The Mark Of Iisilée

by T P Sheehan

  “Anywhere you want?” Hannah did not understand.

  Nëven was not listening. She was checking on her father’s whereabouts again. Fifty feet away, Creighton was going over Auroch with a grooming brush. When finished, he placed the brush atop Auroch’s saddle. Nëven swung back to Hannah. “Hannah, we are friends, aren’t we?”

  “Aye,” Hannah smiled. She thought it nice Nëven already thought of her as a friend.

  “Friends share secrets, don’t they?” Nëven reasoned.

  “I guess so…”

  Nëven bit her bottom lip for a moment. “Watch this.” She gripped the Jasper stone and vanished.

  Hannah spun about, looking for Nëven. She was gone. She spun about again and there she was—right in front of her again, holding Auroch’s grooming brush. Still gripping her Jasper stone, Nëven vanished again. This time Hannah caught a glimpse of her standing beside Auroch and the next moment, she was back again. Nëven pointed to Auroch. The grooming brush was sitting atop his saddle as before. Hannah was at a loss for words. She thought her own magic skills were getting good, but this was so, so much better.

  Nëven put a finger to her lips. “Shh… this is our secret.”

  The god of Fire took his leave for the night. Hannah had caught glimpses of the sun’s descent to the west before its rays disappeared from Froughton Forest all together. She wondered if Nëven’s Earth god slept at night. Sitting cross-legged beside her new friend on her mother’s blanket, Hannah felt the pine needles beneath her, pushing through the blanket. She played with a twig of pine, breaking it into ever-smaller pieces until so small, no more breaks could be made. This was all stuff created by Nëven’s god. Hannah was pretty sure the Earth god was awake, even in the dark of night, because it seemed to her they were being watched.

  Creighton would not allow a fire at first. He said fires were only safe at the checkpoints, which were well protected. Hannah thought Nëven’s father to be as stubborn as her own father. Mother knows how to deal with stubborn fathers. Finally, Creighton relented and Alessandra built a small fire well clear of the road.

  “I’m pretty sure father wants us to keep moving,” Nëven said to Hannah.

  “We won’t be moving, Nëven. We’ll be staying here tonight,” Hannah explained. She was watching Nëven fiddle with the Jasper stone around her neck. Nëven spotted her and smiled. Hannah considered the fire again then turned back to Nëven. “Can I show you some magic of my own?” Hannah whispered.

  “Yes, please!” Nëven said, a little too loud for her father’s liking. He hushed her to silence.

  Hannah checked her mother was not watching. She was away with her thoughts, gazing into the fire. Hannah stared hard at the fire and thought of which of her spells would impress Nëven without making too much of a ruckus and getting them into trouble. It was then she remembered Csilla’s knife. Hannah drew if from her belt and held it to the side of the fire so she could see the flames reflecting off its fire-bronze and steel blade. Nëven watched and waited in silence, her green eyes widening with anticipation.

  “Watch closely,” Hannah said. She concentrated on the blade and whispered the spell Csilla had used. “Fara gin parshin-ar.” Nothing happened. No ring of flame danced about the blade. Nothing. Hannah scrunched her nose. “Fara gin parshin-ar!” she said a little louder. Still nothing happened. Nëven giggled and Hannah felt her cheeks warming. “Fara gin parshin-ar!” Hannah almost shouted this time.

  “Hannah!” Alessandra scolded. “Not here.”

  “Shh! Silence!” Creighton added.

  The blade did not change at all. Nëven laughed out loud and fell to her side, as if to accentuate the complete hilarity of the situation. Hannah sheathed the blade, cursing herself for trying a new spell, rather than one she had already mastered.

  “You need to both be quiet, now!” Alessandra said, standing and glowering over them both. Hannah spotted the sword in her mother’s hand. She looked scared. Creighton was also standing in silence. His muscular hand gripped tightly to his sword. Hannah swallowed hard. The warrior’s face looked as concerned as her mothers.

  “Father?” Nëven said, her face painted in worry, forgetting to silence herself again. Alessandra squatted to the ground beside the Earth girl and placed a hand over her mouth.

