Outcaste, page 36
part #1 of Alterra Undiscovered Realms Series
“That may be,” said Gaelen, who would have preferred that Errno's “wondrous turn of fate” had involved someone else. “However, I am now very worried for your safety…and mine. I don't know if anyone else is aware that I can hear things unintended, but I suppose they might be by now.”
Errno's claw-like fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Then they will want to put you out of the way, for you might overhear and spoil their plans. You must not be alone from now on!”
She truly wished he would let go of her. Gaelen liked Errno, but she did not care for his touch. “And who will shepherd me? Will you follow me through all of my daily activities? I am far more worried for you. The unintended message I received left no doubt—you are the one we should be watching over.”
“What shall we do, then?”
“One thing you should do is take this,” said Gaelen, reaching for Shandor's amulet, handing the cracked, faded deerskin to Errno. “Now, do not trifle with it—it is very powerful, and I shall want it back! If you lose it, or worse, allow it to be taken by the Enemy, I shall turn you over to Lord Shandor for punishment.”
Errno hesitated. “This does not sound like a thing I want,” he said.
“We'll find out after you have seen it and held it in your hand,” said Gaelen. “I believe the power in this amulet is part of what has allowed me to perceive unintended messages, and I’m hoping it will do the same for you.”
Errno gasped with delight, even as Gaelen had, when he first beheld the Stone. “What…what amazing beauty is this? I have never seen anything like it, not even in Mountain-home. Is it…is it magical?”
“It is quite magical. When you grasp it, all of your senses will heighten. I imagine you will be able to hear all unspoken thoughts whether they are cast to you or not. With that ability, you might be able to determine who the traitors are, for you can listen to them unaware. I want to know who was calling to Koth, and who was calling to which chieftain during the Council. Best of all, you will be able to see, hear, and smell your enemies long before they draw near enough to harm you.”
“How is that possible?” whispered Errno, who loved the idea of magic even more than Gaelen did.
“Some of Lord Shandor's divine gift flows through that crystal,” said Gaelen. “He dwelled within the Stone of Léir for ages, and some of his power yet remains. He has enhanced it and refined it for me, and as far as I know the heightening of the senses is its only power, but if you hold it in your hand it is like holding onto Shandor himself. Now, don't be afraid!” she said, as Errno was now holding the Stone away from him as though it were a deadly spider. “Shandor is your friend, remember?”
“All I remember is trying to kill myself at his command,” squeaked Errno. “And, if Shandor is so powerful that a tiny bit of him is enough to allow me to hear thoughts unintended for me, then why can he not do the same without our aid? He could discover the traitors, and all would be well.”
“From what I know of Shandor, he has always tried to keep himself separate from any taint of Darkness,” said Gaelen. Then she smiled. “He would never stoop so low. Now, just quit complaining, remove your glove, and take the amulet in your hand. I want to make sure I'm here to aid you in case…”
“In case what?” said Errno, shivering.
Gaelen shrugged. “In case you need it. Now, take the Stone in your hand so that it contacts your flesh. I'm ready to assist you if things go awry.”
Errno looked deep into Gaelen's steady gaze. He was fearful, to say the least, as he removed the glove from his right hand. To touch an Elf was one thing, but…to receive the power of an Asarla? He wasn't afraid of Duinar, but Shandor was different. Duinar always seemed harmless, but the White Eagle was intimidating in the extreme. Errno would never forget the anguish of the terrible test Shandor had imposed on him.
(If not for that test, the People would have been denied,) said Gaelen, casting gentle, persuasive thoughts. (Shandor did what he did to show what you are really made of, and he was successful. None of the People would have found refuge otherwise.)
This was true, and Errno knew it. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and grasped the Stone in his grey, scaly hand.
Chapter 23: Things Best Kept Secret
The amulet remained in Errno's grasp for perhaps two blinks of an eye before he yelped and tossed it heavenward. Gaelen snatched it from the air before it could hit the ground; she didn't really know how fragile it was.
