Authors: Brian Fuller
It was the morning of their third day together between the towering canyon walls. The trek proved difficult. They encountered numerous reminders of the battle their first day hiking downstream. Bodies of men and Uyumaak, washed over the falls during the fight, peppered the shoreline, and Gen did his best to steer the Chalaine away from the upsetting carnage. He tried interesting her in the plants and vistas around her to distract her mind, initially meeting with only partial success.
The pristine, primitive canyon provided no convenient road or path. Trees, brush, deadfall, and the river itself constantly barred their progress, forcing them to guess which way would present the safest course. They guessed wrong as often as not, forcing them to backtrack over rough terrain. “The trail is longest when first taken,” Samian would have said. From what Gen remembered of the map, traversing the canyon, given a good trail, would take the better part of four days. At their current pace, Gen calculated they wouldn’t get out for at least seven, if not more—if at all.
The Chalaine slowed them, and Gen knew she felt badly for it. Gen had grown up with the sounds and sights of the forest; the Chalaine had spent her life in what amounted to a dungeon. The memory of their first night by the river would always cheer him, and he hoped he had the chance to tell Maewen. Every flutter, crack, splash, or scratch brought the Chalaine from a dead sleep to a rigid, wide-eyed sitting position with “What was that?” on her lips. Of course, Gen couldn’t blame her given the Uyumaak difficulties the caravan had experienced and the threat of the Ilch that had haunted her throughout her life. Gen tried to calm her by telling her he’d seen no sign of Uyumaak, and he hadn’t.
Worse than inexperience, however, was her conditioning. She tired easily and needed long rests before continuing. Through the Im’Tith, he could sense her cramped calves, aching feet, and burning lungs, and to spare her embarrassment he would stop before exhaustion forced her to admit she needed a rest. These rests provided ample time for conversation. The first day, she asked questions about the battle repeatedly, wringing her hands with worry. On the second day, she accepted that they would know nothing for some time and resigned herself to the task ahead.
Despite her concerns, the vibrant world around her gradually worked its enthralling magic upon her. Gen enjoyed her childlike fascination with every flower, plant, or bird they passed along the way, and he found her enthusiasm infectious. She had taken well to eating the plants, roots, nuts, and berries that Gen scavenged for their meals from the abundant flora around them. Gen expected the new regimen of food to sicken her as it did most of those new to the wild, but he could not see or feel any discomfort from her. If anything, his own stomach fared the worse.
Gen peered downriver as the Chalaine finished drinking from a still pool formed on the lee side of the immense granite rock they had camped under the evening before. The sun rose between the two walls of the canyon directly into his face, making it difficult to see for any great distance. As yet, the imposing walls and fallen rock had not forced them to cross the river, but from what he could tell the canyon narrowed ahead, and he feared their path would compel them to climb or swim.
“So what are you going to teach me today, Gen?” the Chalaine asked happily, coming to stand in front of him. “I could do without any more talk of how to survive bear attacks. I had the most awful dreams last night.”
The Chalaine wanted to know everything about the outdoors and eagerly absorbed whatever he told her.
“I know. You talk in your sleep sometimes. Last night was particularly bad,” Gen commented as he kicked dirt over the smoldering fire.
“Was it?”
“Yes. I couldn’t understand most of it, though I definitely heard you say, ‘To your right, Gen! A bear on the trail!’ Or maybe it was, ‘Yes you’re right Gen, I’ll wear my veil!’ Hard to tell with all the mumbling and drooling.”
“What I really said,” the Chalaine retorted, hands coming to her hips, “was, ‘Shut up about the veil, Gen, or I’ll bash your head in with a rock and push you in the river.’”
“No. It wasn’t nearly that violent. Let’s go.” Gen walked forward, shouldering the makeshift pack.
The Chalaine took up her position just behind Gen in a reversal of their normal routine when within the castle. “The way you keep begging for me to put the veil back on is starting to make me think you find me hideous!”
