Unfortunately, that meant risking his neck, and the necks of his future hatchlings after him in turn, by traveling along with these stupid bozos who were now being chased by Black Wolves again.
And the second message he had received at Coe Aela, to be delivered to Coe Kiki after Sir Nickleby’s message…it wasn’t meant for the ears of Basha and his friends, but it might have been important to them at this point.
Rule #9 of Being a Royal Messenger Bird, Keep your wings clean, trim long pinions. Rule #10, Refresh your mind with memory tricks. Rule #11, Be quick in flight, but remember to rest, and Rule #12--Keep on task, Do Not Delay With Flocks.
Why had he not followed this rule? Perhaps he wasn’t the smartest bird, apparently ravens, crows, and parrots were smarter than he was, but that didn’t stop him from trying and failing to be smart. And he would be punished for it.
Part Two: Coe Aela
Chapter 8: Welcome
We come from all around, we come from every
Town. We seek food and shelter, warmth and hearth,
Happiness and safety too. Well, you are in luck, for you
Have found it here, Welcome to the Smiling Stallion inn!
--The Smiling Stallion Inn song, Arria
Iibala raced down the road, not even bothering to take one of the horses out of the stables when the animal would only mess her sense up. Somewhere up ahead of her, someone was dying, and she had to stop it somehow. The sense of death she had was common to her, especially living so close to the cemetery with the standing stones; she hated experiencing that sense of death nearly every day. But this time it was different. It was closer, it was fresher, and it was dying, not dead already. If she could stop the dying, it would end her sense of it.
Her father’s ranch was located about five miles or so outside of town proper on the northeast road that would lead all the way to the Oracle of Mila’s cave. If she wanted to go anywhere besides the cave, she had to go south to the main road, which was intersected by the northeast road at the point it started to turn south to avoid the graveyard. She had to pass by the graveyard every time she went into town. It annoyed her, messed up her senses every time.
She wished she had ridden a horse. Iibala slowed down, huffing and puffing. Had she really been running for...two miles now? Oh, this was exhausting! Why had she been running all this way? It was urgent, yes, but she didn’t have to kill herself over it. She landed against a rock, huffing and puffing, and stared up at a menhir. Oh, why…she recoiled in disgust, trembling as she felt death, and more; there was someone here already. She turned away, and saw, sitting on top of a rock, a figure she recognized. Could that be Sisila? What was she doing out here? The feeling of death Iibala had was growing stronger.
She approached slowly, not wanting to alarm Sisila, and apprehensive as well about the baron’s youngest daughter being out here. There was no reason for her to be, so early in the morning, and yet--could she be connected to this sense?
Sisila looked up and gasped. “Iibala?” She called.
“Yes, it’s me!” Iibala called back, coming up to the rock—not a dolmen, at least.
“What are you doing out--” Sisila said, turning around on top of the rock to face her.
“I might ask you the same question.” Iibala said.
Sisila sighed. “I was...trying to reconcile...have you ever had a strange dream, a vision of sorts if you will? One so vivid that you can’t believe it’s not real?”
Iibala hesitated. “I’ve had dreams of those sorts, of horses and men. Some of them intertwined with me.” She smiled wickedly.
Sisila blinked and frowned. “You’ve been around too many stallions.” Sisila remarked before she turned away and said, “I’ve had dreams of those sort as well, of life-like quality and not--well, of horses and men.” She gulped.
“Then you don’t have a very good imagination, Sisila.” Iibala said.
“Anyway, last night I had a dream unlike any other I’ve had before,” Sisila continued, “But it haunted me. Of figures standing out here around an open grave, waiting to lower down an empty coffin. Jawen, Geda, Habala, Lapo, the mayor, my father, even you and I were out here standing amongst the townspeople, dressed in mourning black, not far from the grave of Kala, Basha’s mother. I wanted to scream at them to stop.” She lowered her head.
