Reflection: Harbinger of the Phoenix (Records of the Ohanzee Book 2)

by Rachel R. Smith

  Lightning flashed, followed by a clap of thunder so loud that it rattled the door in its frame. Nerissa glanced up at the window but could see only distorted forms of darkness and light through the water that streamed down the glass. I hope Raysel is managing to stay dry, Nerissa thought. She still wondered where he had gone, but resolved not to invade his privacy by asking. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her on his own.

  Turning her focus back to the book, she contemplated the second paragraph. The reference to the walking dead was unsettling. Would the second section of the prophecy provide more information about that? Cremation had been the standard practice throughout Renatus for hundreds of years. How would it even be possible for the dead to come back and walk among the living? Ghosts don’t actually exist…right? Nerissa shook off the thought. Now she was just being silly. The stormy atmosphere was causing her imagination to run wild. Whatever it meant, she sincerely hoped she never ran into one of the “walking dead” herself.

  The doorknob jiggled, and there was a bang as the chair Nerissa had been sitting in toppled backward. The silhouette of a hooded figure appeared as the hall door swung open. Nerissa lunged for the book, sending the glow lamp tumbling over the edge of the table in the process. It landed with a crack, and the light winked out.

  The figure crossed the room in a single step, the exposed blade of their sword glinting as lightning flashed again. It loomed in front of Nerissa, poised to strike. “What is going on? Are you alright?” the figure asked in a familiar voice.

  Nerissa’s shoulders slumped with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Raysel. I’m fine,” she said, feeling chagrined. “I was reading and you startled me.”

  Just then, Cole and Eloc burst in from the adjoining room. Behind them, Desta hesitantly peeked around the door frame.

  “Feeling jumpy, Caeneus?” Cole asked. His tone was teasing, but he had come through the door with hands raised in front of him, ready for a confrontation.

  Nerissa heaved a vexed sigh. Cole raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing more.

  “We hadn’t realized that either one of you were back until now,” Eloc said.

  “Jarold and Leal returned with me,” Raysel said. He sheathed Thorn and bent to pick up the overturned chair. “Give me a few minutes to get settled, then let everyone know we will be meeting to discuss our findings.”

  “See you in a few minutes,” Leal replied before entering the adjoining room and pulling the door closed behind him.

  “I’m sorry that I startled you,” Raysel said. He removed his dripping cloak and draped it over the curtain rod beside Nerissa’s. He fidgeted with it, arranging and rearranging the folds until finally managing to position it in a way that ensured that the drips would land in the tub and not on the floor.

  “There’s no need to apologize. I was the one that overreacted in the first place.” Nerissa’s eyes fell on the trail of water that led from the hall door to the bathtub. It must have come off of Raysel’s cloak when he rushed across the room. “Toss me a towel. I’ll mop up this mess before everyone else arrives.”

  **************************************

  The group meeting continued until long after the rain diminished to a dreary drizzle and gradually ceased to fall. Since the prophecy made several references to trees, the decision was made to go directly to Silvus, the capital city of the province renowned for its forests. In the morning, they would send a message to Hania through one of the Ohanzee contacts in Niamh with instructions to look into the ancient cure. If the answer couldn’t be found in the Archives or Ildiko’s extensive collection of medical texts, the Chiefs could organize a more extensive search while the group continued to focus on finding the remaining books.

  The others had gone down to the dining room for a late meal, but Nerissa remained in the room. She’d had her fill of wearing the disguise for today. There were already red patches where the adhesive had left marks on her skin. The last thing she wanted was to unnecessarily irritate it any more. Raysel fetched two steaming plates of turkey with gravy, boiled ears of corn, and mixed berries from the kitchen and brought them back to the room. While the quality of the inn’s food was average at best, it was still much better than the meals of beans, cured meats, and dried fruits they would be eating on the road.

  “Desta said that she was going to go back to the twins’ room after dinner to finish their game,” Raysel said as he put down his fork and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

  Nerissa’s expression brightened. “Does that mean I have time to take a bath? I would love to have a nice long soak before we go. There won’t be an opportunity to do so while we are on the road.”

  “No, there probably won’t be.” A gleam appeared in his green eyes. “Before you take your bath, I recommend that you check the pocket of your cloak.”

  “The pocket of my cloak?” Nerissa echoed, puzzled. She rose from the table and approached the bathtub where the cloaks were still draped over the curtain rod.

  Inside one of the pockets was a wax paper packet and a velvet pouch. She untied the strings of the pouch to reveal a geometrically-cut glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. The facets caught in the lamp’s light as she turned it, sparkling alternately between blue and purple hues. She unscrewed the top, and her eyes slowly closed as she inhaled the sweet, familiar fragrance of strawberries and roses. Even if she couldn’t wear her favorite perfume right now, the scent alone made her feel more like her old self. Reluctantly, she tucked the bottle back into its pouch and slipped it back into the pocket. It would seem strange if the others saw Caeneus with women’s perfume, so her new treasure would have to stay hidden.

