Ominous

by Linn Tesli

  The remaining gryphons scattered. Some continued to attack the Silverlings, taking down or injuring some of them, but those who stayed eventually fell to their deaths.

  The gryphons fled from their home, bounding away from the cliff, as yet more Silverlings arrived on the plateau. Glancing back, Everine met the eyes of the largest Silverling for a split second before Ondox flew into a thick cloud and hid them from sight. The wind rushed through her hair as they left Gryphon Peak behind.

  As they flew, Everine made a feeble attempt at binding Birken’s wound with fabric she had torn off of her mangled skirt. She did not dare pull the arrow out so she wrapped the fabric around the shaft as tight as she could. She frowned. He would need to be properly attended to soon. She feared he might lose too much blood.

  “I am sorry about your friends, Ondox,” Everine said while she worked.

  The muscles in Ondox’s body tightened. He replied with an edge of pride in his deep voice,” They died honorably. All that live will eventually return to nature’s bosom. It is as it was intended.”

  Time dragged on, broken only by Ayva’s soft gurgling. Ondox’s wings fell and lifted at the edges of Everine’s vision, his feathers rustling lightly in the wind. Everine ran her fingers through the gryphon’s soft fur, which grew long enough to envelop her hands entirely.

  “Exactly how old are you, Ondox?” she asked.

  “By your timescale? I’d say about one thousand, two hundred, and fourteen years young—give or take a decade.” He chuckled.

  Everine searched for graying feathers or other signs of aging but found none. Ondox stretched his wings before he lifted them. He bent them in large bridges, then beat them downwards, carrying them through a cloud.

  Everine shivered and her throat choked up. She exhaled and tiny particles of frozen crystals formed in the thin air. “Ondox, we can not breath up here,” she croaked. Before she knew it, they had swooped beneath the layers of white sheets once more. Everine gulped down the fresh air and steadied herself with slow breaths.

  She preoccupied herself by telling Ondox of their journey from Lycobris. The gryphon asked a lot of questions, but Everine did not mind his questioning. It kept her from focusing on other pressing matters.

  The gryphon was particularly keen to know more about Ayva. Everine was cautious about what she told him, but the gryphon had promised not to tell anyone about her child. He had sworn on his beak and feathers to keep her secret, and Everine found that she trusted him.

  She would have enjoyed the flight much more had it not been for her growing concern that Birken was slipping away. Every so often she nudged him and dribbled what water she had left in her waterskin into his mouth. As time went on, however, it proved increasingly difficult to get his attention. The thought of Birken not surviving terrified her more than she could have imagined.

  “We really ought to land soon,” she fretted.

  The gryphon pondered this, but eventually he said, “It would be better if we went straight to Bermunnos, but I do know of a place where we might get some help—if the woman who lives there so chooses.”

  “Then that is where we go.” Everine did not hesitate.

  “Before you decide, you need to know you should not ask anything of her. No favors. She is a magical being, but her gifts, as with all magic, are never without consequence.” His tone was grave.

  “I promise to remember that, but my mind is unchanged.”

  “As you wish.” Ondox banked left. He lost height to follow the peaks of the thousands of ginkgos and maples that created the vivid yellow and red colors of the Catyan Forest, northwest of Gryphon Peak.

  Everine wrinkled her nose. The pungent smell of ash with a sweet hint of fruitiness was overpowering. The outskirts of the forest, which led onto the plains of Caradrea, looked singed. The earth was blackened, covered in fallen burnt branches. “What happened here?” Everine asked.

  “Wildfire.” Ondox dipped his head. “The forest used to cover much more of the ground that has now become a part of the plains.”

  Natural disasters had been striking all over Aradria, and seemed only to have increased under the two centuries long rule of the Heartless King. Seeing the results was far different from hearing about them, however. Everine was sad to finally comprehend the extent of the destructive forces of nature.

  Everine yawned and left the wrath of nature to be pondered another day. Instead, she ensured she had tied them all properly to the gryphon’s back.

