By the end of the day, Raven had finished one shoe. Solomon appeared. His cheeks were red with exertion. He set about cooking the evening meal with the same urgency with which he had started the day. He added handfuls of dried herbs, chunks of fresh meat, and finally, a thinly sliced mushroom to the pot. Raven tried to see the mushroom but Solomon sliced it out of sight. Solomon let the stew bubble away for a while. He spooned out two bowls, gave one to Raven and sat opposite him. “Eat!”
Raven smelled the steam. There were too many fragrant herbs in it to identify individual ingredients, let alone one mushroom.
Solomon watched him. “Is there a problem?”
“It has a rich aroma.”
Solomon shook his head and spooned the stew into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days. Raven tested the flavour on the tip of his tongue. The meat tasted like goat, a chamois perhaps. As Solomon slurped down the last of his meal, Raven decided to do the same. Solomon smiled as he collected the empty bowl. “Water?”
Raven nodded. He gulped it down, relieved to wash the bitter taste from his mouth. Solomon remarked that Raven had made a shoe.
“Tomorrow I’ll make another,” Raven replied, clearing his throat.
“Are you still thirsty?”
Raven shook his head. “No. It’s just a speck of dust.”
Solomon leaned forward, staring, as if he’d seen Raven for the first time and wanted to memorise the details of his face. Raven cleared his throat again. It felt tight.
“Tell me your name,” said Solomon. He waited, half smiling. Raven shook his head. He planted his hands on either side of the bench and tried to stand. His throat continued to swell, restricting his breath. Solomon raised an eyebrow.
“Her name is Daiyu,” he said at last. “I remembered. It’s a pity you’re so attached to your flesh, Raven. You could have joined us.” Raven’s stomach cramped and he bent double. “A Khryseoi knows when one of his kind has been unbound,” continued Solomon in a conversational manner. “Daiyu and I will be free soon.” He stood up and placed his hand on Raven’s shoulder.
“Two part poison,” he said. “Don’t worry, it acts swiftly. I couldn’t leave you here in your condition. Who would look after you?” He straightened his cloak and walked away. Raven gasped for air. The poison surged through his body, every heartbeat driving it deep into his bloodstream. His jaw locked tight, preventing him from making any sound louder than a grunt. He heard the voice in his head again. Get up, Khryseoi! Walk! Raven felt as cold as if he were naked on the ice. His legs thrust downward of their own accord, bringing him to his feet. Walking stiffly, he crossed the room and took Xi’s sword from the ledge. He felt numb, beyond physical pain, almost past thought. Walk, Khryseoi! Ready your sword! He entered the shadows, saw a glimmer of light from a short passageway and placed one foot in front of the next. His vision began to blur. Focus! You must not fall! There was a small cavern ahead, lit by a lantern. First, Raven saw Solomon with a pendant hanging from one fist and a long knife in the other. Solomon spoke. His attention was focused on Windsong. The blood roared in Raven’s ears. He couldn’t make out the words. Windsong lay stretched out on a bench. She was gagged and bound hand and foot. Her pale fingers had curled together. Her eyes flickered, focused on Raven and widened. Solomon turned. He saw Raven and his brow creased with puzzlement. Raven drew back his arm and swung the sword. Solomon raised the hand holding the pendant to block the blow. The blade severed his hand and head. Raven stepped over the fallen body, ran the sword between Windsong’s wrists and sliced the ropes. Then his legs gave way. Windsong wrestled the gag from her mouth. She took his face in her limp fingers and rested her cheek against his. Before the darkness consumed Raven, he felt hot tears on his face.
* * *
Windsong’s fingers were numb. Solomon had bound her hands tight. She reached for Raven’s neck and felt for a pulse. His eyes were glazed, staring into space. She closed his lids gently with her fingertips. Her sadness was swallowed by fear and she reached for the sword, gripping it with both hands. She let out the breath she’d been holding as she looked at Solomon’s body, headless and with a severed hand. A pool of dark blood welled from his neck and wrist. Her eyes wandered to the hand, which even in death, still held a pendant. She prised it free and held it up to the lantern. The plaited leather thong held a misshapen stone, dull as tarnished silver. She rested the stone on her palm. It was as cold as the mountain. As she closed her hand around it she heard a man’s voice in the distance. It sounded like Raven, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She stuffed the pendant into her pocket and crept from the cave. Passing through the curtains, she blinked in the bright whiteness. A shadow rose from the snow, a huge brown bear. It reared its head and growled a warning.
“I must leave!” she said, raising the sword. “Let me pass!”
The bear cocked its head as if it understood. It huffed in reply and advanced on her, bounding through the snow. She retreated to the cave entrance but did not go inside. The bear reared on its hind legs, drew back its arm and swiped. She met the blow with her sword, severing several clawed fingers from its paw. The bear howled and backed away.
“Solomon is dead,” she said, raising her sword. “You needn’t suffer the same fate.”
The bear turned and bounded away, holding its wounded paw to its chest. She hurried to the sled, threw off the canvas cover and made her escape from the mountain.
