“Only if he’s after pies.” Wisdom chortled.
“Speaking of which,” Blackavar said, “a fine woman from that far shop said that a Mr. Phine’s pie was ready.”
Wisdom motioned toward the building. “What better timing? Would you mind, Ashpin, to fetch it for me? We can deliver it to the harbor afterwards.
“Easy enough.”
It did not take long for Ashpin to reach the small bakery. When he stepped inside, most of the floor place was taken by stacked crates and mini barrels. Each was cushioned with straw for displaying goods – mostly dishware and canned items. There was no one inside, so Ashpin let his nose do the work for him. He could smell baked apples and followed the scent toward the back. As he turned the corner, a munching sound made him pause. With a slight smirk, he had a mind who was also in the room.
Before him stood Peter, bent over a pie by the windowsill. The sound of smacking lips and loud swallowing met his ears.
“Are you just desperate?” Ashpin calmly said.
Peter whirled on his heels, smearing pie across his chin in the process. Behind him, an open window confirmed how he had entered. A passing breeze ruffled his short, blond hair around the ears. He continued chewing, not caring if Ashpin saw him suck a few fingers after digging them under the piecrust.
“Not bothering me.” Ashpin shrugged. “But if I were you, I’d be mindful of someone else’s wrath.”
Peter just continued eating. Only when he finished did he wipe his mouth across a sleeve. He held out the half empty dish.
“What of it?” and let it drop.
The dish smacked the floor with a loud splat! Apple slices and crust burst from its container, splattering all the way to Ashpin, who merely glanced down at a few wet spots on his shoe. He firmed his jaw. Apple juice he could handle. Incompetence was another.
“You think I’m taking the blame for this?” He crossed his arms. “They already know you’re responsible.”
“Not unless they don’t see me!” Peter made a dash for the window. He was halfway out when Ashpin yanked him back inside. Although Peter was slimmer, the weight difference toppled them both. Over pie-smeared floor they rolled, punching and cursing. Their squabble jostled a crate hard enough to spill jars and dishes from its display. Ignoring the splatter of syrups sticking to their clothes, they kept on until, out of breath, the two scrambled to separate corners.
For several moments neither said a word. Ashpin listened for the hopeful sounds of someone entering the building. Alas, none came. He noted a lantern swinging lazily back and forth over one of the crates. How did we bump that?
“What happened...to the others?” Ashpin asked in between quick breaths. “The ones who helped you the other day?”
“I don’t need help!” Peter picked up a jar and threw it – hard.
Ashpin ducked behind a barrel just as the jar whizzed overhead. It smashed against the far wall. Doesn’t anyone else hear this?
“What’s your deal?” Ashpin cautiously peered over the barrel. “So you got caught. Fess up and get over it!”
Peter had another jar, tossing it from hand to hand. “To who? That filthy albino?” He sauntered toward Ashpin’s shielded location, jar still in hand. “He’s got my father wrapped around his finger like some stringed puppet!” He took a swing. Glass shattered, forcing Ashpin to cover his face. Cold jam slid down his arm, making him angry.
“I wouldn’t know the details.” Ashpin gritted his teeth. “I’m just here to collect pie.”
The boy grabbed a nearby tray, not caring if it knocked over anything at this point. He shielded himself from another hit. Yet before Peter could pick up anything else, Ashpin rushed him. Keeping the tray between them, he forced the other boy toward the back window. The floor was slick. Without warning, Ashpin lost his footing. He felt the tray being ripped from his grasp. A sharp kick to the abdomen left him breathless.
Sliding on his belly, Ashpin saw another kick coming and grabbed the boy’s leg. He held tight as Peter tried to shake him off, then dragged him through remaining pie and syrup. By now, both were skidding over spots of slippery goo, with Peter’s thrashing getting more desperate.
A sudden crash made them both pause. The lantern, previously swinging from above, had broken from its holder over one of the crates. Smoke immediately fumed as oil from within soaked through straw and ignited.
