Seeker's Revolution

by Boyson, Cassandra

  “I don’t understand why you still can’t trust me,” she said.

  He turned his face toward her through his tears. “Of course I trust you. I trusted you from the first meal you brought me. Problem is, I do not trust the others.”

  “There are few people I trust myself. We can live alone in my hut and you don’t have to see anyone you do not wish to. You don’t even have to tell me anything you don’t care to. I won’t press you. But you’re coming with me tomorrow. As far as I know, most people think you’re dead, so if everyone were to see you alive and well, nothing could happen to either of us. The council’s hands would be tied.”

  The old man peered into the face he could not see for a while longer before he patted her hand. “All right, darling girl. I’ll go with you.”

  “Truly?”

  Old Waymith nodded. “Now, bring me all the food you’ve got. I want to gather what strength I can if I’m to escort such a lovely little girl to a wedding.”

  “You got it,” she exclaimed merrily.

  Before leaving, Waymith made her bend down to hug him and patted her cheek before shewing her, promising he would be as ready as he could when she came for him. Iviana promised him a fine jacket in return so he would look his best.

  –

  “Darist,” Iviana began when she arrived at his hut the following day, “would you help me with something?”

  He had just finished dressing for the wedding, but seemed in a rush. “Of course I will, but I’m supposed to meet Leilyn with the cake I baked for the wedding celebration. She wants to make certain it’s acceptable.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? She probably just wants to fit a little flirting in before the ceremony. I see Necoli coming this way. Can’t we send him with it? He’s nearly as handsome and twice as flirtatious as you.”

  “I suppose so,” he said laughingly. “What is it you need my help with?”

  Iviana rushed the cake out to Necoli with instructions to take it to Leilyn and give her a final thrill. She then took Darist by the hand and started for the beach.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Darist asked a little breathlessly as she dragged him along.

  “The beach.”

  “All right, and what do you need help with there?”

  “We’re fetching my companion for Leilyn’s wedding.”

  “Oh... you, uh, need help with that?”

  Iviana nodded. “I need you to carry him.”

  Darist choked, uncertain how to respond. Then he saw the old shack. “That’s where he lives, I take it?” he asked doubtfully.

  Iviana nodded with a grin.

  “Can someone really live in that?”

  Before he knew it, Iviana had raced ahead and entered the shack. Just as he approached, she came leaping out. “He’s not here!” she cried. “Where on earth could he be? He said he’d be waiting.”

  “Perhaps he’s already at the Grand Pavilion?” Darist attempted to help.

  Iviana lit up. “Yes, perhaps he thought I was running too late and found someone to take him.”

  “Why does he need help getting there, Ivi?”

  “He can’t walk; he’s crippled.”

  “Oh.”

  Iviana raced down the paths to the Grand Pavilion where the ceremony was to take place, but when they arrived, there was no sign of the elderly man.

  “He’s not here!” she cried, almost shrieking. Her stomach was beginning to knot.

  As she was gaining attention from the other attendees, Darist pulled her aside to gain further information. “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Waymith.”

  “Old man Waymith?” he asked with both confusion and sudden understanding. “He’s alive? How do you know him?”

  “Oh, we met a while ago. It’s who I’ve been spending my time with. He was supposed to come with me today. I can’t imagine where he could be. It’s not like he could go anywhere on his own.”

  Just then, the music that was to open the ceremony began and Darist worked hard to convince Iviana to sit down with him. Iviana’s eyes scanned those in attendance in the hopes she had merely missed him. But when she was at last convinced of his absence, it was down to one question: What could have happened to him? Perhaps she should not have visited after he’d insisted she stay away.

  Darist put an arm around her and did all he could to settle her, promising they would do what they could when the ceremony was complete. This helped some and, even in her trouble, she could not help noticing what a beautiful bride Leilyn made and how exultant she appeared when she saw Nico at the other end of the pavilion. Nico was more than proud when he caught sight of his bride and could not keep from grinning. It was apparent no amount of flirting with other men equaled what Leilyn felt for her groom.

  Immediately following the ceremony, everyone began readying for the celebration. Iviana and Darist stole the moment to race back to the beach shack to discover what they could. Unfortunately, everything was as she had left it. Only Waymith was absent.

  “Is there anyone else we can ask about this?” Darist suggested.

  Iviana’s mind raced. “I―I don’t know. I suppose I could try Nimua. She was the one I talked to before and may have been more apt to notice anything.”

  Breathlessly, Iviana approached Nimua at the start of the wedding celebration, asking if she had heard anything.

  “You’re still seeing that old man? Why didn’t you tell me? I utterly forgot to mention him to my mother. Why don’t we ask her?”

  As the three caught sight of Naii, they proceeded to ask what she knew of Waymith, but her response was utter surprise and delight in the fact he was even alive. “You might try his old house,” she suggested. “He may have returned there.”

  As the three turned away, Kurnin, whom she had not spoken with for some time, approached with a pleasant smirk on his large face, asking for a private word.

  Darist and Nimua were loath to allow it, but Iviana assured them she could handle it.

