Their eyes turned back to the sword.
San dir.
“Son of a king, Sontúr? This blade belonged to the son of the king of Calrazia.”
“Oh Gods,” muttered Sontúr, lifting his eyes from the book to The Company and Llyniel who sat frozen.
“That thing was a prince?” asked Galadan.
“It would seem that way,” confirmed Sontúr, but Idernon’s head was back in his book.
“Wait.” Picking up the scroll once more, he pulled it closer and then swayed backwards, eyes wide, body stiff. “Di san dir … commanders.” He turned gleaming eyes on Gor’sadén and then Fel’annár.
“Translate it for us, Warrior,” said Pan’assár carefully.
“Di san dir. Four princes.”
Their fire crackled, sparks rising upwards. The flapping of some night bird sounded not far away, the rush of flowing water. Their thoughts remained unspoken. Four brothers. Four princes.
How many of them were Nim’uán?
With the watch set and rotating every two hours, Fel’annár meant what he had said. He would not rest. He sat, half way between the camp fire and the perimeter, cross-legged and with his back against a birch tree. Galadan knelt close by, hands on his thighs.
“Well, trainee-lieutenant. How have these first days been as a commanding officer?”
“It has been easy so far. Our warriors are my brothers, I know them well.” He turned to Galadan. “And then I have you, should I do something stupid.”
Galadan turned to him. “You will not. And yes, you have me. But there is little I can teach you, Fel’annár, save perhaps for my experience. You know the Code, you know the theory, and you have a natural disposition towards command. All you lack is experience; the anticipation of strife, the sometimes unlikely turn that events can take. Only experience can foresee what may or may not happen. Although in your case, you have the trees.”
“They are not infallible. But yes, I have the trees. The problem is sometimes convincing others that there is a danger they cannot perceive. With The Company it’s not a problem, but with those that don’t know me … it comes down to a question of trust – faith, even.”
“Then it is up to you to kindle that faith, that trust. That is the mark of a commander, Fel’annár. Warriors will throw themselves into the face of danger at one word from you. They will not question your motives or your reasoning but simply trust that it is sound. If you can achieve this, then you will know that you are a commander.”
Fel’annár let Galadan’s words settle. It was not about how skilled he was as a warrior. It was not how well he knew the code, or how efficiently he set up a camp and set a guard. It was not even about his ability to strategise. The key, according to Galadan, was his relationship with his warriors.
“Perhaps I will achieve that one day, become a captain.” He smiled. Fel’annár had never relinquished that dream, never would.
“You have already achieved it, Fel’annár. All that is left is to test you at the command of unknown warriors. I look forward to the day we arrive, when the Silvan warriors will look to you. And still, I will be there to help you, if you need it.”
“I will always need you, Galadan.”
The lieutenant who had never wanted to be a captain, smiled softly into the night, head turned away from the trainee lieutenant who did not seem capable of seeing himself as others did. He would though, soon enough, because if Galadan was right, the Silvan warriors of Ea Uaré would follow him willingly. They had proclaimed him Warlord and the challenge for one such as Fel’annár, would be the greatest he would ever face.
7
Flight to Infinity
“Water can soothe, cleanse, quench thirst and feed nature. It harbours life, gives life, as easily as it can take it.”
The Alpine Chronicles: Cor’hidén
At dawn, Carodel and Galdith once more reported to Fel’annár and Galadan. They, in turn, spoke discreetly with the commanders and the rest of The Company. They had nothing to report, except that Galdith had seen a flash in the night. Carodel said it was moonlight, reflecting on steel. Fel’annár thought it could have been many things. Still, he was uneasy, the trees restless. Something was wrong, but it was as if some distant danger was being magnified, more than it should.
They pushed away from the shore and navigated into the very centre of the river, Talen crossing gazes with Deron. They moved faster than they had the previous day. But yesterday’s excitement of navigating the river had turned to tense silence. Between the unknown threat that Fel’annár spoke of and Idernon’s discovery, there was plenty to consider.
The Nim’uán they had vanquished had three brothers. Were they alive? Were they Deviant, too? Fel’annár, for one, didn’t understand. He knew Deviants and Sand Lords were enemies, and yet their own prince was a Deviant? An elf? It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t going to question Idernon’s findings. He wondered if, perhaps, Hobin would be able to shed some light on the matter.
But of all of them, it was Fel’annár and Gor’sadén who had seen the beast up close. Only they knew of its strength, its beauty, that velvety, hissing voice and the perverse gleam in its eye.
Under normal circumstances, the commanders would send urgent missives to Comon in Tar’eastór and Huren in Ea Uaré, to warn them that there may be more Nim’uán, that they may be allied with Sand Lords. But these circumstances were not normal. There were no messengers to send. They were nowhere near a military outpost and wouldn’t be, not until they were in Bulls Bay and even then, it would not be safe to approach the army.
Fel’annár’s arms burned, but he welcomed it. The rhythmic movement helped him to focus, and his eyes were back on the river and the now murky waters they sliced through. The Cor’hidén was wider here, the distance between them and the shore greater. Should the enemy attack, they would not be so hard-pressed to escape. Still, Handir sat with one hand wrapped tightly around the ropes that held down his luggage, though whether that was due to the rapid waters or the threat of attack, Fel’annár couldn’t say.
With an order from the guide to correct their direction, Ramien dug in and rowed faster towards the right. The boat lurched sideways, sending Handir’s other hand to the safety ropes. Pan’assár saw him but said nothing. Handir had proven himself an outstanding statesman and a better tactician than he had ever given him credit for. He had been a pleasant surprise to Pan’assár on this mission. Yet one thing was crystal clear to him: Handir was not an elf of action.
The current was strong, pulling them to the left, and their guide held fast to the rudder, leaning against it. Water splashed over the sides, and before long, they were all drenched, and the roar of the river was almost deafening.
Talen’s voice broke over the tumult of angry water warring with stone. “Row hard—hard!”
Ramien and Fel’annár picked up the pace, digging their paddles deep into the water, hands disappearing beneath the surface. The boat rocked and tipped with the ever-higher waves, and then the bow would plunge back into the river, sending sheets of frigid water over them all.