Altaica

by Tracy M. Joyce

  Even with Devi to anchor her, Umniga could feel its seductive pull. She was beginning to tire. She had no idea how far they had come. Just a bit further. She could feel Devi’s reluctance, but he complied. By the gods, how far did the girl go? Finally a faint trail appeared before her, a mere mauve haze that was dissipating in the ether. We have her. Come. Devi baulked. Devi, no! He was returning homeward. Umniga knew she could not make him continue. She could no longer feel that reserve of energy coiled about her—they could go no further. She suspected they now had only enough power to make it home on their own. Umniga knew Devi would sense her regret, but she sent him her thanks, pride and love at what he had managed to achieve. To go further would risk them both.

  As they returned to the circle, Umniga was pleased to see that the auras of the Kenati were still strong. They would be tired, as she was, but they had not been damaged by the experience. There would be no further attempts to find the girl. At least we have the boy.

  Putting on a brave face she sat up. She looked at Karan and shook her head—his visage soured. ‘How are you all?’ she asked the Kenati surrounding her. One by one they nodded at her, but all remained seated.

  Asha took Pio’s hand and looked at Umniga. ‘No luck at all?’

  ‘Oh, I found her trail, but even combined we will not reach her. The distance the girl travelled is remarkable,’ Umniga replied sadly. Pio squeezed Asha’s hand tightly, then let go and began to play again. Asha gently stopped him; his face crumpled.

  Karan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. ‘Be alert!’ The pre-dawn light was filtering through the trees, and with it came something else. Each of the guardians took flight, leaving their Kenati alone. Out of the mist, between the trees, materialised large shapes. They prowled between the onlookers.

  ‘Wolves!’ Gabriela gasped, clinging to Jaime. Curro and Nicanor placed Elena and Lucia behind them. Karan’s warriors surrounded them, blocking them from any possible move against the creatures.

  Asha’s guard moved their hands to their swords.

  Karan barked, ‘No!’ The warriors of the Horse quickly ensured their restraint.

  One young Boar warrior whispered, ‘So it’s true.’

  Āsim answered, in a hushed and reverent voice, ‘Aye lad, it’s true. I never thought to see the like. The Asena have come.’

  The Kenati were equally stunned. The Asena were rarely seen in the lowlands. It had once been their home, but now they were almost exclusively to be seen in remote parts of The Plateau—the Fields of Naji—the home of the Horse Clan, and even there rarely.

  Umniga had no idea what was going on. ‘Stay seated. Stay still. They are not our enemies.’

  Pio was terrified. His face was ashen. Frantically he looked for his parents. ‘Pa!’

  ‘Pio!’ Asha’s hand shot out and hauled him back down to the ground before he had even got halfway up. ‘No, Pio. Be still.’

  ‘Asha, wolves. Wolves, Asha!’ The last was a high pitched, panicked squeak.

  ‘Wolves?’ Asha frowned. ‘No, Asena. Good.’

  ‘Good?’ She nodded but kept her hand firmly on his. Pio’s eyes became enormous, a combination of wonder and terror, they seemed to fill his face. He trusted Asha, but he did not want to sit here, yet he could not take his eyes from the huge creatures that were approaching the circle. One was heading directly to him. Not a wolf, he told himself. Not a wolf. It certainly wasn’t a dog—he’d never seen a dog, or a wolf, this big. The head, out of which stared vivid blue eyes, was the size of a bear’s. Its long coat was a silvery-grey colour, the tips of which were almost blue. A magnificent ruff covered its neck and forequarters, tapering to a graceful feathering down the back of its front legs. A large silvery-grey, blue-tipped, bushy tail completed it. Pio held his breath as it stopped beside him and dropped to the ground.

  Asha was awestruck and nervous. She had never beheld an Asena. She gave Pio her most reassuring smile, hoping that it would work. Each Kenati now had an Asena sitting beside them. The Asena were focused on the centre of the circle—on Umniga and Isaura. Finally, there entered into the circle two Asena who were larger again. They were clearly older than the others and one appeared older than all the rest. They walked directly to Umniga.

