by M. S. Verish
“Not every adventure is planned in detail,” the Markanturian said, taking a puff from his pipe.
“Guess not,” Jinx said. “Never thought I’d be on any adventure.”
“Do take care of yourself,” Arcturus warned. “I would like to think that our paths could cross again.”
Jinx brightened at the thought. “Yeah, they could.”
There was a knock upon the door, and Arcturus frowned. “Even here we cannot enjoy privacy,” he grumbled. He rose from his chair and opened the door a crack. “What could you possibly have to say that has not been said?” he demanded.
“More of the truth, perhaps,” came William’s voice.
Jinx and Kariayla exchanged a glance. “We should go,” she mouthed, and Jinx nodded.
“No, no—I just need Arcturus,” William said, peering through the crack from outside.
The Markanturian hesitated, then nodded at his companions. “If you will excuse me…” He drew his cloak tighter and headed out into the blustery evening. “I have nothing to say to you, William,” he asserted, pipe between his teeth.
“Then allow me to talk.” The wizard gestured down the path, and the two began to walk. “I realized I approached this in the worst possible way.”
“Hmph!”
“I…er…have no doubt you recall the incident over your staff.” William tapped Whitestar with the brim of his hat.
“That particular ‘incident’ has been at the forefront of my mind,” Arcturus said, “and it is entirely why I do not trust you now. Here we are with another cantalere you covet, and you want someone to retrieve it for you. You had this fever in your eyes when the staff fell into your hands. You were not going to let it go, and what was I to do? I do not know all your secrets, William, but had you not finally relented, I dread to think of the consequences. I will not be placed in that position again. And I certainly will not follow a guide I do not trust. What is especially troubling is that he seems privy to those secrets you keep from me. This secret city and its school…how dull do you think I am? It seems to me that you are not the one in control—that it is you who answers to an unknown superior.”
“You are not far from the truth,” William said, “but you must believe me when I say I cannot elaborate.”
“‘Hawkwing’ knows, does he not?” Arcturus’s dark eyes narrowed upon him as they walked.
“Regretfully so, and Hawkwing knows a great many things that one man alone should not know. He does shoulder a great price for that knowledge.”
Arcturus wore his doubt plainly.
“He is an incredible individual, and I do put many fears to rest with him at the forefront of this mission. It is unfortunate the two of you are at odds, because I had so hoped to have you a part of this.”
“Why?” Arcturus demanded.
“Well,” William said, “for all of Hawkwing’s talents, he is not a politician. Your logic and ability to argue reason excels in much the same way his instincts and intuition are his assets. You will be able to relate to the Priagent in a way no other can. Your knowledge of Secramorian history and magical antiquities will make this venture believable. You are a formidable leader, and as you have told me yourself, nearly rose to office because you had earned the faith and trust of your people.”
“Yes, and instead I was exiled and became a cantankerous old man stuck in a world of Human discrimination. Do not think you can flatter me into this journey. I hold no illusions about my past or my current situation.” He stopped before a bridge so he could lean on the railing and catch his breath.
William studied him as he finally went back to his pipe. “Old and cantankerous though you may be, you are still the feisty Markanturian I met in Mystland all those years ago. And you are my good friend. I mentioned Whitestar for a reason. You saved me from a grave error.”
“Hmph.”
“Think what you will on your role, but I am as ashamed now as I was then that the staff had such a hold over me. But you should realize that the Ravenstone is no less powerful, and it is real. I do not want it, and I would not take it if you handed it to me from your pocket. But Priagent Rashir Diemh has the stone, and assuming he knows how to use it, he has no one to stop him from accessing that power. It is because you witnessed my weakness that you know what is at stake here. You can pick and choose what you heed from my words, but deep down, you know.”
“And you wish for me to slap him on the wrist and tell him how morally wrong he would be to abuse such power,” Arcturus said, waving the pipe.
“No, that is why you have with you a thief to steal the stone.”
Arcturus made a face. “Children, William! They are children, and they do not know the value of their lives. How can you entice them and believe it just?”
“They are infinitely younger than you, yes,” William said, holding his ground, “but they are not children. The young man is a young man and quite capable of his own decisions. He was making them before you plucked him from the street, and he is learning from them. I have kept nothing from him about his potential role, and he has acknowledged the risks. You are fond of the girl, and you want to protect her, but when you leave this place, what will you do? If you were anyone but a Markanturian and a Nemelorean, you might travel the Link, but you know as well as I do the reality of that dream. From what you have disclosed to me, you have already faced it.”
William sighed. “In the end, you will do what you must do, and you will still view me as a selfish, manipulative wizard. But I am also your old friend and instructor, coming to you for help because I trust you, and there are so very few about whom I can state that claim.” He patted Arcturus on the back. “Dinner will be waiting when you return. I will not be joining you, as I have some preparations to attend to.”
Arcturus puffed his pipe in thought as he watched the wizard stroll down the path, whistling as though he had not a care in the world. Arcturus knew better, and he hated to acknowledge that there just might be more to this mission than the machinations of an eccentric old instructor.
