The Raven (The Secret Chronicles of Lost Magic Book 1)

by Aderyn Wood

  “You know I must complete the summer, Mother. By rights I shouldn’t even be here now; a hermitage is supposed to be unbroken. I must return to it as soon as Agria has finished. I shall come to our lands of the Wolf before the first snows – before Ilun.” Yuli had said. He even spoke differently now.

  “Anton, are you listening?”

  Anton blinked.

  Hennita was standing ahead with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

  “Ah, I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “I said, these enemies, the ones who attacked the Otter. Do you think they have gone away? I hope so. My father has tried to get it out of Belwas, but all he kept saying was that we’d know more this Agria, and to keep up our offerings to the Mother. But we’re at Agria now, and nothing’s happened. I do hope they don’t interrupt our ceremony. And Belwas had better not embarrass me during our vows ...”

  Anton let her prattle as he remembered the visit to the Otter’s lands the spring before last. A company of eight hunters along with the Soragans Izhur and Tyvan had traveled swiftly to the river lands of the Otter. They found the grounds of the attack. Blood had stained some of the walls of their cave-dwells, and decomposed corpses lined the banks of the river. But there was no physical sign of the enemy clan that had wrought such terror. Izhur had tried to sense them through the Otherworld, but no evidence lingered there either. The enemy had not returned to the Otter lands. They had come, killed, stolen, and left. The mystery remained unsolved. So they gave the corpses to the river, on a bed of fire, as was the way of the Otter. Izhur asked Mittha to take their brothers and sisters back to the Otherworld and to Ona. Then they had returned to their own lands, with few answers to impart.

  Iluna had told him they were safe until Agria. Well, Agria had started. Were they safe still?

  ”You remember Botha, don’t you?” Hennita’s question cut through his thoughts like a knife.

  “Ah, Botha?”

  “She helped me catch your witch when we were children. Remember that? I thought you were quite the brave hunter.”

  Anton halted. Yes, he remembered. A warm rush of shame caressed his cheeks.

  “Is Iluna really a witch, do you think? I mean I know she is your clan’s tamatu, but do you think she does possess dark power? Perhaps she will leave your clan and run off, like Tysha in the evenfire tale. I do love that tale; it never fails to scare me half to death, even though I’ve heard it scores of times. The way she feeds on the blood of babies always makes me shudder. You know, I’ve heard some call Iluna the Malfirena.”

  “Don’t call her that,” Anton said.

  Hennita turned and tilted her head. “Anton, what did you say? You better keep up. I don’t want a mountain cat attacking me. I need your protection, husband.” She giggled.

  “I’m not your husband yet.”

  “But you will be tomorrow evening.”

  Anton grimaced and turned to go in the opposite direction.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “I’ll meet you back at camp.”

  “But, Anton, what about our nice walk?”

  He ignored her and ran up the mountain path where he knew she wouldn’t follow. His muscled legs carried him swiftly so that Hennita’s protests faded quickly. They had been just a stone’s throw from the outskirts of the encampment. The beat of the evenfire drum would scare off any mountain cat, or any other creature. She was safe. He continued moving up into the thickening forest. He had to get away. To think. Or not to think. He needed to do something to stop thinking – of her.

  His hands rested on a large boulder and he pulled his body over it and sprinted. He concentrated on the sound of the fruit bats – their little chirrups and calls. His breath was coming out fast now and made a kind of rhythm with the chant of the insects. It drove him on.

  His thoughts kept returning no matter how often he tried to divert them. He couldn’t get her out of his mind – her dark messy hair; her small bust; her legs; the way she cocked her head on account of her deaf ear; the way she moved. Her serenity. She always seemed at peace. He wanted to talk to her, but it was impossible. She was either with Izhur and Cypra, or off in her own secrecy, in places he could never find her.

  He’d been able to track her on their way here, and he delighted in the glimpses he stole. But the old woman, she seemed to know what he was doing and he had to give that up, too. If only he could talk to her.

  He reached a plateau and bent over with hands on knees to catch his breath. The night was warm and now he was thirsty. He had no skin of water, and the river was a long way down. He would have to wait. Stumbling along and breathing hard, he noticed little blue berries shining under the trees. He laughed and grabbed a handful, crunching out their sweet juice. Further along more berries sprung up and he ate them, quenching his thirst. He would have to return to this place with a satchel for his mother. He bent to take a third handful and noticed the blue flesh left over on a branch. Just beneath it, a footprint dented the soil. He put his own foot beside it. Someone, smaller than him had been here only moments before.

  He paused. Could it be her? He walked on – slowly – bending every so often to pick another berry, thinking all the while. She was known for her secrecy. She spoke to no one aside from Izhur and Cypra. She was rarely seen in the camp. Each evening he would glance at her for a brief time at the evenfire. She would stay only long enough to eat her meal.

  As he moved, he noticed more footprints. He bent to smell, and the earthy aroma of broken leaves and freshly turned soil greeted his nostrils. He was close. Whoever it was had only just been here.

  Holding his breath he walked on, listening for a sign. He came to a small clearing surrounded with more berries than he had ever seen in one spot. Ahead a low branch of a shrub moved. It had to be her.