“Sisila, that’s not altogether uncommon, to have such a horrible nightmare, considering what you have been through.” Iibala said. “My father, your beloved Oaka, and dear, sweet Basha are gone, off on a quest for Jawen, wretched though it might be. Natural that you might think that--” Iibala hesitated a moment. She did not want to say ‘they might be dead’, for there was a likelihood that it might occur. “However, do not fret, for though my father can be annoying, he is still a knight. He has years of experience under his belt, and though his best years might be behind him--”
“It’s not just that, Iibala.” Sisila said, turning back to her. “Are you in love with Basha?” She asked.
Iibala burst out laughing. “I’m not--I might be attracted to him, and I might have grown fond of him, but no, right now I’m not in love with him.” She sighed. “I was trying to get to him at the Courtship ritual because--well, because he’s improved a lot since I dated him several years ago,” She turned to Sisila. “Do you know what I did to him then?” She asked.
“You dumped him for an older man, laughed in his face when he caught you two together, and then said that he wasn’t a man. Oaka told me so.” Sisila said, glaring at her.
“That’s right, but Basha has grown up a lot since then, and I’ve seen that I was wrong, I’ve seen that--well, he has great potential.” Iibala said. With what her father had suspected, Iibala thought it might be a good idea to be on the tiger’s side. “I wasn’t about to let that go to Jawen without a fight. I did not like the idea of Jawen getting any more than she already had, for Jawen does have a lot because of her father.”
Sisila shook her head. “Well, if you had felt true love for Basha, you would have known that true love means sharing a soul, of sorts.” Sisila said, turning around to face the graveyard. “I felt that I was in the grave, in the coffin, as well as standing amongst the mourners. Despite the normal life of the town going on behind me, despite the graveyard and the burial now my limbo, I felt my soul connect to Oaka, and I knew where he was, that he was still alive, even though in grave danger. He was still alive and standing right next to me almost three hundred miles away.”
Iibala opened her mouth, about to say something important to Sisila in the form of some advice, when they spotted movement from the main road, not far from Sisila’s rock, and--she knew what it was.
“Father!” She cried, running toward the familiar horse with its rider draped across its back, barely noticing the other rider keeping pace alongside. The sense of dying was stronger than ever before.
She reached the horse, and raised her head. “Oh, father,” She gasped, staring at the wounds barely healed all over his body. Skin and muscle had been torn off in some places, barely revealing bone, and he appeared to be in agony still, a pained expression on his pale face.
“Is he okay?” Sisila asked, just catching up with her.
“Is this man--” A voice started to say, and they stared up at the woman riding alongside him, a woman in her 30s as hard as the rocks that surrounded her with brown hair.
“He is my father.” Iibala said, “What happened to him?”
“He was attacked by wolves as far as I can tell,” The woman nodded. “I’ve done the best I could do, but he needs to rest. I’ve brought him back here as fast as I safely could, as he said he lived in Coe Baba when he was coherent. Other times, he said Coe Kiki, and some other places.” She added.
Sir Nickleby moaned. “Iibala?” He asked, opening his eyes.
“I’m here, father,” She said, reaching up to grasp his hand, though he flinched. She did not blame him. She now realized how weak, how old, and how hurt he was after this attack. “Can you come with us bac
k to our home?” Iibala now asked the woman. “We may need some help getting him inside.”
“Of course. I have to, as it is my duty.” The woman remarked. “Grab the reins of his horse, Iibala, and lead the way.”
“What is your name?” Sisila asked the woman as Iibala did as she was bid, and they started off towards Iibala’s home.
“I am Mirari.” The woman said.
“Mirari the healer from Coe Ryn?” Sisila asked.
“Yes. I was on my way here from Coe Anji. Right at the start of the season, the ship dropped me off there, just a little bit earlier than usual this year, as a matter of fact. And I happened across Sir Nickleby and his horse right along the roadside about a hundred miles from here.” Mirari shook her head. “What was he doing out there?” She asked.
“It’s a long story.” Sisila remarked, glancing at Iibala. How could they share such a story now to a near stranger?
