The Eye of Everfell

by Bard Constantine

  Someone was going to die.

  The knowledge was obscured as if by dirty hand, but the result was undeniable, no matter what she wished. She did not know who or how many. Ayna told her that the future was a river: ever shifting and moving, making it impossible to determine many details.

  Nyori shakily tried to dismiss the notion as she washed her face and rinsed her mouth. The water was shock-cold, but still did nothing to clear her clouded mind. She dressed quickly, pausing only to brush the stubborn tangles from her hair and pull it into a long braid before she swung her cloak around her shoulders and stepped outside.

  The chill struck her immediately, turning her breath into misty ghosts. The sky was crimson as if the sun had awakened behind the Dragonspine in a furious mood. Dew shimmered on the shifting sea of grasslands that surrounded the camp, liquid rubies that reflected the fiery sky.

  Nyori was not the only early riser. Nando and Ironhide were fully dressed and had their weapons girded. Rhanu and Meshella stood with them. They all held battered mugs, but the steaming liquid was largely neglected. They looked unusually alert, as though expecting something. Or someone.

  "Something is wrong."

  Nyori turned in surprise at the echo of her thoughts. Han sat cross-legged on a frayed mat behind her with his hands on his knees and his eyes closed. Despite the cold, he was bare-chested, his lithe muscles taut, his chest rising and falling in perfectly even breaths. When his eyes opened, they were those of an ancient sage.

  "You should travel with us, if only for the day. A storm is brewing."

  Curious, she drew nearer. Is it possible that he has any of the senses I have been trained to develop? "How do you know this?"

  His eyes closed again. "The Sovereign Ones speak of harmony. Harmony is essential. In kingdoms. In nature. In ourselves. Without it, there is only chaos. Today there is a fog, obscuring the natural. Bringing disharmony."

  When his eyes reopened, he was once again the young man she met the previous day. He stood and donned his shirt with a light laugh. "You must excuse me, Shama. Sometimes I feel things, is all. You should eat something. Come–we have hen eggs, bacon, and hot tea. Come." As he seized her by the hand, she shook her head wonderingly and allowed him to lead her.

  Soon she ate with the rest of the waking band and drank the green-tinted tea that Han had brewed. It was different from what she was used to, the flavor more potent, almost bitter. Han handled the kettle and glazed pottery with great care and prepared it with an air of ceremony

  "Tea is special in my homeland. There are some that train for years in the formalities of preparation and serving it appropriately."

  "It's good." She hesitated for a moment. "Your band came from the direction of Bruallia, didn't you?"

  Han took a sip from his bowl. "Yes. Much disharmony at that place. War is the religion of the land."

  "I don't know anything about war."

  Han smiled, but his eyes were surprisingly neutral. "War is for warriors. For a Shama, not so much. Count yourself lucky."

  She was aware of Nando listening closely, and Ironhide pretending he wasn't. She lowered her voice. "Did you happen to come across any cities or towns when you crossed the Dragonspine? Any old villages or temples?"

  Han looked at her wonderingly. "No, Shama. Why would anyone try to live in the Dragonspine? Sheepherders sometimes bring flocks to the foothills, but to live in the Dragonspine..." He looked to the horizon where the jagged mountains rutted from the ground in a sinister fashion. Han shook his head. "I am not from these lands, but I would think that no man would willingly dwell there. Those mountains are full of darkness."

  They finished their meal in silence. Afterward, the camp gathered and prepared to depart.

  "I wish you would change your mind." Rhanu's face was regretful. "Nothing lies east but war and peril. It will only get worse from here."

  "Yes, stay," Meshella said. "It would be nice to have another woman around for a change. These men need someone to look after them."

  "Her decision will not change, not even for my charms," Han said. He gave her a knowing smile. "She is determined to find what she seeks."

  "So I see." Rhanu seemed disappointed as he bowed formally. "Very well, my friends. May peace shadow your steps until we meet again."

  They went their separate ways. Nyori rode Lively while the men jogged alongside. Ironhide often looked back at the departing band with a somewhat regretful look on his face.

  "Something wrong?" Nyori asked.

