by Susan Faw
“Well, that is resolved then.” Avery swung back to the priest. “I still do not understand the reason you are here. Why are you not with the Flesh Clans? Are they not at war with the men of Cathair?”
Hototo shifted, eyes jumping from one to the other, and then his eyes focused on a spot over her shoulder. “Yes, they are. I had business to attend to elsewhere. I returned here,” he gestured at the cave, “to retrieve an object, just before warriors alerted me to your presence.”
The runes on Avery’s scalp danced as she shook her head, lips flattening in dissatisfaction at his answer. “You cannot touch the objects. What could you possibly have expected to recover?” Avery’s eyes shifted to the box in Achak’s hands and opened her mouth to speak once again when the light of the cave darkened as though a dark shelf cloud rolled overhead and the ever-present glow of the cave dimmed. Shadows formed in the rounded corners and the temperature dropped. Alarmed, Avery drew her knife just as a slimy hand clapped over her mouth from behind. Strong arms wrapped around her torso and she bucked angrily, fighting to free herself.
Achak found himself similarly restrained, as a pair of Charun slid from the shadows. Thick strands of black stretched like warm taffy to warp an underworld portal into the cave. The box tumbled from Achak’s grip and bounced away across the floor, falling clear of the leather bag.
Hototo bowed low to the Charun, backing away from of the spill of dark ooze that was the magical passage to the netherworld, as it spread slowly across the cave floor. He was afraid to touch the soul-sucking blackness. He bent and scooped up the bag as he backed away. Once he reached the doorway, he spun around and ran from the Charun, fleeing the cave, racing down the narrow passageway. He had his prize. He shook the bag as he ran. Out tumbled a straw doll. The last doll. He grinned then stuffed the bag back under his tunic.
Once clear of the passage he slowed to a walk. He had all the time in the world now. No need to hurry. The Charun had the fake High Priestess now. One problem solved. My mistress will be well pleased. I will be rewarded above all others. His cheeks creased into a fleshy grin.
Chapter 31
Mordecai’s Plan
MORDECAI WAS A PRACTICAL WIZARD. He was also a patient one, and prided himself on his ability to wait out any problem. Often a solution would present itself without having to actually formulate a plan.
So, when he spied Ziona and Cayden riding out of the legion’s camp spread out in the valley below him, he was only mildly surprised at the turn of events. He stepped out from behind the big tree he had been hiding behind, observing the comings and goings of the camp, and hollered down to them, waving his arms in the air to attract their attention. His sleeves flapped like the wings of a bird, his grey wizard robes shot with silver thread sparkling in the sunshine.
Ziona spied him first, and tapping Cayden on the arm, pointed up the hill to Mordecai. She reined her horse in his direction, trotting up to his location with Cayden on her heels. As they approached, Cayden swayed in his saddle, slipping sideways as though drunk.
Mordecai frowned and grabbed hold of the bridle, halting the horse as it moved past him. Cayden patted the horse’s neck and grinned at Mordecai. “Alcina freed us with a pardon. Wasn’t that kind of her?” Ziona frowned back at him, twisting in her saddle.
“Kind? Alcina is never kind.” Ziona grimaced. “Focus, Cayden. Fight the doll.” She had grown more alarmed the further they had ridden from the legion camp. While they were free, Cayden was obviously not. Strange phrases and thoughts spoken aloud that would never have come from him normally proved that Alcina still controlled his mind. I do not know what to do about it. While I am with him, I can monitor his activities, but what do I do if she takes him over? What is Alcina’s plan? Mordecai’s face echoed the expression on hers, as he frowned at the young king. “She did release us with a pardon, however,” she said.
“A pardon, you say? A pardon. I have never heard of Alcina granting pardons, unless they were posthumously. You both look to be alive. So, the only conclusion, my boy, is that she did not pardon you. But now is not the time for that discussion. You are free and away from her camp and that is what matters, for now.”
“How did you know we were being freed?” asked Ziona.
“I had no idea.”
“So why are you here? Surely you were not intending to come rescue us alone?” Her eyes searched the trees but located no one else with Mordecai.
