The Last of the Wilds

“My people are content to follow Huan,” the king told them. “But we also understand that the new can be seductive, and that even small religious disagreements among a people can cause strife. I must also ask that you do not attempt to convert any Elai, neither by endeavoring to teach the ways of your gods, nor by granting any request for such lessons.”

“My people will keep their practices to themselves,” Imenja assured him.

Reivan managed to stop herself glancing at Imenja in surprise. She touched the pendant around her neck.

:If you agree to that, Nekaun will not see much value in this treaty.

:No, but he will see, in time, that the more forbidden something is, the more certain individuals will want it.

“I have my own restriction to place on this treaty,” Imenja said aloud.

The king’s eyebrows rose. “Yes?”

“Certain of my people at home have expressed concern that your people might seek to rob traders, either by waiting until raiders have attacked merchant ships before attacking the raiders themselves, or by attacking traders directly. I have assured them that you will not, but they want your promise on this.”

“They have my word that any of my warriors found to be indulging in such practices will be punished.”

Imenja bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Change ‘warrior’ to ‘Elai’ and specify the punishment and they will be satisfied. And also note that, if we discover your people have begun preying upon non-raiders in this manner, this treaty will be considered broken by my people.”

The king nodded. “That is reasonable.”

Imenja held his eyes. “I will learn of it,” she told him. “In the same way I learned that the merchant who bought Imi from the raiders was guilty, and your warriors were following my ship, and that there is a second entrance to your city, where watchers keep a lookout for raiders. What I cannot see with the Skills the gods have given me, they tell me of themselves. I will know if your people turn into thieves.”

The king’s frown slowly faded as he realized what she was saying. He turned to Imi, who suddenly looked a little frightened. The girl straightened.

“I told you she was a sorcerer,” Imi said to her father.

“But you didn’t know this,” he muttered.

She shook her head.

The king turned back to Imenja and narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you won’t return with more ships and take my city?”

Imenja smiled. “I have no interest in taking your city. Not only is it too great a distance from my home, but what use would an underground city the size of an Avven village be to us? I can see the value of trade, and of keeping these seas safe for it.

“We both have taken a risk in doing this,” she continued. “For you, it is trusting that we have no interest in harming your people. For us, it is that you won’t turn what we teach you to ill use. I think it worth the risk.”

The king nodded. “I had my doubts. I admit I still have them. But my people cannot remain as they are, and they are willing to take this risk.”

He turned to the man behind him. Reivan saw that one of the stone slabs was covered in Elai writing. “Bring them forth and we shall watch you carve our words into promises.” He looked at Imenja. “We will set down our treaty in both languages.”

“And in the manner of both peoples,” Imenja agreed. She glanced at Reivan. Nodding at the unspoken order, Reivan opened the oilskin bag and drew out parchment, ink and a board to write against.

“That will never survive the water,” the Elai scribe murmured.

Reivan smiled and drew out a message tube, oilskin wrapping, wax and a coil of rope. “Yes it will,” she assured him.

He looked unconvinced. With a shrug, Reivan settled cross-legged on the sand and began to write.

Between Mirar and the thin spread of trees at the edge of the forest was a smooth, steep blanket of snow. The easiest way to descend would be to cross back and forth, he decided. Going straight down would make it hard to keep his footing.

Would that be such a bad thing? he asked himself. It might be faster to slide. He looked at the trees below. Though smaller than those deep within the forest, their trunks were just as hard. Sliding out of control and in a flurry of snow, he might not get a clear view of his path. He might not see a tree in time to use magic to stop himself crashing into it.

Yes, he told himself. That would be a bad thing.

Looking back up at the mountain, he sighed. Few times in his long life had he ventured into such high, inhospitable places, and always in the company of others. The views had been breathtaking, but the way had been treacherous in places. It had taken mere brute magical force to get out of the buried cave, but avoiding falling into snow-covered crevasses had been a much greater challenge.

Starting out across the open slope, he moved slowly. The snow was lightly packed but not deep. It cascaded down the slope at each step. Halfway across, he paused to look around.

After a moment he realized he was still moving. The whole slope was moving.

His heart skipped a beat then began to race. The smooth surface began to ruck and ripple. The instinct to flee turned him around and sent him hurrying back, but his path was all but obscured as snow above it folded over the snow below.

It tangled his legs. He struggled to stay upright and failed. As he landed on his side and began to slide, snow swept over him like breaking waves.

Don’t panic, he told himself. It’ll just carry me to the bottom. The only danger is suffocation and those trees below.

Drawing magic, he surrounded himself with a barrier, adding extra space around his face so he could breathe. He felt himself hurtling downward. Then his descent abruptly slowed and he stopped. Snow covered him. The weight of it against his barrier grew.

I’m being buried.

Memories of being crushed flashed into his mind. From somewhere deep within a terror began to rise. He fought it, forcing himself to breathe slowly. The pressure on his barrier felt powerful enough to crush him. If he lost concentration for one moment the barrier would fall and...

Why not let it?

A numbness began to replace fear.

Why not let go of this life? Find out what’s beyond. The gods’ servants might find and kill you in a few weeks, when you reach the coast. Why let them do the deed? Die here and deny them the satisfaction. Imagine how they will always wonder where you got to...

The cold of the snow was nothing compared to this empty despair.

What’s there to live for? My people are dwindling, and I can’t let them know me without endangering their lives. The woman I love is as far from my reach as any could be. This is the Age of the Five, and I have no place in it. I should just...

“Stop being so bloody melodramatic,” he said aloud.

Closing his eyes, he pulled a great stream of magic into himself, then channelled it. There was a dull boom. The whiteness above him flew upward and fragmented to all sides. As it pattered down around him he sat up and looked at his surroundings.

He now lay in the middle of a large crater. Standing up, he climbed one side of it and turned back to regard his handiwork. The hole was quite impressive. He smiled.

Then a shadow streaked past his own and his smile faded. Looking up, he glimpsed two Siyee gliding away.

Sighing, he turned away and began trudging toward the forest.

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