Samual (10 page)

By the first hour he'd practically retold them every single detail of the battle a hundred times over. By the second they'd known almost the entirety of his life. The only thing he managed to hold back was his family name, though they'd known he was keeping it back and had been far from happy about it. But it was a matter of honour, not to mention safety, and Sam had stayed firm.

While in Shavarra he had used his mother's maiden name and had been known as Samawain Ellosian. It was even more vital that if they entered into Fair Fields lands, as he assumed they would, that they use only that name. The creator would have to have mercy on them all if any of the people of Fair Fields ever realised he was Samual Hanor.

But slowly they'd at least started to accept his assertions that he wasn't a criminal. That those suits of blackened snake scale armour were from those who had hunted him. After all why else would he have had three, only one of which might even have come close to fitting him? Or so many poisoned stilettos? Persuading them that the tomes of fire, earth and nature magic were his by right had been more difficult, as he still couldn't give them his true name. But weak as he had been when he had fled Fair Fields, he had still been the ranking wizard in Fall Keep. As such he was the rightful custodian of the tomes and none could take that from him.

Though they might have listened to his words Sam was sure that they hadn't accepted his assertion that the tomes belonged to him. Least ways he hadn't noticed any of the wizards looking to give him his tomes back. Not without proof, and somehow he suspected, not even with it. Ranking human wizard or not, he was a half elven wizard of enormous power, and well intentioned or otherwise they clearly considered him dangerous. In their eyes he was a wild creature suddenly residing free among them. They didn't know the half of it. But then that was something his brother would learn instead and he'd let that knowledge sustain him.

When darkness had finally fallen on Sam's the day, the interrogation had finally ceased, but far from being able to breathe a sigh of relief, his woes had only begun to grow again.

The battle masters had left early on, having decided they could learn no more from him and had duties to attend to. And happily for him the priests had left too. They had duties to attend to. Though unhappily they had promised to return. But the elder wizards and members of the Ruling Council had remained. They too had learned enough of him to make their own judgements – often unfair ones in his opinion – and so instead of continuing with the questioning, they'd moved on to the chastisement phase of the ritual. And it was a ritual, though it had taken him a while to realise that. He recognised it in the way each new elder was given his own turn to berate him. It was like a pecking order among chickens, except that he was the only one being pecked.

The Council elders and particularly the wizards had taken it in turns to explain to him how badly he'd failed in everything he'd done. In coming to Shavarra, in having such books of power, in not having immediately spoken to the local guild about his talent and the books, in having lived apart from the elves and in having thought of the elves as hostile to him. In practically everything he'd done.

The list of his mistakes seemed to keep on growing, and not once had any of them mentioned the fact that he'd destroyed their pursuers and in doing so allowed them to travel more slowly and yet safely away from the enemy. Thanks to him the once panicked retreat had become a properly organised exodus. They had managed to spend some time however, decrying the devastation he'd caused to their beloved forest.

And so his long day had continued, as he'd had to listen to endless lectures about his many failings.

His sole comfort as the hour grew late was in the knowledge that he had finally found all the strength he needed and more to do what he should have done five years before. In a few days, perhaps a week he would be fully recovered, and regardless of what the elves wanted, he was going to reclaim his wife. Nothing could stop him any longer, not with the power he'd finally found within himself. Not his half-brother. Not his half-brother's guards. Not even the whole castle. He carefully kept that plan a secret though. The elves would not have approved, and they would surely have tried to stop him.

“Don't you know why those of half elven and half human blood are hard to accept?” Elder Bela, Master of nature magic and a member of the Ruling Council itself, began his turn chastising Sam.

“No Elder.” Sam tried to sound as though he was listening, but really he wasn't. It was late and Master Bela was simply the latest in a long line of accusers. Unfortunately he might not have been convincing judging by the scowl that appeared on the Elder's already long face. But then he was growing tired and Master Bela's complaints were much the same as everyone else's. It was getting hard to keep his eyes open. And to remember not to speak.

“Because those of your blood are so powerful!” The Elder raised his voice a little, perhaps in frustration.

“Powerful?” That caught Sam's attention. It even woke him up a little.

“Those bolts you threw were so strong that every magic user in a dozen leagues felt them. And the fire ring, that's something that even an experienced master of fire would have trouble conjuring let alone surviving. Your power is immense. And you've been hiding out in our lands for five years, pretending to be a simple soldier – while all the time practising your magic without permission, and without even an instructor!”

“But –!”

“Creator have mercy on us all! You could have destroyed the whole town by accident!”

“But –”

Sam wanted to say, yet again, that he hadn't ever thought to unleash such power, hadn't even known that he could, and that had he known he would never have done it in or near the town or intentionally harmed any elves. But the Elder shut him up before he could say any of that, and he realised it wouldn't have mattered anyway. This wasn't about him defending himself. It was about him being told off. This wasn't a conversation.

“Don't interrupt me boy. I'm not finished with you yet!”

