The Realms of Animar (29 page)

Airulli leaned forward. “And this boy, same age as Merik I suppose?”

“No actually,” Trussil replied with a glare. “He is quite a bit older. Old enough to fend for himself if he was forced to. I’m shocked you actually remembered his name.”

The bitterness in Trussil’s voice was accompanied by a tidal wave of memories that descended upon her at once.

Years ago, back when Trussil still loved Ovion and her place in society was secure, the day finally arrived when Alexandra Trussil turned twenty and was at last able to choose a profession of her own. Like most Avians, she had considered this carefully for some time, eagerly anticipating the freedom that came along with a dedicated trade. With remarkable eagerness, Trussil quickly elected to become a teacher. It was an easy choice. Having a natural love for children she had wanted to teach for as long as she could remember.

As was that of any new teacher or any new laborer learning a new skill, her first class was difficult and tested her patience regularly. She lied awake many nights pondering how best to communicate with her students effectively, relate to them without losing their respect and help their young minds grow strong. Despite her initial difficulties, Trussil adapted and honed her skills quickly. Her love for her students was apparent and word quickly spread throughout Ovion that she was a natural and her students adored her.

Naturally there were some children she favored more than others and there was one such boy, a small wisp of a thing named Merik, whom she took a special interest in right away. From a large family of hawks, at just over eleven years old Merik was the youngest and smallest of them all. Although his species was known for its strength and hunting prowess, he was thin and frail with a ratty tuft of reddish hair atop his head and an assortment of freckles scattered about his face. Dubbed a weakling by his peers, he was often picked on and made fun of by the other children and even his own family. The boy simply laughed them off, his nature was such that all things were amusing. Jokes flowed from his lips with the skill of a master storyteller but Trussil knew that the boy used his charming personality to mask the pain of rejection that dwelled within him.

One day Merik arrived at school with his right arm wrapped in a sling that was draped around his shoulder. His face was bruised and it was obvious that he had taken a nasty fall. Although Trussil suspected there was more to the accident then Merik would divulge, the boy insisted that he was merely attempting to fly when one of his brothers had accidentally bumped into him and sent him crashing into a tree.

As the days passed it became obvious that the arm was not healing well. Already lacking in strength, the injury had left Merik incapable of flying, a devastating limitation with consequences known to all, including the boy and his teacher.

In the weeks that followed, as is customary for those who cannot meet the standards of society, the boy was banished from his home. At eleven years old he was asked to fend for himself. Since he could not fly, this meant begging for food from friends, relatives and strangers, who all knew that he was labeled an outcast and not fit for their precious eyes. He was turned away, ignored and dismissed by all but one person, Trussil.

Violating the rules of their society, she allowed Merik to stay with her. Because she lived alone and had no children of her own, this seemed like a reasonable request. Although there were some adjustments to make, the first few days together went well and, apart from the occasional glances from disapproving neighbors, Trussil began to form a strong bond with the boy. She hoped that in time he would be accepted by the others once again.

Her hopes were dashed one morning when she was awakened by a large collection of people, including several armed guards, their leaders Airulli and Illuria and even the boy’s family. Unhappy about the violation of the standards of their society, the group demanded that the boy be removed from her home immediately. Through tears Trussil argued and fought their request but her cries fell on ears of those with hearts blackened by tradition.

The dispute was instantly silenced as Merik slowly walked out of an adjoining room, his hair disheveled and still wearing his sleep clothes. Expressionless, he approached Trussil and glanced up at her briefly before walking past the group and out the door into the waiting morning. No words needed to be spoken. He had heard enough.

As they watched him leave all but Trussil were satisfied that the right thing had been done. They expected the boy would now find his way to the forest floor and live out his days on his own, as all other outcasts had been required to do before.

To their surprise he stopped near the walkway that led from the platform on which the house stood and, without looking back, leapt silently to his death, without so much as a scream to mark his descent. Trussil was alone in her cries of despair and moments later she left Ovion, swearing never to return. No matter what.

