Legend of the Ravenstone (31 page)

The Priagent of Lornabaez vanished, reverting to his truest self—the Jornoan whose name was Odemir-Shiradoh. It was a name that had stained the tongues of his people, a name that carried a grudging, fearful respect. It was this name that cast him from their society, for
Shiradoh
, the spirit within, had granted him one unique and terrible ability. To usurp, to steal, to seize control and crush his victims’ free will so they were prisoners in their own bodies. They became his, first in body and later in spirit, when all hope of liberation had been extinguished. He was Odemir-Shiradoh—
The Devourer.

The Demon’s eyes grew wide as the Devourer seized control. Like a serpent exploring every niche and corner, the trespasser went where he pleased, saw and felt the boundaries of its innate gifts and power. But it was now trapped with the amassing energy—the welling that would destroy them both if not unleashed.

“Remove the shackles!”
the Priagent cried, his features strained as though they would break. His followers rushed to open the glove-like manacles and slip the spikes from the Demon’s hands. At once, there was destruction.

The clouds unleashed a mighty deluge that broke branches and forged small craters in the earth. Lightning sprang from the sky like clawed fingers, grasping at the Demon, enveloping it in jagged ribbons of white-hot illumination. The wind uprooted the nearest of small trees and sent the Priagent’s followers sprawling across the ravaged landscape. Thunder bellowed like a god, and the ground shook with trepidation.

Chaos reigned for an indeterminable fraction of time, and when the storm finally abated, the witnesses were slow to recover. Nesif was the first to the Priagent’s side. The ruler had been thrown from the eye of the storm and lay upon his back, drenched and muddy from the rain. He opened his eyes at Nesif’s voice.

“Incredible,”
the Priagent whispered, weakened from the experience.
“Next time, I will know. We learn from our mistakes.”

Nesif shook his head, staring in awe at the aftermath of the tempest.

“The others,”
the Priagent said.

“They seem to be all right, brother.”

“What of the Demon?”

The creature was slumped over, still held fast to the remains of the tree, which had been shattered and blackened by lightning.
“I do not know.”

“Leave me,”
the Priagent said.
“Make certain the creature is alive.”

Reluctantly Nesif did as asked. He lifted the Demon’s head, only to have it drop back again when he removed his hand. Blood had run in rivers from its nose, and its eyes were shut. Its heart, however, still shook its chest, and the ribs still rose and fell with each labored breath.

He reported back to the Priagent, and his brother smiled weakly.
“Good. See to it that the creature is cared for. We will take this time to recover, and then we will celebrate our success with a fine feast.”

“Success, brother?”
Nesif questioned, doubt heavy in his tone.

“You do not see it yet, but it is there.”
The Priagent gripped Nesif’s massive arm as he helped him sit.
“This is a great asset. Rest easy, Nesif. Our day is nigh.”

~*~

T
his can’t be right.
Kariayla tried to brush the remaining dirt from her attire, but Ruby had affixed herself to her arm. The imp gripped tighter at every sound, and Kariayla winced. “It’s all right,” she said, trying to sound calm when her own senses were racing. “This is Veloria—the Great Forest. Bill said this is a safe place.”

Except that it did not feel safe. And it was hardly the golden-boughed forest of glowing immortals that the wizard had said it would be. His exact words were, “Look for the big, bright tree, and someone should come to greet you.” There was no big, bright tree, and there was no one in sight.

Instead, Kariayla was surrounded by dark, towering trees, and shadows that shifted within shadows. The sunlight barely broke the canopy, and when it did, it was in scattered flecks upon the black earth—flecks that disappeared with passing clouds. Leaves rustled and stirred, and branches snapped without any breeze, though what had moved them remained unseen. The air here was cool and
old.
She was not sure how to describe it, for it was not the same kind of
old
that she had experienced in Belorn’s dusty library. It was as though she was breathing air that had been trapped within the trees since Secramore’s dawn, and it made her dizzy.

