Chapter Ten: Jamoku

Tranith Argan: Book 4

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The six travelers are safely out of the village, but Alessa remains in despair over what she has learned.

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They marched north, but as they did Alessa turned her head back to the village. The archers marched backward to keep an eye open for threats, but little appeared that would cause them alarm. As the village shrank behind them, Alessa saw Rotund emerge from behind a hut, his face twisted with impotent rage. For the first time, she saw not just his anger, but the deep wounds of loss and fear that fed it.

Soon she saw a couple of guards tentatively walk toward their fallen comrades, lift them onto boards, and move back into the village. For Lemual, four villagers came over to the body and lifted it carefully and respectfully and carried it slowly back to the main hut in the center of the village. Another tear fell from Alessa as she silently said goodbye to the man who had tried to avoid the bloodshed between their peoples.

Once clear of the village and out into the open plain that spread far beyond the river to their left, a solemn mood took everyone. The excitement of the attack was done and all there was left was the emotion of the events. For the captain of the elves there was the distaste of having been told what to do by this young elf. To be called a non-elf by his actions! He was very displeased.

Alessa scarcely gave the captain a thought in return. Her mind was darkened by what had just transpired. A day earlier, she realized, she wanted nothing to do with this village and their prejudiced people. She wanted to be free of their walls and out into the Elven Plain where she could be safely on her way home. Now she was walking the Plain and felt none of the peace she had expected. These villagers told lies, she had told herself a day before, but now she saw the truth of what Lemual had told them, how this history of conflict had fed violence upon violence until nobody could tell where an act began and a reaction ended.

“I will speak to your father as well,” said Felanar soothingly to the downtrodden elf. Alessa did not respond, did not even acknowledge that he had spoken, but just kept marching onward, following the lead of the elves escorting them. Trying again he said, “He will see the reason of the situation.”

Without looking up Alessa said, “There is no reason here.”

“He will see how things should change,” said Felanar.

“He will say this village should move across the river,” she said glumly as she stared at the ground.

“It would be the best solution,” he responded gently.

“Rutond would never allow it,” she said, “for he sees nothing but vengeance. Things have gone on too long for a solution as simple as that. No, I need to get my father to accept their right to live on the Plain, and then he needs to enforce it on the patrols. But how will I get him to see this point? We are talking about a man who stubbornly refuses to let an elderly elf return to her homeland simply because she disobeyed her father’s will. He is too willing to stick to old ideas, Felanar. He has forgotten the way of change.”

“Then we will help him learn once again,” he said as he put his arm over her shoulder. Alessa again moved to avoid his touch, and this time Felanar pressed the matter.

“Why do you rebuff my approach, Alessa?”

She looked up at him and put on a smile that did not fool him.

“It is nothing, I am just full of dark emotions from the day.”

“That is why I tried to comfort you,” he countered. “This is what people do when they are in love.”

“Are we in love?” Alessa’s voice carried a distance that was not there in the mountain. Her eyes, usually so direct when speaking to him, drifted to the horizon.

“Are we not?” Felanar’s confusion crept into his voice.

“Did we ever tell each other this?” she responded.

Felanar thought for a moment. He then tilted his head and said, “Actually, I think not. Though our kissing in the caves seemed clear enough.”

Jela, who had been trailing the two of them but walking close enough to hear what they were saying, suddenly dropped back and looked stricken. Felanar saw this movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Jela, but she avoided his gaze, and he turned back to Alessa and realized he was losing his train of thought. Alessa brought him back to the conversation.

“I felt many things that night,” she said, each word measured, “and love may have been one of the emotions.” She finally met his eyes, but something had changed. Where before Felanar saw eternity, now he saw walls being built. “Keep in mind my inexperience, however. I hardly know about such matters.”

Her smile, when it came, held a practiced gentleness that hurt more than rejection. “It would be best if we proceed as the friends we are and not complicate things.”

Her forced smile crumbled under his steady gaze. She looked away, color rising in her cheeks, and moved to Kara’s side. Felanar stared at Alessa for a few moments and then looked down.

They walked for several hours, seeing no other travelers or inhabitants. If what Felanar understood was correct, there would be no other inhabitants the rest of the way. That village was an exception on an otherwise empty Plain. It seemed so pointless to him to keep this vast land empty.

As they rested for a few minutes, the captain of the elves released the archers and most of the guards. They were to return to their scheduled tour of duty now that all threats had passed. The captain and three other elves would escort the six travelers to Elaria. They watched the rest of the knights head back south and then they started walking north again. All this time they had followed the path of the river Arenton as it curved northward toward the sea. It was always on their left just at the horizon. Felanar guessed they had about four or five days to walk before they reached the Green Hills and then Elaria just beyond. The weather was good and the land was ever greener as they advanced. Felanar felt his mood improving as they advanced despite the day's events.

The rest of that day saw no interruption. They camped that night on a grassy field and ate delicacies provided by the elves and drank elven liquids of sustaining delight. When they lay down for bed Felanar thought that the elves traveled better than any other people.

The next morning dawned bright and clear so they woke up with it and had breakfast. Then they were on their way again, the captain saying they were about a quarter of the way and should make it to Elaria the day after tomorrow if they made full days of it. Felanar agreed that was the best plan and soon they were making good time with a steady gait.

