It only took a few minutes for her to find the stairs. She climbed them rapidly at first but then more slowly. The steps were mostly intact; she had to scramble over some debris from time to time. They seemed to go on forever; she put her head down and pressed on doggedly. After half an hour, she had to stop, her heart was pounding and she felt light headed. Ten minutes later, she was on the move again.
The sound of birds became louder the higher she went. With a final burst of energy, she at last reached the end of the stairs and was confronted with a door. She pushed it open and a loud grating sound pierced the air. Hundreds of birds shrieked out as one and took to the sky in alarm.
She stepped out onto a roof terrace and looked out across the city. For as far as she could see lay nothing but man made canyons of ruined buildings. Her heart sank. Then she turned to the east, and saw water, an ocean. Her heart leapt. A small glimmer of hope flickered within.
“Well done. You’ve just announced your presence to all the dead ones in the city…” a voice announced behind her.
Carutha swung around, her sword at the ready. She saw a strange woman crouched beside the door. The first thing that struck Carutha was the woman’s stunning orange hair. It writhed wildly around her head as if blown by a strong breeze. Her hair glowed with life just like the same orange hair on her shoulders, ankles and wrists. Dark swirls of skin pigment adorned her otherwise naked body. Where her bare feet and fingers touched the ground thin tendrils of turquoise energy shimmered up to greet her. It was as if she drew sustenance from the ground itself.
The woman’s eyes were a piercing red colour. Intelligent and calculating. Carutha felt exposed under the woman’s gaze.
“Now, we’d better leave, the breeders will be here soon,” the stranger declared.
“Wait, who are you? What’s your name?” Carutha blurted.
“You may call me Firewing,” the woman said simply.
A spine-chilling screech came up from the square far below followed by others in response. Soon a cacophony of cries filled the air. Carutha peered over the balcony and saw scores of the creatures she had encountered before. Packs of them, coming from every part of the city converging on the open ground below. Firewing was right, she had broadcast her presence to the city dwellers, these breeders, by her carelessness.
“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” Firewing said. “To every problem there is a solution, sometimes even two or three. Come with me and be quick about it. The breeders will be here in minutes.”
Carutha followed Firewing as she climbed up the last remaining part of the tower to the summit spire. As Firewing reached the top her skin shimmered and the blue light at her fingers and feet intensified. Her skin hair lengthened and transformed. Where there had been hair and skin now sprouted feathers.
Carutha immediately thought of Agathe and her abilities. There was a connection here. Different worlds, different challenges and the Erthe had developed alternative solutions to the environment.
“Climb onto my back,” Firewing shouted urgently. Flame flashed in her eyes. She was looking towards the terrace below.
Carutha did not look behind her, she did not need to. She could hear shrieks of the breeders filling the air. They had burst out of the stairwell and were almost on top of them. She reached out and clambered onto Firewing’s feathered back and put trust in her plan.
Firewing let out a triumphant cry and threw herself off the spire, right at the breeders swarming up the roof towards them. Carutha closed her eyes and held on tightly. She felt the wind in her ears, something clawed at her left foot, she lashed out and heard a low moan of pain.
Then a rush, a swoop and falling, falling. Then an updraft and rustling feathers, glorious strong wings opened up around her. They tore at the air and found purchase, they gained height and the wings bore them up, high above the tower and all its evil chaos. Firewing’s muscles shivered with strength and she flew east. Towards the sea.
~
Agathe burst through the trees into the clearing where the tower lay. Her senses prickled. Something was different. The tower was there but its outline. It was ruined. Ivy ran rampant around its walls.
“Care Agathe, we need to exercise care,” Q’uaina’s concerned voice whispered from behind.
Agathe heard the words but did not heed them. Instead, she rushed forwards under the cold stars and reached the walls of the tower. Q’uaina let out a low curse and held back, alert. Somewhere above an owl’s cry tore through the night.
Q’uaina watched aghast as shadows rose out of the ground behind Agathe, flanking her in seconds. Agathe was absorbed in what lay in front of her. She came to the tower’s entrance. It should not be visible, she thought. She did not hesitate, instead ran through into the courtyard and there saw the destruction.
“Father, father, where are you?”
She went into the great hall. Smashed table, chairs. Acrid smoke hung in the air. Then up the stairs to her father’s quarters, the tingle of magic in the air. Her father’s sense lingered in this place. How much time had elapsed here while they had been away in the Shiffante realm? The ruin and growth around the tower spoke volumes.
A noise behind. Arms grabbed her roughly and foetid breath spilled onto her. Agathe struggled in the half darkness but her captors were too many and too strong. Then something was pressed to her mouth and nose, a sweet smell. Her senses dulled and she lost consciousness entering a world of darkness.
The shadowy figures bundled her limp form into a net and carried her back down the stairs and into the clearing outside the tower. There, two figures were waiting on horseback. The horses’ flanks were covered in sweat and their breath misted the cold night air.
S’Jukdara leant forwards on his mount and spoke to his vampire companion.
“At last we’re getting somewhere, I thought these rats would never show up. All that time wasted on the coast…”
LeSouris smiled. The failings of the drow nation were well known; patience was not one of their strengths.