“I am quite alone, Ziona. I am not powerless, you know. Sometimes one can do what an army cannot, especially when stealth is required. I came to recover the doll, not to free you two.” He waved a bony hand at the pair of them.
Cayden snorted, glaring at the wizard. “I suppose you brought the stone too? Fat lot of good it did.”
“Actually, it did a lot of good, Cayden. It has led me directly to you.”
“Anyone could follow the trampling of two thousand legionnaires. That did not require the stone.”
“No, but it still points to you and only to you.”
Cayden shrugged, unimpressed.
Mordecai ignored Cayden’s grousing. “Ziona, I want you to join up with Avery. Can you still find her?”
Ziona nodded. “She is not far away.”
“I thought so. A day’s ride at most I would say. Go now.” Mordecai’s attention swung back to the legion camp. “I am going after that doll.”
“The odds of you being successful are low,” Ziona muttered. “She keeps it with her at all times. She never puts it down. And there are at least two dolls, not one.”
“She will have them together and on her person. No matter. I will figure out a way to recover them.”
Ziona gathered up her reins, and her head swiveled in Avery’s direction. Her sense was vague, but then Cayden spoke up. “I can ask her where she is.”
He closed his eyes and reached out to his sister, mind to mind. Avery, I am coming to you. Can you show me where you are?
He felt her touch his mind. Into his vision swam an image of a narrow trail with tall mountains and around and in the distance, a smoking summit. “She is in the Highland Needle, near the Thunder Falls.”
“Then let’s go. Good luck, Mordecai. Be careful. Be very careful.”
“You forget that I have been a guest of Alcina’s in the past. I do not fear her. But I also do not underestimate her desire for revenge. I have no intention of falling into her clutches again.”
Ziona smiled and, with a slap of the reins, set off, Cayden at her side. Mordecai watched them until they were swallowed by the trees, and then his attention shifted back to the encampment.
He would wait till nightfall and then slip in at the perimeter where the guard was thinnest. They patrolled the edge of the camp but did not venture any further than a couple spans from the set perimeter, and always patrolled as a pair. One hundred paces, square the sword, bow, pivot, one hundred paces back. But in that time when they bowed, there was a point when all eyes were pointing at the ground. That was his window.
Mordecai settled down under the tree, pulling a couple apples from his pocket. He shined one on his robes then took a big juicy bite. Nothing to do but to wait till dark. Wait and observe.
***
Cayden took the lead as the terrain became rockier and the trail less sure. Birds twittered and cawed and occasionally a squirrel chittered at them as they passed, scolding them for disturbing the quiet of their forest dwelling. Ziona relaxed as they rode. The further away from the camp they travelled and the deeper into Primordial lands, the more relaxed she became. By midday, the trees changed to evergreens, the leafy deciduous of the lower foothills thinning as the soil turned poor.
“Soon we will be entering the Sacred Lands. Here the magic of the mountain will take over, and the guardians who walk it allow only the worthy to pass.” Her eyes darted in his direction. “I believe your father tried to enter with the Kingsmen, back before you were born. They were turned away. Sometimes it is done gently. Sometimes it is deadly. It depends
on the perceived threat. But you”—she looked at him fully this time—“are a god. I have no fear that they will let you pass.”
Cayden yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was having difficulty focusing on her words.
“Cayden, are you all right?”
“Yes, but the doll is still working on me. She may have shelved it, but I think she takes it out to play with it like a child. I think she can’t resist. I need rest.” Another yawn cracked his jaw. “Where do you suggest we bed down for the night?” He blushed when he realized what he had said.
Ziona grinned at him. “So eager! Don’t worry. I have a place in mind.”
Several hours later, at the edge of the Sacred Forest, Ziona led them to a clearing containing a small pond. Sunlight sparkled on its surface and bugs skimmed across the surface. Every once in a while, a fish would jump out of the water and snap at an insect, then fall back with a splash. A third of the circumference of the pond was edged with a tangle of raspberry bushes, the branches bending low under the weight of ripe berries.