“Ow!” Errno exclaimed, looking sidelong at Gaelen. “That hurt! Don't make me hold it again.”
“Did it really hurt, or did it just startle you?” asked Gaelen. “I won't be satisfied until I know which. Therefore I'm afraid you must hold it again.”
“I won't,” said Errno, “and you can't make me!”
“Do you want to find out who the traitor is, or do you want to wait around until he sneaks up behind you and cuts your throat? Here—I'll hold the amulet, and then you hold onto my hands,” she said. “I won't let it hurt you…I promise.”
Errno trusted Gaelen, and he placed his clammy hands over hers. The power of the Stone flowed like gentle warmth through her translucent flesh. She disengaged from him, nearly gagging on his amplified stench. She managed a weak smile, hoping that he was as inept at reading her facial expressions as she was at his. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”
“Well, no…but I didn't notice any improvement of my senses, either,” said Errno.
“If you would have the power, you must endure the amulet,” said Gaelen. “Let's experience it together.”
She held it out on her upturned palm. “Take my hand,” she said. There was no room for argument in her tone, but Errno was still reluctant. Finally, Gaelen sighed, grabbed Errno's hand as would a striking cobra, and gripped it with her own. The Stone was now in full contact with both of them.
Gaelen's hand diverted much of the power, for it was naturally drawn to her rather than the still-reluctant Errno. “Now, do not block it,” Gaelen whispered. “Open your mind to it. You won't be sorry.”
Errno forced himself to relax. I trust Gaelen…she will not harm me…I am open to this power…I am not afraid.
Gradually, Gaelen let go of Errno's hand. He did not appear to notice. The amulet had pained him for a few moments, but as he began to hear and smell and taste and be aware of everything around him, the pain subsided. It was then replaced with wonderful excitement. Errno now understood what it was like to experience life through the senses of an Elf…and then some! He became aware, for example, that Gaelen was no longer holding his hand. He also heard every sound, felt every seam in his garments, and saw colors more vibrant than he had ever seen. Gaelen's eyes were impossibly deep and bright, the mossy green and warm brown so…real…they almost took on life of their own. He noticed every fold, crease, and tiny stain in her tunic. Her scent, always pleasant before, nearly transported him into ecstasy. In that brief, innocent moment he came perilously close to falling in love with her.
“Here,” he gasped, breathless, already exhausted by his greedy, runaway senses. “Take it back for now.”
Gaelen looked upon him with dismay, for there had been consequences to exposing his Outcaste body to Shandor's power. He had the slack, sallow appearance of one who has endured a long illness, with pained, weary, bloodshot eyes peering from a pale, yellowish-grey face. He appeared to have aged significantly. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize it would tire you so. Perhaps I should keep it for a while.” She turned away, trying not to let him see the alarm in her eyes.
(Gaelen? I heard them—the voices of unintended, unspoken thought. Now there is some hope!) He sank down upon the floor, drew his robes and cloak across his body like a blanket, and fell asleep at once. Gaelen regretted leaving him on the hard floor, but she did not wish to wake him. She compromised by covering him with her own cloak, despite the realization that it would probably smell like him forever. She knew she could not leave him, for he was not safe, and so she kept the watch over him, sitting silent in the shadows, her bright eyes ever alert.
She did not hear Shandor when he came in, though she felt his presence. “I'm glad you’ve come. I need guidance that only you can provide,” she said. Then she forced herself to look at him. “Please tell me I have not permanently damaged my friend Errno.”
Shandor was, as usual, of a rather icy demeanor, but the dread in Gaelen's eyes took some of the chill away. “You have not damaged him permanently, as long as he now has the strength to resist the temptations you have shown him. Did I not advise you to keep my gift to yourself?”
“Actually…not that I recall,” she said. “In fact, you said you could trust me to explore its usefulness quite thoroughly. But I'm afraid it's not going to be as useful as I had hoped.”
