The Legend of Broken

part of the Bane tribe, and will continue to do so, if we do not act quickly. So believe that our hearts are with you, Keera, and believe, as well, that you three foragers must now undertake a task that offers our only hope, not only of stopping the spread of this malevolent sickness, but of avenging the dead.”

At this, Keera lifts her face and turns to the Elders; then, slowly, she takes her brother’s and her friend’s comforting hands from her shoulders, and walks a few steps forward, approaching the Groba’s council table while constantly clinging tight to little Effi. She wipes at her face with a sleeve, and musters the strength to ask, “But — how is that possible, Father?” And then she adds, with humble skepticism, “We are only foragers.”

“Your brother and Heldo-Bah may be nothing more,” the Father replies. “But you are the best of our trackers, Keera, a true mistress of the Wood. No one has traveled as deeply into its southwestern reaches as you have — and it is there that we must now ask you to go again.”

And for the first time, a faint light of hope seems to dawn amid the wasteland that is Keera’s face, and to put the smallest gleam of comprehension back into her terribly deadened eyes.

But it is Veloc who speaks: “Your pardon, Father, but — why? You see what this disease has already done to my sister, to her family — how can you ask her to leave them again?”

“See how he avoids service,” declares the High Priestess. “Truly, this is not the party to send. The two men should fight with the warriors, not avoid the dangers yet to come. And the woman should be allowed to be near her children, when they come to face death.”

Heldo-Bah, whose eyes have been studying first Keera, and then the Groba, begins to smile. He turns to the Priestess, with a look that would, under other circumstances, provoke combat between himself and the Outragers. “But there is no other party to send, O Divine Trough of Lunar Grace,” he says, the falseness of his deferential tone now transparent. “Am I not correct, Father?”

The Father nods, then looks to the High Priestess and her Sisters. “Do not think that they escape danger by undertaking this task. Indeed, theirs may well be the gravest danger of all—” He looks to Keera again. “And more important than any battle of armies.”

All five of the Elders are examining Keera, Heldo-Bah, and Veloc, in turn; they are pleased to find comprehension in the first two, and are ready to wait for it to strike the third.

Soon enough, it does: “Caliphestros!” Veloc declares.

Heldo-Bah’s grin widens, as he looks at the Priestess; and his eyes speak eloquently of how badly she has lost this encounter. “Yes,” he says, giving voice to his quiet but pointed triumph. “Caliphestros …”

“Indeed,” the Father declares, giving the Priestess one final glance, as if to say: And so, be still — there are no other possibilities. Then, aloud, he repeats the appellation a third time: “Caliphestros …”

For several moments, all in the chamber sit still, absorbing the name with obvious dread. The Outragers, in particular, seem swept up in the superstitious fear that has been instilled in Bane children for the last two-score years, that to speak of the man — if man he is! — heightens the chance that he will come to one’s bed, of a night, to sweep the unfortunate victim’s spirit away …

Finally, it is Veloc who brings practical considerations back to the fore: “But, Father — it is true that we once saw his dwelling, or what we thought was his dwelling. But that journey was long, and largely the result of accidents. It nearly killed us, as well, and—”

“And it can be repeated.” It is Keera speaking, now, and her voice is regaining strength. “I can find the place again.”

Veloc moves up to stand with his sister. “But, Keera — we do not even know if he is alive.”

“Perhaps not,” Keera replies. “But if there is even a chance …”

“And what of the children?” Veloc insists, although it is clearly for Keera’s benefit: he does not yet trust that she is thinking clearly, and would not have her commit to an undertaking that will later cause her more grief and guilt. “Don’t you want to stay—”

“There is nothing we can do, Veloc,” Keera replies. “Nothing, save this. The healers will not let me near Herwin and Baza, and likely cannot save either of my sons. And Effi will be safe — our parents can mind her, until we return.” Exhausted little Effi quietly objects to this notion, but Keera calms her.

