Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2004 20:51:46 -0800 (PST)
From: Corrinne S <mdaigle@prodigy.net>
Subject: Dark Wishes Installment 42: Part 5 Chapter 15

This is the ongoing sequel to Dark Wishes, both
copyrighted under Nifty and International Common Law.

Unspoken Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part One: Markel

Chapter Fifteen

     The kingdom of Elanen was primarily grassy plains
and arable farmland.  The western border was once the
massive Chennai mountain range, destroyed centuries
earlier by catastrophic volcanic eruptions.  To the
north, gentle foothills led to the mountains and
forests that bordered Elanen's ancient ally, Endril.
The most southern part of the kingdom was a quagmire
of lakes and bogs which were home to majestic cedar
and pine trees.  There were few passages to the
untamed wilderness beyond, wild even in Trelaine's
time.

     Elanen's eastern border, a hard day's ride from
Aolane if the horse was swift, was claimed by another
massive mountain range formed during the beginning of
time by tectonic plates battling for supremacy.  The
mountain summits had been covered by snow through the
countless centuries since the world was born,
sacrificing very few inches of the deep snow each
summer.  The melted snow froze hard each winter and,
through the passing eons, the summits became layers of
snow and hard ice.  Those who lived in the shadow of
the mountains they named Death walked softly and spoke
in whispers through the harsh winters.

     While Efren was recovering from his sudden
illness, surrounded by the warmth and love of the High
King, a bird of prey spotted his next meal circling
lazily over the summit of the smallest of the
mountains called Death.  He waited until a small cloud
covered the sun before spreading his massive wings and
gliding toward the unsuspecting smaller creature.
Swinging his legs forward at the moment of attack, he
grasped his victim in sharp talons and swept his wings
downward.

     A loud cry of surprise and pain burst from the
smaller bird as his life ended . . . and a few inches
of snow were disturbed.

 . . .

     "I am well enough to be bored with sitting
quietly near the hearth," Efren complained to Iashain
one morning.

     His recovery was slow for his heart and lungs had
not gained enough strength through the previous
summer.  Once again he had almost died and Tynan spent
several weeks hovering over his lover much like a
mother hen does a young chick.  Only Iashain's
reminder that young warriors needed training removed
Tynan from his beloved's side.

     With Yashidra's approval Iashain sent young Daen
to Efren and the once emaciated child became an
apprentice.  Daen, who had shown a quick mind and
eagerness to learn and be of use to the Qell, happily
joined Efren in the king's cottage each day.  Iashain
showed the lad the massive amount of scrolls in the
dungeon and it was his task to aid Efren in sorting
them.  Each morning Daen carried as many of the
scrolls as his arms could hold and placed them neatly
into stacks as Efren read the contents and determined
the subject matter.  Iashain found an unused part of
the old dungeon for the sorted scrolls to be stored
and Daen carefully placed the newly sorted ones in
their proper places each evening.  Although he could
not yet read, he knew their final places for Iashain
had given each subject its own simple code which Daen
remembered.

     The child was a blessing to the Qell and Markel
for Daen accepted his new responsibility with great
seriousness.  And though he knew nothing of healing,
the boy could tell when Efren's eyes grew too bright
with an approaching remnant of fever.  At such times
Daen would put the scrolls aside and scurry about the
cottage putting herbs to simmer and seeking the vials
Yashidra had prepared for Efren.

     With his new mentor tucked into a comfortable
chair by the hearth with a warm blanket across his
lap, Daen would sit near him and say, "I `member a
legend my grandda told of the  first Qell," he would
begin.

 . . .

     It began innocently at the summit of the smallest
mountain ... the slight displacement of snow that was
imperceptible.  It moved slowly, then gathered speed.
It built momentum until more snow joined it and the
speed increased along with mass.  It reached a point
where ice and snow had built a shelf, through the
eons, that reached out from the mountain and the
accumulated weight of the moving snow broke the shelf.

     The three small villages built on the
mountainsides by people possessed of either great
courage or little vision had no warning of impending
danger until the sound of crashing ice and snow in the
distance.  The sound made by the smaller mountain
touched the larger two on either side and years of
precariously balanced snow began a treacherous path
downward.

     Panic erupted in the villages and a word was
heard that had never been expected ... avalanche.
Parents caught their children by the hand and began to
run down the mountain, hoping they would be swifter
than the waves of white death rushing toward them.

     Few thought of the small herd of shaggy mountain
ponies, nor would there have been time for an
organized attempt to free them from their enclosed
paddock.  Only one, a boy named Jered, could spare his
mind to think of other than human life.  Jered sped to
the paddock, unfastened the great gate, and pulled it
free.  Climbing to the top rail he whistled and a
shaggy dun pony ran toward him.  Gathering all the
strength he had in his small legs, Jered sprung from
the rail and landed on the pony's back and gripped the
mane with his hands.  He guided the pony swiftly
around the paddock and urged the rest of the herd
toward the open gate.  When all had escaped Jered
whispered to the dun that they must make all haste to
Aolane and beg help from the Kings.

