Wanderer's Song (Song of Prophecy Series Book 1)

by P. E. Padilla

  Yet, she had learned something in her encounter. It almost seemed as if he was hesitant to use his magic. Utilizing it to coat his weapons was the least effective way he could bring it to bear. Why did he not just strike her from afar, as Maenat did when they fought? It was strange, and confusing. She did not like things she could not understand.

  “The one who engaged me was powerful,” Maenat said. She hadn’t realized he stood next to her. His normal place in a battle was far away from his foe so he could cast magic out of range of their weapons. Like a coward.

  “Was he?” She was in no mood to have a conversation.

  “Yes. I struck at the Gneisprumay with powerful spells. That other one was able to largely block my magic. His was infused with something that I have not encountered before.”

  “It is life,” she said. “This world is full of it, and so is some of their magic.”

  “Yes,” he said, looking over the cliff into the liquid.

  She scanned the current below as well. They had no such things in her world, these moving torrents of liquid or the large bodies of it she had seen in her travels here. When they had first encountered one of them, a few of her troops attempted to go across. It swept them away. She did not know what happened to them, but it was obvious that they could not navigate the liquid as the denizens of this world could. Should they try? Did the liquid include a component of this life? Would submersion destroy them or only weaken them without eliminating their essence? It was too much of a risk to find out.

  “Can these ones survive plunging into that?” Maenat pointed downward.

  “I do not know. It seems to be moving that way, so we must follow it and see if we can locate them again. I only saw the One as he entered it, and then as he disappeared as it turned the bend.”

  “We will have them next time, Koixus,” Maenat said, almost as if he was consoling her. “We will hunt them down and attack them where there will be no escape.”

  “Yes,” she said. “We will.” As they went back to their respective forces, she wondered if it would be that easy. She had no doubt that they could find their enemy, but there was power there in the One, power even he did not realize. She prayed to S’ru, her dark god, that he didn’t discover what he was capable of, or next time she would not escape with only one stinging cut.

  44

  The black water closed around Aeden’s body as he plunged into the river. The coldness ripped the breath from his lungs as he sank deeper into the water. His descent slowed and he started kicking to the surface, pulling up with his arms. While he did so, the current tore at him, moving him rapidly downstream, threatening to turn him end over end.

  Aeden was a good swimmer. He had been forced to swim in the highland lakes as part of his training. It developed muscles that were not easily developed in other ways, his trainers told him, and he believed it. In any case, he was confident he could swim strongly enough to make it to the shore. If he wasn’t thrown into a rock by the current and crushed.

  His head broke the surface and he looked around. There was no one else in sight. Did the others make it safely from the water? Did Urun jump when he did? He hoped so. He liked the eccentric priest, had grown to regard him as family. And wasn’t that what their group was now, a family? Funny how he never thought of such things when he was in the highlands.

  The clan was family.

  The clan was all.

  He had found, though, that family could mean many things. The Gypta had taught him that. He was glad they had.

  First order of business was to survive the river. The other things could wait. As if in answer to his thought, the current spun him, drew him under, and threw him against something hard bobbing in the water next to him. A large tree branch.

  He grabbed at the branch, but it was ripped from his grip as he spun again. He gulped water as he tried to take a breath and started coughing. Clawing his way to the surface to take a full breath—and coughing half of it out—he tried to fix his eyes on the shore. The river was at least thirty feet wide, the current swift. On the side of the river closest to him, there were some boulders and a sheer cliff, no shore to speak of. Getting to the side there would do him no good.

  The other side was more promising. Though the water had cut a cliff into the surrounding soil, there appeared to be locations where he could climb out. If he could get to them. He lost his view as he bobbed under the water again.

  Fighting to stay afloat was already exhausting him. He could only faintly feel the wounds he had gotten in his battle. That was one advantage to the cold water that had numbed him. But the chill seeped into his core. If he didn’t get out of the river soon, he would freeze to death and slip beneath the surface, unconscious. And that would be all there was to his life.

  Not now. Not yet. Aeden kicked toward the other side of the river. He did not like that it was the same side from which he jumped. The land had dropped away and come closer to the level of the water while the opposite side had risen up to sheer, impassable cliffs. That meant that once he left the water and found his companions—and he would find them!—they would still have a river crossing to deal with.

  The current took him around a bend, jostling him and spinning him again. He went under and fought to come up, able to break the surface long enough to catch one small breath before being dragged under again. The battle only lasted a moment, but it was a long moment.

  As the river straightened out, the turbulence lessened and Aeden took the opportunity to kick with all his might, pulling himself with his arms, aiming for a narrow beach downstream. His motions pulled at his wounds, and the pain shocked him. It felt like when he stretched, the wound opened up and the water forced its way under his skin, flapping it up and threatening to tear it from his body. He tried to grit his teeth while still taking in the necessary air, but he only succeeded in hissing through his partly opened mouth.

