The Raven (The Secret Chronicles of Lost Magic Book 1) Page 4

  Izhur laughed again. “Come with me then, you old Bear.”

  ∞

  “Still like it strong, Belwas?”

  “Oh, yes, and do you have any of that rose stuff? Such a rare treat for us of the Bear.”

  “I do, my friend.” Izhur finished pouring the mint water into two clay cups and reached to the upper shelf of his tree-dwell for the jar of ground hips. Strictly speaking, they were for healing, but Belwas had a sweet tooth, and Izhur knew how his old friend enjoyed nature’s gifts. It would help his fatigue, too. It had been a long journey for the Bear. Travelling a full eightnight from dawn to dusk in the height of summer was no easy task. Even for the young.

  Izhur added the rose hip powder, along with mountain honey, and stirred.

  “This will refresh you.”

  “Thank you, Izhur.”

  Izhur sat on a cushioned wolfskin next to Belwas. The two Soragans sipped the cool brew in silence, the scent of mint and rose filling the modest space. Three oil pots were dotted around – one on the ground before them and two higher on the shelves, revealing the small collection of clay jars – powders and potions typical of a Soragan’s store. Izhur reclined and allowed himself to relax, listening to the summer crickets as they sang a night song. A breeze, as light as a butterfly’s touch danced through the tree-dwell, cooling them.

  “How was the journey?” Izhur asked after a time.

  Belwas shrugged as he massaged one foot with a fat hand. “Good. Plenty of game on the way. No injuries or illnesses to speak of. The children behaved themselves. A bit boring really.”

  Izhur laughed. “Don’t tell me you were wishing for ill luck!”

  “Nothing too grave; just something bad enough to make an old Soragan feel useful again. There wasn’t even a nightmare to interpret.”

  Izhur’s smile faded. “Be careful of what you wish, Belwas.”

  Belwas eyed him beneath his large brows. “You’re right. I should be happy that my own nightmares have let me alone for so long.”

  Izhur frowned. “You’ve had nightmares?”

  Belwas grimaced. “Yes, and they all had the unshakeable sense of premontion about them.”

  Izhur swallowed. “You’ve seen something ill-omened? About your clan’s future?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  Belwas stroked his beard with a fat hand. “It was the most difficult, unclear set of images, Izhur. The dreams were filled with bloody destruction, great chaos and horror.” His bushy brows met in a frown. “I find them impossible to interpret.”

  “Can you identify the people in them?”

  Belwas shook his head. “The dreams were strong in their emotions. I could feel the horror and sadness, but it was difficult to see what was happening.”

  “And you haven’t had the dream since you left your river lands?”

  “No, I haven’t had the dreams since we left Agria.”

  “Agria? Why didn’t you mention it then?”

  Belwas shook his head again. “Because it wasn’t until later, in my meditations, that I realised what the dreams were.”

  “You’re convinced they were a premonition?”

  “Yes, the trouble is I can’t fathom what. There were two images that were clear, and consistently vivid in the dreams. Two animals always appeared.”

  “Animals? Totems perhaps. What were they?”

  Belwas looked at him. “A raven and a wolf.”

  Izhur frowned. He knew that the wolf was Yuli’s totem – and it was considered a very fortunate omen to have the same totem as one’s clan. But the raven? A shiver shook him. Such a totem would be most unlucky.

  “Well, never mind all of that,” Belwas interrupted Izhur’s thoughts, his voice back to its usual jolly tone. “How go things for you? Last we met you hadn’t long taken up your new position in the Wolf. Zodor still seems to cause you concern.”

  “You noticed some tension between us?”

  “I’ve been a Soragan for more than thirty summers, Izhur. These old eyes don’t miss much.”

  Izhur sighed. “It’s been difficult. I’ve had to work hard to gain respect. They didn’t accept me at first, the way they accepted Jakom.”

  “Jakom was very old. Older than me even. I’ve never seen anyone with the like of his power. Not even the Grand Soragan.”

  “I agree. Everyone respected it.”