  The paper of the second packet crinkled as she lifted the flap. She could feel her mouth water as she gazed down at the two cream-filled pastries inside. Pressing the bag gently against her chest, she whirled around and smiled broadly at Raysel.

  “Happy Birthday! It’s not much, but I wanted to give you a little taste of home,” Raysel said, showing her an uncharacteristically shy smile. “I remembered you said before that you missed Pan’s pastries.”

  “Did you see Pan or Addy when you were there? Did they look well?” Nerissa asked, suddenly missing the pair.

  “Pan was the one that bagged the pastries for me. He was as jolly as always,” Raysel answered. “I hope that you enjoy them.”

  “I am sure that I will. Both gifts are absolutely perfect. You really didn’t have to give me anything at all. Thank you!” Nerissa exclaimed. “I can’t eat both of these myself, though.”

  “I braved the pouring rain to get those for you,” Raysel scoffed. “I’m not going to just turn around and eat half of your gift.”

  “Getting gifts for me was the reason for your errand this afternoon?” Nerissa asked. Pan’s pastry shop and the perfumery were on opposite sides of the city. He really had gone to a great deal of trouble for her sake. “Now I’m going to insist that you have one. Consider it an expression of my gratitude for running all over the city in a storm for my sake.” She placed one of the pastries on his plate.

  “I suppose it would be rude to argue with you on your birthday,” Raysel relented. He took a bite of the pastry and immediately got cream on the tip of his nose.

  Nerissa watched him with an amused smirk. “Hold still,” she said. She reached out and wiped away the spot of cream. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s excellent. We should make these a tradition,” he said.

  Nerissa reached out and squeezed the hand he wasn’t holding the pastry with. “I would like that. Now, I’m going to take this one with me and eat it in the bath,” she said, lifting her eyebrows up and down in feigned mischievousness.

  “You should start soon so you have plenty of time to enjoy it properly.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice,” she said as she eagerly set about the preparations.

  Although he couldn’t see anything going on behind the folding screen, Raysel turned away as first a shirt, then
pants were draped over the top. He heard a soft splash and a groan of pleasure as Nerissa stepped into the water.

  “Could you restrain yourself from making those noises? I may be your guardian, but I’m still a man as well,” Raysel muttered.

  Nerissa laughed. “I’ll try to keep it down.” Her cheeks turned pink, and the heat of the water was not the only cause. She told herself that there was no reason to be self-conscious around Raysel, even if there was no more than a thin curtain between the two of them. Nerissa took a bite of the pastry and tilted her head back, savoring the taste of Pan’s baking. This had shaped up to be an excellent birthday after all.

  Chapter 12

  An Unlikely Ally

  Tiny rainbows, cast by the crystal chimes, flitted in and out of existence on the walls of Charis’ room as the late afternoon sunlight brightened and dimmed behind passing clouds. Today was the first day in a week that it hadn’t rained. Charis sat at her desk, staring at the rainbows with unfocused eyes and gnawing on the top of her pen while she pondered the perfect conclusion to her essay on symbolism in turn-of-the-century plays. It was due in the morning, and all that remained was the last sentence—the finishing touch.

  As the perfect wording began to take shape in her mind, a gentle tapping derailed Charis’ train of thought. Her eyes flicked toward the sound, expecting to find Amon requesting help with cooking dinner again. Instead, it was her father standing there with his hands behind his back. It was a casual posture for most people, but on her father it meant that he was irritated and restraining his temper. The professional need to remain composed at all times had long ago carried over into his personal habits as well. Charis swallowed as if she could physically force down her rising sense of dread. Perhaps he hadn’t yet realized her mother’s book was gone. He could be wearing that expression for another reason entirely. She sincerely hoped that were the case. Despite her confidence when Nerissa was here, Charis still hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why the tome was missing.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your studies,” her father began. “But I noticed that your mother’s heirloom is missing from the shelf in my study. Do you know where it is?”

  Charis forced her expression to remain calm. All the while, she was mentally pulling her hair and cursing. If she hesitated too long before answering, he would know she was lying. She had to come up with something—fast. It would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible, without giving away the crucial details, and take the consequences.

  “I loaned the book to a friend,” Charis said, breaking eye contact and staring apologetically at the floor.

  “Why would you do that?” he asked in a deliberately temperate tone.

  “They needed it for their research,” Charis explained. She realized she was chewing on the top of her pen again and pulled it away from her mouth.

  “You know that book isn’t supposed to leave the house. It was your mother’s explicit wish that the book—and the crystal with it—be kept safe so that it can be passed down to you and your children.”

  Charis’ brows rose. This was the perfect opportunity to find out where the crystal was being kept! “So there is supposed to be a crystal with it? I noticed there was a pocket in the spine, but it was empty.”

  Her father sighed impatiently, his shell of disciplined emotion finally beginning to crack. “The crystal is loose and tends to fall out, so I keep it in the safe with our important documents. Don’t try to change the subject. You should never…” The lecture would have continued if Amon had not come down the hall and interrupted.