  She sang Ayva one of Serena’s lullabies, then closed her own eyes and slept. As she drifted off, she heard a woman’s voice at the back of her mind.

  “Welcome, Everine Vargens of Beregend. I much long to look upon the child you carry with you. Your courage may change the fate of the world—and yet, it may not. We shall see. I’ve put the kettle on and prepared a bed for your wounded companion. See you in a wing’s flutter.”

  6

  The Healer

  - Everine -

  A throbbing sensation ran through Everine’s body, waking her as Ondox planted his feet firmly on the ground.

  “We have arrived,” Ondox said.

  Everine slowly opened her eyes. The dimming light of the evening sun had almost disappeared behind the treetops. She shook her head, attempting to catch her bearings. It had been a long flight. Her body ached, and her stomach growled.

  Everine caressed Ayva’s cheek and searched for Birken’s pulse. She exhaled with relief. His pulse was faint, only a dull pounding beneath her fingers, but still it beat on. She untied them from Ondox with stiff fingers and slid awkwardly off his back.

  An eerie voice startled her as the echoes from a dream sounded in her ears. “You need a hand with the heavy one?”

  “Do I look like an Earthling to you?” Everine rolled her eyes, flexing her sore arms. Then she held her palms up. She had not intended to be rude. “Apologies—it was a long journey.”

  An old woman pushed passed her, latched onto Birken’s forearms, and pulled him from the gryphon with surprising strength. Birken landed with a thump on his back.

  “Hey,” Everine exclaimed. “Be careful.”

  The woman ignored her. She continued to drag Birken along by his arms as if he was a freshly caught bear. Everine considered trying to help, but the woman was already several strides ahead of her, and Everine barely managed to wobble forward on stiff legs with Ayva clutched in her arms.

  The old woman headed for a large ginkgo with extremely dense foliage. Everine blinked in surprise. Embedded into the trunk were an arched wooden door and a triangular window.

  Everine followed the woman silently towards the trunk. Of all the things she had seen since leaving Beregend, this was likely the least surprising. She paused only to turn and nod her thanks to Ondox, who was resting under a maple, preening his feathers.

  The smell of herbs and incense tickled Everine’s nose as she stepped into the trunk, and a crackling fire inside a stone hearth offered a welcoming heat. A funnel-shaped clay chimney was suspended above the hearth. It ran upwards to be embraced by the woody roof. The circular room housed a bed, a rocking chair, a tiny stove, and a wooden table with four mismatched chairs. Glass jars and wooden boxes in a variety of sizes stood atop a row of wooden shelves carved into the trunk of the tree.

  Everine recognized a few of the herbs she could see housed in the jars, but they also held birds’ feet, an odd collection of wings, and a number of items she could not identify. Nothing much hung from the walls apart from a few kitchen implements and a marvelous painting of the shimmering white castle of Êvina. She rubbed her eyes at the sight of her homeland.

  Tearing her gaze away from the painting, Everine saw that the woman had deposited Birken onto the bed. The beat of her heart stilled, and, for a second, numbness spread through her. His sandy skin had adapted a dull shade and there was hardly any color in his face. The idea of Birken not pulling through was worse than anything they had experienced together thus far. It would break her apart if
she gave it too much thought.

  Birken’s feet were propped up on a bench at the foot of the bed. The woman sat cross-legged, already busy cleaning his wound. Everine could not help but be impressed that she had been able to drag Birken all the way onto a bed.

  Whatever else she was, she was not human.

  “I can do that,” Everine said, forcing her eyes to stay open and ignoring the prickling sensation on her skin.

  The woman angled her head, looking Everine up and down. “You’re dead on your feet, Miss Vargens. I’ll handle it.”

  Everine swayed. The old woman was right, of course.

  The woman’s lips formed a thin line on her face. “He would have lost his leg for sure if you had been much slower. I think he might keep it now.” She slid a wrinkled finger over Birken’s leg, leaving a thin, pink line in the pit of blood covering his calf. “If he lives till the morning, that is. He has got a nasty fever. An infection, perhaps.”

