Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One

by Akers, Tracy A.

  “Are you sure that is all that matters, Ruairi?”

  “Well…no…” His smile faltered. “I am not certain of anything at the moment.” He held up his hands and stared at them.

  “You poor boy,” the woman said, shaking her head sympathetically. “It is no wonder you are confused. It is not easy for one to accept coming to the After Realm, even when one sought to do so.”

  “The After Realm? You are mistaken. This is Tearia.”

  “Only in your mind. In the After Realm one’s reality can be anything one wants it to be. This is your reality, though it could be something else altogether if you wished it.”

  Ruairi caught her image in the mirror and regarded her with suspicion. He knew he was standing in his bed chamber, and it made him feel joyful, but murky images of the beforetime, as well as an overwhelming sense of urgency, concerned him.

  “How did I get here?” he asked.

  “How does anyone?” she replied.

  He spun to face her. “You mean I am dead?”

  “Your body, yes, but your spirit lives on here.”

  Ruairi shook his head furiously. “No, I am not supposed to be.”

  “Not supposed to be?”

  “I am not supposed to be dead! I am supposed to be in the Between Realm. I am supposed to meet with the gods and ask for the gift of knowledge. Then I am to go back to…to…somewhere. Someone is waiting for me there. Someone who needs to be healed.”

  “And who would that someone be?”

  “Who? I—I do not remember who, but…someone…” He flashed his eyes impatiently to hers. “Why am I here? Where are the gods? I have no time to answer all these questions! I must get back before—”

  “Before what?”

  “Before it is too late!”

  “What if it is already too late?”

  “It cannot be too late. Not yet. I have only just arrived. I am supposed to have more time.”

  “So many ‘supposed to’s. Why are you supposed to have more time, Ruairi? To do what? To heal someone whose name you do not even remember in a place that you describe as an unpleasant memory? What sense is there in that?”

  “I do not know what sense there is in it, but my heart tells me I am meant to do it.” Ruairi stormed over to her. “I am losing my patience, woman. Will you take me to the god who can give me the knowledge I need, or must I find him myself?”

  “Patience never was one of your virtues, Ruairi. Perhaps you could work on that while you are here. You will have plenty of time.” She chuckled at the crimson rushing to his cheeks. “Forgive me,” she said. “You asked me a question. Now, then, who was it again that you needed to heal?”

  “I told you—Kerrik!” Ruairi’s face brightened. “Yes…Kerrik. I have come to heal Kerrik!”

  “Why do you wish to heal this…Kerrik?”

  “You say the name as though he were a thing.”

  “Well, then, what is he?”

  “He is a boy.”

  “What sort of boy?”

  “He is just a boy. A boy who wants to be a warrior.”

  The old woman laughed merrily. “He sounds like any other boy to me. What makes this one worthy of being saved by the gods?”

  “Because he is special. He has a great spirit in him. He believes in things that others have given up on. Like the belief that the world can be healed, and that he will be the warrior to do it.”

  “Children are idealistic,” the woman said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Of course he believes those things.”

  “But he makes me want to believe those things, too. Kerrik told me everyone gets sad sometimes, yet I have never seen a moment’s sadness in him. He is a boy with a twisted foot, abandoned by his parents because of it. He does not have many of the things he deserves to have, but he is always with a smile, and is annoyingly determined that everyone else should, too. Kerrik asks to save the whole world. I only ask to save Kerrik.”

  The woman shook her head. “But if you return, you will find yourself back in the sorrows of your world. Back to those painful memories of which you do not wish to speak. Take a look around you, Ruairi.” She swept her arm toward the magnificent room. “This is everything you have longed for. You created this paradise yourself. Now it can be yours. Here you can learn all things, have all the knowledge you could ever want. Will you return to the confines of your body, or embrace the freedom of illumination?”

  Ruairi drank in the opulence of the room and the splendor of his clothes, delighting in the beauty of his hands and the peace within his once tormented soul. For a moment the overwhelming desire for it threatened to turn him from the task he had come to do. He shook his head determinedly. “I wish to save Kerrik.”

  “So you would give up eternal happiness in the place of your dreams to go back and save this child.”

