by Brandon Barr
Barytine stepped from the cart and Rathan listened as he gave Dendryn instructions on where to take the cart.
Through the cracks Rathan watched as the four soldiers and Barytine took off on horses. Dendryn gave a sharp whistle, and more soldiers came to resume a watch over the road. One of them helped Dendryn remove Wyell’s body from the cart.
“Brantieth is trying to frame you,” whispered Monaiella. “Seems a strange tactic. If anyone caught us, it would become clear that I was not your prisoner.”
“He has no other choice,” said Rathan quietly in her ear. “His four hunters have failed and now he’s forced to rely on the soldiers. If he told them the truth—that you are running from him—how would that make him look? These are men who answered to you only days ago.”
“Then all we have to do is show ourselves and they’ll know the truth.”
“Not here,” whispered Rathan. “There may be others involved, the mayor and some of her cadre, and there are still two hunters. They may be nearby. We can trust Dendryn though. When he stops off at Quanthum’s home, then we will show ourselves.”
The cart began again and soon they entered the village square. The shop doors were open, but the street seemed oddly deserted for the time of day. Every few lengths, a soldier stood watch, leaning against a wall. Soon they left the main street of the village and had turned down a thin, snow covered path, Dendryn, the driver became agitated.
One of the horses pulling them gave a frantic whinny.
Dendryn swore, and tried to turn the cart around, but a wheel jolted, and suddenly Rathan felt himself slammed downward as the cart overturned.
Fortunately it had not tipped the other way, or he would have been standing on his head. In the fall, the secret opening to the bench had swung open, and Rathan climbed out quickly, taking in his surroundings with his sword drawn.
The first thing he saw was the cart’s tracks in the snow and the rock protruding from the ground that had thrown the cart over.
A thunderous roar spun him around, and there, towering over the cart stood a great white bear. The creature’s eyes were on Dendryn, who back-peddled, his sword thrust out and wobbling in his unsteady hands.
Dendryn glanced at Rathan, surprised by his sudden appearance, then turned and plodded headlong back down the wheel-marked trail cut in the snow.
The bear growled and lumbered after him at a terrible speed.
“Rathan!” called Ella, climbing free of the bench. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward where the cart had strayed from its path.
He stopped as he entered a long, snow-covered lane running off in the distance. Briefly he looked back to where Dendryn had run and saw the man flailing through the snow. The bear was nearly upon him, but then it stopped suddenly.
It watched Dendryn’s flight for the briefest moment, then slowly turned its head, and stared straight at them.
“Come on!” said Ella, pulling at his arm, and he fell in behind her as she ran down the white powdered lane.
Far in the distance he saw the shape of a small building. He looked back over his shoulder.
The bear was there. It had left Dendryn and was charging swiftly towards them.
There was something terrifying and unnatural about the creature’s movements. Why had it abandoned Dendryn? It could have had a meal of him within a few more steps. And then there was the way the bear had turned to look at he and Ella…not like a bear at all.
“We’re not going to make it,” said Rathan. “Can you draw your sword against the animal?”
“I could draw it, but I couldn’t use it. Any sword but mine I could use.”
“Get to the house,” he said, then stopped and turned.
“I’m not leaving you,” he heard her say from behind, but his eyes were fixed on the massive white form that slowed as it neared him. The bear stood upon its hind legs, its head higher than two men stacked one upon the other.
The bear ducked as it passed under a high branch, then it stopped.
One moment it stood there, a colossal beast, the next, it diminished, as if only a mirage, and there stood before them a man. His face was covered by a dense grey beard. He wore a bearskin cloak, much like Ella’s, only the large, white, eyeless head hung like a hood over his brow, covering his long brown hair.
“I am Quanthum. We must hurry, he may have spotted us already.”
CHAPTER 8
MONAIELLA
She stared, barely comprehending the words of the man who moments ago had been a bear she thought about to tear her and Rathan to pieces. In all the stories of history, there was nothing that prepared her for what she’d just witnessed.
