10 A choice

The sun was still shining in the sky when Dashvara and Tsu walked towards the gate of the palisade.

First and foremost, both of them had resolved that whatever Tsu was going to do, it must not harm any of the Xalyas. So the first thing they both decided was not to say a word to them about the escape. Then they thought that, since Tsu could not easily deceive the vigilance of the federal patrols, the best thing to do was to make up a credible story and try to get out through the front door. If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t, Tsu promised he would settle for just imagining that he had spoken with these drows. Imagination was sometimes a pretty safe substitute for rash actions.

The Xalyas, of course, suspected something. Dashvara had told them that he was going to the swamps to pick up one last piece of good wood to carve once he got to Titiaka and that he would be back before nightfall. He had not lied to them: that was exactly what he thought he would do. But when Makarva had worriedly offered to go with them, Dashvara had refused, and his refusal had confirmed everyone’s suspicions. By mutual agreement, he and the drow had abandoned the barracks before anyone really started asking questions. Zorvun had merely frowned. Who knows what he thought of all this…

Dashvara sighed silently as they walked the last few steps to the newly repaired door. He reached out a hand and opened it without anyone calling out to him. Two federates standing guard on the other side jumped when they saw them come out with a quiet but firm step.

“Hello, federates,” Dashvara said. “Is there any movement at the edge?”

The guards consulted each other, disconcerted.

“Are you going out?” one asked.

Dashvara raised an eyebrow.

“I remind you that we are the Doomed of Compassion. Before you came, we went out patrolling every day.”

He and Tsu took a few steps forward on the grass, but the guards didn’t hold them back. Great. Dashvara turned to add:

“By the way, you didn’t answer me. Did you perceive any movement at the edge? In the barracks, we don’t know anything about what’s going on in the swamps lately. Are those Naskrahs finally gone?”

“Those what?” one of the guards repeated, nervously.

The other shrugged.

“These last four days have been very quiet, Doomed. I don’t think you’re in any danger if you don’t stray too far from the edge. Are you going to get firewood?”

Dashvara rolled his eyes.

“Wood for carving, federate. Trying to make fire with the wood of these trees is more or less like trying to make fire with water. Farewell, federate.”

“Farewell, Doomed.” Faced with his companion’s quizzical look, the guard murmured, “Surely they know what they are doing.”

Following Tsu, Dashvara walked down to the edge, wondering why on earth they thought the federates were going to stop them from getting out. After all, Compassion was their sector, and in theory, it was the only place where they could move freely.

Well, he sighed. We’ve done the easy part; now to the hard part: finding those damned drows without them killing us first.

They entered the swamps. They had been there countless times over the past three years, and Dashvara doubted that many of the Doomed had spent more than a week wandering through Ariltuan as they had. Both of them knew the area well, but that didn’t stop them from turning grim as their boots sank a yard deep into the mire. The dense vegetation soon hid them from Compassion. They walked for a while, wading through the swamp while listening to the irregular whistling of birds and insects. A large, red-feathered bird flapped its wings noisily, fluttering over the treetops, and Dashvara smiled, thinking that it might be Scarlet, Miflin’s bird. At one point, he thought he heard suspicious footsteps and splashing. He stopped for a moment and raised his hand to one of his swords in concern. Normally, milfids didn’t venture this close to the edge until after dark. But this could very well be an orc expedition.

“If these drows are from Shjak, they must be delighted with this land,” Dashvara commented wryly, and resumed walking. The land of Shjak was said to be a pine-forested area with relatively dry soil.

“As much as us, I guess,” Tsu agreed. Finally, they came to a small clearing, and the drow stopped, “Dash, I think you’ve gone far enough.”

Dashvara shook his head, confused.

“No, Tsu. I can’t let you go on alone.”

The drow’s bloody eyes riveted into his.

“I’m not going to let you take any more risks for me. It’s bad enough that you’ve accompanied me here. Now, please, cut that damn piece of wood and go back to Compassion. Say you’ve lost sight of me.”

Dashvara gestured exasperatedly to the sword Tsu wore at his belt.

“You don’t even know how to handle it. What if a milfid attacks you before you find the drows?”

“I will defend myself,” Tsu replied, stone-faced. “Dash, remember that the drows of Shjak are at war with Diumcili. If they see you with me, they will kill you.” They glared at each other, and the drow muttered, “I’ve seen you suffer enough as it is.”

Dashvara knew exactly what he was talking about. Of the two, he felt that Tsu was the one who had been more traumatized by the endless hours of torture he had subjected him to under Arviyag’s orders three years ago. He sighed, giving him a gloomy look.