Mirari the healer? How was it possible that Mirari had found-- “It’s a blessing you found him,” Iibala managed to say, although she wondered why this had happened. It was now the 14th day of Markee, approximately 8 days since Basha, Oaka, and her father Sir Nickleby had left Coe Baba on Basha’s quest. Eight days, and already her father was on the brink of death. What had happened to Oaka and Basha? She hoped they were okay. Sisila had said Oaka was, that she had felt him last night, but what about Basha? It was almost like, whatever had happened, this quest was doomed. And she knew who to blame.
A sable passant bear wavered in the field of white that hovered above the turrets and battlements of Coe Aela, a rectangular limestone castle of immeasurable age at the edge of Mila Forest. Guards walked along the allure, or wall-walk behind the parapets of the curtain walls, keeping up their rounds even though there was no enemy to fight anymore. They saluted their commanding officers, especially Captain Goga, commander of all the guards, whenever they did pass by them. Otherwise, there was nothing else for them to do except to watch.
Suddenly, they heard howling in the distance and they stopped to turn their heads towards the north, where most of Mila Forest was spread out in front of them, with the mountains and hills of the Popo Hills region beginning behind them towards the south. The howling was of numerous strains, yet all echoing one another in the end and coming this way.
Goga ordered some of his men to follow him towards the gatehouse, while a few of his men were sent down into the bailey to stand on either side of the gate, ready to fight if any unwelcomed invaders managed to get through, although the portcullis currently was lowered.
Marlo, the old steward of the castle, stepped outside to see what all of the fuss was about, as the servants coming inside the castle were complaining and gossiping amongst one another about what was happening. Marlo wanted to squelch any rumors that anything amiss was going on, as he had to see to it that the servants were well-content with their lot in life and ready to serve, but he had a feeling that he could not scrub this emergency away from their minds.
“Marlo?” A voice he instantly said just inside the doorway.
Marlo turned around, and bowed. “My lord.” He whispered.
“What is going on?” The lord asked, staring up at the wall in fear.
“It will be all right, my lord,” Marlo said, feeling a need to reassure the man he had helped to take care of since birth.
Goga had two men stand by on the winch, ready to raise the portcullis if he felt so kind as to let someone through. He knew that the howling meant something, he could almost understand what they were saying. If these were just ordinary wolves chasing something through the forest, he had nothing to fear, but it was rare for a whole pack of wolves to be howling like this in the middle of the morning. If it was Black Wolves, Hyena Wolves, however, then he had much to fear. He also needed to know just what they were chasing.
“Hava!” He called, turning around.
His dark-haired secretary, who appeared to be in his early thirties, was standing right behind him. “What is it, Captain Goga?” Hava asked, annoyed.
“Bring me my telescope,” Goga said, pointing down.
“All the way in the barracks?” Hava asked, appalled.
“Now, Hava, and be quick about it!” Goga told him.
Hava sighed, and started jogging off along the allure towards the rear of the castle grounds, as the stairs there led down towards the barracks. Goga shook his head at the man’s incompetence, already wishing to be rid of him as he turned back around to peer out into the distance.
“What is going on?” He heard a voice boom loudly from below behind him, and Goga grimaced as he turned towards the center of the bailey, for standing there was none other than Lord Fobata, Duke of Coe Aela, with Marlo the steward just behind him.
“I have yet to ascertain the full extent of the danger, your Grace,” Goga told him. “But we have reason to believe that those howls you hear, those howls which are not that hard to miss, are of Black Wolves, Hyena Wolves, chasing something or someone through the forest.”
“Oh my!” Lord Fobata exclaimed, turning around with a handkerchief held up to his mouth. “We shall have to let them in if they are people.” He said, mostly to the crowd of servants, guests, and peasants surrounding him.
“Let them in?” Goga gasped. “My lord--”
“We shall have to let them in, whoever they are!” Lord Fobata declared, flouncing the handkerchief in front of the people. “We cannot turn them away, especially on my birthday. It would bode ill not to invite them in, and be generous.”
