by Linda Jordan
“Who did this?” asked Mira.
“The Queen. We will sleep here tonight, her spies are out. I worked hard to ensure we went unseen. Now sleep while you can, I will keep watch,” Aste said, moving closer to the opening and peering out.
Mira lay down using one of the smaller supply bags as a pillow. Dylan cuddled in her arms whimpering quietly. She tried to comfort him by humming and rocking. Eventually he slept. Something once used this cave as a den and the floor had been strewn with dried grasses that had disintegrated. It felt hard and cold. She slept badly, dreaming of fire.
They woke in the morning and ate a sparse breakfast of bread and cheese. She heard rustling and thudding nearby. They all started with fear. She felt her heart pounding.
A man’s voice called out, “Aste. Aste are ye here?”
Aste sighed deeply, looking relieved.
Mira followed Aste out to find three horses with saddles, a fourth ready to be packed with bags, and a man with a heavy, dark beard holding their reins. She could barely see in the dim light before dawn. The smell of smoke lay heavily around them.
“I had a feeling you needed horses for a journey, so I brought my girls.”
Mira had begun to wonder if horses would appear simply because Aste asked for them.
“Ivan, bless you. I do indeed,” said Aste, taking the reins. “How is Ceela?”
“She and the babe are well, thanks to you.”
“Good.” Aste turned to the horses and murmured to them. Mira caught something about a long journey and then a question, “Will you carry the four of us and our belongings?” The bay whinnied, the dapple gray nodded her head emphatically, the black stared deeply into Aste’s eyes and the strawberry roan snorted. Mira had never seen horses communicate like this, but felt confident they had responded to Aste’s question.
“Thank you,” Aste said, then turned back to Ivan.
“Aste, what happened here?” he asked, with alarm on his face.
“The Queen attacked.”
He was very solemn and nodded, saying, “It had to come to this.”
Aste looked surprised and said, “Yes, I suppose it did. Keep yourself safe and I will return your horses when I can.” She gestured for him to wait and went inside the cave.
Returning, Aste said, “Please give this to Ceela. It will help strengthen her milk,” she handed him a small bottle. “Just a spoonful with breakfast.”
“Thank you. Do not worry about my girls, keep them as long as there is need,” he said, bowing and walking off into the woods.
Aste and Mira packed the horses as they finished their breakfast. The bread tasted peculiar, filled with dried fruit and nuts. It seemed like granola bread. Hopefully, the chewy texture would sustain her till the next meal came, whenever that would be.
She chose the horse who looked the calmest to ride, the bay, a deep brown mare with black socks, black mane, tail and muzzle. The mare rubbed up against her and took a chomp out of her bread. Mira had never ridden much and certainly not for days on end, but she loved animals.
“I will teach you,” said a voice in her head.
She stood there, shocked. The horse had talked to her. Mira didn’t know what to do or say. “Thank you,” she finally said out loud. The mare simply lowered her head to nibble at some clover as if it was the most natural thing in the world to talk to humans.
She stared at the horse. Did everyone and everything in this world have magic?
The mare looked at her and shook her head back and forth, mane and ears flapping, then stared at her again. “Now that’s just silly,” the mare said to her, then returned to grazing.
Mira continued to try, but couldn’t get a straight answer to her question.
The mare simply snorted as if laughing whenever Mira asked again.
Amanda chose the dappled gray mare and Aste took the black. The roan was the packhorse. Mira felt surprised when Dylan wanted to ride with her. He clearly loved his mom, but was probably put off by her crabbiness, which didn’t exclude him. He knew something was wrong with her and looked to Mira for comfort. She felt awkward, but Amanda didn’t seem to notice or care.
As they packed the horses, she saw movement in the trees. The branches bounced as if alive. She noticed a few birds, but that couldn’t account for all the activity. Dylan ran in circles singing. Then she saw them. Faeries. Lots of faeries. The trees almost exploded with faeries.