  “Iluna? All is well. You can come out. I am here alone.”

  There was a hoot in the distance. No, surely she hadn’t moved so quietly. The branch moved again. His hunter’s eyes spotted it. She was still there.

  “Iluna, please, I just want to talk to you.”

  He held his breath again – listening.

  “Talk about what?”

  The sound of moving branches came from behind. Anton turned, and Yuli stepped into the clearing.

  “Yuli?” Anton whispered.

  “What are you doing here, brother?” Yuli’s amber eyes held a burning fire. He was breathing hard, too. There was something different about him. Anton looked him over. He held something in his hand.

  “I was – walking.”

  Yuli squinted. “You were asking for her. I heard you. What did you want to talk to her about?”

  Anton focussed on Yuli’s hand. Something fell from it. A dark trail lined the back of his hand and came from somewhere further up, under the pale embroidered sleeve of his robe. In the light it glimmered, dark red. “Yuli, what have you done? Are you bleeding?”

  Yuli hid his hand fast behind his back. “Mind your business, brother.” Then he stalked off through the bushes.

  Anton frowned. He had a mind to chase after his brother. Whatever he was up to it was strange.

  Yuli was sixteen summers now, and a man. He should trust him to know what he was doing, but what did the blood mean? Last winter, just before he’d left for his hermitage, Anton found him at the quarry; at the altar. Anton rarely went there but it was a good hunting spot for quail that basked in the warmth of the sunshine.

  Yuli was at the chasm whispering strange words, and blood covered the surface of the altar from the crow he had killed. He was furious with Anton for disturbing him, told him he had no business spying on him.

  Izhur had never acted like that. The Soragan only sacrificed animals during Ilun, and it was known how he hated the task. Yuli had appeared to be enjoying – whatever it was he had done to the crow.

  It had bothered Anton for days after. He went to Izhur to ask him about it and the Soragan didn’t even know that Yuli was doing this. Izhur asked h
im to keep an eye on Yuli. There had been plenty of things that Anton had noticed – Yuli going off by himself for great chunks of the day without telling anyone where he was, or what he was doing. And he had changed in his personality; he was less whiney, more aloof and standoffish. He rarely seemed to speak to him anymore. Now, it seemed his hermitage had made him more of a stranger. That blood was unnerving.

  “I must tell Izhur,” he muttered and he turned to go down the mountain.

  “He was searching for me.”

  Anton looked to his left and there she stood. Her dark hair shone a deep blue in the night’s light. It was untangled for a change. Perhaps Cypra had brushed it for her.

  “Iluna,” he whispered.

  “He uses some dark magic now, and he looks for me often. He spies on me.”

  Anton frowned. “Dark magic?” He shivered with the thought and touched his fingertips together in the sign of warding. “Why? Why would he do that?”

  Iluna stared at him. “You were looking for me, too.”

  Anton’s cheeks warmed and he shifted his gaze to the berries.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I – just wanted to talk to you.” His embarrassment burned through him.

  She frowned, then nodded. “Go on.”

  Anton laughed. A nervous laugh. Now that he had his wish he didn’t know what to say. “Ah. What are you doing here?” He scratched the back of his head.

  “Looking for moonberries.”

  He nodded. “Well, I think you’ve found them. They’re all around here.”

  She continued staring.

  He bit his lip. She wasn’t making this easier for him, not that he could blame her. “Do you like those berries?” Ona, he needed help.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. The ah – well, ahh.” Anton scratched his chin, feeling the stubble of his beard.

  “Is that all you want to say?” she asked and turned a shoulder as though she was about to walk off. He had to think – quick!

  “The thing!” he sputtered. “The thing you told me – about us being safe, until this Agria.”

  Her eyes returned to his and their darkness looked troubled.

  “Well, so, do you know any more? Will we be safe after the festival?”

  Her eyes flicked away and the shadow of a frown crossed her face.

  “I’m sorry.” He put his hands up. “I don’t mean to make you feel sad or worried. I’m just curious.”

  She nodded behind him. “You weren’t expecting to see your brother here? You didn’t know he was looking for me?”

  Anton’s eyebrows arched. “No, I had no idea. I rarely see, or talk to my brother any more. He’s – different since his hermitage.”

  “Will you tell Izhur what you saw? The blood?”

  Anton squinted. “You saw that, too?”

  Iluna nodded. “Yes, I was watching. He uses blood to help with his gift – sometimes his own, sometimes an animal’s blood.”

  “Blood? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is he doing?”

  “Something evil.” Iluna’s eyes were so dark Anton had difficulty reading them.

  “Should I tell Izhur?”

  She looked away briefly, as though considering this.

  “Yes,” she said, finally. “Tell him.”

  Anton cocked his head, considering her again. “What were you really doing up here tonight?”

  Iluna shifted her gaze down. Her eyes held all the world’s sadness. “I was looking for a friend.”

  Before Anton could ask who, she was gone – as quick and as silent as a night hawk.

  Iluna

  “Where are you going?”

