‘But why are they here?’ said Wist. ‘This is a camp not a home.’ He pointed to the pelt surfaces that made up their prison. Then he too laughed. ‘The wyverns. Of course, the wyverns.’
‘What of them Dionach?’ asked Haumea.
‘The wyverns have been hunting them and so they have fled further and further north.’
‘Until they had to stop,’ said Aviti. ‘But why stop here? Why not use the cave as a base? This will not suffice. Not for any length of time.’
‘Maybe they hope to return home?’ said Wist. ‘Maybe entering the cave will be a step too far?’
Aviti did not believe that, but arguing about it was pointless. So, she asked their guard for water and food. He snarled at her, but repeated her request for water. His shout was answered when a bedraggled woman brought in a skin full of water. The woman looked painfully thin. The clothes she wore hung on her frame, as if they were made for someone twice her weight. She looked at the Giant with hunger in her eyes.
When the woman turned to go, Aviti caught sight of a golden object on her shoulder. It was not a bar as she feared, but a clasp. Rough copper wire passing under her armpit and over her shoulder held it in place. Then she was gone, leaving them to pass around the water. It was stale and brackish, but Aviti thanked the guard and returned the waterskin to him. He snatched it without acknowledgement.
‘What now?’ asked Decheal.
‘We wait,’ said Wist, stroking his ragged beard.
The Giantess cursed and reached for her sword, but it was not there. The fact that her hands were bound and they were still tethered together had not stopped her trying. ‘Let us overpower them, kill them and take what they have.’
‘No.’ said Wist with enough venom to get a stare from their captor. ‘No more killing.’
‘Sometimes it is the only answer,’ said Decheal.
‘No,’ he said again. His voice was not as loud as before, but it was just as firm. ‘We will find another way.’
‘Another way he says. There is no other way.’
‘There is always another way,’ said Wist contradicting the Giantess, but the force had left his voice.
‘What do they want with Sevika?’ Aviti asked into the silence that descended, but no-one answered her. They all sank into their own personal mires for a while. No-one talked and the guard contented himself with heating his hands over the fire. Aviti wondered if she could free them. Perhaps she could hold the magic, just enough to bluff their way out of here, but she kept returning to the same problem.
What then?
Tyla would have found a way out of this. Damn him for leaving them like this. Damn him for leaving her.
Find me, he had said.
Damn him.
She thought of calling him back, somehow, through their bond. He could not be more than a few days from here. Knowing him, he would appear through the opening in the tent in an hours’ time with enough food and supplies to carry them to the Dhuma and all the way home.
But no, he was far from them. Her bond with him confirmed what she already knew. He was far to the South and moving, always moving.
Damn him.
Damn herself. It was not his job to save her. She did not need him and he could not help them. He had his own battles to fight and so did she. But she missed him and nothing could change that now.
Abruptly, the leader of the gang shoved Sevika through the opening and followed her in. The Intoli collapsed on top of Aviti sending them both sprawling on the floor.
‘Get up Witch,’ barked the leader. ‘Get up.’ He aimed a kick at Aviti, but caught Sevika instead. Fresh blood splattered over Aviti’s feet from cuts down the back of the Intoli’s head. Some of her translucent hair had been torn from her head and a mass of congealed gore tangled at the nape of her neck.
Aviti scrambled up before another, more accurate boot came her way. Wist moved around to Sevika and helped the Intoli to sit. At least she was still alive, thought Aviti as the man grabbed her arm, cut the rope that bound her, and then dragged her from the tent.
Outside, the moon shone down on them, between the gaps in the tents as they passed. It looked small and weak, but still she was gladdened by its presence. Then the man shoved her into a tent at the back of this ramshackle camp. Another man, one of the others who had captured them, stood inside the entrance. At the rear, another man, old and ragged, sat on a stone, which served as his chair. Beside it a fire burned low.
‘Ulfar,’ he said, ‘Where are your manners?’
The man spoke the same language as the others, but it was less coarse, much closer to the language of the Intoli.
