by Aderyn Wood
“And I said,” Cypra’s voice was a harsh whisper between curled lips, “it is time to discuss this matter.”
“You dare to affront the Grand Soragan …”
Izhur rubbed his temple. The tension was rising. It was not his place to interfere. One of the older Soragans should step in – Hentyl or Belwas. This problem of binding had never been acknowledged openly. Izhur looked desperately at Belwas, who now finished off his drink and nodded at Izhur. The old Soragan stood, or tried to. The combination of his ample stomach and the drink made him look like a fat summer bear trying to stand on its hind legs after gorging on honey.
“Alright let’s remember who we are,” Belwas said from his cushion, and the tension calmed a notch. “Lentyl, help me up for Ona’s sake!”
Belwas’s prentice came running and put his hand out, but the boy’s skinny body was no match for the large weight of Belwas, and rather than helping Belwas stand, he was flung onto his master’s obliging belly.
Izhur heard a few hushed giggles and the tension lowered all the more. He allowed himself a smile and stood. “Come Lentyl, let’s try it together, and then I might propose a subject of my own. That Soragans shouldn’t grow too fat.”
More laughter. Better.
Izhur and the prentice pulled Belwas to his feet and the old Soragan stood between Xaroth and Cypra. He was much shorter, and wider than the pair of them. He reached up and put his hand on each of their shoulders.
“We are the Soragans of our clans. Our people look to us for guidance. We must remain calm.”
The tension had eased considerably, but Xaroth’s eyes remained tight slits. Cypra just stared with a look of ice.
“Now, Cypra,” Belwas tapped the Soragan’s shoulder. “I agree. These topics are worthy of our attention and it is well past time we brought them up. I suggest we do so tomorrow evening.”
“That is all I ask, Belwas.” She gave a curt nod and returned to her cushion.
Belwas then tapped Xaroth’s shoulder. “And there is another gift-born child you may like to look on, Grand Soragan. A girl with the strongest light I’ve ever seen. Izhur? Tell him of Iluna.”
Izhur stopped smiling. No, not Iluna. He’d rather give up Yuli. Xaroth couldn’t have Iluna. Izhur would never allow it.
Jana spoke, her voice more confident now. “Iluna? Isn’t she your clan’s tamatu? Wasn’t she cursed at birth? I don’t think this would be a good match for you, Grand Soragan.”
Izhur swallowed. “Yes, you’re right, she is our tamatu. She wouldn’t make a suitable prentice for our Grand Soragan.” The words tasted like betrayal. He hated calling her that. “Perhaps I could offer Yuli?”
There were gasps.
“But Yuli has already been bound to you, Izhur. We cannot undo what is done,” Xaroth said, eyes squinting further. “No, bring me this girl tomorrow, and Jana, you bring me the boy. We will make a decision after the evenfire.”
Izhur looked at Belwas. What had the fool done!
Iluna
Iluna took the last scoop of venison stew and held it in her mouth for just a moment. It had been the Lion’s turn to cook and the mix of strange spices was tantalizing. The venison had simmered in large clay pots for most of the day and everyone had complained about the delicious aroma and being made to wait. The meat melted with every bite and the fresh root vegetables had absorbed the flavours of the spices. If it had just been her and Aunty around their small fire in their homeland Iluna would have licked the bowl. But she daren’t do that here.
The drum sounded eight beats, as it did every evening after the communal meal. There was a hush, for the evenfire tale was about to begin. One of the Lion elders walked toward the fire, a woman almost as old as Aunty Agath. She wore a lioness’s pelt around her slim shoulders.
“After the Dream Days, when the world was still young, there was much fighting between clans.” The old woman’s voice carried well, even to her and Aunty, and Iluna understood why she had been chosen to tell the tale.
“In those days there were nine great tribes, all Ona’s children, but all vastly different – the Lion, the Wolf, the Bear, the Deer, the Eagle, the Ox, the Snake, the Otter, and one more – the Dragon.”
Muffled gasps spread through the camp. Tales about the fabled Dragon clan were always a favourite.
