The Raven (The Secret Chronicles of Lost Magic Book 1)

by Aderyn Wood

  “What am I going to see?” he asked half-heartedly.

  “Oh, her light, her bright light!”

  “Whose light?” Yuli’s father was always saying that Izhur was half mad; perhaps he was right.

  Izhur stopped. “Iluna’s light.” Then he doubled his step.

  Yuli stared. Iluna? “What do you mean?” He ran to catch up, trying to stop his voice from sounding whiney.

  Izhur didn’t slow down as he answered. “She is a gift, from Ona herself, our Iluna. Now, finally they will all see what I have seen.”

  Yuli didn’t really know what Izhur was rambling on about, and he didn’t like the sound of Iluna getting all the attention. She didn’t deserve such a privilege. But at least he wasn’t in trouble; it didn’t sound like it anyway.

  They came to the Soragans’ tent and finally Izhur stopped. He put a hand on Yuli’s shoulder, looking down his slender nose as he spoke. “You are to sit right behind me. When it is time, use the sight as I have been teaching you.” He hesitated. “Or at least try to use it. If nothing happens then just sit still and be quiet, and don’t fidget until it is over.”

  Yuli nodded and followed Izhur into the tent. The other Soragans were all seated and those with prentices had them sit directly behind them as Izhur had instructed him to do. Yuli took a cushion and sat. Then he saw her, Iluna.

  She stood in the middle of the space wearing a ceremonial robe, the one she’d worn for the opening ceremony. It was a plain leather cloak, brown and beaten, with no engraving or decoration. At least it showed everyone her status as tamatu. Iluna looked wide-eyed around her. Belwas was whispering in her ear and she nodded, but fear stirred in her eyes. Yuli smirked. She didn’t belong here.

  A boy stood next to her. Yuli had seen him around camp but did not know his name. Soragan Jana was talking to him. The boy was young, perhaps four. He looked just as scared as Iluna.

  Xaroth struck his staff eight times and silence followed. “It is time.”

  Belwas and Jana took their cushioned seats, and everyone looked to the Grand Soragan.

  “Tonight we will find my new prentice and he, or she, shall return with me when my clan leaves Agria.” His voice, its usual raspy hiss, made him sound more powerful. “I will hear what you have to say. The boy, Ityl, who will speak for him?”

  Jana stood. “I will.”

  Xaroth nodded. “I’m listening.”

  The young Soragan walked into the centre of the circle so that she stood next to Ityl. After his scary experience with the old woman Soragan, Yuli decided he didn’t like girls to be Soragans. Her voice wavered a lot. “Ityl has shown much promise. He has a strong light and there are early signs of divination abilities.”

  Jana spoke about Ityl’s family, and his other skills. He was a promising goat herder, too. Yuli realized this same process would have been done for him when he was a baby. He wondered what Izhur would have said about him then. No doubt he would have spoken about his father’s great hunting skills.

  Finally Jana finished.

  “I thank you,” Xaroth said, before gesturing to the boy. “Come closer. Let me look upon you.”

  Jana put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and nudged him forward. The boy walked reluctantly to Xaroth, tripping on a reed mat.

  “Good, now look at me.” Xaroth gestured toward his own eyes. “Soragans, prentices, open your eyes and see his light.”

  Yuli recognized the cue. “Please let this work, Ona,” he whispered, and stilled his breathing, opening his sight as Izhur had instructed him scores of times. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, and Yuli had no idea why. But this time it worked. His sight opened and he saw through the filter of the Otherworld, where spirits good and evil lurked. Each Soragan and prentice was connected. A fine silver thread ran through each of them, making something akin to a spider’s web in the starlight. It was breathtaking.

  “Ona, show us his light,” Xaroth intoned.

  And a small blue glow radiated deep within the boy’s essence. It pulsed, like a beat, and whispy tendrils weaved out from the centre.

  Yuli’s eyes widened. He’d never seen anyone’s light before. It was beautiful. And it was the mark of the gifted. He wondered what his light would look like.

  “Thank you, child,” Xaroth said, and Yuli lost the vision. “You may sit.” The Grand Soragan gestured with his hand and the boy returned to the centre of the tent, eyes wider than before.