Ulfar moved a boulder around in a series of thumps and then forced Aviti to sit upon it. Then the hulking brute left, leaving Aviti and this man alone with only a guard for company.
‘What did you do to Sevika?’ she snapped.
The man laughed and clapped his hands together. ‘So, it is true. A dark-skinned Witch that speaks our language. Captured in the company of an Intoli and two Giants. But you…you are the real prize.’
‘What did you do to Sevika?’
‘Sevika? Is that what you call it? Sevika. Stupid name.’
‘Stupid?’ said Aviti flabbergasted.
‘I let Progera play with it. He thought that he could beat answers out of it, but it refused to talk.’
‘Answers?’ said Aviti perplexed. ‘The answers to what?’
‘Do not play games with me Witch,’ the old man said. Small bits of spittle caught in his spidery beard.
‘Games?’ she repeated once more, before she caught herself.
‘You are all we need. For now, we cower in this hovel. With you, we can leave this place. With you, we can conquer this eternal night and bring back the sun. We can return to our homes and lives.’
He stood with his thin legs exposed beneath the skins that he wore. The man trembled either with rage or with age.
‘You will free us from this prison!’ he roared in a voice that defied his stature, but the madness was clear for Aviti to see.
17 - Blood Mountain
‘I will be no man’s slave,’ spat Aviti her anger flaring. Her nerves caught fire once more at the sudden rush in her blood, but she smothered any outward reaction to the re-ignition of pain
‘Slave,’ he said laughing once more. Then he collapsed back onto his seat. ‘I can sense it, you know.’
Aviti refused to acknowledge the implied question. ‘I will not be your slave.’
‘Again, with the games,’ he said, but this time he sounded deflated. ‘I said I can sense it. Your ability. Your connection with the Source.’
‘The Source?’ said Aviti without thinking. She had been caught off guard. That was what the Intoli called the Sun.
The man shot her a glare laced with abhorrence and disgust. ‘You cannot withhold your magic from me, Witch.’
‘Magic. That is what you want?’
‘You will lift the darkness from us, from our land. We waited here for a sign. Driven from our lands when the crops died and with them the animals. Then the Wyverns came. There is but a handful of my people left and I will not let them perish.’ The way he said Wyvern sounded like Waren to Aviti.
‘Do you know how it feels to watch your kin starve to death? Do you know how it feels to watch your people die?’
‘Yes,’ she said defiantly, and it was true, in a way. She had witnessed the sacking of Mashesh, by vision, through her father’s spirit.
But this man, this leader of the Hillfolk misunderstood her anger. ‘You kill even your own kind then, black Witch!’
‘No,’ she shot back, but the man did not care.
‘Spare me your false-hoods Witch. I see your lies for what they are.’ He stopped his ranting and prodded the fire for a time with a stick. His other hand he kept under his robe.
‘Is it true you can see the future, Witch?’
‘My name is Aviti,’ she said.
‘Names! What are names to Witches.’<
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‘My name is Aviti,’ she repeated.
‘Aviti,’ he spat her name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘Aviti. A strange name for a Demon.’
Demon. That was what the Giants called the Intoli. ‘What would you know of Demons, weakling?’ she bluffed. A spark of magic coursed through her body as her anger rose again.
‘Ah there it is,’ he said.
Aviti gasped as her chest constricted. She felt as though a massive fist held her and attempted to squeeze out her life.
‘How does it feel Witch, to be without your magic.’
Surprisingly familiar she thought to herself, but she could not speak.
She released her tenuous hold on the Magic and it burned as it tore its way out of her. Then she pulled a huge gasp of air into her lungs as the power restricting her failed.
‘Fear me, Witch,’ said the man as he pulled out a huge golden chalice from beneath his frayed robe. It looked farcically big in the man’s trembling grasp. The bowl was gaudy, encrusted with all sorts of gems: rubies, emeralds, sapphires, but it did not concern her. It was the stem of the chalice that made her shudder.
In the man’s bloodless fingers, was a golden bar. It was at least two inches in diameter, and a foot and a half in length.
