by Janet Woods
“Then why don’t you help?” she said. “I’m tiring, and you talk much and do too little.”
He prickled with injured pride. “Protocol demands I wait until you invite me.”
She should have thought of that herself. “I’d welcome your help. Tell me, why did you ban Kavan from your counsel?”
“He crowed like a rooster when he beat me at enigma, and him no bigger than a whistling-chick at the time. He should have shown me more respect.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Time moves differently in the chimeric world,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten I’d banned him. One day he’ll find a reason to defy the order. . . perhaps when he’s solved the second enigma. Here, let me do that one.” A blink of his eyes and an arm was healed, another touch of his stick set a broken bone and sent the patient hopping and dancing with glee. “This is fun!” The alchemist’s eyes shone as he drew his cane in an arc above him head. A thousand multi-hued butterflies fluttered into the sky.
She smiled at his childish ebullience and dismissed the last patient, a female whose complaint was nothing to do with the carnage the Pitilan had wrought. An old scar pulled the lid of one eye down and obstructed her sight. The scar was easy to remove with a touch of her fingers. The cure earned her a kiss on the hand.
The alchemist aimed a finger at the woman and her hair grew to her waist. She ran off, shrieking with laughter, to join her more perfect twin.
Tiana grinned, though she couldn’t help wondering at his childishness, as if it was a performance. “Stop showing off. How’s Santo?”
“A man grown and coming into his magic.”
She laughed. “How can he be a man grown? Yester, he was but a child.”
The alchemist looked suitably vague, and seemed reluctant to discuss it. “Time goes fast, sometimes.”
One of the watchers tugged at her skirt. “The Pitilan must be dealt with, Lady. The tranquilizer is wearing off.”
Her smile faded and she followed the watchers to a clearing. Atarta was secured by vines attached to his legs, the ends tied to a tree. His hide was peppered with arrows, his barbed tail lashed at the air. Eyes red-rimmed and maddened, his head moved back and forth seeking prey. Already the vines were giving way as his strength returned. He would not be held captive for long.
“Atarta,” she called, but the only response was an angry roar that sent the watchers scrambling up the trees. She took the whistle from her pocket and blew a sharp note. Atarta stopped struggling and sank to his haunches. He stared at her, and then his tail crept over his back, the barb held high to deliver a fatal blow.
“Destroy yourself,” she ordered. His head moved stupidly from side to side and tears filled her eyes when he seemed to give her a wounded glance. She steeled herself against it. “Obey me, Atarta,” she shouted. “Destroy yourself, now!”
“Like lightning, the tail flicked, sliced open his neck and delivered an instantly lethal dose of venom. As he fell, a gust of foul smelling breath expelled from his body. A cheer went up from the watchers. Sickened by the loss of her constant companion she sank on to a fallen log and supported her head in her hands.
“You must not grieve for such a fearsome beast,” the alchemist said without a shred of sympathy in his voice. “The Pitilan didn’t hunt just for food, but also for the pleasure of the bloodlust. It had no loyalty, no conscience. Any affection you felt for it was not reciprocated. Any nobility of soul you imagined it possessed was a myth generated in the mind of a child.”
“You could have destroyed it with a wave of your cane.”
“It was you who brought the Pitilan into this land. Therefore, it was you who had to destroy it.”
Because she didn’t want him to think badly of her, she stretched the truth a little. “The Pitilan was transported by mistake when I was pulled into the portal.”
He patted her kindly on the shoulder. “And I confess, I couldn’t have destroyed it. I was incarcerated before I attained such power. We must all do what we must, however painful.” For once his words had a ring of truth. His knees creaked as he took his place on the log beside her. “Did Kavan tell you it was I who split the world in two?”
Astonished, she gazed at him. “You?”
“I was angry you see. After I’d fathered Arcus and Lynx I neglected to keep a fatherly eye on them both and they did something very foolish.”
“They met and fell in love.”
His frown indicated he didn’t appreciate the interruption. “You’ve heard the story?”
