Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (21 page)

If only I’d insisted –
they would have taken me. Seara stamped her foot and inadvertently a growl of
frustration escaped her lips.

     Now the novice-priest
Olaff had arrived and she realised he was sent by Jadde to help. So late into
the night Seara made plans. She would persuade him to continue his search for
Malkrin – and to take her. It would be an adventure, especially with someone
else her age. But the dangers were not to be underestimated. What if they ran
into quarter-men? She thought the best course of action would be to run.
Apparently that was something Olaff was particularly good at.

There was captivation in his
eyes; he could be easily persuaded to allow her to join him. Would he, or she for
that matter, be a good enough hunter to provide food to sustain them?  She would
find out soon enough once they had left Brightwater.

Seara buzzed with
excitement. All those people out there, all the strange customs and strange
villages – so much to see and so many really interesting people to meet.

     She decided to show
him the maps tomorrow and use them to persuade him. After all, if they kept to
the paths she had traced between the different peoples’ lands they surely could
not get lost.  And somewhere along the route they would come across her father
and Malkrin. She would really surprise them and they’d be pleased to see her
and would hug her.

And she needed to be there
to console Malkrin when he learnt of the death of his wife. And when consoling,
she could heal him and make him greater and more able to take on the burden
that Olaff said awaited for him in Cyprusnia. She had filled her highsense with
healing tricks learnt recently in the Brightwater villages and looked forward
to using them on someone extra special – she was convinced that would be
Malkrin.

The morning light streamed
into the sparsely furnished room through the small yellow glazed opening. Olaff
woke then shielded his eyes from the magnified sunlight. Had Seara thought him
rude and inhospitable when he had fallen asleep before her: he really hoped
not?

He washed and prepared for
the day. Someone had been in the room while he slept and left a tray of fruit
and bread and a jug of fruit flavoured water for his breakfast. He hoped he had
had the bed covers firmly drawn over himself as he slept. Then he hoped he had
not snored as his parents had claimed.

     Olaff refused to
continue doubting himself and asked Jadde to ensure he made the correct
decisions. Then relaxed, he ravenously munched the food. He had just finished
when a knock came on the door. He adjusted his clothes hoping he would see the
face that kept interrupting his thought, and seconds later Seara stood there
with an expression that matched the sun.

     'Come on lazy-bones,
I've something to show you.’ She grasped his hand and took him to the Lighthouse
Library to see Praled. Olaff noticed the old man dropped the script he was
taking notes from and rushed over, completely under Seara's spell. Strangely,
it made Olaff angry.

     ‘
Praled,
show Olaff that magic needle you used with my map.'

     The old man smiled,
'It’s an old family heirloom my father gave me when I reached the age of
majority, as his father did the same for him. So I will loan it to you. I know
what you have in mind Seara. I also know I cannot stop you.'

     'Yes, yes, but the
magic needle will help if we get lost, so that'll make us safe won't it?'

     'Well you prove you
know how to use it and then perhaps I'll agree.'

     Praled handed over a small
tarnished oval box with a cracked glass top and a plaited cord through an
eyelet in the top. Seara reached into a cubbyhole full of rolled scripts and
pulled out a recently made and less grubby document. She unrolled it and placed
it on a table with polished pebble weights to hold down the corners.

     ‘Look at this Olaff,’
she pointed proudly.

He bent over and saw an intricate
map. It was only the second he'd ever seen. The first, Sire Josiath had shown
him in the priest’s library. It had been of Cyprusnia and was very old with
very neat writing all over it. This one was scruffily hand written and looked
crude in comparison. He looked closer. It was reasonably detailed and showed
intersecting paths along rivers and through woodland, contours were also
indicated. Four black dots suggested villages and tribal boundaries were
sketched in red. He looked at the bottom and saw in red ink the name ‘Seara’
and realised she had copied this map from another source.

Olaff looked to the top
right corner; he had seen the same strange emblem before. It had been on the priest’s
map, and was composed of a circle with a thin cross and the letters N, E, S,
and W labelled. The symbol looked out of place and he pointed to it. He was
about to ask Seara its meaning when she placed the round glass container next
to the symbol.

All that came out of his
throat was, ‘errrr’. He clamped his jaws closed in embarrassment. He looked
back to the map aware that his cheeks were reddening again.

It had the same faded
letters within the box and a small needle waved and danced within.

     'This is called a
compuss Olaff,' Seara began, 'it's used to indicate which direction you should
travel in, in relation to the map. The needle points always to this position of
North.’ She showed him on the map symbol.

     'North? You mean the
symbol N stands for the first letter of north.’

     'You’re doing well,’
Seara squeezed his arm and Olaff leaped back as if bitten.