  “Yes.”

  The woman walked slowly to him and cupped his chin in her hand. “Few before you have chosen to go back, though all came with every intention of doing so. Some of their reasons were not powerful enough. But yours is pure, my boy, and for that you shall receive what you have come for.”

  Ruairi breathed a great sigh, then eyed her with suspicion. “You still have not told me who you are.”

  “I am Agneis,” the woman said matter-of-factly.

  “Agneis? But, you do not…look…like…”

  “What you expected?” She laughed softly. “You have been sorely misled, my dear boy. It seems your priestess, as well as all those before her, claims to represent me when, in fact, she represents something far darker. But her time will come.” She studied his face for a moment. “Perhaps you will be the one to bring it to her.”

  Ruairi threw himself to his knees and bowed his head to the hem of her gown. “Forgive me, Goddess, for my insolence. I am not worthy of your kindness. Please—”

  “Rise, boy…rise. I require no groveling. I know your heart well enough. But if it gives you comfort, your insolence is forgiven.” She smiled and placed her hand on his head.

  Reiv rose and stood before her, a million questions flooding his mind. “Why has it always been that we worship you through the Priestess when she has loyalty to another?”

  “You will learn in time.”

  “In time…” he echoed softly. “Goddess, you said my body is dead, and it seems as if I have been here a very long time. How can I hope to return?”

  “Time in your world is a flicker on the sea of eternity. While it may seem to you that you have been here for a long while, it has only been a blink of an eye since the heart of your body stopped.” She moved toward the window and motioned him over. “Come, tell me what you see.”

  Ruairi walked over hesitantly and stood beside her to gaze out at the landscape. No longer did he see pastel hills and patterned fields; now he saw a vast meadow covered in a sea of white flowers and bright green grasses.

  “Why, it is a meadow of flowers,” he replied, his voice reflecting the happy surprise he felt at the sight of it.

  “What else?”

  “What else? There…a girl in a long dress…walking through the meadow, gathering flowers.” He leaned out the window and focused his gaze on the distant image of her. “Her hair is dark. She is very beautiful.”

  “Do you know her?”

  He swallowed hard and leaned back. “Yes, I know her.” He turned his eyes to Agneis. “Why is she here? Why have you brought her to this place? She is not dead…tell me she is not.”

  “No, she is an illusion,” Agneis replied.

  “Then you are trying to trick me into staying with the hope of her!”

  “No, Ruairi, you have come for knowledge and you shall receive it.”

  He refocused his attention on the meadow, then realized he was no longer standing at the window, but in the midst of an eternal sea of white petals and pastel grasses. The flowers around him danced to the rhythm of the breeze, and the sweet fragrance of the meadow ignited his senses. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the s
un, feeling the warmth of it caress his cheek like a mother to a child, a feeling he had so often longed for. This was truly paradise, not the stuffy confines of a princely room. He opened his eyes and his heart raced. The dark-haired girl was standing near, smiling at him. Her long black hair was plaited down her back, and she wore a dress of gold, the long full skirt of it covered with hundreds of tiny white flowers. She motioned him forward.

  “Alicine,” he whispered, and stepped toward her.

  She lifted the flowers in her hand and nodded her head to them. Ruairi studied them with curiosity, then moved his eyes to hers. His heart filled with longing, and he stepped closer to her, but a powerful sensation took sudden hold of him, jerking him back.

  A roar of voices struck his ears like thunder, and he looked to the sky that had turned dark and ominous. The ground trembled violently, threatening to send his legs out from under him. He reached out to Alicine, but she was gone, vanished into a vapor amongst a blurring image of wilting flowers. The once gentle breeze stilled. Petals curled into dark clumps as a blanket of heat descended upon them.

  The voices became deafening. Ruairi covered his ears with his palms, but it did little good. People surrounded him, running and screaming, pushing and shoving. Flames licked at their feet from fissures in the earth. Boulders rained from the sky in torrents of crushing weight. He fell to the ground, shaking so fiercely he felt sure his body would break into pieces. Then, through the roar, he heard a single voice, a familiar voice. He sat up and searched the blinding dust and clamoring crowd for a sign of someone he knew. But there was no one.