“We have to put it out!” Ashpin released Peter’s leg. On hands and knees, he scrambled over the floor trying to get up. “Hurry!”
“We’re not through here yet!” Peter grabbed hold of Ashpin’s collar.
Finding his footing, Ashpin slammed an elbow to Peter’s gut. It was enough time to grab an empty sack and start beating out the flames. Jars toppled from the force of each swing. The sack seemed to be working when something heavy landed on his back.
“Get off!” Ashpin tried slamming himself against a wall. “What’s wrong with you? We’ll both get killed!” The smell of smoke intensified.
An arm wrapped around his neck, cutting off air.
Should have walked out; should have let him go, Ashpin kept thinking.
From the corner of his eye, something dropped from a corner stairway. Tall and dark, he figured it was something else falling from their chaos. Yet at Peter’s gasp and sudden release, he knew otherwise.
He turned around as Peter slumped into the arms of another, but there was no time to distinguish the intrusion.
“Finish it!” came a deep, accented woman’s voice.
He did just that. The flames finally died down, leaving only a haze that clouded the shop’s interior. He was glad Peter had left the window open, for it helped direct the smoke outside.
He turned to the stranger. Her image was a mere silhouette against the window. As his eyes adjusted to her uncanny appearance, he realized she was anything but human.
“Who—”
“I had thought the lantern would bring him to his senses.” She sighed, holding the boy close to her breast. A dark outfit complemented her appearance. Long, black locks framed a russet face and dark lips. Yet it was those fiery, amber eyes that held his attention. When she turned away, a hint of wings dipped into view.
The sound of voices drew his attention toward the front.
“Tell no one but the prince.”
Ashpin looked back to a ripple of smoke gathering where she had once stood. He glanced down at his spoiled clothing. I could tell them the lantern broke and I took on fire and had to roll in pie to get it out.
The door opened. A woman screamed.
*****
A raven rested on a limb that overlooked the road. On one side stretched a vast forest. On the other, a lively field of tall grasses rolled like a sea when the wind blew. The smell of Lo-ans’rel was informative, but welcome.
He was on the right path.
Opal eyes strained for distant signs of human settlements. In this form, Jangus felt secure. Black feathers easily blended with shadow, creating an ideal form of camouflage. In Lexington, he had eavesdropped on conversation, then left his own droppings as a way to mark territory.
He cackled. I should mark them all again upon my return!
A sharp clap of thunder captured his attention further down the road. From flight, he had seen a great storm. Its building mass of revolving clouds butted against a sun-filled sky as though a sheet of glass separated the two. Yet, as uncanny as it seemed, this troubled Jangus very little.
The storm could offer better hiding.
He fanned out his tail feathers and prepped his wings for flight. The smell of opposition faded toward the west.
Call yourself a Healer? Jangus pushed himself into flight. Black wings graced the air currents and lifted him skyward while another round of thunder called him closer. Afraid of a little rain, Shy?
He pumped his wings harder, watching how the landscape passed below in a blur of color. At his approach, the storm seemed to consider him by quieting.
“You should!” Jangus
cawed loudly. “I will not submit to cowardice!”
A bolt of lightning jumped from one build-up to the next, followed by a clap of thunder. The clouds took a breath, seeming to pull back a fleeting moment. That was when Jangus took his chances and entered darkness. The ground looked scorched. Sunlight suffocated until snake-like fingers of clouds curled around and snatched the raven into its midst.
The Healer floundered in a sudden wind whipping his feathers in every direction. While his head pounded with uncertainly, his pride kept him going. Hot, white streaks brought every follicle on end. It reflected in his white eyes scanning for an opening in the blackness. Blindly, he pressed on, until the clouds at last parted to reveal a clearing.
An eerie stillness hung in the air. The surrounding storm remained, but quieted. He paid little attention to the various ferns and underbrush with their strange coloration. Here, trees shrewdly slunk upwards with black-veined leaves as he landed on a pair of coal-black gates.