  In all her long years Umniga had only glimpsed an Asena once and considered herself blessed for having done so. She was overwhelmed with joy. Tears filled her eyes, and she could not help smiling broadly. Instinctively, she knew that the oldest of the Asena, who now stood before her, was their ancient matriarch.

  ‘Old mother, welcome,’ Umniga said reverently as she bowed her head, exposing her neck to her. The matriarch lowered her muzzle and nudged Umniga’s face. When Umniga hesitantly raised it, she rubbed her ruff along her face, before lying down beside her. The second Asena lay down beside Isaura.

  Umniga felt a nudge at her consciousness as the matriarch stared at her. She took a deep breath. ‘I think we can … should try again.’

  The Kenati looked confused. ‘But they are not our guardians.’

  ‘No, but … just relax. I think …’ She stared into the blue eyes of the matriarch. ‘It will be fine. Put your hands on them.’ She lay down with her hand buried in the Asena’s coat.

  ‘Asha,’ Pio said worriedly. The Asena beside him was nudging his hand, which he lifted away. ‘Asha …?’ The moment he lifted his hand up, the Asena had placed its huge head in his lap. Pio’s expression grew distant, then he smiled beautifully.

  ‘Pio? Good?’ Asha asked.

  ‘Good. Very good!’ he said happily. Pio felt warmth spreading throughout his body, along with a surge of joy and a sense of safety. He grinned at his frightened parents, waving excitedly with his other hand.

  Asha placed her hand on the Asena beside her. She could sense the power thrumming around her, but it was firmly locked away from her. The Asena were tightly in control of this exchange. It was not like joining with Fihr. There was no emotional connection; she was still able to control her body. She wondered if she was even necessary and was startled to see the Asena next to her snort and curl its lip when this thought crossed her mind.

  Pio began the melody he had previously played, only this time there was a wildness underpinning his tune. It was as if two songs had been combined, one that beckoned you home, and another that promised vitality, strength and freedom, and revelled in the joy and power of all life. It seeped into Asha’s soul and she forgot all else.

  Nicanor and Lucia watched their son with wonder. Pio’s fingers moved skilfully along the flute, at times his melody grew haunting and at others it rippled along like a vibrant river.

  Karan watched the ritual with interest. It seems Umniga was correct. The gods did favour us. He could hear and feel the power around him, but he was not swept away by it. Dwelling on The Plateau, he had encountered the Asena before in the wilderness, albeit not like this; merely as glimpses in the distance, or with the mere prickling of his skin and certainty that he was being watched—judged. The faces of the strangers and of Asha’s guard reflected a mesmerised, terrified wonder; thank the gods Karan’s men remained cool-headed and had restrained the others from acting out of their fear. The appearance of the Asena proposed other potentialities. If the Asena return to the forest again, then the Boar Clan need to lose their old hatreds and fears. Too much is at stake.

  Umniga stood, blue and opaque, beside the ghostly blue silhouette of the matriarch and the other Asena. She looked at the circle of Kenati and Asena. Each pair made a pillar of blue light that stretched skyward like a beacon. The web of Pio’s music pulsed around them and flowed directly to the circle’s centre. Umniga could feel none of its power. She tried to reach for it and found herself unable to do so. A low growl sounded in her mind. She felt a slow probing of her mind, which she was unable to resist, and her earlier search replayed itself.

  What followed was a massive jump to the location of the sea rescue. Where previously Umniga had not been able to see Isaura’s trail, she could now see
a faint haze. She was stunned as she met what she could swear were the slightly amused eyes of the matriarch. Next, they travelled to where Umniga and Devi had regained the trail, but had been unable to continue. This was unlike any travelling Umniga had experienced before. There was no passing of scenery, even at a blur. It was simply as if the world folded and unfolded between one destination and the next. Umniga had never felt so helpless, but with each jump the trail grew stronger.

  They reached land and here the matriarch slowed their journey. The trail followed a river, which narrowed at the coast, moved through expansive marshlands and then widened as it dissected the countryside. Nothing seemed untoward. The farms and villages nearby looked intact and productive. However, as they travelled further inland, they witnessed more parties of soldiers camped across the countryside. They passed a large city on the edge of the river, showing evidence of substantial repairs underway, and which was clearly a base for these soldiers. Here they found a mass grave. The matriarch did not linger.

