Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Thirty-Six: Ailill

Ailill

He knew he was worrying his sister, but he could do nothing about it. The call was louder and louder as he kept moving, the elf-bred stallion lithe and smooth under him.

“Ali, where are we going?”

He could barely hear her over the call of the beastkin. It was only now that he realised he had been hearing it all his life. A faint thrumming that surged through his blood, keeping him alive, as it had since the beginning of time.

He had always known who he was. What he was.

“Ali?” She was worried, but he barely heard her. “Ali.”

She was beside him now. He closed his eyes, and he felt her hand on his arm, keeping him steady. He guessed he was swaying in his saddle. Under him, the stallion danced in place, trying to keep him steady in his own way.

“Ali, listen to me.” She was pleading with him. “Stay with me, big brother. You’re not alone.”

He forced himself to take a breath, forced himself to open his eyes, forced himself to look at her.

“What?” Despite the rough word, it was barely a whisper. Her eyes were full of worry.

“Ali, stay with me,” she begged, holding tight to him. “Don’t leave me. Remember? You promised you wouldn’t.”

Through the song that surged in his blood, he met her eyes. Of course she would remember his promise.

And he had no intention of breaking it again.

With a great effort, he pushed the song to the side, still able to hear it, but now he could hear her better.

“Kura.”

Relief shone in her eyes, but she still didn’t let go. “Yes. Ali, do you have to continue?”

He fought for breath. “I must.”

“No, Ali. You’re exhausted. Please, rest. The girl is falling asleep in her saddle. You’re nearly there. Be sensible for once.”

He made no response, his eyes fluttering shut once more.

“Damnú ort, Ali! Listen to me!”

He managed to look at her, roused by the song of their native tongue. “Kura, I can’t stop. He’s too close.”

“Ali, listen to me,” she begged. “Stop. Rest. You’re nearly falling off, and not even the stallion will be able to keep you seated for much longer. We can continue when you’re rested. Surely the Soul will understand. He’s been waiting so long, can’t he wait a few more hours?”

He made no answer at first. She waited in silence, but he knew that she wasn’t patient.

At last, he spoke, softly.

“Half an hour’s walk, there is a resting place. It was once our ancestors’. We need to get there before the sun leaves us.”

As he’d known she would, she looked up. There was barely enough time to make it.

“Can you go any faster?”

He nodded. “For you,” he muttered, and the stallion leapt forward. He could hear the thundering of hooves behind him, but he could take it no longer. Trusting the stallion, he leant over the horse’s neck, resting his head on the warm hide, and closed his eyes.

The only way to escape the song was to sleep.

Even in his dreams, the song was there, weaving through his mind, and guiding the stallion’s steady steps. It wasn’t long before they came to the rest place he had spoken of, dreamed of.

The last place of their ancestors.

All the horses stopped, and he at last could slide down, nearly collapsing on the thick leaf litter of the forest. He buried his hands in it, closing his eyes, drawing the strength to continue.

As he must.

It wasn’t long before his sister came to him, putting a careful hand on his arm.

“Ali?”

He made no sound, but he was listening.

“Ali, come eat.”

He nearly smiled. There was a tremor in her voice, and he knew why. She couldn’t cook, no more than the child could. He himself could barely stay upright.

She didn’t know what to do.

“Kura …” He forced it out of him, and she bent closer.

“I’m here.”

“A flower …” He paused, fighting the song for just a few moments longer. “White flower, tall straight stems. Dark purple leaves.”

She nodded, staring at him. “What about them, Ali?”

“The roots. Eat them.”

“You’re sure?”

He had only the strength and will to nod, and then she left him. Hunaja came to him, nosing her head under his arm, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing strength from her.

“Kiitos,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

She purred, and led him to the fire that the child had made. He sank to the ground, beyond tired. The call was so strong, the song filling his head.

He felt like he was going to break.

When his sister returned, he had recovered enough to help her make the meal, his deft hands not slowing or pausing in their work. Both of them watched in wonder as he turned the rough and dirty looking roots into something edible, and he smiled a little at it.

“Eat them,” he said quietly. “They’re good for you.”

To no surprise of his, both had identical expressions of disgust on their faces. He shook his head slightly, and ate his own portion without thought. He’d had to live on the roots often enough before.

They stared at the roots, then at him, then back at the roots for a while longer, and finally ate. He could feel his sister’s concerned gaze on him throughout the meal.

“Ali,” she finally said. “Are you sure about this?”

He sighed, meeting her eyes. “We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

It seemed to be the answer she was expecting. “Alright. How much further?”

He closed his eyes, listing for the strength and direction of the call.

“The Forgotten City,” he murmured. “The Soul is in the heart.”

Kura’s Curses:

Damnú ort – Damn you

Kiitos – thank you