  Iluna turned to find Cypra behind her, a look of concern on her face. Both Cypra and Izhur had been worried since their arrival at Agria. Not that Iluna had spoken to Izhur much, not openly in any case.

  “Just up to the mountain forest,” Iluna responded. “I want to look for him again.”

  Cypra nodded. “Be careful.”

  She shared her tent with Cypra, who was no longer permitted to stay in the Soragan’s tent. It had infuriated Izhur when that decision was made. He had paced back and forth along the river, fuming.

  But Cypra accepted it. “I’m more than happy to camp with Iluna, Izhur. No matter what the gossips might have to say about it.”

  “I’m always careful, Cypra.” Iluna turned and walked through the encampment, avoiding people as best she could, but near the Soragans’ tent she almost ran into the Grand Soragan who was just coming out.

  “Excuse me, Grand Soragan,” she whispered.

  His small eyes squinted, and Iluna bent her head and moved swiftly on.

  She’d had little to do with the Grand Soragan, spotting him only a handful of times over her life. Her encounter with him last Agria was intense. He had looked on her light and she had tried to do the same with him. But unlike with Belwas, she didn’t see his totem. She didn’t see his light either. All she saw was darkness.

  He had taken a dislike to her after, and Iluna didn’t know why. Perhaps he knew what she had seen and didn’t want her to spread the knowledge. The last time she had seen him was at their winter lands, two winters past when the Soragans met with her clan. He was just as cold and hostile toward her then. She should do her best to avoid him completely.

  Once in the forest she slowed her pace and breathed more easily. It was cool and sweet, and, as always, it calmed her. She stepped over the stones of the river to the other side, and began the ascent.

  It was the third day of the festival. That night the evenfire storytellers would be performing their favorite tales to the delighted awe of their audience. The previous night had been the couple-bond ceremony. Agria was flying by and she still hadn’t found the raven. She focused her mind as she walked, trying not to let worry disturb her flow. She had to find him.

  But when she sent out her essence she sensed someone else, following behind – Anton. He was different now. Iluna knew he wanted to be her friend, but she didn’t know why. Why, after all those years of hostility did he want to spend time with her? It was very strange. And now he was bonded to Hennita of the Bear. She’d witnessed their oaths the previous night. Hennita had worn the whitest robe she’d ever seen, and her many stones and gems had glimmered in the Agrian night.

  Iluna stopped to wait for Anton to catch up.

  It didn’t take him long but he remained hidden behind a nightshade bush.

  “You can come out, Anton. I know you’re there.”

  He crept through the branches, eyes darting around. “I was – I was just on my way to get more of those berries for my mother.” He held up a satchel as if giving proof.

  “And for your wife?”

  Anton blinked. “Ah, no. She doesn’t like them. But my mother does.”

  Iluna couldn’t help but smile. “That’s where I’m going.”

  She turned to continue her trek up the mountain path. He ran to catch up and walk by her side.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  Iluna shook her head. “But when we are up there I need to do something in the clearing. And I need to be alone.”

  “Yes, of course.” He grinned. “Are you going to get more berries, too?”

  Iluna stopped. This was ridiculous. “Anton.”

  “Yes?” His eyes held something. Was it hope?

  “Why are you here?”

  “To get some—”

  “Berries. Yes, you said that. But you know what I mean. Why? Why after all the years of teasing and then ignoring me. Why now do you want to talk with the clan’s tamatu?”

  Anton looked at the ground – his eyes searching for words. “I – I just …”

  Iluna squinted. His essence pulsed. Something was igniting his emotions. He was excited; happy even.

  She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. His energy ran through her fingertips, a tactile force. “I think I understand.”

  “You d
o?” His eyes grew even more hopeful.

  Iluna understood alright. He was attracted to her. It happened a lot in the clan when boys turned into men, and girls into women. Often they would become attracted to fellow clan members – members they weren’t promised to. It wasn’t openly accepted by the clan when it happened, but such couples who met in secret were not stopped – as long as it wasn’t done openly.

  But Iluna knew this was dangerous. She was the clan’s tamatu, and people were frightened of her. She couldn’t allow him to develop such feelings. She had to stop it now. Hennita would be returning with them after Agria to live with her husband and his people.

  “You need to stop this. You have your wife now. If your family found out it would be bad for me.” She thought of Zodor and Yuli. They would want something done; maybe convince the Eight to punish her, or worse – cast her out.

  Anton looked down to the ground, disappointment and embarrassment mingling on his face. She walked on, but he grabbed her hand. A hot flush of energy bolted from him.

  “Iluna, please, I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes burned with passion. “Have you bewitched me?”

  She snatched her arm away. His comment hurt like a sharp sting. “I don’t do that,” she said between gritted teeth. “I thought you had changed. Clearly you have not.”

  She walked on.

  “Iluna.”

  “Don’t follow me.”

  “Iluna, I’m sorry. That was a foolish thing to say.” His voice croaked.

  Iluna kept walking. She couldn’t deny that his comment had hurt; which was curious. She had built a thick hide so that the harsh words of others no longer scarred her. So why had his? She stopped to gather her breath as she realized what it meant.