But the bear-clad man had spoken a name, and that was the only word she’d heard. The name echoed in her mind.
“You’re Quanthum?” she said, struggling to collect her wits.
“Yes, and if you wish to live, you must trust me.”
“If you are him, then I have something for you,” she said. She watched the man’s black eyes dart behind her, to the road and the house at her back.
“Keep hold of it for now,” said Quanthum, waving for her and Rathan to follow. “He may kill you if you give it to me just yet. Come, we’re not safe here in the open.”
She followed him hesitantly, glancing at Rathan as the man led them off the path and into the woods.
“Is that not your home we saw on the road?” Rathan asked. “The man driving the cart was taking us there.”
“It’s mine, but someone has been there. I’ve been hiding in the woods, waiting for you.”
“Hiding as a bear?” asked Rathan. “What are you?”
“I am a man,” said Quanthum, “however, I have been given a unique gift.”
“No gift of Hearth,” said Ella. “I know them all.”
“I am not from Hearth. I come from a constellation of stars called Deep Black. It is the only collection of worlds where my gift can be found. We defeated the Beasts there and the Guardians as well…a long story, for another time.”
“How did you know the Old Seer?”
He looked back at her, his dark eyes seeking for an answer. “There are many old seers. Which seer do you speak of?”
She brushed aside a scraggy sapling. “How did you know we were coming?”
“Ah, I see,” said Quanthum. “You are referring to the one who gave you the memory leaf. I don’t know the man, only the prophecy. That’s why I’ve come to Hearth. Been hiding here for two years, waiting for it to come to pass.
“Who is it you’re hiding from?” asked Rathan. “And where are we going?”
“The man we’re both in need of avoiding is a Guardian, an assassin of Oracles. He kills the god-gifted.”
Ella’s head swam with the exotic names. The mysterious universe outside her own world fascinated her. Somehow, the Makers seemed to have woven her story into it all. Could she really be a part of something so large, a thing beyond the borders of her understanding?
“You didn’t answer my other question,” said Rathan. “Where are you taking us?”
“To my ship. I’ve kept it hidden under water for the last few years. All we need to do is reach the lake shore, and then it should be safe for you to hand over the memory leaf.”
They followed Quanthum in silence, the only sound was the constant crunch of snow beneath their feet. Ella was lost in the eye of her mind, enchanted by the musings stirred up from all that Quanthum had said. And besides that, she wondered if she and Rathan were now safe, having met the Old Seer’s contact. Were the two promises now set in stone? Was she safe to live out her days and deliver a Healer unto the world?
“You said a man is searching for you,” said Rathan.
“Yes.”
“Is his name Raem?”
Quanthum stopped and spun around so quickly, the great clawed paw of his bear fur coat swung out as if to attack. “He found you then?”
Rathan drew back, as if the man might transform back into a beast. “He tried to t
ake the memory leaf from us,” said Rathan. “I cut off his hand. It had silver running down the back of it.”
Quanthum glanced up into the brooding clouds, his dark, shadowed eyes half hidden beneath the snout of the great head drooping over his brow. “Come along,” he said, uneasily. “If you’d only cut off his head instead of his hand we could…”
Quanthum stopped, his black eyes drew down to Ella’s face, but not quite. Then she realized he was glaring at something behind her.
“Raem,” said Quanthum. “How did you find me?”
Ella turned. There stood the man in the strange white uniform. Stranger still was the sight of his silvery hand. It hung naturally at his side, as if Rathan’s blade had never touched it.
“The memory leaf betrayed you,” said Raem to Quanthum. “A beacon lies embedded within it. We’ve been searching for that signal ever since it was stolen from our library eons ago. How it ended up on this primitive world, we may never know.”
Quanthum’s dark eyes turned as hard and sharp as hewn obsidian.
