The Simoqin Prophecies

by Samit Basu

  They waited until darkness set in, keenly scanning the woods for any sign of the giant panther. Kirin and Maya sat under the dark boughs of a tree.

  ‘You saved my life,’ said Maya.

  ‘I did nothing,’ said Kirin. ‘I did nothing today, I did nothing in the library. I pushed you off the horse when I saw the thing jumping, that’s all. Even Amloki could have done that. And you saved everyone with your fireballs after that.’ You are in deadly peril, and so are those who travel with you.

  ‘But I saw you conjuring up a fireball too, Kirin. Why didn’t you throw it?’

  ‘Well, Asvin had stuck his sword into it and you had already hit it. It would have been like flogging a corpse. And what is worse, somehow I feel it’s my fault that it attacked in the first place. The book warned me I would place the ones I care about in deadly danger if I stayed. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.’ Do not gamble with the lives of those dear to you, for danger will seek you out wherever you go.

  ‘Rubbish. The knight warned us, remember? Before the book said anything. There’s absolutely no reason for you to feel guilty.’

  But Kirin was silent, looking at Red Pearl stalking around, pretending to feel no pain, and at Spikes, brooding under a tree, flashing his claws from time to time.

  Asvin walked up to them.

  ‘That was a very brave thing to do,’ said Maya to Asvin. ‘You saved Red Pearl’s life. She will not forget that.’

  Asvin smiled and sat down next to them. ‘I wish I could have pulled the sword out. It was very dear to me, and was supposed to possess magical powers.’ He sighed, leaned back against the tree and looked upwards. ‘The south will know the cat again. I wonder who that man on the bridge was, and why he had no memory of the last few centuries,’ he said. ‘Maybe one day we will come back here and find out.’

  Amloki joined them. The little khudran looked petrified.

  ‘Unless,’ said Asvin, ‘unless he was the Silver Dagger in disguise. I have long suspected that he is following us secretly. I have heard he is a master of guile, and that could have been his way of warning us.’

  They stared at him, surprised. ‘Surely he could have left us a little note, or told Red Pearl or something,’ said Maya.

  ‘The old man at the bridge?’ asked Amloki. ‘The Silver Dagger in disguise?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I have never seen the Silver Dagger,’ said Amloki. ‘But I have heard his voice, once, and it was not the voice of the knight on the bridge. Of course, the Dagger is supposed to be a wonderful actor, but I do not think it was him. He would have warned us more clearly.’

  ‘When did you hear the Dagger’s voice?’ asked Asvin. And regretted it immediately, because Amloki started telling them a long and involved story about the Dagger. Asvin remembered the week he had spent listening to Dagger stories while coming to Kol, and Kirin and Maya smiled as they saw his dismayed expression. The khudran prattled on.

  An hour later, Gaam returned with bad news. Asvin’s horse and one of the spare horses were missing, and they now had no blankets. They had initially planned to travel to the very edge of the Bleakwood, where Mantric was supposed to have sent people to wait for them. But Red Pearl was in no condition to gallop, and they had lost some time. They rose, and traveled in silence, Asvin sharing Amloki’s horse, the horror of the nundu still fresh in their minds. But they soon realized going further was impossible; it was very dark, Red Pearl kept stumbling and falling, and Spikes was in no condition to match the horses’ pace. Kirin looked at him, then at Maya and thought about Bali in the library and about the giant beast leaping towards her, fangs gleaming. It was all his fault. Get out of this wood fast, Kirin. You are in deadly danger.

  As night fell, no one seemed to be in the mood for talk – Kirin and Spikes had both withdrawn into their own little shells. Gaam and Asvin walked around worriedly, listening carefully to every noise, every whisper echoing through the Bleakwood. The spells Maya had cast on Red Pearl had made the centauress very sleepy. She sat on the ground now, her magnificent muscles slack, her head bowed, and the sight of her saddened their hearts.

  Gaam and Asvin kept watch.

  It was midnight. Spikes was awake, standing crouched and menacing over the huddled forms of Amloki and Red Pearl. The horses, tied to a tree, were restless and tugging at their ropes from time to time. Kirin sat with his back to a tree a little distance away.