Ziona dismounted with Cayden, and they hobbled the horses then pulled off their saddles. Retrieving their bedrolls, they made a rough camp. Ziona knelt by the water’s edge and gave a blessing to the waters, asking for them to share their bounty. She placed a hand in the water and caught a fat trout with her bare hand, tossing it up on the shore where it flopped and flailed.
Ten minutes later, the trout was grilling over an open fire and they gathered berries to complete their impromptu feast. Before the sun was fully set, they snuggled in each other’s arms. Ziona smoothed Cayden’s brow with tiny kisses that trailed down the side of his cheek. Cayden gasped and rolled Ziona onto her back, as his hunger for her ignited into a more robust version of her kisses. The stress of the day vanished, and passion flared white hot as they fell under the spell of their love.
***
In a camp, a long way away, Alcina grinned as she stroked her doll. She ran her finger down the side of the doll’s neck and could feel the doll trembling in her hand in response. What a wicked boy you are, Cayden! Who knew such passion ran through your veins? Maybe I should keep you for myself.
The bond was just as strong as it had been when he was in the camp. Alcina was pleased with the total control she still had over him, at any distance.
Now, lead me to your sister, like a good soul slave.
Chapter 32
Brimstone
A MIST DESCENDED INTO THE CLEARING, shrouding the pond and creeping across the ground. Fingers of fog ghosted the trees, wrapping around limbs and clouding the space between trunks. The mist cast a bluish hue in the rays of a nearly full moon, filtered and weakened by its passage through the mist overhead.
Cayden rolled over in his sleep, twisted up in the blanket he shared with Ziona, and his face smacked up against a soft muzzle that snuffled and snorted, ruffling his hair.
The horses…have wandered over, he thought in a sleep-drugged stupor. He pushed the muzzle away. The horse snuffled him again then took the blanket in its teeth and tugged it off.
With a shiver, Cayden woke, as the cold vapour touched his exposed skin. Cayden’s eyes popped open, and he sucked in a surprised breath. It was not the horses.
Slowly he sat up and the creature stepped back, eyeing him steadily with pitch black eyes that shone in the filtered moonlight. A mane of thickest black curls flowed from sharply pointed ears. Cayden’s eyes slowly followed the flow of its neck to its body, from which sprouted long, feathered wings tipped in white. The Pegasus snorted once again. As Cayden rose to his feet, it nudged him hard in the chest with its velvety nose. Cayden stroked the muzzle, hand curving around his lower jaw.
“Brimstone!” he breathed, knowing the name to be right, running his hand down Brimstone’s sleek neck.
A hidden lever in his mind clicked, and with it, a rush of memory assailed him. Eons of memory of ages past flooded his mind, and he cried out under the crushing weight of the images flowing through his mortal brain. He sank to his knees, clutching at his head. This pain was not like the doll, which was external. This pain was the pain of memory, the pain of loss and remembrance. Tears streamed down his face, and Brimstone snuffled him once again, smearing the tears with his nose.
Ziona sat up abruptly, woken by the sound of Cayden’s sobs. Her training kicked in, and knives appeared in hand as though she had slept clutching them. She sprang to her feet, then paused at the sight of Cayden and Brimstone. “Oh, Cayden!” Seeing his distress, the knives disappeared, and she knelt beside him, putting her arms around him to hug him. “Shhh,” she mouthed. “It’s OK. I know it hurts.”
As she rocked him, she examined the Pegasus. She had never seen one, but the ancient texts spoke of the Pegasuses that the godlings had ridden. They had disappeared with the godlings themselves. No one knew why, but she suspected they were tied to the gods in some way.
Cayden calmed and wiped his sleeve against his eyes, drying them.
“I remember,” he boomed, then paused, startled at the sound of his voice. The voice was of a distant Cayden, the voice of a godling. Ziona’s eyes widened and she backed away in surprise. “I’m sorry, Ziona. Don’t be afraid.” He stood up, rubbing a hand across his temple and then strode over to the Pegasus who tossed his head, nostrils flaring and flapping his silky, ebony wings.