“At one time two clans outshone all others in their rivalry and hatred – the Lion and the Dragon. The Battle of the River was a bloody and terrible war that lasted more than eighty-eight summers. Both great clans laid claim to the bountiful banks of the Mittha River, and neither was willing to compromise.”
Iluna gently put down her bowl and cocked her good ear toward the speaker. There was nothing better than a good evenfire tale, and Iluna thought she hadn’t heard this one before. Even Aunty paused her dinner to listen.
Iluna closed her eyes. It was the tale of the traitor, Tilda, the Lion’s Soragan who had met in secret with Borun the Strong. He was a famed Dragon hunter. Iluna had heard many a tale about his heroism, but she’d never heard this particular part of his story.
“Tilda had fallen in love with Borun, as he had ensorcelled her with his charms.” The old woman told a good story. “She, a Soragan, betrayed her own clan, telling them that the River was safe to hunt, but Borun and his fellow Dragons lay in wait. The Lion hunters were ambushed and slain. Skulls were cracked on the river rocks, hearts torn out and smashed, men flayed and burned alive. And for a time the Mittha River’s waters ran red.”
Iluna’s imagination took over as the old woman’s voice and the gasps of the clans faded. Images of fires and panic came to her, and the water, a river of blood.
The circle of time has cast a traitor once more.
Iluna blinked. Was it a voice in her head or a premonition?
The great drum started its slow beat once more and Iluna shook her head to ward off the sense of foreboding the tale had sparked in her. The Lion elder walked back to her mat. Soon the space around the evenfire would be a throbbing mass of dancers. Iluna stood, still trying to shake off the ominous feeling from the tale. She had other things to do.
She bid goodnight to Aunty Agath, still chewing beside her. Eating was slow work for Aunty on account of missing so many teeth. Iluna then wove her way through the mass of people. Some still sitting in family or friendship groups; clans intermingled, still talking about Tilda the Traitor, or old times; others folded up mats, getting ready for the dancing. She went to the river and washed her bowl and spoon before returning to the lean-to where she grabbed her satchel and headed for the mountain.
Iluna meandered along the now familiar trail through the mountain forest. Aunty had told her moonberries tasted sweetest in the evening, and every night after the evenfire meal she wandered up to get some for their breakfast. And for Raven.
Star, moon and nightsun sat high in the night sky, casting a gentle blue light that transformed the world into something magical. Rays of bluish silver struck through the canopy of the oaks, birches and elms that flanked the path. Little toadstools on the forest floor glowed with iridescence when the sliver-blue beams touched their skins. Iluna smiled. This place was special now. She already knew it the way she knew their summer lands.
She’d kept to herself as she always did. There were tamatus from other clans, but they were all mostly old, like Aunty Agath. There were no other girls her age to befriend. So she’d spent most of the Agria so far exploring the mountains. She could have easily traversed the forest blindfolded. Closing her eyes she tried, and other senses were awakened as she walked. Warm air filled the forest, but a slight breeze lifted her hair every so often, cooling the hot night air. The crickets sang in unison. There was an owl over there in the distance. A bat chirruped to her left. And on the other side, down the mountain path, the beat of the dancing drum throbbed. Many now danced by the evenfire. The dance drum rarely ceased during Agria.
And there was something else.
The thud of wings rushed overhead.
�
�Raven,” she whispered and smiled, opening her eyes.
The bird perched on a low branch of an elm, its dark feathers reflecting the blue silver of the light. She stepped closer. The raven ruffled his feathers, shaking his head.
“You want some moonberries, too?” Her hand went to her satchel; she had stuffed it full of the little blue fruits.
The bird cocked its head.
She held out her hand with a few berries and the raven took them and swallowed.
“Good.” She breathed. “Let me try something.” Her voice was gentle and soothing and the raven blinked.
Iluna had always had a great affinity with animals. Her gift helped her to connect with them easily, allowing her to influence, control them even. But this raven was different. It seemed in control of its own destiny and no one else could get a grip of it.