Good! Another territory to claim. Jangus peered up at a looming castle. Not intimated by its sheer size, he lifted his tail feathers to mark the iron bars below with flecks of white dropping.
A dense fog had obscured most of the building. Slowly, it pulled aside. Designs carved into stone arched high over the threshold in an unpleasant frown. Two matching triangles slanted above the entrance like two narrowing eyes.
“Do’ a-exo’ ser jolont sies’,” a rasping whisper penetrated his thoughts. Current motivations erased, leaving the raven in a daze to follow the words, “You will do as I command.”
CHAPTER 9
Evening settled around three travelers slowly making their way along the dirt road. Delexi, with a slight limp to his gait, led the way with Katherine and Twilight following close to his side. Waning sunlight had triggered the Healers’ pupils to expand, allowing a better glimpse of barren fields lining the road’s right side. They could see its wavering tips every time a passing breeze swept low. To their immediate left a vast expansion of forest followed their path as far down until curving over a hill. In the distance a rumble of thunder greeted their ears.
“We’re close,” the wolf growled. He repeatedly looked to the sky, drawn to the hazed glow of moon behind a thin covering of clouds.
“I’ll say.” Katherine waved a hand back and forth in front of her nose to fan the air.
Twilight let out a quick breath while mimicking her actions. “Maybe Jangus should have been a Wind Healer; he knows more about changing the smell of air than shifting forms.”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “And proper shifting at that.”
“You don’t suppose he knows we’re following, do you?” Twilight checked for movement between the trees.
“Well, he’s not slowing down,” Katherine said.
Delexi grunted and shuffled his nose through the dirt. He must have looked comical to the other two with dust tinting his snout. Their snickers sent him snapping at their heels.
For the remainder of the trip, no one spoke. It was not until they were overlooking the Realm of Sapphire that the wolf perked his ears to Katherine’s intake of surprise. This triggered a nervous growl from Twilight while they stared down into a void of pure darkness. Everything about the landscape was black. The more they stared, the more they realized this was not the same kind of black from a moonless night that raised the hairs on the backs of their necks. Not even the moon, had it been fully visible, could have penetrated the thick wall of clouds creating the enormous storm seen only when a flicker of lightning streaked from one section of swirling mass to another.
“You’re joking me.” Twilight balked. “Even Jangus wouldn’t be that stupid! Still… You don’t think Shy..?”
“Was hopefully a bit smarter,” the wolf grunted. “We’ll be going around.”
Thunder rolled as much as the clouds continued to swarm. Its constant drone of light and sound kept the three on edge. For the time being, distance would become friend.
Katherine shivered and felt Twilight put an arm around her shoulders for comfort. “That’s not natural. No storm should act like that. What is this?”
“Not of Nature’s doing,” they heard the wolf snort. “But I’ll wager your Jangus won’t make it out the other side as quickly as you think. So keep an eye on it. Perhaps by morning we’ll have made it halfway around.”
*****
Wisdom checked a hazed-over moon from his balcony. A long strand of bristly-looking clouds created a feel of pulsating light lazily washing over the Eastern Clan’s yard. Serene though it seemed, the prince could not help but peek again at the scar. The skin had completely filled in – a stark, white circle against an already pale complexion.
He quickly covered it.
A white gown donned his lithesome figure as he stepped inside the bedroom door. Events that had transpired throughout the day ran through his thoughts. He admired Ashpin’s cool nerves. The boy had held a straight face long enough to explain his version of the shop’s fire. Yet his thoughts revealed a completely different scenario. The fact that the dark winged mistress to Lorens Schevolsky had shown herself proved that she upheld her bargain to contain his children while the prince kept tabs on her own son, Corrigan.
“I should check on Abraham tonight,” Wisdom said to the mirror, though it showed no signs of response. “I’ll need updates on Corrigan should his mother decide to pay me a visit.”
