Alvarr did not trail the leader back toward camp. In a way, he had expected this moment to come. Laren had never fully accepted him, after all. Though the mage still felt echoes of the pleasure they had shared, why would it have changed anything?
He threw back my gift.
Alvarr stayed within the sanctuary of the woods, hoping to let the silence quiet his own unsettled thoughts. Around him, things grew unnaturally out of season, but this, too, was changing.
As soon as the mage turned away, what had grown withered and disappeared. The barren ground could no longer support anything, even with the help of Alvarr.
The Elders are right. The land itself is ill.
And as the stallion tribe's only mage, Alvarr was the only one who could heal it. He realized that now.
Not even Laren could. The stallion leader was still afraid of magic, still unwilling to accept anything out of order. Alvarr supposed that made sense, but the thought was not a comfort. He remembered what Barron had said: You're powerful, Alvarr. Everyone can feel it. Thane and Nassor think you're as powerful as our leader.
He tossed his head. At least there was nothing to hold him back from seeking his own answers. Finding a nest of dried leaves and needles, he shifted to man-shape and settled down to rest and meditate until the cover of deep darkness.
When a nightbird's shriek pulled him out of his trance, Alvarr's mood had darkened as well. He'd tried to relax his power and let his energy mix with the whole of Nature's, yet where they were was as empty of power as an old stream bed. But he had energy to spare.
This shouldn't be happening. His hand went to his stomach, where he perceived the power to be trapped, and tried to release it. If anything, the knot of energy tightened.
The mage rose and shifted to four-legs until he got close to the camp. Then, on silent human feet, he padded into the main entrance. No one was awake. He did not go to his dwelling but headed for the dim white shape of the healer's tent.
Carefully, he entered the dark interior and paused, listening for any Elders who may be sleeping toward the back. Their breathing sounded, light and even, and he knelt next to the rock that hid Elder Mastok's book.
It's all right if they wake up. Of anyone, they will understand. Still, Alvarr did not want anyone to hold him back. He lifted the rock and withdrew the strange set of flat pale leaves with the ancient tribe's wisdom somehow preserved on it.
Then, he shifted, and his horn glowed like starlight. With its point, he moved the thick, solid leaf from its place, opening it to the thin leaves inside. The top leaf had unreadable squiggles in brown.
Shifting again to man-shape, he groped for the top leaf and moved it to show the next one. He shifted, examining it by the light of his horn. In this way, he worked through the leaves. Some had drawings of the mare-mage and her mate, the black stallion.
He quickly left those behind him, not wanting to revisit the sad story. Toward the last few leaves, Alvarr found the page he needed. Black pointed shapes were at the center of the page. If I am right, those are our mountains.
He found the river, where he had never gone before. "Have you ever been to the river?" the Elder had asked. Something was there, something the Elder had seen.
Alvarr examined the drawing, but there was nothing more to it. The terrain beyond the river had been left blank. He wrapped the collection of leaves back in that wondrous white cloth, and put it back under the rock.
I have to be alone, as a mage, but no one else does. If there is any truth in what the Elders say, I can make it so that no colt has to live without mother or sire, and Larea and her stallion won't have to live apart.
Like Laren, he would serve and protect his tribe. If there was proof of mates, Alvarr was going to find it.
As he stood up, he put his hand on his stomach. A flutter of unease rose at the thought of what he was about to do. He was going to leave his home. Not for a night, but possibly for many nights, and his stallion instincts rebelled.
We are not nomadic, like the mares. We are territorial and drawn toward home. In this, he was like any other stallion.
But he alone could escape the night-fear. He was protected by Nature. There had to be a reason he was born now, when everything was going wrong. Either he was part of the corruption, or he was the one who can heal it.
Alvarr stood at the tent's entrance, listened for a moment, then walked out on silent feet. He went away from the camp's main exit that all the stallions used. Cutting between woven dwellings and trees, the mage listened for anyone stirring, but all was silent.
Goodbye, my tribe, he thought at the sleeping stallions. Though you don't care for me, I wish Nature's blessings on you all. I will return with answers. Or he wouldn't return at all.
As he walked in the direction of the river, his lip curled. No wonder no one came here. Even in man-shape, he could smell the thick stink of romeya as he crushed those hateful flowers with every step.
Up ahead, Alvarr saw a large mound of piled earth and branches. It looked too regular in shape to be natural. He shifted to four-legs and smelled the air, but nothing came to his nose but romeya, the distant water, and dry wind. He cautiously trotted closer to the mound, which stood as high as his chest.
When he got closer, his step faltered. The moonlight showed what the mound truly was: a collapsed dwelling. Alvarr dug through the old, brittle debris with his hoof. It crumbled and splintered at his touch.
It has been many generations since anyone has lived here. He lifted his head and looked around. With his keen equine eyes, he saw what his human eyes had missed. Scattered here and there along the land were many such mounds, all abandoned and decaying. It had been an entire settlement.
Did we settle here first and move into the current camp? Or... did they used to be many, many more than they were now? It was a chilling thought. There were empty dwellings in their camp already. Had they once needed to fill these dwelling all the way down to the river?
