hair as short as most of the men’s and their faces were weather hardened just like the men's.
When they finally got to the front of the dinner line, Tamél saw that they were having pigeon again. Eagleclaw was ladling generous amounts of the fire root sauce onto the bird for every single elf that was in front of them. When Eagleclaw saw them, he guffawed loudly. Everyone turned to look at him; silence fell, except for his loud laughter. He started to say something, but Arram stopped him with a warning smile. The other noise resumed. Eagleclaw handed Tamél a sauce-free bird and then heaped so much on Arram’s bird that it was almost submerged. Arram had been too busy trying not to laugh about the sauce incident that was obviously replaying in his mind, that he forgot to tell Eagleclaw when to stop with the sauce. When Tamél cleared her throat and gestured absently at his bowl, holding back the laughter that welled up in her at the sight of his expression.
Arram took Tamél around to almost every tent when they’d finished eating; introducing her to everyone in the camp. “There are many more back at the village; these are just the warriors that I chose to come with me. Some are civilians, such as my sister, but many of our people were killed by Brutus, and almost everyone still alive was related to one of them somehow. They wanted to be here to see him taken away.”
Tamél nodded, then yawned.
“I guess it’s time to go back to Mara. I’ll be in Cólin’s tent if anything comes up.” Arram then led her to Mara’s tent. Mara was already asleep when Tamél walked in, so she changed her clothes as quietly as she could and got under the blankets. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. It had been a long day.
_____
She was homeless. She had no family and no home. All she had were memories that continually flooded her mind and the clothes she wore. Raiders had come and burned her house and killed her parents. Her village, Pizora, was no more. Once, this ash-covered grave had been a beautiful country village in the valley of Pizora. Tall weeping willows grew on either side of the dirt road that wove and curved for miles. Cherry trees grew in every front yard, possibly the oldest trees in Toran. They had inspired the name, Pizora, meaning 'cherry blossoms' in the First Language, the language known to all. A language not learned, but known, a language not known to the evil. The First Language comes from Elshadi, evil is neither able to understand nor speak it. The trees had spoken the First Language so beautifully. Now they were gone. Through the charred skeleton trees you could almost see the tree people inside the burned trunk. Their eyes closed, their mouths open. Horror distorting their faces.
Tamél’s home had been the most beautiful in Pizora. Tamél's father, Mylone, had been the chosen leader of the village of Pizora. They'd had a home in the center of the town with a beautiful pathway that led from the road to their front steps with all manner of flowers along either side of it. At the end of the walkway at either end and on either side were the cherry trees. Now, the only things left of the town were the ashes, the charred trees, and the dirt road. The dirt pathway slithered up to her house like a snake. But her house was no longer a house, it was just a heap of charred timber and ashes. She had so often lingered upon that path when coming home from her daily work. She worked for a man's elderly mother in another village. She hated this job, but the lady’s son paid her family well for it. Tamél hated having to walk seven miles both ways to care for an old lady, especially this old lady. Ms. Huhus was her name. She was a widow, by her own fault, Tamél thought. Old lady Huhus had probably killed her husband with a well aimed flower vase to the head. She threw flower filled vases at Tamél all the time, and when she did, she spewed the foulest language Tamél had ever heard. Unfortunately, Tamél thought, even though she'd heard a messenger say raiders had burned old lady Huhus’ village as well, killing her son, Ms. Huhus house was the only one still standing. Tamél didn’t know why. She probably threw a flower vase or the next best ammunition, large cooking pots, at them when they had come with in a hundred feet of her home.
On the third day after the raid, a man came to Tamél's village with a group of five girls. The few who had survived the raid had fled and Tamél was the only one left in the village, she’d refused to go when the villagers told her they were leaving and now she just sat and alternated between staring into the distance and crying so hard her head hurt.
The man approached her, leaving the girls in the street. “Hello Miss, ma name’s Brutus. I’m a takin these here gals down to tha orphanage in Tora. Tamél ignored him. “Miss?” He questioned. His southern accent scrapped at her nerves. “Miss, are you aw right?”
“No.” This was the first and last thing Tamél hoped to say to this man. There was something wrong about him, but she hurt too much from her grief and from sitting on the ground for three days to pay much attention to the feeling.
“Come on,” Brutus drawled, trying to sound kind, but not really succeeding.
“You’re comin’ wi me.” He grabbed the girl’s arm and tried to drag her up. She didn’t budge. He tried again. Nothing. Finally he knelt down, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her up over his shoulder, but even that was difficult with the strength that the girl fought against him, which was astonishing for a girl of her size. Especially one who hadn't eaten or even moved in days.
With Tamél over his shoulder, he walked back to the girls who Tamél now saw, each carried a huge pack. Brutus set her down. “Heey, lookie here, you can carry my pack!” He laughed. All the big lug was carrying was his stupid grin. Tamél saw one girl, who, though she looked about fourteen in her features, looked eight in her frame, carrying a pack larger than she herself.
After Brutus had finished searching the ruins of the village for any other people or goods that had survived the fire, they went on their way to the orphanage. Tamél noticed that they were going east. The orphanage was west. But she didn’t care. Her family was gone, and all the people she knew and cared about. She was homeless and an orphan. Nobody cared about her, and she cared for nobody, though, the small girl with the large pack held something vaguely interesting about her. But what did that matter. She'd just die from grief soon enough.
_____
That night, Tamél found that while Brutus had a huge tent all to himself, the six girls had to share one small tent. They were so crammed together that a couple of the girls had to sleep lengthwise across another’s feet. Tamél ended up right next to the tiny girl and neither of them had anyone lying on their feet. “What’s your name?” the girl asked sleepily.