“Kavan told me a little. Pray tell me the rest.”
“I’ll tell you the truth of it if you stop interrupting,” he said testily. “Now where was I? Ah yes, Beltane was taking a turn at being chief god then. He was aggressive to any who opposed him. Most of the gods are banished and scattered throughout the far universe.”
“But Beltane is confined to Bane.”
“A master stroke on my part,” the alchemist said with a proud grin. “He’s held there by my willpower alone. Only through use of the fire stone can he be freed. The power must be evoked through demon raising, and will set the destruction of Cabrilan and Truarc into motion.”
The hair at the nape of her neck prickled. “What did Beltane do to annoy you, ancient one?”
“He lusted after Lynx.” His bony finger touched against her hair, his eyes flamed dull red through the misty surface. “You’re like her,” he murmured.
Even though she couldn’t feel his touch, she recoiled a fraction. “The love of a father for his children must be a powerful emotion.”
He drew himself up. “That’s exactly what it was. Arcus didn’t need protection, but Lynx was a female. It’s natural to want to protect a daughter. Because I intervened Beltane chose to accuse the pair of indulging in forbidden love and prevented them from experiencing the natural affection between siblings. Each chases the other across the sky and never glimpses the other. This is where you and Kavan come in.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The god-child will carry the genes of Arcus and Lynx, who in turn are blessed with my genes. Legend says your son will be a god of many miracles. He’ll travel far in the universe, be fair of appearance, wise of heart and be much loved.”
“You want me to bear a son only to lose him,” she said sadly.
“He’ll grow to be a young man in your care, and you will teach him much. Kavan is lusty. No doubt there will be others to console you. Another son perhaps, and a daughter of as great a beauty as her mother.”
She grew a little warm at the thought of she and Kavan being blessed with three healthy children. “Will Kavan stay true to only me?”
“You’ll be the light in his eyes, his waking thought, the voice of his conscience, the happiness in his soul, the beat of his heart and the flame in his loins.” The alchemist placed a hand against his chest. “Truly, he’ll place you above all others and serve you all his life.”
She detected amusement in his words and laughed. “Your tongue is coated with silver, most ancient of ancients. Many maids must have succumbed to the essence of your flattery.”
“I’ve enjoyed every moment of my life. The chimera has much to offer.” He rose and smiled at her. “Ah . . . if only I could make myself a few thousand years younger . . .” And he was gone, leaving a whirlwind of leaves where he’d been.
A few moments passed before she realized he hadn’t explained his destructive action in causing the rift.
* * * *
No matter how hard Kavan flexed his muscles, he couldn’t free himself. It was dark, his arms were manacled above his head his feet by the ankles to the floor. Was there a floor? Cold draughts swirled about him, raising goose bumps on his skin and bringing to his nostrils an unpleasant aroma of some sort of fertilizer. He sensed space around him, above him and below him. Carefully tipping his head back he looked upwards.
“By my beard,” he muttered, seeing the light of a distant star. “How will I get out of this
?”
A sound came from far below, a tiny rattle like a foot against a stone. “Who’s there?” he called. There was no response.
Despite his superb muscle structure, or because of it, Kavan was uncomfortable. Muscles needed to be worked, not extended at full strength. Whoever had imprisoned him was an expert at torture. He could be here for days whilst the pain of muscle cramps and spasms eroded his will.
He shifted his weight from one side to the other, then from front to back. Not much movement, but some. They must have tied him to a platform and lowered him down into a tunnel of some sort.
His mind ticked off the possibilities. The silos where the grain was stored? The pits where followers of Beltane were thrown to rot in his stepfather’s time? He gave a mirthless grin. That would be ironic, and a form of punishment Rowena might use . . . if he hadn’t had them filled in.