  “I could not help overhearing something of your search for old man Waymith,” Kurnin started in once they were alone. “I wonder what your business could possibly be with him?”

  Iviana froze, immediately sensing something amiss. “What business is it of yours?” she returned.

  Kurnin’s brows sprang up, but he pressed on. “I wonder, have you known him long? How long have you been caring for him?”

  So he knew... or had guessed. Could he have had something to do with Waymith’s disappearance?

  “What have you done with him?” she demanded.

  Kurnin’s face filled with self-righteous indignation. “I cannot imagine what you could mean by that, young woman, but I resent your implication. The man has died, from what I hear. Passed away last night. I only wondered what your business might have been with him.”

  Iviana eyed him, testing what he had said with what she knew of him. Passed on last night? But why should Kurnin know anything about it? Whether or not his information was accurate, he was obviously attempting to pump her of information. She would give him nothing.

  “I would ask my council, if I were you,” he continued. “Surely, it is no longer a concern of mine, now I have been removed from leadership.”

  With that, he slipped away.

  Iviana stood huffing, her eyes filling with tears. Oh, what was she to do? If he was truly dead, where might his body be? Somehow, she knew she must not ask the council about it. Kurnin’s knowledge she had anything to do with Waymith was more than she wanted anyone to know and what Kurnin knew, the council would soon learn.

  “Iviana, I’m so happy to see you here!” Leilyn cried warmly as she approached.

  Iviana swiftly wiped the tears from her eyes and put on her best smile. “You look absolutely stunning, Leilyn.”

  “As do you! I knew you’d be beautiful if only you tried a little. And I saw you came with Darist,” she said with a knowing smile. “Just as I suspected!”
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  With that, she threw her arms around Iviana, giving her a good squeeze and went on her way to speak with the other guests. Though Leilyn would always be Leilyn, Iviana could not help being glad they were on good terms.

  Even so, Iviana knew she would not be lingering for the remainder of the celebration. Now she had spoken with the bride, she considered herself free to depart.

  “What was that about?” Darist asked as he approached.

  “Oh... oh, Darist, Kurnin says Waymith passed away last night. I-I really don’t know what to do.”

  Darist’s eyes grew deeply compassionate. “Iviana... I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the man, but I can see by your feelings his death is deserving of sorrow.”

  Iviana nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She did not wish to admit to Darist she believed Kurnin was lying, mostly because there was nothing he could do about it, nothing anyone she trusted could do about it.

  “I think I’m going to go home and lie down,” she told him. She might not be able to sleep, but it would give her time to think.

  “Of course. I don’t blame you. Can I walk you?”

  Iviana shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said with a small smile. “I promise.”

  Oh, Great One, please show me what to do.

  7

  Iviana

  Iviana raced through the endless tunnels in the mountains of the cannibal island. This time, she was aware she was dreaming, but the terror still kicked and breathed inside her. She assumed the cannibals were after her, but had no time to look back, knowing they would be right on her tale.

  Suddenly, she heard the voice of a man who was as much a nightmare as the cannibals were to her. He taunted her and ripped at her nightgown, shredding it with his claws. When at last she allowed a glance behind, she found a giant version of Kurnin, putrid rot dripping from his mouth. Each time he tore at her hair and clothing, she cried with new panic. If Kurnin caught her, he would lock her away forever within the very heart of this mountain, she knew it.

  But why should she think he would lock her away? He seemed rather more intent on destroying her. Still, the deeper she ran, the more certain she was her race would lead to her imprisonment. Even so, she could not turn back, for Kurnin was always behind her, ever pressing her forward.

  Soon, she could hear voices crying far down the corridor, warning her to turn back or join them in their fate. For they had all been imprisoned by Kurnin, just as he wished to do to her now.

  But learning this, Iviana no longer feared for herself. Instead, she worried about what she would find at the end of her pursuit. The thought of others being locked away set a fire blazing in her that would not subside until she had freed them. The closer she drew, the hotter she grew until her own skin felt as if it was melting off.

  At last, she entered a huge room with high ceilings carved within the rocky mountain, but what drew her were the bars that ran from ceiling to floor on three sides of the room. Behind the bars, were people, hundreds of them, each with heartbroken spirit. She drew near to a woman who looked on her with compassion, as if certain Iviana would join them there.

  “Why are you imprisoned here?” Iviana asked her.

  “It is the secret law of our land―the law only the highest members of leadership are aware of.”

  “But what law has you held here?”

  Horror filled the woman’s eyes as Kurnin suddenly had hold of Iviana and was attempting to eat of her flesh as if he was a cannibal of the island. The woman in the cell cried for her to get away and stay away, else this would be her fate. “Wake up!” she cried. “You must awaken!”

  Iviana bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping from her skin, pouring into the fresh scratches on her arms and legs, making them sting. Even her nightgown was torn and tattered. But stronger than anything was her Seeker’s fire, ablaze and burning within.

  Recalling her visit to the Isle of Atlantyss, she thought over the class on dream interpretation, attempting to sort out the meaning of this nightmare. But it seemed too deep for what she had learned in the lecture. It was as if she had literally been inside the mountain, pursued by Kurnin’s spirit or a like spirit. Furthermore, she knew she had truly spoken with the woman and it was she who had awoken Iviana before the spirit could devour her.