Illuria sighed and looked at Trussil, “You should know that day was tragic to us as well. We went looking for his body but it had already been snatched up by the scavengers below. It was very sad but he was not fit for society. We have our rules.”

Trussil rolled her eyes. “Some things never change. I don’t know why I expected anything more.”

“Listen,” Airulli said. “There are rules that we all live by, perhaps some that need to be revisited, but nonetheless these rules have shaped our population for as long as we have been here. One of those involves not interfering with the lives of the other realms. The repercussions could be catastrophic. It seems war is becoming commonplace, we need to stay out of it as long as possible.”

Trussil shook her head, “I’m not surprised Air. Your people have a history of not standing up for what is right.” She paused a moment and then decided it was time to play her best hand. “Tell me, how long has it been since The Farseer…disappeared.”

Airulli glanced briefly at his sister then replied, “Dis-appeared is an interesting word for it. It’s been almost a year now. How did you hear about that?”

“Despite what you might believe I still have friends in your world. Word of his demise spread quickly. He was a great man, revered by so many.” Trussil squinted and tilted her head a bit, “You really don’t know what happened to him do you?”

Illuria was clearly upset. “He was old Trussil. Flying had become difficult for him. He likely just wandered off on his own or fell off a platform. Why would you bring up the death of our father now?”

“Because I believe that he was taken by the very man who intends to attack our people. The carnivores have a person they refer to as an oracle, supposedly of another realm, and this oracle can see things with his mind. One of the carnivores told us that this mystic was captured about a year ago. I think it’s quite obvious.”

The twins looked at one another with shock covered faces.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Illuria asked.

“You know me,” Trussil replied. “I don’t lie. They plucked the Farseer out from right under your noses. Still think this is not your fight?”

Airulli stood up. Anger coursed through his veins. “We have to get him back.”

“Mordigal can lead you there,” Trussil said. “Help us defeat the carnivores and he will take you to where your father is imprisoned. You have my word on that.”

Illuria shook her head. “Mordigal. Of course. Why am I not surprised he is involved in this.”

Trussil ignored the comment. “So, will you fight with us?”

Illuria rose and glanced at her brother. Together the twins turned to Trussil. Their answer was obvious. For the first time since the dawn of their kind, the Avians were going to war.

Chapter 31

C
old rain fell upon the three brothers in unrelenting force as if they had somehow angered the heavy dark clouds that loomed above. They struggled to navigate the now muddy forest floor and tried to ignore the occasional thunder clap that shook the earth and reminded them that the end of the storm was nowhere in sight.

Nearly three days had passed since they had separated from Mordigal and Caballus and the brothers had made good progress. Their journey had taken them to the southwest where they had followed the diminishing mountains until the range gave way to a dense, tree-lined hillside through which they now worked. Despite their efforts they were still several days from the first known settlement and the most difficult stretch was yet to come.

Splotch ducked under a low tree branch, wiped the rain from his face and turned back to check on the others. Blotch was the closest to him, trudging along merrily while he hummed a familiar tune as if the pelting rain was merely an after thought. Splotch tried to recall the song, something their mother used to sing to them, but he just couldn’t place it.

Clotch was a bit father back, grimacing with each step, clearly bothered by his wounded leg. He was a stubborn one and they had helped him along at times but always with a great deal of resistance. Splotch was naturally worried about him, as he had been for the majority of their lives.

The brothers were triplets, identical to all but that blasted horse Caballus - and they would surely have to find out his tricks - but Splotch himself had long ago defined the characteristics that made them each unique.

Being the oldest, albeit mere seconds before the others, Splotch had been dubbed the protector of the group. Although his wit was not quite as great as his brothers he was the strong one, the leader among them, the one that made decisions. Mother had assigned this responsibility to him long ago and he was determined not to fail. He would give his life for them. They were everything.

Blotch was the funny one, always ready to spin a joke or tale. He could entertain the most drab of men during the most depressing of times. Children loved him and women were drawn to him like a magnet. He would be the first to marry, no question about that and, if they were lucky, his children just might inherit his charm.