  “Yes,” Belwas assented. “But he was once like you, Izhur. He struggled at the beginning, as we all do.”

  Izhur blinked. “I can’t imagine that. I can’t see him ever faltering or not knowing what to do.”

  “Well, he did. Just as I did. Wisdom comes with experience, and age, most regretfully.”

  Izhur shook his head slowly as he refilled their cups. ”What if I were to tell you that here, in the Wolf, is a Gift-born whose light is even greater than that of Jakom’s?”

  Belwas snapped his gaze to Izhur, eyes wide.

  Izhur cleared his throat. “Belwas, I need to tell you about our return here from the last Agria. I need to confide in you.”

  The old Soragan took a sip of tea and nodded. “You have my ear, friend.”

  “When we returned that summer, our forests had been burned. It was clear that a long drought had taken its toll. We guessed that a lightning strike set off a fire in the grasslands south of here and the burning went deep into the forest.”

  “Really? Well it doesn’t look that way now. It’s all green as ever in your hinterlands.”

  “The forest regenerates quickly. Sometimes we burn sections of it ourselves to enable this regrowth.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Yes, but that’s not what I want to tell you.” His eyes met Belwas’s. “That year we’d had much bad luck. One of our little ones had broken his leg coming out of a tree.”

  “It happens. I’m sure Amak fixed it well.”

  “She did.” Izhur nodded. “And then in the winter our clan suffered the sickness that took Jakom and Istia.”

  Belwas’s eyes closed. He and Jakom were close friends.

  “In the spring one of our best hunters, Osun, died, fighting off a lion. Even now I can’t fathom how it happened. He was a wise fighter, not foolhardy. His woman, Neria, was pregnant.”

  “Yes,” Belwas interrupted. “I remember her at Agria; she had many friends.”

  Izhur nodded. “It was the following winter, the night that marked the first of Ilun. That’s when her baby came.”

  Belwas leaned forward. “Ilunnight?”

  “Neria had struggled with the labor all night and day. When the daysun went down Amak summoned me. I had never attended a birth before, and it was my first Ilun as Soragan.” Izhur’s eyes reached out for comfort in his old friend. “A storm approached, but I persevered. I couldn’t save Neria, but …” He rubbed his temple. “The baby – I saved her, and she had the strongest light I have even seen – in anyone.”

  “Indeed? And she lives now?”

  “She does. She is a member of our clan. Well, if you can call it that.” Izhur hesitated. The truth was Iluna had barely been accepted at all. She lived with the clan’s tamatu, or low one, old Agath. Their tree-dwell was out in the forest and they had very little to do with the clan. Izhur and Amak were the only ones who interacted with Agath at all. He cleared his throat and continued. “But that is where Zodor and I disagreed; in truth we still do. He ordered her to be sacrificed.”

  ‘Sacrificed?” Belwas frowned. “We haven’t sacrificed a human for many winters. And who is Zodor to ask that of you? Such an order must come from the Eight, not an individual.”

  Izhur clenched his teeth. “As I said, he had great respect amongst us. He was our unspoken leader for a time. He still wields much influence.”

  “But so do you now. I have seen that.”

  “Yes, it is true. But it is all because of her.” Izhur let out a sharp breath. “I tried to enact their order, to carry out the sacrifice. I went to the altar
. I had everything prepared. There was a storm. I couldn’t light the oil pot. I thought the lightning could stand in place of fire. So, I conducted the ritual. But when I raised my arm, ready to strike, lightning bolted to me and the knife was thrown from my hand.” Izhur bent his head. “I never did find that knife.”

  The old Bear’s eyes widened before he lifted his cup and finished the brew in one great gulp. “How old is she now?”

  “She will be five soon, this winter. They named her Iluna.” Izhur finished his own drink and wiped his mouth. “I’ve been training her, along with Yuli. She has much talent already.”

  Belwas inclined his head. “Tell me.”

  “Today, she nearly summoned a mountain lion.”