The base of the cup was a plain silver disk, and as the man tilted the chalice toward her in a final threatening gesture, she caught sight of subtle lines traced into the surface of the base. Lines that came to points spaced out along the circumference. Eight points. Just like the star that dangled around her neck.
Then the thug that dragged them here burst into the tent.
‘Verdasco,’ said the thug. Verdasco flinched as the man said his name. ‘We must prepare if we are to be ready.
‘Verdasco,’ said Aviti. ‘Verdasco.’ She rolled her tongue around the name, giving each syllable an extra caress. The man jumped to his feet, but he regained his composure and turned from her. Then he covered Giant-sized chalice with a piece of crimson cloth and put it back inside his robe. Aviti laughed at the strangeness of it all. He looked like a priest caring for a holy relic, rather than a crazed despot.
‘Let us leave and I will not harm you Verdasco,’ she said, her body still aching from the pain of release.
‘You will not harm me Witch. I do not fear your tricks. Return her to the others,’ he ordered. ‘I have learned what I needed to.’
‘She will do?’ grunted one of them.
‘She will do,’ he snapped back. ‘Now leave me Ulfar. Take her and prepare.’
‘Prepare for what?’ Aviti asked, but Verdasco had already dismissed her from her thoughts. Ulfar grabbed her and forced her from the tent. Her feet barely touched the ground as he manhandled her back to her prison. Haumea rushed to her as she hit the floor.
‘Aviti, what did they do to you?’ asked Haumea as she helped the Masheshi girl to sit.
‘Nothing,’ Aviti said. ‘Not like they did to Sevika. How is she?’
Wist sat with the Intoli’s head cradled in his lap. ‘I think they tried to cave her skull in. I am amazed she’s still alive.’ The Intoli stirred at the mention of her name, and when Wist spoke, she sat up straight, although she needed the side of the tent to keep her upright.
‘What happened?’ Wist asked Aviti.
Aviti slumped back beside Haumea and she took a moment or two to compose herself before she answered.
‘I was taken to someone called Verdasco. I am assuming he is the king or leader of these people. He is mad. Ranting and raving about me being a witch and how he would use me to fix the world.’ She breathed deeply and felt a sharp niggle in her ribs. It was as if a band remained there.
‘But he has something that he used to hurt me.’
‘How? What?’ snapped Wist.
‘It is a cup,’ said Aviti.
‘A cup? Did he make you drink something?’ Wist’s face went paler beneath the web of red lines that decorated his flesh.
‘No,’ she said and shook her head. ‘You are not listening.’ She exhaled and the constriction bit once more.
‘It is what the cup is made of. It is huge and the middle part, the bar is just like the thing that the Intoli rammed through my shoulder.’
‘How did he threaten you with it?’ Wist asked.
Aviti put her hand back on her head to adjust her braid that was no longer there. ‘When I got angry, I drew some magic into myself. It was just a trickle, but he put something around me.’
‘What?’ Wist began to say, but Aviti interrupted him.
‘Enough questions Wist! I do not know. It was not a physical thing. He used the bar to do it. I do not think he understands what it does; only that it causes pain.’
Wist swore and kicked at the edge of the fire drawing a grunt from their guard. He swung a stick at Wist, but he moved out of its reach. The guard growled at Wist, but he showed the man the pale palms of his hands and lowered his head fractionally. This placated the guard and he went back to coaxing life out of the fire.
‘And you can still feel it, even now?’ Wist asked Aviti.
She nodded. ‘It is a slight thing now, but it is there.’ She turned away from Wist and faced Sevika instead.
‘Sevika,’ she said addressing the Intoli in her sibilant language. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you?’
‘No,’ Sevika said. ‘It does not matter.’
‘Does not matter?’ Aviti shot back at her. ‘Does not matter? Of course, it matters. If he can do that to one of us, he can do it to any of us.’
Sevika did not reply, but she slid her thin eyes away from Aviti and stared down at the fire.
