Eternal Call - Chapter 2

A footfall, a shadows whisper of sound, close to her head stirred her from sleep. She kept her eyes shut and her breath slow and steady as she listened to the steps pass her by.

Five she sensed drifting into the camp. She could feel frustration from Iselan, writhing, fettered frustration. They must have bound and gagged him, keeping him from warning camp from his sentry watch. Abruptly, just before she moved her sensitive gift on to observe another, the frustration stopped.

Reaching out spidery thin threads, she heard the steady sleeping trill of Etien. Uerila and Jsiels were awake, but only Jsiels was near. The web of gift floated out in the small clearing, and she sensed revenge burning bright in the strangers, and something familiar, like a remembered aroma of earth after rain.

She had no more time to think on the peculiarity, as chaos erupted with cries rushing from the edge of sparse trees. Kiema rolled onto her feet into a crouch and viewed the feverish barrage of blade blows. Blocks abounded, small cuts let free the blood from both sides, and soon the Sedlaral were surrounded, neither side with a fallen foe to their credit. She sent out a calming vibration. While swords and daggers were still held at the ready in fists, and eyes flew warily from one to another, there was an easing of stance and a tendency towards waiting and watching.

It was now that she saw him, another Changling, but one unknown to her. That was the familiarity she had sensed, and she sent out to him, “Brother, be at peace. They have a purpose for me, and I would find it out.”

“Sister, you called and I answered. Let us take you from this. We will discover their purpose another way.” His eyes whirled blue and brown together, calm amid concern. She was kin of kind, and he had answered her desperate call when she was taken.

Kiema kept quiet and still in her crouch at the edge of the Sedlaral circle. Etien quivered beside her, his dagger held just above her head. She could take the chance and dash out towards the strangers, using the confusion that would follow to her advantage in escape. But the look on Etien’s face held sway, and she rose to her feet.

The motion brought notice to her, and one of the strangers called out, “Release the Changling and you’ll be given a fair trial.”

“Trial? Try me?!” Jsiels growled, and then spat at the strangers’ feet. With an angry hand he pulled Kiema up by her hair to stand beside him, the blade of his dagger sliding just slightly across her throat, so felt the sting of the light cut meant to show the strangers her blood. “I will send her off now if you do not let us go.”  Uerila’s disgust at her brother’s actions was palpable in the thread of gift. It soured the lovely Sedlaral face as well, but she did not say anything.

The strangers paused, uncertain for a moment until Jsiels cut the dagger deeper into her throat, but effectively away from any danger of her losing her life. He was driving the point home, in a fashion. The maneuvering worked, and the strangers stepped back slowly, sword points up away from the Sedlaral and their captive.

Etien scrambled to gather up what bits of camp he could, the things they could not leave behind while Iselan protected their departure. Kiema was dragged, half stumbling over the brush, by Jsiels as they increased their speed for the destination northward.

“She needs tending,” Iselan called to Jsiels, but there was no stopping of the flight from their brush with capture.

***

Iselan cursed the foolishness that had let him be captured and confined on sentry duty. His mind had wandered too far and freely, thinking them clear and their mission all but complete. He had heard the steps too late, but had at least brought his sense back around from the blow to his head to pretend he was out. Only in that way the attackers would leave him behind, giving him the ability to free himself and make some effort on the part of his family. Uerila had found him just as he was loosening the bindings of his wrists and cut him free.

She had not said a word to him about it. She made a nod for him to follow, and they had joined the fray as Jsiels stood to defend their camp with a quivering Etien at his side. Iselan looked to the Changling, who kept herself small, and cursed himself again for the distraction. Facing the circle of men, each well trained and armed, he had only been able to blood a few, and taken none down.

Yet when Jsiels had blooded the Changling, and she stood there so serene after the wince she revealed when he had jerked at her hair, Iselan stayed his rebuke from family loyalty and little more. He would speak to Jsiels later, but now he helped Etien gather their camp, giving him protection, though he doubted the attackers would push their chances with Jsiels obviously not just making empty threats.

Twigs and limbs snapped beneath the Changling’s stumbling feet as Jsiels continued to drag her along and falter her steps on purpose. Iselan had enough, “What are you trying to do, Jsiels? Break her ankles?”

Uerila snapped at them before Jsiels could reply, “Shut up. Jsiels, let her walk on her own.”

Jsiels gave a final shove and the Changling, Kiema, stumbled over a hidden branch. Iselan went to help her up, but she shook off his assistance just as Jsiels sent a kick to his back, “Leave off, brother. See, she does not want your help.”

But when Kiema looked up at him, he felt something in that sharing of vision. He could not describe it. There was no danger in her, he was sure of that. He had no time to think further, for his sister sent a resounding clout to his ear. “Don’t let her look in your eyes. She’ll bewitch you.”

