Many of the elves walked the dreamroad next to their sleeping wolf brothers, but a half dozen or so of each patrolled the area, scanning the horizon and sniffing the breeze while the others kept close watch on Lendri and Mingan. Lendri did not know whether to cling to hope or despair. They had not killed him on sight, which was good, he supposed, but every attempt to speak to them had been met with either cold silence or a command to close his mouth. After his fourth attempt, his brother Leren had threatened to gag him, so Lendri sat and waited. Little brother had grown in the years they'd been apart.
His limbs were lean but filled with a hard strength, and he walked with the poise and confidence of a true pack leader. Pride and sadness filled Lendri's heart-pride that little brother had taken his place in the pack and sadness that it had to be so. The bottom rim of the sun was a finger's width over the horizon when Lendri first noticed the long shadows in the distant grass-several of them headed right for the pack. It wouldn't be long now. Leren, pacing not far away, saw them as well. He was one of the few in camp with a weapon-a long knife that he held naked in his hand. He watched the shadows a while, then turned and looked down on Lendri. "They are coming," he said. "Thank you, Brother," said Lendri. "Don't call me that, hrayek," said the warrior, and he spat on the ground beside Lendri. Mingan raised his head, and a growl, more felt than heard, rumbled deep within the wolf's throat.
Leren ignored him. Hrayek, thought Lendri. Outcast. Oathbreaker. This was not going as well as he'd hoped. It was not altogether unexpected, but still it saddened him. He and Leren had been close once. With full light bathing the rise, the Vil Adanrath stirred out of dreamwalk and sleep. The news spread quickly. The omah nin was coming. Several of the wolves sent up a song to greet him. A pack of twenty wolves, led by a massive male with fur the color of new snow, ran among the gathered pack. The hunters greeted their lord and his guard, dancing about him, yipping and barking, the greatest of the pack licking his muzzle and bowing with lowered ears and tail. The huge wolf allowed it for a time, then snarled and barked till the others cleared a path for him. He walked up the slope to Leren, wolves and elves following him.
Mingan circled Lendri a few times, then settled on his haunches beside his friend and watched. Leren knelt, lowering his head and opening his palms. "Well come to the pack, Omah Nin." The wolf looked at Leren, then glanced at Lendri and Mingan. His fur bristled, then began to ripple as if stirred by a hundred tiny breezes. Fur faded to a misty light, the pale shadow within stretching. When the light cleared, an elf stood in front of Leren. This newcomer was the tallest elf in camp. His snow white hair fell well past his waist, and his entire body was a maze of black tattoos and old wounds. Runes the color of fresh blood lined his arms and chest. Three scars marred his skin from scalp to cheek to chin, leaving empty tracks through his pale eyebrows. His eyes stood out like jewels burning with the light of a winter sky. This was Haerul, Omah Nin of the Vil Adanrath. Chieftain of chieftains. What the Tuigan would have named khahan. Haerul knelt by the wolf next to him, which had a light pack on its back. He reached into the pack, removed a loincloth, and covered his nakedness before looking down on Leren. "Rise, my son," he said. Leren stood, and together the elves turned to face Lendri. "Hrayek," Haerul said, no warmth in his eyes. "You know the penalty for returning to the pack. There is no help for you here. You know that." Lendri looked into the chieftain's eyes. "I know, Father." For the briefest instant, sorrow clouded Haerul's countenance, then he suppressed it and turned to his younger son with his hand open. Leren slapped the blade into his father's palm. "Then," said Haerul, "I suggest you speak quickly.
I would like to know the reason I must kill flesh of my flesh." Mingan growled at the sight of the blade, but Lendri shushed him to silence.
The wolf quieted, but Lendri could feel his tension. His friend's muscles were taut as oak roots, and his hackles stood tall like summer grass. Lendri kept his eyes low. To look his father in the eye would be seen as a challenge. If it came to the blade, then perhaps he would challenge his father. Until then… Lendri told his tale, of the rescue of Jalan and the war wizard from the slavers, of others-though he did not say who-coming for the boy afterward. "What does this have to do with the Vil Adanrath?" asked Leren. "Why lose your life's blood to tell us a tale of this out-clanner and her son?" "The ones who came for the wizard's son," said Lendri, "the ones I fought and who almost killed me. They were Siksin Neneweth. A man-or something like a man-led them. A man in an ash-gray cloak who walks with winter before and behind him." Lendri heard several gasps, and even the wolves went silent and still. Every member of the Vil Adanrath, even the youngest, knew the tale of Gyaidun and Hlessa's son. It was told around winter fires and under summer stars. Leren stared at Lendri with his mouth hanging open. He shut it, looked at his father, then back to Lendri.
"You speak of the one who took Erun-or one like him. You-" "Be silent," said Haerul. Lendri risked a glance up at his father. A storm was gathering in his winter-sky eyes. "But-" said Leren. "Silence."
Lendri could feel his father's gaze upon him, but he did not dare look up. Long moments passed, the only sound a slight breeze rippling the grasses. "Leren speaks what everyone here knows," said Lendri. "The raiders I speak of, those who took the woman's son, they are the ones who took Erun. Or ones like them. Your daughter's son. Your grandchild. Gyaidun and I are hrayeket, but Erun is not. He is your blood." "Erun is dead," said Haerul. Lendri could hear the rage and sorrow in his father's voice. Lendri stood in one swift motion and faced his father, only a half-pace between them, his eyes carefully fixed no higher than his father's chin. The surrounding warriors tensed but did not move forward. Lendri said loud enough for all to hear, "Then there is still vengeance." Snarling, Haerul backhanded Lendri, knocking him to the ground. "You dare speak to me of vengeance?" Haerul shouted. "You? Were it not for you, your sister would still be alive. It was your treachery that lost her to us!"
Mingan growled and bared his fangs. "Chu set, Mingan!" Lendri spat blood and struggled to his feet. "Hlessa gave her heart to Gyaidun, and their love gave them a child. It was my sacred duty to her child-beyond all oaths of clan and family. I held my honor, and I would do it again." "Curse your honor," said Haerul. "Your honor killed your sister and her son." "Erun may still live." Haerul's eyes hardened. "Twelve years, hrayek. Twelve years the boy has been gone.
Even if he is still alive, what will he be? After all these years? He was never more than-" The chieftain stopped and looked to the surrounding warriors. "Never more than what?" said Lendri, his voice cold. "A half breed? And you curse my honor. He is your grandson, your blood!" Haerul roared, more than a little of the wolf entering his voice. He punched Lendri to the ground and raised the knife. "Enough!" said a new voice. The omah nin froze, and every eye turned to the figure approaching from outside the ring of gathered warriors. At first glance, he seemed an old man, for he walked with a tall staff and his hair was long and wild, as if it had seen no brush but the wind for years. Tattoos in hues of black, green, and blue covered his face and arms, and red runes much like the omah nin's shown above and below each eye. He was dressed in skins and furs, but a great elkhide cloak draped his shoulders so that as the wind caught it he seemed some dark and angry bird of prey descending on the scene. But he was an elf, no doubt. Pointed ears protruded from his hair, no wrinkle creased his skin, and his eyes held the cant of the others. Seeing him, Haerul stepped back from Lendri, turned to the newcomer, and fell to his knees. "Belkagen Kwarun! I did not know you were among us." "I have just arrived," said the belkagen. He looked at Lendri, who lay in the grass, arms bound behind his back and blood smeared down his chin.