“Yes, your Grace,” Goga muttered, turning back around. “Raise the portcullis, prepare to welcome some guests in if they come through safe.” He ordered the guards.
Basha couldn’t breathe. It was a recurring nightmare. It was the second time since he had started his quest that he had been chased by Black Wolves. He still did not understand why it had happened to him. Accompanying him was Oaka, who had not fallen off of Joko this time, and riding alongside him on the opposite side was Monika on her horse Deja, whom he had met for the second time in his life in Coe Anji. Flying just ahead of them was Fato the talking falcon, a royal messenger bird who, if he was to be believed, was to blame for this fiasco.
“Come on, it’s just a little bit farther!” Fato called. “It’s Coe Aela, I can see it! I can see it.” He whispered the last. I wish that I didn’t, the falcon thought to himself.
Basha urged his horse Talan to move a little faster. “I hope you are right!” He called. He doubted that Fato was to blame for this fiasco because circumstances in his own life had been strange enough before the falcon ever came into it that he wondered if there was another explanation for the Black Wolves’ presences.
Indeed, the turrets were visible rising up into the sky through the trees, as were the Black Wolves loping along closer to the ground, trying to run down the horses and take down their riders as well. Almost the same as what happened to Sir Nickleby, except he jumped down to confront the Wolves and let Basha and Oaka get away. He was a brave man, a true noble knight like the Knights of Arria of old. Basha wished he were that brave as well.
“Is this normal?” Monika called, attempting to notch an arrow to her bow and fire back at the Wolves, though she fumbled with her weapon due to the speed of her horse.
“Not for us,” Basha told her, although he wondered why she even had to ask? The last couple of days had been strange, admittedly, but…perhaps nothing was normal anymore, he realized. Perhaps this was the new normal from now on.
“Almost there!” Oaka cried, laughing in relief and fear as he tried to hang on. For almost a few seconds, he had managed to summon up some flames in his hand, in the hopes of using his fire against the Black Wolves, but then the flames had faded away with the rush of the wind. Still, he had the spark.
The castle did seem close, but it continued to grow as they got closer, the walls rearing up above their heads farther than their necks could stretch, until they reached the portcullis, raised to welcome them in safety. Basha
glanced back at the Wolves that seemed to dissolve away, fleeing from the walls as the guards fired arrow after arrow down at them, and back into the forest. He was glad of that.
They rode into the bailey, paved with stones at its center and surrounded by mud, halting their horses at the line of guards arrayed in front of and on either side of them, dressed in black and green uniforms with a crowd of people gathered beyond. Heads peered above the shoulders of the guards, still standing on the defensive with bows, spears, and swords withdrawn, curious to see what sort of people had been targeted by Black Wolves. Basha, Oaka, and Monika slowly dismounted, careful not to reach towards their weapons as Fato landed on Talan. The portcullis lowered behind them.
“Stand down, men, stand down!” ordered one of the guards coming down from the allure, who appeared to be a senior officer as the other guards followed his orders, sheathing swords, lowering bows and spears.
“Welcome to Coe Aela!” A voice called, and they turned their heads as the crowd and guards parted for a rotund man wearing a velvet mulberry-colored coat trimmed in embroidery, barely fastened at the bottom near his stomach with bulging buttons in their loops. A white handkerchief with red stitching the rotund man used to pat the sweat off of his slightly red and wrinkled oval face with large cheeks, bushy eyebrows, thick lips and a broad forehead, fluttered in the breeze. The white and red handkerchief caught Basha’s eye for a moment, before he looked away to examine the rest of the handkerchief’s owner.
A white ruffled shirt stuck out at the top from beneath the handkerchief’s owner’s coat, which flared out to a nearly knee-length hem and had wide lace-lined cuffs. The rotund man also wore breeches and wide, pointed shoes with a buckle. He had dark, piercing eyes and was nearly bald, with a little fuzz at the back of his head and on his chin and cheek, as if he might grow a beard or had forgotten to shave this morning, perhaps for the last week as well. He wore a wig of white and auburn hair to cover up his baldness.
Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2) Page 15