‘Did they tell you anything about what they have planned?’
When Sevika did not answer, she tried again. ‘Sevika please think. Anything you might have heard.’
‘He shouted at me and struck me. He said how he enjoyed spilling my blood. He mentioned blood many times.’
Aviti gave up interrogating the Intoli and embraced her instead. Sevika stiffened below her tattered robes, but Aviti held her tight until the Intoli relaxed. She kissed the Intoli on the head and received some of her ice-cold blood in return.
‘What now?’ asked Wist.
‘We wait,’ said Decheal. ‘We wait and we prepare as best we can.’
‘Hush,’ said Haumea when Wist began to object. ‘Hush, my friend. Decheal has the measure of it. Rest. Rest whilst you can. Aviti is near exhausted. I shall tend to Sevika, if she allows. The rest of you, sleep.’
At the mention of Sevika, Decheal snorted. ‘Yes, Decheal,’ Haumea said stamping her foot instead of her staff for a change. ‘You too shall sleep and trust in me.’
Aviti thought about complaining, but knew it would be pointless, so once the others were settled, she too found a space near the fire and lay down. For a while, she stared into it, watching it flare when the guard added a few extra sticks to it.
She remembered doing this in her house, in front of her mother’s fire, in the kitchen. She had a hazy memory of falling asleep in her mother’s arms whilst she watched the flames dance.
Her reverie was interrupted when a group scuffled by the tent. She heard one man barking orders, shouting obscenities at the others. Amongst the quiet mutterings of the group, she heard a dusty, slithering noise. It reminded her of the broom that she used to use on her kitchen floor. The dry scraping sound set her teeth on edge. The shouting faded, leaving only the crackle of the fire for company. Her comrades slumbered on, and whilst the guard did not sleep, he remained disinterested.
A while later, a second group went by. The grating sounds of footsteps were the same as before, but this group did not shout or talk. There was not so much as a mutter to mask their passing. They too moved on, leaving Aviti to ponder how she had arrived in this place, in this company. She listened to them breathing and, closing her eyes, she let herself drift off to sleep.
The dreams did not come at first. She floated in blissful ignorance for a while, letting the dar
kness refresh her body and soul. Then the dreams came thick and fast. Visions of people she knew and places she loved were interspersed with monsters and demons spawned by her darkest fears, but as quickly as the hideous things appeared, desperate to devour her, they were eviscerated before they could get near her. Something protected her, something just out of her sight. Every time she turned her head to see what it was, it vanished, but it was there, watching over her.
He had watched over Aviti all of her life. From the moment she had first lain in his arms, and drew her first screaming breath, he had been there.
‘Father,’ she said to him. She called to him again and again, not in desperation or in need, but in thanks; thanks for everything he and her mother had given her. She would have called for her mother, but she was not there. She Passed a long time ago. Her father was only here because she had trapped him.
‘Aviti,’ he said.
‘Why did you not come? In the valley, when I saw Cairn and Mother, why were you not there?’
‘You know,’ he said. ‘I was there for I am always with you.’
‘Yes,’ she said, both aloud and in the silence of her heart, but he did not appear.
‘Father, I love you.’
There was no reply, but she could feel his smile. She could picture every line of his face. She had feared that she had forgotten him, that all the little things that defined the edges of her memory of him had gone.
The dreams continued for a time after that, but they passed Aviti by. It was as though she were a spectator to the reflections of her psyche. Nothing attempted to assail her now. All of her dreams were pleasant, but bland. She just drifted along until everything vanished and the chains appeared.
The chains were simple, rusted links of iron. They had one central chain with two branch-chains attached: one at the bottom and one half-way up. At the bottom of the chains were fetters, at the middle, cuffs for hands and at the top was a hinged monstrosity that gaped at her.
She flinched away from them, but as she did, they rose to examine her. Its mouth clanged open and shut as it approached. She called to her father, but there was no answer. Held immobile by the compulsion of her dream, the cold iron clamped around her ankles and hands and finally around her neck.
The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection Page 79