What was more, this forest did not have the scent of decay that was so familiar in other woodlands. The seasoned leaves upon the ground were absent, as were the crumbling logs dotted with fungi and blanketed by moss. Nothing here showed any sign of weathering, but all that she saw was big and very much alive. The air nearly vibrated around her, and was it too much to say that her skin tingled? She half-expected to place her hands upon the earth and feel a heartbeat.

The sheer enormity of the trees made her feel tiny—like some sort of insect pest invading a sacred territory. She did not belong here, and that feeling twisted and festered inside of her, making her nauseated with fear.
This isn’t right,
she thought again.
Bill, we’re lost.

“Let’s think logically,” she said aloud. “We want to be found, but no one knows we’re here. Do we sit and wait, or do we try to find someone...” Kariayla stood and slowly turned. Of course there were no paths to follow, no trace of civilization at all.
What would Hawkwing do?

She found she could not even think of a suitable answer. She drew a breath. “All right, Ruby. We are going to walk until we find someone.” Without any sense of direction, she chose randomly. “That way.” She started to walk, but the imp dragged her feet and would not let go of Kariayla’s hand.

“I can’t carry you like Jinx did. You either have to let go, or stop dragging your feet.”

Ruby stuck out her bottom lip but did not release her hand.

“Let’s go.” Their feet barely made a sound on the soft earth, but their breathing seemed overly loud by comparison. They paused often to listen to what seemed like whispers all around them, but the sounds were fleeting and indeterminate. If they were insects, then someone or something was studying them beneath an invisible jar. The shadows changed, and the hues of the forest deepened. Kariayla knew time was passing, but she did not feel weary. Perhaps it was because her senses remained on edge, and her heart started at every glimpse, sound, or motion.

“Maybe we have no reason to fear,” she said to Ruby, who was an attentive audience. “If the Ilangiel are benevolent spirits, then we should be at ease.” She held her head higher and straightened her back. She ignored the instincts that warned her to the contrary. She even began to sing.

The voices of my home.

Mountains, trees, sun rise and falling,

How long have I to roam?”

Ruby picked up her pace, heartened by the tune. She even gave Kariayla a smile, which strengthened the Nemelorean’s courage.

“I think of those I left behind me,

The ones who hold my heart.

I see their faces in my mind

Ever since we had to part.

One day when weary feet will fail,

And night will be my last

I’ll find the end to this long trail

And bury with me my past.”

“Not the most cheerful song,” Kariayla admitted, “but it was what I could remember.”

There was a loud crash behind them, and they froze for an instant before dashing behind a thick and tangled bush. Heart racing, Kariayla could not bring herself to peer back to where they had been. She could hear movement, loud breathing that was not her own, and then a snort.
Spirits protect us,
she begged, and fragments of a temple prayer repeated like a mantra inside her head. At last she found a small hole through the leaves and glimpsed a large, dark shape on four legs standing where they had been. It must have lifted its head, because for a second, there was the flash of yellow-green, glowing eyes.
Spirits protect us. Please protect us.

Kariayla swore it looked at her, saw beyond their cover and met her gaze. The dark shape took a step in their direction, and she could hear a change in its breathing.
It’s sniffing for us.
It took another step toward them and uttered a low growl that was unlike any animal she had ever heard. The foliage of their shrub rustled, and the snuffling was practically in her ears. She could smell it—a raw, potent odor that suffocated her for the eternity of these passing seconds.

Then there was another sound—one more distant—and the breathing ceased, the smell vanished.
Please let it be gone.
It growled again, but it was further from them, and then there was a terrible cry. Not a cry—a shriek—the sound of an animal in pain. Kariayla looked through the leaves and saw the dark shape looming above another creature—one that was thrashing upon the ground. The dark one bore down upon the other, and the struggle ensued—but not for long. The thrashing ceased, and the dark one began to feast.

Kariayla looked down to find Ruby trembling in terror. If they remained where they were, would the predator return? If they left, would it pursue them?
If the Spirits sent this distraction, then we should make use of it.
She tried to move, but her limbs were frozen. She drew a shallow breath and gestured for Ruby to go with her. She hoped the imp would understand.