Gen shook his head. “You know that isn’t true. Chertanne will be livid beyond reason that I’m out here alone with you. I think his head will melt if he knows I’ve seen you unveiled. Not only that, he’ll assume I did what he would do were he in my boots right now. I don’t want him to think I would ever stoop to his kind of behavior.”
“Gen, I’ve worn this veil my entire life. My
entire
life! You can hardly imagine how tired I am of seeing the world half obscured. I think I’m even more tired of being the Chalaine. Always mysterious. Always unapproachable. Always irresistible. Finally, I find a man I can look at with my naked face without fear of ravishment, a man who talks with me as he would any other person, a man who isn’t afraid of me or mad with desire for me. If I weren’t stranded in some canyon miles from home, I’d almost feel like a normal woman! Let me enjoy this while I can.”
“I’m sorry, Alumira,” Gen apologized. She demanded he use the name he had invented for her. “I suppose I just want us both to be above any accusation. I couldn’t bear to have your reputation blemished falsely. Or mine, for that matter . . . for Fenna’s sake.”
“I understand that, but stop a moment.” She grasped him by the arm and pulled him around. “Look at me.” Gen did so reluctantly. “Let me tell you something. Chertanne will think you’ve been out here philandering with me, veil or no veil. Chertanne will also not think better of you for not having done so. I think the fact that you wouldn’t touch me is completely beyond his understanding. Fenna and my mother will believe anything I tell them. Ethris and the Pontiff will know the truth regardless of what anyone says. As for anyone else, I care little.”
“Provided any of them survived the Uyumaak attack,” Gen added darkly, avoiding addressing the Chalaine’s point.
“Yes. I have faith they did. Prophecy will be fulfilled, and at least Chertanne must have survived. God’s will must be done.”
“I’m not so sure,” Gen replied, turning away and leading out again.
“How do you mean?”
“There is an elven saying: ‘For prophecy there must be two, a god to will and a servant to do.’ God’s will, I think, is not enough. Many lesser prophecies have failed because of the folly of men. What’s to say this one, despite its importance and grandeur, won’t?”
The Chalaine considered his words quietly for a long time. Gen chanced a glance at her, finding her deep in thought. “What would we do?” she finally asked. “What would we do if we came to Elde Luri Mora and found that everyone else was dead? What would happen?”
“If the prophecy be true, then Mikkik would have won, and he will do with Ki’Hal whatever he pleases.”
“No, I mean what would
we
do? Say we arrive in a few days and no one ever comes. What do we do then?”
“I don’t know,” Gen replied. “We could try to return to Rhugoth with the bad news, though the Uyumaak would likely slaughter us on the way back. I’m not sure we’ll get back, even if half the soldiers we came with managed to survive. If we wanted to live longer, we could stay at Elde Luri Mora, since Mikkik’s creatures can’t abide it. I’m sure Mikkik would change that at some point, but at least for a while we could sit in relative peace and watch the world fall.”
“I still think God will provide. I may be naive, but were Chertanne or I to fail, Eldaloth would send others to take our place.”
“You could hope that.” Gen studied the canyon ahead; the narrow gap awaited only a mile away. “If I were sure of it, I would hand Chertanne over to the Uyumaak at the next opportunity. Maybe the Blessed One’s replacement would be a bit more blessed. I must admit to you that I have grave doubts about Chertanne. I know he can father a child, but wherever Mikkik is, I doubt he’s spending a lot of time chewing his fingernails over your fiancé.”
“My mother said much the same thing a couple of nights before Regent Ogbith was killed. She didn’t say it, but I think she’s reconsidering handing Rhugoth over to Chertanne.”
“That would mean war. Torbrand would come for Rhugoth just as he did for Tolnor. He thirsts for a fight and will use any excuse to get into one.”
“He wouldn’t find Rhugoth quite so easy a plum to pick, no offense to your homeland. We are strong and a Portal away from Aughmere.”
