Chapter Twenty-Four Lettle
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lettle
Lettle thought blisters on her feet were bad. But six weeks of riding an obeah had proven that there were worse places to have blisters than the soles of one’s feet.
‘We’re nearly there,’ she said to Alder. He had withdrawn into himself over the last few weeks. Barely eating, barely sleeping. His past life haunted him, robbing him of all joy.
Though the obeah had made the journey much quicker, it had in some ways felt longer than the way there. This time they were not buoyed by the hope of possibility but laden with the weight of the truth.
There was also a lack of entertainment now Farhan was no longer with them. Mortah didn’t quite have the same repertoire of jaunty fireside songs that the fae had.
The journey had been swift, and brittle with cold. But the closer they had got to the Wasted Marshes, the warmer the weather became. Until finally snow was a thing of the past.
‘I never want to see a snow-covered conifer ever again,’ Lettle said. ‘Do you know how many times I was struck by a snowdrift from their branches? Nine times.’
‘Asase’s children are vindictive,’ Mortah said with a grin.
It shocked Lettle into silence. Asase’s children. Alder had told her before that it was the nickname the Nomads had given to conifers.
They were the trees that Afa had planted over the graves of the humans.
His web continues to glint through time, Lettle thought.
Alder had seen her face reach the realisation he must have already come to. He gave her a sad nod, his brow etched with grief.
‘Are you excited to see Golan again?’ she asked gently, changing the subject.
A small smile grew on his lips, and then he grimaced and looked away. ‘I cannot bear to tell him the truth of who I am.’
‘Afa is not you, Alder.’
‘Sometimes I believe that, but other times…’ Alder looked at the pack of fifty obeah who had followed them the whole way.
‘Bow down,’ he commanded, and as one the obeah dropped their haunches and dipped their heads.
Then Alder turned to her, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
‘I have his power, I have his faults, I just don’t have his memories. ’
‘That accounts for a lot,’ she said.
‘I hope so.’
They dismounted on a rocky outcrop that overlooked the swampland below.
‘Rayan is so close now,’ Lettle said softly to Ajax. ‘All we have to do, is cross that.’
The elven army sprawled across the Wasted Marshes. The camp was as large as a city, spreading out in neat rows of tents as far as Lettle could see.
Soldiers moved like hornets around a nest, swarming across the marshland, their weapons glinting like stingers. There were so many of them that Lettle struggled to comprehend the sheer number of soldiers they were up against.
‘I never thought I’d live in a world where all four elven tribes stood together, side by side,’ Mortah said.
‘I wish we lived in a world where they didn’t have to raise arms at all,’ Lettle said.
‘I’m not sure that world will ever exist,’ Alder said quietly. ‘War comes and goes like the tide. We never learn.’
It was in moments like these that Lettle wondered if Alder had changed a little. Of course the truth had affected him deeply, but it was more than that. Like his innocence had been tarnished with the knowledge that he was now an ancient being.
‘I’m going to scout ahead,’ Mortah said. The elf strode off before Lettle or Alder could protest.
Lettle thought that Mortah’s limp was less pronounced than it had been in Caperly. The journey had invigorated her just as much as it had fatigued Lettle.
‘We should sling up the camp here,’ Alder said as he inspected the eucalyptus trees around them.
Lettle groaned. She absolutely hated sleeping in a sky tent. Though it was safer, the slight swinging made her queasy. Alder rummaged in his bag for the silkvine which they had stocked up on in Caperly.
He threw one end of the weave to her and she began to climb the tree he indicated.
Lettle had never been a good climber. Her weakened muscles in her left arm had made it difficult.
But necessity had forced her to improve, and her arms now corded with muscles she hadn’t had at the start of the journey.
She had to rely heavily on her right side, but Alder had taught her techniques that had helped her fine-tune her skills.
Together they knotted a canopy across the tree line. The obeah prowled beneath them, an added line of defence. But Ajax preferred to stay by Lettle’s side. It was clear the soulless obeah perturbed him.
By the time they were finished, Mortah had returned.
She climbed onto the silkvine with far more grace than Lettle would ever have.
‘The elven army has Mosima surrounded,’ she said as she joined them. ‘The tunnel you mention has a platoon of armed guards outside it. There’s no way we’ll get past them.’
‘Are you sure?’ Lettle said.
‘Yes. They looked like Waning soldiers to me, all equipped with drums.’
‘So how do we get in?’ Lettle asked.
Alder shrugged, and Mortah looked passively into the distance. So Lettle answered her own question.