~ Chapter 14 ~
Raven felt a lightness return to his body as the poison released its hold. His feet tingled. He opened his eyes and saw his fingertips rimmed with white light, the last caress of the moon before dawn. He blinked and it was gone, leaving him with a sense of uneasiness. The dark void of the Valley of the Shadow felt familiar to him now. A dry breeze brushed his face and in the distance, he heard the river churning. He let out a long slow breath, sat down and buried his face in his hands. The memory of the mountain and of Solomon standing over Windsong lying bound on the bench became as distant as a dream after waking. In the nothingness, he didn’t know if he were awake or asleep. There was only the wind and the river.
He sensed another entity waking slowly. Perhaps it was manifesting itself into a form which could speak. The breeze rose and fell as if clearing its throat. “You’re back, Khryseoi!”
Raven recognised the rich, deep, disembodied voice. The remark was a statement, so Raven decided he didn’t need to respond.
“And you’re troubled.”
“I didn’t come here for counsel,” Raven replied, speaking between his fingers.
“No. Of course not!”
Guide brushed past him. Raven knew it was pointless trying to reach out.
“Perhaps you would like some anyway?” said Guide.
Raven looked up and around. It was futile. There was nothing to see. “The last time we met, you bombarded me with questions. Now you speak in statements. Have you been working on your conversation skills?”
“I’ve had no one to practise with,” answered Guide. “The Valley is a busy place. Spirits come and go but none stop to talk.”
Raven put his face in his hands again. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t wish to, either.”
The wind stirred, wrapping itself around his body, pulling at his clothes. In the distance he thought he heard an oar slapping against water, or perhaps it was wings flapping. The sounds were brief, fleeting, teasing his ears with possibilities. Raven counted to a hundred and wondered if that number of seconds or years had passed in the world.
“Why are you not in the mood to talk?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“I’m simply curious.”
Raven lay down, folding his arms under his head for comfort. He tried to ignore the abrasive ground on the backs of his hands and stared into the sky, if indeed there were one. He’d never felt such desire for the sight of a single twinkling star hanging in the heavens.
“What shall we do then, if you don’t wish to talk?”
Raven sighed heavily. “What choices of activity are there in the Valley?”
“None that I’m aware of, other than rushing off to wherever you’re supposed to be next. As I said, nobody dwells here for long.”
Raven rested his head on an elbow. “You dwell here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The breeze picked up momentarily as Guide drew a breath. “Because you are here.”
“You’re here because I’m here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps you need someone to talk to.”
Raven lay down again. “I want to sleep and forget my life for a time,” he said. “Can I sleep here?”
“Of course, if you wish to remain forever. The Valley yearns for those who come here weary, souls who are sick of their tormented lives, the unfulfilled. They’re easy prey.”
“As before, you speak of the Valley as if it’s alive.”
The breeze dropped away. “It is,” said Guide, his voice cutting the air.
“Who are you?” said Raven, sitting up.
“I told you before. You mustn’t ask. No names. Not here.”
Raven sat in silence for some time. He picked his fingernails, not caring if they were dirty or not. When that was done, he took off his boots and shook them out. He massaged his feet, which felt whole, the broken bones now healed. “Very well,” he said, pulling on his boots, “no names, but can we speak of others?” He waited for a response. “Guide? Are you there?”
The wind rose and fell in the distance, skittering dry leaves across hard ground, or so the sound suggested.
“Sorry,” said Guide, his voice seemingly rushing from a great distance to be near Raven in a heartbeat. “I was distracted.”
“Distracted? By what?”
“Can’t you hear the music?”
Raven shook his head.
“It’s far away: the last ring of a chime, holding its note. It sounds as though it knows that if it were to come to an end, it would be lost forever.”
Raven strained his ears. He couldn’t make out any sounds other than the wind and the river. “I don’t hear any music.”
“Never mind! As I said, it was merely a distraction. What was your question?”
Raven cleared his throat. “May we speak of others? Names aside, you know who I am and where we are. Perhaps you can help me?”
“Perhaps.”
“What are you, Guide? Tell me why you have no form?”
Guide let out a frustrated sigh. “We are the same in essence. If you didn’t persevere with the notion that you need a body to exist here, then you wouldn’t be lost and blind.”
“Well, I’m certain you’re the same being I met last time,” said Raven. “You still don’t make any sense but at least you’re more agreeable company.”
The breeze picked up again and shifted direction. “Perhaps I was too harsh on you when we last met.”
Raven grabbed a handful of the biting soil. It trickled between his fingers and was gone, leaving him with irritated skin. “How much do you know about the war between the Khryseoi and Eurynomos?”
“The affairs of the mortal world are known to all here. Life beyond flesh exists in a different state. Some choose to meddle in mortal affairs. Others desire worship, to be seen as gods. There are kind, benign beings who try to help mortals, as you would an injured animal. But most aren’t interested.”
“I’ll take it that you are interested and that you know of Phylasso,” said Raven. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re more alike than you know. He couldn’t answer a simple question either.”
“Your questions aren’t simple,” Guide replied, in a grating tone.