“If you don’t find them, come back to Compassion,” he said at last, with a heavy heart. He couldn’t believe he was abandoning the drow in the middle of this carnivorous nest…

Tsu smiled.

“If I don’t find them, the last thing I’d think of would be to stay here and spend the night with the orcs.” He hesitated. “Dash, if we don’t meet again…”

He did not continue; knowing that it was difficult for the drow to talk about feelings, Dashvara completed:

“If we don’t meet again, we will miss each other like two old friends. I hope you can finally enjoy freedom, Tsu.”

The drow bowed his head, and his eyes sparkled with emotion.

“I hope that you will find it soon, my friend.”

Smiling, Dashvara gave him a brotherly hug in farewell. The drow was small, even smaller than Shurta, and unlike Shurta, he was not even stout. He almost looked like a child. But, of course, Dashvara knew perfectly well that he was far from being one. He put on a more serene expression before stepping aside and solemnly saying:

“May the Eternal Bird guide you, brother.”

The drow smiled frankly, and without another word, he walked away, crossed the clearing, and slipped through the vines, trees, and mud. Dashvara watched him disappear, unmoving, feeling almost guilty about what he was about to do. Almost.

As soon as he lost sight of Tsu, he followed him. His friend intended to get to his people’s camp alive, and Dashvara was going to make sure that he did. And if they caught him… he would deal with it in time.

It was not easy to follow a person through a swamp without being seen. The orcs were able to do it easily because they climbed trees and their hands held on tightly so they wouldn’t fall, even though the trunks were wet and slippery. Dashvara simply walked through the mud as stealthily as possible.

You’re a man of the steppe, and you try to be sneaky by wading through the mud… What do you bet Tsu finds out about you eventually?

However, the drow seemed absorbed in his thoughts. Would he even notice if a milfid stood in his way? Dashvara suppressed an incredulous sigh when he saw that Tsu was slowing down. Suddenly, the drow stopped in the middle of shrubs with huge leaves; he shook his head. Was he plunged into some inner monologue? It seemed so.

‘Are you spying on a friend, Dash?’

Dashvara almost let out a grunt of surprise. He controlled himself and glanced at Tahisran, who was lurking beside him. How had he managed to follow their trail? Dashvara knew that tracks disappeared quickly in this mire… but perhaps the murky water had guided him, he thought.

Of course, he did not answer his question: a drow’s hearing is finer than a human’s, and he could not be sure if Tsu could have heard a whisper. So he simply pointed to his sabers with his thumb, made a vague gesture around, and indicated his eyes and then Tsu. The shadow seemed to understand and remained motionless, expectant.

Are you going to stay here and not move until the milfids wake up, drow? Dashvara growled inwardly.

Almost immediately, Tsu resumed his walk. Only to stop again about twenty steps further on. What the hell was happening to him now?

‘He looks indecisive,’ Tahisran observed.

It was obvious, but Dashvara couldn’t figure out why. Was there something he couldn’t see from his position? It was likely, since he was tucked in between the bushes and couldn’t see much.

Tsu had just taken another step when he let out a muffled cry of surprise, drew his sword, then… let out a nervous chuckle. He muttered something to himself, as if to calm down, and took a breath of air. Then, to Dashvara’s astonishment, he turned around and started walking briskly. The Xalya exchanged a disconcerted look with Tahisran. Was there any logic to what the drow was doing, or had he lost his mind?

It was at this moment that Dashvara heard the characteristic clank of a weapon being drawn from its scabbard. A slender, hooded drow with a less severe face than Tsu’s stepped in his way, his head cocked to one side.

“Can we know where the hell you came from?” he asked him in Common Tongue. The voice was reminiscent of a surprised child. However, the size of that being was not that of a child but rather that of a teenager.

Dashvara remained as still as a stone. If there was a drow there… there must be others around. He glanced around discreetly, and despite his efforts to keep a cool head, he thought he saw suspicious figures everywhere.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll warn you if they attack you from behind,’ Tahisran promised.

Dashvara nodded very slightly as Tsu, who looked no less tense than he did, replied:

“My name is Tsu. I come from the Tower of Compassion, and I have been a slave since I was born. I have come to…”

He paused as the other drow sheathed his sword and removed his hood, revealing long, smooth white hair. Dashvara couldn’t quite make out his expression, but it didn’t seem hostile. However, Tsu had flinched, and Dashvara became concerned.

