A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  She could feel the panther’s presence as she sat cross-legged before the fire, but she let her mind drift, moving back along her own thread and finding what she needed among her memories.

  Radha had stood on their long terrace in the Jade Palace, her face raised to the sun as she chanted the words of an ancient prayer. The words were a blessing among her people, one that Jessa’s own mother had sung with reverence and worship in her youth, before she’d been stolen by Bharjah. It was a benediction for the Vhaelin and their many gifts, and though Radha’s voice was not of the sweet nature that her daughter’s had been, Jessa’s was more than up to the task.

  With the prayer clear in her mind and her course chosen, the Nightshade Lark found her place in the rhythms of the forest, and then she sang.

  The notes were smooth and clear, and Jessa let them find their proper weight before she released them, for she had not sung in earnest since before she had left Lyoness. She had sung softly to Darry within the maze, and several times as they lay in each other’s arms, but not as she did now, allowing the words their full due. Words of the sun and the grass beneath it. Words in praise of the rain that falls and the hawk that flies. Words for the rivers that flow, and the trees that sprawl through the earth. Jessa’s voice opened in all its strength and rose pure into the night.

  Her small fire reacted and the flames licked higher into the night, heavy and filled with their own voice as the wood moved and shifted within. Vhaelin Star lifted her head and moved a few steps closer with a shake of her mane. The long black hair fell along her face and down her powerful shoulders.

  The Vhaelin rushed through her blood and she felt the runes, her prayer becoming a layered vessel of notes. Notes that caught on the wind and traveled beyond her camp, drifting in the darkness of the Yellandale. The stream tumbled and churned with her song, and as she let the final notes sink softly in offering, she could hear the water responding. Jessa reached out upon the strength of her gods, though she did not have far to travel.

  The Nightshade Lark opened her eyes and looked beyond the flames.

  Darry stood in the farthest reaches of the light, her tunic undone down the center of her body. The sheen of her skin flared with orange and gold from the flames, and her trousers hung low upon her narrow hips, torn along her right leg. Her hair fell about her face in dark curls, golden one moment and black the next as the fire moved and the light shifted.

  “My mother told me a story once.” Darry’s voice was soothing in the darkness, and Jessa smiled. “Of a Shaman who tamed a wild bear instead of killing him, and he asked the bear to protect the children of his village.”

  Jessa set her right hand down and stood. She took a step, and then took it back as she remembered the last time she had approached her lover.

  “He played the lute until the bear came to him…And the bear offered him fish from the river and berries from the bushes beyond his winter cave, so he would keep playing.”

  Jessa was finding it hard to catch her breath. “Lee-Otis was his name.”

  Darry had moved closer. “Yes.”

  “The Shaman, I mean.” Jessa fought desperately for more words, but there was really only one. “Akasha.”

  “I am not a bear.”

  Jessa smiled at Darry’s statement and then licked her lips. She could taste Darry’s majik, and though it was vivid and wild beyond her most reckless dreams, it was no longer untamed. “No, you’re not.”

  Darry stood but a few feet away and Jessa could see the wounds on the right side of Darry’s face beneath the fall of her hair. Jessa’s heart caught at the gashes along Darry’s jaw and down her neck. Darry’s eyes were bright and filled with unexpected fear. “Are you afraid of me now?”

  Jessa’s arms were about Darry’s neck, though she did not remember moving. Darry’s arms were fierce about her ribs and Jessa turned her face, the smell of Darry’s hair and skin wild and strong like the forest around them. Jessa held on as tightly as she could, her relief beyond all measure. She was in the safest place she had ever known.

  The softness of Darry’s lips touched the edge of hers and Jessa leaned back. She took Darry’s face in her hands, and her touch was delicate as she pushed at Darry’s hair. There were three distinct lacerations, the skin about the wounds slightly swollen and hot. They looked clean though, and Jessa could smell the yarrow root. They would need stitches and Jessa felt a hard push of concern, for she had no idea what else there might be. She would need plantain root, which she had, for a tea and a paste. Perhaps you will not need stitches, my love. She let her touch settle upon the side of Darry’s neck.

  “I can’t control it.” Darry’s voice was rough, her eyes quiet in the firelight. “I’m sorry, Jessa. I’ve been trying.”

  “It’s all right, my love.” It was as she had thought, and Jessa felt certain now of the path her studies must take. “Hinsa has been sleeping for a very long time.” Her hand slipped down and landed upon Darry’s chest. “In here, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will not lie, Akasha…I know very little of Cha-Diah majik. But Radha’s scrolls contain many ancient spells, and they have been passed down for a thousand years. I will find something that will help, I know it. We shall find a balance.”

  Darry’s eyes brightened in the changing light and tears slid along her thick lashes before they fell. “She has words, Jess.”

  Jessa wiped gently at Darry’s cheek. “Who has words, my love?”

  “Hinsa,” Darry answered, her voice thick with emotion. Her shoulders trembled and Jessa stepped closer. “It was…” Darry lowered her face. “For the first time, I heard her speak.”