“Well, then I must admit my negligence,” said Shandor. “Even I didn’t appreciate the gravity of the risk in exposing the Outcastes to my power, otherwise I would have warned you. Let's take him to a safer place, at least.” He stooped down to examine Errno, who did not awaken. Shandor lifted Errno easily and strode from the chamber, forcing Gaelen to trot obediently behind him, her eyes and ears turned backward lest enemies threaten.
Shandor took Errno to see Lady Ordath, for he wanted to allow him the benefit of her healing hands. Gaelen was not surprised to find her poring over Danté’s notebook, her eyes alight in the soft glow of the candles on her study-table. The first thing she did, after examining the still-sleeping Errno, was reassure Gaelen.
“He'll be fine,” she said, to Gaelen's immense relief. “You will need to remember, little one, that your friends the Outcastes do not suffer the Light easily. Many things which are healing to others may be harmful to them. I will attempt no healing here, for it is not needed. Once Errno has rested, he will be much improved. However, he will still appear diminished for a while.”
At that moment, Rogond's tall shadow appeared, followed by Rogond himself. “Someone has summoned me here,” he said, obviously confused. “Gaelen, are you all right?”
“She is fine,” said Shandor. “I summoned you, for I sense that Gaelen would rather reveal certain matters if you are with her. Please sit with us.” Rogond sat beside Gaelen, who drew closer to him, shivering a little.
“There are matters you have revealed to me that you might wish to share with Rogond and Shandor,” said Ordath. “I’m sure they will keep our confidence.”
Gaelen told of the unknown Outcaste she had heard calling out to Koth, though he had been too far away to receive the message. She also told of the unheard voice in the council chamber, and the response of the traitorous chieftain, who was as yet unidentified. Then she told of her parley with Errno, to whom she had lent her amulet.
Rogond was taken aback as he had not known about the amulet. Gaelen drew it forth, allowing Rogond to examine it within its wrappings, and his eyes filled with wonder. “So, this is what allowed you to perceive the distant call to Koth?”
“Yes,” said Gaelen. “And I thought that by allowing Errno to have use of it he could protect himself better. My senses are quite keen enough.”
“Perhaps,” said Shandor. “I understand why you lent the amulet to Errno, but you must not do so again. He will not be able to cope with the power it conveys. My fear is not that he will be reluctant to use the amulet, but that he will desire its stimulation too much. Remember—until recently, he has lived much of his life in the dark.”
“Gaelen, you have spent more time with the chieftains than any of us. Have you gained any sense of who the traitor might be?” asked Ordath.
“I cannot say as yet…I had no suspicions at all of Rook or Ethan…and I haven't gotten to know Koreth or Vahan. I'm afraid they have all beguiled me—I would not have thought any of them capable of maintaining such a façade.”
“Both Gaelen and Errno are in danger,” said Rogond. “What do we intend to do about it? Should we imprison the chieftains, so that they can do no more harm until we discover who the traitor is?”
“Imprisoning them will not prevent their mischief,” said Gaelen. “They have minions among the People, and they will be able to speak unheard to direct them.”
Ordath considered for a moment. “Actually, imprisoning them is not a bad idea. Gaelen can listen in to their unspoken directives, and she might learn who the guilty ones are. However, I have an even better idea.”
She turned to Shandor. “This should be your task, as they are terrified of you already.” After she had explained the plan, everyone agreed that it was a good one. Shandor was actually chuckling as he made his way down to the Outcaste's underground quarters.
The chieftains, except for Errno, were summoned to the council-chamber, but this time they were not treated as delegates. They faced Shandor, Ordath, and about two dozen grim-faced guards. Shandor addressed them in the sternest possible tone. “One of you is now known to be a traitor to the People. You would undermine the success of this effort, and would betray everyone to Lord Wrothgar. We do not yet know which of you is guilty, but I assure you that we intend to find out. In addition, you are a most likely murderer.” He looked hard at Rook, Vahan, Koreth, and Ethan, who appeared equally shocked and dismayed. They snarled and bared their teeth, but none of them would look back at him.