‘We could use the cover of darkness?’
‘They’ll still see us coming,’ Mortah said.
‘How about we use the obeah? They were made to fight a war and we have enough of them—’
‘No!’ Lettle had rarely heard Alder raise his voice.
He sounds just like Afa, she thought.
‘I will not let the obeah be sacrificed like that. They might not have souls, but they are still creatures. And I have caused enough death.’
Shame warmed her cheeks. Afa wasn’t capable of the compassion Alder showed here. His tender heart had the ability to care for all things, even those without souls.
‘All right, Alder, we won’t use the obeah,’ she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. He nodded gratefully.
‘Know this is a decision Afa would not have made, and that is one of the many things that sets you apart from him,’ she added.
His smile was brief.
‘How about we infiltrate the army in disguise?’ Mortah suggested.
Lettle wrinkled her nose. ‘I was never a good soldier, I can barely remember my training.’
‘And I–I don’t remember anything…’ Alder said bleakly.
‘I can teach you both. All we need is some uniforms.’
Lettle’s stomach churned with the thought.
‘It’s getting dark now. Perhaps tomorrow we can discuss this…plan.’
Mortah nodded, her eyes feverishly bright. ‘We can practise drills, salutes, chants…’
Lettle drowned her out as she began to remove her bedding from her pack.
‘I can’t wait to sleep in an actual bed,’ she muttered.
She had been talking to herself but Alder answered. ‘You get used to it.’
‘Have you ever slept in a real bed?’
‘No. Well…I suppose I did at some point.’ She saw his lips turn down so she threw herself theatrically across her sleeping mat.
‘Imagine goose down, soft and luxurious. Wool so warm you’ll not shiver once. Or even straw! I’ll take straw over this quilted cotton.’
‘Cotton is warm too, and if you tuck in the seams here you give yourself an extra layer.’
‘Ah, but you see, Alder, it is missing the most important thing,’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially before exclaiming, ‘Bounce!’
Alder laughed. It was a hiccup, really, barely enough breath to convey amusement, but she would take it.
His mood remained lifted throughout dinner–dried fish and stale bread, the last of their rations. When they went to sleep that evening, Lettle felt lighter than she had in weeks.
Whether it was the talk of beds or her proximity to Rayan, her dreams were filled with him. His smile, his gaze, his hands…
‘Come home to me, Lettle,’ he whispered against her collarbone. ‘Come, come, come.’
She woke bathed in sweat, her fingers entwined in the curling hair between her legs, her lips trembling from the lingering sensations of her dreams.
The night was still, except for the panting of her breath. Alder slumbered quietly beside her, Mortah on her other side. The silkvine swayed softly in the breeze beneath them.
But something felt odd.
Lettle crawled carefully to the edge of the silkvine and looked down. The obeah were indiscernible from each other, an undulating pool of black ink, their flashing eyes the only indication they were there at all.
A bat swooped low, making her jump. She settled a hand on her beating heart, urging it to calm.
There was nothing and no one out there. Just the darkness and her tumultuous thoughts.
She reached for her prophecy talismans and settled her back against a eucalyptus tree. It was the first time she had used her tokens since she had prophesised in the sanctuary. Her conversation with Afa had stayed her hand more than once.
‘And the Fates you call to, tell me, how much damage have they done to you and your life?’
He didn’t know about Rayan’s death, he couldn’t–yet he’d unearthed a truth so raw and painful she’d had to look away.
Were the Fates just as dangerous as he had supposed?
She rolled the little dice in her hands, feeling the rough carvings of all the organs. Then she looked up into the sky.
Is the truth too dangerous to seek?
Alder snored behind her. She looked at his peaceful face, marvelling at the smoothness of his features. He looked so serene. But she knew if he opened his eyes, his gaze would be irreparably touched by a darkness that would never leave him.
She’d asked if he regretted learning the truth earlier on their journey.
He thought for a long time before he answered. ‘No.’
‘Why? It seems to torture you so.’
‘It does, but the not knowing was a kind of torture too. I never felt truly whole; at least now I know why I feel that way. Ignorance is a cage; and that cage can be lovely, well decorated, homely even. But the truth is freedom; it is opening the door to let the breeze in, even if sometimes that breeze can become a hurricane.’ He drew in a deep breath and added, ‘Life is both the rose and the thorn. To grow you must have both.’
‘Life is both the rose and the thorn,’ she whispered to herself now, the talismans in her hands.
She threw them against the silkvine before she could change her mind, then she asked the Fates: ‘How do we get back into Mosima?’