[djo]

Vanheim turn 27



In which we learn what Belletennares saw while strolling, and what Pherios did about it.


Belletennares

"Well," said Vethru. "You've thrown them out of Vanheim. Congratulations."

I nodded. That the plan would work, I had been confident; that it would continue to work, I was uncertain. Our forces, though highly mobile, were spread thin. The enemy could very easily, once again, infiltrate its forces into our territory at almost any point. That we could expel them as easily was little comfort. The disruption, we could not afford.

Vethru continued. "When will you throw them out of Fom and Great Woods?"

"Soon," I said.

"And Iron Range? I need to get into that tower!"

"Reinforcements have arrived; I will storm the castle soon."

"Excellent."

"And what then?" I asked. "What is our next target?"

"Whatever you want. Just keep what we have."

"And the war? When does it end?"

He smiled. "Will it ever? Your nephew doesn't think so. He's starting to sound as apocalyptic as the Marignonians," he said. "No matter. Use your judgment, unless I tell you otherwise."

As I saw him to the dock, I wondered: when does the risk become too great? We have no hope of massive conquest against our more powerful neighbors, yet we cannot be left out of the spoils. Vethru's wink, as he was rowed away, told me that he knew exactly the dilemma he had left me with.

Later, I walked the night alone. My small dose of Alteion's gift is peripatetic; as I wander, my mind drifts, and my feet bring me to visit places where the future impinges on the present. This night was portentous. I walked deeper in dream than is usual, visiting many locations, each more ominous than the last. I cannot say which of them truly existed and which were only landscapes contained in my own imagination. Of this, though, I am sure: I was drawn by destiny, towed by a thin hawser through the heaving swells of possibility.

I paced along the campfires circling the walls we besieged. As I walked on the beach, I startled a nest of seagulls. I inspected the dying embers of a pyre, of what, I do not know. I visited a graveyard, dark and still.

Through the night, I felt the presence of my nephew Pherios beside me, as if I were guiding him, or acting as his proxy on roads he could not tread himself. Perhaps my small gift had become an agent of his, or perhaps it truly was the gift of Alteion's house, and we but shared it in common.

He walked with me, I felt, when I encountered the dark rider. I came upon it as it rode down a fleeing victim on a straight, dark road overhung by trees. I watched its terrible blade rise and fall.

"Who are you?" I called.

"The enemy of your enemies," it replied, in a chill whisper. It coughed, and it sounded to me like the bark of the hounds of Hel.

"Will you come home?" I asked, or perhaps Pherios asked, through me. At the time, the question seemed appropriate; in retrospect, puzzling.

It flinched. I heard the rustle of mail under its black cloak.

"I have found no path but sorrow," it said. As it wheeled its horse, I could see the horse's reins were wrapped around the stump of its left hand. It galloped into the night.

I would not have credited the experience with any truth, or even any reality outside my own unquiet mind, but the next morning, my scouts reported finding the body of a Pythium deserter, on a straight, tree-lined road, cut down by a rider, left in festering decay.

I detailed my memories in script and dispatched it immediately to Pherios, with the day's reports.


Pherios

Later that afternoon, I returned to Petema's house, bruised and unsuccessful. Molly was still working in the library. She looked up when I walked in. "Sir..."

"Pherios," I corrected her. It had taken her almost a month to learn to speak to me informally, but every now and then, especially when she was nervous, she returned to her old ways.

"Pherios," she said, with concern. "Are you hurt?"

I thought I had washed away the blood. She must have seen my puzzlement. "I heard it," she explained. "About it, I mean."

No blood, then. It never gets easier, being around a seer. "Tell me."

"Someone was reporting to Vethru. Vethru asked if you were injured. The other man, a messenger, said, 'Not too badly. She had no choice. He wouldn't leave.' Vethru thanked him, and I heard the door close."

After getting my uncle's note, I had thought it was time to press forward. I tried to convince Kestumaia to tell me what happened to Galameteia. She refused, and when I insisted, she and her Valkyrie friends threw me out. Hard.

"And then..." said Molly.

"There's more?"

"I heard another voice. One I didn't know."

"What did it say?"

"First, Vethru asked, 'Where is she?' " Molly said. "Then, the other voice said, 'We're not sure; we lost track after she left Iron Range.' "

I didn't think there was anyone important she hadn't met in the last month. I asked her to describe the voice.

