“You’re awake, then?” came a familiar voice.
She sat up with difficulty.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Yes, it’s me. And I saved your life, if you might recall. You could try sounding a little happier about it,” the bird said, wherever he was.
She was still too groggy to rise to the bait. “Why can’t I see?”
“We’re in a cave underground. If it’s any consolation, I can’t see a thing, either.”
She felt around on her jacket and found a light khipu by touch. Her left arm still wouldn’t move, so she pulled the tie cord with her teeth. The knots flashed as they came undone, then the light spread down the wool and settled to a bluish glow.
The bird hadn’t lied; they were in a cave. She couldn’t tell how big it was, the light wasn’t strong enough, but she could see the flat bit like a beach where she was sitting and what looked like an underground lake. The bird perched on a rock a few paces away. She caught it staring at her with a dumbstruck expression, the light reflected in those bright dark eyes. It started preening itself to cover up.
“That was … interesting,” it said.
“Haven’t you ever seen khipu magic before?”
It shook its head. There it went, acting human again. “I’ve seen plenty of magic in my time, but that’s a new one on me.”
There was something about it that wasn’t quite natural. Its movements were too sinuous, like those illusions Tumen Cara would conjure up to entertain the clan children. Obviously it wasn’t a real bird, she could conclude that much. Everybody knew that birds couldn’t talk.
“What are you?” She reached up with her good hand to rub her head.
The bird hop-fluttered down to her and peered closely at her throbbing arm. Was he delaying?
“I’m your spirit guide. Before we get into any detail, you should wash up. Demon blood’s notoriously bad for wounds.”
Her skin and clothes were all covered in a sticky, half-dried substance. A mixture of her own blood and some black and tarry stuff that gave off an acrid smell when she touched it. Yech. Then she realized she had another problem. Her bow and arrows were still in the sling that was half sliding off her shoulder, but the sack was nowhere to be seen.
She started to stand up. That turned out to be a bad idea, as a wave of dizziness and nausea came over her and she lurched, only just managing to catch a stalagmite for support. She disentangled herself from the sling and started undoing the ties of her jacket one-handed. The stork politely settled itself – himself? – on a rock facing the other way. She dropped the jacket on the floor, then took off her boots and her leggings, smock, then finally her underwear. What the heck, he was just a bird. She lay the compass on top of the pile of her clothes.
When she was finally naked, she stepped down to the edge of the lake. Real water, this, not that rippling lead. Liquid water! A king’s hoard of it. If only the Rattlingbones could see her now. She realized she was desperately thirsty, and bent down to drink.
“Bird?”
It cocked its head, though it was still facing the other way.
“There’s … things in the water.” She eyed the dark shapes that flickered within, keeping just outside arm’s reach. “They’re alive.”
“Those are fish. They used to be common once. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.”
“Seriously? Fish are real?”
The bird nodded, but didn’t say more. Storks were real, though she’d only heard about them in stories before. Apparently, so were fish. Only a little reassured, she stepped into the water. It was cold – very cold. It made her gasp as she edged in slowly, the cave rock slippery under her feet. The fish darted in retreat from her.
“Bird?” she said again.
“Yes?” There was only a touch of irritation in his voice.
“Are you going to explain now?”
“All right.” He made a preparatory ruffle of feathers. “I’m Oscar the Bird, spirit guide sent by the Stars to help you fulfill your destiny.”
It sounded like he was reciting a spiel. Very suspicious. She decided not to reply right away. Instead she took the time to run over her body and count her wounds. You really managed to get yourself banged up this time. There were bruises and scratches aplenty and both red and black blood all over. Her skin was pinkened and burned, especially where her clothes hadn’t been covering her during the fight, her head ached where it was struck, and the ribs all down her left twinged. They were probably cracked. Her arm was the worst: it was red and swollen, and burned whenever she tried to move it. It hung at the wrong angle.
She didn’t know how to set bones. If her arm was broken, what was she going to do about it out here in the wilderness?
Now, about that bird…
“If you’re my spirit guide,” she said slowly, “your job is to look out for me, right?”
The bird nodded.
“Why are you appearing to me now, and never before?”
“I didn’t show myself until you truly needed me.”