  They followed Isaura’s journey to a small, looted village, where her trail made it obvious she had explored.

  This must have been their home. These bodies once her friends. The trail was much clearer now. How has she remained, even with Pio’s help? Her very life’s energy is dissipating, merging with the wild. Umniga, despairing, looked back at the way they had come and was shocked. Isaura’s aura trail was gone. If she had a guardian and training this would not have happened. How long can she last? The matriarch flashed agreement through her mind and picked up their pace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE TRAIL ENDED at a small cabin in the woods. Umniga and the Asena stopped before an old hollow tree that should have been long dead, yet was sprouting new growth. There was no sign of Isaura. The Asena walked around the tree investigating it and the ground closely. Umniga had no idea what they were looking for. Isaura should be here. The fact that she was not filled Umniga with despair. They were too late. The matriarch sat before the hollow. Curious, Umniga moved beside her and peered in. Nothing.

  Pio’s music, hitherto unheard on their journey, cascaded loudly and vibrantly around them. Pulsing with the colours of his aura merged with that of the Asena, the music gambolled about the clearing. Umniga could feel its power reined in, like an unruly pup, and directed solely at the tree. Umniga was sure the matriarch was calling to Isaura—trying to reach whatever kernel of her was left. Umniga wanted to call to her, to use her name, but her abilities had been curbed; she was not sure the matriarch would allow her to. The matriarch simply stared at her. You know everything I think, don’t you?

  ‘Isaura, come forth. Isaura, friend to Pio, come forth. Isaura, return!’ Nothing. Umniga finished with an unmistakable quiet plea. ‘Child, please, return to your friends.’ What am I doing? She won’t understand me. Amusement emanated from the matriarch, but was quickly cut off, as she gazed intently into the hollow.

  Pulling, tugging, pulling. First to The Wild. Now back. Here was warm, safe, but also free and vibrant. The robin and the stag showed the way. The call was always there, following it had been natural—easy. There was no regret, no pain, no weariness. Now another pull. The energy that was Isaura was being dragged back together from the comfort of oblivion. This pull—this call, was inescapable. The Wild was seductive and tenacious, it fought back. With each fragment of Isaura’s energy that it lost, it beckoned with renewed promises and reached with greedy tendrils attempting to ensnare her power for itself. But the way back was blocked. With each little piece that was recovered from The Wild, more of Isaura was resurrected and the new call became harder to resist. The call coalesced into sound—music coupled with an inexorable will.

  Umniga watched, amazed and fascinated, as the power of the music invaded the ancient tree. She was poignantly aware that she was being allowed to see this. A pulse of music broke off, and like a hound with a scent it tracked Isaura’s trail around the clearing. It spooled her aura back into itself, finally arrowing joyously into the hollow.

  Slowly a violet light began to glow dully within the prison of the hollow tree. The light coalesced into the outline of a tree—a willow tree. Two trees. Gods, it’s the pattern! The glow began simultaneously at the trunks and then flowed out along the branches and roots—everywhere that Umniga and Asha had painted. There was no image or projection of Isaura’s body, just the ghostly violet trees. Something of her must still be here.

  The matriarch watched the trees intently as she drew Isaura’s spirit forth. The image moved toward them, but stopped as if anchored. Umniga saw a thin tendril that still connected Isaura’s energy to the ancient tree. Umniga could have sworn she heard the matriarch huff with impatience. However, the cold, determined cast never wavered from her features. A blast of energy the colour of Isaura’s aura left her and plunged into the willow image. By the gods! Now Umniga knew why Isaura’s trail had vanished after they travelled along it. The matriarch—she spooled it. With that blast, the last greedy tendril, clinging to what was Isaura, had broken. The new growth on the old tree withered.