“Tamél.” She sat up on her elbows, hoping for a conversation. She was a little less grief-striken now, and she was bored to tears. Brutus hadn't let them speak a word on the journey.
“I’m Sona, I know, I look like I’m ten or something of the sort but, I’m not. I am sixteen, so don’t feel sorry for the child that I appear to be.” Sona murmured. She seemed to be confident despite her size and seemed used to giving this little speech.
Tamél was surprised at this unusual answer. “Where do you come from?” She asked.
Silence.
“Son-.” Tamél was interrupted by a small snore from Sona. Tamél lay down again. “Good night,” she whispered into the darkness. Then, she was suddenly no longer bored, but exhausted. She too was soon asleep.
_____
2
They had been camped at this spot in the middle of the woods where there happened to be a clearing, for over three days. Guessing by the way Brutus knew his way around, Tamel assumed he came through these parts often. Usually, the most they stayed in one spot was one day, often less. On about the second or third night, Tamél burned the horrible stew that they were having yet again; and Brutus threatened her. Again. This time she could tell that he meant it, she could hear only annoyance in his voice before, but this time she heard sincerity. While he was in one of his quieter spells of his lecture on burning stew, the lecture that only she got, Tamél heard soft footsteps stop outside the tent. Tamél had always had a knack for knowing who was nearby just by their sound or smell. She didn’t know this person’s sound. The footsteps sounded heavier than any of the girls and Brutus was stitting in front of her. But before she could decipher anything else Brutus raised his voice again, he was getting annoyed, she obviously wasn’t listening to him, but he was too stupid to think that there could be something intriguing her more than his tedious speech.
When he’d finished his lecture, Tamél left. She plodded up to the stew pot that Sheila was now attending. She dipped out a bowl for Brutus and thanked Sheila. As she was walking toward the tent she was engrossed in trying to figure out who the intruder had been. Why had he stopped outside Brutus’ tent? Why not the girls tent instead? He certainly could have persuaded one or all of the girls to go with him, if for no other reason than to get away from Brutus. Suddenly, Tamél saw a shadow move outside Brutus’ tent. The shadow of a human. Only, it wasn’t human. It flicked in and out of existence like the spiral of smoke that had come from Ms. Huhus’ chimney. Suddenly, the thing turned toward her. Tamél jumped, splashing stew all over her already grimy clothing. The red eyes turned on her showed a look of surprise, then fury. Tamél saw past the outward expressions to the evil that was strongly alive inside the thing. Then, it was gone.
That night, after Tamél finally got away from Brutus and that stupid soup, she lay in her spot next to Sona who was snoring peacefully. Tamél’s thoughts kept flickering from the thing outside Brutus’ tent to Brutus. Tamél felt that, in spite of his promises, and his at first relatively positive appearance, Brutus was evil. She was sure that if something miraculous didn’t happen soon, all the girls would come to live in the company of Brutus and other men like him, or worse than him if that were possible, for the rest of their lives. That was not an appealing thought to Tamél. She finally let go of the shield she'd been protecting her mind with and let herself see the full meaning of things, the way she had before the raid and Brutus and all that her life now consisted of. She saw as plain as day that Brutus was taking them to be sold. The truth of this was so obvious that the revelation shocked Tamél to a sitting position. Jerking herself out of her half doze as well as the peaceful slumber Sona had been in.
“What, what is it?” Sona murmured drowsily.
“Sona, I figured it out!”
“Figured what out?” Sona yawned.
“We’re not going to the orphanage! Brutus is going to sell us!”
Sona gaped at her, completely awake now. “How did you know?” she asked.
“Because the orphanage is only ten days walk from my village, and in the opposite direction!”
“Elshadai sashiina.” Sona breathed in the first Language. Elshadi save us.
“I knew it all along and I ignored it!” As she exclaimed this, Tamél burst into tears.
“It’s not your fault.” Sona tried to comfort. She stroked Tamél’s hair.
“Well then whose is it?” Tamél asked harshly. “I knew all along, I had… that feeling, and I didn’t pay any attention to it!” Tamél cried harder. She thought of all the things she could’ve prevented if she’d only let herself truly see. She thought of Sona and all the girls, she thought of Brutus and the soup she’d burned. She was falling apart, the combination of the immense stress and the self-inflicted stupidity had broken her.
“It is my fault if it's anyone's.” said Sona. “I knew all along. I was surprised when you figured it out. But you are smart. There's nothing we can do. How would we get away from Brutus anyway?”
