by NS Dolkart
When they stopped at another inn that night, the islanders spent some time trying to determine what they actually knew about the barrier between their world and the world of the fairies. Criton’s recollections of the numerology scroll, combined with Bandu’s childhood memories, pointed at a barrier that fluctuated in strength depending on the amount of time since the previous breach. Without the right timing – or a truly vast amount of power – it was likely impossible to break through. That was a comforting thought. The barrier kept the fairies out.
They followed Atel’s road for about a month, while Hunter’s funds slowly dwindled into nothing. When the road split only a week or so from Atuna, they turned left, away from the sea. The right fork clung too close to the sea, and besides, Phaedra suspected that the left fork would take them to Crossroads. The Atellan friars barely charged for their rooms, and she had never felt as safe as she had among them.
Crossroads did not have the same effect on Narky. He kept back, muttering, as the new head friar came out to greet them, and he awoke twice in the night, crying out in pain and terror.
“The ravens!” he shouted once, loudly enough that Phaedra could make out his words from two rooms over. “He’s dying!”
Phaedra did not want to embarrass him the next day by asking about his dream, but she did ask him how he felt.
“My chest hurts,” he said, scratching at it through his shirt and wincing. “It itches, too.”
He looked awful. His shirt was clinging to his body with sweat, and like the rest of them, his hair had grown over the months into a shaggy tangled mess. Then he wiped his forehead, and Phaedra noticed the blood on his fingertips.
“What happened to your fingers?” she asked him.
“My fingers?” he said absentmindedly, looking down at them in surprise. “Nothing.”
“There’s blood,” she pointed out.
“Huh,” he said. “I don’t know where that came from.”
The others were slowly gathering round, concerned. “Take off your shirt,” said Hunter.
The shirt was still partway over Narky’s head when he heard their collective gasp. “What?” he asked.
Somehow, even after all these months, Narky’s scar had reopened. All across his chest, the symbol of Ravennis was bleeding.
49
Hunter
“What does it mean?”
Phaedra shook her head. “I don’t know. Narky, do you–”
“I don’t know!” Narky cried. “It wasn’t like this yesterday. It just happened!”
“It doesn’t look very deep,” said Criton.
Phaedra shook her head. “You’re sure you don’t have any idea why this would happen? What did you dream about last night? I heard you saying something about ravens.”
“I don’t remember!” he shouted, panicked. “I just remember that it was awful. It felt really important when I woke up.”
She made a frustrated sound. “You have to be the only person who’s had a prophetic dream and can’t remember a single detail.”
“Well, I can’t,” he said angrily. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
“What you want now?” asked Bandu.
Phaedra began to say something, but Bandu hissed at her. “Not you,” she said. “Narky. Where you want to go?”
Narky just stared at her for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I want to go to Laarna,” he said at last. “A priest of Ravennis or an oracle might help me.”
“Then Laarna it is,” said Hunter. “Atuna’s on our way north; we can stop there to bring the twins home.”
They parted with the friars and continued northwards, keeping to Atel’s road. Narky became more jittery as the days went on, urging them to hurry. When they reached Atuna, he wanted to abandon the twins there and continue onwards without even stopping.
“That’s not going to happen,” Hunter told him. He felt bad enough for the way they had had to leave Breaker at the gates of Parakas. Besides, although Hunter did not like to bring it up, they were now completely penniless. As soon as Tellos and Tella were back in their parents’ care, Hunter would have to sell his horse.
Still, Narky would go mad without something to do for the next hour or two. Hunter set him the task of getting a good price for the horse, while Bandu and Criton watched over the other children and he and Phaedra went to return the twins to their parents.
“I can’t believe they’re going to have a baby,” Phaedra said, out of nowhere.
Hunter nodded, unsure of what to say. Criton certainly didn’t seem ready for fatherhood, but that was not the kind of thing one said out loud. As for Bandu… he didn’t know what to think about Bandu. The fact was that he found her pregnant body embarrassingly arousing. Her vast, growing belly captured his imagination completely, filling his head with thoughts that he would never, ever share with Phaedra. Her shape and her motions were so compelling. Bandu moved her round fertile body with such matter-of-fact strength that Hunter did not doubt she would make a capable mother. She seemed completely, beautifully ready.
They followed the twins’ lead, trying to ignore the stares from passersby. Finally they reached a house of white imported stone in the wealthy Atunaean style, and Tella said, “This is it.”
Hunter took a deep breath and knocked, wondering anxiously about the parents’ reaction to the sight of a pair of islanders with their children. He decided that they should not have a chance to think about it. As soon as the door opened, Hunter said, “Are these your children, my lady?”
The young woman who had opened the door simply stared at him, saying nothing. She had callused skin and short, straight hair, and Hunter could see immediately that he had made a mistake.
“That’s not Mother,” said Tellos, “that’s Hindra. She’s our slave.”
“Tellos!” cried Hindra, breaking her eyes away from Hunter’s and noticing the children. “Tella! Where have you been?”
“We found them in the woods near Parakas,” said Phaedra. “We think they’d been kidnapped by fairies.”
