What has Tam done to them? The poor thing is no demon.
A familiar commanding voice. “Silence!”
Yore.
The fetishman approached the stricken bird, his naked foot pushing hither and thither. “An abomination,” he said finally. “A fell beast brought to us on the back of an evil squall… The witch’s familiar. I will send men to build a pyre.” He turned to leave.
“Is that all?” cried an old woman.
“What else would you have me do? Tamina is gone. She raised the storm to protect herself. We all witnessed what she did on the promontory. The lightning. The strange winds, and this… monster. If I had not seen those evil things with my own eyes…” The Yore’s head twitched from side to side. Grizzled jaws clamped together, trying to contain his fury, his silver hair blowing in the breeze. “Even I, the Yore, once thought Tamina was innocent. A sign of witchery if there ever was one.”
“We have only your word that she perished,” the old woman continued unabashed, naked hatred showing in the bulge of her jowls.
“The witch is gone,” he snapped, his rage forming sharp jutting words. “We must concentrate on rescuing crops and finding our animals. We cannot let this… thing divert us. Tamina is no more. Now leave this place.”
A thin man, weaselly and unshaven, with a pitted brown face and the sly stare of a sulky dog, stepped forward. “Can we be sure? You have seen how she is with animals. How they flock to her. If she can control beasts like this… who knows what she is capable of?”
Tamina had not disguised her affinity with beasts and birds… and couldn’t have if she’d tried. All creatures had a presence that glowed within her mind. Vicious dogs slunk at her side, feral cats jumped to her lap, and wild animals were drawn to her. The islanders had noticed this talent. It made them hate her even more.
Tam is not witch. Is not.
“She is dead, I tell you,” spat the Yore. Quick doubt crossed his face. “She must be.”
“How do we know you are not still bewitched?” the man continued, glancing around for support. “This beast tried to save her, and paid with its life. Nothing is free from her witchery.”
Tam never seen such bird before. Tam would remember.
The thin man continued, his emaciated arms waving like threatening sticks. “She has ways about her. Ways to fool and cheat. We cannot be sure she is dead until we see her corpse.”
The chief fetishman raised his ceremonial whip and waited for silence. “I am the Yore. You will listen to me and obey. Tamina is gone. I threw her into the sea myself. She can no longer disturb our crops… nor our beds.”
The man, who had been vociferous just moments ago, stared at the ground.
“We need no more distractions at this time. We must pull together until the sun becomes our friend and ally once again. Be assured. My fetishmen will not rest until we find her remains.”
Voices rose around him.
“Enough! I will send men to come and destroy this thing shortly.”
The islanders begrudgingly left the beach. For long minutes, Yore lingered, his eyes on the dead beast before him.
Tamina experienced an overwhelming desire to reveal herself to him, to put her arms around his troubled shoulders. But she remembered the lash of his whip, and how he tried to kill her. He strode away on long legs.
She emerged and examined the dead bird. Its sheer size astounded her. Huge enough for a man to ride on—feathers as long as she was tall. The beak lay open, the mammoth head tilted to one side.
Poor baby.
Tamina stroked at the bushy, down-like hair surrounding the creature’s bull neck. Her fingers found something hard among the tiny feathers. She brushed the fur aside, and was shocked to find a leather strap leading to a saddle hidden under the ruined wings.
“Oh my, oh my!” The bird had a rider. And Yore know this. He must. Yore so very, very clever. Tam will find the rider. Before Yore. The rider can be Tam’s friend and come live with Tam in the cave of the Lady. We can…
Tamina was startled by a barely audible groan. A whimper nearly lost in the chatter of the waves and the constant sea breeze. She strained her ears. Long moments passed, long enough to make her think she had imagined the sound… and there it was again. Less of a whimper, more of a gasp. She ran into the ravaged jungle, green eyes searching the mostly destroyed foliage. With a shriek, she spied a man covered in mud and sand entangled within a morass of leaves and seaweed.
iv. Prim
The cave of the Lady was at the far end of the island. Despite Yore telling her she was slow-witted, Tamina was not dim enough to take the unconscious man to her special beach of ancient and foreboding heads. No one know about the cave of the Lady. Tam’s new special place.
