Michael's Flight: A Librarian of Nimium Book (Murudian Cycle 1)

by Lynn Egan

  Almost.

  He ate steadily while Qimal toyed with her mug and chattered gossip and endearments. Gradually through her prattle and her body language he determined that it was likely at least one of his assassins was in the room and that she was working an alibi for him into the conversation. According to her he had been in her bed, and active, since the previous afternoon. He wasn’t facing the room and couldn’t see what was going on behind him, which he found disconcerting, but when one of her compliments was about how blue his eyes were, he figured out why she had faced him that way.

  If someone were hunting Michael of Ishald, they would be looking for a young man with golden eyes. According to Qimal’s statement the night before, there was no other being in the world with that feature.

  Despite his anxiety he ate until he was full and a little more than full. He had decided that he was going to take every opportunity for food possible while he was here, since so often he seemed pulled away from meals lately. He leaned away from the table, trying to seem relaxed, and sipped the ba’bakh. That wasn’t its true name, he remembered, but it had become the common term for the rich, bitter brew. It meant ‘good blood’ or ‘joy blood’ or something of that nature in the N’mari tongue. It was such an interesting language that many words had been borrowed from it and were used by other races. Rochati numbering was even used by merchants everywhere, though the Aeld had resisted a tens-based system.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a scuffle breaking out in the room behind them.

  “It’s him, grab him!”

  Shocked and frightened, Michael was going to turn around but Qimal gripped his hand, spilling his drink all over the table. “You must turn around, to look surprised, or they will wonder. But do NOT look at their faces or the glamour will fade!” Her foreign hiss was over in a moment, and he turned to look at the scene, trying to aim his eyes only at the combatant’s chests. His peripheral vision could fill in the rest. What he saw astonished him.

  A slender, pale young man with messy black hair and yellow eyes, dressed in faded black and white struggled with two assailants as a third held open the door of the establishment. Michael caught the glimmer of a ring on the man’s finger as he swung a punch at one of the others, and it looked like the Ishald signet.

  Some of the other patrons looked confused, others disgusted. There was mumbling and grumbling but no one helped or hindered either side of the struggle. Finally, the combatants made their way out into the street and the sounds gradually faded away. Qimal had to pull Michael back down into his seat.

  “What was that!?” he squeaked out at her. She answered almost too low for him to hear.

  “I will explain soon. Come!” She pulled his hand to her breast across the table and gave a startled giggle, “Oh! It is too soon from eating! Come, I will rub your back, my love!” She led him upstairs, indicating the he should still not look around the room.

  Once they were in the safety of her chamber, he turned disbelieving eyes on the feline woman who waved him to a seat on the bed while she took a chair nearby. “What did I just almost see?”

  She crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment. “You saw a spell that took months to prepare, which has been waiting for you. Had you stayed in the Red Mane the day you came to the Island, we would have used it then and gotten you to the ship we have available. Now there is the matter of your companion which is less easy. We were prepared to take you, but not another. It can be arranged but it takes time we may not have.”

  “Who is we?” Michael was grateful but frustrated at the lack of information he was getting. Some people wanted to capture or kill him, others wanted to save him, and he didn’t know who or why in either case.

  She waved away his question. “That is less important. This island is involved in larger things, and no one sees the whole yet. Not even She Who Sees All,” here Qimal made the gesture which was considered holy to those who followed the Goddess’ teachings, much like the opening of a book to the sky.

  “I feel like I don’t even see part of it yet!” Michael grumbled, and she smiled kindly.

  “It is a puzzle, that is certain. You are but a piece. But you are a piece around which others come together and are seen more clearly.”

  “So, were those real people I saw down there, struggling?”

  “Eli’ba, it is so. A spell such as that must have a solid base. The men who took you away,” her eyes sparkled mischievously at that, “will find you too slippery for them, and you will escape back to the Ishald manor house. It will be enough time to get you,” here one of her slender, furred fingers poked him in the chest, “into a ship for the mainland.”