Rook was the first to recover. “Where is Errno?” he asked, looking at Lady Ordath.
“Address your question to me!” boomed Shandor, looking about as fierce as anyone had ever seen him. Rook closed his eyes, swaying a little before opening them again. He marshaled his courage and looked Shandor directly in the eye.
“Where is Errno?”
“Errno has been murdered,” said Shandor, “probably by one of you. Or, at least, one of you knows who killed him.” His face twitched ever so slightly. “If that infernal buzzing does not stop at once, I will slay you all where you stand. It makes no difference to me—at least then I would know the traitor had been dealt with.” All unspoken thoughts ceased in an instant.
“But...at least three of us are innocent!” squeaked Ethan.
“At least one of you is a traitor. Believe me, my life will go on,” said Shandor with a curl of his lip.
“Stop this!” Ordath cried, stepping forward. “We cannot treat them this way. You know better.” She turned to the chieftains. “Lord Shandor has little use for those who would betray their own people, and he sometimes loses his sense of decorum. Make no mistake–you are in a very serious situation.” She turned back to Shandor. “We cannot kill them, but we should at least imprison them.”
“Not good enough!” said Shandor, his lip still curled with obvious scorn. “One of them must pay for the death of Errno.” He glared down at the chieftains. “It has also come to our attention that you intend to harm another member of the Council. You had better all pray that does not happen, because if it does, I will kill you all without a second thought. I will kill you whether you are guilty or not! And after I have killed you I will try, probably without much success, to convince a thousand Elves that they should not make war on a few hundred relatively helpless Outcastes! Do you understand?”
He whirled about and stalked back to his place at the table as Rook began to speak. “You know it’s wrong to hold the innocent responsible for the sins of the guilty. Please, I implore you, let us find out who the traitor is! We can govern ourselves—we have worked hard to earn that right. Errno was my friend, and this is terrible news! We never wanted to go to war; we only wanted to be left in peace. Now it seems we have as much to fear from our so-called rescuers as from our sworn enemies. Please, People of Light…you know this is wrong!”
“Enough!” said Shandor. “Take them away and place them in separate cells. Allow no visitors!” Several very formidable-looking guards laid hands on the terrified chieftains, set them in bonds, and began to lead them away. Shandor called after them: “We shall allow you to stand before us again only when you have something of importance to say.”
After they had gone, Shandor was alone with Lady Ordath, who shook her head at him. “First poor Errno, and now this? Sometimes the ease with which you deceive the unwary is unsettling. I believe you enjoy playing the terrible, judgmental tyrant far too much. When will you go to the chieftains?”
“Let them all sit in their cells and think things over for at least a day,” Shandor replied. “Tomorrow I will go to each in turn, allowing enough time between for the traitor to show himself. In the meantime, we must keep a very close watch over Gaelen. Much of our success depends on her abilities, and she will be vulnerable to attack.”
“When this is over, I believe Gaelen will have earned a respite from responsibility,” said Ordath.
“She has already earned it, but she will not receive it,” said Shandor. “This is only the beginning of another long and difficult journey, alas.”
Errno had been sequestered and warned not to cast any thoughts to anyone. It was essential to the plan that all Outcastes believe he had been killed. The traitors, who called themselves the Faithful, rejoiced, for they all knew one another, and they soon learned that none of them had killed Errno. One of the Elves had obviously committed the crime, and now the Outcastes were being falsely accused. The traitors made certain these rumors spread far and wide, generating quite a satisfactory mix of fear, doubt, grief, and indignation. (The Elves claim to be friends, but they’re not! They despise us and hold us inferior. They’ll kill us all the first chance they get…poor, misguided Errno must have turned his back on the wrong Elf.)
The Faithful lurked and awaited instructions. One part of the plan was already accomplished: Errno was dead. Yet now they were being told not to attack Gaelen, lest all four remaining chieftains—including the traitorous one—be slain. That suited them, as they were afraid of her, and she would be difficult to kill.