  He pushed to his knees and felt a stickiness beneath him. Lifting a hand, he stared at it with confusion. A dark, wet redness was painted upon it, the white creases of his palm standing out in stark contrast. He wiped it across his tunic and staggered to his feet.

  The sky turned from stormy black to hazy yellow. He knew he was standing in a field, but he could see little else through the mysterious fog. A breeze stirred the air, and sunlight spotted the landscape in patches of bright light. Ruairi recoiled at the sight before him. There were people as far as the eye could see, all lying motionless in the dirt.

  The pummeling sound of horses’ hooves redirected Ruairi’s attention. A rider could be seen galloping toward him, its image a black silhouette against the rising sun at its back. The black stallion stopped within feet of him and reared up as the dark figure mounted upon it raised a sword high into the air. It was the Lion!

  Ruairi staggered back, then turned and ran. But he had no idea where he was running to. The scenery shifted around him, changing from a field of yellow dust to that of blood red carnage. He tripped and sprawled across a body, the wide brown eyes of it staring back at him. He threw himself off and rolled onto his back. The rider barreled toward him, poised to attack. Ruairi threw out an arm and screamed in terror.

  From out of nowhere a shadowy form leapt between them, his blade aimed in the direction of the rider. But Ruairi could not identify his gallant defender, for the man’s back was to him. The rider shouted and kicked his heels into the horse’s ribs, sweeping the Lion downward. The stranger’s weapon met it with a loud clank of metal. The stallion reared, and the man on foot jumped to the side, barely escaping the reach of its thundering hooves. The swords met again and again, neither gaining ground, though the Lion had the clear advantage. The rider pulled back and steered his horse in a wide circle. The stranger slowly turned his face toward Ruairi, who gasped and called out a startled warning. But it was too late. The rider was upon his opponent in an instant, and the Lion’s gold was turned to red.

  A tumultuous but silent wind wrapped Ruairi’s body, twisting him in a cloud of confusion. The images of man and horse evaporated, only to be replaced by even more terrifying visions. He fell to the ground, shaking, and squeezed his eyes against the sting of dust and the flashes of knowledge penetrating his brain. A sob escaped his throat. This was not what he had asked for. These were not things he wished to know.

  “Agneis!” he cried. “Tell me they are illusions only.”

  “Illusions play on hopes and fears,” Agneis whispered into his mind. “These are visions, and come from a far deeper place.”

  “Are they the future? Can I change them?”

  “You can change only yourself, Ruairi. But first you must accept and understand your own heroic path. Only then can you inspire the changes in others that will lead to a brighter future.”

  All went quiet and still. Ruairi felt his body relax, even as his mind continued to churn. The ground beneath him became soft and cool. He opened his eyes, then sat up and scanned the landscape around him. A great valley stretched as far as he could see. Green and lush, it was surrounded by a circle of purple mountains tipped in sparkling white. It was like no place he had ever seen. Bright blue dragonflies darted around him, and birds flew overhead, but he could not hear the sound of them, only the rhythm of his heart, his own beating heart.

  “Reiv!” he heard a distant voice call. He stood and turned in a slow circle.

  “Reiv!” the voice shouted again.

  Then all went dark and Ruairi became aware of only the voice, his other senses extinguished. It was as though he were floating in a place devoid of light and smell and touch and taste. There was nothing else, only the voice. He felt confused by it, denying the name it spoke. But then he realized it was calling his name—Reiv. Yes, Reiv was his true name.

  “Reiv! Can you hear me? Come back…please…”

  He recognized the voice then. It was Dayn. Dayn was his cousin. Dayn was his friend. And he was calling him back.

  Reiv gasped as he opened his eyes to the fuzzy reality of the world. A great rush of air filled his lungs. He pushed out his chest, drinking in the exhilarating feel of it, then grabbed Dayn’s hand and looked desperately into his eyes. “You…are…here,” Reiv rasped.

  “Of course I’m here.” Dayn’s eyes glistened, then he burst into laughter. “Reiv, I swear I would kill you myself if I weren’t so glad to see you alive.”