  “What of the man they’ve taken? Won’t they try to kill him? What about my companion?”

  “Ah! So he worries for others. It is well, you have heart. Mouse is canny, and has many unusual skills. He knows his work and enjoys being chased. They are well away and we may go search. Come, can you be a raven for me? It will be easier.” She stood and held out her arm expectantly; he blushed at her and scratched the back of his neck. She tilted her head at him curiously. “Is it that you are not able to change? How were you a raven last night? It is not a usual form.”

  “I, ah, don’t like anyone watching…” he trailed off, embarrassed and remembering that she had seen him change the night before when he was too tired to care. In his entire life only two people had known about his raven form, and in these few days that number had doubled. It made him uneasy.

  She blinked and turned around to face the door. A few moments later, he spoke again, this time with a clever raven’s beak and tongue. “I’m ready,” He leapt to her arm, finding that she had a stout leather gauntlet on. He didn’t have strong gripping talons the way a raptor did, but his claws were still long and sharp.

  She nodded in a businesslike way. “Do not look at anyone or they will notice your eyes. For now, there is a masking on them but it will not survive a direct gaze.”

  Michael nodded and chose to close his eyes and fluff himself up as if half-asleep. He felt the swaying as she moved, and heard the environment around them changing from the room into the passage, conversations louder as they approached the main room, and softer as they turned in a direction he had not been before, down another hall and out into an alleyway.

  The smell here told him that it was often used for kitchen and human refuse. He was reminded of the large breakfast he’d consumed and how it weighed on him, and he shifted uncomfortably. He felt Qimal stretch her arm out as the unfortunate result added to the alley’s piquant atmosphere. Being a bird had digestive disadvantages.

  He felt fresher air and heard more people as they came out onto a street, and turned down another alley. This happened a few more times before he could tell by the sounds and a feeling of space that they had come to the forest. He opened his eyes.

  They were indeed underneath the trees and before them stretched what seemed like unending woods. The occasional dilapidated rock wall, he knew, crisscrossed farm boundaries long forgotten.

  He needed to find a stone-colored cat in the forest as quickly as possible, and he had no idea where to start, or even if she was still alive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After conferring briefly, Michael and Qimal split up, with her padding generally eastward while he flew in wide circles, looking for clues. The morning was brisk, with a wind off the sea, and the air was clear. Flying on such a day would have been a joy, were he not desperately searching for a missing princess.

  He winged back across Qimal’s path frequently so they did not lose each other. In this way, they covered quite a lot of ground in not very much time. The forest looked peaceful to Michael, and by late morning he thought he spied the tree hole he’d hidden in the night before. He flapped over and landed on the branch to inspect it.

  As he approached, a loud chittering cry came out of the hollow. He jumped back as an angry squirrel warned him away from her new home. He backwinged hurriedly off the limb and made
a spiraling way downwards to the bottom of the tree.

  There were definite signs of a scuffle here, and a gash in the tree where a sword must have cut. He hopped back and forth on the leaf litter, but couldn’t make much of the marks there. He flew back to find Qimal.

  When she arrived, she paused several yards back from the scene, tilting her head and shifting her body to get minutely different views of the scattered duff, seeing a fuller picture of what had happened the night before.

  “There was activity here, yes. A couple of people and an animal, see the scratches on this rock here?” She pointed and he peered, seeing thin white marks on the stone she had indicated. She walked towards the bole of the tree he had sheltered in and turned around, facing the rock. Then she walked in a straight line from the tree, past the rock, all the while looking at the ground intently. After a few moments, she shook her head.

  “Your friend must hunt, and know how to track and how not to be tracked, for after this pile here,” she pointed at a few big stones left by some long-ago farmer, “There is no sign. There are claw marks from a climb to the top, and then nothing.” She looked at him critically, “Your friend cannot also fly, can she?”