“There are far more of us than of him. We could– what was that?” Tamél interrupted herself abruptly. Sona looked at her, perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“I heard something, outside the tent.” Tamél got up slowly. Crunch. She stopped, than she looked at Sona, her eyes were the size of the bowls that they ate that horrid stew out of every night, she had heard it this time. Tamél stood the rest of the way up, slowly, silently. “Don’t go out there!” Sona hissed at Tamél. Tamél just shook her head and held her hand out to Sona, warning her to stay where she was. Then, she leaped out of the tent, prepared for anything. Only she didn’t jump quite high enough and her foot hit Jasmine, who had slept at the entrance of the tent every night since they stopped. Tamél was knocked off balance, causing her to roll rather awkwardly out of the tent rather than gracefully leaping out of it. Unfortunately, Jasmine shrieked as Tamél hit her, Tamél rolled quietly enough that the person outside would never have heard her, but the scream caused him to turn toward the tent opening. Therefore, Tamél rolled silently, but completely noticed, out onto the cool ground of the forest. She rolled past him and jumped to her feet. She swayed. All the rolling had made her excruciatingly dizzy. The intruder ran toward her, sword drawn. She step swayed out of the way, but it wasn’t enough, the sword plunged into her shoulder causing blood to gush down her right side. The pain jolted her into action, her intolerance for pain had aroused an anger; she’d always hated being hurt, even a little. She spun on the intruder. He was running at her, his sword headed straight for her heart. Lucky aim. She thought. No one could see in this pitch darkness. Excluding Tamél, of course, given the fact that she had her father's elven blood, which gave her the night vision of a cat. Cutting her thoughts short, Tamél went into action. As she attacked, the person before her transformed. The average six foot three male changed into a seven foot five black, furry, red-eyed monster with claws that looked like the birthplace of every bacteria known to healers. What th- Tamél thought? Her shock had caused her to freeze, loosing a perfect opportunity to run the heinous monster through. GRAAA! The thing roared at her. Then it picked up its sword from where Tamél had knocked it when she attacked the thing. The sword had also changed, becoming double edged and about a foot longer. Then, the monster charged.
_____
“The left side!” Sona yelled. So, without thinking, Tamél sliced at the arm with the sword pointed at her heart. The girls could see everything happening due to the little oil lamp that was in Sona’s hand that was always kept in their tent. Sona handed the lamp to Lanae and stepped out of the tent. “The other left!” Sona yelled at Tamél. What? She thought. The arm that had had the sword was the right arm. The left arm was pinned to the side of the thing as if from a birth defect, but it wasn’t doing any harm. Whatever. She snatched the sword from the place the monster had dropped it, and thrust it into the left side of the monster. The thing charged her. This time Tamél wasn’t ready. She’d been expecting something to happen, like the thing would fall down, clutching its bloody wound or something that would give her an advantage over it. Tamél screamed as the thing flew into her. That made her very mad! When Tamél got mad, things could get dangerous. Seriously. “Shinasasio.” She whispered the word that supposedly gave the warriors of old power over their enemies, then, Swiiisssh...THUNK. Her fist flew through the air and punched the thing in the face. The blow would have generally knocked a normal being off her and on to its back. Only nothing happened. Her fist went straight through its laughing face. “You think you can defeat me?” The deep, gravelly voice of the thing startled Tamél only a little. She fought under the weight of the thing. Even though it seemed to be vapor, it was as heavy as a house. “No, she can’t.” A familiar voice rang out. Sona? The thing spun around, Tamél looked passed it. Sona was standing there just the way Salna did while teaching Tamél's sparring lessons; in a perfectly positioned fencing stance. “Sona?” Tamél asked confusedly.
“Get away, Tamél.” She waved the sword toward Tamél.
“Sonaaaa. You are the one I’m here for. You are wanted by Lubboc.”
Wsss. The sword whistled past Tamél and sliced down the length of the side on the left, severing a slab of meat that should have been its left arm, from the monster’s body. The thing stared at Sona, an expression of shock on its face. “Right.” Sona answered sarcastically to the statement, as though the thing was wasting its time even talking to her. Then she threw the sword through the stomach of the shurgan and walked to Tamél. The sword stuck in the earth behind the monster, or at least, it would have if the monster had been there.
3
“Is it dead?” Tamél asked, still rather in shock from what she’d just seen.
“Unfortunately, no,” Sona replied, sitting down next to Tamél. “Shurgans don’t die. Once they are disintegrated, what just happened to this one, their spirit returns to the castle of the shurgan king, Lubboc. They remain there until the downfall of their kingdom. They aren't permitted to leave.”
“How did you know how to kill it, or disintegrate it? And why did Lubboc want you?”
Sona’s triumphant expression disappeared instantaneously. “Because,” she explained, “I’m a very important person to Toran.” Tamél looked at her warily. “It’s true.” Sona said softly, “Part of the sword training I receive is the secret to killing a shurgan. Shurgans have a thing for killing significant people of Toran. They are dangerous, but there aren't enough of them who are able to leave Lubboc's castle for them to form an attack.”
“H-h-how did you get kidnapped by Brutus?” Tamél stuttered, a result of adrenaline and extreme surprise. “Isn't the Toranian royalty always surrounded by guards, night and day?”
“I never said I was royal.” she was quick to defend that, which made Tamél suspicious. “But yes, I was out with a single guard in the forest when Brutus snuck up behind him. He knocked out the guard, and then took me with him.” Sona finished.
They talked for a while longer, but then, because of her wound and the sudden fear and need to defend herself, Tamél passed out.
