“I see you, Ovan,” the old man said, not moving.
“I caught a bird, but it’s not a big one.”
“I have caught nothing, so that small bird may be all we will eat today.” With his younger sister, there were four people in their house, and neither his sister nor his mother could hunt or search for food.
“Look,” the child said, proffering the bird, so the old man could see it. “I don’t know what it is.”
“A peregrine raven. We can’t eat that.”
“Why not?”
“The meat may be poisoned. Kill it,” the old main said, and turned his head, resuming his hunt.
“Well,” Ovan shrugged, “at least I tried.” He moved through the forest, looking at the unconscious bird. What attacked the bird? I see no marks on its body. He started to fumble through the feathers, trying to find a wound.
Riding at full speed, both Wanderers and Assassins were searching the sky for Umbra.
“He must have fallen somewhere,” Dochia said, still fighting the worse headache she had ever had. She was the only one not searching; her vision was half blurred. She was trying to feel Umbra’s mind, but she couldn’t.
“I see the forest he mentioned,” Scorta said, and turned his horse slightly to the left, followed by all others. At the edge of the scrub forest, they met an old man. “We mean you no harm. Did you see a peregrine raven?”
“What business have you with a raven?” the old man asked. “It’s’ not good to eat.”
“Did you see it or not?”
“No, I did not see it,” the old man said, plainly scared. I asked Ovan to kill the bird.
“You are lying,” Dochia said and dismounted. “Where is the bird?” She took out her knife and advanced toward the old man.
“My grandson found one a few minutes ago, but it was dead.”
“Where is your grandson?”
“He went home.”
“Where is home?” Dochia tried to calm both her anger and her headache.
“You can kill me, but I will not take you there. The Toltars killed six of our men. I will not allow you to harm my people.”
“We are not Toltars, and I don’t want to kill you. I want the bird,” Dochia said.
“It was dead,” the old man replied.
“Umbra is not dead. I can feel him again.” We may be at the edge of the black spot Ada mentioned.
“Who is Umbra?”
“My peregrine raven.”
“I am sorry, but I can’t help you. I don’t know where the boy dropped the dead bird.”
“It’s here,” a reedy voice spoke from behind a tree.
Despite her headache, Dochia sprang into the forest. Mira ran faster and caught the boy by his arm, then took Umbra from his hands. “He is breathing.”
Thank you, Fate, Dochia thought, unable to speak.
“Why is the bird so important?” Ovan asked, with childish curiosity. “We don’t eat peregrine ravens. Do they taste good?”
“We don’t eat them either,” Dochia said, managing to smile at the child, and then she took Umbra from Mira. “I got him a long time ago. He is like a friend.” She ruffled his feathers, trying to find any wound.
“He is not wounded. I looked really carefully. I don’t know why he fell from the sky.”
“Did you see him falling?”
“Yes, he was not really falling. He was half flying. I can’t explain it to you.”
Satisfied that she could not find any wounds, Dochia stretched her mind, trying to connect with Umbra, but the trace of his mind that she could still feel was too feeble to establish a connection. “We need to leave the black spot.” She glanced at both Wanderers and Assassins. “There is a band of Rhusins and Toltars behind us. All armed.” She looked at the old man.
“People don’t ride without weapons out there,” the old man shrugged. “They will go into the village for food and women. It is likely Aloxe’s band. They may kill one or two of us if they are not satisfied with the women.”
“We will go with you to the village. How far is it?”
“Three miles from here, but you should not come. They will kill more people, if they find you there. And they will kill you too. I will stay here with Ovan.”
“Take them on your horses. Irina, you take Ovan.” She looked at Scorta, who nodded.
“I never rode a horse,” the boy said, his eyes wide.
“You will ride now.” Irina dismounted and, smiling at him, she took Ovan in her arms. “Fera is a nice mare, she will not bite you.” Gently, she placed the boy on her saddle, then mounted behind him.
“You come with me,” one of the Assassins told the old man, who frowned, but the other man in Scorta’s triangle dismounted and raised him onto his horse.
Fifteen minutes later, they found an empty village.
“The sentry has raised the alarm, and people are hiding inside the houses,” the old man said.
“They have nothing to fear. Tell them to come out.” Scorta turned his horse several times, searching for places where they could hide the horses. There were only twenty houses in the village, and all were half underground. “Where can we hide the horses?”
“We have a stable for cows. It’s half empty now. The Toltars killed half of them; they’d have killed them all, only the others were not here. The place is a little tight for your horses, but they will manage.”
“Call the people out.”
“I will call them, but they may not come.”
“Call them,” Scorta snapped.
Aloxe’s band found an empty village, but that was expected. They visited the village twice a year. “Boros, call the rats out,” he said to the man on his left. “Tell them to feed us and to give us ten young women. Dismount. You,” he pointed at two men, “guard the horses.”
His deputy went to the house belonging to the chief of the village. “Come out, you old rat.” He kicked the door of the house, knocking it down.
A head of thick white hair appeared, and Boros pulled on a long beard. He kicked the man, throwing him into the dust. “We need women and food.”
“What do you want first?”