When they were all on the horses, Aste began singing. Her soprano carried the main thread and the faeries’ voices wove in and out of hers. It reminded Mira of the music of Hildegard von Bingen, old Medieval chant. The entire forest now lit up with faeries swirling about. There were rustlings from beings in the trees who seemed a lot heavier than the faeries.
The light became brighter in the forest as she finished. “Dawn,” Aste said, “time to begin. The faeries say we are safe, no enemies near.” Dawn still looked pretty dark to her, perhaps because of the purplish hue of the light, which would take getting used to.
Aste rode off through the forest, leading the pack horse. Amanda followed next wearing an astonished look on her face as she stared at the trees. Mira and Dylan brought up the rear. She wondered if this could be what Aste meant about the land being alive. They rode past the burned tree that once held Aste’s home. It was the only tree burned even though it fell closely to two others, they were barely singed. The trunk had exploded with the heat and a hole still smoldered where it had stood yesterday.
She shuddered thinking they’d nearly been burned alive or worse.
“Bye bye,” said Dylan to the faeries.
As he spoke to them, the faeries whirled out of the tree they sat in and followed them through the forest. Every now and then, one of them would rest in a tree and she could see what it looked like sitting still. All different shapes and sizes. She’d never seen such a vast array of beings. Whoever thought all faeries looked like sweet young girls with wings about the size of a robin was so, so wrong. Some of these looked like demons, small and large. Some looked angelic. Some had rat faces combined with cow bodies. She saw kind, young faces and snake bodies. Each one seemed to be different from all the others. Then she wondered if faeries existed in her world, did they look like these or different?
Going deeper in the woods, she felt the temperature change. It grew cooler and damper, like the forests she knew that dripped with moss and were slightly moist all the time except for a month or two in late summer. She smelled clean earth, fresh and ripe, ready to grow and nurture life. It looked darker in the forest, but even here the light carried a plum tint to it. The tree canopy stood a couple hundred feet up. She couldn’t recognize the type of trees. Smaller plants grew among them, frilly ferns and sometimes tiny yellow flowers. Here and there one of the giant trees had fallen, creating a meadow filled with seedlings and glossy bushes using the dead tree as fertile ground. The light continued to be dim in the small, open meadows.
Mira caught glimpses of strange creatures, but they always fled before she could get a good look at any of them. There was a feeling to this forest that she had never encountered before. It buzzed with energy. Life surged everywhere.
After several hours they stopped to eat and stretch.
Amanda said, “My legs ache. What is this we’re eating?” She held up the bread, scowling as she looked at it. “Why can’t we have real food? These clothes are too scratchy. I want a shower.”
Mira tuned her out. Dylan stood eating his lunch, entranced by an insect on a log. Aste sat quietly on a boulder. Mira wandered away from them, walking among the trees while eating a sandwich, of she knew not what, although it was good. It tasted like chicken with goat cheese. She thought it probably contained meat from an animal not known in her world. Best to continue pretending it was chicken.
Walking past the horses grazing in the meadow, she patted the bay mare who raised her head, clearly enjoying being scratched beneath her mane. The horse felt sweaty from working and the horsey smell of her was won
derful. As she walked off, the mare returned to looking for sweet grass. Strangely, Mira could feel the stringy texture of the grass and the young, green taste of it. She turned back to look and marveled about sharing that sense with the mare. A fly landed on the bay’s rump and the horse swished her tail to get rid of it. Mira felt the tickling of the insect, the expectation of the bite, then the swing of the tail aimed exactly to swat the fly away. There was a rhythm to the eating, walking and swishing which Mira found hypnotic. The mare had her head down grazing, but watched Mira. Mira shook her head in wonder and walked towards the small stream that wove through the meadow.
She stood apart from the others, eyes closed, taking in the scents and sounds of the forest. The horses grazed, an occasional snort, mingled with head shaking and tail slapping, broke the constant chewing sounds.