“This one will take us to the Shard, we are close. I know it. It is out there somewhere waiting to be taken. Her father was useful but slippery; we will not let this one escape. Come let’s go.”
LeSouris took Agathe’s bound form and secured her to his mount. The two riders wheeled around and raced off into the darkness, their cloaks billowing behind them.
The shadowy forms they left behind shivered, becoming indistinct and disappeared back into the ground in front of the tower.
Q’uaina watched in horror from the cover of the forest. She was torn, her heart screamed at her to break cover and attack Agathe’s captors. Reason however, prevailed and she held back clutching her short bow. She saw the two riders take Agathe and head west. She witnessed the shadowy figures change and disappear into the earth. One of them was slower than the others and within range.
She drew her bow, steadied her breath and took aim. The arrow’s fletching brushed her cheek.
“For Agathe, you demon,” she whispered.
The arrow was true. It hit its mark squarely in the back before the shadow had a chance to dissipate. A strangled scream reached her ears, the form spasmed and fell to the ground. A grim smile crept across Q’uaina’s face. She would not venture out in the darkness but would wait until daylight before tracking the riders. She slunk back into the forest, sat beside a large oak and waited. Patience was a quality borne by her people. Her time would come.
Q’uaina looked up through the trees and saw familiar stars; the hearths of her ancestors. She searched for her parents’ fire and found it. She offered up her spirit to theirs and drew strength from them. Her resolve grew; she would find Agathe. Her eyes closed.
She awoke. A branch snapped nearby. Then a rustle. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow. Daylight filtered through the leaves. She moved silently, fluidly to a crouching position eyes glued to where the sound had come from. A flash of movement and a fox emerged form the undergrowth. It saw her and froze. Their
eyes locked. It held something in its mouth, a scrap of clothing.
The spell was broken, the fox turned and fled. Q’uaina rose and looked around. Everything was as it should be. She went over to where the fox had been; it had dropped the scrap of clothing. It was blood stained. Her mind shot back to the shadow she had loosed her arrow at during the night.
Q’uaina returned to the edge of the forest and looked out across the open ground. A solitary form lay slumped on the earth, her arrow protruding defiantly from its back.
She made a decision, drew her blade and broke cover. She walked over to the form all the while scrutinising the ground. Nothing happened. She looked down at the broken form at her feet; a corruption of man and beast. Cruel features beset its face, its body small but powerfully built. Its blood was still red she mused as she cut her arrow from its back and cleaned it on the dewy grass.
A flapping sound reached her from the forest behind. She turned and saw a flash of feathers amongst the branches. An owl stared out at her, its plumage a ghostly white. It cocked its head sideways, a comical gesture. She put the arrow in her quiver and walked towards the bird. It turned and disappeared amongst the branches.
She arrived at the spot and looked up but saw nothing.
“You have returned, Q’uaina. I have waited for you many moons. I knew this day would come.”
Q’uaina wheeled around bow drawn. The Beekeeper stood a short distance off, the tower just visible behind him through the trees. Her heart skipped a beat. Then a wave of relief swept over her.
Chapter 22
Captivity
Agathe’s body ached all over. She checked herself and found multiple bruises, some already turning purple. She winced as she shifted position on the damp floor. Her hands were bound and she lay chained to a rock wall. Water dripped around her and in the distance, she heard a waterfall.
Why had she been so foolish? She should have heeded Q’uaina’s words. She had been so eager to see her father. Still she had been alert enough to see the pre-arranged signal he had left in his room for her. Anyone else would have missed it, but she understood when she saw the red curtains that her father had gone into hiding.
She knew it was just a matter of time before he found her. No doubt, her captors were looking for the Shard. She had seen the drow and vampire up close when they had secured her in this place after the night’s journey. The drow did not worry her; it was the vampire she feared. She had heard of those that had been claimed by the vampire nation and she shuddered.
She was tired, stiff and her bones ached. Her heart reached out and tried to sense anyone, anything friendly. She wondered where Ossian was and she sent her light to his spirit wherever it was. She needed to be unbound to fly, so she would bide her time and learn as much as she could of the enemy’s plans before trying to escape.
Agathe started humming, then her mother’s words came to her lips:
“Awake little bird, awake little one,
Join the morning light and dance with joy,
For yours is the heartbeat, yours is the song
That carries our wishes and laughter to the sky
And our dear mother Erthe she knows and nurtures
All the birds, animals and the bees that bind the tapestry
Of life, of love, of hope…”
Strength and resolve grew in Agathe’s heart. She would weather this. She would survive. She lay her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and waited.
An hour later, she heard footsteps approaching. From around the corner the vampire’s caped figure appeared. His frame was slender, his hair long and tied back with fine leather thongs. His nails were manicured and skin alabaster white. It was his eyes that held her. They were blood red and regarded her with a cold detachment.
“So you are awake. I trust you have recovered after your journey?”
Agathe stared, numb. Her heart beat furiously in her chest. She felt weak.
