Son Of Skye

by Thérèse Pilon

  Long after the messenger had left, Lord Moshat sat, gazing into the fire’s flickering depths; wondering.

  § § § § § §

  Thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the wind, Timothy struggled to rise. Coughing from the dust, blinded by flying debris, he bent forward into the wind’s fury, determined to reach the cavern and Nickolous.

  Nickolous staggered to his feet. Shaking his head, he wiped the wetness that ran from his forehead into his eyes.

  The embers from the fire had been scattered during the scuffle, and the creature, still weakened from Nickolous’s blow, lay panting in the darkened corner. Its yellow eyes glowed eerily, and the jagged tear that ran down its side was dark with a glossy wetness that deepened with each sudden movement. However, it was a deceiving wound, and Nickolous knew that it was only a matter of moments before the thing would be powerful enough to do what it had been sent to do. Rising slowly, cautiously, he edged toward the cavern’s opening, hoping to make it outside into the light and fresh air before the changeling recovered its strength.

  Snarling angrily, the creature reared upright, guessing Nickolous’s intent as it studied him through narrowed eyes. Knowing its limitations, and that it was still too weak to turn into something more powerful, it leapt with surprising strength at the darting figure—and missed. Howls of rage filled the empty cavern as the creature raced after its prey.

  Nickolous hit the ground rolling as an angry roaring filled his ears. In an instant, he was on his feet and running. The stand of majestic oak trees was straight ahead, and it was toward these that he fled. He could almost feel the heated breath of the thing behind him as he looked up at the sound of his name being called above the wind’s wailing cry.

  “Timothy!” The words were shouted out as he was forced to the ground by something unseen. The wind was like a funnel, encasing him momentarily in a cocoon of safety, as a blood-curdling shriek rent the air behind him.

  § § § § § §

  Timothy, bent almost double against the wind’s onslaught, was determined to reach the cavern and Nickolous. As the wind roared around him, he saw a form barreling toward him and the changeling not far behind. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. Frozen, unable to move, battered by the wind, he could see what Nicko-lous could not. Then, there were only the two of them, and where the changeling had been, there was nothing—nothing save the imprints of its feet in the sodden earth, where it had reared upright as if to meet an enemy in battle.

  It was as Timothy bent down to help Nickolous up that he spotted something glinting and partially buried in the clay like mix of soil. Warily, using the tip of his dagger, he picked up the ornately carved arm bracelet as Nickolous unerringly reached out and took it, placing it on his forearm where it nestled against his skin. It was a perfect fit.

  “Timothy.” Wordlessly they clasped forearms. Now that the danger was past, both gave in to the sheer pleasure of being reunited again.

  “Sarah and the Old One—they are safe?”

  “They’re but a short distance from here; over there, just inside that stand of oaks.” Timothy motioned toward the forest, all the while grinning delightedly.

  Nickolous drew in his breath. His friend looked haggard, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there when Nicko-lous had left; with a start, he realized that his friend had aged in the short time he had been gone.

  “How long?” Nickolous asked quietly, as Timothy sheathed his sword.

  “Many turnings have passed; too many since the battle.” Timothy reached out to touch Nickolous’s shoulder gently, as if to assure himself that he was real; that he wasn’t dreaming. “The peace lasted but a short time.” His brow furrowed thoughtfully as he asked, “Leah, she is well?”

  “She was fine the last time I saw her,” Nickolous replied as he absently traced the intricate patterns of the bracelet with a forefinger. “Wait a minute, with everything that’s happened, I nearly forgot—I can’t be sure, mind you, but I think that she came through with me.”

  Timothy gasped, alarmed. Somehow, the Old One must have brought them both back; either that, or someone else had drawn her through. He shook his head in bewilderment, knowing that he would have to seek out someone with more knowledge than what he had in these matters.

  “Come.” Timothy turned toward the forest where Sarah and the Old One waited, motioning for Nickolous to follow. “Come,” he said again. “Perhaps the Old One will have some answers,” he muttered more to himself than anyone else as Nickolous strode to catch up.

  § § § § § §

  Chera crouched in the dense foliage, her keen sense of smell telling her that her quarry was close by—she grinned to herself—the youngest of the wood clans would have moved more quietly then this one. As the rustling in the underbrush grew louder, Chera pressed herself further back to wait.

  § § § § § §

  Leah had been startled to find herself suddenly alone in the thick mist. At first she thought her brother had gone back to the house, but as she walked further, she realized that she was nowhere near the house; and to make matters worse, she was sure that something or someone was following her. Determined not to bolt blindly into the unknown, she fixed her gaze on the faint pinprick of light off to her left, and keeping her gait at a leisurely pace, she began to move steadily toward it. Every now and then, she would pause to listen, certain that she could hear the soft pad-pad of footsteps behind her.

  § § § § § §

  Owen flew low as he scanned the hidden places beneath for unwanted watchers, for it would be here, in this densely covered forest, that the unseen would be watching. He veered sharply to the left as a loping form caught his attention. The skinny, gray creature paused at the edge of the clearing, gazing furtively about before continuing on as Owen watched from his perch atop the ancient gnarled tree. The sudden silence was nearly unnerving; even for him.

