Corrille, heated with fury, stood where Avruellen had left her. How dare that woman turn things around to make it look like she was at fault? Unappreciative? Avruellen had exacted her price many times over. Corrille had been treated with distrust since the moment she officially joined their party. Avruellen had used the girls as nothing more than slave labour, setting up camp, collecting firewood and water, not to mention the days of hardship sleeping in the wilderness. Avruellen had a way of making her feel so small. How dare she speak to her that way!
As insulted as Corrille was, she knew to lose her temper again would be playing into the old woman’s hands. She was not prepared to repeat that mistake so decided to walk off the anger. Not wanting to get lost, she stayed within the tree-line, but paralleled the road. After walking briskly a while, the fire in her abated and so did her pace. She found a comfortable place to sit at the base of a large tree, whose leaves were sprouting anew after winter’s nakedness. Her thoughts turned to her friend and the many fun times they had shared. Comforting thoughts caressed her tired, emotionally drained mind. Slowly she drifted into a dreamless slumber.
Avruellen had called Corrille to dinner several times. At first the lack of response was annoying. After a while it was worrying. Avruellen sent Flux to find her. The fox’s sensitive sense of smell would make his task easy. Flux followed his nose along the path she had taken. After a while he found where she had fallen asleep. Flux sent to Avruellen. I found where she went. Unfortunately she’s not here anymore.
What do you mean? If she’s not there then you have to keep following her trail.
That could be difficult. Her scent stops here. It appears as if she’s vanished into thin air.
Boh! That’s impossible. Wait there. I’m coming.
Just follow a parallel line to the road.
Avruellen reached Flux in fifteen minutes. She searched for any clues around the base of the trunk until she had to acknowledge that Flux was right. Flux waited patiently for her to complete the search he had already done. Avruellen was a perfectionist and found it hard to leave well enough alone once she had accepted a task.
The realmist craned her neck and looked to the higher foliage. It was impossible to see anything in the darkness between the leaves. Avruellen approached the tree and placed both palms on the rough trunk. She was going to use energy from the tree itself. The power required for what she wanted to do was only a trickle, not enough to give them up to the enemy by having to go to the Second Realm. She filled her arms and mind with the tree’s effervescence. Look skywards Flux. The realmist craned her neck to stare high above them. She removed her hands from the trunk, turned her lined palms upward, and released the harvested energy. The light illuminated everything amongst the canopy. Avruellen was careful not to broadcast too much light, lest it travel beyond the trees and attract unwanted attention.
The pair gazed around. When it was clear Corrille was not there, Avruellen placed her palms back on the trunk and returned the unused particles of power. Drawing energy from living things would not harm them, unless you took too much and left them nothing with which to sustain themselves. In this case, Avruellen had only used enough power to slow the tree’s growth for a couple of days.
Avruellen thought about scrying for Corrille’s symbol, but remembered she had not thought to find out what it was. The only way to find out someone’s symbol was to be shown a mind image or to touch the person and follow the near invisible aura that joined the symbol to the body via the second realm. She could have kicked herself.
What to do now Flux?
Blessing in disguise? The fox cocked his head.
Maybe. If she’d run off by herself that would be one thing. However, it appears as if she’s had assistance.
“Whoever helped her is beyond my sense of smell. Flux’s calm demeanor irritated Avruellen.
Does nothing ever worry you? Obviously whoever helped her is plotting against us and is more of a danger than that girl could ever be.
Not necessarily.
Avruellen blew out an exasperated breath at Flux’s unfounded optimism, although, as much as this latest event was an unexpected and suspicious incident, there were some positives to come out of it. With Corrille gone their lives on the road would be easier. Not only could Avruellen be her realmist self, the problem of what to do with the girl when they reached Carpus was solved.
They returned to the campsite where two bedrolls were laid out near the fire. “Hmm, I hope whoever took her has somewhere for her to sleep.” Avruellen smiled at the thought of Corrille trying to sleep on bare, hard ground whilst shivering all the while. Flux sensed her mood and shook his pointy face.
Avruellen continued, “I know I shouldn’t be amused by another’s suffering, but…” The fox gave her a disapproving look, the end of his bushy tail twitching.
Avruellen ate half the dinner she had prepared whilst Flux dined on a large, warm rabbit. Avruellen would eat the rest of her vegetarian stew for breakfast in the morning. With Corrille gone, the provisions would last twice as long, even three times without Bronwyn. The realmist blew air out of her mouth in a fierce sigh. She scried for her niece, whose course appeared to be continuing toward Vellonia. The sight of her descendant’s life force was comforting. At least she would be safe for a while within the walls of Vellonia.
Avruellen spoke out loud. “I wonder what Drakon wants with our Bronny. The dragons are opportunistic creatures and I’ve only ever known them to help when they’re going to benefit as well. If anything happens to Bronwyn, god or no god, he’ll regret it.” Avruellen’s eyes narrowed to slits, the orange glow from the fire lending her a fierceness Flux rarely saw.
Don’t worry until something happens. We have enough to deal with as it is. The fox was a practical and self-assured creature. There was usually no doubt in Flux’s mind that whatever it was they needed to do to get through would be done.