_____
Yaaawn! Tamél stretched in the warm afternoon air. Wait! She thought. Afternoon?! Usually Brutus got them all up at the crack of dawn so that they could bathe him, which repulsed them all to the furthest extent. But she had not been rudely awakened by a sharp snap of a whip against her rear end. She had slept through the morning until the afternoon! But why was she in a tent by herself? Something was wrong. But before she could think any farther, Tamél heard a voice outside of a man. Other than Brutus. She quickly squinted her eyes into the position that said she was asleep but still allowed her to see. A tall, handsome, muscular man with a kind face ducked into the tent. He walked toward her. His dark hair was wavy and reached his jaw-line. He had eyes that were a black-violet color. She tensed her body. Closer. Closer. There! Tamél hesitated only a second, and only because of the kindness in his face. But she’d been fooled by that before and wasn’t going to be fooled again. Her left foot flew out from under the single blanket that she’d been covered with and hit the man in the jaw. He yelled in surprised and pain as he fell over backwards. She jumped up, knocked the intruder back, and pinned him to the floor. After she did, she bit back a shriek and fell backwards. Fire was shooting through her arm. The man staggered up with his hand at the side of his face and spit blood onto the dirt. He made his way cautiously over to Tamél’s side, cautious of another blow. She was holding her arm, gritting her teeth against the pain. He sat down on the floor next to her. He reached behind her and grabbed the blanket off of the cot. “The wound had scabbed, but was not strong enough for a trick like that.” he said with a straight face, but she thought he was joking. He pulled her hand away from her shoulder. Blood soaked her shirt and covered her hand. Her teeth gritted with pain. He took the blanket and ripped it into strips. He wrapped it tightly around the deep gash. He whispered a few inaudible syllables, then the pressure against her shoulder grew and it hurt for an instant. But then it faded and actually felt much better. She no longer felt suspicious of this man. In fact, she felt rather comfortable around him.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“Forgive me,” he said, “my name is Arram, and you are?”
“Tamél. Where did you come from?”
“Come look outside. I think, what you’ll see will explain it for you.”
They walked outside and the sight that Tamél saw stopped her cold. Surrounding the camp was an army dressed the same as Arram. The warriors were tall and slender, but solid. Their hair was long, longer than Arram's, and most of them were blond, some even to point where their head looked white.
On the edge of the camp, Brutus was tied to a tree, guarded by several warriors with spears. He was screaming curses at the seemingly deaf guards, but as she watched, the guard on Brutus’ left suddenly broke his stolidity. He spun around and held the point of his sword against Brutus’ throat. They didn’t hear a peep out of him for a long while after that.
Looking around at the other warriors that surrounded the small clearing, Tamél saw that there were so many warriors that they had formed rings around the camp, the ones she could see clearly were those in front who were standing shoulder to shoulder. “Well?” Tamél spun free of her thoughts and looked at Arram. “Well, do you know who I am now?”
“Uhh, a commander?” she answered brilliantly. In her defense, she'd had a rough night.
“A commander of what?”
“Of…an army?” Again she looked at Arram and seeing the exasperated expression on his face, she got annoyed. When annoyed, Tamél was completely herself, not always a good thing. “Look commander-of-an-army Arram, I am not playing guessing games with you. Tell me who you are and what you have done with Sona and the other girls or else the injury you received in the tent will be made much more severe!” As she said this, she pulled her right fist back, prepared to strike, hard.
Arram calmly gripped her fists as he started, “I have known you since you first visited Salna.”
“What in th-,” Tamél interrupted. She quit trying to fight his grasp, but stayed tense, ready to fight. Or run. Whichever was called for.
Arram stopped her. “Let me finish.”
Tamél’s expression now, was one of disdain. She pulled free and crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the large oak behind her and glared at Arram. He started again, “I’ve known you since you first visited Salna. She’s my aunt.”
Tamél stared at him, contempt clearly visible on her face. But she didn’t say anything.
“I was visiting her and was just coming back from collecting some type of root for her special medicines that she sells in the town, when I heard you come up. I hid behind an oak and watched you with Salna. I was supposed to stay with her until the next moon for training in healing, but one night, I went to meet one of my spies. When I returned, she had disappeared. I have been near you ever since, following you wherever you went. She had bound me with a promise, one to watch over you and prevent the evil she saw coming for, from getting to you. I was there when your house burned and when Brutus took you. I am elven.”
This last revelation made Tamél burst out laughing. Arram knew why. He whispered, “Pargal sorshi.” As he did the extremeties that Tamél had been laughing at changed. His ears became pointed, and not just slightly, they took on a full change. As did, Tamél saw later, had the other warriors. She stopped laughing, and wondered. If all of them are elven and their ears changed why wouldn’t mine. Her hands flew to her ears. Her pointer fingers touched her ear lobes and ran up the edge of her ears. Curve. Dip. Straight up. Over. Straight down. “Elshadai.” She whispered the prayer. Again, she looked at Arram. He smirked. “As are you I see.”
_____
4
After she’d recovered from her initial shock Tamél said, “Ok. Fine. You know my secret; but where are the girls?” She shook her hair over her ears, hiding them. Arram strode forward, heading for a group of warriors near the opposite end of the clearing. She followed. As they neared the group, Tamél could see that the warriors were surrounding a huge tent.
When they got to the tent Arram stopped outside as Tamél went in. “Tamél!” This greeting wasn’t very surprising to Tamél, but the surroundings were astonishing. The girls each had their own bed and new clothing that looked a lot like spider silk, the most expensive fabric in Toran. Someone was missing though. “Where’s Sona?” Tamél asked suspiciously.
“Don’t know.” Chimed Jasmine. She looked more vibrant that Tamél would have thought possible. “She hasn’t been around since they arrived.” She gestured to the tent flap, outside of which the warriors were still standing guard. “Did you see Brutus?” she giggled.
Tamél nodded absently. “I have to go.” She said abruptly. She turned and ran out of the tent, nearly body-slamming Arram. “Where’s Sona?” She growled at Arram as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of hearing range of the tent and the guards surrounding it. “I’m done with these games. Tell me where Sona is!”
Gently, but firmly, Arram reached down and removed her hand from his arm. Then,
with a solemn look, Arram pulled a small, folded piece of paper from under the shoulder of his shirt. “From Sona.” Arram stated simply as he handed it to her. Tamél snatched it murmuring, “How in Toran would Sona get paper.” Paper was a luxury reserved only for royalty or the very rich. She carefully opened the note and started to read silently to herself:
Dear Tammy,
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you sooner about who I really am. With Brutus and the girls always around, I never felt safe enough to tell you. I am the Princess of Toran.