“Women. Give us ten women. Make sure they are young. Don’t forget your granddaughter. Aloxe and I have a weakness for her.”
“She is not here.”
Boros placed his boot on the man’s chest. “Don’t play games with me.”
“She is not here, but my nieces...”
“You have nieces. Bring them out.” He waited for a few moments. “Faster!” he shouted. “My blood is boiling for a good woman. Hope that I like your nieces; if not I will kill your wife. That old hag lived too long.” Two frightened women came out from the house, and Boros’s eyes widened. “Tell your wife that she is safe. These two look good.” He grabbed the first one and squeezed her breast. “Don’t worry, beauty, we will please you today and tonight.” He pushed them until they stood in front of Aloxe. “We have fresh meat. The Chief’s nieces. We should visit their village too. Which of them do you prefer?
“This one,” Aloxe said, and discarded the belt with his sword, then pulled the youngest one to him and kissed her roughly. Boros did the same with the second one. Eager, both men laid them down, watched by the rest of the band, who kept their distance. Aloxe did not like close onlookers. Both men and women rolled on the ground. Aloxe and Boros liked to play games first. Sometimes the women were on top, sometimes the men.
The first three ruffians from Aloxe’s band died without knowing what happened to them. They were the ones at the back, craning their necks for a better view. The next three were more observant; half turned, they learned that a sword would kill them. One of them grunted, alerting the band. It did not help them much. The Triangle of Assassins passed through them as if they were overgrown turkeys.
The two guards with the horses jumped to take their bows. An arrow from the house in front killed one of them before he could touch his bow. The second one was luckier; he died with a bow in his
hand.
At the front of the fighting band, Boros rattled when Dochia cut his throat. His glassy eyes stared at the large slit in Aloxe’s neck without seeing it. A third arrow from Irina took down another man, and Dochia threw her knife in another’s chest. Mira’s knife was ready too, but there were no more targets.
“All done,” Scorta said, cleaning his sword with the tunic of a dead ruffian. “They were rabble. I can’t even say that this was a fight.”
“The village will be safer from now on,” Dochia said and walked quickly toward the main house, where she opened her backpack. A pair of small, round eyes stared out at her. “You are awake,” she sighed, and took Umbra in her hands. “You scared me.”
“I am a tough raven,” Umbra said jokingly, “but the black spot was dangerous. It messed with my mind. I couldn’t fly any longer. At first, I thought about Meriaduk and his Maletera, but this was much stronger. It didn’t try to communicate with me. We must learn more about it when we return.”
“There must be some Talant ruins in the area, but it will not be easy to search the place. It messed with my mind too. I’ve never had such a bad headache. Shh,” Dochia said. People were coming, and she did not want them to know that Umbra could talk.
Next day, they left the village, and the remaining part of their journey toward Nerval was eventless.
***
Dochia followed Meriaduk through a maze of tunnels until they arrived in a hall larger than anything she had ever seen. Even the Grand Hall of the Arenian Palace was smaller. In the middle of the round hall, she saw the map both Ingrid and Ada warned her about. She had arrived in Nerval just an hour ago, but the Great Priest was as eager as a child to impress his new acolyte – Dochia was one of the most powerful Wanderers. There was nothing painted on the map, and for a moment, she thought they were wrong, but the size of the map and the place were right, just as they had seen in their visions. Sixty feet by twenty, the map occupied a semicircular pedestal. Meriaduk stopped in front of a strange desk, filled with light coming from underground. He gestured with his right hand, and the map came to life, depicting their whole world. Dochia did not recognize the six continents, set in a projection vaguely resembling a flower.
“Watch me,” Meriaduk said, his face glowing with satisfaction.
He gestured again with his thumb and forefinger. The map changed until only their continent remained visible, but Dochia still did not recognize it – there were no remaining maps fully depicting the continent in the libraries – but at the next flick of Meriaduk’s fingers only Frankis remained on the map, and that she could recognize. She gaped, her eyes wide, and she breathed hard. The map zoomed in further until her Alba Hive became visible: not just houses, but even the horses and people moving now and then.
Meriaduk was watching her, a smile on his lips. They are all so predictable, he thought.
It took more than ten minutes for Dochia to gather her thoughts. “How is this possible?”
“This is the great magic of the Serpent God,” Meriaduk boasted, “and only his priests are able to use it. In time, if you serve me well, you will become a priestess of the Great Serpent.”
Well, he may be right about the next God replacing Fate; Dochia thought, bitterly.
“There is no magic,” a voice spoke in her mind, in exactly the same way as the Maletera worked. “Welcome to the Sanctuary, Dochia.”
Chapter 23 – Saliné
At the Winter Solstice party, Saliné felt alive for the first time in almost four months. In keeping with his new rank, Aron had invited a lot of people, and she recognized many of them from years before, when they honored Mohor’s invitation. It was not easy for her to pass over that, but for four months she had only been able to speak with Aron, Bucur and the servants, and from time to time with her people in the market. She bought a lot of sweet things from Ferd, and many servants enjoyed her gifts, yet she could not trust them. Each time someone visited Severin, Saliné was packed off and sent to her suite. And even worse, in the two weeks before the party, she was confined to her room, talking only with Bucur and Gria. She was now like a caged animal finding itself suddenly free. To some guests, she looked like a strange curiosity, a relic from the past, and they chose to ignore her, but others, mostly women, were glad to meet her again.