*
What am I doing? Kariayla thought, pulling her cloak tighter. The temperature was falling with the sun, and every passing breeze made her shiver. She had declined Jinx’s offer to walk her back to William’s tower; she needed time to think—to think about how she had made the wrong decision. Though, the decision had never formally been hers: Arcturus had announced their course of action.
“This is nonsense,” he had said. “We will have none of it.” And so it was done.
Except she was not satisfied. No matter how much the uncertainties of this mission frightened her, no matter how much more sense it made to remain with her wizened friend, Kariayla could not help but feel she was walking away from an opportunity to change her fate. An opportunity from the Great Spirits, she thought. A chance at redemption. A chance to return home.
She paused at the crest of a hill, gazing ahead to the central hub of the city, watching the trace snowflakes eddy from the darkening sky around her destination. William’s tower shone like a silver needle, catching the last of the sun before this day of many discussions would come to an end.
One outcast girl. That’s me. How do I help? What should I do? She was not ready to head back—not yet. She wanted to reach a decision. Or perhaps she knew what she wanted but had yet to justify that desire to herself. There was Arcturus’s logic, but then there was her situation—the one of which he was unaware.
Kariayla spied something else in the waning light—what looked like an outcrop of white stone just beyond the city’s outer structures. Solitude. The walk would end in darkness, but she did not have to walk. The wind had risen just enough….
She spread her wings, took a running start, and pushed herself upwards against the cool mountain air. She had not flown in many weeks—perhaps even months. Already she could feel the strain of those underused muscles, but the effort was worth the venture. Jumull glinted like hundreds of candles below her, and the sun tipped its hat as she rose
to meet it in the unimpeded world of Sky. The wind carried her along as she came upon her destination…only to find it had already been taken.
It was too late to turn back; she was advancing quickly and had to angle her wings to slow her descent. It was an awkward landing—not because of her rusty flight skills, but because two sets of eyes were watching her curiously. She was blushing before her feet lighted upon the stone.
“We have unexpected company,” Hawkwing said to Snowfire, who was perched beside him, finishing what remained of her latest meal. He cradled a worn journal in his lap, and there was an object between his black-smudged fingers. Not only was it the first time she had seen his large hands without gloves, but, she realized he was drawing. Or writing.
She took a step forward, but he closed the cover, and the object disappeared entirely as he tucked it away. Then, with all the subtlety of a fading rainbow, his hands were covered again, and he was regarding her with those knowing golden eyes.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Kariayla said, hesitant to take another step in his direction. “I…I didn’t think anyone would be out here.”
“Understandable. Nor did I,” he admitted. He patted the stone, inviting her to sit. “You are not intruding. We merely shared the same idea.”
Solitude. And I ruined it. But there was no turning back now, and so she sat with him, noticing yet another object before him, though this one he did not tuck away. It was the map of Northern Secramore—the one Arcturus had returned to him.
“I was studying our route,” Hawkwing said. He pointed to the coast, where the city of Orecir was neatly printed. “Our destination is not far from your homeland.”
Kariayla nodded, uncertain how to respond.
“From Orecir, we would have to travel north and deliver the stone to Veloria.”
“The Great Forest,” she mouthed. “Why there?”
He smiled at her. “You are not the skeptic Arcturus seems to be. I think you know why.”
“The Ilangiel.”
Hawkwing nodded. Then, to her surprise, he rolled up the map and set it aside. “I do believe the world grows smaller.”
Kariayla blinked. “Smaller?”
“I was thinking of all the places I’ve been,” Hawkwing said, picking up a soft stone, “each connected by the roads I’ve traveled. I do not travel them alone, and what was once uncharted becomes another label on the map.” He marked several points, then connected them in dusty lines that resembled a spider’s web. “So much has changed since I assumed the name Jaharo Halensa. In your lifetime, this world will change even more.” He glanced at her, then gestured to the web. “Where do you see yourself? Where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know that it is my choice,” Kariayla answered, trying to guess at his motive. “The Great Spirits guide us in ways we aren’t aware.”
“Perhaps.” He set the stone on the web. “But we are also responsible for our own choices. That is the inherent freedom of the lives we lead. No one—not even the Great Spirits—can take that from you.”
“Do you believe in the Great Spirits?” Kariayla asked.
“There are spirits, yes,” Hawkwing said quietly. “I’ll not speak for their influence in our lives. We know only the choices we make, and we shoulder the consequences of our decisions. That said…” He stretched and rubbed his chin. “I have a tale for you.”
Kariayla pulled her cloak around her and waited.
“Drena was an only child,” Hawkwing began. “Born into a close-knit family who lived in a beautiful valley in the mountains. It had been their legacy, this valley, and for generations they had farmed the land and drank from its streams. Drena knew that she would inherit this land when she was old enough, and she knew she would marry and raise a family to farm the fertile soil as had been the tradition.
“Though she knew this would be her path, she dreamt of the mysteries a young woman might consider for her future. She envisioned her husband—a strong, devoted man who would protect her and help her raise many children. And the children—there would be at least two boys and two girls—their names already carefully chosen based on romantic and fantastical stories told to her in her youth.”