“You have come to know your people,” the white-haired drow completed. His voice grew deeper and more serene.

Tsu, on the other hand, seemed to be getting more and more altered. He ran a hand over his forehead, as if to wipe away the sweat.

“You are…?” he stammered. “You’re a Hakassu?”

“Yes,” the Naskrah smiled. “That should not surprise you, my son. I suppose you already know the purpose for which my people have come here.”

He added something in an unfamiliar language, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tsu nodded and answered him, pronouncing each syllable indecisively. Dashvara held back an annoyed sigh. What could they possibly be saying to each other now?

Well, who cares as long as they get along? he thought. Let’s hope those two get away from here soon. It’s high time we got back to Compassion. Especially since the light was already beginning to get very dim in the undergrowth, and if night caught him halfway, he preferred not to think about what might happen.

Huddled by the shrub, he barely dared to blink. He heard a splashing sound and saw an amphibian approaching him out of the corner of his eye. It was a satriton, he noted while relaxing. It was not dangerous as long as one did not touch its stinging skin. The satriton passed within a few feet of him without paying attention and dove into the mud like a mole. Soon the mosquitoes began to buzz in his ears, and he ran out of patience. As if this was the ideal place for a meeting, really… Couldn’t these two go to where the drows had settled?

The sounds of the night were awakening, mournful, and ominous as omens of death. Dashvara shivered as he looked for the shadow, but could not find it. Tahisran could have gone without him noticing, but his intuition told him that it was still sitting near him. And he confirmed it when the shadow commented:

‘It’s a shame I never got interested in this language. The truth is that I was never very good at the languages of the Underground. And yet I studied quite a few of them at the School of Gon.’

He paused as the whispers of the drows could still be heard. They had moved away, and with the increasing darkness, their voices had been reduced to mere whispers. And they were still talking…

‘This is the language of the drows of Shjak,’ Tahisran observed. ‘Tell me, Dash, do you know who the Hakassu are? No? Really?’ Dashvara wondered how the shadow saw him shaking his head in that darkness. ‘Well, I do,’ Tahisran confessed in a modest tone. ‘The Hakassu are the royal family that once ruled the lands of Shjak. I passed through there years ago, long before I even locked myself in that tower in the Underground, but when I passed through there again looking for the girl’s parents, the Hakassu no longer ruled and had become a sort of sacred royal family. So this white-haired drow is a member of this sacred family. What I wonder is how many of them there are. Maybe a lot more. I’ve known places where the families had hundreds of members. That is, they were families with fifth cousins and that sort of things…’ he smiled mentally. ‘I hope I’m not boring you. Anyway, you don’t have much to do except listen to me, do you? It’s a bit like me when I was in that crate: I couldn’t move, and I had no choice but to listen to the pirates’ chatter. There’s nothing worse than being confused with something sacred, believe me. These Hakassu must be tired of being idols to their people.’

He paused for another long moment. Then he informed him:

‘They’re gone.’

Dashvara’s eyes widened. He couldn’t see anything. He wanted to ask him, “Are you sure?” But he didn’t even dare to sigh. Even so, he couldn’t stay there any longer: his legs were shaking with fatigue, and he felt that, if he stayed there any longer, his ears would start pouring out mud.

He stood up slowly, coming out of his hiding place, and his boots made a sucking sound as he pulled himself out of the muck like a mold.

“I can’t see, Tah,” he muttered.

‘Give me your hand. I will guide you.’

Dashvara held back a burst of incredulous laughter. Eternal Bird, is he serious?

‘Dash? Did you hear me?’ the shadow asked, worried.

Dashvara smiled in the dark and had no better idea than to follow Tahisran’s advice. He reached out blindly and felt the shadow take his hand with its own, cold but firm.

In silence, they began to advance. A cry of milfid could be heard in the distance. It was replaced by the closer croaking of frogs. Dashvara stifled another nervous laugh.

“Tah… This is crazy. Can you really see anything in this darkness?”

‘Strictly speaking, I can’t, not really. But I am a perceptist,’ he said, as if that explained everything.

Dashvara knew from Tsu that perceptism was a celmist art that allowed to check the surroundings with spells. What he didn’t know was how reliable those were.

Bah, he thought. Trust Tah and just keep it quiet.

A few moments later, as if an evil spirit had tried to upset him, his chest constricted, and a hacking cough shook him. Tah stopped pulling him.

‘Gee,’ he murmured, saddened. ‘You’re still sick, after all this time.’