The vampire approached her and licked his lips. It was a useful trick he had learned to use. It always made humans nervous. He allowed the slightest hint of his incisors to show.
“My name is LeSouris, I am your friend here. The other one the dark elf, wanted to torture you. I forbade it. These drow are barbaric. We on the other hand have elegance, grace,” he paused for effect.
“We are on the run, and we in turn are hunting your party. Our own people search for us for failing to destroy the Shiffante. They will kill us if they find us, the dishonour is too great. You, however can help. If we can restore the order by defeating the Shiffante, we can reclaim our honour and our freedom is assured. All we need is the Aerithryl Shard. We know one of your party holds the Shard. You made it through the undersea and emerged here. We know the sea dwellers showed you the way to the Shard. I was able to persuade them to tell us. It took some effort I must say but my methods are always condusive…” his words sounded hollow, devoid of life.
“Which brings us to you, daughter of the Beekeeper. Agathe. Yes, we know all about you and your father. His ways with Erthe lore, quaint of course. We know he will come for you; in fact, we are waiting for him, we even left some clues for him to follow us on the trail. He will not miss them. We will kill your father; slowly drain the life out of him in front of you unless you tell us where the Shard is.”
LeSouris licked his lips again, this time allowing his incisors to extend their full length. He smiled cruelly at Agathe and came forwards tracing a bony finger and nail along her leg. She reflexly withdrew, turning her head away from him.
“Have it your way Agathe, it won’t be long now anyway. Your father will be here soon. Then we can have a family reunion. I’m looking forwards to it already.”
LeSouris stood looking down at her in silence then turned and walked out of the cave back the way he had come. Agathe hoped he had not seen the tears, which had run down her face. She felt the grip of fear and her stomach retched. Nothing came, she was empty. LeSouris had won, he had drained her of hope.
~
Ossian was brought to the big tent by two guards. He entered its confines feeling alone and far away from his friends. A few oil lamps relieved the gloom. The interior looked surprisingly comfortable, at least by Clan Bear’s standards. Sleeping cots lay on a raised platform surrounded by heavy drapes. Off to his left was a sizeable table strewn with papers and maps. Another table further back held food and flagons of drink.
Ossian was in no mood for games, he was instead ready to communicate. These people were obviously not Shiffante and anyone not of them was a potential ally he reasoned. He coughed self consciously to announce his presence. A figure moved forwards from the back of the room.
“My name is Karina, Queen of Clan Horse, riders of the plains. I am widow to Verik, King of the Hirrandi. You have met my son Veran; he brought you in from the steppes. You were lost and separated from your friends. Your enemies hunt you. This is all I know about you. Sit, we need to talk, you will tell me your story, for we all have our paths and are part of a greater unfolding. Most of the time, we have a mouse’s view of the plan but every now and then it is necessary to fly like birds and look down on the bigger story from a great height.”
Karina offered Ossian a glass of warm, honey wine and she sat and waited. This time she did not look dangerous or threatening but instead looked vulnerable and alone. She carried a great weight on her shoulders and this burden was clearly weighing her down.
Ossian sipped his drink, it tasted rich and spicy. He felt the tension slip from his muscles. He relaxed and spoke. He started at the beginning leaving no detail out. It was a catharsis; his voice was strong and sure. He only paused once when he described finding his mother and father’s charred, hanging bodies. He looked at Karina the whole time holding on to her gaze. She looked the same age as his mother. Her face remained impassive. She gave no clue as to her thoughts. Her beauty carried its own pain.
His story finished and he stopped. His body slumped forwards, divested of its secrets. Karina looked
at him in silence. Outside a dog barked and children called to each other. The sounds were distant, not real. His words had woven a spell. Briefly, he and Karina were bound by the knowledge they shared. Neither of them wanted to break the silence for to do so would invite reality back into the room.
Finally Karina spoke. “I’m sorry for your pain, Ossian. You haven’t had time to grieve. You carry great sadness in your heart. I see you speak the truth. You’re welcome to stay with us if you wish. We ourselves are searching for sanctuary. Our lands have been blighted by the purple skies that bring poison rain to our fields and wells. It has been slowly following us for months. We left our home in the spring, it’s now mid summer and we need to find safety again before winter comes. The steppes are our last hope unless my scouts bring news that is more favourable from the south. There lie the Red Flags. To the east the blood wolves.
“Before things changed, our borders were respected. The occasional skirmish only, soon settled with a show of strength. But since the skies have darkened the old respect, the old order has crumbled. We are disinherited, homeless and vulnerable. We are fighting for our lives. My King, Verik would’ve taken on the Red Flags I’m sure but they reached him first with one of their assassins.
“I could take my blades to them but that is not what is best for my people. We need safety first. Fear drew the Red Flags’ strike on my King. They thought we were responsible for the poisoned rivers, for the waters run through our lands first, then to theirs and onwards to the sea. That was in the early days when the dark skies first came. They thought we wanted to drive them from their lands. Old rivalries were rekindled.
“Our scout, Styr is due back any day now with news from the south. My heart tells me that the Red Flags have problems of their own. I know infighting has decimated their people. I fear that way lies certain danger for my clan.
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