Was this why the Elder had asked if he'd been this way? The mage examined other mounds, but they were just like the ones they currently used. Though he'd hoped for answers, he found none in the old branches and dirt. Nature had reclaimed them a long time ago.
Is this proof that the tribe is in decline? Even if it was, what good would the knowledge do? Alvarr continued walking toward the river.
All he saw were more such dwellings. His horn did not glow, nor could he sense any whisper of power. In his mind, he saw the drawing of the camp and the river, and the vast land beyond.
His hooves carried him to the edge of the river. He stood on the bank, watching the slow current in the moonlight. At his feet, exposed rocks showed where the water used to run, but the dry season had made it recede. It would be easy to swim across as equine or man-shape.
Alvarr put one hoof on the rocks, and an invisible resistance pushed back. What is this? He forced himself to go another step. It was as though something was slowing him down, a heavy sensation dragging against his legs. Alvarr put his head down and leaned into it.
Instantly, icy fear coated his body. He shivered and backed away from the river bank. Something was there. Something magical. Alvarr shifted to man-shape and walked toward the water again. As soon as the cold current closed over his ankles, the thick barrier tugged at him, but not as strongly.
He took a deep breath and waded in deeper, fighting both the water and the magical barrier. His long hair trailed behind him as the water reached his waist, but the rocky floor dropped away. It was too deep for his feet to touch.
Nature, protect me! Alvarr closed his eyes and cast himself into the current, swimming for the other side.
Black fear wrapped around him. The direction of the water tried to pull him downstream. The mage didn't dare look at the bank, afraid to find out that he was no closer.
As he swam, a vision rose in his mind.
A small black stallion with white legs, galloping away, many other stallions behind him.
The stallion guiding them across the river in equine shape, shouting.
An aura of fear and terror, some people with wounds that were still bleeding.
The stallion, drawing Nature's Order to himself, laying a compulsion tied to the land itself between the mountains and the river, then collapsing at the water's edge, barely breathing.
Alvarr's feet scraped rock, and he found the bottom of the river. He crossed the rest of the way and rested against a boulder, wringing water from his soaked hair. That had been the first leader of the stallion tribe, guiding all his terrified brothers to their new home. How far had they fled?
He shivered, though he was not chilled. There was a difference in the air on the other side of the river, as though it was a little thinner.
No, the mage realized. It was the feeling of being absolutely alone. He gazed back toward home, though he could not see it. If he came to harm, no stallion would be able to cross the river to come to him.
*
Alvarr awoke at first light, his cheek against a tree's scratchy, broad branch. He'd sheltered there for the night in man-shape and was grateful he had not fallen out. Strange smells, the scents of other creatures, had come to him on the wind, and he had not wanted to make himself into easy prey.
A bird scolded him with a shrill chirp. "I'm leaving," he said, and stiffly climbed down, cursing as his ever-long hair snagged on every bump and twig.
He shifted to four-legs and drank from the river. From this direction, he felt none of the dragging barrier of fear. It is as though I'm the only one living in this land. But the land here was the same as the other side. Trees with dry, brown leaves. Cracked and parched land with very little green. Alvarr took the opportunity to draw water from the wet ground near the river and encourage the grass to grow.
After he had eaten his fill, he continued past the stand of trees he had slept in. Tan earthen hills peeked through sparse green bushes and plants, and thankfully, no romeya. Still, it was clear that there had been no rain for many days.
The mage trotted over the land. For once, he was thankful for his smaller size because the land could sustain him. If Nassor attempted the journey, he'd be far too hungry.
All around him was more of the same terrain, but something was pulling him on, some instinct that guided him over the hills. Where am I going? he asked Nature's power, but received no answer. He only knew that he was traveling far beyond where anyone else in his tribe had gone.
Evening turned the shadows purple, and the sun blazed a brilliant red-gold before it sank below the horizon. Alvarr smelled the change in the air immediately, and felt the night-fear rolling over him. He looked around for somewhere to shelter, but there was nothing, just a few small trees clinging to life in the dry land.
They are better than nothing. He started toward the small protection of the trees, but the wind rose, bringing a strange, wild scent to his nose, a hot scent of blood and meat. A predator. His coat twitched, and all the hairs along his spine raised. He could not tell how far away this strange creature was.
Too late, he remembered to look down. There in the dust were large split tracks, much bigger than his own. The mage had stumbled upon another being's domain. He changed direction, wanting to walk around the trees.
A growly voice sounded. "Who? Who?"
Alvarr froze, his hooves rooted to the ground. His horn gave no light to help him see. He held his breath as two flickering eyes emerged from the trees. "A-ah," he said as the rest of the being came into view. He stepped backward and reached for power, but Nature, cold and cruel, flowed beneath his feet, taking no notice.
The being advanced. It was as large as Alvarr, and a crude intelligence shone from its eyes. Tusks protruded from a long snout, pointed toward the mage as it walked forward with four legs that looked too long for its body.
"Can you shift?" Alvarr asked weakly, shuffling backward. "Do you have a man-shape?"
The creature just rumbled low in its throat, a deep, frightening sound, and pointed its tusks toward the mage.