The mystery sandwich’s flavor tingled in her mouth, tangy and rich at the same time. She inhaled the fresh, fragrant air and opened her eyes to watch bright yellow and green birds flitter between bushes while observing her. The short wildflowers looked so delicate. One had the shape of a white dragonfly frozen in time, another seemed like a red bat flying through the air. In the clearing a group of plants grew taller than her horse.
The scarlet and green leaves ended in huge, flaring purple flowers the size of a dinner platter. She watched as a bird landed on one of the flowers. The petals folded closed around the bird and she could see the shadow of the creature as it dropped down the throat of the stem. The bird fluttered against the inside of the plant, trying desperately to escape. Mira shivered and turned to go back to the others. She felt like the bird, being swallowed by this world and funneled down to an evil Queen who would digest her slowly and painfully.
Chapter 10 - Ronan
Ronan and his horse stood hidden among the pines near Aste’s home. They watched Mira set out with Aste, Mira’s twin and the little boy, Dylan. Seeing Amanda, he understood now what Aste meant by the right redhead. Surely, she did not mean he should be with Mira’s sister? It must have been a joke.
One could never tell with wise women like Aste. Their jokes were often subtle and double edged. All he knew was that Mira’s magic touched him while her sister repelled him.
He felt uneasy seeing the burned tree. The amount of magic Aste had used to shield the four of them as well as the horses almost overpowered him. What sort of trouble was Mira involved in? Only a bold enemy would have attacked someone as powerful as Aste.
He could smell Nakia’s hands here, but the reason she would do this did not come to him. She was quite mad, but her schemes carried logic, however twisted.
The faeries lit up the forest. He had never seen so many in his life. Aste must truly be an amazing Healer to attract such a farewell party. Mira and the others rode slowly, so he rode around them, staying off the road until well past their party. He wanted to get to the mountains and speak with the High dragon, then catch Mira and her friends before they crossed Fire Pass.
For most of the day Pinecone ran tirelessly. When they reached the peaks Ronan hid him in the canyon full of grass.
Ronan climbed onto the rocky outcrop. He called for the High Dragon then sat, waiting. The wind shifted around him. The early corn fields of Vactona burned to clear away the first of summer crops and he smelled the clean, fresh scent of lavender harvested in Creitu. The sky looked clear and the day felt warm and summer-like.
He contemplated Aste’s words and remembered the pooka’s ancient stories. Was Mira the outlander they spoke of?
He had met two outlanders in his travels, but neither turned out to be the one. The first, so ancient he died soon after arriving. The other was completely foolhardy and frivolous, his goal to travel to as many places as possible, skimming the surface instead of actually seeing. That man left to travel to another land soon after Ronan met him. If Mira was the one, then somehow she would shatter the Queen’s power and would open the way for his father to the throne.
The wind slapped his face as he pulled dried meat from his pack. The sweet taste of roasted deer brought with it the smell of smoke from the fire which had roasted it.
Did his father really want the throne? Roderick said several times he would like to refuse the Queen. He always seemed more interested in hunting, carousing or avoiding doing anything that seemed like work. Ronan had never really stopped to ask himself if his father would make a good king. The challenge had always been how to persuade the Queen to give up power.
Ronan wanted to have the authority to change things for the better, having heard so many songs and legends about the glorious past. He desperately wanted to undo some of the horror the Queen had created.
There seemed no end to her greed. The cream of all trade goods ended up at her court, although some spilled over into the city, to those she found deserving, while the outer provinces were taxed into starvation.
His people were not meant to settle in one place for too long. They were nomads and their world thrived when they traveled part of a turn. But the Queen had settled the majority of them near the Tower of the Black Opal.
The land could not sustain such a large static population. Nearby fields became tired, overgrazed and infertile. Disease overran food crops, animals and people. The River Angouleme ran brown with filth. Change was crucial to the people’s survival.
Violence grew in the smaller cities as the Queen’s armies took most of the wealth leaving people without enough to sustain them through the harsh seasons. They rebelled, turning on each other as often as on her army. Nakia’s answer to the problem seemed always to end in sending more soldiers.