“Listen to your sister, Veloc,” Heldo-Bah says, continuing to smile at the High Priestess. “This is our only hope — to fight the sorcery of the Tall with the Tall’s greatest sorcerer.”

Veloc has not quite conceded: “But the disease spreads so quickly. How long will we have to succeed, before our efforts become meaningless?”

“Only the Tall can answer that with any certainty, Veloc,” says the Father. “We believe they mean to attack, once the disease has weakened us sufficiently; what they have not counted upon is that our healers believe that they can, at least, control the disease’s spread, by separating the healthy from the ill, and above all by burning the dead. Hastily.” This last word causes Keera to wince; and, seeing as much, the Father continues: “I regret such blunt words, Keera. It is not an easy thought, I know, and I wish I could tell you that time will make it easier. But the only thing that can ease our suffering is precisely what Heldo-Bah says — we must fetch the greatest sorcerer that ever walked among the Tall, to undo the deadly work of the kingdom he once served.” The father sits, taking a sheet of parchment and scribbling on it with a quill. “There is no more specific order we can give you. Make what preparations you must, take whatever supplies you need. This—” he rolls his completed document, and holds it out to Heldo-Bah, “will give you full authority. You will want for nothing — but do not abuse the privilege, Heldo- Bah.”

“And, in the name of the Moon—” The Priestess, having conceded the point of who will go on this vital journey, feels the need to at least attempt to assert herself a final time: “Try to show greater faith than you have in the past. The life of the tribe may well depend upon it.”

Keera’s head snaps about, to give the Priestess a hateful glower. “Some of us, Divine One, have already learned that.”

It is yet another impertinence, and the Priestess thinks to protest. But a firm look from the Groba Father repeats the warning he must not voice aloud: You have said enough — be still. He turns again to the foragers.

“Go, now,” he says, “and take our heartfelt prayers with you.”

The same Elder who guided them into the Den now rises to escort the foragers back out. Veloc puts an arm around Keera and Effi, and gently tries again to ascertain, as they go through the passageway, whether or not Keera truly has the strength for this undertaking. This leaves Heldo-Bah to walk behind them with the Elder; and it is an awkward moment for the forager. He does not speak the language of polite Bane society, nor indeed of any polite society; and yet, for reasons he cannot precisely define, he wishes to express his respect and sympathy for the man. He waits until they pass through the antechamber and emerge into the day. The Elder comes to a halt just outside the cave’s mouth, and Heldo-Bah faces him.

“Thirty years,” he says awkwardly, scratching at his beard. “A long time, to be with one woman.” The Elder’s pain becomes apparent; but he also seems baffled. “Long time to be with anyone, really,” Heldo-Bah continues. But it is no use — he has no talent for saying what he wishes in a proper manner; and so he drops the guise, smiles, and says, “Don’t worry, old fellow—” Then he pulls his shirt sleeve over his hand and, inexplicably, rubs the top of the Elder’s bald pate. “We’re going to find that bloody sorcerer for you — and you’ll have your justice!”

“Stop that — Heldo-Bah!” The Elder takes hold of the forager’s arm, and pushes it away with surprising strength, staring at Heldo-Bah in shock; and yet, possibly because he understands that some small kernel of compassion lies at the heart of the forager’s bizarre behavior, he does not reproach him, other than to say, “At times I do believe you really are mad …”

But Heldo-Bah is already hurrying down the pathway to catch his friends, who have stopped to retrieve their sacks — no easy task, as Ashkatar is atop them, stealing some desperately needed and richly deserved snippets of sleep, while intermittently waking to ensure that the crowd of angry Bane does not gather again. He bolts upright when he hears the Elder call out:

“Yantek Ashkatar!”

Ashkatar gets himself righted, with help from Heldo-Bah and Veloc. “Elder?” he shouts.

“The Groba will see you now!”

Ashkatar has not gone half a dozen steps before he stops and turns back to Keera. “You have accepted the commission?”