“Hello, Brimstone, my old friend. Thank you for the gift of my memory.”
Brimstone bowed to him.
“Brimstone has returned my memory,” Cayden said in his normal voice. “All of it.” His gaze swept around the clearing. With eyes suddenly ancient, he focused on her still form. “I remember everything, Ziona.” He reached out a hand to her, and hesitantly she took it.
“Mordecai said this day would come. Brimstone carried the key to my memory block. He was waiting for me to come to him in the Sacred Forest to be reunited with him.”
Cayden stroked the sleek neck. “Where are Moonbeam and Sandstorm?” he asked Brimstone.
Brimstone shook his head, tossing his mane, and then whinnied and from the mist two more Pegasuses approached. Cayden smiled at them, greeting each of them in turn as they crowded in. “Moonbeam was Alfreda’s—Avery’s—and Sandstorm was Artio’s. Although at the time of the cataclysm, they were with me. They were a gift from our father…” He trailed off, exploring the memory. When his eyes refocused, Ziona was on her knees again before him.
“Ziona, I thought we had settled this. Do not kneel before me.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet.
“You are a child of the gods. I am mortal kind. I must worship you.” She kept her face downcast.
“No, you are my soul mate now. You will not bow to me. Worship the gods, but not me.”
He raised her chin with a finger, and Brimstone crowded in to nuzzle her cheek. She laughed and stroked his soft muzzle. The other two, not to be outdone, shoved their noses in for pats, trampling their blankets in the process.
Cayden and Ziona both laughed, and the laugh was echoed by fairies that flashed out of the reeds at the edge of the pond and flashed around them, jewel-coloured and chuckling with a tinkling sound as they flitted above them.
“Caerwyn! Caerwyn!” they called, their tiny voices the peeping of baby birds.
Cayden reached up, and a turquoise fairy with snow-white hair lit on his finger. “Aossi said you would come soon,” she pipped, her iridescent wings sparkling in the moonlight.
Delighted, Ziona said, “Do you have a name? I am so happy to meet you!”
“Laila,” she squeaked.
“Laila, Laila, Laila,” the other fairies tinkled.
Brimstone tossed his head, and the fairies scattered, bringing attention back to him. He nudged Cayden with his shoulder.
“I think he wants you to go for a ride,” said Ziona. Brimstone snorted agreement.
“Oh! Well…” Unsure, Cayden patted Brimstone on his shoulder, and Brimstone sank down on his forelegs, making it easier for Cayden to mount. With a shrug, Cayden swun
g a leg over onto Brimstone’s back, just behind the withers where jutted the massive wings, and tucked his knees under the huge muscles. He then twisted his hands in the thick black mane. Brimstone stood up and within a couple of strides launched him skyward. Cayden yelled as he cleared the trees, the beats of the wings stirring their leaves. Sleepy birds twitted angrily. Then Cayden was above the trees, above the mist, and soaring in the pure light of the moon.
The ground below sank away as the Pegasus flew. There was only the sky and the moon. If it were not for the cold night air streaming past his face or the heavy beat of Brimstone’s wings, Cayden would have thought they were standing still. The peace of the flight helped him sort through the tumbling images in his head. He took a deep breath, settling himself, sorting and filing the information. I am transformed. I finally remember who I am.
It was not as comforting as he had thought it would be before he knew. With the return of his memory also came the return of the worries of the world, a return of ancient anxieties and problems. While it cleared his focus, it also complicated his path. With a sigh, he patted Brimstone on the neck. “We need to go back down, Brimstone, and rejoin Ziona. Can you find her?” Brimstone twisted his neck, and a snort of disgust issued from his throat. Cayden smiled. “That’s my boy.”
Brimstone banked and sank back into the mists, touching down with a lightness that disturbed nothing on the ground. He trotted back to Ziona, who was stroking the other Pegasuses and feeding them leftover raspberries from the palm of her hand. She looked up as they approached, a huge grin of pleasure on her face. Her eyes sparkled.