  Creighton slowly turned about. His back to the girls, he allowed his moss-green gown to fall silently to the ground revealing emerald body armour that flickered reflections from the fire. For a painfully silent minute the OhUidman stood motionless until, with the sound of a dull thud, his body jolted violently. Another thud and he jolted again and then a third time. Creighton fell to his knees and dropped his sword. Nëven screamed, but it came out muffled with Alessandra’s hand now locked over her mouth.

  Alessandra cast the other hand toward the fire. “Fara Namon!” she said. The flames vanished. The embers slowly died and in their fading glow, Hannah saw Creighton fall to his side. In the growing darkness, back toward the road, she watched the yellow glow of multiple torches shift briskly toward them.

  Alessandra grabbed Hannah by her jacket’s collar and dragged her to her feet.

  “Run!”

  Hannah did not need to be asked twice. She sprinted after her mother who was dragging the still screaming Nëven by the arm. Hannah glanced back at the torches, but her mother pulled her back into line. They hurtled away from Creighton in an unknown direction, stumbling over ferns and prickly bushes and side stepping trees that wouldn’t shift. Alessandra positioned herself in front of the two girls, pulling both along behind her, taking the impact of the undergrowth and smaller trees she was punching through.

  Hannah’s fear grew. Nëven’s screaming stopped but she was sobbing uncontrollably. The three of them were soon breathing heavy from exertion. After several long minutes they pushed out of the forest all together. Their aimless direction had seen them into a clearing of some sort. In the moonlight, Alessandra looked about, as if getting her bearings. Hannah baulked at the sight of her mother—“Mamma!” Her mother was scratched and bleeding all over. Her clothes were ripped from head to toe from the forest she had pushed through without any consideration for her own wellbeing. And she was shaking.

  Alessandra stood between the two girls, clutching hands with each of them. Her sword was lost—most likely dropped when she grabbed the girls she was desperately tying to protect. The three looked back into the darkness of the forest. Approaching torches soon broke the darkness. The three girls took backward steps.

  “Hannah. Nëven. When I tell you to run, you run back into the forest and find a dark place to hide in absolute silence. Find your way into the Valley. Nëven, do you think you can find your way to the second checkpoint?” Nëven did not answer. Hannah looked across her mother at her terrified friend. “Nëven!” Alessandra shook her violently. Hannah had never seen her mother like this before. “You’ve got a Jasper stone. I know you can use it. Try your best to jump with Hannah. You can save your life and Hannah’s. You know you can.”

  The torches drew closer and were just moments from breaking through to the clearing. Alessandra, Hannah and Nëven stood in the open field under the merciless luminescence of the moon. The first torch reached the edge of the forest.

  “Exploda fara gin mara!” Alessandra shouted. The powerful spell made the first torch explode in a blinding rage of light. The surrounding forest ignited. The torchbearer wailed. “RUN, GIRLS!”

  Hannah shifted past her mother to run but Alessandra’s long arm grabbed her at the last moment and drew Hannah to her body, hugging her close. Hannah wrapped her arms around her mother, squeezing with everything she had. She made a desperate wish to be gone from this place. Then Hannah felt the soft touch of a hand on hers, drawing her from her mother. It was Nëven. Alessandra broke her embrace and stood. From deep within her mother’s chest came a rumble as angry as a fire dragon. From the rumble came the bellowing words of the same vicious Fireisgh spell—“EXPLODA FARA GIN MARA!” Three more torchbearers broke t
he forests perimeter and one at a time exploded as the first had done.

  “RUN…” Alessandra’s single word tore through Hannah’s mind as a thought.

  Hannah and Nëven ran through the clearing, holding one another’s hand as tight as can be. Neither looked back. Hannah heard the metallic scything sound of swords been drawn. Her mother’s thoughts bathed her mind—“I love you beautiful girl.” She ran with Nëven, faster still. “Run my beautiful. Find your sister. Find Catanya—” Then her mother’s thoughts fell silent.

  Hannah heard heavy boots behind her, taking one step for every three of her own and drawing closer. When so close she could hear the grunt of exertion, Hannah and Nëven veered sharply into the forest. Hannah felt the assailant’s touch on her shoulder as Nëven spun about and locked arms around Hannah, pulling her close. Hannah suddenly felt as if the wind had been pulled from her chest. She was overcome with dizziness.