  Ironhide shook his head. "Wrong? No, just strange. Did you sense it, Nando?"

  "Sense what?"

  "Their leader. Rhanu. He has the potential."

  "The foreigner?" Nando scoffed. "You must be mistaken."

  "Truly, your many years must have given you extraordinary wisdom," Ironhide said, causing Nando's face to redden. "How do you think he knew where we were when he could not see us? He caught wind of our scent. After I drew closer, I could sense it. Trust me. He can learn."

  "You mean he can become a Nahgual and change his form as you do?" she asked.

  "It is quite possible," Ironhide said. "At the very least, he can learn the basic talents. Not all have full potential. There are fewer every generation. The gift fades like autumn leaves chased by winter winds. Such is the way of things."

  "Will he find a guide?"

  Ironhide shrugged. "Who can say? We are not many and are scattered across the realm. The chances he will run into another are slim at best outside of Halladen. It is too bad we are going opposite ways."

  "You might get your chance because some of us will meet again." She was quite sure, though she could not explain how. The certainty of knowing, as Ayna explained it. One of the gifts of the Shama. Not to be doubted or questioned.

  "Will we? That is well, then." Ironhide seemed satisfied.

  Nando, of course, was not.

  "One of your prophecies?" He sneered. "Like looking for a city or village in all of this?" His gesture took in the wide plains around them. He had been listening. She had forgotten how keen their hearing was.

  "This is a fool's errand if I ever saw one, for truth. Don't give me that look, Ironhide –you know you're thinking the same thing! There's nothing east but the Dragonspine, and the Great Mistress damn us for fools should we cross that line."

  Ironhide folded his arms and sighed. "I find myself in the unlikely position of agreeing with our outspoken friend. The eastern sky was blood red when I awoke. It is an ill omen for traveling in that direction."

  Nyori looked at the older man. His voice was light, but his eyes were disturbed. Was there something he was not telling her? She thought of her intuition when she awoke. The certainty of knowing. She hesitated. Mistress Ayna had warned her to say as little as possible about the events at the Eye. But Nyori did not want her escorts to be completely blind, either.

  "We are not seeking any ordinary place. Asfrior is our destination."

  The men exchanged one of their unreadable looks. If anything, Nando appeared even more disgusted. "I should have known things could only get worse. We're wasting our time chasing a black moon. How in Divia's light are we supposed to–?"

  He continued his grumbling as Ironhide looked at Nyori consideringly.

  "If the Shama says we go to Asfrior, then that is where we will go."

  Nando stared. "You can't be serious, Ironhide. The place is just a legend. Many have looked for it, and not one has found it. Just a moment ago you said–"

  Nyori didn't give him time to finish. "I have been given my instructions. I will seek Asfrior. Should your nerve fail you, then return to Halladen." She nudged Lively forward. Ironhide fell in step beside her; any uneasiness vanished from his face. Nando stood where he was, muttering under his breath. After a few moments she heard a bestial snarl, and a gray shape startled Lively as it bolted past, half hidden in the tall grass. Nyori had never visibly seen the Nahgual change forms. They were surprisingly private about their ability.

 
Ironhide sighed. "Like a spark upon dead grass, so is the temper of a young man. I hate when he does that. Now I have to go back and pick up his things."

  They did not see Nando for much of the day, though Nyori was sure Ironhide could point him out at any time he wished. As the hours dragged, she found that she couldn't shake the feeling of menace that breathed down her neck. Ironhide was unusually silent, an indicator that he felt it too. As he jogged alongside Lively, his eyes darted from side to side. Nyori could almost see his ears prick, alert for any sound out of the ordinary. He kept an arrow nocked as well, ready to loose at a moment's notice. Nyori wanted to assure him that there was no reason to expect trouble, but she knew that would be a lie. The feeling of unseen eyes rattled her. She looked up. They had reached the foothills of the Dragonspine; its rocky peaks loomed threateningly over them.