The rider was small in stature and surprisingly light, but he was still a difficult burden. After a long, hard struggle, Tamina finally laid the mud-covered man on the floor of the cave. He was muscular with well-proportioned limbs, wearing a body-hugging leather suit.
Water seeped from the walls to form a trickling stream. Wetting her hands, Tamina washed the man down. A shock of blond hair. A kind, smooth, sun-browned feminine face. The leather suit was more impressive once cleaned, mimicking the colors of the bird now lying dead on the beach. She turned the man over, cleaning quickly, revealing a long, black-stained gash from shoulder to hip. As if a giant claw had raked the flesh. The wound smelled odd and frightened her.
Tam must get him out of dirty clothes.
When she unstrapped the rider from his suit, it became apparent that this was no man at all.
A handsome woman.
Her underweaves were crafted from a sheer material Tamina had never seen before. Soft and yielding to her fingertips. A cloudy green stone, flat like sea-smoothed shale, hung around her neck on an ornately woven leather band. Upon it was engraved a majestic flying bird. Tamina cleaned the rider’s wound as best she could, then took the fine leather suit outside to dry in the sun.
Other than the gash, the rider was unharmed. The injury was skin-deep, yet…
She dying. Tam feels it. Something cold and frozen. Ice… like Yore said.
Death always showed itself to Tamina. A shadow. Darkening as the moment approached.
The rider will soon pass. Tam don’t want her to die.
Tamina’s mind flashed back to her childhood, to the dreadful time when everything changed. She had lived on an isolated farm with her mother and a small herd of gutes—hardy goat-like animals used for milk and meat. Tamina helped to raise them, nurturing and loving them. When one of her favorites fell ill, she saw the shadow of death growing in the young animal and decided… to make it go away. Prim had come to her then. Her older sister who told her so many delightful things.
Wonderful, beautiful Prim.
Mother would laugh at Tamina, saying: “If I’d had another brat like you, I’d know. Do not speak to me about your imaginary sister again.” But Prim was real. Tamina recalled a face framed by raven-black hair; calm, pale blue, haunting eyes; and a sense of security and peace. And Tamina would never forget her last words.
You Must Not Try And Save The Gute, Tam, Prim had said. It Is Too Dangerous.
“I want to try.”
No, Tam. You Must Let The Creature Go.
“I don’t want to, Prim, I don’t. It’s not fair.”
The Gute Is A Lowly Creature. You Do Not Understand What You Are Doing.
“We can’t let things die. I can’t let him die.”
All Things End Little One. Even I Will Not Live Forever.
“NO!”
It Is Too Risky. You Cannot Do This.
“You can’t stop me…”
Tamina possessed no knowledge of what she did to the wretched creature. She retained a lingering memory of the tiny animal sucking greedily at her life force… of Prim screaming at her to stop… and then blackness. She awoke some weeks later from a coma. It took her months to learn to talk again, to walk. Her mother, angry and confused, had ki
lled the now-healed gute and made Tamina promise to never, ever repeat what she had done.
How mother found out about the gute, Tam does not know, but something bad happened that day. Something made Mother scared of Tam. Something changed Tam forever.
Prim did not return, and Tamina had been haunted by a dreadful loneliness ever since.
Tam misses her so…
The rider, moaning in the quiet of the Lady’s cave, broke her reverie. Tamina clamped her jaws together and placed both hands upon the wound, pressing down, pressing hard.
Tam killed death before; why not again? And if Tam die? This girl can live in Tam’s place.
Where Tamina’s fingers touched the dreadful gash, there came an answering coldness and an urgent, intense, prickling need. Her strength trickled into the stricken woman, who murmured, gaining vigor from her touch. The heat of Tamina’s life force melting the ice away. Tamina sat on a massive reservoir of vitality, but too quickly, the trickle turned into a steady flow that became a deluge.
Tam won’t let the bad thing happen again… Tam won’t.