  Something was following the scraggly creature, something that triggered familiarity and loathing deep within his memories—memories that were within all beings; a gift from the elders of the before times, dormant in most, though some had been gifted with the ability to draw those memories from deep within. It was those beings who became the teachers and respected elders, who taught those who wanted and sought knowledge. But there were also those who used the gift of the remembering for darker things to further their own power, and it was to this end that Owen and others like him struggled to even the odds.

  The heavily robed figure followed the lone sentinel at a distance—not because he feared there would be any resistance to his passage, for it was his presence that instilled fear, and it was that fear which gave him power. As he moved out into the open, he paused, aware that he was being watched and that the watcher did not fear him, but loathed him and his kind. Still…

  With a half turn, he acknowledged the white owl’s presence; then moved forward into the open, which afforded little protection. Aware that some of the smaller of the forest clans were peering from their burrows and dens, he drew himself up and, throwing a portion of his cloak over a shoulder, strode forward so that the distance between himself and the lone sentinel lessened.

  Owen turned away in disgust. Lord Nhon! He had not expected to see that one in the pure light of day. Waiting to see no more, he flew westward while, on the ground below, the hooded one paused long enough to glance upward at the departing form, his thin lips parted in a grotesque grin.

  “Enter.” A-Sharoon barely looked up from her work as the creature sidled in, head down, feet shuffling nervously as it awaited its mistress’s notice; it was some moments before she stopped what she was doing. Still, she never looked up from her work; deeming the one before her much too insignificant and therefore beneath her direct notice. “Well, what is it? What is so important you would interrupt me at my work?” She raised a midnight black brow questioni
ngly.

  “The veil was lifted. Even without the woman, they have somehow been pulled back.” The messenger backed warily toward the door, ready to flee for its life. Its mistress’s temper was legendary.

  Drawing herself up to her full height, A-Sharoon dismissed the informant with a wave of her hand. As the creature scurried out of sight, she crossed the cavernous room in one swift fluid motion; pulling the thick hide covering across the doorway, she wedged the edges tightly into the crevice. The sentries on watch outside did not need to be told that no one would be allowed entrance until the covering was removed.

  § § § § § §

  The cavern was damp, the musty smell permeating everything within while the small fire offered little warmth to the woman hunched over it. She placed another piece of green wood upon it, watching silently as it hissed against the flames that tried to consume it. Drawing the thin woolen blanket about her shoulders, she ignored the grating sound behind her as the heavy door, hewn from rock and moved by a cleverly hidden mechanism, creaked inward. Nor did she turn at the sound of footsteps as someone entered the room and moved toward her, choosing instead to gaze into the flickering flames as the heavily robed figure towered over her.

  A-Sharoon glared at the woman’s back and cursed her silently. She knew—had always known—that she would never break this one to her will. She smiled inwardly and chose her words carefully. She would let this captive know that it was only a matter of time before she and hers were defeated and destroyed. As she spoke, she noted with satisfaction the effect her words were having as the woman rose gracefully, and turning, faced her.

  Slowly, the woman drew her hood back to reveal fine features and long, flowing auburn hair. Large brown eyes met black as a slender hand came up to touch the silver amulet that hung delicately about her throat. For long moments, she remained silent; her gaze locked with that of her captor; listening. Words, softly spoken, carried strength. ‘What you seek, you will not find. You will destroy yourself with this quest, and any who follow you, Daughter of the Night.”

  The fire, little more than glowing embers, flared suddenly against the wood, flames climbing up and over the logs to catch and hold. The sudden warmth seemed to envelop both women as A-Sharoon shifted her gaze to glance uneasily around the cavern. She felt the unseen presence watching but shook off the inner warning, confident in her own abilities. Once again, she fixed her gaze on her captive, only to find herself confronted instead with a frothy swirling mist that curled against her, the dampness seeking—

  The woman she had sought to hold as ransom in her battle was gone. Only the tattered robe she had been given to ward off the never-ending dampness remained, crumpled in a heap at her feet.

  7

  Leah walked steadily, her gait unhurried, pausing now and then to examine the flowering honeysuckles that sprang up wild everywhere, their fragrance sweet and honeyed. The whir-whir of the tiny hummingbirds could be heard as they darted about from plant to plant, quarrelling over the contents within. Leah ducked as one of the small creatures, in a bid to escape an irate neighbor, whizzed past her head. As she turned to watch its acrobatics, she felt, rather than saw, the sudden furtive movement of something concealing itself within the forest’s shadows.

  § § § § § §

  Chera waited patiently, thankful that she had caught Leah’s scent before anything else had. The identity of the thing that followed doggedly behind her was unmistakable. She settled back to wait, her lips curled in a grimace of loathing.