  The two girls were standing next to Alessandra’s horse by the side of the road at the edge of the Valley of Shadows. Hannah fell, disorientated, bringing Nëven down with her. Voices… Torches… Hannah blinked her dizziness away. Nëven was pulling on her arm, trying to drag her to her feet. Hannah looked down the road. Two torchbearers stood over Auroch. The Dwyer bull had been slain. The torchbearers turned from the bull and ran at the girls shouting deep, guttural sounds that were hauntingly familiar to Hannah. She had heard it often in past months as her father’s legions fought to defend the borders of the Nuyan River. Hannah realised the attackers were Quag warriors.

  “Mamma!” Shock hit Hannah like a bolt of lightning. Nëven was sobbing again at the sight of Auroch. It was the only thing that felt real. Instinctively, Hannah grabbed Nëven this time. Nëven was shaking like an autumn leaf moments before it dropped from the tree. “Nëven!” The Quag warriors were seconds away from them. “Nëven! GO!” Nëven gripped Hannah’s arm and it happened again.

  Hannah felt as if a great gust of wind had hit her all at once, from every direction. The thump to her chest left her heaving for air, and no amount of blinking would restore her blurry vision. Nëven continued to sob. Hannah was sure it was from more than shock or sadness—she was in pain. “Nëven?” Hannah rubbed her eyes and looked around into the dark of the forest. Where am I? “Nëven?”

  “Hannah! Your knife…” Nëven wailed. Hannah was scared for her and scared the Quag would hear Nëven.

  “They’re over there!” shouted a deep voice. Through blurry vision, Hannah saw approaching torches once again.

  Nëven yelled and lunged at Hannah, grabbing her.

  THUMP!

  Hannah was short of breath again. Where are we now? Strange thoughts swept through Hannah’s mind at a million miles an hour. The thoughts were foreign and certainly not her own, and she could not shake them. They told her of a terrible pain in her chest. Hannah went to feel her chest but her left arm was stuck. She felt with her right arm. There’s no injury…

  “Hannah?” Nëven’s voice tore through her mind making her jolt with astonishment.

  “Nëven?”

  “We’re…” Nëven tried to talk but was struggling. Her thoughts came again. “We’re stuck… We landed in each other’s jump and I’m hurt. Your knife…”

  Hannah reached for her knife. It was not there. She tried to speak but could not draw breath to do so. “It’s gone!” Hannah spoke back with her thoughts. “Why can I hear your thoughts but not your voice?”

  “We’re stuck,” Nëven repeated. “One more jump and I’ll pull free…”

  THUMP!

  Hannah fell hard to the gravel ground and gasped. Breath finally came to her. She moaned, glad to have her voice back. She turned about, blinking her vision back into focus. There was a dim torchlight over her shoulder and she scampering away across the forest floor. She saw then that a Quagman’s fist was not holding the torch. It hung from a tree above her. In the light, Hannah saw Nëven curled in a ball ten feet from her.

  Hannah crawled to her on all fours. “Nëven!” She gently rolled Nëven onto her back.

  Nëven’s eyes opened and she stared first at Hannah, then to the torch. “We’re safe now,” Nëven moaned. “We’re at the second checkpoint.” Then Hannah saw her knife—the one Csilla gifted her—protruding from the right side of Nëven’s chest.

  “Nëven—no!” Hannah cried. She took a hold of the knife handle. Nëven screamed from the pain. Hannah let go.

  “What is going on here?” A deep voice demanded. Hannah spun, fearing the worst, until she saw it was no Quagman and for a moment, she thought it was Nëven’s father. It was a big warrior with the same armour, gown, curly red hair and beard.

  “Nëven’s father is dead. My mother…” Hannah sobbed. The OhUidman grabbed Hannah by the arm and dragged her to her feet. “So you thought you’d kill Creighton’s daughter.”

  Hannah’s hands were bound with rope behind the trunk of an oak tree. Her head was flopped forward and she felt her black, matted hair dropping over her face. She had fought sleep through the night, but as the sun rose, she could fight it no longer.

  Some time later, Hannah was startled awake when her feet were kicked out from under her. She could not fall, for her arms were bound too high about the tree but she felt the strain as they took the weight of her sagging body.

  “Witches don’t sleep.” It was an OhUidman, yet not the one who found her standing over Nëven with Csilla’s knife in her chest. “Are you a witch?” the man laughed.