  Yuli’s gaze then turned to Iluna and he remembered what Izhur had been muttering. “They will all see what I have seen.” Was her gift really so great?

  “Who will speak for the girl?” Xaroth’s voice rasped again.

  “I will.” Izhur stepped forward and placed a hand on Iluna’s shoulder.

  “I was present at Iluna’s birth. As many of you know it was a difficult time, one that required my presence as Soragan, for it was the first night of Ilun.”

  There was an audible intake of breath. Yuli heard his own, too. Izhur had never spoken about the details of Iluna’s birth, but he’d heard whisperings about it from his father, and others in the clan. He’d always known there was something strange about the girl.

  “It was during the birth that I first saw her light. I had to help her in the Otherworld. And it was then the brightest light I had ever seen. But she was just a babe, her light has grown since and continues to.” Izhur’s voice had taken on the fast pace it always did when he was excited. “Soragans, prentices. I suggest you brace yourselves.”

  There was a buzz of excitement.

  “Wait.” Xaroth’s whispery voice seemed to cut through the din. “I need to hear of her skills, her abilities, her usefulness to the clan.”

  Izhur’s head snapped up and he peered down his long nose at Xaroth “Everything. Healing, dream-guiding, spirit-warding, Otherworld traveling, visioning, path-finding, soul-seeking, daydreaming, animism, imagining, and divining.” Izhur paused.

  Yuli pouted. This couldn’t be true. He’d never seen Iluna do any of these things. And Izhur hadn’t taught him any of it either.

  ”And one thing more,” Izhur continued. “I believe she holds the gift of binding.”

  At this there was an outbreak of voices as Soragans turned to each other, speaking at once. The old hag, Cypra seemed to be smirking.

  Xaroth raised a hand for quiet and the voices hushed. “What makes you think so?”

  Izhur shook his head. “I have no clear evidence. It is but a feeling. Her animism is strong.”

  Xaroth’s eyes seemed to smile.

  “I would agree with Izhur,” Belwas spoke. “I met with him at our northern gathering a few summers past. I saw her light. But she has something else. A deep ability, I felt it.”

  Iluna’s black hair hung in messy strands. Her eyes were dark and wide, and watched everyone at once as though looking for an escape. She was a witch. Couldn’t they see that?

  “Is her totem known?” Xaroth asked, his eyes squinting.

  “No. I have been training her in the rudiments only,” Izhur said.

  It was a lie. She’d received just as many lessons as Yuli had, probably more by the list of talents Izhur had just rattled off.

  “I am happy to speak to her other strengths.” A woman’s voice cut through the silence – Cypra. Yuli remembered the way she’d looked at him that day he saw Iluna talking to the raven. He wished he could speak now, to tell them the proof that she was a witch. Only witches consorted with ravens despite what the old woman had tried to tell him. Maybe she was a witch, too.

  Xaroth frowned. “Go on.”

  “I can tell you that she is brave and righteous. She is exactly the type of prentice we all look for. Tonight I happened across a group of insolents teasing Golldo. The poor soul had almost drowned after being forced into the river.”

  Yuli gulped.

  “All of the cowards ran when he started to flail,” she continued. “But Iluna, she dove straight into the dark waters of the river, fearless, and saved his li
fe.” Cypra’s icy eyes met Yuli’s, and he froze. Did she know?

  The mood had changed. The Soragans and prentices were all looking at her with admiration, hope even. Yuli felt his lips start to pout again but he forced them to relax.

  “Enough,” Xaroth said. “Come here, child.”

  Izhur whispered to her and Iluna stepped forward.

  Xaroth gestured toward his eyes again. “Ona, show us …”

  Suddenly there was only light. Yuli wanted to turn, to squint even, there was no respite! It radiated out from her in golden beams. Like trying to look at the daysun, it hurt his eyes.

  “Stop her! Get her away!”

  Yuli snapped back from the Otherworld to see Xaroth cowering behind his cushions and holding his hands in front of his face. Izhur grabbed Iluna’s hand and guided her back to the centre of the circle.