I want you to know that I’m leaving for only two reasons:
a) I know of Arram and his elves (I asked him to tell you that he was elven before he gave you this note) and I know that you will be safer in their city than anywhere else, so my worries are not with you.
b) To notify the Royal Guard that I am safe and to tell them that the Toran renowned criminal, Brutus, is in the Hasnongome forest. Also, to arrange the adoption of the girls as my sisters. I will not request your adoption because I know you well enough to know that you would resent me for the rest of time if I tried to make you stay in one place. Please do not tell the girls of this plan because it will take an indefinite period of time and I don’t want them thinking that I changed my mind.
I will see you again.
Sona
Tamél slowly folded the letter. “Why?” she asked Arram who was standing a little ways away. He walked over and by the expression on his face, Tamél guessed that either Sona had told him what was in the letter, or he had read it for himself. “I mean, she’s probably right. About the being “royal”part, but still, I’d like to be her sister.” Tamél stared at the letter in her hands. “I think,” Arram’s strong, warm voice said softly. “That she is your sister.” Tamél stared at him as if his pointed ears had just become horns. Smiling gently, he went on. “You and she both believe that Elshadi’s the savior of all Iniere. Those who believe that are a part of the same family. Elshadi’s family.”
Tamél had never thought of this in quite that way.
“Are you apart of that family?” She asked, tentatively.
“Yes.”
This to-the-point answer reassured Tamél. She didn’t know why. She looked up at Arram; he was staring at her, in a funny way. Tamél couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m hungry,” she murmured as she stared into her hands. “Where can I get something to eat?”
“Oh, of course.” Arram mumbled back, breaking his gaze with a jerk. “Of course. Right this way, madam.” Arram said with a teasing bow, crossing his right arm across his breast and flourishing his left toward the dining tent. Tamél stood, and with a grin, walked to Arram. Stopped. And whacked him gently upside his head. “Hey! What’s the idea?!” He called as her ran after Tamél. “Okay, girl, you’ll pay for that!” He said as he ran into the tent after Tamél. He ran over to the cook, Eagleclaw. He pointed at Tamél. “Some “special” root sauce for her.”
Eagleclaw nodded, giving Arram a wondering look, then reached over with a wooden ladle into a pot made of a shell that was full of bubbling red sauce. He poured it generously over the meat. Tamél smiled at him and took her smoothly carved, wooden bowl outside to a rotted stump that was a perfect seat. She took her fork and pulled off a chunk of meat. She stuck it into her mouth. Arram, who was peering around the tent flap, saw her face freeze; then turn red as the root the sauce had come from. She turned and spat the bite behind the stump. Then she hastily set her plate on the stump and got up and ran into the tent again. Arram, who had gone unnoticed by Tamél, turned and watched her talk to Eagleclaw. Eagleclaw smiled and turned into the separate area of the tent that served as a supply room. He picked up a large nutshell and a carved pitcher and poured some water out of the pitcher into the shell cup. Arram walked to Tamél. As he neared, he heard her ask Eagleclaw who made the wooden utensils. “I did.” He said, causing Tamél to jump and splash her water on herself. “You made this?” Tamél said, looking at him wonderingly. “Who taught you?”
“I taught myself.”
_____
That afternoon, Tamél felt unusually carefree. That might have been because Brutus was no longer driving them through the woods on minimum food and water; but it also could’ve been that this was the first day since she was ten that she didn’t have to work her tail off for Ms. Huhus or anyone else.
_____
5
Later, near dusk, Tamél asked Arram, “Please, tell me what’s happened since I passed out.”
Arram looked at her… then dismissed the warriors within hearing range of them. He turned on his stump to face away from the camp Tamél did the same and looked at him questioningly. “There’s not much to tell. Our city isn’t far from here; a fairy brought the message to us that there was a group of girls with a man traveling through the heart of Hasnongome not far from us. The fairy spent enough time spying on you to figure out that Brutus was taking you to the shurgan slave trader; the one you fought.”
“But didn’t you say that you were always around me? Why did anybody have to bring you the information?” Tamél asked skeptically.
“No,” Arram replied, “I said I was always near. The fairy was my replacement for when I couldn't always be around. When the fairy told us what was happening, I set out with half my warriors to catch Brutus.”
“Why?” Tamél asked. “What do you have against Brutus?”
“He’s captured many of our wives and daughters, killing their husbands or brothers in the process. Personally though, he killed my sister.”
Tamél looked at her hands awkwardly and said, “I’m sorry.”
Arram replied sadly, “It was a long time ago. I was too young to defend her and my father died trying.”
Trying to exit this exceedingly awkward position Tamél asked a question that seemed harmless. “Was your father the king of your city as you are now?”
“No.” Arram replied coldly. “Anyway, we came to your camp and ambushed Brutus on his way to his morning bath.”
Tamél snorted.
Arram smiled. The coldness before seemed only related to his father.
“We grabbed Brutus and tied him to the tree he now occupies.”
Tamél smiled again.
“And then Sona took me to you. She wasn’t strong enough to carry you all the way to Brutus’, tent where she said the only bed was, and Brutus didn’t care enough. He’d brought Sona for the shurgans, all the rest of you were just to be sold.”
“I wondered if that was what we were headed for.” Tamél said glumly.
