Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (14 page)

“Look, he has slain a sea snail!” a voice
cried out amusedly. The crowd burst into laughter and gathered,
teasing and pointing, around the exhausted prince.

Reiv held the shell up and gazed at it. He
smiled. “Yes, I have indeed slain the snail, or so I shall when I
dig my knife into it.”

Some of the spectators appreciated his sense
of humor and slapped him on the back boisterously. “Job well done,
prince,” a man said. “Too bad it’s not Seirgotha.”

“Oh,” Reiv replied, “Seirgotha is quite dead,
I assure you.” He walked on as he said it, never skipping a
beat.

“Dead?” Gasps echoed throughout the mob that
followed him in mass.

“Of course,” Reiv said. “What did you think I
was doing out there all this time? Hunting for shells?” He flipped
the shell into the air and caught it back in his hand, a look of
smug satisfaction on his face.

“But where is the creature? Where is
Seirgotha?” shocked voices asked.

Reiv looked at them as though they were
insane. “Did you expect me to carry her in my pocket? If you want
her, you had best go get her.”

Several men turned and ran toward the water,
intent on seeing for themselves whether or not Reiv had indeed
slain the beast.

“Oh, and I would take some rope if I were
you,” Reiv called over his shoulder.

Reiv made his way through the crowd and
hustled up the path toward the hut. He would have run except he
could barely put one shaking foot in front of the other. He glanced
back, viewing the efforts of those trying to retrieve the great
snake. A line of men stood with rope in hand, ready to pull as soon
as they felt the signal in the water at the other end. But Reiv had
neither the time nor the desire to watch them drag the loathsome
creature to shore. He had seen enough of the vile thing to last a
lifetime.

He rushed through the beaded flap of the
doorway, smiling in spite of himself. He half expected to see
Kerrik up and alert, but he was sorely disappointed. Reiv’s arms
dropped to his side. “Has there been no change at all?” His eyes
darted back and forth between Jensa and Torin. He could tell from
their expressions that Kerrik was little better than when he had
left him.

Torin approached, his eyes wide with
anticipation. “Did you—did you do it?” he asked.

“It is done.” Reiv looked over at Kerrik. The
boy’s wounds were cleaned and bandaged, his ribs bound and his
fractured arm splinted, but his face was still deathly white.

Reiv’s voice rose in agitation. “Why is there
so little improvement? I thought once the beast was slain the sick
would be healed. Is that not what the legend said?”

Torin frowned and took Reiv’s limp hand in
his, then began to unwind the wet bindings from around the dirk and
the fingers that still clung to it. “Yes, but there’s more to it
than that.”

Reiv’s face fell. “More? Slaying a she-devil
is not enough? By the gods, what more do they want for the life of
one small boy?”

Torin remained silent as he continued to
unwrap the dirk. But for some reason Reiv’s fingers refused to be
released. “Tell me. What more must I do?” Reiv said.

“Perhaps we should wait until Nannaven
arrives,” Jensa said from Kerrik’s bedside.

“What does Nannaven have to do with it?” Reiv
asked. “If there is more for me to do, then tell me.”

Jensa stroked Kerrik’s cheek, then rose.
“There is a ritual that must be performed in order for you to
receive the gift, and even then you will receive it only if the
gods allow it.”

“Then let us get on with it,” Reiv said.

“It’s not so simple,” Torin said. “Only
Nannaven knows the full details of the ritual. It requires a
potion. The risk is too dangerous for you even to consider. For one
thing, if the creature you slew is not Seirgotha, you will not
survive the ritual.”

“And if it is?”

“If it is, the gods might still deny you.
Then—”

“Then I still might not survive?”

“Yes.” Torin took the dirk from Reiv’s
slackening grasp and laid it on the nearby table. Then he nodded
toward the shell still clutched in Reiv’s other hand. “The shell?”
he asked, clearly curious as to why someone who had battled a
she-devil would have taken the time to hunt a shell.

“Oh,” Reiv said, recalling it, “a gift for
Kerrik. It was the shell he was diving for when he disappeared. I
knew how much he wanted it.”

“He will be pleased,” Jensa said, turning her
head to hide new tears.