The land needed a new ruler, one whose power rose clean and fresh. He would do whatever needed to be done to dethrone the Queen. Yet he knew his father would have little interest in changing anything.
Yet thoughts of Mira kept returning to his mind. Did he need to change his ambitions to get Mira into his life? Or perhaps his desire to help could no longer be ignored for his father’s desire for the throne. Maybe he needed to claim what he could do well. Aste’s riddle puzzled him, he hoped the necessary changes would become clear. His soul told him he needed her beside him.
A graceful shape swirled through the air. The dragon drifted downward to land. Ronan stood and steadied himself by holding onto a large boulder. Still the wind caused by the dragon’s huge wings made him stagger. He clung tightly to the rock to keep himself upright. Nerves tightened his throat. He had never met a powerful dragon before, let alone the High Dragon. Younglings were all he had any experience with. This truly was the High Dragon.
The dragon’s scales glimmered red, blue and green. Most had only one or two colors, gaining more colors with age and power.
He bowed. The dragon returned his bow.
“You asked to meet with me, Ronan of the Black Opal City.” The creature sat on its haunches and raised his right front arm, forming a circle with his thumb and forefinger.
“You are the High Dragon?” he asked, trying to get the dragon out of his formal tone.
“Yes, I am called Barinthus.”
The dragon was still using formal gestures. Ronan continued anyway, hoping to overcome the distance between them. “I speak for my father, Roderick. We have heard of a plot between the Queen and her Sorcerer to harm the dragons. My father is well aware that if war broke out between the dragons and the people of the Black Opal City, humans would be the losers.”
“He is her brother. Does he not represent the Queen?” asked Barinthus, cocking his head.
“No. He has come to ask the dragons for an alliance with him.”
“Would your father desire to wear the crown then?” asked Barinthus, cocking his head the other direction. Ronan remembered they did this sometimes to clear their ears after flying. The gesture might mean that. It could also be a punctuation to the conversation.
“I think he would rather anyone than the Queen Nakia wear it. The Opal will make the final choice, as always.” Ronan swirled his hand in the air to indicate that t
his was how it should be.
“Yes, Nakia’s time is over,” growled Barinthus
“Are you willing to ally with us?”
“What help does he ask from the dragons?”
“None yet, other than a willingness to talk and come to an agreement,” said Ronan.
“Does he have a plan to take over the rule of this land?”
“I believe he does.” Ronan could feel the dragon touching his mind, feeling his intentions. He did not resist that connection.
Barinthus nodded as he felt Ronan was being honest. “I must discuss this with the other dragons. When can you return here?”
“I will be back this way in two to three days.”
“That is soon. We do not rush such decisions. When we make a choice, I will find you,” said Barinthus, and flew off with an explosion of wind.
Ronan watched him spiral upwards. Barinthus looked truly majestic and Ronan felt a stab of envy for those lucky humans who had been bonded with dragons. That was before his time. Before the unicorn massacre. The dragons now forbade such a connection with humans.
He longed to bond with someone that deeply. Somehow, he did not think that if Mira came to love him they could ever be so closely bonded to be able to speak to each other’s minds. It happened rarely between humans, although it occurred often among pooka.
His parents had had such a bond. Ronan understood that Roderick had never recovered from his wife’s death. He lost himself in frivolities to ease the pain.
Ronan needed that strong connection and had dreamt of it all his life. Did it come from spending so much time as a pooka or had he spent so much time as a pooka in hopes of gaining something to make such a bond possible with a woman?
He sighed and descended, then called for Pinecone who seemed to have traveled farther down the valley. His connection with Pinecone felt different, not as deep and compelling as a true bonding. He couldn’t sense the horse’s thoughts and feelings when they were not together. Ronan whistled.
Pinecone returned and nuzzled him. Ronan hefted the saddle over the horse’s back. It was time to talk with Roderick about his father’s ambitions. A serious talk, which Roderick could not evade with jokes; to find out where he fit in if his father took the crown?