The two of them talked for a little while longer before the lookout ran into the camp announcing that the Royal Guard was coming. The warriors that surrounded the camp a little ways away from the two on the stumps stalk still. Arram whispered, “Thana pilro.” Everyone except Arram disappeared. Tamél looked down at herself and screamed. She wasn’t there. She held her hand in front of her face and waved it. She could not see it! She looked at Arram who appeared to be able to see her. “Look,” he said. “This is the effective way of doing it. There is another way but Yarin would be sure to figure out that elves were here.”
“Who’s Yarin?” Tamél asked franticly. Tamél was scaring herself. She usually never got panicked. But now that she was, that scared her too. “I’ll explain later.” And Arram was off. Before he was out of earshot, Tamél heard him say, “Pargal shorshe.” to himself. His ears changed to the average appearance.
_____
6
Arram walked up and stood beside Brutus. Tamél saw his mouth move, and then she saw a stump on the ground behind him, a knife in his right hand, and a partially whittled stick in his left. He sat on the stump and started whittling at the wood. Soon, Tamél heard the Royal Guard tromping closer in a rhythmical stomp. When they came into the camp, Arram stood casually and saluted half-heartedly; it being a Toranian custom. When Tamél saw them, she prayed a quick prayer.
Arram talked with a man in the lavish armor of a Royal Commander. Green and yellow patterns that come uniquely made by the royal tailor with the country’s symbol covered his armor, his shield, and his sword hilt. The Royal Commander pointed to Brutus who was the only one other than Arram and the Royal Guard who could be seen. Brutus started protesting, “This is an outrage!” He ranted. “The country of Toran had always been open to th-.” Brutus was cut short by the jab of Arram’s stick in his side, and the tip of a Toranian sword at his throat. One of the soldiers untied Brutus from the tree and immediately Brutus tried to run, but the soldier who’d untied him was still holding on to him. The whole group of soldiers laughed and Tamél heard a muffled snicker from one of the other elves. The Royal Commander slapped Arram on the back, Tamél saw look of disgust flash across his face as he tried not to flinch. The Commander and Arram talked a little while after that before the Royal Guard departed.
Arram waited patiently until all of the Royal Guard was long gone, and then he walked to the eastern side of the camp. Tamél watched his mouth move again. She could see everyone now. Arram was headed for what Tamél could now see as a man with long legs, blond hair, and a mischievous look. Arram talked to him for a short while after he’d pulled him away from the three deep, circles of warriors.
When he’d finished talking to the blond, Arram came over to Tamél. He looked tired. “What’s wrong?” Tamél asked as he came closer.
“The magic, the illusions” he answered. “Making my ears go back, making everyone disappear, making the illusion with the stump and knife. It all takes energy, some of the illusions more than the rest.”
“Who was that man?” Tamél asked, nodding in the direction of the blond man.
“My brother. He helps me with decisions. He also listens to me spew about people I don’t particularly like. Like Yarin.”
“That’s another thing,” Tamél said. “Who is Yarin? Was he the commander you were talking to?”
“Yes.” Arram said shortly. “And my enemy.”
“What? He didn’t seem like much of an enemy.”
“On the surface, he isn’t. You have to get beneath the nice man act to the core. Underneath the nice, friendly person becomes a cruel, hard man.” Arram stopped.
“You don't have to tell me.” Tamél said. But she wanted to know more.
Arram sighed. He looked at his hands as he began to talk. “I grew up with Yarin. He was orphaned when his mother and father drowned in a fishing accident. My father took him in and raised him like he was his own son, but that was the problem. He treated Yarin as more of a son than me. My father told Yarin all sorts of secrets that should have been told to me and no one else.”
“Why?” Tamél asked.
“They were secrets about Jashar, the elven city, and its people. Only the next tribe leader was supposed to know them before the present leader was dead. Please, don’t interrupt. Everything will be explained in time.”
Tamél looked apologetically at her knees. Then she brought them up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“Anyway,” Arram went on. “Yarin grew up in my position, as the heir to the Throne of Jashar. But as he got older, Yarin wanted more. He wanted more power than he would have leading an elven city. So, he ran away, trying to get a position in the king’s army. He never came back. A few years after Yarin left, my father heard that he’d been made the Commander of the Royal Guard. As you know, that is only one position under the king himself. My father was so torn up that he killed himself and tried to kill me so that Yarin would come back and lead Jashar.”
Tamél stared at him in horror.
“He succeeded in killing himself, but the healer in our village, Orna Cälni, had enough skill to heal me, though the scar was beyond her abilities. My father stabbed himself in the chest and when he saw me walk out of the hut that was our home, he stabbed me too. I saw it coming though. He missed my heart, but the wound bled so much that it would’ve been fatal. After he stabbed me, my father jumped into Coerne Koeiru, the lake that borders our village, separating Jashar from the land beyond. I was ten at the time.
“Later, I went to the palace and asked for Yarin. It took forever and again to acquire an audience, but eventually I got in for a short confrontation; I told Yarin that my father was dead and that I was the next in line for his position. I asked Yarin to tell all of what my father had told him. He told me what he could, but it wasn’t much. Yarin was always very proud. He had a position of rank in both the elves midst and the king’s; and he knew it. He flaunted that in my face multiple times, the fact that he was second in command to the king of the country, where as I was going to be the leader of a city, a mere elven city. He mocked the fact that my level of intelligence with the things that went on behind the scenes in Jashar was so minimal and the fact that a ten year old would be taking on the job of a seasoned adult was extremely laughable to him. I went back home and talked with my father’s assistants and the elders of the village, trying to get as much knowledge of the town’s necessary actions as I could so as to run the village well.