Reiv walked over to the cot and sat. He
placed the back of his hand on Kerrik’s clammy cheek, then tucked
the blanket beneath the boy’s chin. “Kerrik,” Reiv said, “Seirgotha
is dead. It is true. And it is all because of you. If you had not
found her this morning she would be out there still.” Reiv paused
and looked at the shell still cradled in his hand. “Here…here is
the shell…you know, the big one you spotted on the reef. You have
such an eye for them. I swear I would never have seen it had you
not told me where it was.”

He laid the shell at Kerrik’s side and placed
the boy’s unresponsive hand over it. He watched him closely, hoping
for the slightest sign the child had heard his encouraging words.
But there was nothing.

“How soon do you think it will be until
Nannaven arrives?” Reiv asked over his shoulder.

“It may be a while,” Torin said. “Surely you
don’t intend to—”

“Of course I intend to! What else can I do? I
have taken it this far. I have no choice but to finish the
task.”

“And what task would that be?” a voice asked.
Nannaven stepped through the doorway, Dayn and Alicine at her
back.

Reiv rose from the cot, hope coursing through
him.

“What task?” Nannaven repeated.

“Spirit Keeper,” Torin said, bowing slightly.
“Reiv has slain a great snake and thinks it is Seirgotha.”

“Seirgotha?” Nannaven exclaimed. Her eyes
darted to the bed where Kerrik lay. She rushed over to the
unconscious child. “The beast did this?”

“Yes,” Reiv said, stepping from the boy’s
bedside, “and I have slain it. Now I understand I must undergo some
sort of ritual to save him. Is this so?”

“So legend tells,” Nannaven said.

“Then let us get on with it,” Reiv said.

Nannaven looked at him, then at Kerrik.
“There are issues to be considered.”

“Yes, I know,” Reiv said impatiently, “but
there is no time to worry about them now. If I must undergo the
ritual then—”

“Reiv, you don’t understand what you are
proposing,” she said. “There’s too much risk involved. To transcend
to the gods is a task no mere mortal has ever undertaken
successfully. Only the Priestess has been known to do it. You could
be sacrificing your very life.”

“What do you mean, sacrificing his life?”
Dayn cried, taking a step forward.

“According to Shell Seeker legend,” Nannaven
explained, “the slayer of a devil such as Seirgotha can receive the
gift of knowledge if he transcends to the gods. This can only be
accomplished through a ritual whereby the slayer drinks a potion
that will take him to the Between Realm, that place between this
world and the next. There’s no guarantee the gods will accept him
or that they’ll allow him to return. And if they don’t—”

“If they don’t, what?” Alicine demanded.

“I die,” Reiv said. “But if I do not do this,
then I might as well be, for I would bear Kerrik’s death for the
rest of my life. This is my chance to save him.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in prophecies,”
Alicine said. “You said they were nothing more than superstitions.
Don’t you see? That’s what this is.”

“Perhaps,” Reiv said, “but do you also recall
that I said prophecies were for desperate people with no hope left?
Well, I am one of those people.”

“Kerrik would not want you to do this,”
Alicine said. “He would not want you to drink poison and risk your
life for some silly superstition.”

“Reiv,” Nannaven said, “whether it’s silly
superstition or true prophecy, are you so certain this is your part
to play in it? There are many who believe your role lies elsewhere.
That’s why we’re here now. Guards are seeking you in Pobu as we
speak. It’s only a matter of time before they learn of your
whereabouts. We were coming to warn you when we met Jensa’s
messenger on the road. That’s why we arrived so quickly; not only
because you sent for us, but because the King is looking for the
Unnamed One. He is looking for
you
.”

“How can anyone say for certain what role is
meant for whom?” Reiv said. “I do not believe I am the Unnamed One.
Is it possible that role is meant for another, that I am meant to
be Transcendor instead?”

Nannaven stared at him as though looking at
him for the first time. “Very well,” she said at last. “Prophecy or
not, what will be will be. Where is the creature?”

“On the beach.”

Nannaven turned to the others. “Torin…escort
Reiv to the Place of Observance, then you will need to gather some
men to watch the road. We don’t need any unexpected visitors during
the ritual, so we must make haste. Jensa…go to the beach and gather
some venom from the beast. The potion will require a touch of the
creature’s magic. Dayn and Alicine…you may stay and help me prepare
the potion.” She glanced at Kerrik and frowned. “The boy is waning.
The ritual must be performed soon if there is any hope for
him.”