He wondered what the time was. Feeling helpless, he replaced the negative thoughts in his mind with sweeter ones. Tiana came like a healing balm to calm him. What was she doing? Was she curled sweetly in his cloak, inhaling his personal scent to reinforce the information he’d already lodged in her subconscious? Had she fallen asleep quickly eager for a dream to bring him to her? She’d be dreamless tonight. Her maidenly heart would be disappointed, because despite her anger and feelings of helplessness, she was intrigued.
He tested his fetters again, slowly pitting his strength against the metal. For some reason his feet were bare. His toes curled downwards and lodged in a hole. He was secured on a metal grid of some sort. Apart from some slight toe movement there wasn’t any slack to work with.
The pain in his head was a grinding torment of singed nerve endings. The user of the stun gun hadn’t been familiar enough with the weapon to know how to bring it to full power, thank Assinti.
It was a long night, in which he alternatively dozed and woke. When light suddenly shafted downwards he took his bearings. He was suspended in one of the ancient blow holes. It could be worse; at least the ocean had shifted when the world had split. His mind began to focus. He must remember to calculate for the shift back, making sure any of his subjects in the area were relocated. But first, he had to get out of this mess!
Noise suddenly erupted below him and a mass of squeaking, black shapes tumbled and wheeled under him. They filled the shaft below the grid, and then settled against the walls. Dragon bats. That accounted for the smell. Gleaming black eyes gazed up at him, and then as if sensing he was helpless, a few of the bats edged on to the grill.
Something needle-sharp pierced the sole of his foot. There was a sudden shifting below, as excited by the dripping blood the bats began to hiss and fight over it. Another needle pierced his foot, then another. The blow hole was filled with the sound of lapping tongues and hissing dragon bats. At this rate he’d bleed to death.
“No!” he yelled as realization hit him . . .
* * * *
Tiana woke with a start, gripped by some unnamed dread. She was snug in the watchers camp, high in a tree canopy.
The swaying branches made her stomach queasy, but the height bothered her not at all. She’d slept through the night without dreams of Kavan to plague her. Had he decided she was not worth pursuing after all? A faint flare of disappointment came, but was dismissed immediately.
She stretched, deciding not to think about him. Lowering a ladder fashioned from vines, she descended to the forest floor and went to the stream to bathe. The icy water made her bones ache. She completed her ablutions in hasty fashion, and then bundled into her clothes.
If she’d kept the wishing dish she could have bathed in warm water, she thought. She went to the High Place and peered over the fall. The rainbow patch mocked her. She’d have to climb down the slope, and then swim to the middle of the lake and dive to the bottom if she wanted to retrieve the dish.
She shivered, remembering the numbing cold of the water on her body. “You were a gift of kindness from Kavan’s heart and I’m an ingrate,” she murmured. “I’m truly sorry I discarded you.” The water around the rainbow bubbled and frothed, the bowl slid from the water and sped towards her. “You are indeed magic,” she gasped, catching the silver disk and hugging it close against her.
About to return to the forest with her prize, her intuition was assailed by a deep sense of helplessness. She sank to the ground, knowing something was terribly wrong. Placing the bowl in front of her she concentrated on one of the stones. Soon it began to radiate circles of red and gold until it merged into a shining light. The color absorbed her vision.
There was a well going into the earth. Inside was Kavan, manacled by his wrists and feet. Blood dripped from his feet, which were torn to shreds. Beneath him, a colony of dragon bats clung to the rough walls. They were in a stupor. His head hung forward on his chest.
“Lord Kavan.”
“Tiana?” His head lifted and he gazed about him. His eyes were weary and his unguarded pain slammed into her mind like a wall of dark water. “How sweetly you say my name, but I cannot see you.”
“I see you, Lord,” she gasped, “Allow me a moment to adjust to your pain.”
She experienced the effort he made as some of her healing power was put to good use. “I was thinking of you, Tiana. Am I dreaming?”
“You are in my meditations. We are mind joined.”
“Listen carefully then. I’m in the hands of my enemies and they have summoned the forces of Beltane.”
“Barbarian as you are, I did not imagine you hung there for personal enjoyment.”