Clotch was the weaker one, the youngest and most sensitive. He had a knack for getting into trouble and was a bit clumsy at times. His frailties aside, he was the most obstinate of the three and was rarely frightened, almost to a fault.

Watching his brothers struggle to catch up, Splotch grew concerned. Clotch was injured but even Blotch had grown weary. They had apparently pushed themselves too hard on their journey and it had begun to show. There was no choice, they needed to rest.

Splotch peered through the trees hoping to find shelter and spotted a cluster of rocks half way up the hillside ahead. It looked like a cave and because of the things that tended to lurk inside of them, caves were generally thought of as bad.

He looked for alternatives but the forest provided little in the way of protection from the downpour. The winter had stripped the majority of the leaves from the trees and they had not seen any other suitable areas to stop for some time.

Splotch pondered their situation for a moment then sighed. They had to check it out.

“Alright boys we need to rest for a bit!” Splotch yelled as he wiped the rain from his face. “I’m going to run up ahead and check out those rocks. It might be a cave so hang back a bit until I see if it’s clear.”

His brothers looked at one another. Of the words that made his kind shiver,
cave
was near the top of the list. Although the possibility of stumbling upon a den of carnivores existed, they desperately needed a place to duck in from the rain.

Splotch made his way through the trees, slowing his advance to a crawl as he approached the cave. Amidst the downpour, with the sound of rain striking the ground all around him, his footfalls were muffled except in his mind, where each step seemed to break a false silence that made him cringe with every twig and leaf that he encountered. Sweat mixed with rain and fear nipped at his mind.

When he neared the mouth of the cave Splotch slowly peered through the water that fell across the entrance and was immediately surprised by an unexpected sight. Sitting huddled on the ground and tightly gripping a thin dark cloak around her body was a pale woman with emerald green eyes that stared back at Splotch. The look on her face was one of equal shock as she had clearly not expected company.

The woman had a narrow face and she appeared to lack hair atop her head. In fact, she lacked eyebrows as well yet despite these detractions she remained attractive, even alluring. She projected an aura of innocence, likely because she appeared young though by no means a child.

The cave was small but its depth could not be determined from where Splotch stood due to a discomforting blackness that lingered in the space behind her. Although he could not tell if any dangers lurked farther within his apprehension was calmed by the shivering and frightened woman that nervously backed away from the entrance. Surely if anything lurked deeper it would have come for her by now.

A hand on his shoulder nearly forced Splotch to leap from his skin. He spun around and brushed the touch away before he realized that his brothers had joined him. Amused by his reaction, their laughter forced a red glow that surfaced on his now sour face.

“Jumpy are ya?” Blotch asked, amused.

Splotch scowled and whispered, “I told you two to wait back there.” He tilted his head in the direction of the cave opening, forcing his brothers to take notice of the woman peering out at them.

“Well now, what have we here?” Clotch asked as he gingerly took a few steps toward the entrance.

“Stay back,” Splotch said as he held out an arm to stop his brother. “We don’t know if she is alone.”

“Oh come on now, it’s pouring out here,” Clotch argued. “We can share the space with her for a minute.”

Splotch winced as he spoke. He knew the woman could hear them although he was not certain she could understand what they said. She appeared afraid and backed into the cave farther.

Blotch ignored the debate and took a step forward. He looked at the woman, smiled and said, “It’s alright. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re kangaroos if you know what that is. We are just tired and want to come in out of the rain for a bit. Is that ok?”

Unsure of what to expect, the brothers waited as seconds slowly slipped by. The quivering woman then nodded her head shyly. Splotch wondered what tragic events had left the woman in her present condition.

Ignoring caution, Clotch quickly ducked out of the rain and into the cave, shaking the water from his clothes as he entered. His brothers looked at one another equally alarmed by the sudden boldness from the usually more cautious of the three.

“Hold on a second,” Blotch said over the sound of falling rain. “Let’s find out what she is.” He then turned to the woman and asked, “What is your kind might we ask? Sorry, just to be safe.”