  Hannah got to her feet again but was too scared to reply and did not understand what was funny about the situation. She swallowed hard but her mouth was parched from thirst. Her lips tasted salty from spent tears. She glanced to her left. A small distance away, Nëven rested on a stretcher. Csilla’s knife had been removed from her chest, but she had not moved at all during the night. Hannah closed her eyes and made a wish for Nëven to get better. She even tried to hear Nëven thought’s again, but gathered it was her Jasper stone that had allowed them to do so previously. At the least, Hannah hoped that was why she could not hear her friend’s thoughts any longer and not that she was too sick to think.

  Morning aged into afternoon. Hannah could see the sun gliding ever so slowly over the dense treetops. The Fire god must have been looking for her, searching the forest from the skies. He was not able to penetrate through the trees here in the Valley of Shadows to find her. Perhaps Nëven’s god is hiding me here. Does the Earth god think I hurt Nëven?

  Two other OhUidmen riding Dwyer bulls arrived at the checkpoint. The man who was standing guard walked to meet them. “Anything?”

  “I’ll take it from here,” said another OhUidman who had appeared beside Hannah. He was glaring at her. Hannah stared back. It was the man who found her the previous night. “What news?”

  “We’ve found Creighton’s body, Regan.” The younger of the bull riders said. “They made camp an hour west. Creighton’s bull is slain by the roadside in the Outer Rim. No sign of the girl’s mother.”

  “Any sign of Quag warriors?” the one named Regan asked.

  “No, though it was definitely their doing. And we found this.” The younger OhUidman handed Regan a scroll, which he unfurled and read. Regan looked at Hannah then continued to read. When he was finished, he stepped toward her again.

  “You are Xavier’s daughter?” Hannah turned her head away. She did not know what she should tell these men—not whilst tied as a prisoner to a tree. Regan sighed and walked to his comrades. “This is a sad state of affairs.”

  Hannah knew she was in trouble—big trouble. She thought of how Csilla’s knife could have come to injure Nëven. To do so, she searched through dark, violent memories…

  ‘Fara gin parshin-ar!’ Hannah had tried to cast the spell Csilla had shown her, but failed over and over again, even when she was shouting the spell. Then they were attacked, and it was her fault. I made too much noise. She remembered Creighton warning her mother to keep going to the checkpoint. We would have been safe here.
Then there was the fire. The fire attracted the Quagmen, as did my shouting… Hannah refocussed her thoughts again on the knife. She remembered sheathing it in her pousse-plaited belt, but the belt had no scabbard. In the confusion that followed, Nëven had grabbed her and used her Jasper stone to save them both. Just as mother told her. Hannah knew that somewhere in the chaos of it all, she had come to stab Nëven in the chest.

  The realisation made Hannah sink. Her legs seemed to give out and her arms took the weight of her body again. Hannah’s eyes filled with fresh tears that tracked down her cheeks, her lips and fell to the forest ground at her feet. She looked to Nëven again and felt as if her heart was going to stop.

  “That little girl didn’t hurt anyone.” Regan’s voice was like a dream.

  Yes, I did…

  RED PASS

  Nothing could have prepared Magnus for the sight of the Red River’s blood-water bleeding into the tumbling waves of the Neverseas. This is the blood I carry… The blood so many desire. He wondered if others truly desired it, or was it Delvion alone who was mad enough to do so?

  Here at the mouth, the Red River was drawn by the ocean rip beneath the surf, turned over and over then pummelled into a scarlet spray before fizzing away as pink foam, blushing cockles that freckled the otherwise white sandy shore. Magnus knew the Red River, formerly called the ‘Little Traas River’, ran red since Balgur was slain upon it twenty years ago. What he did not know was the effect it would have on him. He picked a pink cockleshell and rubbed its ribbed surface with a thumb. A final reminder of Balgur’s existence, he lamented.

  It had taken two days to reach the Red River at its end, but sighting where the river terminated gave Magnus a reference point as he and Catanya followed it upstream between the Black Cliffs and the Romgnian Mountains.

  “This is where the ‘Red Pass’ begins,” Catanya explained. Magnus looked at the gentle tapering of the mountain ranges either side of them forming a curved plain about two miles wide with black granite to one side and a less congruous formation of stone to the other. The Red River was at its lowest point. Magnus could hear the trickling of water. “We are days away from the Romghold, so there is no threat from that direction. The Black Cliffs however…”