  It lived up to its reputation. Nyori had heard the tales, and all agreed that there were no mountains more synonymous with sudden death than the Dragonspine with its treacherous paths, pitfalls, and crumbling precipices. Not to mention the tales of strange beasts and creatures rumored to lurk in its passes, all craving the flesh of men. She understood why it had served as the main impasse against the fierce Bruallians for ages, far more efficient than any border guard or wall could ever be at keeping their armies at bay.

  This is where I'm supposed to go for safety?

  "Faster." Ironhide seized Lively's bridle, bringing her to full gallop as he loped easily alongside.

  "Toward the mountains? What's the matter? Did Nando—?"

  "Faster." Ironhide's long hair flailed behind him as he matched the horse stride for stride. Nyori felt Lively's muscles churn as though the mare shared Ironhide's awareness of the unseen threat.

  "Ironhide, what is it?" The wind snatched the words away as she spoke, but he heard them anyway. "I...I'm not sure if I can find the trail. We have to slow down."

  "It's too late for that now."

  Her heart pounded wildly. "Why? Why is it too late?"

  His eyes caught hers. She could not hear his words, but she read his lips.

  "They are hunting us."

  Her first thought was of Rhanu and his band, but in her mind she knew better. When she turned, tall grass rocked back and forth for miles. There was nothing visible. And yet, she knew there was something out there. Something dreadful, inhuman. Something that wanted them dead.

  Ironhide pulled Lively to a stop and easily lifted Nyori out of the saddle, despite her protests. "What are you doing?"

  He ignored her as he removed the saddlebags. "We have to climb. The horse cannot go with us."

  "Are you jesting? I won't leave Lively alone out here! If something's hunting us, she'll be lost or killed." Nyori heard her voice rise almost hysterically, but couldn't stop.

  Ironhide placidly disregarded her. "A horse knows its way home. If she's lucky, they won't bother following her. If we're lucky, they will." He threw the saddlebags over his shoulder and handed her his bow and quiver. "You'll have to carry these for me."

  She slung the quiver over her back. It weighed more than she expected. She held the bow awkwardly. It was a hunting tool, a killing weapon. It felt crude and ugly in her hands. Sanctity of life was the first thing stressed to her since the day she took her vows as a Shama.

  "What, Ironhide? What is it that hunts us?"

  "Akhkharu."

  He slapped Lively on the rump. The mare sped off with a startled neigh. Her mane rustled as her powerful legs took her away from Nyori faster than she would have thought possible. It was like watching a dream fade. The pack mule brayed and took off behind Lively, leaving Ironhide and Nyori behind.

  She took a deep breath to control herself, holding her tears captive as they tried to escape. Ironhide gazed at her, unwanted sympathy on his face. She would not cry in front of him.

  "You're talking about a child's tale." The statement was automatic, even though she knew it for a lie. Ayna had warned her.

  "It is no tale that comes for us, Shama," Ironhide said. "We must disappear into the mountains or perish."

  "But what of Nando? Are we to leave him behind?"

  Ironhide scanned the grasses. "That is who we wait for."

  When Nyori turned, Nando was back in his human form, running across the plains as though from a raging fire. She still saw nothing behind him. Normally the fact that he was naked would have distracted her somewhat. But what she beheld on his face as he drew nearer distressed her. It was something she had never seen from him before.

  Fear.

  Though sweat dampened his dark hair and slicked his bare chest, he did not appear to be out of breath as he joined them at the base of the mountain range. He caught the clothes Ironhide tossed him and turned slightly as he quickly yanked on his breeches. "I don't know what foolishness my sister has you caught up in, but you should realize it has become much more dangerous. Someone does not want you to have success on your mission. You should never have left Halladen."

  "But no one knew," she said. "We left in secret." The words tasted false as soon as she uttered them. She remembered what Mistress Ayna had told her.

  The akhkharu have eyes everywhere. There are ears that listen from the shadows.

  "The only true secret is the one unspoken," Ironhide said, echoing her thoughts. He took the weapons from her and handed them to Nando. "We can talk that over if we live through the night. For now, we must become as phantoms in darkness." He looked to the horizon. "Our enemies approach."