“Another loathing that I hold against Yarin is that he slighted the elven race. He abandoned them and by that, caused the demise of one of the best leaders of Jashar. Also, when Yarin was admitted to the Royal Guard, he spread rumors that told that the elven race had been wiped out long ago. When he reached the position of Royal Commander, he told the king that the elves were just a myth; he had wandered the woods most of his life, which was true, and had seen no activity other than a few fellow wanderers and the woodland animals he came across every once in a while.”
Arram stopped, abruptly through with the story. Tamél looked at him for a minute, as she’d been doing all through his story, then, lowered her eyes to the ground. She thought over what he had said. She didn’t blame him for the grudge he held against Yarin; in some ways it was probably safer to be wary of someone so you don’t get sucked into their traps, but then again, Elshadai had made it clear to her when she’d held a grudge against her parents for making her work for Mrs. Huhus, that loathing people accomplished nothing good. It only caused rifts in friendships. You were so busy hating that one person, that you ignored the other friends that could help you. But maybe it was different for Arram.
Tamél looked at him. “Why doesn’t he attack you, kill you so that elves really don’t exist anymore? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Because,” Arram answered simply, “His own race would disappear. He is only half elf, but the loyalty that is deep down in everyone with the smallest drop of elven blood prevents him from doing just as you said.”
“But if the loyalty is there, why doesn’t he want the elves to be known of?”
“The loyalty is subconscious, just like every living thing knows that there’s a Creator, every living thing knows its true nature; but that doesn’t mean they have to follow it or acknowledge it.”
Tamél thought about this. She could understand that. She knew deep down that she was elven, but she also knew she was human. “What about the loyalty to the human race? Do I choose to follow it just the same as you choose to follow the loyalty to elves?”
“That is your choice. Not mine.” Arram replied. “Come on. I want you to meet my brother.” He stood and walked toward the tents that had been set up during their long conversation. Tamel followed.
When they reached Arram’s brother Arram said, “Cólin, this is Tamél, the one Princess Sona said should live with the elves. Tamél, this is Cólin, my brother and confidant.”
Cólin leaned forward in an exaggerated bow.
Tamél tipped her head and bent her knee in the fashion that Salna had taught her to do if she ever met an elf outside of her family. Cólin smiled at the returned custom and asked, “Who taught you that? In the Kingdom, the women bow so deeply that they look like midgets. You have the air of an elf about you, and the training of one as well. Who was your teacher?”
“Salna, your aunt.”
“You knew Salna? Well, this is a small world!”
Tamél was suddenly hit with a wave of dread. “What do you mean ‘knew Salna’? I know her.”
“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to imply that she was...nothing of the sort! Just ever since she disappeared it’s been kind of second nature to speak of her in past tense. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Cólin was so concerned about the alarm caused, that Tamél had to laugh. “It’s okay.” she chuckled. Then she turned to Arram and asked, “When are we leaving for Jashar?”
“First thing tomorrow. You will be sleeping a Mara’s tent. She is my half sister. The product of one of my father’s many marriages; as is Cólin.” He spoke coldly when he mentioned his father.
“When may I meet Mara?” Tamél asked curiously.
“Now, if you like. But first know that she’s pregnant and close to her due date. She often has convulsions so severe she passes out. I didn’t want you to be alarmed at her state.”
Tamél nodded. They headed toward a tent that was on the edge of the camp and surrounded by many guards. To Tamél’s surprise, Cólin went with them. He talked on and on about Jashar, Mara, Arram, himself, the weather, and how glad he was that Tamél was going to stay with them. Tamél was amazed at how many words he could fit into five minutes. She looked at Arram. He smiled and rolled his eyes.
When they reached the tent, Tamél was glad to hear Cólin's constant stream of words trickle off. Words that came so fast, that it actually felt like a river rushing over her. Arram ducked in first holding the flap open for first, Tamél, then Cólin. Inside, Tamél saw a small woman on a cot. Her hair was as red as fire and as curly as willow shavings. The woman smiled as they entered. “Arram, Cólin! I’m so happy to see you! But who is this?” Mara looked kindly, but questioningly at Tamél. “Tamél, ma’am.” Tamél answered. She dipped her head and bent her knee in the way she had to Cólin. Mara grinned, obviously pleased with the demonstration of tradition. “Where did you learn that? Arram couldn’t have taught you that in one day.”
“I know his aunt Salna. She taught me.”
“Ahhh, but she is my aunt too. No doubt Arram had told you that we are half siblings. Well, all of the ‘half siblings’ are related to Salna. She was Jalska’s sister.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now, Arram, could you pour me some water. I feel another pain.” Mara squeezed her eyes shut in agony.
Arram poured the water and hurried over to Mara. After a minute or so, Mara opened her eyes and relaxed her visibly rigid body. “I’m fine.” She said in a small voice. Mara was apparently not very strong; she also looked rather young to be having a baby.
The three of them talked to Mara for a while, but she was weak and pale and didn’t return much of the conversation with anything other than small nods or weak smiles. When they left, Cólin headed toward the dining tent. With a concerned expression Tamél asked Arram a question she’d wanted to ask since she’d seem Mara, but felt that she shouldn’t in front of Mara herself. “How old is Mara?” she asked, “She looks a little young to be having a baby.”
“She’s seventeen.” Arram paused. Seeing no further answer coming, Tamél asked another question. “Who’s the father?”