Raem smirked. “And, it seems I’ve arrived just in time.” His eyes turned to Ella. “You are the Oracle bearer, and though it saddens me to tell you this, the child in your womb must die along with Quanthum. The work of the Makers must be undone. As cruel as that sounds, crueler still would be to let your child live. If you comply with my commands, I promise to spare you and your sword-wielding friend.”
Rathan took a step toward Raem, but Ella put a hand against his chest.
“How do you know I am with child?” she asked.
“The memory leaf contains thousands of prophecies. One of them regards you and your son.” Raem looked back to Quanthum. “Give me the leaf.”
“Why? So you can kill me without damaging it? I know you only have a quarter of the information contained in the leaf.”
“Yes, valuable knowledge to whoever owns it, but I’d rather it burn than remain in your hands,” said Raem. “As long as Deep Black never sees the leaf, I am content to destroy it if I must.” He raised his silver-inlaid hand. “Give it to me, or I’ll char the Oracle-bearer until she sizzles.”
Fear seized Ella as she stared at the deceptively beautiful hand, memories of men contorting in the snow, fire and smoke fuming from every orifice of their body.
Quanthum reached his hand slowly into the skins of his cloak. “If you promise not to hurt her, I’ll give it to you.” He drew something dark from his bearskins and tossed it.
She knew one thing: it wasn’t the memory leaf, for the leaf rested beneath her own clothing.
Raem reached out with his hand to grab it, and then the object burst in a deafening blast that knocked Ella backwards.
Her mind was dizzy when the white-haired arm came out of the smoke and wrapped around her. She felt herself lifted out of the snow, then tucked against a massive chest that was soft with fur. Her feet dangled just above the ground and she looked back through blurred vision and briefly glimpsed Rathan racing behind her and Quanthum, his sword drawn.
“You could have killed her!” shouted Rathan.
Quanthum only growled, and Ella clung to the great warm body as he carried her through the woods. She guessed it was about a quarter hour before they stopped and she was set on the ground.
When she looked up at him, he was a man again.
“My transport is just beyond that rise,” he said, pointing to a distant outcrop of snow covered rock. “Beneath the frozen waters of Talc Lake.”
“Will Ella be safe?” asked Rathan angrily, breathing hard as he came alongside her. Ella reached out her hand and touched the side of Rathan’s reddened face. “It is my duty to protect her,” he continued. “Why don’t you take the memory leaf and be gone?”
“Soon enough, but for now, that leaf may keep her alive,” said Quanthum as he waved for them to follow him again. They quickly fell in behind him.
“He doesn’t want to destroy it,” continued Quanthum. “Only under dire circumstance would he do so. It has too much value to him, as it does me and all the people in the worlds orbiting the stars of Deep Black.”
Ella’s mind fixated on questions surrounding the mysterious leaf. “What does the memory leaf have that is so valuable?” she asked.
“It contains the names and locations of other Oracles scattered throughout the galaxy. And more crucial, other prophesied constellations like my own. You live in one such constellation. It is called the Triangle, the head of the Huntress’s spear as seen from a world called Seedling. From Seedling, all the prophesied constellations can be seen. Although the people of Deep Black have only a partial knowledge of these prophesies, the memory leaf contains all of them. While my people are ready to go and fight to protect the prophesies, Raem and the Gaurdians want to stop them while they are yet words unborn, still in the womb, like your son.”
Quanthum turned his head and a hot blaze burned in his dark eyes. “He seeks to end your child’s life because, if he is born, he will be god-gifted. That’s why you must carry the leaf until I kill him or draw him away from Hearth. He wouldn’t dare use his weapon against you and risk damaging the leaf. At present, it is your only protection from him.”
“I would beg to differ,” said Rathan.
Suddenly Quanthum’s dark eyes lifted to the treetops. A sound fluttered overhead, like a flag rippling in a gale, and Ella glanced up. A great form hovered over the trees, like an arrowhead, serrated and deadly, but with angles and contours that passed beyond the pale of anything she’d ever imagined.