Everyone went about their errands, leaving
Nannaven, Alicine, and Dayn in the hut to make preparations.

“Let me see now,” Nannaven muttered. “If I
remember correctly, I will need some dried ciralum, some milnwon,
and leaves of the pyrolagos—but only the red ones.”

“If you remember
correctly
?” Dayn
exclaimed.

Nannaven scowled. “We have not been allowed
to write things down for many years, so are now dependent on our
memories. It has been a long time since this ritual has been
attempted, but variations of the formula have been used for other
purposes. I’m confident of the measurements, but I’ll verify them
with the Elders to be certain.”

“But, Spirit Keeper,” Alicine said. “You said
pyrolagos. You know that’s—”

“I don’t have time to explain every
ingredient to you,” Nannaven said harshly. She rummaged about in
Jensa’s cabinet, pulling out a bottle and a tiny cloth bag drawn
together with string. “I’ll also need some boshini syrup and a bit
of myr. I don’t see those here.” She turned her head to Alicine.
“You’ll need to make inquiries in the village.”

Alicine looked startled. “But, some of those
are…Nannaven, those ingredients can’t be right.”

Nannaven walked over and took Alicine’s hands
in hers. “Listen, child, Reiv wants to do this. He knows the risk.
How do you think he’ll reach the Between Realm, with honey water?
This is the recipe given to us by the gods. If they see fit to send
him back, then it will be done. If not…” She shrugged and shook her
head. “It is likely Kerrik’s only hope. What would you have me do?
Deny Reiv a chance to save the boy? Deny Kerrik any chance at
all?”

“No,” Alicine said, pulling her hands from
Nannaven’s grasp. “But I don’t believe in things such as this. It’s
nonsense. This potion is not from any god, just as it’s not a god
that will choose whether or not Reiv lives. There’s only one God
and He would not approve of this. If Reiv dies, it will be by our
will, not that of any god.”

“Then you’ll not fetch the things I’ve asked
for?”

“No, I won’t do it!” Alicine spun and rushed
from the hut.

Jensa entered through the doorway, backing in
as she watched Alicine run in the other direction. The vial of
venom clutched in her hand shook within her grasp.

“You have it…good,” Nannaven said. “This
beast. Is it the one, do you think?”

“It can be no other,” Jensa said, her voice
barely a whisper.

Nannaven nodded, then took the vial. “There
are some ingredients we need to seek in the village. Alicine
doesn’t have the will to do it.”

“Can you blame her?” Dayn said, marching
toward her. “You’d feed Reiv poison and watch him die while you
proclaim it the will of your gods? This is nothing short of murder
and I can’t believe he’s going along with it. We’ll not be a part
of it, Nannaven. If Reiv dies it will be on your head!” He stormed
out in search of his sister.

****

The ritual was an ancient one that had been
tried numerous times over the generations by those seeking the
power of knowledge. But none had ever slain a beast so great as the
one now lying on the beach, and none had ever survived the ritual.
It was simple in its design, for all it required was a mixture of
herbs and a bit of venom from the serpent’s fang. Once it was
drunk, the person would hover in the realm between life and death,
awaiting the decision of the gods. If allowed to return, the
Transcendor would bring back great knowledge.

Word spread like wildfire throughout the
village that the prince was attempting the ritual, and all of
Meirla was now gathered before the Place of Observance. The beast
that had been killed was a wonder in itself, but it was the thing
Reiv was about to do that had the villagers in awe.

The Place of Observance was a large circular
building of palm fronds and reeds, carefully woven and tended by
the Elders of the village. It was there that the religious leaders
meditated, performed rituals, and taught their lessons. And it was
the only place considered sacred enough for one to Transcend.

As Reiv was led by Torin to the sacred place,
he glanced sideways at the villagers lining the pathway on either
side of him. Their expressions were nothing like those that had
greeted him when he first arrived weeks before. Now most stood with
heads bowed in reverence while the rest gaped at him in wide-eyed
wonder. A heavy blanket of silence left him feeling just as
uncomfortable as when he’d first arrived in Meirla. That day he had
been met by taunts and laughter. Now the only sounds he could hear
were the roar of the sea, the rustle of the fronds overhead, and
the hammering of his own heart.