“That is true,” Gen conceded, “but I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt your mother would let it come to war. She loves you more than anything, and if she’s willing to hand you over to Chertanne for the prophecy’s sake, then I doubt she would hold Rhugoth in higher regard.”
“What choice do any of us have?” the Chalaine returned glumly.
They walked in silence over a gravelly part of the river bed. The Chalaine bit her lip the entire time as if struggling with something. Finally, she exhaled roughly.
“I must confess something to you, Gen. I have never told anyone else, and I feel I should tell you now. I have committed a terrible sin.”
He stopped and turned toward her, concerned at her tone. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to tell me anything you don’t want to, Chalaine.”
“I know, Gen, but I have borne this alone for long enough. Just listen, please. In the spring of last year, Dason and I were walking alone in the hallway of my chambers and he asked me to kiss him—on the lips—as a sign of my regard. I did.”
The Chalaine waited, avoiding his eyes.
“And . . . ?”
“That is all.”
“Did he see you unveiled, then?” Gen asked.
“No. It was through the veil.”
Gen burst out laughing, and the Chalaine’s head snapped up in surprise. “My goodness, Chalaine,” he chuckled. “The way you were carrying on I thought you had done something truly awful!”
“It is horrible!” the Chalaine fumed, annoyed by his untroubled reaction. “I was unfaithful to my calling! It was a grievous mistake, and I have suffered greatly for it.”
“I am sorry,” Gen apologized. “I did not mean to make light.”
“You should reproach me, Gen! I couldn’t tell my mother or the Pontiff—to whom I should have confessed—because I was so scared of what they would say or do.”
“Then why tell me?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I knew you wouldn’t judge me so harshly, though I certainly didn’t expect you to find my deeply hidden secret so ridiculous.”
“Chalaine, you try harder than anyone I know to do what is right. Indiscretions that skip off of the consciences of most strike deep into yours. The standard of perfection you set for yourself is so high that an unhallowed knave such as myself can only think it ridiculous when you flog yourself for transgressions I find trivial.”
She folded her arms. “I am supposed to be holy, Gen. I don’t feel it.”
“And how does
holy
feel?”
“I don’t know. More confident, more powerful, more
good.
”
“I cannot tell you how to feel,” Gen consoled her, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her eyes with his. “But I will tell you this:
I
have every confidence in you. You have been stalwart in your duty and courageous in difficult circumstances. You should be proud of what you have done.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling softly at her Protector. He dropped his hands and continued forward as she followed after. “You are very forgiving.”
“Not really. I’m right in the gutter of depravity with you. I kissed your mother a few days ago, and it wasn’t one of those pathetic ‘show me your regard for me’ kinds of kisses, either.”
The Chalaine stopped in her tracks, face shocked but eyes alight with mirth.
“You are a knave!”
“Careful now! Don’t add hypocrisy to your list of sins!”
“She initiated it,” the Chalaine said, “didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Gen.
“Oh, no you don’t! Hey! Slow down! What did Fenna say?”
“Do you really think I would tell Fenna about it?”
They marched on in silence after the Chalaine failed to pry any more information from her selectively tight-lipped Protector. They passed into the shadow of the canyon as it jogged south and blocked the early morning sun. Birds of prey floated high overhead to catch warmer air, and the Chalaine shivered in the shade. Gen realized the bend in the canyon gave it the appearance of narrowing from a distance when, upon arriving, he found it widened. Unfortunately, the river shore switched sides as the water eroded away the other canyon wall for some distance. The side they traversed ended in a stand of stunted pine behind which rose an impassable gray cliff.
“Did I mention,” Gen said, “that there’s a real possibility we could be trapped in this canyon forever? I hadn’t realized it before, but I haven’t seen any signs of big animals, and that means they haven’t been able to get down here. And that could mean we’ll run into a section of the river too difficult to pass.”