Sam was cowed once more before the Elder, who looked to be working himself up into a full blown tantrum. It wouldn't be the first of the day and probably not the last either. It was better just to take it in silence and glean the few pearls of wisdom he gathered from each master in turn as they berated him. Because despite everything else, these sessions were the first real chance he'd had to learn anything about why the elves disliked half elves so much.

“As I said, all human elven offspring often have potential strengths greater and stranger than either of their parent races for reasons we don't fully understand. They often have wild unpredictability with it. Sometimes it's physical strength or impossible health, and some of your most powerful knights and our finest soldiers carry mixed elven human blood in them. Sometimes it's magic. All the most powerful wizards in any land carry both people's blood. And just occasionally it's something else entirely, like speed or charisma as they move faster than the eye can see or persuade others to their cause, however insane.”

“We call people with your heritage ‘vero eskaline', which means storm blood, and refers to the fact that children of such blood are touched by the wild side of nature. Something I think even you can accept at least now.”

Actually Sam had heard the phrase, whispered behind his back from time to time, and had wondered what it meant. It was a High Elvish term that had become part of regular Elvish. Unfortunately with his relatively poor mastery of the tongue he'd translated it as strong blood wind, and always thought it some sort of slight upon his character, though he'd never been game to ask. He liked the Elder's translation better.

“Our people don't detest you for your nature. Never did. They're simply frightened of you!” That at least woke Sam up from his fugue state. Frightened? Of him? That was something which had never occurred to him. He'd never posed any threat to the elves; never wanted to. All he'd ever wanted was to live in peace and rescue his wife.

“But –” His objection died on his lips as he saw the look in the Elder's eyes. He still wasn't finished with him.

“If you had been born in Shavarra, you would have been raised carefully. Watched over by elders and priests looking for any sign of the talents granted you by your blood. But you would never have been unwelcome. Far from it. As vero eskaline you would have been considered a blessing. A great boon to our people, and in time when your gifts became known, you would have been trained in them properly. Some of our greatest leaders, elders, soldiers and wizards carry the same blood as you, and they are honoured for it.”

“Had you come openly as an adult and told our people of your talents – had you accepted the guidance of the elders – the same would have still been true. You would have been brought to our wisest and taught carefully. But you did no such thing.”

“Instead you arrived as an outsider, and you remained as one. A dangerous stranger living within our midst. One whose gifts were unknown, whose friendship even was uncertain but who was known as vero eskaline. A warrior who didn't trust the people enough to tell them his true name. How would you expect our people to react?”

“If – and I say this with the utmost emphasis – if you were to live among the elves of Torin Vale – truly live among them and let them know you as you let yourself know them – you would be welcomed by them. They're not unfriendly people. They're just nervous around you. After all, they know you're half elven, half human. Therefore they know you're unpredictable and powerful. But they know nothing else about you. There's nothing about you that says you've adapted to our ways, or that you even want to.”

“And that has to change.” If he had been telling him off before, suddenly the Elder became even more forceful as he instructed him as he surely would any naughty student.

“You live apart from us in our midst. You dress like a human soldier at war when our lands have always been at peace. You even cut your hair like one, with that crude shaven skull.”

It wasn't crude! But Sam stopped himself from protesting out loud. It wouldn't help. And if the Elder didn't understand that close cropped hair was valuable when you wore a helm, that was his failing he decided.

“You speak our language yet seem to understand little if anything of our soul. You keep your past a secret, thinking either that we would not realise how little you reveal of yourself, or that we should not know. No more do you carry any elven markings. You display nothing of your family or kin to show you belong among us; nothing of any elven academies attended or stations achieved, nor of any normal elven trade practised.”

Sam would have objected to that too if he thought he could have got a word in, but the Elder had a point. He did perhaps stand outside the fold, by his choice as well as by theirs. It would have helped perhaps if he'd spent some time at the shrine in town. Perhaps offered a small tribute to the Goddess now and then. But he was from Fair Fields, raised all his life to follow the teachings of the All Father. Although he had nothing against the Goddess, it would have felt like a betrayal.

“You don't even tell us the truth of your name!”

Sam groaned briefly. Just when he'd thought things were coming to an end, they were back to that again. If there was one thing the elders hated even more than what he had done to their forests, it was not being trusted by him. And yet it was not a choice.

“Elder, that is for your protection as well as mine. If I did, if my birth name were made known, the consequences would be dire. For me, for my loved ones, and also for anyone foolish enough to be too near. You've already seen the wares of those who last came to kill me. There were many more before them. I have been attacked by assassins almost without number over the years, and they are only those who made it through the border patrols – the few who somehow managed to track me.”

“Imagine how many more would come should my name become common knowledge and people know where I live. At the risk of being rude Elder, I repeat; I am not a criminal. I have committed no crime in any land. I have the books by right, and I mean no harm to anyone. I simply hide from those who would do me harm. And there are many of them.” It had to be the hundredth time he'd said the same thing, and they still kept coming back to it, like a dog with a bone.

“In that at least Elder, I think he speaks the truth.” A woman's voice came from behind him, and Sam turned to see that a rider on a roan mare had joined them. When she'd arrived, he didn't know. Between his tiredness and the endless tirades, she could have been there for hours without him noticing.