  Belwas’s mouth fell open and he blinked. “I best take a look at this child.” He squinted at his cup. “Now that was very refreshing, but I think our conversation requires some stronger elixir.” He pulled out a leather cask from his satchel. “Care for some alza?”

  Anton

  It was Anton’s idea to play Circle in the forest meadow, well away from the adults. At seven summers he was the eldest, the leader. He faced the other children – three fellow Wolves, two Bears and two Eagles.

  “We need elders – a Soragan, a medicine woman, and a hunter. I, first son of Zodor, the Great Wolf,” he said, as he beat a fist to his chest, “I will be the hunter.” He pointed the stick he held at Hennita, a younger girl from the Bear. Their parents had arranged their couple-bond. But that wouldn’t happen for ages. “You will be my wife, so you will sit on the Circle as our family elder.”

  Hennita smiled and skipped to his side, her dark curls bouncing.

  “Who wants to be the medicine woman?” he asked next.

  Botha, a little Eagle girl who had become friendly with Hennita shot her hands up. “Me, I wanna be medicine woman.”

  Anton nodded and Botha skipped to Hennita’s side.

  “Yuli.” Anton turned to his brother. “You should be our Soragan.”

  Yuli smiled and waddled his head slightly as he walked to his big brother’s left side.

  “The rest of you are elders. Let’s sit.”

  Anton decided that they were a clan about to make a long journey to winter grounds.

  “We have to shoose,” Yuli announced to the others. “Do we go here?” He used the long stick to point at a map drawn in the dirt. “Or here?”

  “Choose, not shoose.” Anton grabbed the stick from his brother. “There’s been snow and hungry wolves here.” He drew a crooked circle in the dirt. “So we will go here.” And the stick moved a little way south to a rough looking square.

  The two girls from the Bear clan giggled.

  “Why do you laugh, wife?” Anton growled.

  Hennita looked at him wide-eyed. “Nuthin.”

  “She’s not your wife.”

  They all turned to look at the intruder who had interrupted their game.

  Iluna perched in the shadows, one leg bent in a triangle.

  Anton frowned. “Go away, Frog Face, no one wants you here.”

  Iluna thrust her chin forward and shrugged her shoulders. “She’s still not your wife.”

  “Go away or I cuss you.” Yuli pointed his finger toward her the way he thought that cursing occurred.

  “It’s curse, Yuli, not cuss,” Iluna replied.

  Anton gripped the stick and walked up to Iluna. “You must go away. We’re holding a Circle meeting. You’re not one of us. You’re nothing.”

  Iluna stumbled back, but lifted her head higher. “I will be part of the Circle one day. I will be Soragan.”

  Anton laughed. “You’ll never be Soragan. You’ll probably wind up a witch.”

  The other children sniggered.

  “Yeah, a frog-faced witch!” Anton’s best friend Caldon bent over as he laughed.

  “And she will be my wife.” Anton pointed toward Hennita. “We’ve been promised.”

  Iluna turned and walked back into the forest. Anton watched her go, his eyes squinting.

  “So where we go, brother?” Yuli asked, looking at the map.

  “Ya, where we go?” Hennita giggled.

  Anton threw the stick toward the forest. “I want to play a new game. Let’s hunt witches.”

  ∞

  Next summer, his eighth, Anton would begin his training as hunter. He was already tall and strong, and his father had been teaching him from a young age. His natural skills led him to practise the hunt, even as a young boy. And now, during midsummer, he had other children to impress, including his future wife.

  Anton tracked Iluna to the waterfall, but then lost her trail. Yuli tugged at his arm and was about to speak, but Anton put a stiffened finger to his younger brother’s lips.

  “Quiet, the witch is close.”

  He back-tracked to the last clue of Iluna’s path through the forest – a broken branch on a cypress. His eyes scanned the ground. He saw it then, a footprint, pointing toward the rock pool. She must have gone swimming. He looked to the waterfall and smiled. He had learned her secret.

  “Can we go now?” Hennita whined. “I’m hungry.”

  Anton’s first thought was to scowl at the girl, but then a plan came to mind.