  He shook his head at her. “It’s unlikely. You know as well as I do that no Aeld can shift into any winged creature.”

  Qimal narrowed her eyes at his raven form and said nothing, only went back to searching the rocks. There was a space underneath two of them, but it wasn’t large enough to hide anything substantial. She peered intently at every side of the mound, but again came up empty. Michael decided to circle through the trees as best he could while she continued to look for hints as to the mysterious disappearance of the woman who’d rescued him.

  ~

  It was not long afterwards that, swinging a bit farther south than he thought necessary, he felt what he could only think of as a poke from the back of his mind. Curious, he circled around until it happened again.

  :?:

  He almost didn’t dare to hope, but flew in another loop. At the furthest southern extent of that round, he felt it again.

  :?!:

  He didn’t understand any words, but there was a definite feeling of familiarity about it. He tried to pinpoint where it was coming from, and in flying farther south, it came to him more strongly. There still weren’t exact words to it, just a feeling of hopeful desperation in a ‘voice’ that suddenly seemed to be very dear to him.

  Circling until he was nearly dizzy from crisscrossing his own path, he finally found a center point for the feeling and dropped down among the foliage. Running east-west was an old stone wall, falling over in places and full of crevices. He hopped along it, trying to figure out where to look, when a low moaning yowl from under the stone he landed on startled him into flight. He glided down to a safe distance from the entrance of a niche which had been made by two large flat stones fallen against each other. It wasn’t big enough for a full-grown person, but definitely for a child or…

  “Rrrrrrrrrroooooooooowwwwwwwwwww!” It was a sound of warning, of defense, and of pain.

  “Murud?” He knew his voice was different in raven form, because it’s hard to mimic oneself, but he hoped she’d know him. Sometimes being in a form for too long could play strange tricks on the mind, and make one believe the current form was the true one. People had lost themselves that way before.

  “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…” The sound wasn’t as hostile now, and he hopped closer. He peered into the darkness.

  Two patches of shinier darkness looked back out at him, and sharp white teeth bared themselves in a half-hiss. Michael dared one more hop, and a gray paw darted towards him, though considerably slower than he thought should be normal. It missed him by inches and he stayed still.

  “Marinarae l’Aestir a’Murud, you know me.” He knew she understood him at some level, and followed the words with a vivid image of her name in his head. He projected the image of his own face as it had appeared in the pool to him… was it only yesterday? He imagined himself as clearly as he could, and became surprised when the image seemed to change inside his head. His almost beaky nose became less pronounced, his hair less messy and smoother. His lips seemed to soften and his eyes became less tired, more brilliantly gold. By the time he realized that the image he had made of himself had become a lovely stranger, there was a voice coming through that disturbed it, as a pebble disturbs a calm pool.

  :Pa… hai… rren… Golden Eye …Raven Golden Eye…:

  Hope leapt in his heart as he realized she was remembering herself. “Yes! Keep going!”

  A shifting in the gloom beneath the stones indicated she was moving, and the two shining orbs he’d glimpsed before came far enough into view for him to focus on them.

  Gold eyes and black met and for some reason Michael thought the forest went silent for a moment. Then images flooded him.

  A mess of gray and black resolves into the figures of two men gathering around a pale tree trunk, speaking in low tones. My ears catch snatches of a hissing language I do not understand, and one pulls a wicked arrow from his quiver as the other starts to strap climbing claws onto his hands. My raven is in the tree, I cannot let them take him! Fly! I will distract them! I yell and leap and miss, and leap again. The sword misses me barely, I crouch but they see me in the darkness. The chatter in my mind is farther way now, fading, he is safe and flying. I will run. Run! I will lose them on these rocks, leap! Pain! Pain! I run! I must run! My raven is safe!

  Michael shook his head and broke the spell, hopping back. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but when he looked back at the cat beneath the fallen wall, there was some spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  :Michael.:

  “Yes!” He bounced up and down, full of a strange joy. What was this? He shouldn’t be this happy to find someone he’d only known for a couple of days.