Raven ran his hands over the ground. It scratched and burned his skin but when he dusted off his hands, there was nothing on his palms. “Solomon... I won’t protect his name... said Phylasso’s gift was a lie. He said it was a curse, not a blessing, that we were fighting a pointless war. He said it is only a matter of time before Eurynomos consumes all life. He said our only escape is to transcend, to become part of this afterlife... or whatever it is. What do you say to that?”
“Life beyond your world is... complicated. Mortals have a limited view of it. They see eternal life only in a context they can understand. Some think they will go to a pastoral paradise, others think they’re destined for purgatory. All I can tell you is that the complexities of life exist here too: love, hatred, war and peace.”
Raven huffed. “That’s no help to me.”
“I didn’t say I was here to help, only to talk.”
“Then you can leave me be,” said Raven, between his teeth.
“I’m content to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because you are The Enigma,” said Guide. “You are the only Khryseoi who didn’t fall during the war. You hold a certain fascination.”
Raven pondered the statement for a while. “Of the thirty thousand, I was the only one who never died?”
“Why do you persist with foolish questions?” said Guide, returning to his more familiar abrasive tone.
Raven laughed. “The Enigma! You flatter me. I’m not special because I didn’t die during the war; lucky perhaps, but that’s all! As a bowman, I didn’t engage the enemy at close quarters.”
“There were many Khryseoi bowmen and many ways to die, yet you did not. That makes you The Enigma. I’m curious to find out if you can understand the significance of this fact.”
Raven scratched his beard. “Beyond being able to keep my true name from Eurynomos, I have no idea.”
“You think in mortal terms. Until you’ve broadened your knowledge of life, you will remain blind and lost here.”
“Then I’m doubly lucky, because you’re here to guide me.”
Guide grunted, but did not disagree.
Raven pursed his lips, determined not to smile at having silenced Guide. “I think you are here to help me, whether you intend to or not,” he continued. “In Solomon’s cave, I heard a voice. It gave me strength. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“If you think of me, then hear my voice and feel strength, the answer is yes.”
“I knew it!” said Raven, clapping his hands together.
“The same could be said about thinking of one of your companions. Your reasoning is simplistic.”
Raven rubbed his hands together slowly. “Very well, let’s try another way. Can you help me to find Phylasso?”
“No.”
“No, because you can’t or won’t?” The breeze became cold and Raven shivered.
“No, because he’s not here,” said Guide.
Raven stood up and took a deep breath. “To answer with such certainty, you must have looked for him. Why do you seek him?” Raven waited for an answer. “Guide?”
“We’ve talked enough for now.”
“I think we’ve just begun,” said Raven between his teeth. “Why do you seek Phylasso? What’s your interest in this?”
“We’ve talked enough for now.”
Raven folded his arms across his chest. “Then leave.” He counted to a hundred again and could feel Guide’s presence close by. “You’re still here!”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m here for the same reason Phylasso is not. Nobody dwells in the Valley by choice. I’m stuck here, as you are!”
Raven began to form a picture of his mysterious companion. “Where do you go when I leave?” The wind swirled around him, blowing dust in his eyes.
“We’ll meet in the future, Khryseoi. Then you will understand.”
Raven nodded slowly. “I’m ready to leave.”
“Goodbye, then,” said Guide. He sounded distant.
Without being able to see a face or an expression, Raven couldn’t tell if Guide was saddened or disinterested. “Can you show me the way to leave the Valley?”
“It’s right in front of you,” said Guide. His voice had a rasping quality, like a stone scraping
a dull blade. “It has been all along.”
~ Chapter 15 ~
Solomon’s Mountain (Ancient Swiss Alps)
256 BC
After the events on Solomon’s mountain, Windsong felt afraid and alone, as if she were no longer able to care for herself. In her heart, she knew she could but she’d lost her confidence in that frozen cave. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget Solomon’s leaden gaze, his hands on her skin as he’d prepared her for slaughter. She considered returning to her village at the foot of the Kashi mountains. The people and way of life were familiar but she knew it would only last a few years. There could be no more trips to the cliff to start life over again. The risk of losing the sword and pendant was too great. She had to protect them.
She drifted from place to place, with the pendant in her pocket, the black blade on her hip and Raven’s bow across her back. She attracted unwanted attention wherever she went; the sword drew particular interest from mortals. They had never seen such a fine weapon and more often than she liked, she had to use it to protect herself. The act of taking lives she had been sworn to defend sickened her. Eventually she decided she must hide, vanish from the world until Raven, Xi, Klinge and Tak returned. A nagging voice in her head reminded her they might never return and taunted her with the idea she would be alone forever. The ordeal of doubt drove her to wield the pendant, to use its power to see into the spirit world, to search for Raven and for a sense of hope. Instead, she felt a dark malevolent presence, more terrible than Solomon could ever be: Acabar. While she used the pendant, she could feel him hunting her.
She wandered for years seeking sanctuary, dwelling wherever she could until she was forced to move on again. She visited The Watcher’s Tower and didn’t stay long. It had been pillaged and left in ruins. The Romans started to spread throughout the lands, conquering in the name of a man called Julius Caesar. The wars and the burden of keeping Solomon’s talisman and Acabar’s sword safe, forced her to live as she dreaded most: in solitude.
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