The Raven (The Secret Chronicles of Lost Magic Book 1) Page 6

  Ulof spat, the way his father always did. “I’ve been instructed to order our tamatu to do it.” His eyes burned.

  “Ha! Ugot still harboring that old wound is he?” Agath spat too. “The girl has never harmed us, not once in eight summers. Tell your bitter father to carry old fat Zelda’s satchels himself.”

  Iluna’s jaw dropped before she tried to hide a smile. Aunty was always saying what she thought and it hadn’t done her any favours. Once she told Zodor that the bigger his muscles grew the more stupid he became, and she’d done it at the evenfire meal in front of the whole clan. It had brought sniggers from some, but this made it worse. Agath was punished for it and she had to clean Zodor’s family tree-dwell and do all of their dawn-meal cooking for a full eightnight.

  Ulof’s nostrils flared and a scowl contorted his already ugly face. “Be sure to return to the back of the host, once you have the satchel,” he said to Iluna between gritted teeth. Then he turned and ran to the front of the column.

  Iluna shrugged at Agath and lent forward into the wind, marching to the front of the column to find Aunty Zelda. She had to do what she was told.

  ∞

  Iluna stumbled, but the thick grass that carpeted the riverbank felt cool and soft on her feet. The climb down from the high plains had been rocky and, in places, quite steep. Zelda’s satchel, stuffed full of carved bone statues and pots of rose hips for her daughter’s family in the Otter clan had made Iluna’s back hurt. Zelda now sat on the riverbank with her feet dangling in the clear running stream of water that gurgled its way over glossy rocks.

  “Your satchel, Aunty.” Iluna dropped the large leather bag next to Zelda who nodded, before returning to the attentions of her grandson playing in the shallows of the stream.

  It felt better being free from Zelda’s heavy burden. The clear air and beauty of the forest gave Iluna a new lease of life, and she jogged over the grassy flat to the trees that lined the flood plain; the soft grass, a welcomed cushion underfoot. The trees were old and gnarled and appeared to Iluna like the grandfathers and mothers of the clan, standing tall but crooked with wisdom and aged limbs. She ducked under a low branch and the air became cooler. Darker.

  “Iluna!”

  She stopped and turned. Izhur, framed by the tree branch, stood with squinted eyes.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just to explore a little. I won’t go far, dear Uncle.”

  Izhur nodded. “Be sure not to. I want you back before evenfire. You need nourishment and sleep. Tomorrow is another big day and you’ll probably have to carry Zelda’s satchel again, although I’ll try to get one of the young men to do it.”

  Iluna nodded, frowning. Why couldn’t the fat old woman carry her own satchel? But she said, “Yes Uncle”, before turning to explore the forest.

  It was still and dark. Dusk finally advanced, but the vast leafy canopy made the forest seem as though night had already descended. Iluna smiled as she breathed in the cool earthy smells, touching the trees’ bark as she walked. Forests always energised her. Life buzzed within the trees. Water traveled up the trunks to the limbs and every leaf. Sap oozed its way around like thick, lazy blood. And something deeper – whispering. It sung through her fingertips. This forest was calm, content, friendly – and very, very old.

  A presence lurked here. Or another was missing. It didn’t come to her at first. The trees were louder than most trees she knew. But there was something very different about this forest. Then, like a slow moon rising, it came to her. She frowned slightly, cocking her ear. Listening. But there was nothing. No sound or vibration. No movement.

  Where were the animals?

  She took a deep breath and tried again. There was something there, right behind her. Watching. The hair on the back of her neck bristled and she shivered a little despite the moist heat of the forest. Iluna couldn’t make out what it was, or if it was friendly or hostile. But something was there, and its intensity was growing. She swallowed a lump and took a calming breath.

  With little steps she turned around until she faced the strange energy. Straight ahead stood an old oak, taller than any other tree she’d seen here, with large deep green leaves. Moonberry shrubs surrounded its wide trunk – their shiny blue fruits, almost purple, contrasted against the dark green of the undergrowth. The humming of the creature’s energy, whatever it was, grew stronger, but where?