  This time, against the fiery eye of the setting sun, she saw them. Silhouettes on horseback so far away to be barely visible. The fading sunlight glinted on their figures as though they were heavily armored. Catching sight of them caused her throat to tighten as though seized by a desperate hand. For even at that distance she was sure they looked at her; the menace in their intent buffeted her like the wind before a storm.

  Ironhide took her by the arm and led her into the shadows of the mountains. The ascent was not an easy one. It may have been her imagination stirred by the pursuit, but the mountains seemed to resist being climbed. She lost count of how many times she slipped. Her hands were soon raw and throbbed from scrapes, and her dress torn and dirtied from the sharp edges of the dark stone as they followed an old goat trail. One that must have killed the goats foolish enough to brave it.

  At first it seemed their flight was random, but she felt a pull at times, a beckoning finger in her mind that spoke to her as surely as a whispered voice. She let the certainty of knowing direct them. At times they hugged the stone above a sheer drop in unending blackness, other times seemingly solid rock crumpled underneath them like soft sand. Ironhide and Nando never batted an eye, never slipped, as sure on their feet as if they'd been born in those mountains. It was only she that stumbled, that slid, that needed to be hauled up like a sack of oats. A few hours of their suicidal flight exhausted her completely.

  Surprisingly it was Nando that spoke for her. "She must rest. She cannot hold out much longer."

  Ironhide never paused. "We can all rest when we're dead. We dare not stop more than a few minutes at most, and even that will cost us dearly."

  "How can they find us in here?" She panted and leaned against the rock face for support. "They are too far back to even see—"

  With a dull thud, an arrow struck the stone only inches from her face. She stared at it with paralyzed fascination as it quivered from the force.

  "There." Nando pointed. It was almost dark, but because the figures wore white, she could see them far below. It was impossible for them to have caught up so quickly. It was impossible to fire an arrow that distance. The pursuers clambered up the trail as though borne on wings, with a grace that made Ironhide and Nando look tired and clumsy by comparison.

  Terror replaced her exhaustion when Ironhide grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her forward. She ran as though her weariness was imaginary. Whining arrows chased them, clattering against the rocks when they missed. Nando snarled, hunched ove
r as though unsure of staying in his human form or changing to the wolf. His bow was in hand, but she was sure he knew he could not match the precision or strength of their pursuers.

  They reached a plateau, where jagged peaks stabbed through the low-hanging clouds around them. She frantically searched the gloom. The remains of what appeared to be an ancient temple lay several spans away, almost hidden by veins of vines and decayed leaves. The sky was dark; stars twinkled merrily as though mocking their plight.

  This cannot be Asfrior. No one has dwelt here for ages. But something tugged her in that direction. She knew that it was Asfrior, dead and deserted as it was. Her one hope turned out to be a black moon, just as Nando had said.

  They were trapped.

  "Come on!" Nando extended his hand. As she reached, his eyes widened, staring over her shoulder. She turned just in time to see Ironhide fall heavily to the ground with two arrows lodged in his back.

  "Ironhide!"

  He groaned as she helped him to his feet. They took refuge behind a boulder as Nando knelt and smoothly fired arrows back at their white-clad assailants.

  "Their armor is too strong. You're wasting your arrows." Even speaking seemed to require great effort from Ironhide. His eyelids were half-closed, his breath exhaled in shallow gasps.

  Nando loosed another arrow. "Will you get him out of here? Even now he can't help lecturing. Go–I will hold them as long as I can, and maybe draw them away."

  "Nando, I–"

  His amber eyes were troubled. "It seems your task is graver than I believed, and I'm sorry for that." Nando looked at Ironhide, who wheezed painfully, his eyes barely open as though it took his entire strength to keep breathing. "He will not last long. The arrows are surely poisoned. It is on you, now. You must be the strong one." He drew his short sword and dagger.

  "I should have protected you better." Regret tattooed his face. "Go, now. I will do what I can."

  "Nando..."

  "Go!" He sprang forward, blades flashing as if wielded by a sorcerer's hands. The whine of arrows filled the air again; she heard them deflected by his blades. "Go!" he shouted again, his voice exultant, the sound of the warrior embracing death.