  Pio’s playing has improved. Gods! Does he have to play so loudly? Isaura thought as she was dragged awake. Her thoughts came to a jarring halt, when she realised she was still in the tree. Isaura had no recollection of what she had been doing after she entered the tree to rest, other than that she had felt warm and safe and had forgotten the pain that had brought her here. Now, she remembered. Pio’s playing continued. What is bloody well going on? She noticed three shapes watching her. Three spirits. Two scarily huge wolves and an old woman. Wary, she sought the safety of the tree, but a vice-like grip trapped her.

  She looked closely. I’ve seen the old woman before … on the boat. Isaura felt vulnerable, exposed and weary. Why are they looking at me like that? Self-consciously, Isaura looked down at herself. Shit! Where have I gone? … I’m a tree? She was panicking. She knew she was panicking, but really … a tree?

  A deep, droll, female voice sounded in her mind. ‘You are not a tree, young one. You have only to fully remember who you are, what you looked like.’ There was a pause. ‘Strengthen your image as you did before.’

  ‘As I did before …’ Isaura concentrated, watching carefully as her image returned and the willow and oak faded but did not disappear. Suspicious, Isaura remained within the safety of the tree. ‘How did you know what I did before? Where were you?’ Isaura assumed it was the old woman who had spoken, yet when she looked up, she saw only a beautiful younger woman in a grey robe, with vibrant blue eyes and waist length silvery hair that ended in blue tips. First trees, now this!

  Laughter rained down around her and through her. She felt a tremulous spark of joy take root in her and explode forth in answer. She quashed it. ‘Who are you? How did you find me?’

  ‘Prayers, Isaura—your friends’ and yours.’

  ‘I never …’ Isaura paused, struck dumb.

  The lady smiled. ‘Yes, you did. On the mountain you prayed for strength to help your friends survive. How do you think you lasted this long? On the boat, you prayed for “someone to get you out of this shit.” I believe that was your phrase.’

  Isaura’s mind raced. She looks so different, yet she speaks the common tongue. A god … goddess? The lady waited with a supremely serene look upon her face. ‘The old woman?’

  ‘She is a priestess,’ she paused. ‘She is … mine. I made sure that she found you.’

  ‘You are a goddess then?’

  ‘I am many things, but goddess will do.’

  ‘Where are the others? The old woman? The wolves?’

  ‘Not wolves—Asena. You need not fear them. They are … useful to me. They are still here, but unaware of our conversation. I do not speak your common tongue. In this realm there is no language, merely thoughts.’

  ‘What! You’re in my head? Get out,’ Isaura demanded.

  The woman’s face grew stern. ‘Be grateful, child. Without my power you would be lost.’

  ‘I was right where I want
ed to be.’ Isaura’s eyes narrowed in challenge as she goaded her. ‘So, you’re a goddess then? Why should I believe that? Everything you’ve told me you could just pluck out of my head. For all I know you’re just another spirit, and so are they.’

  The lady’s face retained a slight serene smile, yet it did not reach her eyes. ‘If I were like you, then how can I read your thoughts, when you cannot read mine? How did I know where to find you? You’ll have to show some faith, Isaura.’

  ‘You can see into my mind. How much faith do you see there?’ Isaura replied sarcastically.

  ‘You have faith enough. Faith in your friends. I would be your friend if you would let me.’

  ‘Gods don’t have friends, they have playthings.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t believe in gods?’

  ‘I don’t have faith in them. I don’t even have faith in myself.’

  ‘You had faith in yourself.’

  ‘Had. I couldn’t even protect my friends. I killed a child. My own father tried to kill me and if I’d left him where he wanted to be, I would have saved him and Gabi’s parents. I failed. You turn up out of nowhere and drag me back to face this and you want me to have faith, to believe you want to be my friend. A friend would have left me alone. Where were you earlier, before everything went to shit?’

  The smile vanished. ‘Where was I? Watching. You needed this, without it you …’ Abruptly she changed tack. ‘Stop trying to goad me, Isa. It will not work. You want me to end you. I will not. That is your decision alone.’ Her visage softened. ‘Child—Isaura, you are blaming yourself for things over which you had no control. You were honouring your mother’s memory when you chose to bring your father. You had no way of knowing …’