Reaching out with her mind, she found the glow of other life—birds, insects, small animals, fish in the sea—and desperate for survival, Tamina drank from them all. Made suddenly strong, she pushed the grasping girl away and fell into unconsciousness.
v. Of Olden and Savancery
A scream woke Tamina.
“The Olden,” explained the rider a few minutes later, after she’d regained her composure. “Waking here, I was startled, afraid; and to find her face staring at me…”
The woman had at first spoken in the strangest of tongues, but after a few sentences from Tamina, the rider had recognized her language. Her accent was beguiling.
Tamina rubbed her temples, still dazed. “The Lady in the Glass is an Olden?” Her voice sounded crass by comparison. Loud, ungainly. But it was more than just the difference in their voices; Tamina’s senses were amplified. The colors in the gloomy cave also seemed vibrant and alive.
The rider’s full lips pursed into a smile. “You have not been told of the Olden who keep vigil over the Gyre. Ancients from time long past?”
“The Gyre?” said Tamina from a dream.
“It is the name of our world and everything within, including you, and I, and… the Olden.”
“Tam knows nothing…” Tamina stopped in mid-sentence, as if she was hearing her words for the first time. “I know nothing of the greater world, of the Gyre. Just this island and the ever-present ocean. And as for the Lady in the Glass—the Olden—her cavern did not reveal itself until last night. You must think me naïve and unworldly.”
“I think no such thing…What is your name?”
“Tamina,” she whispered, fearing to make eye contact, hiding behind her long heavy hair. “And your name? Who are you that rides on the back of the wind?”
“I’m called Ennea, and I once flew Mighty Almeera.” Her eyes were open, but Ennea’s attention was fixed upon an inner world. A tear caught at the side of her eye.
“Your flying beast?”
Ennea stared past Tamina in an unfocused way; a frown playing upon the smooth skin of her face. “Yes, that was his name before last night, before…” She put her head into her hands and sobbed helplessly.
Tamina held her close while the grief-stricken woman cried into her shoulder. The light of life in her was strong. Tamina sensed power in Ennea, unlike anything she had experienced before. “You were injured. I… I healed you,” Tamina admitted. “A long black wicked gash. Where did it come from?”
“You healed such a wound?” said the rider, glancing up into Tamina’s face.
Tamina turned away. The magnificent woman had glimpsed the hue of her witchery.
“Look at me, Tamina. Show me your eyes.”
“I’m ashamed of them.”
“Ashamed?”
Ennea pushed aside Tamina’s lank locks to reveal twin green eyes sparkling in the calming light of the cave of the Lady.
“By the Gods… you are Savant!”
“What?”
Ennea flung herself to the cavern’s floor, covering her head in supplication, trembling.
“A Savant? I don’t understand.”
The girl trembled. “You have the mark of the Chosen—a gift from the Gyre.”
“It is no gift. All here hate and despise me. I am an outcast. They tried to kill me… Please get up.”
Ennea gradually unfurled, a mixture of fear and respect mingling uneasily upon her even features. “You have not heard about the war? Of the evil that has engulfed the Gyre? Of Black Savancery and who you are?”
Tamina shook her head as if to rid it of a cloying fog. Her words no longer came in a muddle. “I know of the shorter days, the colder weather, and something loathsome on the breeze. The islanders are a foolish, superstitious people. They call me a witch and blame me for their misfortune.”
“That is your Savancery,” Ennea said with reverence. “Savancery reveals things to you, gives you control and influence. Your needs and hungers are enlarged. Your desires intensified. But White Savants are rare and their powers dwindling. Our world is in danger, Tamina Savant, yet she is still trying to talk to us, to aid us against a dreadful threat.”
“She speaks to us?”
“Her voice was lost millennia ago. Savants can sometime feel the Gyre’s presence, her urging, but it is becoming harder and harder to discern her needs. In truth, we are losing the war.”
The face of Prim popped into Tamina’s mind. Did the Gyre speak to me as a child? As Prim? Could it be possible?
“Tell me, Ennea, how did you get here, to this lost, lonely island?”
Ennea reacted as if this were a command, not a polite request, and stood to quick attention, clasping the cloudy green stone worn upon her breast and closing her eyes.