  “It’s alright, Charis,” Amon said. “I appreciate that you were trying to cover for me, but I don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”

  All Charis could manage was an open-mouthed stare as Amon’s icy blue eyes met hers. He was covering for her, not the other way around. He was helping her—again—but why?

  Her father turned to Amon for an explanation. “You are the one that borrowed the book?” he asked, incredulous.

  “I happened to come across it when I went to borrow your book on the history of the artists of Madscar Province. When I skimmed through the pages, I found an illustration done in a style remarkably similar to that of one of the artists that I am studying.” Amon paused and gauged their reactions. He had no idea if the text had illustrations or not, but since the President didn’t look suspicious, his guess must have been correct. He continued on smoothly. “The publication dates from the right time period, which makes me think it may be an unsigned work. At the very least, it may be a work done by one of her students. You weren’t home, so I asked Charis if I could take it to compare with authenticated illustrations in several references from the Special Collection. She was emphatic that it wasn’t supposed to leave here. I was faced with the situation of having one book that can’t leave this house and multiple ones that can’t be taken from the library. Given the situation, I thought it best to move the fewest number possible, so I borrowed yours despite Charis’ insistence and took it to my work area in the Special Collection Room.”

  Charis’ father scratched his beard thoughtfully. His expression softened as he looked from Amon to Charis. “You still should have talked to me first.”

  “I am sorry. I intended to tell you right away, but you and I have both been so busy that it slipped my mind,” Amon said.

  “These last few weeks certainly have been more hectic than usual. These things happen. I am sure it is safe enough in the Special Collection Room for now. Be sure to bring it back as soon as you are finished with the comparison,” Charis’ father replied.

  “Of course,” Amon assented.

  “Very well. I’ll be in my study. Let me know when dinner is ready.” He turned and disappeared into the door at the far end of the hallway.

  Amon’s humble smile transformed to a predatory smirk. “You owe me,” he purred. His expression was so wolf-like that Charis wouldn’t have been surprised to see fangs protruding out over his bottom lip.

  Charis tilted her chin up indignantly. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “But you needed my help,” Amon countered. “What actually happened to the book?”

  At that moment, one of the tiny rainbows from Nerissa’s chimes danced across Amon’s face. Charis’ tense expression relaxed. “I really did loan it to a friend for their research.”

  “Well, I hope that they return it soon, but I’ll cover for you until then,” Amon replied. “In return, you will help me make dinner tonight.”

  “That’s what I owe you?” Charis’ eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all that I owe you?”

  “Yes,” Amon answered testily. He was beginning to grow irritated with her chronic skepticism. “I’m really not as bad of a person as you make me out to be.”

  Charis pulled open the top drawer of her desk to put away her well-nibbled pen. She brushed her fingers over the handkerchief that lay within. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be, but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. “That remains to be seen,” she said, coyly. “Let’s get to work.”

  Amon remained silent as he trailed her into the kitchen. An antique book with a crystal in its spine, he thought. How interesting…

  Chapter 13

  Forest Fire

  Alba’s hooves clopped on the packed gravel road in an uninterrupted rhythm, even as Nerissa slid her foot out of the stirrup to stretch her leg. Today the air was blissfully warm—a welcome change after a solid week of riding in the rain. Despite the poor weather, the group had made good time as they traveled north and east. With every passing mile, the sparse copses that speckled the farmlands had grown increasingly thicker and closer together until, now, the road was completely surrounded by the forests that Silvus was known for. The capital city was only a short distance away.

  Nerissa slipped her foot back into the stirrup and turned her head side to side to stretch her neck. As far as the e
ye could see, there was nothing but leaves, painted in every color autumn could produce. The road they were on now was seldom used, and the untended branches jutted into the road, brushing at her legs and grating along the sides of the wagon as they passed. One of the limbs caught on Harbinger’s sheath, and Nerissa’s hand reflexively drifted down to ensure the sword was still secure. She was gradually growing accustomed to its weight at her hip. Fortunately, the journey had been an uneventful one, so Harbinger had not been needed. And Nerissa hoped that it would stay that way.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, a racket sprang up from deep within the tangle of trees. It was neither the gentle stirring of squirrels gathering nuts, nor was it the rustling of creatures like opossums or raccoons, or even the snapping of twigs beneath the hooves of a running deer. These noises were created by the swift movement of something very large. With each passing heartbeat, the crashing grew ever louder. Whatever it was, it was rapidly approaching the road.

  Nerissa was forced to bring Alba to a halt as Leal suddenly stopped the wagon in front of her. Around her, the other riders did the same. Every eye was focused on the woods to their right, waiting to see what kind of creature would appear.

  “Is it a bear?” a wide-eyed Desta asked in a trembling voice. She tightened her grip on the reins of her horse as it let out a nervous whinny and stomped one foot.

  “Let’s hope not,” Raysel replied. “A bear would have to be pretty riled up to be running like that.”

  “I hope you did a good job cleaning up the honey you spilled on yourself at breakfast,” Cole teased, his voice tinged with false concern.

  It didn’t seem possible, but Desta’s eyes grew even rounder.

  “Now is not the time, Cole,” Nerissa said shortly, her eyes never straying from the leaves.