  Jessa’s eyes widened and her smile was instant. Jessa leaned under and kissed her with tenderness, drawing Darry’s face into the firelight once more. Jessa pushed Darry’s hair back before she turned in her arms.

  Hinsa moved from the darkness farther up the riverbank, and Vhaelin Star chuffed and shook her head, looking to the trees. Hinsa approached slowly and then sat down in the long grass. Her head and shoulders peeked above the swaying tips and she leaned her head forward, smelling the air.

  Darry leaned down a bit. “We have a gift for you.”

  Jessa was surprised by the words.

  “But you must come with me.”

  “A gift?”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Of course, Akasha, but should we not wait until morning? I have food and there is a warm fire. Come and sit with me.”

  “No,” Darry whispered. “This gift will not wait until morning. You’ve made a safe camp for the fire, and Hinsa will watch over Vhaelin Star.” Darry smiled a bit. “She likes her.”

  Jessa stepped back a little but she did not let go of her. “Then take me,” Jessa replied with confidence. She had no idea what sort of gift it might be, but the look of unspoiled pleasure in Darry’s eyes pleased her greatly. The expression deepened as Darry walked backward, her feet silent in the grass. She held Jessa’s hand and pulled her after.

  “You are going to walk into the stream,” Jessa warned. Her love was safe and relatively unharmed, and the wilderness around them was old and new at the same time. There was a rush of anticipation in her blood. Darry stepped forward quickly, and before Jessa could argue, she was swept up in Darry’s arms. She held on to Darry’s shoulders and tried not to laugh at the surprise of it all. “What are you doing?”

  Darry turned around as she carried her with ease. “Walking into the stream,” she answered and stepped without pause into the rush of water.

  Jessa smiled as she glanced down and saw the moonlight, and the stars, sparkle in the rush of the current. The crossing was quick, and when they were fully upon the opposite shore, Darry set her down, took her hand once more, and guided them toward the trees.

  “My love, where are you taking me?” Jessa asked in a whisper as they moved through the wild grass and undergrowth. They walked for a short time among spruce, sagging saplings, and wildflowers, and Jessa tr
ied to absorb the riot of life around her.

  There were birch trees ahead, and Jessa stopped when Darry did.

  “The birch tree grove, you must go there.” Darry looked down into Jessa’s eyes and her hair tumbled across her face, wild and free.

  Jessa’s brow rose in question. “Why?”

  Darry’s left hand was warm against Jessa’s face. “I love you, Jessa. I have killed for you, and I would die for you. Without a thought I will do whatever is needed to protect you from anything or anyone that might wish you harm.” Darry leaned down and kissed her, a truly splendid kiss that sent Jessa’s heartbeat into a faster cadence. The panther was everywhere and the taste of Darry’s mouth was exhilarating. Her words were even more so. “This moment is my gift to you…the only thing that might ever come close enough to showing you how I feel. The grove is a sacred place,” she explained, her lips still close. “You will feel it as you approach.”

  “But I do not worship Gamar. You should come with me.”

  Darry grinned in the darkness. “It is not Gamar who lives there, my sweet Lark. It is the Vhaelin, and they wait for you.”

  Jessa was startled by the words and she turned. The birches swayed slightly, and the grass that led to the grove shifted in an easy manner. “But I don’t…No, Akasha, I do not feel them.”

  “You will.” Darry’s hand moved in Jessa’s hair and reclaimed her attention. “I asked him to bless you, and he spoke your name.”

  Jessa stared long into Darry’s eyes.

  “In my head, I heard your name. He knows your name.”

  Jessa took a deep breath and considered what she’d been told. “Who, Akasha? Who has spoken my name?”

  “The totem of your gods.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jessa moved through the grass among the liana vines that grew up from the soil. Thin willow trees reached up and then showered back down in long, flowing tendrils beside saplings that bent and turned as they drew her forward. The birch trees stacked back, and she could see, even in the darkness, the flow of their line as they curved away upon each side. The leaves spoke gently and she listened, trying to decipher what they told her.

  It was not until she stopped at the edge of the birch trees that she felt it, and it pushed through her chest like a wave of heat from the sun. Her head tipped back and she closed her eyes beneath the touch of her gods.

  “You know where you are…”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “She looks different.”

  “Taller.”

  Jessa heard laughter in her head, playful and yet slightly discordant.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “She’s not afraid.”

  “She is.”

  “We heard you singing.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Come closer.”

  Jess let out a harsh breath and stumbled forward. She reached out for the nearest birch tree and used it to regain her balance, its bark bending beneath her hand. There were voices everywhere. They whispered in the veins of sap that ached and crawled through the trees, and the eager fingers of life that bloomed in the leaves and new branches. Stray words found their way into her thoughts as motes of dust and wayward leaves that drifted through the darkness.

  The voices were both male and female, and an odd mixture of both, a tenor that spoke of neither but, instead, something so otherworldly and filled with dreams, it had no voice but the one in her head.

  “The panther saved us.”

  “She did.”

  “The wolf was brave and strong. It is the way of things.”

