This is the ongoing sequel to Dark Wishes, both copyrighted under Nifty and International Common Law.
Unspoken Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part One: Markel
Chapter Fifteen
The kingdom of Elanen was primarily grassy plains and arable farmland. The western border was once the massive Chennai mountain range, destroyed centuries earlier by catastrophic volcanic eruptions. To the north, gentle foothills led to the mountains and forests that bordered Elanen's ancient ally, Endril. The most southern part of the kingdom was a quagmire of lakes and bogs which were home to majestic cedar and pine trees. There were few passages to the untamed wilderness beyond, wild even in Trelaine's time.
Elanen's eastern border, a hard day's ride from Aolane if the horse was swift, was claimed by another massive mountain range formed during the beginning of time by tectonic plates battling for supremacy. The mountain summits had been covered by snow through the countless centuries since the world was born, sacrificing very few inches of the deep snow each summer. The melted snow froze hard each winter and, through the passing eons, the summits became layers of snow and hard ice. Those who lived in the shadow of the mountains they named Death walked softly and spoke in whispers through the harsh winters.
While Efren was recovering from his sudden illness, surrounded by the warmth and love of the High King, a bird of prey spotted his next meal circling lazily over the summit of the smallest of the mountains called Death. He waited until a small cloud covered the sun before spreading his massive wings and gliding toward the unsuspecting smaller creature. Swinging his legs forward at the moment of attack, he grasped his victim in sharp talons and swept his wings downward.
A loud cry of surprise and pain burst from the smaller bird as his life ended . . . and a few inches of snow were disturbed.
. . .
"I am well enough to be bored with sitting quietly near the hearth," Efren complained to Iashain one morning.
His recovery was slow for his heart and lungs had not gained enough strength through the previous summer. Once again he had almost died and Tynan spent several weeks hovering over his lover much like a mother hen does a young chick. Only Iashain's reminder that young warriors needed training removed Tynan from his beloved's side.
With Yashidra's approval Iashain sent young Daen to Efren and the once emaciated child became an apprentice. Daen, who had shown a quick mind and eagerness to learn and be of use to the Qell, happily joined Efren in the king's cottage each day. Iashain showed the lad the massive amount of scrolls in the dungeon and it was his task to aid Efren in sorting them. Each morning Daen carried as many of the scrolls as his arms could hold and placed them neatly into stacks as Efren read the contents and determined the subject matter. Iashain found an unused part of the old dungeon for the sorted scrolls to be stored and Daen carefully placed the newly sorted ones in their proper places each evening. Although he could not yet read, he knew their final places for Iashain had given each subject its own simple code which Daen remembered.
The child was a blessing to the Qell and Markel for Daen accepted his new responsibility with great seriousness. And though he knew nothing of healing, the boy could tell when Efren's eyes grew too bright with an approaching remnant of fever. At such times Daen would put the scrolls aside and scurry about the cottage putting herbs to simmer and seeking the vials Yashidra had prepared for Efren.
With his new mentor tucked into a comfortable chair by the hearth with a warm blanket across his lap, Daen would sit near him and say, "I `member a legend my grandda told of the first Qell," he would begin.
. . .
It began innocently at the summit of the smallest mountain ... the slight displacement of snow that was imperceptible. It moved slowly, then gathered speed. It built momentum until more snow joined it and the speed increased along with mass. It reached a point where ice and snow had built a shelf, through the eons, that reached out from the mountain and the accumulated weight of the moving snow broke the shelf.
The three small villages built on the mountainsides by people possessed of either great courage or little vision had no warning of impending danger until the sound of crashing ice and snow in the distance. The sound made by the smaller mountain touched the larger two on either side and years of precariously balanced snow began a treacherous path downward.
Panic erupted in the villages and a word was heard that had never been expected ... avalanche. Parents caught their children by the hand and began to run down the mountain, hoping they would be swifter than the waves of white death rushing toward them.
Few thought of the small herd of shaggy mountain ponies, nor would there have been time for an organized attempt to free them from their enclosed paddock. Only one, a boy named Jered, could spare his mind to think of other than human life. Jered sped to the paddock, unfastened the great gate, and pulled it free. Climbing to the top rail he whistled and a shaggy dun pony ran toward him. Gathering all the strength he had in his small legs, Jered sprung from the rail and landed on the pony's back and gripped the mane with his hands. He guided the pony swiftly around the paddock and urged the rest of the herd toward the open gate. When all had escaped Jered whispered to the dun that they must make all haste to Aolane and beg help from the Kings.