“I was on routine patrol, a few days out of Cairn,” she began. “We had recently received reports of a Valkreed attack in one of the outer kingdoms—and there is nothing like a squadron of flying birds to put fear and panic to rest. The patrol passed with little incident, and we were heading back to our makeshift eyrie after a long satisfying day on the wing, when Mighty Almeera gave a warning shriek. Alerted, we broke formation to take our fighting stations, but the skies were clear. I had never seen him so agitated. Before I could calm him, a powerful shaft of air hit us from below, lofting us high into the sky, leaving the patrol and the other riders behind. So strong was the wind that Mighty Almeera furled his wings for fear the updraft might wrench them from his body. We were pushed into the black space between the topmost clouds and the faraway night-sun. The peculiar envelope of air protected us from the cold, otherwise we would have surely perished.”
Ennea stood rock still, but a shudder passed through her frame.
“The sun that sits at the center of our world appears like a long tube from the ground,” she continued. “And as we approached, flung upward at dreadful speed, it revealed itself as a thing of colossal dimensions and stunning beauty. A cylinder of purest jet. I was frightened for our lives, wondering what evil assailed us, but I could not hide my awe at such a vision. We drew ever closer and I noticed the blackened exterior was discolored. Thousands and thousands of shadowy creatures festooned the sun’s cool surface—feeding there. Eating. I have seen many evils, Tamina. But these things… I possess no words to describe them.” Ennea fell into silence as she relived the experience.
“Please continue,” urged Tamina, drawn in by her extraordinary story.
“These creatures were similar to the Valkreed, but larger. So much larger. And where they converged? The sun was consumed, eroded. Whatever force pushed us forward wanted me to see this, Tamina. I’m sure of it.”
Ennea opened her eyes, and Tamina glimpsed the horror she had seen lurking within them.
“An unimaginable time later, we left the sun, plummeting toward what is the roof of my world. Through angry clouds and beating rain. Mighty Almeera found his wings again,
struggling within terrifying winds. Below us, overwhelmed by a swirling tempest, was the expanse we call the ‘Never-Ending Ocean’. I have often stared at your sea, Tamina, at the storms silently passing across its vast breadth. To experience such a squall in person was a different matter. But there was another danger. The Valkreed.”
“What is this Valkreed you speak of?”
Ennea took a deep breath. “’Tis a creature unlike anything found in nature. All claws, teeth, and cowardice.”
“That is no description.”
“I’m sorry, Savant Tamina. They defy all words. I have seen them many times, but my eyes refuse to focus upon them. The Valkreed blur, they whirl, winking in and out of existence. Their presence is accompanied by unspeakable dread. They do not normally attack our birds, for they are fierce adversaries, but something forced them to pursue us. Some greater evil. I commanded Mighty Almeera to fight, but… he ignored my order. He flew ever downward, the Valkreed at his tail. And then I spotted… an isle amidst an angry sea. Mighty Almeera flew with a desperate purpose. Down he went, down he plummeted toward this island. I caught a glimpse—a promontory jutting into the crashing waters like a knife and a ring of flaming torches—and then the Valkreed attacked, raking Almeera with their dreadful claws, dashing him from the sky. His final act was to save me, twisting himself around as we crashed into rocks. The last sound that reached my ears was the snap of Mighty Almeera’s neck… before I succumbed to my wounds.”
Ennea’s hand leapt from her amulet to grasp forlornly at the air. “Mighty Almeera was my true friend. He would not sacrifice himself unnecessarily. The Gyre needed us to come here, Tamina, I’m sure of it. Now tell me, for I must understand: how did you mend my wound? The Valkreed are diseased. No power in Savancery can heal an injury from such a beast.”
Tamina’s eyes widened in horror. Her memory came flooding back. The animals…
“What is it?” Ennea asked with confusion and fear.
Tamina ran to the cave entrance and climbed down to the beach. Hundreds of fish floated dead on the surface of the sea. Birds lay sprawled in twisted ruin. Instead of the steady chirrup of insects and the buzzing of flies, the air was quiet. “No!” she squealed, in full realization of the destruction her healing had wrought.
From the Indie Side Page 17