  :I am hurt. Did you find aid?:

  Here he stopped his leaping and peered into the darkness. He couldn’t tell how she was hurt, but thought it couldn’t be serious if she had gotten this far.

  “I did, can you stay here while I get it?”

  :I will stay.:

  He leapt immediately into the air, with the loudest caw he could muster, and tried to make straight for where he thought Qimal should be.

  ~

  She had met him part way, recognizing his faint calls and running swiftly toward the sound. He circled her once, crying, “Found!” before returning in the direction he had come. She was light on her feet, though she could not run as fast as he could fly, and he forced himself to be slow enough for her to follow him. When they came to the rock wall, he landed above Murud’s hiding place and hopped madly on top of it, too full of excitement to stop. Qimal trotted up, panting hard from the long run.

  “We are nearly to the coast! How did she end up here?”

  Michael bobbed his head in the bird equivalent of a shrug and hopped down to the entrance. He approached it.

  “Murud! I brought help. Come on out!” He backed away as two gray paws began to pull themselves out of the opening. As her cat head came out, he heard Qimal hiss quietly in N’mari behind him.

  “Only zhahkwiss have such eyes!” Michael did not recognize the word she had used, but her tone was one of fear and disbelief. He thought perhaps it was a term for one of the many types of spirits the Rochat believed in. He leapt to the princess’ defense.

  “Her eyes are just black as a person, and they’re cat eyes now but the same color. You’ll see when she changes…” Here he trailed off as the rest of Murud’s cat body came into view.

  She would not be able to change with an arrow clear through her body from hip to shoulder.

  ~

  After some initial distrustful hissing on the part of both females, Murud allowed Qimal to examine her wound more closely. The fletching protruded from above her right hip, and the head seemed to come out of her neck.

  “How she came this far so wounded is beyond my knowledge, and her wou
nd is beyond my skill,” said the Aeldwidd. “We must bring her back to the Mane as she is and find an animal healer. We need to wrap her as best we can with something to keep her still.”

  “There are blankets back with our packs, but I don’t know how far that is,” Michael said uncertainly. He knew that the packs were further away than the city, but there were not only things in them which were useful right now, but others that he couldn’t bear to part with. Getting them later would mean another trip, and he didn’t know when - or if - that would be possible. Qimal looked thoughtful.

  “It is best if we are less back and forth here, it will bring attention if we travel again. I will stay with her and you fly to the packs, take what you can, and come back. It may be full dark by then but that is good as well.”

  Michael turned to Murud, “You’ll be all right with Qimal.”

  :She cannot hear me as you do.: This surprised Michael, since he thought most Aeld-blood could speak mind to mind with each other.

  :She is closed to me. I am thirsty.: The princess moved her tongue dryly in her mouth and Qimal produced a water pouch and offered it to her.

  Michael tilted his head, “I think she will understand you anyway.” The Aeldwidd looked strangely at him, not sure which of them he was talking to, since he had not told her that Murud could speak in his mind. He didn’t feel the need to elaborate, and flew off as the princess consented to lap water from the other woman’s hand.

  ~

  It was late afternoon when Michael found the packs. They were under the bushes where he’d expected them, but were rather better hidden than he remembered. He flew around them a couple of times, inspecting the area in case of another ambush. It appeared to be clear, and he dropped to the forest floor and changed into himself.

  It was a wonderful and scary feeling to be rummaging through these things with his own hands. He felt like he’d been a raven too much lately, but at the same time he felt exposed appearing as a man in the forest. A bird blended in much better in such a place. He wondered where Mouse was, and his would-be assassins. He worried they were close, then argued with himself that if they were headed for Ishald, they were north of him. It still was unnerving being alone in the forest knowing he was being hunted and that some force on the Island was affecting him and other people strangely.