“It’s these swamps,” Dashvara explained, catching his breath. “Tsu says it doesn’t do me any good. It was much worse during the sixth escape, believe me. If Tsu hadn’t been there with his potion, I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

‘Dash…’ Tahisran cleared its throat.

“Don’t worry, I suppose I’ll get better in Titiaka,” Dashvara said. “If only we can get out of here.”

‘Dash,’ the shadow repeated.

Then Dashvara noticed the troubled tone that vibrated in Tahisran’s mental voice, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

“What?”

‘We are surrounded.’

Of course, nobody can say that I was especially discreet coughing like a maniac… A strange resignation overcame Dashvara, which didn’t stop his heart from beating like a runaway horse.

“Then run, Tah,” he whispered. “At worst, I’ll join you in the grave.”

Several hurried splashes and a grunt were heard.

“Dash, what the hell are you doing here?”

He almost choked on his saliva when he recognized Tsu’s voice. Relief rendered him speechless for a few seconds.

“Tsu!” He knew that drows had strange night vision, and he would have bet that the doctor could see him. He hissed through his teeth, his voice unsure. “What am I doing here, you say? Well, hey, you see: I’m cutting up pieces of wood.”

A hand grabbed him by the arm, and he stiffened.

“Is that you, Tsu?”

“Yes, it’s me,” the drow muttered. “You followed me?”

“I followed you,” Dashvara confirmed.

He heard him speak words in the language of Shjak. With no doubt, this meant that, as Tahisran had said, there were other drows surrounding them. When Tsu fell silent, another voice answered him. And another, from the opposite side, intervened. It sounded like a choir.

Tahisran no longer held his hand, and Dashvara wondered where he had gone. Perhaps a shadow could live for many years, but he doubted he would survive if a drow ran him through with a sword. When Tsu spoke again, he seemed calm, and Dashvara decided that, if the drow was calm, he could be calm too. So he relaxed, and when the drow fell silent, he asked:

“Tell me, Tsu, since you have some friends here with you, could you ask them to give me a lantern to go back to Compassion? Unless they intend to kill me, of course. In that case, I’d just as soon they not light any lanterns.”

“We’re not coming back with any lanterns, Dash. We went without, we’ll come back without.”

Dashvara gasped.

“We?” he repeated, confused. Tsu was already pulling him by the arm. “Wait a moment, Tsu. Will you come back with me?”

“I’ll come back with you,” the drow confirmed. “Come on, don’t worry. We have an escort, nothing will happen to us.”

Dashvara followed him, totally lost. As he hurried along, he heard murmurs of very light footsteps and splattering. For some reason, the drows were going to let him live. He really couldn’t understand why. Eternal Bird, how he longed to get out of this swamp!

“Tsu… I don’t understand,” he murmured. “Didn’t you want to be a free man?”

“Yes. But some things are more important. Stop talking and move on.”

Dashvara raised an eyebrow and kept moving, hoping Tahisran wouldn’t get lost. They were almost to the edge when they began to hear voices.

“Dash!” a voice thundered.

“Tsu!” another shouted.

They were the Xalyas. Dashvara saw the lights of several lanterns between the twisted trunks and blushed with shame. Tsu whispered:

“Good. Take this.” He placed an irregular block in his hand. It was a piece of wood, hard and resistant. Where the hell did Tsu get it? “I’ll give you the official version,” the drow resumed: “while you were cutting your piece of wood, I wandered off to look for medicinal plants. I got lost and came across an orc who gave me a private message from the drows to Captain Faag and… you found me, and that was it. We didn’t see any drows, did we?”

Dashvara didn’t hesitate for a second before nodding. Whatever agreement Tsu had reached with the Naskrahs, he didn’t want to hear it right now.

“Your freedom was short-lived, Tsu. This is the last time I’ll say goodbye to you if it means you’ll be back so soon.” He gave him a mocking grin and huffed impatiently, “Let’s get out of here.”

He headed straight for the lights, dragging boots heavier than two anvils.

“Dash,” Tsu said, holding him back. His voice trembled a little. “You saw me turn back? You saw me, didn’t you?”

The Gem was slowly seeping through the branches, and Dashvara saw an intense glint in the drow’s red eyes. He understood that, in his question, him “turning back” had a deeper meaning. He smiled.

“I saw you, Tsu. And, although I may be acting like a selfish person by saying this, I’m glad you’re coming back with us.”

“Yes…” the drow murmured, following him. “Me too.”

Dashvara heard a long, silent sigh, but he wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

Don’t worry, brother. Decisions like this are neither good nor bad… They just are.