  Iviana was uncertain of what to do. Could there truly be a prison within those mountains? If so, would the cannibals not have consumed their prisoners already? But even as she wondered these things, she stood and dressed herself, for she would follow the leading of the Seeker’s fire into that mountain and discover what was at its heart. Cannibals or no, it did not matter. Fully awake, she did not fear facing them again. She would best them, if she must.

  The hue of the night sky proved it was only midnight and she was grateful. She had no intention of notifying anyone of her purpose. They would think her unbalanced for following such a dream, not to mention what they would make of her tattered arms. It would look as if she had been attacked, though attacked she had been in a way she did not understand. It was as if in her race through the mountain she had faded between dream and reality, spirit and flesh.

  It did not take long for her to take to the air with Tragor, who had been alerted to her need of him by the Great One and had been waiting not far from her hut. She now understood why the dragon was always there when she needed him, for she knew the Great One better now she knew His son and it was They Who provided for her every need.

  The pair flew for hours before reaching the island, but it was yet dark enough to conceal her from the eyes of the cannibals whom she had allowed to haunt her dreams for far too long. It was ridiculous to let anything take up residence in her life in such a way, awake or dreaming.

  When she drew up to the entrance in the mountain where a large boulder had guarded it, the great rock was already drawn aside, as if prepared for her arrival. She could only hope it would remain so when and if she was ready to depart.

  Once within the tunnel system, she followed the fire in her veins until she came to a place where she recalled having felt the Seeker’s fire the last time she had been there with Necoli―when first she had discovered the island and had been forced to rescue her friends from the cannibals. In that moment, she had ignored the feeling as only a passing fancy. Now, it was time to discover what her spirit had perceived that day. She had never truly forgotten it, for it tugged at her consciousness just as the cannibals had persisted on dwelling in her dreams.

  Her blood turned cold as she heard the sound of hundreds of breathing people, but everything in her grew numb when she stepped into the room of her nightmare. In truth, she had not really expected to find it―had not wanted it to be true. Whatever was happening here was like the death of the Anointed One: unjust. The desire for justice replaced the burning of the Seeker’s fire, causing her vision to glow scarlet for a moment.

  “Why have you come?” asked the woman Iviana had spoken with in her dream only hours before, her question birthed of anguish rather than curiosity.

  “How do you know me?” asked Iviana. She wanted to be certain the woman had truly spoken into her dream.

  “You were here not long ago,” she said. “I warned you not to come.”

  “I don’t understand how you know what I dreamed―how you were able to communicate with me.”

  “You were not truly dreaming, though sleeping you were. You were... dream-walking. I can see things in the spirit realm that others cannot. For instance, you are surrounded by a blinding brilliance that keeps the daemons in these mountains from attacking or attaching to you. It sears the spirit realm like a flaming sword.”

  Iviana nodded, though she hadn’t a clue what the woman was speaking of. Still, it was nice to know. “Why are you here?” She looked about at all the people within the prison. Many of them ignored her, too oppressed to care. Hope gleamed in the eyes of a few others. Some were so wan and pale she was certain they had not seen the light of day for years upon years. All were on the brink of starvation.r />
  A middle-aged couple drew up to the bars before Iviana. “You look familiar,” said the woman.

  Iviana studied the couple thoroughly. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” she admitted.

  The woman’s perplexed expression did not fade, but she said, “I see. I am Shynn and this is my husband Japha. The woman you’ve been speaking with is Jaela.”

  “Jaela? As in―”

  “The cavern,” Shynn supplied. “She is of Jaela’s direct lineage, a granddaughter, if you will. Who, may we ask, are you?”

  “I am Iviana.”

  “How have you discovered this place? You are not of the island.”

  “No, I am not. I dreamed of you this evening and followed my Seeker’s fire.”

  “Then the Great One has shown you. This could mean―”

  “Don’t, Shynn,” said her husband. “It’s no use and not worth this girl’s life.”

  “You must go, Iviana,” urged Jaela. “You must tell no one you have found us.”

  Iviana crossed her arms. “Not before I understand what this is about.”

  Jaela released a huff of breath, as if giving up, but Shynn supplied, “This is where they keep the... uniquely gifted... those with Great Gifts deemed dangerous to the realm.”

  “Dangerous how? The Great Gifts are anointed by the Great One. They are not a danger.”

  “That depends on your interpretation of danger,” said Japha.

  “The council is greedy with power and they fear anything that could prove more powerful than they,” explained Shynn. “Not all share this reason, however. Some are simply uncomfortable with certain gifts. They are ill at ease with anything outside their interpretation of the Great One’s ways. But their closed-mindedness combined with power has made them an enemy to those whom the Great One loves.”

  Iviana grew ill. The council had known about the cannibal island long before she and her friends had found it. Flynn had said he was handling it, but he must not know what secrets the council held. She was not certain of them herself. “The council has imprisoned you here. You have yet to tell me why.”