The Raven Chronicles Ch. 06

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

ARIBI

DAYIEL

Dayiel trudged along the sandy road. It wasn't much of a road, just a slightly flatter place among dunes. Wind constantly blew loose sand across the track. Only regular caravans left signs of a route marking here to there.

With sunset close, the scorching afternoon temperature settled into a cooler range as the sands changed from golden to rose hues. Although, even in the hottest part of the day, he didn't sweat in his leathers and armor. His skin didn't burn. He didn't sleep, eat, or feel thirst. He walked day and night with no destination, just a direction. There was no logical reason. Just an absolute certainty that this way led to Azar.

Footsteps thundered behind him, and a man shouted, "Dayiel!"

He drew his sword and spun in one motion. Two lines seared down his back, one on either side of his spine. The strange, fiery phenomenon occured whenever he readied for a fight. A memory of an injury, maybe?

In the week since he'd left his home, holding the blade in his hand had become natural. His memories hadn't returned, even though his blinding headaches were growing worse and more frequent, but he could defend himself. That gave him hope he'd be able to fight for Azar when he found her.

The man running toward him was big. As tall as Dayiel's six-and-a-half foot height, but broader across the shoulders, and dark where Dayiel was fair-haired and light-eyed. The man's name escaped Dayiel, but he recognized him. He lived near Dayiel's old home, but was dressed all wrong. Instead of farmer's clothes, he wore black leather. A wide, curved sword hung at his hip.

He came to a stop in front of Dayiel. Out of breath, he braced his hands on his knees and squinted up at Dayiel. "You set a brisk pace, my friend. And no notice you were leaving! Some people might think you didn't want my company."

Did he want this man's company? "I know you."

"Yes, Dayiel. I'm Zrel." He spoke in the patient tone people used when they were explaining something they'd explained to him before. Standing, Zrel put his hands on his hips and twisted from side to side. "Do you remember?"

Dayiel nodded. Given the name, he recalled being told the same name before. "I saw you in the village. What are you doing here?"

"Oh." Zrel's shoulders sagged. "It's been a long time since I saw you dressed like..." He flapped a hand at Dayiel's armor "That. I thought you remembered, um, before."

"You knew me... before?" Maybe Zrel could help with his memory. At the thought of remembering, a spike of agony pierced his skull behind his left eye. Dayiel turned and walked rapidly. If he didn't think so much, the headache might go away.

Zrel jogged alongside him. "We've known each other longer than either of us cares to remember, even if you could remember. Which of course, you can't. We're friends."

Friends. Some people in the village weren't as judgmental, but he couldn't call them friends. Could he? Zrel hadn't moved to draw his sword.

Dayiel sheathed his blade as he walked in the direction that led to Azar.

Zrel kept pace. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I have to find Azar."

"Your daughter?" Zrel grabbed Dayiel's arm, bringing him to a halt. "What happened? There wasn't any news in the village."

Should he have told someone in the village? Dayiel stared between Zrel's hand and face. The man said they were friends. But was that true? If they were friends, why couldn't he remember him from before? And why hadn't they seen each other more? He didn't remember this man ever coming to his house. Or going to his. They'd never shared a drink or a meal.

But the man had traveled for a week to find him, and run all the way. Dayiel hadn't stopped to eat or sleep. If this man was a friend, what could it hurt to tell him? And if he wasn't, how could he make things worse? Azar was already kidnapped.

"The bird stole Azar."

"The... bird? What kind of bird?"

Dayiel nodded, eager to talk about something he remembered so clearly. "He was in the trees. Azar went to talk to the birds. Why must she always talk to the birds?"

"You know why she talks to the birds, Dayiel." Zrel spoke in a soft voice, like people did when they pitied him for his memory problems.

Did he know why Azar talked to the birds? Pain momentarily blinded him and threatened to take him under until he released that thought. It didn't matter anymore. He walked again. "The raven took her and flew away."

"Raven?" Zerel caught up, nodded like that was believable, and sounded relieved. "So, where are we going? Do you know who he is or where he took her?"

Dayiel came to a stop and turned to face Zrel. "Why are you here?"

"What? You don't think I'm going to let you have all the fun, do you? I'm coming with you. Friends don't let friends go to war alone."