  “Alicine’s flowers,” Reiv whispered. He squeezed Dayn’s hand. “For Kerrik.” Then he saw Alicine, her face leaned to his, tears tracing patterns down her cheeks. She fell across his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

  Reiv lifted an arm and draped it over her, then held her for a moment before his eyes drifted closed. His arm fell to his side as he floated toward a comfortable dream, but his breathing sounded steady, and his heart felt strong within his chest.

  “It’s truly a miracle!” Nannaven exclaimed, her hands clasped beneath her chin. She turned to the three Elders standing at her back, their mouths agape. “Go out and tell the people he has done it! Tell them the prince has transcended!”

  The men turned and scurried out, shouting the news, but their words were quickly drowned by a wave of celebration from the crowd.

  Nannaven turned her attention to Alicine. “What flowers does he speak of?”

  Alicine sat up and turned to face her. “The only flowers I know he could be speaking of were the ones I was picking the day he found us.”

  “What were they called?”

  “I don’t remember. They were white…very tiny…” Alicine’s voice trailed off as she attempted recollection.

  “They were like those on your Summer Maiden’s dress, remember?” Dayn said.

  “Yes, very much like those! You saw the dress, Nannaven. The one Brina brought from Reiv’s apartment. In Kirador we call them Daylies, but Reiv called them something else.”

  “Frusensias?” Nannaven asked.

  “Yes! Yes…Frusensias! That was what he called them,” Alicine said.

  Nannaven looked doubtful. “Frusensias have never held healing powers. The Tearians only use them for perfumes and scented oils. I don’t see how those could be the flowers he’s referring to.”

  “If they’re anything like Daylies,” Alicine said, “they may prove to strengthen the blood. Daylies have that property when mixed with certain he
rbs. The mixture doesn’t cure infection, but it can give a weak body strength to fight it, and it can increase the appetite and—”

  Nannaven rose. “Come with me and tell me what we must do to make this medicine you speak of.” Alicine jumped up and followed her out the door.

  “Reiv. Can you hear me? Are you awake?” Dayn said. He placed a hand on Reiv’s rising and falling chest.

  “There you go shouting again,” Reiv mumbled. His eyes fluttered open, the color of them clouded from the ordeal.

  Dayn grinned. “God, we thought you were dead.”

  “I was,” Reiv said.

  “What? No--surely not dead! It must have just seemed like it.”

  “Is Alicine with Nannaven? Have they gone to find the flowers? How is Kerrik? Has there been any change in him?”

  “Calm yourself. Kerrik’s the same as you last saw him, but he’s still alive; and yes, Alicine and Nannaven have gone to find the flowers and mix up a medicine. You were referring to the Frusensias, weren’t you? That’s what we took you to mean.”

  Reiv released a breath of relief. “Yes, Frusensias. Kerrik will be well now. Agneis told me.”

  “Agneis? The goddess Agneis? Reiv, are you certain? Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination from the drug or—”

  “It was no dream.”

  Dayn paused and examined Reiv’s face. It looked strained, but his tone was lucid and his words clearly spoken, void of hesitation or doubt. “Well, for someone who didn’t believe in prophecies…” Dayn said.

  Reiv smiled. “Now if you will quit talking and let me get some rest. I feel as though I have been to the tavern instead of the After Realm.” He closed his eyes and was instantly asleep.

  BACK TO ToC

  Chapter 16: Confessions

  The mixture of Frusensia and herbs did indeed prove to strengthen the blood, and after but a few forced doses, Kerrik’s color began to return and his breathing grew steady and strong. Reiv was led from the ceremonial hut within hours, feeling amazingly well for someone who had been poisoned. Many villagers converged upon him, begging him to heal them or a loved one. He turned them away politely and insisted he had not been given a healing gift such as that. Some were disgruntled, thinking him a fraud. But their minds were soon changed when it was discovered that one of the ingredients he had drunk was a particularly deadly toxin. The dosage would have been lethal to any ordinary person, and so the fact that Reiv had survived at all further proved the miracle of his transcension. The identity of the culprit who had switched the toxin with that intended for the potion remained a mystery; Jensa had gathered herbs from many people that day. But from that moment on it was clear a traitor was in their midst.