“Gordën, a reputable man, but not one that I’d pick for Mara.” Arram answered.
They walked to a tent the held cots, blankets, and other sleeping needs. “How in the world did you get all these things down here in just one night? The food, the sleeping supplies, and everything.” Tamél asked wonderingly.
“We didn’t. A score of warriors and I came down last night and captured Brutus. The rest came later this morning while you still slept.”
“Oh.”
They grabbed some things for Tamél then took them to Mara’s tent. As they went, Arram told her more about Mara. “Mara is my only sister still alive. She was four when father died. She was born with a twisted foot; she’s never walked quite right and has the innocence of an infant. Gordën is a reputable man, but he’s too…I don’t know. He’s just not right for Mara.”
“You say he’s a reputable man; but is he good.” Tamél asked. “Does he genuinely care for Mara as a person? Does he care for anyone as an actual person? Or does he use them for himself, the servants for his convenience, and the warriors for his protection? Is he the kind of person who views himself as the only person and everyone else as, just tools?”
Arram looked at her, amazed. “You just described Gordën perfectly! He is rather selfish and self revolving. That must be what is wrong about him! Mara cares for people; Gordën doesn’t.”
“Are they married?”
Arram looked at her. His look told her the answer.
“If he hasn’t married her, then isn’t he probably only using Mara to get an heir?”
“I’ve thought of that and I’ve come up with a solution. Not the most preferable option, but workable. Gordën will not get the child if he doesn’t marry Mara, and if he won’t marry her… well, then. I have the power to throw him out of Jashar, don’t I?”
Tamél laughed. Something in his manner told her though, he would never let Gordën marry Mara.
Apparently, Arram had already told Mara that she’d be having a tent guest, because she wasn’t surprised at all. They set up another cot next to Mara’s and arranged the blankets and pillow on it. Arram left, saying, “I’ll be back to take you to dinner and to bring Mara hers.” He smiled at Mara and said to her. “If you need anything, just have Tamél come get me,” then turning to Tamél he said, “I’ll be in Cólin’s tent, the third one down from the supply tent.” Then he left.
Tamél and Mara talked for a while, the talked of Arram, Gordën, the elves, Tamél’s life in Pizora, and of different options for the baby’s name. “I think, if it’s a girl, Claura would be nice; and if it’s a boy, Tashbo.”
“I love that!” Tamél exclaimed. “But what if you have two boys or two girls? And what if Gordën doesn’t like the names?”
“Gordën couldn’t care less about the baby. I have no idea why this baby is even his; I never really loved him, and I always could tell he never really loved me; but he was so kind and sweet when I first met him in another far off elven village, that I convinced myself that I did love him.” Mara stopped and looked into the distance of the tent wall. Tamel wondered, something about the way she said that made Tamel think Mara was lying. But she couldn't figure out why Mara would lie to her. She dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
“Anyway,” Mara said suddenly snapping out of her daze, “I already thought of a solution for that problem. If I had two girls, it would be Claura and Tashba; with two boys it would be Arram and Cólin.”
Tamél smiled. “Your brothers are very kind to you.”
Mara smiled back, “Yes,” she replied hesitantly. “They are. I also get the feeling that one of them is becoming very fond of you.”
Tamél stared at her then changed the subject. “When is your baby due?”
“Anytime between tonight and next month.”
“Well, how do you know when it’s time?”
“From what other mothers in Jashar have said, it’ll be quite obvious. The pains will be so much worse–heaven forbid–that I’ll know.”
They talked a little while longer before Arram came in with a plate full of food and a cup full of a sweet smelling pink drink. “Here Mara,” Arram said, gently setting the plate of food and the cup on the small night stand that stood between the two cots. “Do you need anything else?” Arram asked Mara.
“No, thank you Arram.”
Arram smiled at her, then, turning his smile on Tamél, he held the tent flap open and they started across the clearing to the dining tent on the other side. When they walked in, Tamél almost fell backwards, the noise inside was so loud. Every square yard of the enormous tent had long, rough, wooden tables with adjoining benches covering its ground. The benches held men and women of all sizes and shapes. Tamél saw that the women were hard to decipher from the men because they’d cut their hair as short as most of the men’s and their faces were weather hardened just like the men's.
When they finally got to the front of the dinner line, Tamél saw that they were having pigeon again. Eagleclaw was ladling generous amounts of the fire root sauce onto the bird for every single elf that was in front of them. When Eagleclaw saw them, he guffawed loudly. Everyone turned to look at him; silence fell, except for his loud laughter. He started to say something, but Arram stopped him with a warning smile. The other noise resumed. Eagleclaw handed Tamél a sauce-free bird and then heaped so much on Arram’s bird that it was almost submerged. Arram had been too busy trying not to laugh about the sauce incident that was obviously replaying in his mind, that he forgot to tell Eagleclaw when to stop with the sauce. When Tamél cleared her throat and gestured absently at his bowl, holding back the laughter that welled up in her at the sight of his expression.
Arram took Tamél around to almost every tent when they’d finished eating; introducing her to everyone in the camp. “There are many more back at the village; these are just the warriors that I chose to come with me. Some are civilians, such as my sister, but many of our people were killed by Brutus, and almost everyone still alive was related to one of them somehow. They wanted to be here to see him taken away.”
Tamél nodded, then yawned.
“I guess it’s time to go back to Mara. I’ll be in Cólin’s tent if anything comes up.” Arram then led her to Mara’s tent. Mara was already asleep when Tamél walked in, so she changed her clothes as quietly as she could and got under the blankets. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. It had been a long day.
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