For Pross and Jela this was the longest journey they had ever taken. They spoke with Kara and Felanar as they walked and asked a series of questions about the land and its people, about elves and their customs, about what was to come soon and what would be done with them eventually. This time Jela asked most of her questions of Kara. She seemed suddenly shy of asking anything of Felanar or even addressing him in any way. Kara noticed this, but said nothing and just answered the questions as they arose. Felanar noticed, but he was glad enough not to have to answer so many questions so he did not press the issue in any way.

Dolen had never seen the Plain nor visited Elaria. He gradually got Alessa to talk more as they walked, though her mood of gloom did not pass entirely.

“I shall speak with your father,” he told Alessa, “and use our friendship as the basis for seeking a new understanding between our peoples. The time has come to put away the prejudices of the past.”

“I will speak with him too,” Alessa said, “for I agree.”

Before either could say another word, Jela screamed and threw herself to the ground. Looking over, they realized one of the elf guards lay dead with an arrow through his head, and instantly another fell to two more arrows flying in from their left. The remaining elf guard and the captain sprang into action and dodged the other arrows that now arrived. Every arrow had been directed at the four elf guards, not a one at the others. They all crouched low and frantically scanned their surroundings for the attackers.

More arrows came in and from their flight everyone's eyes traveled back to their source: western men on horseback rapidly approaching. From their distance only the elves could make out their appearance, and Alessa said they looked like warriors from the Tri-Cities.

“The men who followed us across the Plain?” asked Felanar.

“It must be,” said Alessa, “for there are twelve on horseback, just as I saw from the slopes of Majestic.”

The captain and the other elf were calmly shooting arrows in return now, but no matter how fast they were, the men on horseback, now only 20 or 30 yards away, managed to dodge their flight. Since the elves were able to do the same, it was clear the real fighting would be done by hand. Out of arrows, the two elves drew their swords and prepared for the fight. The men on horseback drew close and dismounted on the fly, scimitars in hand as they hit the ground running.

With no weapons of their own, Felanar and the others watched helplessly as the dozen western men surrounded the two elves and closed in on them relentlessly. One of their number was killed by the elf captain, but in striking him the elf was vulnerable for just a moment and himself received a death blow from another man. The other elf managed to wound a third man but was soon overwhelmed as well. The men then approached Felanar and the others, all of whom formed a tight circle together for whatever protection this might provide, however little it seemed to help.

The leader of the men stopped five feet from the group and quickly scanned the six persons standing there. Then evidently having made up his mind about something, he moved quickly toward Jela, grabbed her roughly, causing her to scream, knocked back Pross with one sudden swipe of his other arm as he tried to interfere, and removed a long knife that he held up to Jela's neck. He held up his other hand in more of a command than a greeting.

“I am Jamoku.” He spoke the name like a blade being drawn, expecting fear, but finding only blank faces. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes at their lack of recognition.

“I am the head of the Hírikk Jakkír,” he continued, “and you are my prisoners. You may either cooperate and live, or you may resist and she dies, it is your choice and I ask you to make it now. Which do you choose?”

Ten scimitars rose behind Jamoku as if to emphasize what he had just said. Jamoku pressed the knife against Jela's throat, stifling another scream as blood was drawn and Jela's eyes widened in terror. Felanar immediately held up his hands.

“We cooperate,” he said quickly.

Jamoku signaled to his men and they lowered their scimitars and rapidly approached the six prisoners. Jela was released and thrown back toward the group. Felanar, Kara, Dolen and Alessa had their hands quickly, and very tightly, bound by rope. Jamoku himself took cloth and gagged Alessa with it as well as put a black hood over her head. He then turned to two of his men and said, “She is an elf. Guard her carefully. We are in their land and she will try to call out to her people. If she makes any strange moves, if she makes a sound that seems odd to you, kill her instantly. If she manages to contact her people, you will die in her place. The autarch does not like prisoners to escape, but he would be satisfied to know that one was killed resisting capture. Or that you were killed in her place.”

Then he turned to Pross and Jela and addressed them.

“I do not know you,” he said, eying them up and down. “You are western, but not from our cities. My orders do not concern you. I could kill you on the spot if I wished.”

Jela shrank back in fear again, holding her hand to her throat where he had drawn blood.

“Jamoku is a fair man, however, and you are free to go,” he continued, much to their relief and confusion.

“Where shall we go?” asked Pross. “These are our friends.”

“Do you not know when your life has been handed to you?” yelled Jamoku. “Leave! Now! Before I change my mind. Head in this direction toward home or else you die.” He indicated west toward the river.

With alacrity Pross and Jela ran west, Jela looking behind her at Felanar once or twice, and he looked back at them wondering what they would do in this land so completely foreign to them. Soon they were over a small hill and lost from sight.

“March,” ordered Jamoku. “I have spent too long tracking you, watching you take refuge in the mountain, in the village, and with the elves. Now I have you at last and I wish to get across the river as fast as possible.”

The men left their fallen comrade lying on the ground and stopped only long enough to make a very rudimentary dressing for the one wounded man's arm. They reached the horses and Jamoku put Felanar on his horse, Dolen and Kara on the dead man's horse, and Alessa on a third horse ridden by another of his men. Another followed behind to make sure no communication was attempted by Alessa. They began to ride west toward the river.

Jamoku laughed in a throaty voice and said to Felanar over the sound of the horses’s hooves, “Namonikkar will be so pleased with me. By now he probably thinks we have failed; it has taken so long. Jamoku never fails.”

Jamoku’s laughter echoed across the plain, a sound that seemed to mock their brief taste of freedom. With each hoof beat west, the weight of captivity settled deeper into their bones, the autarch’s shadow lengthening to embrace them.