  He took the book out, and it glowed as he touched it, but the glow was dim and remote, and the page was blank as he opened it. There was no voice in his head. But you will not trust me. You are being hunted, and you must live, Kirin. He closed the book and put it inside.

  He could not risk more danger to Maya. He had been nothing but trouble to her all these years. That creature could have killed all of them.

  Seconds later, a warm, slender body crawled under his cloak.

  ‘I’m cold, and I can’t sleep,’ whispered Maya, ‘Talk to me.’

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  She put her head on his shoulder. ‘Nothing. Just stop worrying about me. And stop blaming yourself for everything.’

  He put his arm around her. ‘And what would Asvin say if he saw you here?’

  ‘Why would he say anything? For all you know, he’s running around after more singing women even as we speak.’

  ‘Jealous?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘But that’s not why you’re here.’

  Maya laughed. ‘It’s the cloak,’ she replied, ‘I’m just a girl trying to get a little sleep.’

  They sat in silence for a while. He sensed her smile in the darkness. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I am your best friend, aren’t I?’ she murmured.

  'Yes.’'

  'And you do love me very much, don't you?'

  'You know I do.'

  'And you’re not going to run away tonight, are you?'

  He said nothing.

  ‘Kirin?’

  He looked at her and met her eyes.

  ‘I’m not awake,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ she said, ‘neither am I. But promise me you’ll come to Bolvudis.’

  ‘I will come to Bolvudis.’

  ‘All right, then,’ she hugged him. He held her, thinking of long afternoons in the library, midnight walks in the streets of Kol and exploding crucibles in the Fragrant Underbelly. A little while later, soft, regular breathing told him she was asleep.

  Yes, he would go to Bolvudis. Perhaps even with them. But first he needed to hear what the book had to say. Yes, he would come to Bolvudis. But not with her. Not until he was sure that all the terrible things that had happened to her over the last few days were not his fault. But he knew in his heart that they were. You were left behind for a purpose. You were left behind by me, to finish the task that I began.

  He picked her up and carried her to where Amloki and Red Pearl were sleeping. He laid his cloak down on the ground and set her down upon it.

  He was no hero. And he knew she could take care of herself, but the memory of the springing panther was still fresh and painful. He had been warned, and she was dear to him. I am your father, Kirin, trust me once. And if he carried danger with him, he would carry it alone. Not alone. With Spikes. He did not trust the book, not yet. But he had wanted proof, and he had got proof. Not proof that the voice was telling the truth, but enough for him to believe that he should listen to whatever it had to say. Get out of this forest in secret. Take your pashan with you. Tell no one. That is of utmost importance. Tell no one. If he went to Bolvudis, they would make him stay.

  ‘Come, Spikes,’ he whispered.

  He looked at Maya, sleeping with a serene smile on her face. He looked at Asvin and Gaam, with their backs to the sleepers, sitting and talking about Avrantic politics. He sighed, bent, kissed Maya on the forehead and walked away. Spikes followed him silently.

  Suddenly a thought hit him – what if he never saw her again?

  He was being ridiculous. Of cou
rse he would see her again. He was being melodramatic, sentimental, sickening. He would be kissing her forehead next. He already had.

  It didn't mean anything. She was just the only friend he had. Apart from Spikes. Excessive dependence arising out of loneliness and lack of female companionship.

  He wished he could take her with him.

  Why not? She was only the best spellbinder in Enki, she wouldn’t even need protection. On the other hand, the only reason he was leaving was to save her from danger, which couldn’t be achieved by drawing her deeper in. How noble.

  But he wasn’t noble. He was just very scared. And it was time to go.

  He bent to kiss her again before he left, but stopped. He’d already done that. And Spikes would think he was crazy.

  He wasn’t even human. She knew that. It could never happen. And of course it was Asvin she liked – who wouldn’t. He ran bravely into the jaws of death and stuck his sword into monsters’ hearts.

  He don’t belong there. I shouldn’t even have been there. He was from another age, and he should have been with the other ravians, wherever they were. He wished he felt older. Age was supposed to bring wisdom.