She held her arm up, elbow bent, so that her forearm was in front of her chest.
“Come, fly to me,” she whispered.
The raven cocked its head.
“All is well, Raven. Come.” She raised her arm a little higher. “I will give you more berries.”
The bird squawked and flapped its wings and in a blink flew in the air. It landed on her arm and Iluna was not prepared for the weight of the bird. He was heavy, but she steadied her arm.
“There, that was easy.”
The bird’s eyes were dark. Darker than anything Iluna had seen before. Everyone spoke of Ilun, the time of darkness that came after Agria as being the darkest thing in the world, with no light for eight full days. No nightsun or daysun, no moon, no stars; just thick inky blackness. But surely even that couldn’t be as dark as the raven’s eyes. She swayed, suddenly feeling giddy, and the bird flew off, squawking again.
She called out as she made her way back down the mountain path but the raven did not seem to be willing to return to her that night and his presence – that mysterious wave of energy – remained out of reach. Perhaps he wasn’t happy that she hadn’t given him more berries. He loved the moonberries. Next time she’d give him some straight away.
As she drew close to the camp the music of the drums and singing pulsed in louder wafts with the gentle gusts of breeze. The aroma of roasting meat still filled the air like it did every night. Another sound came to her, too – laughter, children’s laughter. And something else.
The path took her down to a ford that crossed the river. It was a popular place for swimming and fishing. And just now she could see that Golldo stood, still as a river boulder, with his fishing spear in hand. Iluna had learnt his name not long after the arrival of the Otter clan and their Soragan – her name was Cypra, she’d learnt that too. And she was one of the oldest Soragans, nearly as old as the Grand Soragan himself. Iluna would never forget the day she first saw her; the way she walked so tall, with some strong and determined will in her expression, and Golldo, with all his imperfections, limping along behind.
In any other clan a baby born with such abnormalities would have been exposed almost immediately after birth, releasing his soul from the anguish of his physical imperfections. But Golldo was now a man. There were whispers about him throughout the entire camp. Izhur told her that Cypra had taken pity on him and allowed him to live and to stop asking questions about it or she’d be just like all the other gossips with nothing better to occupy her mind. Iluna didn’t want to gossip. Who would she gossip with? Aunty slept most of the time or just chuckled quietly to herself whenever Iluna mentioned anything about Golldo or Cypra. But she was curious. She wanted to know more.
She took a step closer and peered down at the giant. He hadn’t moved. He seemed to be waiting. Agria was a good time to catch fish as the insects were just as active during the night as they were in the day, more so possibly. She’d eaten more trout and eels here than she’d had in her entire life. Their rich oily taste was fast becoming her favourite. Aunty liked them too, they were easy for an old woman to eat, she’d said.
Blue light reflected on the water and Golldo still hadn’t moved. Just then something hit the giant on his leg making him swat and lose his balance a little. The giggling returned, closer. She could feel them, and a familiar essence among them – Yuli.
A rock flew out of the undergrowth and Golldo completely lost his footing. He yelped and fell into the river. A mighty splash echoed off the rocks. Laughter flowed out with the children. There were many of them – nine or ten perhaps. Yuli was foremost among them, laughing and pointing at Golldo as the big man’s arms circled in the water.
“In the river where you belong, fish-boy,” he yelled and the other children laughed all the more.
Golldo came up and his mouth opened just the way a fish did when it tested the air. His arms still flailed, making foamy waves in the blue water.
“See, he even breathes as a fish does.” A boy, a little taller than Yuli, mimicked Golldo, gulping in air like a creature of the deep.
“More like an eel,” Yuli said, laughing.
Golldo’s eyes showed more white than she’d ever seen in a person and his arms thrashed wildly. His head tried desperately to stay above the water but he was tiring and he was beginning to breathe the water, coughing, his panic making it worse.
The other children were still laughing and name-calling, oblivious to what was happening. Why was Yuli so stupid?