Saliné could even dance. Most of the dances were with Bucur, but from time to time, he allowed others to invite her. She tried to guess if there was a tacit understanding between the young men who invited her and Bucur, but she could not discern it. Bucur reserved the third series of dances only for him, and the last two of the five in the series had a rhythm that made her feel like she was running a mile. At the end, she burst into laughter as both of them breathed like two tired horses.
“Let’s go on the terrace,” he laughed too. “I feel like I’ve been in a sauna.”
Without waiting for her answer, he pulled her by the hand, and they went out. It was not yet fully dark, but the sky was starry, and under the full moon, the land, covered by the snow, reflected the light, making the palace look dreamlike. It was not as cold as she expected in a winter’s evening.
“I don’t remember the last time I danced like this,” he said, leaning his hands against the railing. “It seems that you are better trained than me.” He glanced at Saliné in the light coming from both torch and moon.
“As if I am not tired,” she laughed, and leaned against the railing too.
“Even the moon is laughing at me,” Bucur mused.
The cold sneaked into them, and after a while Saliné shivered. He passed his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She stiffened a bit, but the warmth of his body moved into hers. A memory of Codrin came to her from another life, and Saliné let her mind drift back in time. She almost physically felt Codrin behind her, and shivered again when Bucur kissed her neck. Eyes closed, she did as she had done many other times in the past months, let Bucur take what he wanted, trying to think of something else, and Bucur turned her slowly, searching for her lips while her arms laced mechanically around his neck. All her movements were nothing more than calculated reactions. She knew now exactly how much to give in her position as fiancée. Yet this time was different, even though she did not realize it. She felt so soft and so right in his arms, and her fingers were stroking the back of his neck. After the almost total isolation of the last two weeks, the fever of the party was going through her and, for the first time, she fully opened her mouth for him, and it did not take long to answer him, matching his passion with her own. Bucur felt it, and he used all his experience to make her body feel even more pleasant. His hands went all over her back, lower than he ever went before, then his left hand passed over her breast. It was a brief touch that ended before she could acknowledge it, yet a trace of pleasure lingered. Bucur embraced her tighter, and then released her slightly, and his hand went over her breast again. It stayed longer, yet again the hand left just before she could react. After a while, he did it once more, and this time his hand fully embraced her breast, fondling it gently, his thumb sweeping like a metronome over the thin silk. There was warmth in the wake of every touch, and her mind acknowledged it long after her body both felt it and enjoyed it.
“It’s getting cold,” he said when he felt her uneasiness. “Let’s go inside.”
He pulled her abruptly after him, and Saliné followed, a small part of her still lost in the memory of his warm embrace, feeling a faint dose of regret that it had ended. When they arrived close to a large column, he pulled Saliné behind it, and pressed her against the stone, his fingers playing on the back of her neck. He took her head between his palms, and his lips touched hers briefly, then he leaned back, staring at her. Breathing unevenly, she remained silent, her mouth half open. Their eyes still locked, his left hand caressed her face. He touched her lips for a while, before moving down her neck and chest. He cupped her breast and fondled it gently. Slowly, he leaned forward, taking over her mouth while her hands went around his neck.
The party continued, keeping her in a feverish state and, as usual, at sunset, when the party ended, Bucur escorted Saliné to her suite.
“I don’t remember ever dancing so much,” she said. “I barely can walk.”
“I can help with that.” Bucur lifted her in his arms and walked further. “Let’s hope that I don’t stumble,” he laughed.
“Please don’t,” she laughed too.
In her suite, the trembling light from two small lamps played in the corners, while the fire danced in the fireplace. Gently, Bucur set her on the fur in front of the fireplace and kissed her neck.
“Let’s continue the party,” he said, and took a bottle of wine and two glasses from the table. Checking the temperature of the bottle to check if Gria had carried out his orders, he nodded, satisfied. “This is a special wine,” he gave one glass to Saliné. “It’s a bit sweet. It works well after dancing. Cheers, my betrothed,” he smiled warmly and they tapped glasses. A delicate crystalline sound filled the room. “It resembles your laughter,” he said and tapped the glasses again. “It was a nice party and, out of all the women there, you shone the most. All the men envied me for having such a beautiful fiancée.”
“Maybe,” Saliné said, neutrally.
“There is no maybe,” Bucur touched her chin, raising her head, and kissed her. “You were the most beautiful woman there.”
“I liked the two last dances from the third series, but I’ve never heard them before.”
“They are from Tolosa. I was there once. Five years ago,” he said after a short pause. “Or six. The orchestra came from Leyona, and there they know some southern dances.” He moved his body, and took Saliné in his arms. “We should go to the south sometime. Maybe after the wedding. While you still can,” he smiled, his hand caressing her belly with soft circular moves that grew larger until his fingers stroked her breasts gently. “I am sure that we will have a lot of children. What do you want to have first?”
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