The Rabbit And The Raven

by Melissa Eskue Ousley

  Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain pulse through the hand that had been branded and raised his head from the pool, startled to find a small reptile staring up at him. The creature was long, almost eel-like, with a ribbon-like tail and a rounded snout. Just behind its eyes was some kind of lacy frilled growth, not quite horns, but gills perhaps. It had small, stubby appendages. The creature’s scales were a muddy red, almost black, and a lighter scarlet line ran along its sides. The tapered tail bloomed into a flat paddle, edged in black and white stripes. The thing hissed at him, revealing rows of teeth curved like cutlasses toward the back of its throat. The courtesan pulled his hand back—he could see a half circle of red dots next to the gold tattoo. The thing had bitten him.

  “He changed his mind?” David asked in disbelief after the Southern Oracle left their tree house, having formally shared the news with the others. Cael, Jon and Marisol had joined the oracle to tour more of the village, leaving David and Abby alone.

  “Yep. He sure did.” Abby was beaming from her victory.

  “I love you, woman. I really do. I don’t know how you did it, but you are amazing.”

  “I am amazing,” she agreed, grinning. “But it’s a long story. I’ll have to fill you in later. For now, he’s hosting one last feast before we leave tomorrow.”

  “Great! Wow, I just can’t believe it. I’m thrilled.” David scooped her up in his arms and spun her around. The tree house swayed precariously.

  “Whoa there,” she laughed. “Dial down the enthusiasm. You’re going to kill us.”

  With the news of the Southern Oracle’s decision to join the alliance, the frosty tension that had so quickly developed between him and David melted. The feast ended with the promise of friendship and future visits.

  After the feast, Abby shared her experiences at the Blood Altar with David and the others. She wanted them to understand the oracle’s reasons for becoming an ally, and why he had said no initially. It was David who understood something no one else recognized, not even Abby.

  “You pushed him,” he said. “Remember what Eulalia said about you being an empath and being able to project emotions?”

  Abby remembered. “You’re right. I didn’t even know I was doing it, but it’s true. There was such a strong emotional echo in that place—it was overwhelming. But what surprised me is that it wasn’t the fear that stuck with me, it was anger at the injustice of what happened to those people.”

  David nodded. “Righteous anger.”

  “Exactly,” Abby agreed. “It was almost like I was standing outside of myself, watching as I focused that anger into a fine point, and then beamed it at him, burning it into him until his resolve evaporated. It was powerful.”

  “Sounds like somebody’s got their own laser powers,” David smiled.

  “Guess so. Better not tick me off, Fly Boy,” she said, punching his arm playfully. “I’ll mess you up.”

  David raised his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare. So how about using that mind trick on Tierney? Think it could work?”

  “Worth a try,” Abby said. If the Southern Oracle was strong enough to once again stand against Tierney, maybe she was too.

  With replenished supplies, they headed into the depths of the forest, accompanied by the oracle and his entourage. The horrors that had haunted them on the journey to the village seemed to have vanished, and with extra guards for the night watch, the group was able to travel more quickly than before.

  Soon, Abby found herself saying a heartfelt goodbye to the Southern Oracle, as he left them safely at the Emerald Guardian. Though she had not known him long, she would miss him. She respected his courage.

  The sun was setting once again, and the forest was getting dark. With the rainforest at their backs, everyone seemed to be in a lighter mood, as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. The familiar sounds of their own forest were comforting, and the sight of their horses, grazing as contentedly as when they had left them, made everyone ache for home.

  Still, when Cael suggested they postpone the long ride to the castle until morning, no one objected. The fortunate turn of events with the Southern Oracle had buoyed their spirits, and for the moment, almost erased the sense of urgency driving their mission.

  Exhausted, Abby had no trouble getting to sleep. Wrapped in David’s arms, she felt warm and safe.