  Izhur turned as he spoke, eyeing all of the Soragans. “Now you understand? She is a gift, a great gift from Ona. She, more than any other, needs to be prenticed.”

  Xaroth seemed to recover and dabbed his forehead with his robe. He sat back on his cushions and resumed some semblance of authority.

  “Thank you, Izhur. That will be all.” He gestured towards Izhur’s place in front of Yuli.

  Izhur frowned. “But this is worthy of discussion. You would all agree that there is no other possible candidate. Iluna must be fully prenticed! If not to Xaroth then to one of you. At first I was loath to give her up.” Izhur looked to the ground, his stiff shoulders slumping a little. “I was being selfish. Her gift is so great it would benefit all of us – all clans! Someone must take her on.”

  “I said that will be all!” Xaroth’s hiss cut the air.

  Izhur stood for a moment, glaring at the Grand Soragan. Then he turned and stalked toward his cushion.

  “Thank you. I have made my decision.” Xaroth looked at the circle. “I will take the boy.”

  There was uproar as all the Soragans spoke at once, Izhur the loudest among them. “How can you do that?”

  Xaroth put his hand in the air again. “I have made my decision. The circle is closed for tonight.”

  “But there is another matter we agreed to discuss. Surely you had not forgotten, Xaroth.” Cypra stood in front of him, blocking his way out of the tent.

  Xaroth’s lips turned to a snarl and he shook his head. “I said the circle has closed. We will meet tomorrow night. Jana!”

  The young Soragan got to her feet. “Yes, Grand Soragan?”

  “Tell Ityl’s people the decision has been made. He will be leaving with me two days after Agria.”

  The young Soragan nodded.

  Xaroth stepped around Cypra, and limped out of the tent.

  Part IV

  Winter of the Valley

  Izhur

  Izhur sat in his tree-dwell with two wolfskins tied tight around him. His small fire blazed, offering light and warmth. Outside the daysun danced along the horizon, while the thin crescent of the moon slid higher in the black sky. Both the nightsun and Atoll’s Star had gone to their wintry rest five days past. The seasons were growing colder and darker. Ilun would return the winter after next.

  An icy breeze shivered the back of his neck and Izhur inched closer to the fire to continue his task – grinding cinnamon bark. Yuli didn’t do enough to help with such menial tasks as restocking their stores, and winter was the time to do it. Still, the boy had shown much improvement since – since ...

  Izhur grimaced. He focused on his stone and bowl, and the rhythm of grinding. Yes, Yuli. He had improved. The young man now took their lessons more seriously, and his gift had grown in power. He had aspirations, he’d told Izhur, to be a great Soragan, one so powerful that he could fend off attacking tribes.

  Izhur had to smile. No clan had been attacked by another for an age. The oldest evenfire tales were filled with the great battles between Wolf and Bear; Bear and Snake; Lion and Dragon. Particularly the Dragons. But the Dragon clan no longer existed. Their former lands were far away; the memory of how to find them had been lost. Some even doubted that the Dragon had existed at all. But images of the legendary battles came to Izhur now that he thought of those tales. Blood spilled from spears and axes, battle fires raged, screams pierced the air as mothers and fathers ran to protect their children, and great beasts had flown through the sky, breathing fire. Soragans hurled lightning from their very hands, just as Izhur had that night Iluna was born. A static energy passed through the tree-dwell, causing Izhur’s skin to prickle. He blinked and realised he was looking at his hand. Strange, he’d never been able to do the lightning trick again, not since that night.

  The creak of the steps made him turn to see Talith at the tree-dwell’s entrance carrying an oil pot. Talith was the clan’s messenger boy now, and Izhur wondered what ominous news would be sent at this time.

  “Talith, come in out of the cold. What troubles you?”

  The boy stepped toward the fire, holding a hand to the flames, shivering.

  “I have come to fetch you, Soragan. We have a visitor.”

  Izhur frowned. A visitor – in the middle of winter? It was rare and smelled of trouble, but he nodded and pulled another wolfskin around his shoulders. “I will come.”