  “The cat carries her prophecy well.”

  “She is unprepared.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I said she is. You must help her or we shall all be lost.”

  “Like before.”

  “Like before, yes.”

  “Terrible.”

  “It was terrible, yes.”

  “You need our—”

  “Stop,” Jessa said simply, her voice raw beneath the sovereignty they held. Her whole body shook with it, a pulsation that filled every aspect of her being and threatened to rip her apart. It was too much and she had no protection against it. She called on all of her strength and still it was not enough, and so she called on Darry. “Please, stop.”

  She felt Darry’s majik answer her call and race across the forest floor on subtle paws. She felt the power of the Cha-Diah support her weight, flesh and blood, muscle and bone. She felt their love, and it reached back through time, just as easily as it held power over the present.

  Jessa took stock of her body, the feel of her clothes suddenly rough against her skin. She could feel her hair move about her shoulders and tickle her face, a breeze of its own. She opened her eyes and looked through the trees.

  “Come closer.”

  “We would bless you.”

  “Yes, you will have need of it.”

  “She will.”

  “Come.”

  “Come to us—”

  “—let us give you a gift.”

  “And one for the panther, as well.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Earned in blood.”

  “Come to us.”

  Jessa let go of the birch tree and obeyed, her legs moving in a stilted manner as she fought to find the core of her strength, reaching for it, chasing it as she stepped through the last row of trees and entered the grove. The perfect circle of trees welcomed her, and she kept walking until she could take no more, and her eyes came up.

  The stag stood in the fall of moonlight, a magnificent and giant beast. The points of his antlers were too thick and vast to be counted, though Jessa thought there might hundreds. He was stunning, and she stumbled at the sight of him and fell to her knees. Her fingers closed in the earth and the coolness of the dirt rose about her fingers as she bowed her head.

  She had worshipped the Vhaelin from her first breath, she had always known it. She had felt them surround her and she had felt them abandon her. And yet always they had been there, the very essence of the world she moved through, as small as the smallest bird caught in a storm, and as brutal as the storm itself.

  Jessa’s body trembled as she wept, she couldn’t stop it.

  “Neela wept.”

  “Yes, those of your thread have wept before.”

  “What is her wish?”

  “Ask her.”

  “Speak your desire if you wish, or do not if you—”

  “Ah!”

  They laughed and Jessa smiled through her tears at the joyous, perfect song that it was.

  “Your heart is loud.”

  “It is not tired.”

  “Yes, it is certainly of use to you. We were not as cruel as you thought.”

  “No,” Jessa offered in penitence. “No, I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

  “You are free to doubt, you are—”

  “—always free.”

  “There is a wish there, I see it.”

  “Yes, we see it.”

  “I just…” Jessa’s voice failed her. What could she say that did not seem petty and small?

  “Look up, child!”

  The command rang through Jessa’s head and she let out a startled cry as she fell back upon her heels. The stag pushed forward with a powerful lunge, and Jessa’s right arm came up to shield herself. She stared into his endless brown eyes, where the stars wheeled and spun into the vast distance of the night sky and perhaps even eternity itself held sway.

  The stag leaned his head down and let out a scream, a mighty shudder moving along his neck and rolling through his shoulders. His body twisted to the side and then his hindquarters shook. A violent flash of light filled the grove, and Jessa turned away from it as she fell to the ground and tried to protect herself.

  Silence filled the grove as the light passed over her and beyond, and slowly, Jessa opened her eyes and pushed up from the ground. Her arms shook as she turned upon her hip, afraid and yet unwilling to keep her eyes closed ag
ainst what was to be the will of her gods.

  The stag stepped back from her, proud and tall, his shadowy coat no longer dense and shaggy, nor matted with scars. Instead, it was fresh and beautiful, a light brown that was clean with the softness of youthful splendor. He lifted his head with a muted bark, and his magnificent rack of antlers caught in the light before he dropped his head forward and shook it.

  The antlers of new bone growth trembled and fell free from his immense rack, clattering to the ground amidst a tumble of moss and ribbons of supple velvet hair. Beside them lay the dark coat that he had shed.

  “Gifts that are fit for a High Priestess.”

  “Should she survive the Blood Fires.”

  “We can hope.”

  “Yes, we will hope for wisdom.”

  “And strength.”

  “Tell the panther we thank—”

  “—her for the life of our talisman.”

  “Yes. Our old friend. He was tired.”

  “Our voice lives on.”

  “He loves her a little, now.”

  “He has kept the scars for her.”

  Jessa’s gaze lifted from the untold bounty of their gifts as the stag turned and walked away. Jessa saw the faded remains of his wounds, three deep scars that trailed along the sleek power of his hindquarters, only to disappear into the shadows beneath his tail. Wounds that were not so unlike those that now adorned the soft skin of Darry’s face. Wounds earned in a battle fought to save the talisman of her gods.

  “Akasha,” Jessa said in sudden understanding.

  “Yes, not her gods.”

  “She thought only—”

  “—of you.”

  “The Cha-Diah majik is—”