“You are right, my wise creatura. What would I ever do without you?” Flux padded to her and was subsequently enveloped in a robust hug.
Avruellen changed for bed; she detested wearing dirty, horse-fragrant clothes when she slept. “Tonight we’ll both get some rest.” Avruellen walked a small way from their campsite and set wards. If anything breached them, physically or otherwise, they would know. For the first time, almost since they set out, they could sleep without keeping watch.
Even though the mystery of Corrille’s disappearance was worrying, Avruellen fell asleep easily. As she had come to realise over many decades, problems would still be there, no worse, no better, in the morning. No amount of worrying would help them disappear. This problem would resolve itself eventually, probably at the most inopportune time, however there was nothing to be done about that.
As she slept she dreamt. She was watching a beautiful young woman with tendrils of soft, dark hair trailing across her lightly tanned face as she slept. She was wrapped in a familiar bedroll. The fire was low, its dim light fluttering softly as it strained to reach Bronwyn. The large black cat sat at her feet, surveying the surroundings. Avruellen smiled in joy. Her niece was safe. The big cat looked in the direction from which the realmist observed. “Drakon has sent you this dream. He wishes you to see that Bronwyn is safe. He is not a God without empathy. He would never ask a price you were not capable of paying.” The cat looked back to the darkness surrounding the camp, a dismissal of the watcher.
When Avruellen woke, the dream lingered like sweet perfume. She rose with a smile on her face. Flux was not there. He had most likely gone to catch breakfast. Avruellen poured water from her flask into the kettle to make tea, washing her face with the remainder. She made a note to fill up all the flasks at the first stream they came across. By the time she had dressed and packed up her bed, the kettle had boiled. Flux returned whilst she was enjoying her tea.
How did you sleep?
“Very well, thank you. Almighty Drakon sent me a dream.” She found it hard to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Dragons, and obviously
dragon gods, had the talent of sending dreams. They could also force nightmares on a sleeper; however, whatever they sent was reality, somewhere. Knowing they could only send truth, a version of it anyway, Avruellen was satisfied that what she had seen was real.
What was the dream about?
“Bronny.” Avruellen smiled as she described what she had seen. Flux grinned his foxy smile at the news, sharp teeth ever so slightly exposed.
It seems Drakon has a conscience after all. Avruellen nodded at Flux’s observation.
Avruellen hummed a tune as she finished tidying their temporary lodgings. They started the day by having one last look around where Corrille had vanished. Nothing had changed since the previous night; they were unable to find any clue as to where she had gone, how, or with whom. Flux didn’t like riddles. Being a fox, and therefore supposedly cunning, he felt that no one should be able to do anything that puzzled him. Flux turned the problem over and over in his mind while they continued on to Carpus. As they grew closer to their destination the solution remained frustratingly in the distance.
They moved south from Wyrden across into Brenland. Fine days where the sun radiated welcome heat were interspersed with cloudy days that dampened Avruellen’s clothes and burdened Flux’s fur with an unpleasant odour. With the coast, and Carpus, only three days away, they noted a change in the land. Thick forests were thinning out to large tracts of cleared farmland. This part of Brenland was relatively flat, the occasional low hill adding variety to an otherwise uniform countryside. Flux had taken to pondering Corrille’s disappearance for only two hours a day.
By the time they were a day’s ride from the ocean, the wind had risen to an uncomfortable, gusty cold. Avruellen sensed a storm building far out to sea. She had spent a small period of her two hundred and four years in a seaside town on the eastern coast of Veresia. She had been quite young then, about one hundred and ten. Her incarnation was as Anna, a forty-year old spinster. After five years in the town, and numerous marriage proposals, she decided to move on. It wasn’t that she had anything against men, it was just that she didn’t have the will to get close to and watch another partner die. So far she had outlived two husbands and one “special” friend.
The other problem she had encountered was that she was so much older than everyone—she felt like a cradle-snatcher, even toward seventy year olds. Her appearance would have, even now, attracted men a quarter of her age. The fact that a realmist’s physical appearance didn’t alter significantly over time didn’t help Avruellen when she thought of how old she really was, and how quickly she grew bored with people who, in comparison to her, had such little experience in life.
Flux and Avruellen were relieved when they sighted the dark, blue-grey bay and ocean in the distance. They would reach Carpus just before nightfall, and for the first time in a while Avruellen would sleep in a comfortable bed. Even more exciting was the hot bath she would enjoy. Flux trotted off in the opposite direction as they neared the large town. Over the years, they had found that a fox was not appreciated in any built-up area. No one believed Avruellen when she explained he was tame.
A low wall surrounded the coastal town. A cluster of houses crouched near the top of a gentle slope, which gradually fell toward the bay. At the bottom of the hill sat warehouses and two large wharves— their thick timber legs standing steadfastly out into the bay. Carpus Bay was a small inlet, just big enough for two or three large ships at a time. Two narrow cliffs enclosed it on either side. The cliffs rose steep and pointed, so much so that it was almost impossible to walk along the ridges. They ascended above the highest point of the town—an unusual formation caused by an ancient volcanic eruption. The cliffs protected the deep waters from the most ferocious storms; only southerly winds and waves funneled into the bay.
