The Nivaka Chronicles Boxed Set

by Leslie E Heath

  Something brushed against his leg in the murk, and he leapt onto the path beside his friends.

  16

  Decisions

  Kiri knit scarf after scarf, her needles flying with the intensity of her anxiety. Eddrick had no idea what to expect of the ancients in a normal situation, and their case was anything but ordinary.

  He stood and stretched; the familiar movements calmed his frayed nerves. He completed the full range of stretches and flopped down on the chair next to his father. “Do you think they’ll call for us first thing in the morning, or make us wait all day?”

  Agommi shrugged and stared out the window. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen a case like this one, so I’m not sure how they’ll handle it. All the hearings I’ve been involved with have been spirits that got bored and broke the rules–they haunted places they had never been in life and created strife for the living. In those cases, the bored spirits are reincarnated to spend another lifetime in human form.”

  “Oh.” Kiri looked up from her knitting; her needles stopped for the first time all night. “I didn’t know it worked like that. Do they stay within their family line?”

  “Most of the time, they do.” He stood and drifted to the window. “I’ve only seen them send someone off to a different line once, and that was because the spirit did some awful things to a group of travelers solely because of their birthplace. The ancients sent him to live in that village so he could learn humility.”

  Eddrick grinned. "That sounds like a reasonable punishment." His smile faded, and he drifted close to his father. "You don't think we'll be in trouble for helping Aibek last year, do you?"

  “No. You had permission before you acted, so you’ll be fine there.” He patted Aibek’s shoulder and turned back to the view of the night sky. “I’m more worried about their reaction to the spying. They seemed unhappy that you had discovered this in the first place.”

  The silence stretched. Eddrick couldn’t think of anything but the bizarre meeting two days before. What would the ancients decide?

  The seconds turned to hours as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Eddrick paced, stared out the window, and paced some more, while Kiri knitted a dozen hats and scarves for the orphans in Xona, and Agommi sat, unmoving as a statue. He didn’t blink or breathe.

  A knock at the door startled Eddrick, and he jumped to the door and jerked it open. All six of the ancients hovered in the hallway, staring at him with their white, pupil-less eyes.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” the tall one whispered. “But we wanted to speak with you in private.”

  Eddrick froze, staring at the assembled ancients. The tall one nodded toward the sitting room, and Eddrick shook himself. He swung the door open wider and retreated into the room. The spirits drifted through the door and the bright afternoon light rendered them nearly invisible. Eddrick stood in front of the group, and Agommi and Kiri took their places beside him.

  The air caught in his throat and he fought the urge to clear it while he waited.

  "We have discussed your situation at great length," the short, dusty-looking spirit said. His voice was thin, and Eddrick leaned forward to hear him better.

  The tall spirit drifted forward. “We have decided that we need more information. We cannot grant or deny your request until we know more.”

  He sighed, and the spirit behind him moved to the front. “The charges you have brought against this Helak are grave indeed, and we must see with our own eyes if this is truly the case.”

  Agommi gasped. “Your Eminence, sir, are you sure that’s wise? You need the protections of the city, do you not?”

  The spirit chuckled hollow and mirthless. “We will not go, but one of our younger counterparts will accompany you. He is able to communicate with us, even over hundreds of miles. We will see what he sees. This is the best we can do. You will leave at first light.”

  Without another sound, they filed out of the room and down the hall, leaving Eddrick stunned. He glanced over at Kiri and Eddrick, whose faces mimicked the incredulity on his own.

  Eddrick stared after the ancients. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, and Kiri jumped. She sank into the chair by the fire and cradled her head in her hands.

  “I want to see my son. Why won’t they take our word for it? Surely no one would make up a story such as this, right?”

  Eddrick rushed to her side. His disappointment mirrored hers; he had hoped to be back in Nivaka by nightfall, but instead, would be preparing for yet another journey.

  * * *

  “Hey, Ahren! Wait for me!”