  Spending time in the rainforest had been draining; even without the sleep-deprived nights, there had been a depressive shadow hanging over her, something intermeshed with the canopy itself. The heaviness of it made Abby feel as if her body were made of lead—even with the good news of having the Southern Oracle as an ally, there were times when it took all she had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. It was similar to her experience fighting fear in the passage at the Blood Altar. She knew the others could feel it too, but not as keenly as she did. She wasn’t sure if that was because she was an empath, or because of her experiences at the Blood Altar. Either way, she felt cursed.

  The courtesan stumbled down a dune and across the flat, dusty bottom of a lake that had been dry for centuries. Ahead were more dunes. They looked blurry, but the courtesan was unsure if this was because of the heat in the air, or if something was wrong with his vision. He was starting to suspect the latter. He looked back at the path he had taken, following his sandy footprints to the crest of the dune. Perhaps he was seeing things, because he seemed to have company.

  The eel-lizard thing that had bitten him was stalking him now, hanging back several paces, just far enough away to stay out of reach. The courtesan stared down at the semicircle of angry, red dots on his hand. Next to them, the branded golden nautilus shell still lay flat on the top of his hand, but the skin around the tattoo was swollen. His hand was ballooning into something unrecognizable, a fleshy lump with pudgy sausage fingers. His throat felt swollen as well, and the dry splinters of thirst had returned. Each swallow was raw, agonizing. Attached to his belt was his cask, still nearly full. In the grip of his fever, he had found it too heavy to lift, and then, as his temperature rose, he had forgotten about it entirely.

  The ground below the courtesan rolled like the deck of a ship, and through a dizzying haze of confusion, he wondered if the ground was actually moving or if the desert heat was slowly frying his brain. Or perhaps it was the eel-thing’s venom crawling through his veins, killing him as slowly as he stumbled through this never-ending land of sand and more sand. There were many things he was unsure of, but of one thing he was certain: whatever was following him was growing.

  It seemed to Abby like she had just closed her eyes when she opened them again. She looked toward the fire—nothing seemed amiss. Jon was on watch, his back to her. She was still lying in David’s arms, and he was sleeping peacefully. Untangling herself from his embrace, she sat up.

  She felt a presence—someone was watching her. She turned her head in the direction of the rainforest. There, crouching on top of the Emerald Guardian, was Tierney.

  “Hello, Rabbit,” he smiled.

  She placed her hand protectively on David’s back, pulling him closer to her.

  “Shhhh,” Tierney whispered from his perch. “Don’t wake him up.”

  She glanced at Jon, wondering if she should warn him. She thought better of it. If she sounded the alarm, Tierney would either attack or disappear. Better to have this little chat, if that was what he wanted. She had a few things of her own to say.

  Tierney noted her dilemma with amusement, one eyebrow raised, a sly smile on his lips. “Don’t bother warning your friend. He can’t see me anyway.”

  “I’m dreaming,” Abby realized.

  “Bingo.” Tierney winked and cocked his finger like a gun, firing it at her. Bang.

  The gesture would have seemed strange coming from anyone else in Cai Terenmare, but Abby remembered the dream she’d had seeing him through Lucia’s eyes. He had been at ease in her old world, fitting in perfectly. She thought about what Fergal had said about blending in, and how easily Ti
erney transitioned between the formal speech of this realm and the casual cadence of her own. This guy had been around.

  “I figured out why you call me Rabbit,” she told him.

  Tierney’s sly smile widened. “Did you now? And how do you like it?”

  “It’s taking some getting used to,” she admitted.

  He chuckled. “Ah. I see. It wasn’t everything you’d hoped for.”

  “On the contrary,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “it was more than I’d hoped for, since I never expected to have that ability in the first place.”

  Tierney shrugged. “Still—you’d prefer something a bit more menacing, a little bigger, perhaps. Something like me. Don’t deny it—I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Every creature serves a purpose, no matter its size,” she insisted, repeating what the Southern Oracle had told her.

  He feigned sympathy, clucking his tongue. “Oh, Abby, love. That’s just something people say to be polite. Trust me—being a predator is so much better than being prey.”