He'd known he'd have to fight to save Azar. The raven had taken her. He wasn't likely to just give her back. "Is that what we're doing? Going to war?"

"If not to get your daughter back, we'll have to fight a war to get to her, if you're going where I think you're going."

"Where am I going?"

Zrel sighed. "It's a good thing I'd follow you into Hell, my friend, because that's where we're heading."

Hell. Images of flames and black-winged monsters flitted across his mind before bright, white pain took Dayiel to his knees. He wrenched his thoughts to Azar.

He had to find her. Save her from the birds.

His vision cleared, allowing him to stagger to his feet. Zrel held his arm until Dayiel steadied himself. He studied Zrel's dark eyes, trying to decide if he could be trusted.

"Do you know what I am? Why I can't remember? What causes my back to burn sometimes? How I know how to use a sword?"

Zrel blew out a breath. "Yes. But it might be better if you let your memories return on their own. Too big a shock might be... damaging."

Dayiel laughed and held out his arms. "I'm already damaged! Please. If we are friends, tell me of my past. I think it's better I know."

"I don't think this is the best time to talk." Zrel scanned the sky. "Never can tell who might be loitering."

Invisible people in the sky? Zrel might be crazy, too.

"I'm not losing my mind." Zrel shook a finger at Dayiel. "Look. There's one thing we can try, but you need to pause your journey to do it. It'll probably make you pass out, given what I just saw, and here in the open isn't the place for it." He sighed. "I promised her I would only do this as an absolute last resort."

"Promised who?"

"Adeen. I promised Adeen when the time came... If the time came, I would help you."

Dayiel's heart beat faster. "You knew Adeen... before?"

"Yes, Dayiel. I've known her as long as you have."

"Adeen died. I remember Adeen died." He would never forget that day of blood and ashes.

"Yeah, yeah." Zrel flapped his hand again. "I know what happened that day."

The words seemed odd. What happened. Not that Adeen died. "What do you know? Did she die? Was that real?"

"It was real, but not the whole truth."

How could something be real but not true? He needed answers. "Why didn't you help me before?"

Zrel's shoulders slumped. "If I help you, everything changes and there's no going back. You could have lost Azar."

"But now I've already lost Azar."

"Yes."

"And Adeen wanted you to help me."

"Yes."

He would do anything for Adeen. She'd never hurt him. If she trusted Zrel, he had to, even if he didn't remember him. "The next village. We'll stop there."

"You're sure?"

No. How could he be? "Yes."

Impatience made the trip seem even longer, even without stops, but mid-way through the next morning, an oasis village came into view. Brick buildings with roofs made of palm leaves curved halfway around a blue lake. Tall trees offered a bit of shade that unladen camels occupied.

Not the largest or most prosperous, but they'd have somewhere safe and private for whatever happened. The chance to restore his memories seemed too good to be true, but he couldn't wait to try.

Zrel bartered for meals and accommodation, turning over coins to use a house for a few days.

Coins! Dayiel berated himself. He should have brought coins, but he hadn't thought to. He knew he needed money. What had he done with his coins? They might be on the cart at home.

Maybe birds had taken them, too. Azar's ravens liked to steal shiny things.

"Come on, Dayiel." Zrel led the way through the marketplace. The aromas of spices competed with perfumes. Merchants offered bright silks and jewelry. "I've found a house we can use for a few days."

A few days? Uneasiness opened a pit in his stomach. Would he be helpless for so long? Could he trust Zrel? Would Azar get farther away? What about his headaches?

Zrel stopped at a variety of stalls to haggle for wine, bread, cheese, and fruit. "There'll be cooked meals delivered later, but we'll have to fend for ourselves now."

Dayiel ambled along behind his friend, unsure whether to mention he didn't feel hunger or thirst anymore. Purchases completed, Zrel made his way out of the busy part of the village into a quieter residential area. He stopped in front of a small house made of brick that looked like every other house.

"This is us." Zrel pushed the door open and entered.

The furnishings were simple, but appeared srurdy. The main area combined a cooking hearth, dining area, and common seating area comprised of cushions on the time floor. A room at the back was separated by hanging beads and contained two beds.

Dayiel sat on one of the beds and faced Zrel, who sat on the other. "What do I have to do?"

Zrel chuckled. "Right to it, then, I see. You're sure you want to do this? There's no going back."