  Izhur’s tree-dwell was set apart from the others, as befit his status as the clan’s Soragan. Now that Yuli was his prentice, the boy shared the shelter, but returned to his family’s tree-dwell frequently. More often than he should, although Izhur didn’t reprimand him. The boy was fast becoming a man at nearly fourteen summers, and was now capable of more mature conversation. He pouted less and threw fewer tantrums. Sometimes, Yuli’s company was almost pleasant. But Izhur valued his privacy and delighted in the nights of solitude his prentice’s absence granted him.

  It was dark now. Just the thin sliver of the moon filled the sky. Whispy puffs of clouds concealed it every now and again. They’d probably see snow soon.

  Talith’s oil pot lit their way, revealing spakling icicles on the rocky ground, until they came to the evenfire. The entire clan was there, as was their custom, trying to gather warmth.

  “He’s here,” Ugot said.

  Izhur saw the visitor and his mouth fell open. Her height and short cropped hair made her instantly recognizable.

  “Cypra,” he said.

  “Izhur.” Her eyes burned their ice-blue. “I would talk to you alone.”

  “If you have news we would prefer it shared among the Circle.” Zodor stepped forward.

  Cypra nodded. “And I will share it. But first I will talk to your Soragan. Alone.”

  ∞

  In his tree-dwell Izhur added another log to the fire before offering Cypra a cushion and a warm fur.

  “Some honeywine?”

  Cypra nodded. “Please. It will help take the chill off. Your winters are much colder than ours.”

  He poured a small cup for both of them and joined her by the fire. “Why are you here, Cypra? Something is amiss, is it not? A visitor in winter is a rare thing.”

  Cypra sipped her wine and closed her eyes. She was thinner, drawn. The wrinkles at her eyes seemed deeper. She had aged these last six years. “Yes.” Her eyes, when she opened them were red and teary. “Izhur! My clan, they’re all gone! Killed!”

  Izhur gasped. The Otter Clan? All gone? It must be a mistake. He reached out and touched her arm. Eventually her sobbing calmed and she took another sip of the honey drink, hands shaking.

  “How?” Izhur whispered.

  “Strangers. People. Monsters. Not from any clan. They were strong. So many.” She wiped her nose and caught her breath. “The men, they attacked us and there were too many of them for our hunters to resist. Their hunting tools; they were made of stuff stronger than stone and when they hit rock they caused sparks to fly. They sliced right through our men. And they, they – assaulted our women.

  “I tried to use my gifts. To help in some way. But there were so many of them, and they had their own Soragans. So powerful. Izhur, I saw fire
come from their hands and worse. Their magic.” She shook. “I couldn’t compete with it.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “Golldo.” Cypra shook her head. Her tears ran thick and fat drops of them fell on the wolf pelt on the floor. “He took my hand and forced me to move, to leave. I followed him blindly through the forest. Abandoning my clan.”

  “He wanted to save you.”

  Cypra wore a sad smile. “But one of them, the enemy, he followed us. He tried to swing at me with his knife. But Golldo, he – he ...” Cypra put a palm to her eyes as more sobs took her voice away.

  “He stood in the attacker’s way?” Izhur suggested gently.

  Cypra nodded.

  “And he died for it.” Izhur closed his eyes. Golldo was always considered a monster, a durg. But few would be as heroic.

  “So I took what little power I had left and disguised myself as best I could, and fled. To warn you.”

  “Cypra …” Izhur hesitated, the shock stalling his tongue. “To see such horrific things befall our clan, it is our worst nightmare.”

  Cypra closed her eyes, sniffing.

  “I was only tonight reflecting on the old evenfire tales our children enjoy to hear.” Words finally came to Izhur and he let them spill out. “The Dream-Day tales of Doom that tell of the ancient wars and battles. We’ve all thought those days were in our distant past. But I see they have come around again, as all things do. Perhaps it was not a mistake that I thought on that tonight. Divination is not my strength, as you know, but those thoughts and images, they were vivid. And I have a feeling just now; your clan will not be the last to suffer.”

  Premonitions always left a sickness in him, and Izhur’s stomach roiled with foreboding. Ona’s people had a dark and unknown enemy.

  Cypra nodded, wiping her cheek. “We must send warning to the other clans and summon a meeting of elders and Soragans. We must prepare.”