Cheysuli 7 - Flight of the Raven

by Jennifer Roberson

  "Oh, aye. I know what I'm doing, I'm thinking."

  The lilt did not touch the Hunter. "Do you do it willingly, or merely because it seems the easiest thing?"

  Aidan laughed. "Are we not done with testing yet?" He shook his head, gripping the ring in his palm. "Are you finally asking me the questions I wanted you to ask? Now will you give me my answers?"

  "Answer me, Aidan."

  Quelled for the moment, Aidan nodded. He wet his lips. "I surrender my rank and title willingly, knowing what I do."

  "To what benefit?"

  "To benefit the prophecy," Aidan answered firmly. "Which I have always served, unknowing; and continue to serve, now knowing."

  "You remove yourself from the succession of Homana."

  "Aye. Willingly."

  "I repeat: to what benefit?"

  Aidan smiled, tucking the ring into his belt-pouch and tugging on his glove again. "There was a chain, god of dreams, that once was broken in my hands, and later rejoined. I believed the dreams ended and the task performed, as was intended. But as I stood before Lochiel, I realized that was not true. The joining of the chain, while not precisely wrong, was not the desired end."

  He recalled Shaine, Carillon, Donal; Ashra, Tye, Siglyn. All who had aided him in his decision, though he had not known it then.

  The Hunter's voice was soft. "What was the desired end?"

  "To break it." Aidan's attention returned. "The chain was meant to be broken—and by me—to improve the next link." He gazed down between the folds of his cloak on the bundle that was his son. "To provide this link with the strength he requires to complete the prophecy."

  The god stirred upon his rock. "What else, Aidan?"

  He considered it. The answer came easily. "Chained warrior," he said distantly. "Chained prince; chained raven. Bound, the life goes on. Broken, it is free." He gazed directly at the Hunter. "The chain is broken; the decision made. I wish to go free."

  The Hunter's face was expressionless. "Freedom carries its own weight of responsibilities."

  "I know that." And suddenly Aidan was laughing with the unhindered joy of realization. The sound rang in the rocks; he let the laughter go out of sheer exuberance and acknowledgment of the truth. He felt so free at last. For the first time in his life.

  When the laughter died, he grinned at the god. '"Lochiel has lost after all."

  The Hunter smiled faintly. "What will you do?"

  Aidan's answer was prompt. "Take my son to Homana-Mujhar and give him over to his tahlmorra. Mine lies elsewhere."

  "Ah. Then you have realized you did not break it in Valgaard."

  "Oh, no." Aidan shrugged. "I learned what it was, instead."

  The Hunter nodded. "What of you, Aidan, when your son is made the heir?"

  He looked down on the bundled child. "The Lion Throne was never meant for me. Gisella was right when she said I would be a throneless Mujhar and a crownless king." He smiled, recalling his fear. "I think I am bound for another realm and another lion… for an island floating on the breath of the gods, where lies a fallen altar and a deserted chapel. I think my task is to make it whole again, restoring it to its original purpose so that it may serve Cheysuli in need once more."

  "They will call you priest," the Hunter warned. "Half-man. Shadow-man. Warrior without a heart." He paused. "Even coward and castrate."

  For a moment only, it pinched. Then fell away into dust, as all desire had. He was content within himself; with the knowledge of what he was.

  "Perhaps the Homanans will," Aidan agreed. "It is their nature to disparage what they cannot understand. As for the others—" he shrugged "—it makes little difference. It is time to bring light to the land again, to chase away the dark." He smiled dreamily, gloriously tired. "Names do not matter. And the Cheysuli will call me something else entirely."

  "What is that, Aidan?"

  "Shar tahl." He grinned briefly. "Like Burr, only worse—I will teach them things they do not want to hear. I will untwist all the twists. I will show them there are new ways to be honored as deeply as the old." The smile fell away. "And I will prophesy."

  "For whom?"

  Aidan's breath was a plume. "Cynric."

  "Who is Cynric?"

  "Child of the prophecy. The sword and the bow and the knife. The Firstborn, come again."

  The Hunter gestured. "Is that Cynric?"

  Aidan glanced in surprise at the child in his arms. "This one? No. This is Kellin. Prince of Homana. The next link." He looked at the god. "Cynric comes later. Cynric comes after. Cynric is the beginning of a new chain."

  "And who are you?"

  He knew the answer, now. "Aidan," he said. "Just—Aidan."

  The Hunter smiled. And then he rose, stepping off the rock.

  Aidan stood up hastily, cradling the infant who would one day rule Homana. "Is there nothing else?"

  "What else is there?" asked the god. "You have discovered your tahlmorra, and accepted. That is all that exists for any warrior." Briefly he put his hand against the lump of Kellin's head beneath the cloak. "Guard him well, shar tahl. He has yet to learn what sort of tahlmorra lies before him."

  Aidan, overcome, nodded mutely.

  The Hunter smiled. His eyes were very warm as he put his other hand on Aidan's head. "Safe flight, my raven. You are everything we hoped."

  And Aidan was alone, save for his son.

  Carefully, he peeled back the hooded wrappings shielding the tiny face. The Hunter had left the season warm; he did not fear the cold. In the bright sun of a summer day, Aidan looked upon his son. He touched the delicate forehead, traced the line of the brow, fingered the wispy black hair.

  And smiled in a sorrowful wonder. "We made this," he murmured. "The bright, bold lass and I."