"I have to. I have to save Azar. I have to remember before. Tell me what happened."

"Your memory is broken because you Fell."

"Fell." That didn't seem like it would cause such extensive memory loss. "Did I injure my head when I... fell?"

"Not that kind of fall." Zrel chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "You fell in!ove, then Fell to be with Adeen."

"Adeen died."

Zrel shook his head. "Adeen... you'll see when you remember. And since she was your anchor, your mind broke a bit more when you lost her, but you held it together for Azar. Adeen was proud of you."

"Azar still needs me." Dayiel glared at Zrel. "I need to remember. If I can't save her because my memories are fog and you could have helped me, I will no longer consider us friends."

That earned a grin. "You always were uppity." Zrel reached into a pocket and removed a vial. "Drink this."

Dayiel took the vial, opened it, and sniffed the contents. Nothing he could detect.

"It's water. From the river of memories. Adeen fought through several Underworlds to get the water in case you ever needed to remember. Your wife is one fierce woman."

"Adeen is dead."

"Drink, my friend. You won't believe me if I tell you. See for yourself."

Dayiel put the vial to his lips and downed the contents. White hot agony lanced through his head.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

ALBION

BRES

After several days to prepare for his journey, and waiting out unfavorable winds from a massive storm, Bres had finally set sail, but progress was slow -- if getting only as far as out of view of the island could be considered progress at all.

"Damn you, you stubborn ship." Bres ducked the swinging boom aimed at his head. It had only taken one smack from the wooden beam to alert him to that trick. He also had to maintain awareness of uncoiling ropes that turned into snares, loose decking that tripped him, and changes of direction that sent him staggering.

Anyone would think a Fomorian wasn't welcome aboard one of Merlin's ships. He adjusted the tiller to head north. The ship veered east, like it had been waiting for a chance to be contrary.

"No wonder ships are considered female."

All the sails went rigid and the ship came to a stop.

"Sorry," he mumbled insincerely, wrestling with the tiller again. The last thing he needed was to end up in the Queen of Winter's court.

Bres yanked on the tiller again. It jumped out of his hands and the ship turned east. "If you're taking me to Beria, no thank you." He had no desire to become one of her toys. She was as bad as Ymir.

He'd spent the days trapped ashore studying his maps. There were several routes he could take, all of them with different risks. Aribi lay to the east, on the far side of Africa.

The shortest distance would be to sail across the Mediterranean Sea. That route would carry him perilously close to several places not especially friendly to Fomorians -- mainly the Hellas and Aegyptus courts. It was unlikely he could pass the whirlpools, sirens, or the lighthouse that guarded the ocean.

His magic had mostly recovered over the last few years, but if he had to rely on it constantly, he could find himself drained, and helpless, at exactly the wrong time.

By far the safest route was to head south and circumnavigate the entire continent of Africa, not setting foot ashore at all, and maintaining his distance from all the courts. There were a few dangers, but if he skirted Atlantis, it should be simple enough to avoid the sea monsters any coastal courts could send after him. The Fomorians hadn't raided the distant courts enough to have created vendettas there.

It would also take the longest amount of time, and that was a luxury he didn't have. An inner clock had begun ticking the moment he first thought about leaving Morgan and Meghan behind. He wanted to be gone as short a time as possible, and live through the experience. He had children to return to. Or, he would.

Two routes led north. The shorter one threaded through the southern end of Ymir's territory, a hundred islands, and several courts before ending at Rus. Then the journey would be overland to the south.

His best bet was to head farther north, giving Ymir's Court a wide buffer to the west. That meant the risk of sailing into ice up north, having to travel near Louhi's domain, and possibly running into Koschei of the Rus Court.

Bres would rather face that crazy man than Ymir. Koschei was insane, but an ally of sorts, or at least not an outright enemy.

Of course, everything depended on getting the ship to do what he wanted in the first place. It hadn't come with instructions when he stole it.

"All right, Ship, we need to get to..." A crazy idea took hold. Could it be so easy? "Do you happen to know where any of the Inisfail treasures are?"

The ship waited, creaking as waves buffeted the hull.

Maybe it needed more specifics. "The spear, the stone, or the cauldron. Can you take me to the nearest one of them?" That would make his journey so much shorter, provided the relics hadn't gone far.