“Fairies,” repeated Hindra. “Thank you for bringing them all the way back here. I know it must not have been easy. I grew up south of Parakas, in–”
“I’m hungry!” shouted Tellos gleefully. “Find me something to eat!”
“First to your mother,” said Hindra. She turned to the islanders. “Please wait here,” she said. “I’m sure they will want to reward you for your troubles.”
They waited there, uncomfortably, while Hindra took the twins inside. A courtyard could be glimpsed past the half-opened door, with fig trees planted at artistic intervals and a stone fountain in the middle.
“I had no idea they were so rich,” Phaedra said.
“Noble, you mean,” said Hunter. “They must be, to own slaves.”
“Not here,” she corrected him. “Most of Atuna’s noblemen died in the uprising, alongside the king. In Atuna, any wealthy family can buy the right to own slaves from the ruling council. You didn’t know that?”
“I guess I did, but I forgot.”
She eyed him quizzically. “You remembered all about the trees near Parakas, but you didn’t remember this? We’re practically swimming distance from home here, in the largest city in the world! Your father must have talked about Atuna all the time!”
Hunter shrugged. “I didn’t think about those things back then.”
“But you thought about trees.”
“I thought about war,” Hunter snapped. “When people spoke of Parakas and its settar trees, they were speaking about war. That’s why I listened.”
Phaedra seemed taken aback, embarrassed.
“I wasted my life learning how to kill people,” Hunter told her. “I didn’t think about it that way, but that’s what it was. I was just learning how to kill people. And I didn’t even realize I was wasting my life until I actually killed someone the first time, up in the mountains. It’s awful. It’s even worse knowing it’s the life I wanted.”
“But Hunter�
�” she said sympathetically.
He didn’t let her finish. “I know,” he said. “You rely on me. If I didn’t keep fighting, we’d probably all be dead. But I don’t want to keep having to kill in order to live.”
“Maybe one day you won’t have to,” she said.
He laughed ruefully. “But then what? It’s all I know how to do, Phaedra. I don’t know how to farm or be a merchant or a cobbler or an anything. I’m not really a nobleman anymore, not of a country that exists, but I don’t know how to do anything!”
“You’ll find something,” she reassured him, “and in the meantime, we wouldn’t be here without you. You didn’t waste your life.”
“My father thought I did,” he answered her. “He worried so much about me wasting my life that he went all the way to Laarna to ask the Oracle what to do about me. And I haven’t changed at all since then – I’m still doing the same old things. He’d probably be disappointed.”
“No, Hunter!” she began, but she did not get to finish, because just then the door opened and Hindra reappeared.
“The mistress wanted you to have this,” the slave said, handing Hunter a small but heavy purse. “Thank you.” She closed the door.
“How much was that?” Phaedra asked, as they turned to go.
Hunter glanced inside the purse. “Enough to have kept that horse,” he said. It occurred to him that he would never have accepted this money back when he still had his nobleman’s dignity. The thought was sad, but oddly freeing. It didn’t matter anymore that the gift was a show of superiority: money was money, and the islanders could use however much of it they got.
Phaedra cocked her head to one side. “You’re not the same, you know. And you’re not just doing the same old things. For the Gods’ sake, you’re rescuing children!”
Hunter sighed. “I still feel the same on the inside. Lost and stupid. You know the happiest moment in my life was the day my father gave me this sword? I wanted a sword so badly. What am I supposed to want now?”
Phaedra shook her head, but she said nothing. Hunter became keenly aware that he was talking all about himself, and had not even asked her how she was faring.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t complain so much. I still have my health.”
“It’s all right,” she said to him. “I think you’ve lost more than I have. You lost your dream. I lost mine too, but I found a better one.”
“You did?”
Phaedra nodded. “I’m sure you will too. It just takes time.”
Hunter thought about this. He wanted to ask Phaedra what her new dream was, but the moment had passed, so he saved his question for another time. She didn’t seem eager to talk about it, not yet anyway. Could she be right about him, though? Would he find another dream?
They slept in Atuna that night, at the same inn where they had stayed so long ago. Narky objected to staying there, but the others overruled him.
“This was the first place we shared after that awful voyage,” Phaedra said. “We have to stay here.”
“No,” said Narky, “we don’t. This is the worst place I can think of to stay on the way to the Oracle of Ravennis. It’s… it’s bad.”
“This is where we’re staying,” Criton told him. “We’re tired, and it’s familiar.”
Narky kept grumbling, but he had already given up on changing their minds. The next morning, over a breakfast of flat bread and soft sheep’s cheese, Phaedra suggested that they make a quick stop at the temple square before heading north toward Laarna.
“We haven’t any of us made a sacrifice in a very long time,” she said. “If we don’t please some God, no one will protect us from the ones we’ve angered.”
“That’s true,” said Narky, “but I want to get to Laarna as soon as possible.”
To their surprise, the innkeeper interrupted them. “You’re going to Laarna?” he asked, bringing them a new basket of bread and setting it down on the table. “Are you insane?”
“What do you mean?” asked Criton.
The man looked at them in disbelief. “Haven’t you heard? Ardis has gone to war against Laarna. You’d be walking right into a battle!”