  Everine made a silent plea for his recovery, but a stinging sensation pained her breasts, interrupting her thoughts. It was feeding time. At least there was something she could do. She sat in the rocking chair by the small hearth, nestling Ayva in her arms. Her child was a blessing in times like these.

  While Ayva drank, Everine studied the woman. Her silver hair was spiked and frizzy, and her body was short but slender. Lines of growing wrinkles on her dark skin framed her crimson eyes. Everine did not find her plain-looking at all.

  “Seeing as you already know my name, I would like to know yours,” Everine said.

  The woman barely twitched her lips, her smile was so brief. “Is that a question? You should be more specific with your wording.” She tutted annoyingly, as though Everine was a child who had done something naughty. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

  “If you feel it is of importance, I am Gaija. I am a healer, of sorts.” She pulled one hand through her frizzy hair, leaving it even more of a mess. “That information was free of charge, by the way.” Gaija pulled at the corner of her mouth to imitate a smile.

  “And a mind reader?” Everine let the words slip out.

  The healer removed a rag she had placed on Birken’s forehead. She dipped it in a bucket of water, wrung it out, and placed it back on his face. Then she returned to her seat at the end of the bed.

  “No, I do not read minds. That is a power mainly bestowed upon those with the gift of sorcery. I do, however, receive visions.”

  “That does not explain how you came to be in my head,” Everine insisted.

  “I was dream-walking. It requires some preparation, but I am quite skilled at it. Besides, I have long known you were to come here—one way or another. Now, I have done what I can for him.” She inclined her head at Birken. “The rags must be changed every so often throughout the night. The rest is up to him.”

  Everine sighed. “Thank you.”

  Gaija crossed the floor to hunch down in front of Everine. “May I meet her now? Oh, I so want to meet her.” The healer rocked on her heels. If Gaija had possessed a tail, Everine was certain it would be wagging uncontrollably.

  The healer reached out her hands as Everine handed her Ayva.

  “Oh, my,” Gaija gasped. “What a treasure. She is our salvation, you know. Or maybe you don’t? She is, above all, our only hope.”

  Everine gaped. Salvation? Hope? She did not have a clue as to what Gaija was referring to.

  The healer lifted Ayva higher in the air, never taking her eyes off her. “Oh, I am so thrilled you decided not to kill her.”

  Everine fidgeted with her sleeves at the reminder, averting her face. Heat burned her cheeks. Sucking air into her lungs, she exhaled and whispered, “I am so sorry, Ayva.”

  Gaija waved a hand at Everine. “Not to worry. We have all wanted to kill someone at least once in our lives. Some of us have even acted on the instinct. It can be profoundly satisfying, though I am glad you were brave enough to hand this one your heart instead.”

  Aurora’s dying face flashed into Everine’s mind, and she relived the last moments she had seen her sister.

  The healer guffawed as Ayva’s irises showed visions from the healer’s own past. “Such a treat you are,” she murmured.

  Ayva beamed, and Gaija returned her joy with twinkling eyes.

  “I will follow you to the ends of the world if you so wish. This I vow to you, little queen.”

  Everine froze. “Queen? Why call her that?”

  The healer did not even blink. “Because it is what she was born to become.”

  “Please stop speaking in riddles!”

  Gaija cautiously returned Ayva to Everine’s embrace. “No need. Your heart already knows the truth.” She went to fetch Everine a buckskin and placed it on her lap. She then proceeded to change the rag on Birken’s forehead. “That rocker is quite comfortable for sleep. I would give it a try if I were you. I’ve got a basket for the little one if you’d like, but it looks as though she’s just as happy sleeping in your arms.”

  So used to keeping Ayva close by then, Everine much preferred her where she was. She declined the basket but happily accepted the buckskin. As her eyelids dropped, Everine caught a glimpse of Gaija sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, her hands resting on her knees, palms up. Her eerie voice filled the room with a long-forgotten song.

  Sereana’s velvet vocal chords echoed deep within Everine’s mind as she remembered how the Siren would frequently recount the tales of old in song. Everine missed her friend’s soothing voice. She much preferred it to the healer’s. Gaija’s voice was tuneful, but it was husky and contained an edge of foreboding.

