The hill lurched violently, throwing Ashinji and Magnes to their knees. Acorns rained on their heads as dust billowed in a choking cloud. Screams of terror rent the air. Coughing, eyes tearing, Ashinji crawled to the edge of the grove and stared in disbelief at the scene below.
Tree roots, flailing like the tentacles of a maddened sea creature, had burst from the earth to attack the slave-catchers.
Ashinji watched in horrified fascination as a root the thickness of a man’s arm whipped around the posse leader’s neck and ripped him from his plunging mule. The man struggled and tore at the unrelenting wood, his bulging eyes wild with terror. His face flushed purple before turning gray as his kicks and twists became weaker. Finally, he dangled like a broken puppet, his tongue protruding grotesquely from his mouth.
A second, then a third man each met the same fate.
The others did not wait to witness the final death throes of their comrades. Even as the three victims swung above their heads, they wheeled their panicked horses and fled. None of them looked back.
Dizzy with shock, Ashinji backed away from the slope and rose on shaky legs.
“Goddess,” he whispered through dry lips.
“Ashi! There’s more coming up the back!” Magnes shouted.
Too late, Ashinji remembered the posse had split up to surround them.
He whirled in time to see three men charge into the grove from the far side of the hill, swords raised. They ran straight for Gran, who remained locked in a trance, unable to move.
“Seijon, no!” Ashinji screamed. He flung himself after the boy, straining to catch him but even as he did so, he knew he would fail.
Magnes reached the men first, barreling into them like a charging bull, knocking one man flat and sending the second one stumbling to his knees. He pinned the fallen man and started pummeling his face with his fists. The third man twisted aside and lunged for Gran.
Seijon, brandishing a tree branch, leapt in his path just as the slaver’s sword swept around in a glittering arc. The blade sliced through the wood and cut across the boy’s body, sending a spray of blood into the air.
Seijon fell without a sound.
Without warning, a terrible pressure grew within Ashinji’s head, just behind his eyes. With a shout of rage, he loosed it like a taut bowstring. The recoil knocked him flat on his back.
Seijon’s killer burst into flames.
The man dropped his sword and staggered in an erratic circle, shrieking, until he finally collapsed. Acrid smoke filled the grove with the stench of burnt flesh. The two men whom Magnes had knocked to the ground had regained their feet. The one Magnes had beaten leaned like a drunk against his comrade, his face slick with gore. Both men raised their hands above their heads.
“Please, don’t kill us!” the injured man croaked.
Ashinji rose to his feet and without thinking, loosed another bolt of energy. The slave catcher flew through the air then smashed into a tree trunk with a meaty thud. His body slid to the ground, broken and lifeless. Howling with terror, the remaining slaver whirled and bolted away from Ashinji, running hard for the edge of the grove. Magnes lunged but his fingers closed on empty air.
“Let him go!” Ashinji cried. Sick with horror, he stumbled toward where Seijon’s body lay and sank to his knees.
The sword had sheared open the boy’s belly, making a ruin of his innards. Death had come swiftly. Ashinji drew in a shuddering breath and gently lifted Seijon’s head to cradle it in his lap.
The boy’s half-open eyes and parted lips made him look as if he had one last thing he needed to say. Ashinji stared into the small face-so pale and still-trying to dredge up from the darkest place in his soul a spark to re- ignite the rage that had called down fire to destroy a man, but he couldn’t. The fire had burnt out, leaving only sorrow and bitter regret in its stead.
“This is my fault,” he whispered. “I should never have allowed you to come with us. If I’d made you stay behind, you’d still be alive.” Hot tears sliced through the dirt on his face. The air in the grove had grown thick and oppressive, as if it had become saturated with Ashinji’s grief and could hold no more.
“No, Ashi. You can’t blame yourself for this. Seijon knew the risks when he begged you to take him with us.” Magnes came up and knelt beside the body.
“He was only a child!” Ashinji brushed a strand of hair off Seijon’s forehead. “How could he possibly have known? It was my job to protect him, and I failed.”
“It was all of our jobs, Ashi,” Gran rasped. She had emerged from her trance and now stood behind him, and when Ashinji turned to look up into her face, he gasped with dismay. The light and strength that had always been a part of her had burnt out, and at any moment, she might crumble into ashes.
“Gran, please, you must sit down!”
The old woman shook her head. “No. If I sit now, I’ll not be able to get up again. I must keep moving, at least until we’ve cared for the boy and left this place.”
“I promised Seijon I’d get him to Alasiri. How am I going to keep that promise now?” Ashinji shook his head and a tear fell to splash on Seijon’s bloodless cheek.
“Back in ancient times, oak groves were sacred to our people,” Gran replied. “It will be a fitting resting place for the boy. Take a lock of his hair, Ashi, and bury it when we reach home. That way, you can keep your promise, at least in a small way.”
His gaze never straying from Seijon’s face, Ashinji tried to rise, but could not make his legs obey. Sudden, crushing weariness had pinned him to the earth.
“Gran, something’s wrong with me.” He had to struggle to lift his head to look at the mage. “I feel so tired.”
“You expended a lot of energy doing what you did, Ashi.” Gran squeezed his shoulder. “You are young. It won’t take you nearly as long to recover. Rest awhile before you and Magnes take care of the boy.”
“I’ll get started.” Magnes bent to retrieve a sword dropped by one of the slavers. “This will make digging easier.”
He walked to the nearest tree and began scraping at the hard soil between two of the twisted roots fanning out from its base. Ashinji watched for a few moments then struggled to his feet.
“I’m all right,” he said in response to the consternation in Gran’s eyes, but in truth, he wondered how much longer he could keep moving. Focusing his mind on the task at hand, he managed to dredge up a reserve of strength left untouched by the flow of magic. Scooping up another discarded sword, he joined Magnes and together they chopped into the stubborn earth. The labor kept Ashinji’s mind off the part he had played in the destruction of the slave catching posse.
When they judged the depression deep enough, Ashinji and Magnes threw down their swords. Ashinji bent to gather up Seijon’s torn body in his arms. Carrying the boy as gently as if he were sleeping, Ashinji then laid Seijon into the grave. With Gran’s small belt knife, he severed a lock of the boy’s russet hair then he and Magnes covered the body, first with a webbing of branches and then a fill of soil and small rocks. To finish things off, they veiled the top in a thick covering of dead leaves. Magnes piled a small cairn of stones to serve as a marker.
When they were done, the three of them lingered beneath the spreading limbs of the ancient tree, loathe to depart, yet knowing they must. To Ashinji’s heart, it felt like abandonment, even though his head knew the folly of that notion. Seijon was dead and beyond any feelings of abandonment. Even though the boy had been born on the streets of Darguinia and knew very little of the elven religion, it comforted Ashinji to believe the Goddess would recognize one of Her own and gather the boy’s soul into Her eternal, loving embrace.
“Goodbye, Little Brother,” Ashinji whispered. “I’m so very sorry.”
Wordlessly, Magnes helped Gran up on her mare, then mounted his piebald gelding and waited. Ashinji twisted the lock of Seijon’s hair into a knot and held it out to Gran who tucked it into her waist pouch. He then swung on his horse and the three of them left the grove behind, riding down the side of the hill through the grisly aftermath of Gran’s magical defense. It would be several days before the terrorized remnant of the slave posse