The ship did nothing.

"So, that's a no, huh?"

Great. He'd barely sailed out of sight of his island and he was already talking to himself.

With no warning, the ship took off, sending Bres sprawling as it sped east. Again. He picked himself up from the deck. "That's going to leave a mark."

He really didn't want to see the Queen of Winter. Although, it was possible she had one of the relics he'd asked about. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd taken a relic when she'd been banished from Inisfail.

When the coast came into view, the boat veered south -- Inisfail on the right, Alba on the left.

"Oh. Trying to go home, are you?" Wherever the ship was headed, it was going there in a hurry. The sails billowed and the landscape on the port side blurred too fast for him to spot landmarks. He moved to the front of the ship and held onto the railing with a death grip. If he wasn't in charge of where he was going, at least he could see what was coming for him.

Bres finally got his bearings when the end of the island came into view and the ship curved left. Another left sent the ship up a narrow river that ran inland, mostly north.

The vessel came to an abrupt halt that nearly sent Bres flying over the prow, despite his death grip. He made sure the anchor medallion remained tucked safely in his pocket. The ship could only move if the anchor was aboard, so at least it couldn't abandon him.

"Where have you brought me? Which relic is here?" Of course, there was no answer.

Bres leapt over the rail, boots splashing into ankle deep water, and waded ashore. On land, a pull northward urged him to continue in that direction.

He'd been to this part of the world before. A bit more than ten miles away, a vast magic reservoir called to all Other Worlders. Some legends said Merlin had constructed the colossal stone edifice in Inisfail and moved it here. Others said the stones had been there far longer than Merlin had been alive.

Either way, the standing stones were a focus for magic. It was a perfect hiding place for relics. The magic of the stones would overwhelm smaller energies, thus hiding the presence of anything not as powerful.

If he found one of the treasures so close to home, he could be back on the island tonight. Bres hurried toward Stonehenge, but kept a wary eye out. There was always someone, or something, lurking around places of power.

Ghostly shadows moved over the grassy plain and around the stones where humans wandered in and out of the thinner areas separating their world from his. In such basins of power, magic often leaked between places.

The human version of Stonehenge had been allowed to fall into ruin, but the monument he stood before was intact. Vertical columns thirteen feet high, topped by horizontal stones, formed an intact circle around an inner ring of smaller upright bluestones, that in turn stood around two sets of even smaller vertical stones, each capped by a horizontal lintel.

Summer solstice brought the height of power, but that was half a year away. Even so, magic flowed around Bres, seeping into him. He froze, worried his power hadn't been sufficiently restored. Places like this were dangerous for anyone as broken as he'd been. Magic didn't like being fragmented. More than one person had come here hoping to mend themselves, and been immolated instead.

Bres stood alone, except for a tawny cat so gigantic he lay sprawled across two of the warm horizontal stones in the sun. The creature didn't raise his head or open his eyes, but his long tail flicked.

Power radiated from the cat, although it was hard to tell how much was innate to the creature and what came from the stones.

Why had the ship brought him here? A spear or cauldron would stand out, but an extra stone wouldn't necessarily be out of place. With a wary eye on the sun-bathing beast, Bres walked around the largest ring.

The Stone of Destiny was only three feet high and rounded. He searched each ring for anything that felt off or out of place, then expanded the pattern to outside the monument.

The grassy plain wasn't completely flat. Small hills and dips made it more rolling than level. He climbed one hillock and reeled back a step before he fell into a pit. Pieces of rock littered the bottom. Some were the size of pebbles, but others were bigger -- up to a few feet long.

The Stone of Destiny could be here. He jumped into the hole and sorted through the chunks of rock.

"What are you doing?" a voice screeched.

A fairy.

Perfect.

Skin, hair, and eyes a greyish-blue that matched the hues of the grey sarsen and bluestones she fed on, she stood about two feet tall. Hands on the hips of her low-cut, full-skirted ball gown, she stared at him, unafraid even though he could squash her under his boot.

Maybe he should be the nervous one. Who knew how long she'd been absorbing the magic here? It was always a good rule not to piss off fairies anyway.

"I wanted to see if there was anything worth my time here." He gave a deprecating look around. "I don't think so."

She stomped one small, bare foot. "I have all the best rocks!"