  The combination of the cold water and the lack of breath caused little flashes of light to hover around in his vision. It scared him to think that he might actually pass out. If he did so, he would die. He had no doubt about that. Stopping his thrashing long enough to stretch his neck out and gulp in as full a breath as he could, he resumed his battle with the current, that lifesaving beach the only thing in his world.

  And then he watched as his target passed by. Rather, as he rocketed past it, just so much debris in the current. There were still a dozen feet of river to cross before he made it to the side. Such a short distance but so very far away. He cursed, but only in his mind. He couldn’t spare the breath to do so out loud.

  The dizziness seemed to be overwhelming him. His thoughts were slow, and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything. He rushed by a large rock, scraping it and narrowly missing a dangerous collision with it. Aeden shook his head to try to clear the fog and cast his eyes downstream once more. His path was dotted with rocks poking up through the surface of the water up ahead, but there was another strip of shore that he could use to climb out of the river. If he could get to it. The rocks concerned him. How many more lurked below the surface?

  Aeden redoubled his efforts, kicking with the last of his strength, paddling with arms made of wood, but not nearly as buoyant. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and the world seemed to narrow into a tunnel, blackness filling the edges. He locked his eyes on the beach, putting his entire body into making it there, ignoring the rocks that could crush his body if he struck one at the speed he was moving.

  Almost. He was almost there.

  For every foot he went toward the safety of the shore, the river dragged him five feet downstream. But he kept trying. Pulling. Kicking.

  Aeden’s hand struck something painfully as he plunged it into the water for another pull. He cried out but quickly plunged the other hand into the water for another stroke. It also scraped against rock. He grabbed at one, and it turned over in his hand and started rolling, but he had already reached out with the other hand.

  His torso slowed as he grasped at h
andholds. His legs moved with the current, pulling him parallel with the shore, feet pointing downstream. He had made it, but he still had to get out of the water before it snatched him back into the deeper part of the river. As he kicked, his knee struck a rock and pain shot up his leg. He ignored it, too close to completion and too exhausted by his ordeal to react.

  The Croagh was finally able to crawl from the water, hands and knees scraping the loose stones edging the river. He dragged himself up onto the gravel of the beach until he was completely out of the current, and then he collapsed. He would rest for a moment. Just a moment. His eyes fluttered and finally closed as the sound of the rushing water lulled him to sleep.

  Aeden’s eyes snapped open. Where was he? What happened? Something had roused him from his slumber. A sharp pain like someone touching a red hot piece of metal to his back made him gasp. The warm day had thawed him enough that the numbing effect of the cold water had worn off.

  How long had he been asleep? He checked the sun’s position in the sky. It was getting near the horizon on the other side of the river. The west side. It was late afternoon. Where were his friends?

  He looked around, but didn’t see anyone else. His small beach was only twenty feet long and less than half that wide. There was a cut in the land above it as if the river had receded recently, but it was passable. The other side of the water faced a dirt cliff twenty feet high. Even if he was on that side, he doubted he could get up from the river bed there. He’d just have to search for his friends on this side of the river. Hopefully they weren’t split up, some on one side and some on the other.

  Aeden groaned as he stumbled to his feet. Putting both hands over his shoulders, he was glad to find his swords still in their scabbards. At least he would have his weapons. His belt pouch was still there, as was his pack. All in all, things could be worse.

  Getting up the bank to the scattered, messy trees and shrubs was more difficult than it should have been, mostly because of the wound to Aeden’s leg. With every step, it pulsed with white-hot pain and threatened to collapse on him completely. As he thawed out more, he felt the wound on his back and the gash on his side oozing blood. He hoped he found the others before he lost too much and passed out.

  He tried to stay as close to the river as possible, but at times underbrush forced him so far from the bank that he couldn’t even see the water, though he could still hear it. He was grateful at least that the canyon the river had cut was flat on the side he was traversing. He didn’t think he had the energy to climb up and down the other side’s steep hills.

  Movement from the brush between him and the river made Aeden’s head snap toward the sound. He had his swords out in an instant, hoping he had the strength to defend himself.

  “Aeden?”

  It was Raki’s voice. Aeden slumped, dropping his sword points to the ground and leaning on them for support. He sighed.

  “Here,” he said.

  Raki came through the foliage, a tired smile on his face.

  “I thought I saw your red hair. It stands out in this.” The boy gestured to the green and brown around him.

  “Are the others with you?” Aeden asked.

  “No. I came ashore just over there.” He pointed upstream to an area that Aeden wasn’t able to reach in his travels. “I saw Fahtin and then Urun go by, but I couldn’t reach them. I don’t know if they saw me. They were fighting just to stay above water.”

  “You didn’t see Tere?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well,” Aeden said, “we’ll just have to find them. Are you hurt?”

  “No. I—” Raki’s eyes widened and Aeden spun, bringing his swords up to face the danger behind him.

  There was nothing there.