He left them looking dazedly at each other, wondering what to do next. Hunter saw fear on Criton’s face. It seemed the red priest still haunted his dreams.
“We have to go,” said Narky.
“Narky, we can’t go,” Phaedra explained gently. “We can’t bring Rakon home to a besieged city! We should wait here until news comes.”
Hunter agreed with her, but her words still made him uncomfortable. They reminded him of the last time they had stayed in Atuna – at this very inn – waiting for news.
“I have to go,” Narky said. “Ravennis wants me there. If there’s a battle going on, I have to join it.”
Hunter could hardly believe those words had come from Narky. “You’re a brave man,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” said Narky, wretchedly. “But if my choices are between a battle and a cloud of ravens, I’m going with the battle.”
Criton shuddered. “Fair enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Phaedra said, “but we can’t all go with you.”
“Where is he going?” asked Delika, looking from one islander to another. The children had been eating with them this whole time, but she had only just started paying attention to the conversation.
“I’ll go with you,” said Hunter. “We can take a pair of horses and leave the others here in safety.”
Criton nodded. “I’ll come too. I don’t like the idea of you fighting Bestillos alone.”
“But where are they going?” Delika asked Phaedra.
“Phaedra can stay,” said Bandu. “I go with Criton.”
“Bandu, you can’t!” Phaedra protested.
“It’s too dangerous,” Criton told her. “You’re pregnant, Bandu. You can’t just–”
Bandu stood firm. “Where you go, I go.”
“WHERE?” cried Delika. “Where is everyone going?”
“Narky and I are going to Laarna,” said Hunter, “to join a battle against Ardis. Criton, I think you’d better stay. Bandu won’t let you go without her, and what if we don’t come back? Stay here this time. We’ll see you in a week or so, Gods willing.”
Criton slumped his shoulders, but he didn’t object. Hunter and Narky prepared to mount their horses, packing some feed and some dried meats in the saddlebags before setting off. Hunter left the purse, so that the others could stay at the inn during his absence. He also lent Narky his long dagger.
“If we’re not back in two weeks,” said Narky, “take the kids and go to Silent Hall. Psander’s not safe, but she’s better than here. We’re too close to Mayar here.”
Phaedra nodded. “Laarna is a port town too,” she pointed out, “and if Ravennis is busy fighting with Magor, He might not have the strength to keep Mayar away from you. Be careful.”
They set out midmorning, riding north along the coastal road. The cliffs rose high above the sea here, so for now they allowed themselves to follow the road, keeping an anxious eye on the waters below. When it grew dark they drew away from the cliffs and slept on a mossy bank. It rained during the night, and they awoke wet and frozen, shielding their faces from the droplets and trying to climb back onto their horses in the moonlight. If they could not sleep, at least they could make some progress.
They met a refugee the following day, staggering toward them along the road. “Turn around,” urged the young man. His clothes were muddy and torn, and his knees and elbows scraped and bleeding.
“Did you fight in the battle?” asked Hunter.
The man stared back up at him defiantly. “He’s a deserter,” said Narky.
“We were losing,” said the deserter. “There’s no honor at the end of the Ardismen’s spears.”
“When was this battle?” Hunter interrogated him.
“Four days ago,” said the man. “The battle was lost, I tell you! The red priest has probably burned th
e city by now.”
They left him there and continued on their way. They did not meet many other refugees. Hunter suspected that armed riders such as Narky and himself would be avoided whenever possible. They did come across a group of ragged women once, and saw some dark-clothed people below them at the base of the cliffs, slogging wearily along the beach. Other than these, the road was empty.
It took them another day and a half to reach Laarna, crossing through ravaged fields and burnt olive groves. Laarna’s olives were well-known even on Tarphae – the loss of these trees would be felt for generations.
At last they found themselves atop a hill, looking down at the smoldering city in the distance. They rode on, their spirits falling. The battle was clearly long over. The battlefield lay well before the open gates, a scavenger’s feast of corpses and broken arrows, riderless horses and smashed chariots, tattered standards and bloodied armor. The smell was sickening. Dogs barked and vultures took flight as Hunter and Narky rode among the dead, looking from side to side in horror.
“Look,” said Narky.
Hunter followed Narky’s finger, and found that it was pointing at a dead raven. Behind it was another. And another.
“The ravens?” asked Hunter.
Narky nodded. “They haven’t been shot down. There are no arrows in them.”
Hunter felt suddenly cold.
Within the city walls, some buildings were still burning. “Maybe someone is still alive in there,” said Narky without hope.
The city turned out to be much like the battlefield, except that the corpses here included women and children, all speared and slaughtered. Hunter and Narky did not go near the docks, but the smoke that rose from that direction told them all they needed to know.
They wandered almost aimlessly through the wreckage of the town until they came to the collapsed building that had once been the Temple of Ravennis. The corpses of two women had been tied high onto the pillars on either side of the entrance. The one on the left had been young and beautiful, Hunter realized with some surprise. The other had been very old, and the ropes that bound her to the pillar had torn her skin. Narky saw them, and his eye filled with tears.