Avruellen halted her horse inside the low wall, which was little more than a boundary marking—too low to offer any protection from enemies. She gazed out to sea, and in the fading light white foam could be seen capping the distant waves. The howling wind tore at her hair and blew dirt in her eyes. A direct southerly blew the moderate swell into the bay. One large and one small ship were anchored a short distance from the wharves. If they had tied up to the dock, the waves would have smashed them to pieces before the cargo was unloaded. It looked as if Avruellen would have to wait for calmer seas before she undertook the journey to Dead Man’s Isle.
She sent to Flux. Seas are too rough. I’ll wait a couple of days and see if the wind abates. In the meantime I’m going to find the most luxurious inn I can.
But our task is urgent.
I know, but no sailor would voluntarily set out in this weather, especially if the storm is building.
I’ll check back with you tomorrow.
OK Flux. Goodnight.
Goodnight Av.
Avruellen found the best of the four inns the town had to offer; an imposing three-level stone building with a meticulously trimmed, silver-leafed hedge that hugged the front verandah, protecting it from strong sea breezes. A robust, bright pink flowering plant hung in numerous pots from the verandah ceiling. She wasn’t too surprised to find such a well looked after establishment because, although the town was small, many merchants came here to check on, or collect, their imported goods—and they were finicky about their accommodation.
After a hot dinner of roast vegetables and bread with butter, she bathed in a luxuriously deep tub, fragrant petals bobbing on the surface of the steaming water. Avruellen always carried sweet-smelling bath additives—just in case an opportunity, such as this, presented itself. She soaked until the water became too cold to be comfortable, her skin soft and prune-like.
The relaxing evening was just what Avruellen needed. As usual she checked that the sheets were clean before she slid into them because some people had a different idea of what that was than she did. Tonight the bed was acceptable and very comfortable. She snuggled down until the covers settled softly under her nose.
So many sad and stressful things that had happened lately. Behind closed eyes she conjured up the image of Bronwyn sleeping peacefully, surprisingly protected by the large beast that had taken her. Avruellen held onto that happy thought as she drifted to sleep between crisp sheets.
She dreamed again. In this dream, which felt so real, her perspective was from the corner of the living area of a weathered cottage. She had no idea where the cottage was, although she could hear a fierce wind screaming outside. As her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight she smelled smoke from a newly extinguished fire. For a brief moment she was comforted by its similarity to the life she had recently left.
Abruptly, through the smoke, came the sweet and metallic odour of fresh blood. How was it she could smell in a dream? Avruellen quickly understood this was not a normal dream; it was a nightmare, and it was real, somewhere.
An overturned chair lay next to a smashed dining table. A half-eaten dinner sprawled over the floor lay mashed amongst sharp pieces of broken porcelain. Amidst the ruins, in the heart of a once-welcoming home, lay the unfortunate occupant. Avruellen’s dream eyes widened. A young woman, aged thirty or so, was lodged between the broken table and what could only be described as an horrific monstrosity. Her head leaned back, once-beautiful green eyes gaping at nothing. Death had not come quickly. They say the face acquires a peaceful look in death; Avruellen assumed whoever started that rumor had never seen anyone die this way.
She wanted to look away, to flee back to her body, to wake up, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hideous sight. A small, unblemished child’s hand gripped the dead woman’s pale shoulder. There shouldn’t have been long, sharp talons protruding from the once innocent fingers, the spikes sunk deep into cooling flesh. The boy’s arms looked thicker than they should have been whilst his torso retained its prepubescent skinniness, ribs and spine protruding through unusually translucent, pallid, green skin. Avruellen shook her head at the short, scaly tail that protruded a few inches from the base of the naked boy’s spine.
>
The realmist gagged when she heard the slurping and crunching of human meat. The boy’s face was buried in the still-warm belly, teeth exhuming entrails as he ate his way through to the spine. The victim’s blood spattered the boy’s skin, which had developed into an unnatural, slimy membrane, allowing blue veins to show through. Layers of old, brown and new, red blood crusted the boy’s formerly-pale hair. Realisation of what this boy was becoming hit Avruellen as surely as if she had been run through with a jagged blade.
Irving’s head rose from its abhorrent meal, vertebra clicking one by one with the movement. Avruellen shuddered. As Irving’s green, malignant eyes met Avruellen’s, she knew with an absolutely terrified certainty that she was the only person alive today who had ever seen a Gormon. It took all her effort, but she fled the horror, to return to her now-sweaty body, tangled in sheets that had lost their crispness.
Avruellen sat up, breathing heavily. She wiped her nose with the back of a shaking hand, but the sickly smell of death lingered as if to remind her of the reality they all must face. She desperately wanted another bath. Her breathing was too fast and shallow. Feeling light headed, she forced herself to take deep breaths. Flux? Flux, are you there?
Yes. You’re interrupting my dinner. They breed rabbits fat around here.
Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) Page 21