  As Leah hurried past the thicket where Chera lay concealed, she felt the unseen watching her; unaware that it was Chera who watched, she panicked and ran, the branches tearing at her arms and face as she stumbled over the rough ground. Unheeding of the gnarled limbs of ancient trees that reached out to embrace her passage amongst them, she never saw the deep leaf-covered pit that once had brimmed with water from an underground passage, and as the moldy leaves covering the edge, slippery from the night’s frost, gave way beneath her weight, she disappeared into the ancient tunnel, too surprised to cry out.

  § § § § § §

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Timothy had moved to stand in front of Nickolous; his small dagger unsheathed as he held it out of sight at his side. They had come to the edge of the clearing and were about to go into the dense underbrush to where Sarah and the Old One waited.

  “It’s Leah. Something’s happened.” Nickolous spoke softly, his attention riveted on the small grove of massive oak trees straight ahead. “I can’t sense her. She’s somewhere where our thoughts can’t touch each other.”

  “She’s safe—for now.”

  Old One, it’s good to see you!” Nickolous lifted the Old One up and hugged her. “How do you know? Can you see her?” Nickolous asked as he gently set her down.

  The elder looked up at him and marveled at how tall he had grown since the last time she had seen him. “I can’t see her, but I can sense her, and I sense that she is not afraid; in fact, she seems to be quite calm. That’s more than I can say for you!” The Old One laughed as Nickolous swept Sarah up and around as she squealed in delight at the return of the boy, now a young man, who was once again with them.

  Timothy, watching the three of them, felt a fierce pride and an inner knowledge that they were no longer quite as alone as before. “Come, we must seek the safety of the forest; there are too many eyes here.” Timothy knew better then to risk being in the open any longer. Hurriedly, the four friends gathered their belongings and pushed deeper into the forest’s depths, the cool shade a welcome change from the stifling heat of the day.

  § § § § § §

  The leaves had filled the passage where Leah had fallen, leaving a musty odor that masked her scent. Still, Chera’s senses told her that this was where the trail ended. Not knowing what awaited her in the darkness below her feet, and unsure whether others followed the path of A-Sharoon’s most recently dispatched sentinel, Chera wasted no time in returning to where Gabriel and the others waited. By the time Gabriel and the others returned with her, the day’s shadows had lengthened into the quickening of the night. In silence, they stood above the rim of the pit, each deep in thought, until finally Jerome spoke, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest as he tapped his war club against a trunk-like leg.

  “This is an ancient place of knowing, where the Old Ones gathered long ago to share their knowledge, hopes, and dreams. In this place there was safety and peace; nothing evil could penetrate the caverns below.” Jerome paused as he looked at the anxious faces gathered about him; his own thoughts were racing ahead, trying to figure out what to do. It was a hard thing, this knowing what others did not; for a part of him knew Leah was safe, but another part of him felt the breath of evil following their passage. A huge hand thoughtfully stroked a craggy face as he made up his mind. They could not risk any more delays and, as important as Leah was, for now, she was safe. One of them would stay to guard the entrance, while the rest would traverse the path that would take them to the guardian.

  It was no surprise then that, a little while later, it was Chera who remained behind to guard the place that hid Leah within its unknown depths.

  § § § § § §

  “That was delicious.” Nickolous leaned back against the giant tree trunk that shaded him, as well as those gathered about him. Sarah nodded her thanks for the compliment as she tidied up the remains of their simple meal.

  The Old One had attempted to help but had gently been told to rest, which she had without argument. As she settled herself beside Nicko-lous, she sighed deeply. Her aging body was telling her it was time to slow down. Everyone laughed when she mentioned it, for it was hard to believe that the Old One could ever just sit back and observe without being in the midst of everything.

  Even Nickolous laughed, much to the Old Lady’s chagrin. She reached out and patted him gently, her black eyes searching his l
ight blue ones, and he sobered; for he saw and he knew what the others did not: what had begun turnings ago as an adventure was now a quest.

  § § § § § §

  Sarah and the Old One had fallen asleep earlier, and Timothy was hunched over the small fire, stirring the embers absently with a stick while Nickolous watched him thoughtfully; his own thoughts wandering, and so it was that the sudden appearance of the warrior before them, wraithlike, startled them.

  Timothy leapt to his feet, at the same time drawing his sword. He felt a hand on his shoulder holding him back.

  “Wait, my friend,” Nickolous spoke gently, as he peered at the shimmering vision that slowly beckoned them, a long slim finger pointing eastward. With a turn, dark wings unfurled, and the visitor vanished, leaving behind only the scented breeze in the deepening twilight.

  Timothy turned toward Nickolous, his expression puzzled as he slowly sheathed his sword. But Nickolous wasn’t looking at him. His arm was tingling as if a thousand pins were pressing upon him; and it was the worst where the bracelet was, clasped around his upper arm.

  Nickolous and Timothy both stared as the bracelet almost became transparent, the silver shimmering in the shadows cast by the fire’s eerie glow mesmerizing them; pulling at their senses as the metal changed in appearance. Nearly translucent now, it changed yet again, and when next they looked, a silver bracelet glinted back.

  Timothy reached out to touch the bracelet, only to find himself being flung backward by an unseen force. Shaking himself, he rose quickly to his feet and stood staring down at the intricate silver armlet that encircled his friend’s arm.