     'Sorry.' She carried
on teaching him as if nothing had happened.

     Olaff looked for Praled.
He had resumed transcribing his script to cover a sad look.

     Ten minutes later
Olaff had the theory of map reading and exclaimed excitedly.

     'The map will be
really useful . . . thanks Seara.'

     'Good, that’s one Jadde-star
to me,' she laughed and clasped her hands together delightedly. Olaff thought
she saw everything as a light-hearted challenge to win favour for herself and
wondered why.

     Seara leapt up, and
excitedly squealed words at him, 'well, can we make use of this map and compuss?’

     'Compass,' Praled
shouted a correction without looking up.

     'Sorry. Compass.
Olaff – compass.'

     He nodded, but something
nagged him; she had said ‘we’.

     'You can't come . . .
I . . . must travel alone.' He hoped he sounded convincing.

     'Two people can
combine two ideas, and are better than one person with only one idea,’ Seara
argued.

     'But . . . it is
dangerous . . . Quarter-men?'

     ‘Two people can hunt
game and then while one keeps a lookout the other cooks the food.’

     ‘It is dangerous.’

     'Not if we stick to
the well used paths. We will have two lots of eyes to look in two directions at
once. Two chances to spot danger.’

     Olaff kept quiet so she
tried a different persuasion. ‘I've spoken to the Wolf warriors guarding the demon
and they say BerantWolf would always stay on the sacred route even if he's returning.
This sacred route will be safer and clearer to follow.'

     'I must go alone,' it
felt as if his chest was crumbling and spilling out his new love. He could
hardly bear it; but her safety was paramount and he could not guarantee it if
she was with him.

     'I'm sorry Seara . .
. I must go alone . . . I've discovered the world is . . . an infinitely more
dangerous place than I'd realised . . . since leaving Cyprusnia . . . I'm
sorry.'

Her face reddened with
eyes full of fire that threatened to melt him. With fists clenched her whole
body went completely rigid and she growled in frustration.

It had been one of the
longest, but most important statements he had ever made. He gathered his
resolve and repeated, 'I'm sorry.'

     Seara emitted a huge
sigh like a sudden gust in a gale, and stormed from the library slamming the
door on the way out.

     Praled turned to
Olaff. 'Wisely said young man, I'm afraid Seara always sees good in everything.
It is her way of masking the evil out there – you had no choice.'

     Olaff nodded in
thanks. He had to leave straight away, any further delay could have serious
consequences if Seara accosted him again.

     'Thanks Praled . . .
can I . . . have the map?'

     'Take it, I’ll tell
her you have it. It should be of consolation to her. Good luck young priest.'

     Olaff grabbed the map
and rolled it as he rushed through the door and down the steps to get his backpack.

Ten minutes later he was
running across the Lighthouse Bridge. Without a backward glance he resumed the
well trodden trail toward the lands of the Sylve.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

A
s
the sun set Olaff consulted Seara’s map and ran to make use of the last hours
of daylight. Later he passed the War-bird shrine that Seara had clearly marked
with a question mark beneath the name. Strange, not even a likeness of Jadde or
her bird, he thought as he ran past, and didn’t give it another thought.

He found rocks with a central
space containing an overhanging tree for the night’s shelter. Having removed an
arrow from a rabbit, he settled down to cook the animal over a sheltered
camp-fire. With his stomach full he looked at Seara's beautifully traced map to
judge his progress. His eyes misted so much he had to return it to his pack and
force his resolve to return. Malkrin had to be found without her holding him
up. I’m not returning to Brightwater; that is final, he told himself and
concentrated on turning the rabbit over the flames. Later feeling better with
his stomach full he drew the sleeping fur around him and settled down for the
night.

     Suddenly he was awake
from a hunter’s light sleep, and grabbed his bow. Was it an owl hoot that had
just awoken him or something else? He looked at the moon – about one hour to
sunrise. He had slept well and felt refreshed. But his father’s hunter-instinct
filled him; something was out there. He was being stalked, probably by a wild
cat or a wolf. A faint rustle in a thicket of shrubs beyond his rock enclosed
camp told him something large stalked there. The owl hooted and flapped into
the night. His eyes momentarily followed it past the nearly full moon. Pale
light spread a colourless glow to the surrounding hillside and trees as he silently
removed his bow and notched an arrow. Another slight crunch registered
instantly. The rustle moved silently uphill and to the right. He kept his eyes
away from the camp-fire embers so as not to ruin his night-vision and crept out
of the circle of rocks.

     There was a clear
view back to his camp. He re-notched the arrow and waited.