His chuckle was pained. “I’m still of a mind to beat you.”
“You have not the strength to beat a grasshopper from a leaf, Lord.”
When he flexed his body against his bonds the pain hit her again and the contact began to fade.
“Quickly,” she whispered. “What can I do to help you? I have the wishing dish back in my possession. Instruct me in its use for your good.”
“It will not be of help. It can only be used for material comfort, amusement or sensory communication, and then only within a certain range. Summon my troopers, but be careful . . . followers of Beltane . . . Rowena a traitor . . . Pannis . . . Van . . . ”
“Where are you, Kavan?”
He didn’t answer, just faded from her mind, leaving her gazing into the silvered surface of the dish.
Shouts came from below her. “There she is, but she’s on sacred ground.”
“Go up after her, you fools,” someone shouted authoritatively, “A pile of moldy bones can’t harm you.” Uniformed men began to scale the slope.
She whispered instructions into the wishing dish, hoping it would categorize her request as an amusement. It did. Water cascaded down the hill, washing the men to the bottom. The water froze over, leaving a sheer cliff of ice.
One of the attackers waved a fist at her. “We are security guards of the new order. Rowena orders you to surrender, witch woman of Truarc.”
“Witch woman!” She gazed at the dish and wished up a load of goat dung to rain upon those below. Nothing happened, so she shook her fist. She jumped when a fire bolt exploded in front of them.
There was a maniacal cackle and the alchemist danced into her vision. Picking up his skirts, his skinny feet stomped in the dust and he clapped his hands clapped with childlike glee. “I haven’t done that for ages. Shall I throw a few more their way?”
“It will melt the ice.”
“What about some smelly, black mud then.”
She remembered the goat’s dung and smiled. “Do as you will to hold them off. Kavan is held prisoner by the followers of Beltane. I must try and rescue him.”
The alchemist nodded. “I’ll summon Santo to help you.”
“He’s but a child,” she said, not quite beyond exasperation and tempted to leave Kavan to his fate. “What use have I for a man as infuriating and stubborn as Kavan, a man who dares to unjustly accuse me of the same stupidity?” She reasoned out loud. “Kavan’s convinced his quest is to save u
s all from extinction. What colossal arrogance my lord has.” Yet, what if he was right? It was a good enough reason to try and save him.
“Why not get on with it?” someone said.
She recognized the man only by the dark eyes and the wide smile that met her curious gaze. Full grown and muscular, he stood head to head with her. “Well met, Santo. You’ve grown.”
“An accelerated ageing process. The master said my brain was too advanced for my body and I should catch it up.”
“You look good. Are you happy?”
“Happier than I’ve ever been. I live in a wondrous world. This man you love, where is he held?”
“I did not say I loved him.”
“You hold him in high esteem and admire him greatly, Lady.”
“That is different to loving him. I only wish to rescue him because he’s deranged and thinks he can save the world. He says the god Beltane is raising a force against us. He deserves a chance. I suppose.”
“Your mind tells me he’s manacled and is being blood-drained by dragon bats.”
“It’s only what he deserves. Do not tell me I seek to rescue him because I love him. How can a maid love a man who thinks so highly of himself he wishes to be her lord and master?” Just at this moment she’d promise to be his slave rather than see him die, but she didn’t intend to admit that to anyone, least of all, Kavan.
“A man wishes to master his woman. A wise woman gives him his head, allows him his fantasy and masters him.”
“Well learned, Santo,” the alchemist said.
She shot them both a scornful glance. “Yester he was merely a child, today a sage and relationship counselor. Take care, Santo. On the morrow the wind might change and you’ll turn into another alchemist.”
“You could be right,” the old man said blandly.
Beneath them, the security guards were hacking footholds in the ice. The alchemist’s bells tinkled when he laughed and casually tossed a fire bolt down the slope. The ice hissed, melted, the footholds filled with water and iced over again. “That will teach them to call me a pile of moldy bones. An alchemist is not a bad thing to be at times, eh?”