"It was odd, kind of small. I couldn't tell if it was a woman or child, or I guess it could even be a man with a high voice. It was almost musical but also kind of coarse."

Quellian Ji knew something! I couldn't believe I'd overlooked Ji. I hadn't seen him much recently, since he spent most of his time with Vethru. But he knew something about Galameteia.

"Who? Who is it?" she asked anxiously. For her, it was as important to recognize the voices she heard as it was for me to decipher the symbols the birds represented.

"Please?" she said.

I could hear the tension in her voice. It wouldn't leave her until she knew. "It's Quellian Ji. You've seen him. He's Vethru's seagull."

"Is he Vethru's familiar?" I couldn't tell if she was frightened or just confused.

A plan started to form in my mind. "No, just an advisor. You should meet him..."

* * *

Ji flew in the window of the library and landed on the table. "Hi, kid, it's been a long time."

"Molly isn't here yet," I said. "Make yourself at home."

"Thanks. How have you been? Hey, can I have some of these blueberries?"

"Go ahead," I said, and while he was occupied, I closed the only open window in the room. I sat down at the table. "Let's talk about Galameteia."

"C'mon, kid. You know the boss won't let me." Then he noticed how serious I was, and he looked around the room at the closed windows and doors. "Oh, crap. Look, Pherios, I'd like to. But boss says no. I can't talk about what happened...then."

"I want to hear that story eventually, but today, I'd like to know where she is now."

A pause. He wasn't going to give anything away. "You know I can't say anything."

I leaned forward. "Do you think you're leaving before you do?"

He squawked. "Sorry, kid, but you don't scare me as much as him. The worst you can do is torture and kill me, and you're too nice for that."

"I need to know!" I said. I didn't know if he was right. I didn't know if I wanted him to be right or not.

"No, you don't," he said, softly. "You really don't."

"There's a hole in my heart, Ji. It's still bleeding. It won't stop until I see her again."

"Just forget it. Please."

"It's destined," I told him. "I see it constantly. It won't leave me alone. I know, it won't fix anything. But it needs to end. Until I see her, until I know what happened, I can't rest. I know it's a blade waiting to fall, so let's be done with it. I need to move on."

"Jeez, kid!"

"Please! Help me. Have you ever lost someone, and not known what happened?"

He flattered his wings. "Damn. Let me think...look, I don't know. I guess I know somebody. I can ask..."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, kid. I ain't doing you a favor."

"I know," I said. "I've seen it."

"OK. Just promise me this--don't tell him. He finds out, you saw all in a vision, right? Leave me out of it."

"All right," I said, and I got up and opened the window. Ji flew to the sill.

"Good luck, kid. Hey, I will see you again, won't I? You aren't, uh, looking for the easy way out?"

"We'll meet again, friend. There are no easy ways out. Not anymore."

* * *

I found the rendezvous point without much difficulty. It was within Vanheim, near a secluded waterfall in dense forest. The stream was only six or eight feet wide, and the waterfall was not much taller.

Quellian Ji's contact rode up on the opposite side of the stream, silently, in the manner of the Vanir, out of the green. Although she rode, she wore the scale mail of a Valkyrie. She wore a full helm, with its visor down. A white cloak trailed behind her. She did not dismount.

I bowed deeply, and she nodded in return.

"A great wrong has been done to her, and to you" she said. "It will not be undone if you see her." Her voice was hollow in her helm, yet hoarse as well.

"I know, Lady."

"It will not ease your heart, or your mind."

"That I also know."

She fidgeted with the reins. "I want to help you, son of Alteion. But I am not sure you know what is best for yourself. Your choices are born of pain. Do you still see clearly?"

"I wish I didn't. It is fated, Lady. It blocks my path. Until it is over, I cannot be whatever I must be."

"Very well. I will contact you, when it is time." She turned her horse to leave. "Have courage, dear Pherios. Afterward, if you have need of me, tell Ji."

The familiarity I had been feeling in her presence coalesced. It was she that wrote an anonymous note to me half a year ago. "Do I know you, Lady?"

As she disappeared, she called, "I am forgotten and remembered."

I looked up to the sky, and two white birds flew across a streak of blue breaking through the canopy. Peace, at last?