  Gaija’s tune followed Everine into her dreams. It was a song so old that Everine did not recognize the language in which it was sung. The songs of old from Caradrea clearly differed from those of Ûnda, Sereana’s homeland. Within the dream, Everine found herself dancing barefoot in the center of a grove. All the people she had loved and lost surrounded her. She spun around until she was so dizzy she fell to the ground.

  With her back against the grass, Everine watched as the cloudless azure sky slowly darkened with black smoke. She sat to find the ground around her covered in crimson; everyone she knew had been slain and lay on the ground around her. Life had been torn from everyone except Ayva, who now appeared as a grown woman. Her eyes blazed with fire as she attacked Everine with a sawn-off unicorn’s horn in her raised arm. Everine screamed so loud her throat burned.

  She woke to find rays of sunshine flowing in through the triangular window above Birken’s bed and Gaija, bending over her, holding out a cup of tea.

  “To ease the nerves.” She leaned in and studied Everine’s face before apparently deciding she was fine.

  “Hey, Ev, would you mind toning down the damsel in distress business? You know, the screaming and all that? I was halfway out of this bed before I realized there was no danger.” Birken propped himself up on his elbows. “And then I remembered I was no use to anyone anyway.”

  His voice was a blanket of warmth. Everine stood, nearly knocking the tea out of Gaija’s hands in her haste and embraced him heartily. Collecting herself, she sat by his side on the bed.

  “Good to see you awake—and alive.” Everine smiled.

  “Yes, well…yes, that is good.” Birken grinned back at her.

  Ayva stirred in Everine’s arms, attempting to reach for Birken. Everine laid her down on the Earthling’s chest, and he raised one hand to pat her on the head.

  “Hey there, precious. I had a dream about you.” He gently tickled her neck. “I might tell you sometime. Your mother was in it too.”

  Ayva giggled, then turned her face toward his chest, her mouth searching for something she definitely would not find there. Picking her up, Everine returned to the rocker.

  While Ayva fed, Gaija kept busy by the fire, stirring some sort of concoction in a big, black cauldron.

  “How long before he is healed?” Everine asked.

  “I’d say it’ll be a good long while bef
ore his wound is fully healed. Perhaps it never will be. The arrow seems to have caused damage to the nerves.” She fed another log into the flames.

  That was a dreadful thought.

  Everine could not imagine Birken suffering this injury for the rest of his life. “Alright, then how long before he can travel?”

  “A while.” Gaija turned her back and kept stirring, adding pinches from a number of jars into the blend. “It would be much quicker with magic, you know.” Gaija dipped her hand into a glass jar, retrieving something that looked like it might have been a pixie once.

  She held it in front of her. Tiny ochre wings flapped in the steam that poured over the edges of the cauldron. “Would you allow me to perform a trick or two to help the process along?”

  It was tempting, and Everine much preferred not to stay in Catyan Forest any longer than was necessary. She wanted so badly to accept, but Ondox’s warning whispered through her mind. Magic is never without consequence. She shook her head at the offer.

  Gaija placed the pixie back in the jar. “Pity,” she muttered, pursing her lips.

  It took longer for Birken to recover than Everine would have liked. It was a very gradual process. Ondox stayed the whole while. Whenever Everine and Ayva came out to visit him, the impressive gryphon was obsessed with looking into the baby’s eyes, even as he spoke with Everine. For her part, Everine enjoyed their long conversations.

  Although thankful for her help, something about Gaija put Everine on edge. She did not appreciate the healer’s cryptic speech and the frequent intrusions into her dreams.

  As soon as Gaija said that Birken had recovered enough for them to depart, Everine wanted to leave. It was so late in the day, however, that Ondox asked that they rest through the night before their departure. Everine conceded, though it agitated her more than she let on.

  In need of privacy, she left Ayva with Birken and wandered by herself among the nearby trees. It was the first time she had been completely alone since Ayva had been born.