     Jered was an orphan and lived only because some
of the old widows took pity on him and fed him from
their own meager provisions.  He was small for his age
and showed no sign of ever possessing the strength of
body needed to survive the harsh life of those who
lived on the mountains of Death.  But Jered knew the
ponies well and was accepted by them.  The dun
responded to his panic stricken plea and sped toward
Aolane.

 . . .

     Daen finished telling Efren of how Nels and
Frayne plaited their hair in preparation for battle,
then sat back and looked at the young man.  "I want to
marry someone like you when I am a man," Daen said.

     "Why like me?" Efren asked.

     "There are only two Qell," Daen replied, "so I
will have to choose a man."

     "And not a woman?"

     "Girls are creepy," Daen said with all the
experience of a child.

     "Then perhaps you can marry Ialdor," Efren
teased.

     "Yashidra's baby?" Daen replied, his eyes round
with shock.

     Efren began to laugh and explain that Ialdor
would become a man all in good time when the door to
the cottage burst open and a half-frozen boy burst in,
throwing himself at Efren's feet.

     "Have mercy," Jered barely whispered.  "The
mountains of Death have fallen and the villages are
buried."

     Daen rushed to close the door before the cottage
could become chilled.  "That your pony?" he asked
Jered when he notice the animal in front of the
cottage.


     "Yes," Jered managed between quick breaths.
"Rode ... hard."

     Efren quickly determined what must be done.
"Take the pony to the stable and tell Usan," he told
Daen.  "He will know how to care for it.  Tynan will
be with his warriors.  Go and tell him he is needed.
I will summon Iashain."

     "You cannot leave the cottage," Daen protested.

     "I will not.  Just go!"

     Efren settled Jered by the fireplace with a
blanket around his body and a cup of warmed goat milk.
 Sitting back in his own chair he tried something he
had never done before.  He cleared his mind of all
thoughts save one, his lover.  He concentrated his
thoughts toward the small archive, hoping that
Iashain's magic and the bond they shared would open
the Qell's mind to his plea.

     The urgency of Efren's unexpected penetration
into his mind struck Iashain at the same instant Daen
repeated Jered's news to Tynan.  Jered, still numb
from the cold and his mad ride to Aolane, was
speechless at the sight of the two Qell suddenly
appearing in the cottage as if from the cottage walls.

     "This is Jered," Efren told the Qell.  "He has
just arrived from the mountains of Death with news of
an avalanche.  He does not know how many, if any, have
survived."

     "We must do what we can to aid the villagers,"
Tynan said.  "I need you to come with me, Iashain, for
your magic.  I will have my warriors prepare their
horses for the journey.  We will need them to aid in
the rescue.  Iashain, request healers from Yashidra.
They need only know how to tend cuts and broken bones.
 Your magic will care for those in shock or pain.  See
about warm blankets and send wagons after us.  They
will be needed to transport the survivors to Aolane.
Efren, when we have gone please send Daen to let
others know.  We might need all of Aolane to open
their homes."

     With plans set in motion Tynan returned to his
fledgling warriors and told them that their first task
was at hand.  Before mounting one of the horses Tynan
sent out another call, a silent one ... intended for one
set of ears only.

 . . .

     It was dawn the next day before the rescuers from
Aolane came upon the first survivors of the avalanche.
 Blankets were quickly passed among them and minor
wounds were treated.  The Qell combined their magic to
create a dry area, clear of snow, and a warm fire.
The youngest of the healers, Maxim, put snow to melt
and heat in a small pot from his saddlebag for it was
essential to provide something to warm the blood of
near frozen adults and children.  Assured that the
young healer knew what to do, the rest of the rescue
party continued.

     "This will be our main camp," Tynan told Maxim.
"The wagons will be here soon with more blankets and
food.  We will direct others to you as we find them."

     Kolan and Artus had dogs they used for hunting
and had brought them along, hoping the animals would
help locate anyone buried beneath snow and ice.  As
the rescue party neared the mountains the dogs picked
up the scent of several people and pointed their noses
towards mounds of snow.  Small groups of two or three
were dug from beneath the deadly white, mounted on
spare horses, and sent to Maxim's camp.

     Higher up the mountainside another searched for
life.  His sense of smell was keen, his forelegs
powerful at digging through snow and ice, his loyalty
to one Qell Lord steadfast.  He had been sent to find
and save human life.  Hunger tempted him as he came
across the dead but he had been promised live prey
closer to his cave and his mate.

     The rescuers arrived where the tiger had been
searching in time to see him gently pull a child from
the snow by her clothing and carry her to a woman.
"This is powerful magic," more than one thought, "that
a predator works to save lives."

     In the years to come, old men and women would sit
comfortably beneath sprawling oak trees on gentle
summer afternoons and tell the children of Elanen of a
time when great white tigers joined with man and Qell
in quests throughout the kingdom.  When the wild
predator took his mate and cubs to withdraw into the
wilderness, legend increased his numbers and feats,
and made him a creature of magic.

To be continued

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