  Abby scowled, irritated by his patronizing tone. “Yeah, well, some people would accuse you of overcompensating.”

  Tierney laughed, rocking back on his heels on top of the stump. Abby hoped he would lose his balance and fall off, but no such luck. He had the reflexes and agility of his feline alter ego. “Touché, my darling girl, touché. I understand you met the Southern Oracle. How is my dear brother?”

  Abby gave Tierney the most cheerful smile she could muster under the circumstances. “Fantastic,” she said brightly. “We’ve become the best of friends.”

  His arrogant smile turned frigid. “How very nice for you.”

  Abby’s smile widened. She was pleased with herself for managing to irritate Tierney for once. “Yes, it is very nice. And I finally had the chance to see you for what you are.”

  Tierney leapt down from his perch, his eyes narrowed. “Is that right? Well then, I’m on pins and needles. Pray tell, dearest—what did you see?”

  Abby felt fear rise in her throat, but forced it down, determined to end things with Tierney one way or another. She stood up and stepped over David’s sleeping body, blocking Tierney from getting too close to him. She stared into Tierney’s eyes, her feet planted, her fists clenched. “I saw the Blood Altar, and I know what you did. You said you preyed on us to save us from ourselves. But that’s not true.” Abby felt her anger glowing like an ember. She rolled it around in her mind, trying to focus it.

  Tierney eyed Abby’s defensive stance and stepped closer to her, tracing her cheek with his finger.

  Abby felt her heart beat faster, but she willed herself not to react to his touch.

  Tierney stared into her eyes, studying her face.

  She saw his eyes move to take in her lips and felt his finger brush her bottom lip tenderly, as though he were remembering kissing her in the rainforest dream. When he looked into her eyes again, his were blazing with intensity.

  “Isn’t it true?” he asked. “I told you I was a predator. You know I must feed to survive. You can’t really be surprised by that, can you?”

  She glared at him. “That wasn’t survival. That was a bloodbath.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose I was a bit greedy back then. Lesson learned. People do change, you know, and so I have.”

  Abby frowned. “Really? And how is that, exactly?”

  He chuckled and kissed her cheek before she could protest. “You’ll find out soon enough, love. See you soon.” With that he disappeared.

  Abby sat up with a start. David was sound asleep next to her. She looked at the Emerald Guardian. No Tierney. But there was something else. Just behind the stump was a stone door set in a frame that looked as though it had been chiseled from some ancient tomb and placed to stand alone in the middle of the forest. The door was propped open. Through the doorway, she wasn’t seeing the dark forest, as she would have expected. There was daylight there. And sand. Lots of sand.

  She stood up and walked over to the door. She didn’t dare walk though—this might be one of Tierney’s tricks, and who knew where she might end up? Instead she cautiously peered through the doorway. In the distance she could see a city with a high stone wall. The city seemed to rise in tiers, and at the very top was a tall, stone palace. There was something else as well. The smell of the sea.

  She studied the door. It was void of decoration except for one image—a man with the head of a bird. She reached out to touch it and woke up.

  “A dream within a dream,” she whispered to herself.

  From her spot next to Jon, Marisol was staring at the cooling embers of the campfire, eating breakfast. In between bites of flatbread, she caught him staring at her. It made her feel warm inside.

  They’d grown closer during the trip. It seemed as if there was something he wanted to say, but then he looked away, turning his gaze to the fire. There were things she wanted to say to him too, but if he felt the way she hoped he did, she wanted him to say it first. Maybe he would, once they finally had time alone.

  She turned her attention to the discussion between Abby, David, and Cael, chewing slowly while listening to Abby recount the details of her latest dream. Part of the dream sounded very familiar.

  “Tierney was being mysterious, as usual,” Abby said, scrunching her nose in annoyance, “but I really think there’s something to the dream about the door.”

  “As do I,” Cael replied. “The city you described sounds like the city of the Eastern Oracle. You must have been viewing it from somewhere to the west, in the Barren.”