  “It’s hot. Let’s go swimming before we go back. It will cool us.”

  The other children clapped their hands. Three ran the short distance along a rock path and jumped into the pool before Anton had a chance to tell the the rest of his plan.

  “Yuli, Hennita, Caldon and Botha come here.” He gestured for them to huddle close. “The witch, she is behind the waterfall, let’s get her.”

  Yuli’s eyes widened. “Ya, let’s get her,” he repeated.

  “This is going to be fun.” Caldon wore a wicked smile.

  “I dunno.” Hennita looked at her feet. “I’m hungry.”

  Anton sighed. “Hunters don’t care about their hunger. We have to get the witch, remember? We have to keep our clan safe.”

  Anton had never seen a witch in real life. He knew of them from the evenfire stories the elders told. Witches were gift-born who turned against their clans and brought forth ill omens. They had to be found by hunters and brought to justice or they would steal babies in the middle of the night and cook them over a fire while they danced naked in the moonlight. Witches had black teeth and black eyes, and drank blood where they could. Iluna’s teeth were white, and Anton had never seen her drink blood. But her eyes were blacker than night. As was her messy hair. And he’d heard the whispers about her. Everyone knew she was a witch. Everyone except Soragan Izhur.

  “You swim to the left; you to the right,” he instructed the children. “Caldon, you come with me. We’re going through the fall itself.”

  They entered the pond slowly. Before he swam, Anton bent to pluck several pieces of reed from the shore and tucked them into the waistband of his loincloth.

  Diving and splashing water, he played with the children at first. It was good to put your prey at ease. Then he signaled to the others to move closer. He took a deep breath and plunged. Ice water tickled his skin. The temperature dropped in the depths of the pool. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms and his body moved toward the waterfall. A jet stream of blue and green bubbles danced just above him. He swam through and sharp water prickled his skin.

  Another kick and he was on the other side.

  He jumped out and inhaled with a great gasp. After a moment he caught his breath and smiled as his eyes met Iluna’s.

  “I...” He coughed up a little of the water he’d taken in. “I knew you were here, witch. I have you now; the hunter has you.”

  Caldon emerged beside him.

  Iluna’s eyes squinted. She said nothing. She turned to her left, but stopped short when she saw Yuli.

  “I cuss you,” the boy said again, and held his hands the way he had done minutes before.

  Iluna sighed and turned to the right, but Hennita appeared; a scowl on her face. Botha stood beside her. Both girls were older th
an Iluna and Botha was much heavier. Iluna was trapped.

  Anton smiled. “You are to come with me for your judgment,” he said.

  Iluna lifted her chin. “Who will judge me?”

  Anton hesitated. He hadn’t thought of that. He was really only interested in the hunt.

  Iluna smiled – a smug smile.

  Anton grimaced. “My father will decide.” He spat the words. “Grab her,” he shouted to the children. “Let’s take her back to the tree-dwells.”

  Iluna ran between him and Yuli, and dove into the water.

  Anton shouted, “Get her,” and quietly cursed the ineptitude of his brother.

  He plunged into the water after her. She was a strong swimmer, but he was stronger. He saw her foot. Grabbing it, he pulled and her body flung back like a wounded duck.

  He surfaced and grabbed her under the chin. She let herself float in his arms while he treaded water. “That’s right, I have you now,” he said.

  He steered them closer to the shore and stood when he felt the rock underfoot. But Iluna kicked, hard, backwards. Anton let her go as his hands went to his groin in an attempt to quell the sharp ache from her kick.

  Iluna laughed and ran off, while Anton stumbled in the shallows. Then his anger took hold and overpowered the pain. He jumped out of the rock pool and sprinted.

  She was smaller than he, and slower. Following her trail was easy. He just had to keep running, like a wolf.

  “I’m coming for you, witch,” he shouted and lengthened his stride.

  Fronds and branches slapped his face; they stung, but they’d slow her down more. Soon he heard her – her steps, her breathing. She was panicked.

  Smiling, he increased his speed. And then he saw her, running for her life, deep into the forest.