     In the unlit shadows
a shape glided through the undergrowth, it was a large creature and moved in
fast rushes. It rose to look around, and then stooped.

Silently he circled behind
it, his suspicions aroused. He was not one to feel anger but in this case he
felt his fists clench as he shouldered his bow. He rushed forward silently,
bent down to grasp the creature as it prepared to crawl forward.

     He grabbed a leg from
behind and the creature fell.

‘Get off me.’ Her scream filled
the night.

     ‘Shut up – it’s me,'
he whispered urgently.

     Seara lay panting in
fright.

     ‘Idiot, don't sneak
up on me like that. I was trying to make sure it was you up there.’

     'I said . . . you
couldn't come.’

     'And I knew I could –
so here I am,' she unveiled her most persuasive smile.

     ‘How . . . are you
going to keep up . . . with me? I can't slow down.'

     'You won't have to,
I'll be just behind, you'll see.'

     Olaff sighed
resignedly, she was here and it was too late to make a scene. It couldn't be
undone and he knew what would happen if he tried to send her back. He thought
for a moment of deliberately running faster than her ability to keep up – but
that was cruel and he couldn't do that to her. He'd have to slow down and
pretend he was running at his best speed so that he could look after her. It
would just have to put more time on his quest.

     So much for his
resolve.

Then a hope flared bright;
maybe they would meet the warriors on their return journey and it would mean he
would cover less distance. The thought seemed to provide a partial resolution
and it cheered him. Then Olaff realised he felt cheerful because Seara was
there with him, and that cheered him more.

     'All right, come to
my fire,’ he said resignedly. ‘You must be starving. I've some rabbit and
oatcake left.'

     She reached over,
grabbed his arm in delight and pecked his cheek.

     'I knew you wouldn't
be angry.’ Seara held his arm all the way to his fire. 'I started an hour after
you and guessed where you were from the glow of the fire.'

     He smiled, but
resolved to only light a fire in a more secluded location next time – if Seara
could find him so easily then so could a quarter-man.

     After sunrise he sat
waiting for her to awaken. She must still be exhausted after travelling and
searching for him well into the night, he thought. Finally she woke and insisted
she bathe in the nearby stream. He studiously looked the other way. They ate a
light meal and Seara was finally ready. He kept a moderate pace and was
surprised she kept up easily, so he sped up.

     'Come on Mister Tortoise
is this the best you can do,' she taunted in that laughing voice he loved to
hear. He increased speed again and glanced behind, she was beginning to pant
and beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead. He slowed a little and
she kept up. They followed the path over undulating hills and through small
stands of woodland, forded streams of variable depths and ran through shadowed copses
thick with leaf mould. The sound of falling water grew steadily louder and they
reached a rickety rope-bridge suspended over a fast torrent.

     Olaff let Seara rest and
tried to find their location on the map before negotiating the flimsy span.

     'We should reach
Sylva tomorrow,' Seara estimated and Olaff silently agreed.

     After some
refreshment they negotiated the bridge one at a time, fearing it would not take
them both. Then they ran along a wide path until sundown. Olaff told her the
kind of secluded hollow he was looking for and spotted the ideal spot before
her. He smiled as she conceded defeat good-naturedly, again she had treated the
search as a challenge she wanted to win.

     'It’s one Jadde-star
each now,' she announced. For the first time he decided stopping her
accompanying him was the wrong decision.

     They both slept the
sleep of the dead. It was only when Olaff awoke to the fresh dew scented
morning that he realised Seara was snuggled up to him in her warm sleeping fur.
The scent of her hair was intoxicating and her sleeping face looked so innocent
and uncaring. He did not dare move lest he awaken her. The sun appeared over
the rim of their hollow and he drifted into a luxurious dream involving a
normal life in Cyprusnia with Seara and a cosy home.

     Olaff woke again to
the smell of cooking. Seara had been up and working, the smell of food greeted
his senses. He found a rainwater pool beyond their hollow and washed. When he
returned Seara handed him a large wooden bowl of meat and vegetable broth. They
ate in companionable silence before Seara became impatient.

     'Aren't you going to
ask how I obtained the meat to make the stew?'

     He had not given it a
thought, but the broth was very fresh and tasty.

     ‘Sorry Seara, I guess
. . . I'm not awake yet.'

     ‘I watched my father
use his bow in the town competitions and asked him to secretly instruct me. I
thought I'd borrow yours and hunt something – I got two squirrels, fat ones.
They taste nice don't they?'

     A twist of anger,
quickly suppressed. It was good she had acquitted herself well with hunting
techniques.

     'I remembered about
the knocking point on the bowstring and how to sight the arrow and it worked.' She
paused and smiled hesitantly, ‘but I used a few of your arrows, hope that's all
right?'