  A loud squawk sounded and echoed throughout the forest. Iluna looked up. There, on a thick branch of the oak, sat a bird similar to the crows of their summer lands, but different. Its feathers were so dark they seemed to shine with a blue gleam. It was much larger, too, and the feathers under its beak gathered, as though it wore a beard.

  “Raven,” she whispered, and the bird squawked.

  She’d heard about them from the evenfire stories. Ravens were birds of day and night. Their paths crossed through this world and the Other – and Malfiren. They were not to be trusted for they could be good, neutral or evil; whatever took their fancy at the time.

  One evenfire tale, that Aunty Agath loved to recite, told the story of Magut – a Soragan prentice who had been tricked by a raven back in the dream days when the world was still very young. Magut had a yearning to do great deeds for his clan. He used his gifts to help the hunters find their prey and to lead the gatherers to the most bountiful harvests. He would give energy to the weapon makers so that their laborious task of knapping was more easily achieved. He would give strength when the clan found themselves under threat of a lion or pack of wolves.

  Eventually he used his gifts to alter the natural circle of life – casting love spells and healing the ailing when death was the natural course. His teacher and the clan’s Soragan, Pata, tried to reign in her young novice’s zest for control. For such interference in daily life was unnecessary, and unnatural. But Pata, old and tired, could do little to curtail her prentice’s fervor.

  One night, on dusk, a raven appeared to Magut and offered him a gift – the raven would steal the collective power of all the Soragans and their prentices and give it to Magut. All the raven wanted in return was the promise that he would sacrifice one child every Ilun to the Malfir.

  Magut was wary. But the desire to have all that power proved too tempting. He imagined all the good he could do for his clan, indeed for all of Ona’s people, if only he had such power. He took the raven’s offer. Greed and corruption quickly soured his soul and Magut became an abomination – a wizard of evil.

  Iluna blinked. There was a lesson in the tale. Would this bird offer her a pact?

  The raven cocked its head and squawked again.

  “Leave,” Iluna said, for she did not want to trust it. The bird obeyed, flapping large glossy wings and flying off through the canopy to the darkening sky.

  A twig snapped and Iluna jolted, turning her ear toward the sound. Anton stood close, his eyes wide. Iluna held her breath.

  “You control them, don’t you?” he asked.

  Iluna didn’t move. The last time Anton spoke to her was three summers past, when he’d accused her of being a witch. Izhur and Belwas had given her a punishment for using her gift on him. She still smiled sometimes, when she remembered the way he had run from the forest. But she didn’t deserve that punishment.

  She’d had to stand in front of the evenfire for a full day and night, on two feet, no food or water. She wasn’t allowed to sleep, or to cry out. And she was forbidden to speak. It was a cleansing – proof that she was protected by the Benevolent Ones for she survived the night and no evil claimed her. Yuli had spat on her and called her names when he thought no one was looking. But his brother, Anton, had seen it and done nothing to stop him. He’d just watched with those blank eyes – the eyes of a hunter. Those same eyes that watched her now as he repeated his question.

  “I said you can control them, the animals. Can’t you?”

  She didn’t want to be punished again. To be set up by this mean hunter-boy. So she ran, fast through the forest. She ran u
ntil her legs ached and her chest burned with hard breathing. When she reached the soft grass of the floodplain she collapsed onto her back and watched the stars in the darkening sky until she got her breath back. When she sat up she could see that the evenfire had been lit and there was already an aroma of charred meat that made her mouth water. She looked back over her shoulder toward the forest. But Anton hadn’t pursued her. She bent her head in relief.

  ∞

  Iluna sat on her reed mat under the hide lean-to she shared with Aunty. The Wolf had not long arrived in Ona’s Valley – a land abundant with forest where the Agria was always celebrated. After their arrival each member of the clan had been given an orange fruit by members of the Bear who had arrived first. Agath laughed when Iluna examined the round fruit with a quizzical look.