  Red Pearl had said the Centaur Forests were pretty. And close by. Good.

  He clutched the bag containing the book close to his chest and walked eastwards, into the whispering night. Spikes followed him.

  Red Pearl waited a little while, and then opened her eyes. Kirin, too? Interesting. She got up, picked up her bow and a quiver full of arrows, and followed them. How considerate of them. They knew she wanted to go home. She smiled grimly.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  When the rest awoke, they found Asvin and Gaam sitting and looking at Spikes’ footprints, leading eastwards. Maya wanted to follow them and find out why they had gone, but both Gaam and Amloki said that Red Pearl had told them not to worry if she disappeared suddenly, because a call for Silver Phalanx work could come anywhere, at any time – they had ways of finding her. As for Kirin and Spikes, said Gaam, they were not directly involved with the quest, they had only come along as Maya’s friends and were perfectly free to leave whenever they wanted. And if they had gone to the Centaur Forests with Red Pearl they would be perfectly safe. Besides, it was only a short way to the coast now, and they could always send search parties later if necessary. Whoever Mantric had sent to wait for them would not wait indefinitely, so it would be wise to move on. Maya had to admit he was right, but she was very worried. Why had Kirin left? Had something else happened? Had the book said anything? He had promised to come to Bolvudis.

  But he was the most intelligent person she knew, and if he had gone, he must have found the proof he was looking for. He was not one to be swept away by emotion. She looked at Asvin. Or strange voices, she thought, and actually grinned. She had decided to forgive him for the maiden in the forest. After all, it was not as if he was supposed to lavish all his attention on her, and everyone knew that for some strange reason, Avrantic men were obsessed with fair skin.

  Asvin was very worried. He kept looking for paw-prints, and asking if Spikes could be trusted, and who Kirin really was, and why he had come in the first place. Maya told she couldn’t answer his questions, but he could rest assured that Kirin would never be an enemy, and that he always knew what he was doing. Asvin, who thought Maya knew everything, seemed to be satisfied with that.

  They set off. It was a two-hour ride to the coast, and now that Red Pearl and Spikes were no longer with them, they rode even faster, Asvin on Kirin’s horse. The Bleakwood was less forbidding now, as the fresh sea breeze in their faces swept away the evil memories of the last two days. The horses ran faster, sensing the change in the air, eager to be out of the old wood that was gloomy even under the morning sun. Even the trees around them seemed to accept that there was happiness outside the Bleakwood–at the edge of the Bleakwood, there were a few defiant, young trees that thrust their green boughs into the faces of their forbidding elders, fortified by the irreverence that the sea breeze brought them.

  As they left the Bleakwood, Asvin scanned the skies. Red Pearl had told him to beware of crows. But there were no crows anywhere, not above the Bleakwood, not above the green hills that marked the beginning of the Centaur Forests to their left, not high above in the sky. The ground was rocky now, and they rode through huge boulders, hearing the roar of the sea up ahead. The land sloped upwards, and they knew that they would see it in a little while, and the thought gladdened their hearts as they galloped up.

  Then suddenly, the Psomedean Ocean, blue and sparkling, vast and beautiful, stretched out in front of them. They tore down to the beach, reveling in sight of the bright, clean sand. They galloped eastwards, and soon they saw Bolvudis in the horizon, small and green under the sun. There was a mist around it.

  They all looked at Asvin, riding ahead, the wind in his hair, tall and straight on the brown horse as it streaked over firm sand, and knew in their hearts that he was a hero. If you looked that much like a thing, chances are you were it.

  Gaam called a halt. They stopped, watching foam-crested waves charge and hammer against a cliff in front of them, watching the beach run westwards for miles, a bright, endless yellow river of sand. They rested in the shadow of the cliff where Mantric’s men were supposed to meet them.

  They had planned to travel by night, to reach Bolvudis before dawn in secret. But they had been delayed, and if there had been a boat waiting for them, it was gone. ‘Is there any way we can send a message to Bolvudis?’ Gaam asked Amloki. ‘They send boats across occasionally, when they see a lot of actors have arrived, but that’s all,’ replied the khudran. ‘We’ll have to wait and hope they see us – Mantric has made a powerful telescope, so we shouldn’t have to wait long.’