     The quiver had been
carelessly thrown onto their backpacks, most of the arrows were gone and the
truth hit him. She had used so many that they were virtually defenceless should
they be attacked.

     'Let me look at your
left wrist,' he demanded, and sure enough the wrist was scratched and inflamed.
She had no wrist guard and the bow string and arrow flights had done their
damage.

     'I don't get another Jadde-star
then?' she tried to make light of her impetuousness.

     'No. I must search .
. . for my arrows; we may need them . . . to defend ourselves.'

     Anger rose in him. Not
wanting her to notice he walked off toward nearby trees where she must have
hunted the squirrels. He was short of twelve arrows; they had carefully knapped
flint tips and woven duck feather fletching. He could not afford to lose them.

     He found the
disturbed grass where she had stalked her prey and examined the area around where
she must have shot the squirrels. Then he hauled himself into the trees and
found seven arrows imbedded in the boughs. Of the others there was no sign.

He was about to get down
when in the distance he saw a line of death black shapes moving through a
thicket of shrubs. They were making no sound, just scanning the surroundings
with malignant stealth. He could imagine no greater horror; even his worst
nightmares had not been inhabited by such creatures. He felt his stomach loosen
and had to get an instant grip lest he lose all control. Were the evil
creatures searching for them or were the quarter-men on another mission? He
glanced over to the still smoking cooking fire – a give-away when they came
over the rise and out of the thicket.

     Transferring his
weight from foot to foot he grappled his way quickly round the tree so it
shielded him from the demons. Then climbed down and ran silently back to Seara.
Luckily she was packing their backpacks and most of the food and belongings had
disappeared into them.

    
‘Finish,
q
uickly
,'
he whispered urgently.

     Seara stared open
eyed with surprise.

     'Demons,' he hissed
as he stamped out the cooking fire and splashed the remainder of the broth over
the embers.

     He shouldered his
backpack, bow and quiver. A glance showed she had scooped up the remaining
belongings and already had her backpack on. They both peeped over the rocky
rim, searching carefully for the danger.

     ‘Coming this way,'
she warned.

     ‘Detour to the trees,
then round to the wide path,’ he whispered. ‘We'll travel quicker along it.'

     Olaff knew it would
have been better to act like a fox and slink away. But he couldn’t risk Seara snapping
a twig or rustling branches and give them away, so he gestured her to run. Trees
flashed by in a blur and Olaff followed her through ferns and long grass in frantic
haste. He attempted to rouse his highsense as best he could whilst pounding his
feet. It would be their best defence if he could channel enough energy from
their headlong flight. He felt the tingle slowly filter into his fingers as he
ran.

Seara tripped and they
both went down in a tangle of limbs. He had been following her too closely. Behind
them the sounds of demons in pursuit drew closer.

     Panting, he hauled
her to her feet.

     'All right?' It was
all he could spare the time to say. She nodded and they resumed their flight.
But Seara now had a slight limp and was perspiring freely with the effort. She
slowed further and the path seemed to stretch ahead of them as straight as an
arrow through the dense trees.

     He ran trying to
regulate his breath as a hunter would in a long chase. But Seara was still
slowing, her limp more pronounced. Olaff glanced behind; the first demons had
reached the path and were speeding along the straight stretch. Ahead a sharp
bend in the path appeared and then around it another straight stretch. To one
side was thinning saplings and beyond, the tops of massive trees appeared. Somewhere
far ahead amongst the foliage a large fire smoked.

But it was too far, Olaff
realised they would not make the shelter of the Sylve’s village. He glanced
left to where large outcroppings of rock led downhill to pasture land with
goats grazing. He looked for a defensive position; a high point where they
could fend off the demons. A glance behind showed the quarter-men were closer.
The detail of their drooling mouths and evil red eyes set in their human masks
could be clearly seen. Not long now and he would have to turn and fight to give
Seara a chance to escape. The large tree homes of the Sylve looked no nearer.

He mustered the highsense energy,
his fingers tingled then heated. It was time.

He shouted, 'Run, I'll
delay them.'

     Seara turned, looked
in horror at the approaching quarter-men and hesitated. Her steps faltered.

     Olaff stopped to
focus his energy, his finger tips glowed. She had paused and was looking
frantically round.

'
Run
,' he repeated.

     He had to think
quickly, with one arm he removed the bow and quiver and threw them at Seara
knowing she would do her best with them.

     Seara caught them. He
turned as the first quarter-man reached them. The others were a distance
behind. He stretched his arms and extended his fingers as if they were claws –
and released the pent up fire.