  “Like this.” Agath stuck her thumbnail into the fruit, peeling back its skin. Juice squirted everywhere and ran down her fingers before Agath pulled off a section and popped it in her mouth, munching with a smile on her wrinkled face.

  Iluna did the same. The fruit awoke a tingly taste sensation that she never knew existed; so sweet. Juice ran down her chin and she tried to catch it, licking her fingers so that none of the sugary substance was wasted.

  Aunty laughed, her chin glistening with juice. “It’s good, Iluna. Yes?”

  “Yes, Aunty. Will we get more?”

  “There’s more than enough here for all our clans and the squirrels in the mountains.”

  Iluna lifted her eyes to follow the line of the summit that surrounded the valley. The very tops remained capped with remnants of winter snow. But it was warm down in the basin, hot even.

  The festival grounds sat in a large bowl. Clans were still arriving, making their camp on the grassy flat of the valley floor. The surrounding forests were abundant with root vegetables, bulbs, herbs, and many different fruits and nuts. There was lots of game, too – deer, rabbit, squirrels, pigeon. Trout leapt from the river waters. It was a land of paradise.

  Izhur and Agath had told Iluna all about the festival to come. Agria lasted eight days and nights. There would be a ceremony to mark the official beginning and one to end it. Some clans would arrive days or weeks earlier, or leave well after, to enjoy the spoils this land offered. It was a communal place. Owned by no clan, but all. All would leave it eventually and not return until their meeting in eight summers’ time. The clan of the Wolf had arrived two days early. Agria marked the solstice of the longest and warmest summer – the Summer of the Sky. It was a magical and festive time in which all three night bodies – Goda’s night-sun, Imbrit’s moon and Atoll’s star – could be seen together in the night sky. The night was almost as bright as day. Izhur had told her that the world changed during Agria. People were just as active during the ‘night’ as they were during the day, often more so. The magical light caused by the three night bodies was beautiful and healing, and people wanted to experience every moment of it. Iluna couldn’t wait to see the dancing and to taste more of the food that grew here.

  Iluna and Aunty’s lean-to stood at the outer ring of the Wolf encampment. They were to sleep next to the main path into the valley, as befitted their lowly status. A lot of people lined it just now as clans continued to arrive. Iluna watched as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her lips sticky. Old friends and relatives raced to greet each other. Most hadn’t seen one another since the last Agria.

  Iluna’s excitement continued to buzz as she watched various clans set up their camps, but a lump also caught in her throat. At the last festival her mother had been pregnant with her. She had never known her mother, or her father. They had both died, leaving her all alone. Except for Izhur and Agath. Ida cared for her sometimes. But it was difficult with Zodor and his sons. Iluna suspected something had happened the night she was born – something that caused a great rift between Izhur and Zodor. But Izhur wouldn’t tell her when she had asked, saying only that she had been a great gift. But if that were true, why was she the clan’s tamatu? She shook her head and banished further sadness from her mind. The sun was warm. The birds were singing. This was a time for happiness.

  There was a lull in the amount of people arriving now and Iluna took the time to more carefully arrange their camp. She tied down the lean-to with the leather thongs until it held firm. They had some shade from a vine that grew up an old dead tree – probably more than they deserved as tamatu, but no one had said anything. She collected some rocks from the river to make a firepit where Agath and she would share the dawn-meal, and she wondered what dawn would look like. A slow transition from one light to another?

  The evening meals were always a communal event around the evenfire and it would be no different for Agria. Iluna tried to imagine how big the fire would have to be to provide for the meals of eight clans. She shook her head trying to fathom all the new experiences. As it was, she’d never seen so many people, and clans were still arriving.

  Iluna had made a perfect circle with the stones when she heard the voices and noise of another clan approaching along the path. A woman led them. She wore many colourful beads around her neck; beads similar to Izhur’s. The beads that marked him as Soragan.

  Iluna’s mouth fell open and she shook Agath awake. “Aunty, that woman, she wears a Soragan’s beads.”

  Aunty grunted and opened one eye. “Yes, little bird. Your eyes do not fail you.” The old woman closed her eye again.

  “But, Aunty. She’s a girl.”