  ‘You won’t have to wait at all,’ said a voice behind them. They turned, but there was no one there. No human, that is. A large, soulful-looking seagull sat on a rock, looking at them.

  ‘I’m Irik Seagull,’ he said, ‘former Airhead from Freegull Isle far away in the north. My interests include sky-diving, fishing and script-writing.’

  ‘Script-writing?’ asked Gaam.

  ‘Light romance,’ said Irik. ‘The Badshah sent my brother Stivin and me to welcome you last night. But you’re late, you know. The boat’s gone. But Stivin’s gone to get another one –always one for action, doesn’t talk much, my brother.’

  The travelers introduced themselves to Irik and started pulling packs off their horses. The horses were trained: they had journeyed through the Bleakwood before, and knew what they had to do. They would return to higher ground and move along the edge of the Bleakwood until they came to the Centaur Forests, where they would be taken care of.

  ‘So what is it that you write scripts for?’ Asvin asked Irik.

  ‘For the Muwi-visions, of course, what else is there?’

  ‘The what?’

  Irik looked shocked. ‘You don’t know what Muwi-visions are? The Badshah told me you were the best actors in the world! He said he was even thinking of paying you!’ He looked deeply suspicious.

  ‘Of course we know about Muwi-vision,’ said Gaam quickly, silencing Asvin with a look. It’s just that, well, it’s our first time here, and though, as you say, we are the world’s best actors, we thought we would like to learn all about it, while we wait – the boat is coming, yes? – while we wait for the boat, from one who is so obviously one of the most important people involved.’ He tried to look meek and humble.

  Soon they were listening intently as Irik explained the wonders of Muwi-vision to them. Amloki had told them that Mantric was called the Badshah of Bolvudis, but Mantric, in his messages to the Civilian, had said nothing about Muwi-vision. So enraptured were they in Irik’s tale that they didn’t notice another seagull, a large, inscrutable-looking wide-winged specimen, until he flew down next to Irik and said out of the corner of his beak, ‘Boat’s coming.’

  ‘Skuan frigate, like yesterday?’

  Maya looked at Asvin, seei
ng sudden suspicion forming in his mind. No, it couldn’t be a trick, she thought. But for all the seagull’s tales of imps and choreographed dances in artificial streets, she was not going to get on board a Skuan frigate, not unless she saw her father on it.

  ‘No. That’s busy, they’re seeing Olaf Hammerhead today. They’re sending the Dead River boat,’ replied Stivin.

  ‘But that’s really slow,’ said Irik.

  ‘Dolphins,’ said Stivin laconically and flew up into the air.

  He returned soon, sitting on the prow of a long, thin, flat boat heading towards them. There was a man standing at the far end, a tall, thin man – or was it a man? – clad in a flowing black robe. His head was covered in a black cowl, one like the monks of Ventelot of old. He held a pole in his hand, perhaps an oar, but he didn’t appear to be rowing. A very sinister and gloomy sight was he, looking completely out of place in the bright morning sunshine. Add a mist, thought Maya, or a swamp, make it evening, and he’d be really scary. The Dead River boat, nice name. But how was it moving? Dolphins, she remembered, looking at the boat skimming across the water towards them, dolphins must be pulling it underwater. Ingenious. Trust her father to come up with these things. Of course, when it reached shallower waters…

  The boat came closer. The man stuck an arm out from beneath his robe. Maya heard Asvin gasp, for it was not a human arm, it was a skeleton’s arm, one bony finger pointing towards them. The dolphins must have stopped swimming, because the boat was not moving any more, bobbing up and down dangerously as waves threatened to topple it over. The man finally stuck the pole into the shallow waters, found bottom and pulled, propelling the boat forwards to the beach.

  ‘Ab-abandon all hope, f-f-or I am D-d-death,’ the man said in a sepulchral voice.

  Maya saw Amloki smile, and she knew he had noticed it too–the robe had slipped back a little, and his real arm had appeared, clutching the bony toy and waving it about.

  ‘We can see your arm, Death,’ she called.