  Ahren heard her friend but didn't stop. She continued her slow progress toward the Pavilion, and the ceremony she had done her best to prevent–or at least avoid. For days, she had argued, pleaded, and cried that Aibek wasn't dead, that they should wait a few more days until her father could get the forest to answer his questions, but she had failed.

  Today, under the noon sun in the cold and wind, her father would pronounce Aibek, Serik, and Kai as lost or dead, and the procession would begin. She swallowed against the knot of tears in her throat, clenched her jaw, and kept her eyes straight ahead. She couldn't handle Tamyr's gloating.

  “Can I walk with you?” Tamyr’s voice was soft.

  Wary, Ahren glanced over. “Sure.”

  Tamyr wiped Ahren’s cheek with a worn handkerchief. “Have you been crying? Why?”

  “I don’t want to go over this again today.” She kept her back straight and her head high, trudging ever closer to the unthinkable.

  Too soon, she reached the edge of the Pavilion, where fairies dressed in drab browns and grays ushered villagers into chairs arranged by section, much like the seating in the Meeting Hall. Villagers and council members milled about, many crying openly or wiping at tears with wilted handkerchiefs. Ahren avoided meeting anyone’s eyes and made her way to the front where her mother sat huddled alone.

  These last days had been tortuous as her father had tried to contact the spirits of the forest for information on Aibek’s group. Ahren didn’t know a single other person who shared her conviction that Aibek, Serik, Kai, and the elf were still alive. She couldn’t explain it, but deep down she knew they would come home.

  Swiping at her tears again, she flopped onto the chair next to her mother.

  This shouldn’t be happening.

  But her protests and arguments over the past several days had gone unheeded, and the time for the ceremony had arrived. The villagers filed quietly into the Pavilion, took their seats, and waited for the service to begin. No one spoke. The space filled with the sobbing, sniffling grief of her people.

  Under the grief, Ahren sensed a current of desperation. What would happen now? Villagers had asked that question thousands of times, and no one had an answer. Aibek had gone into the forest to convince the Bokinna to help them defeat Helak. Had he succeeded? Had he failed? No one knew.

  No one truly knows if he’s dead.

  The angry thought popped into her mind, and she pushed it away. The only thing that would convince anyone now would be Aibek's return.

  The Gadonu, her father, stepped onto the stage where the banquet tables usually stayed, wearing the many-layered green robes of his station. His face was ruddy, and his eyes were red and raw. This was hard for him, too.

  “Citizens, friends, thank you for coming here today.”

  Her father’s booming voice held none of its usual good cheer, the melancholy sound bringing fresh tears to her eyes. A sob caught in her raw throat and she dropped her gaze to her shaking hands.

  “As you are aware, Aibek, Kai, Serik, and Aylen set out from our steps eleven days ago. No word has reached us of their wellbeing, but we have received powerful evidence of their demise. It is with heavy hearts that we assemble here to mourn our friends and begin the process of moving forward.”

  The ringing in her ears drowned out her father’s words as Ahren leaned over and cried into her mother’s shoulder. The comforting arm around her shoulder
s did nothing to numb the pain; instead, the tears flowed faster than ever.

  At some signal Ahren didn’t hear, all the assembled villagers stood. She hurried to comply, realization dawning. They would walk to the lake for the funeral ceremony. But, why? There were no bodies for a pyre, no corpses to shower with flowers and autumn leaves. What would they do instead?

  She followed her mother out of the Pavilion and out of the Square, down the stairs and through the forest. Elves and dwarves watched the somber procession, not bothering to conceal their presence behind the trees and brush.

  Once everyone had reassembled by the water, her father spoke to the crowd. His voice buzzed in her ears, but she couldn’t distinguish individual words. Instead, she focused on the sounds of the forest: the flap of a bird’s wings as it flew overhead, the wind rustling the few remaining leaves on the trees.