Iselan covered his ear, the pain swift in its sharpness, but a dull ache still pervaded. What he had not expected was the laugh from the Changling as she got her feet, “If you think that’s how it works, then it is no wonder you think me a demon.” He watched her test the surety of her ankles and feet, rocking from balls of her feet to heels while shaking her skirts free.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jsiels warned. “We should gag her.”

“Please do, and while you’re at it, gag yourself,” She actually tore a strip from her skirt and offered it to Jsiels.

Uerila looked suspiciously at the cloth held out to her brother, then scoffed, “Put that away. It will make no difference if you are so eager to give in to it.”

“You had better take it anyway, just so you know I am not using it to mark a trail,” and she set it in Jsiels hand, whose mouth curled with distaste as if he had just been touched by something horrible.

He passed the strip of cloth to Iselan, “Here, you probably will make some token out of it.”

Iselan took it, folded it easily, and tucked into a pouch, “No, I’m just smart enough not to fear cloth.”

Jsiels threw a punch at his face, and Iselan blocked it easily. Jsiels just scowled and walked on. “Let us go.”

***

Keima touched the sticky crusting of blood rimming the edge of the cut to her throat. “When we stop for a rest, we will clean your cut.” Iselan offered quietly from a step behind.

Careful of her steps, she smiled politely to him, “Thank you.”

She spared an extra glance to him as he passed by, and felt the trembling of curiosity once more along the thread of gift she always kept tied to him. He was her sure key to possibly understanding more of his people and this mission. A glance was all she could afford as her ankles were still uncertain after the recent abuse. Not only the twisting and bruising of being dragged and pushed had deteriorated her sure steps, but also the scrapes and cuts around her calves where twigs and small rocks had left their touch in her flesh.

Not accustomed to needing her attention fully on the ground before her, it was not long before her mind began to tug that attention away to thoughts and questions it wanted to dwell upon. The puzzle of the Sedlaral intentions for her was a great mystery. Jsiels had proven his lack of limits in the confrontation this morning. He would kill her if he felt his mission was going to fail. A mission to take her somewhere, but where? And more importantly why?

They must have been looking specifically for her; tracked her from her start from town, maybe even before. So what made her different from any other Changling? She traveled further than most, so perhaps she was merely convenient. That answer rang false and curved her mouth down for a beat. No, there was more to this than such random selection based on ease. Besides, the appearance of another Changling so swiftly after the abduction means she is not the only Changling in the area. If they just wanted any Changling, why not one from here? Not only that, but the Sedlaral have more cunning intent.

In her last dealings with them, five years ago now, it had taken all her skills and training of her then nineteen years to complete the objective set for her by the Circelus. Her presence her was a conscious choice.

“We will rest here,” Uerila’s announcement broke into her thoughts.

Jsiels scouted further on with Etien as Uerila approached looking narrowly at the cut to Kiema’s throat. “Sit down,” she said unceremoniously. Her look offered no room for conversation, or even polite thanks once the ministrations were done. In their silence, Kiema watched her efficiently, but gently work to clean the cut and dab salve onto the wound with a small bottle. The salve smelled of resin and herbs.

Iselan watched from a lean against a nearby tree. He, like his siblings, had a presence of certain strength, and an alien, angular beauty. But unlike them, behind mottled eyes of brown and green, was questioning. Uerila defined her every act with purpose and distinct rightness. There was no unguarded moment revealed in any glance of her eyes. Etien was all indecision, but not about what they were doing, just how to do it. He looked at her little, and only watched the doings of his mother and Uncle Jsiels. Jsiels, as ever, just seethed with resentment. His very being thrummed in discord with her, the situation, and his duty.

***

“Have you found the call, Perienas?”  The languid, passive echoing of her voice came to him like the ocean breeze upon his face.

He stirred from his meditation and struggled to his feet.  She did not move to assist him.  He had not expected her to, such things would be beyond her perception.  Her call had not come from him, so it was not his needs that she would answer.  Oh, how she did those years ago, though.  His memory of that night burned forever true in his mind.  That is not now, and he steadied before her, “It is of some distance.”

“We shall travel then.  If you prefer, I will take Luieni to assist me.”

Perienas’s brows rose.  Did she perceive him after all?  Was she aware of him beyond his purpose in this calling?  She approached him, her hand as gentle upon his cheek as it was in his memory, and kissed his forehead, “I remember as well.  You had great need then, but you do not need me now.”

“I will serve you, Mearien.  I am not yet too weak to go.”  He would not lose her to another just yet; not while there was breath in his lungs.

She turned from him and called over her shoulder as dismissively as a high queen to a lowly kitchen page, “We leave soon.  Prepare for our travel.”