He climbed into bed, but instead of slipping under the covers, sat cross-legged on top. A glance to his desk confirmed the town’s prosperity for the day. Several large money bags, which he would later split with the other clan leaders, sat waiting to be counted and logged.
I should eventually hire a bookkeeper. Wisdom had already counted out a portion to pay for the damages in town. That, combined with other expenses for clan renovations, had taken up the better part of his day. I could easily take care of it with money obtained from the guild. But ‘twould do me no good if nothing comes in to replace it.
The Healer’s ears perked at a sound from the hallway. A few of the harpies were still settling in for the night. Now and then he would hear the rustle of feathers adjusting to their new beds.
There shouldn’t be any interruptions, he thought with eyes closed. He waited for his breathing to steady, relaxed his muscles and rested a hand on each knee. The memory of Abraham’s last warning was still a concern, especially having seen eyes fading into the darkness with his last use of dream-channeling. If Jenario knew, so then would the horn. A low rumble of thunder faintly welcomed him from afar. It was a testimony to the storm’s growth and foreshadowing trials to come.
Slowly, Wisdom tuned everything out and released a mental probe into the night. The trance required energy, the same amount as though he were conducting a full shift. The longer his mind wandered, the more unstable he would become without it. He would need to be quick!
His consciousness followed the probe. No longer confined to the physical body, he allowed the pull of pulsating waves of sound to guide him to the storm’s location. It was easier that way. A hazed path opened before him with grayed vegetation that had been sucked dry by the overhanging storm. Even now he could see its expanding coverage draining the closest life-form. One blade of grass after another withered and curled into a dry, useless shape.
It was ugly, and he hated to think it might do the same to a person.
How ironic would it be for the horn’s darkness to use my own hate against it! He chuckled, though the comical thought was short-lived by a clap of thunder that pounded inside his head – like it was laughing.
He did not linger and quickly found the core of the storm more convenient, being the inside of Jenario’s home. Then, the search began.
Unlike before, Wisdom did not rely on Nature to guide him. Instead, he sought out active energy leftover from passing individuals. A soft pulse of green strands frantically strewn about in a given space was enough to follow with confidence to the castle’s second and third floors. The more active the energy,
the more they dotted his vision. When it began swarming around one of the bedroom doors, Wisdom knew someone was inside.
But who? He checked his own mental strength before plunging into the occupant’s mind – and was suddenly thrown out!
Wisdom could not physically smell liquor. Instead, his mind generated enough of the feeling to realize the one he had just entered was fully intoxicated.
Nathaniel… His probe caught a glimpse of various bottles lying on tabletops. To his disgust, the assassin was still awake. As the mind-numbing world of a drinker acknowledged his presence, it threw up a barrier. Wisdom could feel the effects of those drinking habits seeping into his own thoughts. The prince staggered outside the room with his probe’s sense of direction slightly skewed.
The bedroom door remained closed.
He may be drunk, but Jenario might be watching him. I need to hurry! A numbing throb muddled the prince’s vision. A part of him wanted out of dream-channeling as he pressed further down the long hallway.
You shouldn’t be here! A voice hit his probe so quick that it jerked him to a halt.
Dream-channeling had its drawbacks, and Wisdom realized that a magic-user might be able to reverse dreams upon himself. He listened for the voice, feeling himself begin to quiver in silent fear of being detected.
Get out!
A forceful thought shoved the Healer’s probe completely from the castle’s interior. Back outside, his failure was met with a thundering laugh. All around, the storm seemed to mock him.
With energy spent, Wisdom withdrew.
He fell out on his bed with, What the hell! continuously running through his thoughts. Did someone just use dream-channeling on me?
“Well, what did you expect?” a voice directed his attention over to the mirror.
Slowly, Wisdom was able to sit up to find his reflection already waiting for him in a cross-legged position. Grogginess clouded his better judgment. At an attempt to stand, Wisdom found himself clinging more to the bedposts for support.
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