  Raki came up to him. “Oh, Aeden,” the boy said, his eyes growing sad, “you’re all cut up.”

  Aeden looked to where Raki’s eyes pointed. Blood trickled down his leg, the gash in his pants and in his flesh showing red against his bright blue britches. Blood likewise flowed from his side. He didn’t want to think of what his back looked like.

  “A few minor cuts. I’ll live. I think.”

  “Here, let me bind them up at least. If you keep bleeding like that, you’ll lose too much blood.”

  Aeden sat tiredly on a log while Raki dug through his pack. He handed his red-haired friend an apple and a piece of soggy dried meat. “Sorry that it’s wet, but you need to eat something.” Aeden took what was offered and ate mechanically.

  Raki warned him of the sting and then started sewing his gashes with the needle and thread he had pulled from his pack. Aeden was still light-headed, and though the stitching was painful, he mostly ignored it, thinking only of finding the others.

  “There,” Raki said. “All done. It should keep you from dying until we can find Urun to heal you.”

  “Thank you,” Aeden said. “Hopefully Urun and the others made it out of the water safely.”

  “They did. I know they did. We just have to find them.”

  They started off again, going about it the same way Aeden had when he was alone. Hours passed as they picked their way through the trees and bushes. They found Tere Chizzit first, none the worse for wear but complaining about how he had lost half the arrows in his quiver. He had kept his pack, which had some spare arrows, but the blind tracker grumbled about how long it had taken to make the shafts.

  Urun and Fahtin were together, the Gypta girl landing upstream of the priest and finding him as she traveled down. They were waiting for Aeden and the others as they made their way down the river bank nearing dusk.

  “Thank Codaghan we all made it, and on the same side of the river,” Aeden said. The others agreed, though tiredly.

  They set up camp right where they found the last two party members, too tired to go on another step. Urun healed Aeden’s wounds, the stitches falling away as the skin healed and forced them out. The priest himself had taken no wounds. In fact, no one had been harmed other than breathing mouthfuls of water and getting bruised and scraped from their river journey. While they prepared the fire, Aeden and Urun told the others what had happened on the cliff.

  “That was much too close,” Aeden finally said as they sat around a fire, eating. They had gone so far down river that they figured that the animaru couldn’t possibly reach them or see the glow of the fire.

  “It was,” Tere Chizzit said. “I’d not like to repeat that. We were very lucky that we weren’t more seriously injured or killed.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aeden,” Fahtin said. “If I hadn’t frozen up like that, you could have jumped before having to fight all those creatures.”

  Aeden looked at his bedraggled friend. Tears began to pool in her eyes from her guilt, but she was still so beautiful. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. “None of that, Fahtin. It’s not an easy thing to jump from a height like that into an unknown river. You did fine. Someone had to stay to make sure everyone else was able to jump without worrying about some creature biting you as you did it. It was a logical choice. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  Fahtin sniffled, but she smiled. “Okay. But I won’t hesitate next time. I promise.”

  Aeden kissed her forehead and released her. “If I have anything to say about it, there will be no next time. I don’t fancy battling water like that again. Leave that for hardier—and braver—folk than me.”

  He turned to Urun. “I thank you, Urun, for staying with me. Your magic made the difference. If you had not done whatever it was you did to block that monster’s magic, I would not have made it. Your actions saved my life.”

  Urun waved the comment away, though his blush ruined the effect. “Oh, it was nothing. As you said, we were the logical choices. We two are the only ones who can harm these beasts permanently. It was my pleasure to help you.” The priest’s face went pensive.

  “What is it?” Aeden asked.

  “Oh, I was just thinking about those two animaru. That hairy one and the hairless, light-colored one
you fought. Have you run into them before?”

  “No. In fact, we’ve not seen anything like what they could do. Most of the creatures use claws and teeth. They are not very sophisticated and don’t seem to think strategically. The one I fought did.”

  “I wonder if they are the leaders or if they are just two of many like that,” Urun said. “The magic of the hairy one was nearly a match of my own. I could have defeated him, I think, if thousands of other creatures had not been swarming over us, but it concerns me. We may be outclassed.”

  “Aye. Those were my thoughts exactly,” Aeden said. “We need to get to the Academy and learn what we need to do. I’d not like another conflict like that. We may not survive it.”

  45

  “You will do as I say,” the human said to Khrazhti.

  She had not had close interactions with any of the creatures of this world called humans. Except this one. Were they all so arrogant? Did none of them realize that she could snuff out their lives with barely a thought, calling up her death magic and destroying them and those brittle shells they moved around in?

  When S’ru had sent her to this place, to this light-riddled world, his commands had been simple. “Go and prepare the way for my coming. Work with the human who is opening the portal for your troops, and do what he says.”

  She hadn’t thought much about it then—who thought of other things when in the presence of S’ru himself—but it chafed now. Her god had commanded her to obey this weak, pathetic thing in front of her, and she would do it. But he would not act as if he was better than her.