It took every ounce of courage to retreat from the shrub, and when they did, they crept slowly and close to the ground, trying not to make a sound. Every step was agonizing, and Kariayla fought the temptation to look behind her. How far need they go before they were safe? Or was safety a delusion?

At last she did turn, but the creature was beyond sight.
Beyond
our
sight
, she thought. She caught the sound of running water and led Ruby to a stream that meandered like a strip of the night sky—dark and glittering—along the roots of the trees. Kariayla sat by the bank and buried her head in her hands. She did not cry, but Ruby hovered around her, trying to see beyond her fingers. “There is no plan,” she told the imp, her words soft and muffled. “We are at the mercy of the forest.”

She looked up and met Ruby’s gaze. “We’ll just keep walking, and when it gets dark, we will try to find a safe place to rest.” A glance at what she could see of the sky said they did not have long before that course of action. Ruby remained glued to her side as they followed the stream, and the farther they went, the more Kariayla felt they were being observed.

At some point, the shadows had descended enough that a strange phenomenon transpired around them. Fireflies of different colors appeared, but they did not behave like fireflies. They darted a little too quickly, with too much direction. Her fear forgotten, Ruby ogled at them, and she reached out to try and snatch one.

“Do you remember the last time that happened?” Kariayla warned her. “In the Plains of Delmadria?”

The imp immediately snatched back her hand and kept it at her side.

“I bet they are fairies,” she whispered. “And look!” Soft, pale blue light emitted from blossoms that had opened. A sweet fragrance wafted through the air, and the two companions drew nearer—unable to resist. The bloom resembled a lily, but with spidery anthers. A green-white moth larger than Kariayla’s hand hovered toward it, unmindful of the spectators. Its long tongue extended like a silver thread, probing the flower and detecting the sweet well of nectar at its center. When it had finished, it fluttered around their heads, as if investigating. Then it expanded to three times its size, slowly dissolving until its gossamer form had vanished completely. This had happened in the span of mere seconds, and Kariayla and Ruby had forgotten to breathe.

The foliage across from them rustled, and they started. Pale as the moon, a doe emerged, her large ears flicking in all directions. Her sky-blue eyes settled upon Kariayla and Ruby, and she lifted her pink nose to catch their scent. As if deciding the intruders presented no threat, the doe delicately stepped into view, studied them a bit more, snatched a blossom, and bounded away.

“Maybe we should stay here,” Kariayla said. One place was as good as another, and as of yet, no new threat had presented itself. Ruby did not object, and Kariayla set down their bag. She unpacked a small, rolled blanket and some bread and cheese William had given them. The costrel was full of sweet juice, and the two of them dined contentedly, though their eyes never ceased searching their surroundings. For what they could not see, there was a myriad of sound: soft trills and hums, quick chirrups and whistles—all of which seemed more curious than threatening. The two companions gradually relaxed, and their eyes grew heavy. Wrapped in the blanket, Kariayla at last drifted to sleep with Ruby by her side.

~*~

H
is words were soft and gentle, but they did not ease her. Rather, they slid beneath her skin and caused her flesh to prickle. Kariayla’s stomach knotted, and her back stiffened as the head priest approached. His expression held no menace, but there was an intense look about his eyes—eyes that studied her like a map, and he was plotting his course. Kariayla turned her own gaze to the floor as he came to stand beside her. He was close enough she could feel the heat of his body, smell the incense from the last ceremony over which he had presided.

“You seem concerned, child,” he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“The rain,” Kariayla managed. “I was praying to Eruane for rain.”

“The goddess does not seem to hear us,” he said, his regard upon the effigy in front of them. “I wonder sometimes if she listens at all to the cries of her people.”

Kariayla turned to him in surprise. “She is always present, sir. I can sense her. There must be a reason the rains haven’t come.”

“Perhaps,” he said lightly. “You have always had a special connection to Eruane. We have known this since you were very young. I have watched you grow.” His fingers moved gently back and forth across her shoulder. “Your talents have grown as you have matured into a beautiful young woman.”