  Closing her eyes, she lifted her face into the cold stinging wind, letting it dry the hot tears. She stood until her legs went numb and grit filled her swollen eyes. She worked to ignore the words of friends and council members as they stood in front of the crowd and relayed their favorite memories of the three missing travelers.

  At last, the speeches drew to an end, and the villagers filed forward to drop a single flower onto the waves. A gentle current pulled them out toward the lake's center, a silent line of color dotting the blue water. Ahren waited her turn, stepped forward, and knelt on the sandy bank.

  “I know you’re coming home,” she whispered, dropping an orange flower onto the lake.

  17

  Cave

  Aibek startled awake, alone in the night. The darkness was a palpable thing, pressing in close around him. Where was he? Certainly not at home. For some reason, he was propped up against something hard, with a blanket wrapped around his neck to keep his spine aligned. He yawned and stretched. Pain shot through his ribs and his right leg and the encounter with the emrialk flooded his memory. His breath caught in his throat. Brief flashes of memories floated into his mind: Serik tending his wounds, whispered words, the pungent odor of herbal treatments, the cycling of light.

  How long had he been unconscious? And where were the others? He focused on his surroundings, barely making out the shapes of trees in the darkness. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.

  Below him, a branch moved and leaves rustled, and Kai’s face appeared beside Aibek.

  “Hey! You’re awake! Really awake this time. How do you feel? Do you want some water?”

  “Yes,” Aibek croaked. His throat was on fire and his tongue stuck to the insides of his mouth. He took the water skin Kai offered and gulped until he’d emptied it.

  When he’d finished, he handed the skin back to Kai, grinning at the expression on his friend’s face.

  “I guess you were thirsty.”

  Aibek laughed. “Yes, I was. How long was I out?”

  “You’ve been in and out for a day and a half. You had us worried. How do you feel?”

  “Like something beat me to a bloody pulp.” Reaching down, he rubbed the thick bandage over his calf. “How bad is it?”

  “As long as you don’t take a fever, you’ll heal. You have three cuts in the leg, but none of them are dangerously deep. Besides that, you’ve got some gashes on your head–Serik stitched those up–and some bruised ribs. You’ll heal; it’s gonna hurt for a while, though. Here, have some jerky. You must be hungry. I have to keep watch. It’s good to see you awake.” He handed Aibek a bundle of jerky and disappeared into the night.

  The light grew until the brilliant pinks and oranges of dawn illuminated the sky, and Aibek climbed down to stretch. Searing pain shot through his right leg with every movement, and his ribs ached. It would be slow going, but they’d lost two days of travel to the emrialk. They didn’t have time to wait for him to heal.

  The air was fresher there; the musty sickness hadn't wholly obliterated the earthy scent of the forest, and Aibek inhaled. Closing his eyes, he stretched his senses out into the Tsari, listening for the whispers of the trees. They were close to their destination, of that he was certain. Would the Bokinna send her protectors after them? Or would she leave them to their own devices? Had the emrialk been one of her protectors, attacking the travelers when they got too close? Was it still close by, waiting for them to come out of the tree? He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and listened to the breeze whistling through the barren branches above.

  He stood, leaning against the tree with his arms outstretched, and felt the forest awakening around him.

  “You… are… near.”

  The voice whispered on the wind, and Aibek’s arms erupted in gooseflesh. Would he ever get used to that? He took another deep breath, pausing at the flash of pain in his ribs, and maintained his silent pose, open to whatever message the forest had to convey.

  He waited until the birds started chirping in the treetops and his outstretched arms grew heavy and ached.

  “What about your protectors?” He kept his voice soft, confident the forest would hear.

  “You will be…” The halting voice trailed off, and Aibek’s eyes popped open as he strained frantically for the rest.

  “What? We will be what? Attacked? Safe?” Dead? He had tensed and dropped his arms. He closed his eyes again and forced the fear from his mind. Valasa had taught him that he wouldn’t be able to hear the forest’s message unless he emptied his thoughts.

  “Safe.” The voice vanished.