“Follow me!” shouted Quanthum.
She and Rathan chased after the bear-man through the dense wood, the branches of the trees obscuring the form soaring over the treetops, like a bird of prey stalking mice through a thicket of weeds.
A light flashed and Ella felt herself lifted off the ground, felt a pain in her head, and then her senses dimmed and darkness closed around her like teeth.
CHAPTER 9
MONAIELLA
Ella opened her eyes.
The sensation of ice burned cold against her back, the chill needling through her cloak and leathers. She sat up and immediately felt a dizzying pain at the base of her skull.
How long had she been laying there?
The tree trunks spun around her, and there was smoke and fire. She braced herself, lest she fall back and hit her head. Slowly her vision steadied.
She stood, her legs shaky.
A smoldering crater laid like a wound in the earth several paces to her right. Smoke billowed from it, and the branches of the surrounding trees crackled with fire. Near the crater lay Quanthum, his bearskins torn, the snow around his lower half splashed red with blood.
“My Lady,” said Rathan, stumbling through the snow towards her, a trickle of red running down the side of his face. “Come with me. He’ll be here any moment.”
“No,” she said. “I’ll not leave until I’ve completed the task I was given.”
Rathan reached for her and took her arm. “He’ll kill you.”
She wrested her arm from Rathan’s hand and hurried to where Quanthum lay.
“You heard the man with the silver hand,” she said. “He’s going to kill our son. He’ll find us. We can’t hide from him. The only way forward is to fulfill the seer’s words.”
Rathan plodded behind her. “Put the leaf in Quanthum’s hand, and then we go.”
She didn’t respond, and as she approached the man, his eyes opened. She knelt beside him, and was tempted to place the memory leaf in his hand and depart, but she felt certain to do so would not satisfy the mission the Old Seer, nor the Makers, had given her to fulfill.
Further, Quanthum was god-gifted, strange as his gift was, and that meant he was an ally and a friend.
The bear-man’s eyes seemed alert despite the blood and the burnt skin of his legs. He opened his mouth to speak, and she leaned close. “Keep the leaf,” he whispered, “and stay close to me. He’s here.”
She looked up and scanned the trees. Her e
yes almost passed over the man moving through the trees toward her, blended into the white snow.
Raem’s face was rigid. A dark, unnerving smile pulled at his lips. “Very clever of him,” said Raem. “Such a precious item, I’d have thought he’d have taken the leaf for safekeeping.”
“You can’t have it,” said Ella, reaching into her cloak. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the otherworldly device. She felt a reassuring touch from Rathan who stood beside her, and out of the corner of her eye, saw his hand slip to his sword hilt.
Raem stepped carefully through the snow toward them, his silver hand raised.
“I don’t want to kill you, Monaiella, but I will. I only ask that you give me the device, and your child. With just a touch of my hand, I can close your womb forever. Your future child has been cursed with a gift, an abominable defect, worse than a malformed limb or a subnormal mind.”
Ella’s hand fell from the device in her pocket, to her stomach, covering the child that might be.
“My son is to be a Healer, what harm is there in that?”
“Great harm, I’m afraid,” said Raem, eyeing the body of Quanthum. “Your son would heal those the Makers set in his path. He would draw men and women toward the cruel gods. He could set in motion further prophecies. The god-gifted are dangerous and must be stopped.”
Raem paused close to where she and Rathan stood. “If you want to live, come here,” he said to her. Then to Rathan, “You stay. I’ve felt the pinch of that sword once before, and I’d rather not again.”
Ella stood frozen, her thoughts a flurry of choices, each leading to death. She couldn’t allow him to have her son, but if she didn’t obey him, he would kill her, the child, and Rathan too.”
Under her breath she pled to the gods for intervention.
“I’ll not ask again,” said Raem, raising his deadly arm at her. “Come here. All it will take is a light touch from my hand, you’ll feel only coldness and—”