Kariayla smiled at this, as did Hawkwing. “I can’t say I’ve thought of either,” she admitted. “In the temple, I would not be allowed to marry, let alone have children.”
“Then you undoubtedly had other dreams to guide you,” Hawkwing said. “But I can say that many of the ladies I had known in my youth held tightly to these fantasies. The young men, however envisioned battles and wealth and property.”
“Did you?” she asked.
Hawkwing shrugged. “I was a young man once.”
“Aren’t you still… I mean, you do not look old,” Kariayla said, her cheeks heating.
“Old enough to not be young, but not so old as to be revered as such. I digress.” He tipped his hat and continued. “Drena knew her future well enough, and she doubted little would change when her family sent her on her first journey alone in the mountains. She was sent to find a rare plant for the village medic—an herb known as cloudflower—so named because it grew high upon the mountains, poking through snow, enveloped by clouds.”
Snowfire made a sound and stepped onto Hawkwing’s waiting hand. He stroked the feathers beneath her bill, and she nestled. “Drena set out on a cloudy morning, a heavy bag upon her back, brimming with the essentials she would need for her mission. She spent days following the rough paths into the heart of the mountains, climbed the rocks, hunted her meals, and listened for the spirits to guide her to the right ledge. She had been told to find the rock known as Ram’s Head, but to her, a little imagination could shape any large stone into a beast. Daunted but not despairing, she searched until she reached a pass. Once she had crossed through, clear as the sun on a cloudless day, Ram’s Head rose to meet the sky. There was no mistaking it.
“Excited by her find, she immediately went to scale the rock. It began to snow as she climbed, but Drena would not relent; she was eager to return to her family. Midway through her climb, she saw it. Even as the flakes fell into her eyes, she could see the pale blossom drooping from its precarious niche in the stone several feet above her. Drena had nearly reached the plant when she realized she had no more footholds in the stone. The facing was smooth, and there was nowhere for her to climb. If she could reach just a little farther, her fingertips might snare the stem. She held her breath and stretched out her arm. She could just feel the fragile stem…” Hawkwing reached out his hand, then closed his gloved fist. “But it was too far. Her fingers gave way, and she fell backward.”
Kariayla bit her lip.
“The rocks were merciless beneath her body as she glanced off their unyielding surfaces. She collided, slid, scraped, and rolled until at last the momentum of the fall failed. Then she lay still, each pained breath coming slow and shallow. She had not fallen the whole distance to the ground, or she would not have survived. She found herself on a small ledge, isolated and immobile. She was battered and bruised, but amazingly, her worst injury was a broken arm. But it was badly broken, the bone jutting through her skin.”
Kariayla winced.
“Despite the pain, Drena managed to gather a small pile of debris. She tried to keep it dry beneath the overhang, for she would only have one opportunity to attract attention. When the sky grew dark, she lit a fire and prayed that someone would see it.
“Now whether it was fortune or fate that a young man should be venturing through that particular pass, no one can say. But he saw her firelight, and he went to investigate. He tended to her wound and took her home…but not before he was able to snare the cloudflower from where it grew.
“Drena’s family was much relieved to have her back, but the journey home had seen to it that Drena and her rescuer had become well acquainted. Better than acquainted. The young couple had fallen in love. Drena’s family approved of the match, and the two were married. For all appearances, Drena was fulfilling her destiny.�
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Hawkwing paused for a long while, and Kariayla wondered if he would finish the tale. His attention had shifted to Snowfire, who had all but fallen asleep upon his arm.
“What happened?” Kariayla asked at last.
“The young man might have matched Drena’s ideal but for one great flaw: wanderlust. He could not keep his feet planted in one place for too long. But he did try. He stayed with her family, worked the land, and loved his new wife, but he was restless and became irritable and distant. Drena feared that he would leave her, and so she sent him away.”
Kariayla’s brow furrowed. “Why would she do that?”
“Love is an amazing gift, and sometimes it means sacrifice. She let him go on the condition that he must return to help during the harvest season.”
“Did he?” Kariayla asked.
“He did. And the two of them forged a new arrangement. He would leave after the spring planting and return for the harvest each year. In that time, they had a daughter, and he promised that when she was old enough, the three of them would travel together.”
“Did they?” Kariayla asked, expecting another twist in the story.
Hawkwing lifted his head, his eyes upon the horizon. He was slow to speak, and when he did, his tone was softer. “Yes, they did. The three of them left the valley despite the protests of her family. It was difficult for her to leave her home, but she told herself that she would return one day. But there was so much to see, and there were so many wonders to share… She did not return, but she had no longing to do so. Every day was a new adventure, and she greeted each dawn with renewed excitement. Their daughter grew a knowledge and respect of all things, and it happened that one day in their travels, she fell in love with a young man from a small village.
“By then Drena and her husband were older, and they did not travel quite so well. They settled with their daughter in that village, and they were content to have their turn to watch their grandchildren grow.” Hawkwing roused Snowfire with a gentle lift of his arm. “Sometimes it is worth taking a chance, for no matter how much we plan our future, we will never completely master our fate. We think we know what we want, but the truth is, we haven’t even glimpsed all our opportunities.”