The two-faced bastard, to give her a line like that! “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the past few days?”
A long pause from Oscar. He cocked his head, as if listening to something far away. “Um… Something bad. Something very bad.”
“Didn’t really need you? Didn’t really need you? You’re some townsperson’s witchcraft! Someone coached you to say that!” She probably would have attacked him then, but her weapon was back on the shore, and it hurt her sides just to shout.
“Now hold on just a minute, girl-child. I–”
The light khipu, left on the shore, fizzled out. Oscar squawked in distress.
“They only last so long,” she explained. “I’m not going to light another, because I only have so many. You’ll just have to do without.”
A pause. “Are you going to be all right here?”
“What?”
“Are you going to be all right if I leave, for just a minute?”
“Why?” Nasan turned her head, but of course, she couldn’t see anything.
The stork didn’t answer. There was a fluttering of wings from the direction of the rock he’d been on, then nothing. No reply when she called out his name. He seemed to have abandoned her for now. It should have been a worrisome development, but part of her was relieved. He was an incredibly irritating spirit.
She took advantage of the peace and quiet to rinse the blood off as best she could, wincing over the hurt parts. She’d never bathed totally immersed in water before. Back with the Rattlingbones, she was used to making do with a bowl and a damp cloth, if that. It was oddly pleasant.
When she finished she felt the way out with her feet to the beach. Now that she was wet she was starting to shiver. With a little toeing around in the dark she found her clothes. They were still crusted with demon blood. Ick. But they were all she had, so she shook herself dry as much as possible and started putting them on one-handed.
She was halfway through pulling up her leggings when there was a flutter of wings and a plop nearby.
“I brought your pack,” came Oscar’s voice.
She reached out and found it in the dark. It was torn all down one side, but all its contents were still there. Her hand ran into the broken halves of the spear on the ground next to it.
“You carried that? You’re a quarter my size!”
His silence was a yes.
She realized she ought to be grateful to the bird, but she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Instead of answering she got the firesticks out of the sack. She grudgingly opened a fire khipu up, just a little bit, enough to let out a spark. The firestick kindled and caught fire.
It didn’t provide much light, not nearly as good as the light khipu, but the dried, compressed horse dung of the firestick would burn slower. This one should last her for about an hour.
She wrapped herself up in the square of tent canvas and huddled next to it. The flames licked at the vaguely brick-shaped chunk wit
hout giving much heat.
“Would you like some–” She caught herself. “Do you eat?”
“A little, yes.”
“Would you like some barley paste?” she said, by way of an apology.
The bird hopped over to her, and she fished around in the pack for the paste. Her hand ran into the glider’s egg. For a moment, she paused. She’d save that for eating later. Barley this time.
She peeled back the cloth wrapping it and broke a chunk off for the bird. It – he – held it under a claw and pecked at it politely. She ate, too.
“Dunno what I’m going to do when it runs out,” she said. “I never thought this would happen to me. Running out of food before I do water.”
And she had her arm to worry about. It still throbbed, and it still wouldn’t move. And where the heck was she?
“You don’t know my name, do you?” she said suddenly.
The bird blustered.
“I can tell, you keep calling me girl-child.” She kicked the sack away. “For another thing, what’s all this about my destiny?”
And then something very peculiar happened to Oscar. He seemed to be fighting with something invisible. He wriggled his head, as if to shake it free of a net, and squinted – was that supposed to be a grimace?
“I can’t tell you,” he said finally, panting.
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s against the rules,” he said. “I’m under these rules for … reasons that I can’t talk about, either. I can give hints, though.”
“Oh, isn’t that lovely?” She rolled her eyes over the barley paste.
“You’re going to be doing something very important. It has to do with the fate of the world.” The best part was that Oscar looked utterly serious as he said it.
“Keep on telling me that, witch-spirit. Maybe once I figure out what you are, I’ll get some more answers.” She pulled the canvas around her and gingerly lowered herself down. “Until then, good night.”
Then, on second thought, she levered herself up a little. “One other thing, bird. My name’s Nasan. It means ‘life.’ I don’t have a clan name anymore.”
It was highly satisfying to see the bird just look at her with its beak half open. She rolled over and closed her eyes.
Coming in fall 2010 to Smashwords!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
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