Iluna stepped out. “He’s drowning, you fools.” She paused long enough to see a change in their faces before diving from the top of a large boulder into the river. Under the water the laughter of the children muted and darkness billowed before her. Her skin prickled in the cool depths of the river. Above, rays of silver penetrated and danced in the dark blue. Golldo still thrashed, but he was tiring fast.
She kicked her legs and reached for him. With one arm around his jaw she found the surface and breathed.
The children’s laughter had been replaced by panic. “What will we do?” one said.
“We’re in so much trouble. Cypra’s going to punish us!” said another.
Iluna spoke quietly to Golldo. “Breathe, let me take you. Just breathe.”
Gradually they came to the shore and she dragged him up along the rocky riverbed, the smooth round surface of the river rocks felt warm underfoot.
“Let’s run!”
Iluna looked up. It was Yuli who’d said it. The children followed his order in an instant. She watched them go, scrambling over the boulders that lined the river. None of them looked back. She frowned. They wouldn’t receive a punishment now. Who’d believe the tale of a tamatu?
She turned back to Golldo. He was sitting to the side, coughing up water.
“That’s right, keep coughing. It’s a good sign that your body is getting rid of all the water. You’ll be safe now,” she soothed.
He glanced at her as he coughed. His large eyes and oversized lips really did give him the appearance of a fish. What a cruelty that he couldn’t swim like one.
“What happened here?”
Iluna jumped and turned to see the woman standing in a beam of nightlight that penetrated the canopy. She gulped. Would she blame her?
“Your – friend. He fell in the river – he was fishing. There was – an accident.”
“Accident? I doubt your words, child.” The Soragan’s eyes were sharp, their ice blue almost seemed to glow in the night. “Golldo is the best fisherman I know. He has not once fallen in the water. No. I think some trouble has befallen him tonight.”
Iluna nodded, slowly. There was no use denying it. This woman would know a lie, she was sure. She licked her lips. “Some of the children, they were teasing him. He lost his footing and slipped.” She pointed to the spot where he had fallen. “He couldn’t swim.”
The woman’s eyes changed subtly as she looked Iluna over. Iluna glanced down at her tunic. It was wet and dripped on the rocks. Her hair hung in dark limp tendrils over her shoulders. She must have looked like a water nymph.
“I see what has happened here … Iluna.”
Iluna’s heart ju
mped. “You know my name?”
The woman bent her head. “You are Izhur’s charge. You must go to the Soragans’ tent. But you cannot go like that. Do you have a ceremonial robe?”
Iluna nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t …”
“Run, put it on, and brush your hair.”
Iluna’s breath shuddered a little. She sniffed and blinked. It had been many years since she had cried, but this was too much. She was the one who had saved Golldo. She stepped forward.
“Hurry, child, we will be expecting you before midnight. I will help Golldo now.”
Iluna nodded and ran as best she could with blurred vision. She remembered the last time she was punished by Izhur and Belwas. Now she had to front all of the Soragans together. It wasn’t fair! Yuli and Anton, they were never punished.
Yuli
“Will you keep up, Yuli!”
Yuli pouted but quickened his pace. Izhur hadn’t said anything about Iluna, or what happened to the fish-man, but he’d found Yuli not long after and was now dragging him to the Soragans’ tent. The little witch must have told him, and now Yuli was to be punished by Xaroth himself. He should have told Izhur about the raven, but the woman had scared him out of it. He prayed to Atoll that he wouldn’t be punished. He didn’t want to displease the Grand Soragan. He was the most powerful Soragan around; more so than Izhur. Yuli wished he was Xaroth’s prentice rather than Izhur’s, but then he’d have to leave his mother, and he wouldn’t like that.
“For Ona’s sake, hurry, Yuli.” Izhur had stopped to urge him on again. “And ready yourself for the sight of your young life. Finally, they will all know of what I speak.”
Yuli pouted again. Izhur had been murmuring to himself as they walked through the camps. He always did that when he was excited. Yuli had wondered if Izhur was happy that Yuli was going to get a punishment. He’d always favoured Iluna.