  In her son, Shona lived on.

  Aidan nodded tightly. Better to have something… Abruptly, he banished it. Kellin was more than something.

  He inhaled deeply and blew out a streamer of breath. There was nothing left but to go.

  Aidan mounted his horse with great care and arranged Kellin more comfortably in his arms. For now the baby slept; he could not hope for it all the way.

  Or could he? Did he not converse with gods?

  Laughing, Aidan glanced up at the thick-leafed tree on which Teel perched. And then the laughter stilled. "Have you always known?"

  The silence between them was loud.

  "Have you?" Aidan repeated. "The lir, you have always maintained, are privy to many things."

  Teel offered no answer for a very long time. Then the raven stirred. Including all the pain. All the fear. The tone, unexpectedly, altered from tart gibe to tenderness. It was necessary.

  "What was necessary?"

  Obliqueness, Teel answered. Obscurity of a purpose: to make you angry. To make you fight something, even a contentious lir.

  "Because otherwise I might have given in." Aidan nodded. "Otherwise I might have broken. The anger was a focus…"

  Teel fluffed black wings. A warrior who walks with dead men and converses with the gods does not have an easy road. I was meant to make you take it.

  "Make me?"

  Teel reconsidered. To suggest you take the road, with whatever means I had.

  Aidan considered that. After a moment he nodded. "Do not change, lir. I am used to contentiousness."

  I had not thought to change. Why surrender preeminence?

  Aidan laughed. The child in his arms squirmed, then settled once again.

  He gathered reins and turned the horse southward. "Ah, well, what does it matter? The Wheel of Life has turned."

  He guided the horse one-handed, cradling Kellin with the other. "And the hounds will like the island."

  The raven lifted and flew. Southward, toward Mujhara. Southward, toward an island where the standing stones lay fallen, waiting for the shar tahl to set them upright again.

  APPENDIX

  CHEYSU/OLD TONGUE GLOSSARY

  (with pronunciation guide)

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  Asar-Suti (ah-SAHR soo-TEE)—(proper name): god of the netherworld.

  a'saii (uh-SIGH)—Cheysuli zealots dedicated to pure line of descent.

  bu'lasa (boo-LAH-sa)—grandson

  bu'sala (bu-SAH-la)—foster-son

  cheysu (chay-SOO)—man/woman; neuter; used within phrases.

  cheysul (chay-SOOL)—husband

  cheysula (chay-SOO-la)—wife

  Cheysuli (Chay-SOO-lee)—(literal translation): children of the gods.

  Cheysuli i'halla shansu (Chey-SOO-lee ih-HALLA shan- SOO)—(lit.): May there be Cheysuli peace upon you.

  harana (ha-RAH-na)—niece

  harani (h-RAH-nee)—nephew

  homana (ho-MAH-na)—(lit): of all blood.

  i'halla (ih-HALL-uh)—(lit.): upon you; used in phrases.

  i'toshaa-ni (ih-tosha-NEE)—Cheysuli purification ceremony; atonement ritual.

  ja'hai ([French j] zshuh-HIGH)—(lit.): accept

  ja'hai-na (zshuh-HIGH-na)—(lit.): accepted

  jehan (zsheh-HAHN)—father

  jehana (zsheh-HA-na)—mother

  ku'reshtin (koo-RESH-tin)—epithet; name-calling

  leijhana tu'sai (lay-HAHN-na too-SIGH)—(lit.): thank you very much.

  lir (leer)—magical animal(s) linked to individual Cheysuli; title used indiscriminately between lir and warriors. liren (leeren)—feminine version; used by animal lir to female Cheysuli.

  meijah (MEE-hah)—Cheysuli light woman; (lit.): mistress

  meijhana (mee-HAH-na)—(slang): beloved; pretty one

  Mujhar (moo-HAHR)—king

  qu'mahlin (koo-MAH-lin)—purge; extermination

  Resh'ta-ni (resh-tah-NEE)—(lit.): as you would have it.

  rujha (ROO-ha)—(slang): sister (dim.)

  rujho (ROO-ho)—(slang); brother (diminutive)

  rujholla (roo-HALL-uh)—sister (formal)

  rujholli (roo-HALL-ee)—(format): brother

  ru'maii (roo-MY-ee)—(lit.) in the name of

  ru'shalla-tu (roo-SHAWL-uh TOO)—(lit): May it be so.

  Seker (Sek-AIR)—(formal title): god of the netherworld

  shansu (shan-SOO)—peace

  shar tahl (shar TAHL)—priest-historian; keeper of the prophecy.

  shu'maii (shoo-MY-ee)—sponsor

  su'fala (soo-FALL-uh)—aunt

  su'fali (soo-FALL-ee)—uncle

  sul'harai (sool-ha-RYE)—moment of ultimate pleasure; describes shapechange.

  tahlmorra (tall-MOR-uh)—fate; destiny; kismet

  Tahlmorra lujhala mei wiccan, cheysu (tall-MOR-uh loo-HALLA may WICK-un, chay-SOO)—(lit.): The fate of a man rests always within the hands of the gods.

  tetsu (tet-SOO)—poisonous root given to allay great pain; addictive, eventually fatal. tu'halla-dei (too-HALLA-day-EE)—(lit.): Lord to liege man.

  usca (OOIS-kuh)—powerful liquor from the Steppes

  y'ja'hai (EE-zshuh-HlGH)—(lit.): I accept.