  Agath sniffed but her eyes remained closed. “The best Soragans are women in my opinion. Often they are both Soragan and medicine women. Powerful healers. Now let an old woman sleep!”

  Iluna stared with an open mouth. She’d heard of women being Soragans in the evenfire tales. But they were always in the Dream Days, when the world was young. The only real Soragans she had known were Izhur and Belwas, and Tyvan of the Eagle. Izhur had sometimes spoken about the Grand Soragan who was from the Snake clan. He was famous because he had introduced the bronze magic to the clans after his hermitage. All the Soragans she knew of were men. Now that Iluna looked more closely, this Soragan wore more beads than Izhur. Iluna wasn’t exactly sure what the beads meant as they were guarded with great secrecy by the Soragans, but Izhur had told her the most powerful Soragans had the most beads. This woman had at least as many as Belwas, maybe more. She was very old. Her silver hair had been chopped and clung close to her head. Her eyes burned with a sharp blue. Her stride was sure and strong. And she was very tall, for a woman. She even towered over some of the men in her clan.

  Iluna watched her pass, and she continued watching until the entire tribe had gone by. It was a large clan, much bigger than the Wolf. Iluna guessed they were the Otter – a clan from the south. They all seemed a little taller than the people of the Wolf and Iluna noted more variance in hair colour. Most of them had dark brown hair like everyone else, but some had lighter hair the colour of sand, and others even had the colour of fire. Fine ornaments adorned their dress. The women had turquoise stones sewn into their tunics. All wore a sandal on their feet. Iluna couldn’t take her eyes off them. They seemed somehow better than everyone else. Their clothes more fine, more decorative.

  At the back of their host, where the dust swirled, she looked for any signs of tamatu, like she had with other clans. But she wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her. There amongst the swirls of dust was a creature half human, half something else – tall and big. One of his legs was skinny and deformed and he had a club where he should have had a foot. He walked with a lumbering limp and Iluna thought of the twisted malfiren monsters that came at Ilun to feast on innocent spirits. Or so the evenfire stories told. The monster drew closer and Iluna swallowed as she studied his face. Broad lips seemed to gulp for air the way a fish does and thin strands of saliva fell from his lips. Large bulbous eyes scanned the crowd before him, as though on alert. He was bald. Iluna couldn’t stop staring as he limped past, but she wasn’t the only one. People along the path had stopped. Children
were pointing at the creature and asking parents what it was.

  “Durg.”

  Iluna heard the word and her eyes widened again. Of course, he was a durg. Iluna had never seen one; she’d only heard of them. They were supposed to be exposed as babies or young children, but here was one grown up, a man, still alive. Iluna wondered how that had been allowed and realised it must have something to do with the female Soragan. She must have persuaded her Circle of Eight to allow the durg to live when he was a baby. Iluna blinked and shut her mouth.

  She couldn’t imagine Zodor or Ugot allowing a durg to live in their clan. She wasn’t even sure if Izhur would allow it.

  Iluna’s mind was so focused on the revelations she had just learnt, wondering at distant possibilities, that she didn’t notice the flutter of wings. Or the soft squark that sounded from the vine-tree next to her shelter. She felt it, before she heard it – its essence. Just like a few days ago in the forest by the flood plain.

  She turned her head and there sat the raven, its dark feathers glossy in the midday sunshine.

  “You again,” she said.

  Yuli

  “Anton! Anton!” Yuli ran through the Wolf camp, almost tripping on the ties of other tents.

  “Watch where you’re going!” someone shouted, but Yuli kept running until he saw the white tent. His father had hunted the white bear before Yuli was born. White bears were giants that lived in their winter lands. The skin and fat had provided more than enough leather and waterproofing to make a large family tent. They took it with them whenever they traveled to visit other clans. It was heavy, but could be divided into four sections and they each had to carry a part on the journey. Yuli’s mother had painted it with images that represented their family; there were many fearsome creatures – lions, wolves, snakes. But there were softer images too. Red spring flowers dotted the entrance – his mother’s favourite.