  Aibek felt it the moment the being turned away from him, marked by a bereft loneliness unlike anything he had felt before. At least he had the forest’s promise of safety, for what it was worth. The protectors that guarded the Bokinna wouldn’t come after him, but there were still plenty of other things to worry about in the early morning light. His stomach snarled; the jerky hadn’t been enough to sate his hunger. Maybe he could catch one of those small creatures rummaging in the brush for breakfast.

  By the time the others climbed out of the tree, he had found a sturdy branch and fashioned a crutch, snared two rabbits, and built a small fire. The warmth was heavenly in the morning chill, and Aibek sat close to the flames as he cut the twigs and leaves from the crutch-branch. He had retrieved his pack from the tree’s upper branches. It bore new scrapes and scratches in the oiled leather, but the straps–and contents–were intact. Someone had rummaged through the bag, though, and the packet of herbs now sat on top of his clothes and blankets.

  Good. Serik must have used those.

  He grinned and set about snaring something to eat.

  “That smells amazing, but do you think it’s wise to make a fire?” Kai leaned over the fire and sniffed the sizzling meat. “Won’t you draw the emrialk back to us?”

  “Perhaps. But we won’t get far without a decent meal in us, either. We need to keep up our strength if we’re going to make it through this jungle.” Aibek smiled and pulled a hunk of meat off the smaller rabbit. He popped the morsel into his mouth and offered another chunk to his friend.

  Once they had eaten their fill, they put out the fire and continued on their journey. Aibek and Serik helped each other over ravines and downed trees. Should he tell his mentor about the conversation with the forest? What about the others? He didn’t want anyone to let their guard down. It wouldn’t do to assume they were safe and run straight into a bear–or worse, the emrialk. No, it was better to keep the assurance of safety to himself.

  Something made snuffling noises close behind them in the brush, and he glanced back. Leaves moved, and a twig snapped, but the creature stayed concealed in the thick undergrowth. He would tell them about talking to the forest later, maybe after they had met with the Bokinna and were on their way back home.

  Aibek took the lead, crutching slowly through the thickening undergrowth. The hills were steeper there, the trees not quite so tall. By afternoon, Aibek heard the rush of water. It was stronger than the sounds of a stream, and wilder than the river had been. Whatever it was, it was big, and it moved fast. The sun was high overhead when
the path broke free of the brush and disappeared into the stony banks of a rushing river. Near the center of the broad waterway, huge boulders churned the water into a furious white froth. The cold spray spattered against Aibek’s face, and he turned back toward his friends.

  “Well? Any ideas?”

  Kai shook his head. “We certainly can’t cross that.”

  Serik stared at the water; his brow lowered in confusion. "Have we gone the wrong way? I didn't think we were supposed to reach the river."

  Aibek’s breath caught. Had they been going the wrong way all day? They had been close this morning–the forest had assured him of that. He scanned the tree line for any sign of the trail but saw none.

  “Give me a minute,” he muttered as he limped closer to the raging water. He knelt close to the bank, stretching his sore leg out in front of him, and trailed his fingers in a gentle eddy.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on the cold water flowing over his fingers, stretched out his awareness to encompass the river and the forest beyond his friends. He had never attempted this with anyone nearby. Still, he had to try. He was out of options. Pushing the thoughts away, he concentrated on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In.

  “You… are… near.”

  Gooseflesh prickled along his arms at the raspy whisper. He kept his eyes closed and kept breathing.

  “The trail is there, seven paces to your right.” The voice was halting but clear. He opened his eyes as the forest turned its attention away. He was starting to hate that stab of abandonment that followed the short exchanges with the trees.

  He crutched along the tree line in the direction indicated and located the trail.

  "It's here!" He pointed to a path broad enough for an oxcart.

  Kai stepped over. “How do we know that’s the right one? There must be hundreds of game trails all along this river.”

  “He knows. We’ll follow this trail.” Serik placed a hand on Aibek’s shoulder, tears shining in his eyes. “Well done.”