Jered was an orphan and lived only because some of the old widows took pity on him and fed him from their own meager provisions. He was small for his age and showed no sign of ever possessing the strength of body needed to survive the harsh life of those who lived on the mountains of Death. But Jered knew the ponies well and was accepted by them. The dun responded to his panic stricken plea and sped toward Aolane.
. . .
Daen finished telling Efren of how Nels and Frayne plaited their hair in preparation for battle, then sat back and looked at the young man. "I want to marry someone like you when I am a man," Daen said.
"Why like me?" Efren asked.
"There are only two Qell," Daen replied, "so I will have to choose a man."
"And not a woman?"
"Girls are creepy," Daen said with all the experience of a child.
"Then perhaps you can marry Ialdor," Efren teased.
"Yashidra's baby?" Daen replied, his eyes round with shock.
Efren began to laugh and explain that Ialdor would become a man all in good time when the door to the cottage burst open and a half-frozen boy burst in, throwing himself at Efren's feet.
"Have mercy," Jered barely whispered. "The mountains of Death have fallen and the villages are buried."
Daen rushed to close the door before the cottage could become chilled. "That your pony?" he asked Jered when he notice the animal in front of the cottage.
"Yes," Jered managed between quick breaths. "Rode ... hard."
Efren quickly determined what must be done. "Take the pony to the stable and tell Usan," he told Daen. "He will know how to care for it. Tynan will be with his warriors. Go and tell him he is needed. I will summon Iashain."
"You cannot leave the cottage," Daen protested.
"I will not. Just go!"
Efren settled Jered by the fireplace with a blanket around his body and a cup of warmed goat milk.
Sitting back in his own chair he tried something he had never done before. He cleared his mind of all thoughts save one, his lover. He concentrated his thoughts toward the small archive, hoping that Iashain's magic and the bond they shared would open the Qell's mind to his plea.
The urgency of Efren's unexpected penetration into his mind struck Iashain at the same instant Daen repeated Jered's news to Tynan. Jered, still numb from the cold and his mad ride to Aolane, was speechless at the sight of the two Qell suddenly appearing in the cottage as if from the cottage walls.
"This is Jered," Efren told the Qell. "He has just arrived from the mountains of Death with news of an avalanche. He does not know how many, if any, have survived."
"We must do what we can to aid the villagers," Tynan said. "I need you to come with me, Iashain, for your magic. I will have my warriors prepare their horses for the journey. We will need them to aid in the rescue. Iashain, request healers from Yashidra. They need only know how to tend cuts and broken bones.
Your magic will care for those in shock or pain. See about warm blankets and send wagons after us. They will be needed to transport the survivors to Aolane. Efren, when we have gone please send Daen to let others know. We might need all of Aolane to open their homes."
With plans set in motion Tynan returned to his fledgling warriors and told them that their first task was at hand. Before mounting one of the horses Tynan sent out another call, a silent one ... intended for one set of ears only.
. . .
It was dawn the next day before the rescuers from Aolane came upon the first survivors of the avalanche.
Blankets were quickly passed among them and minor wounds were treated. The Qell combined their magic to create a dry area, clear of snow, and a warm fire. The youngest of the healers, Maxim, put snow to melt and heat in a small pot from his saddlebag for it was essential to provide something to warm the blood of near frozen adults and children. Assured that the young healer knew what to do, the rest of the rescue party continued.
"This will be our main camp," Tynan told Maxim. "The wagons will be here soon with more blankets and food. We will direct others to you as we find them."
Kolan and Artus had dogs they used for hunting and had brought them along, hoping the animals would help locate anyone buried beneath snow and ice. As the rescue party neared the mountains the dogs picked up the scent of several people and pointed their noses towards mounds of snow. Small groups of two or three were dug from beneath the deadly white, mounted on spare horses, and sent to Maxim's camp.
Higher up the mountainside another searched for life. His sense of smell was keen, his forelegs powerful at digging through snow and ice, his loyalty to one Qell Lord steadfast. He had been sent to find and save human life. Hunger tempted him as he came across the dead but he had been promised live prey closer to his cave and his mate.
The rescuers arrived where the tiger had been searching in time to see him gently pull a child from the snow by her clothing and carry her to a woman. "This is powerful magic," more than one thought, "that a predator works to save lives."
In the years to come, old men and women would sit comfortably beneath sprawling oak trees on gentle summer afternoons and tell the children of Elanen of a time when great white tigers joined with man and Qell in quests throughout the kingdom. When the wild predator took his mate and cubs to withdraw into the wilderness, legend increased his numbers and feats, and made him a creature of magic.
To be continued
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