  “You said there was a bird man on the door. Can you draw him?” David asked. He pulled a quill, ink, and some parchment from his pack.

  “Sure.” She quickly sketched the image. The bird’s head had a long, thin, curved beak.

  “Looks like some kind of Egyptian god,” Jon noted, peering over Abby’s shoulder as she added some final details. “Isn’t Horus the one with the bird head?”

  “Yes, but Horus had the head of a falcon,” Marisol said. She pointed to the bird man’s beak. “That’s an ibis. That’s Thoth. He was the god of wisdom. He was associated with magic, writing, science, and the judgment of the dead.”

  “I didn’t know you were into Egyptian mythology,” Jon said, turning to Marisol.

  “It’s something my dad is into,” Marisol explained. “But I know that door. There was a recent discovery—a new tomb was uncovered, and the archeologists are hoping it will shed light on the lost scrolls of Thoth. There’s a creation myth involving him, where he wrote down all the knowledge of the universe. Supposedly the scrolls contain the secret to making gold and other magical spells, so the legend was big with alchemists in the Middle Ages.”

  “Do you think the scrolls exist?” Jon asked.

  Marisol shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe. But there’s this other creation myth about an Egyptian god named Ptah, which speaks to the power of words and knowledge. It’s said he spoke the universe into existence, kind of like the Bible story in Genesis. Sometimes legends intersect across cultures, so maybe there’s something to them.”

  “Eulalia mentioned something similar about the potency of words and how they’re essential to my power as Solas Beir,” David said, nodding. “Your Thoth story is an interesting legend, but how does it relate to the door?”

  “It sounds like the door is a portal,” Marisol reasoned. “Thoth was considered by some to be a messenger of the gods. Like Anubis, he was connected to the underworld. If the door is a portal linking our worlds, then maybe the Egyptians saw the shape-shifters here in their animal forms and that got incorporated into the legend. Think about it.”

  “If the door is a portal, that would explain why I dreamed about it,” Abby said. “But how does that help us if the door is in Egypt?”

  “It’s not,” Marisol smiled. “It’s in Vegas.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Jon asked.

  Marisol’s smile turned into a grin. “Deadly serious.”

  “What’s
it doing there? Shouldn’t it be in a museum?” Abby asked.

  “It is in a museum. Sort of,” Marisol added. “It’s in a new casino.”

  “Wait. How does that work? And why would Egypt let go of a find like that?” Abby asked.

  “Money,” Marisol explained. “Let’s just say the investors made a significant contribution to the folks in charge of the find. Antiquity is a family-friendly casino combined with a museum of history and science. The resort has kind of an archeologist-slash-eco-warrior theme. There’s not just stuff on archeological finds; there are exhibits on conservation too. Preserving our treasures of yesterday, today, and tomorrow—that’s the slogan.”

  “Neo Indiana Jones?” Jon asked.

  “Yeah. More or less,” Marisol said.

  “Okay. I’ll buy that. But isn’t it a bit of a contradiction? I mean, how does the eco thing work in a city that celebrates material extravagance?” Abby asked.

  “I know,” Marisol frowned, “but the marketing team said it would appeal to young, educated couples with kids and money to burn. It’s edutainment. Antiquity is the newer, friendlier face of Las Vegas. Plus the museum qualifies for a pretty nice tax break.”

  “Wait a sec,” David interjected. “I’m missing something. How do you know so much about this, again?”

  Marisol felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. “My dad. He’s one of the investors.”

  “Oh. Now I get it.” David patted her shoulder. “You know, my dad probably would have invested in that project too. He liked anything that was educational.”

  Marisol nodded, feeling less self-conscious. Abby could be a little self-righteous sometimes. Maybe it was easy to think that way when you’d never had money. At least with David, Marisol didn’t feel like she had to apologize for having wealth.

  “Okay, so say this door is in Vegas, and say it is a portal. If we could reopen it, would it take us to the Eastern Oracle? In theory?” David asked.

  “It might,” Cael nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe it would.”