As Fire is to Gold (Chronicles of the Ilaroi Book 1)

by Mark McCabe

  Despite this precaution, he told her he thought pursuit was unlikely. “Once,” he told her, “when I was fishing with my father, I let a big salmon get out of our net, just as we were ready to pull it into our skiff. When I cried my father said, ‘Don’t worry, his brother or sister’ll do just as nicely.’ I think they’re more likely to go and look for another victim than for someone who bites back like you did.”

  When he started to tell her about himself she knew he was trying to comfort her and help her to focus on something other than what she’d just been through. The names and places meant nothing to her but it did help. He sounded like a normal sort of person and although she had no idea what to do next, Sara finally began to hope she might be free of her captors for good. With a shudder, she remembered the image of Ruz with Tug’s knife in his belly. He was dead, she was sure. Tug wasn’t though, although he must be badly injured. And what of Golkar? She hadn’t seen him again since that first night. Would he come after her? She hoped he would go looking for easier prey and leave her alone as Rayne had suggested.

  Sara plied Rayne with questions, seeking the information she’d been unable to get from Ruz or Tug. She found him much more forthcoming. She learnt that the world she was in was called Ilythia. Rayne’s knowledge of its geography was limited, but he knew that there were at least two large landmasses, Tenamos and Liricor, joined by a narrow neck of land. The region they were travelling through was part of Tenamos. If his knowledge of the extent of Tenamos was limited, he knew virtually nothing of Liricor or whatever else there may be beyond its shores.

  The forest they were travelling through was part of what was known as the Western Wilderness. Rayne’s home had been in a fairly isolated area to the south of where they were now. The Southern Marches he called it. From what Sara could gather it constituted a loose confederation of independent provinces which had a long history of resisting central rule and which had, to date, through a combination of various geographical factors and the locals’ willingness to unite sufficiently to resist takeover, been able to resist any attempt to absorb them into either of the neighbouring kingdoms, Algaria or Kardonia. Rayne was on his way to a town called Keerêt, the capital of Algaria, to join the Algarian militia.

  Apparently, he was an orphan. His mother had died from pneumonia when he was only four and his father had been killed in an accident on their neighbour’s farm only three weeks ago. In many ways, Sara felt some affinity with his plight. Her loved ones were certainly far from her now too, possibly beyond all reach.

  As they talked on, Sara slowly augmented her knowledge of Ilythia, of its people and their lives. Technologically it was as she’d thought, they had no knowledge of electricity or of modern machines. Rayne didn’t even understand those words. From what he told her, it seemed a fairly primitive society. He talked of a nobility, of merchants and of peasants, most of the latter tied to the land. She’d learnt terms for that at school, ‘pre-industrial’ and ‘feudal’ were words that came to mind.

  The most stunning difference from the world she knew, though, was the use of magic, even if it was only practised by a select few. Although it amazed her, it helped her to make sense of Golkar and what had happened to her. Her ready acceptance of all that she heard brought home to her how inured she’d become to the strange circumstances that had befallen her since she’d entered this enigmatic and frightening world.

  Eventually, they tired of talk and for a while they were silent. By the position of the sun, Sara guessed it was early afternoon. They had been riding for some hours without a break, chattering incessantly and swapping stories about their backgrounds, both delighting, though for different reasons, in the unexpected company. Sara felt more heartened then she’d been for a long time. In the few short hours since they’d met, she’d begun to find hope. At the very least, she’d been able to dispel the notion that this was a world peopled entirely by demons, cutthroats and evil wizards. Rayne’s experience was clearly very far from that.

  “Can I come with you?” she pleaded suddenly, breaking the silence and making every effort to keep her voice steady and natural. It was a question she’d been wanting to ask for some time, fear of the answer suppressing it till she could no longer restrain herself. She liked Rayne. He was kind and considerate and she’d hit it off with him right from the start. He had a quaint sort of rustic charm to him and seemed both open and honest. Her intuition told her he was someone to trust, not that she had others to choose from.

  “I’ve nowhere to go and I don’t know what to do,” she rushed on. “Perhaps if I could get to a town there would be someone who could help me get home. Keerêt sounds like that sort of place. If Golkar could bring me here, someone must be able to send me home.”

  “There you go with that name again,” said Rayne with a touch of exasperation in his voice. “I don’t think you can have heard it right. Golkar is one of the Guardians. They don’t go around kidnapping people. Everyone reveres them and they’ve protected us for centuries. It must have just been a name that sounded like that. It couldn’t have been Golkar.”

  Anger and frustration boiled up within Sara, fuelled by an awareness that Rayne had completely ignored her plea. “It was Golkar,” she said indignantly. “They said it a number of times and I know what I heard. Don’t call me a liar. I’m not an idiot. I heard what you said about him. Maybe he’s been fooling everyone. How many wizards are there, anyway?”

  “Only three. Everyone in Ilythia knows of them although only the highest deal with them, and certainly not the likes of you or me. Golkar, Tarak and Kell are their names. We even measure the passing of time in honour of them. This is the Year of the 712th Summer of the New Age, though most folk just call it 712. That’s 712 years since the three guardians assumed their roles.”

  “Well,” said Sara smugly. “Doesn’t seem like there are any other wizards with a name like Golkar then.”

  Rayne said nothing at first in reply. Then, after a few moments, he responded. “Okay. You can come with me. What did you think? That I’d just leave you here?” He couldn’t see the broad grin that spread across Sara’s face.

  Chapter 4

  The smell of roasting meat drifted up from the crackling fire. Sara had never eaten rabbit before but relished the thought of doing so now. She was starving. But for some dried meat and nuts from his pack and a handful of berries garnered from bushes beside the trail, she and Rayne had barely eaten all day. Their dinner would be a well-earned one. They’d pushed on through the day till they were both completely exhausted.

  Most of the afternoon she’d spent seated behind Rayne. They’d quickly found that arrangement had the twin virtues of being both far more comfortable for her and infinitely more practical for Rayne than trying to crane his neck around or over her shoulder to get a proper view of the trail ahead. It had felt nice wrapping her arms around his waist to hang on when they’d been picking their way over uneven ground. She’d also enjoyed watching the way his muscular back moved as he twisted and turned in the saddle. She’d fallen asleep like that at one point with her head resting between his shoulder blades, getting very embarrassed when she’d woken up just in time to save herself from falling off.

  They’d left the valley long behind now and were camped in a small glen for the night, protected from sight as far as was possible. She hadn’t liked being left alone when Rayne had gone off with his bow to search for food after tending to his horse. He hadn’t been gone long though and had obviously enjoyed the fuss she’d made when he’d returned with two rabbits. She’d been even more surprised when he showed her the wild marjoram that he’d collected as well. The rabbits were slowly roasting on stakes before them now, the fat from their flesh hissing and sizzling as it dripped into the fire.

  As Sara sat watching the flames, fighting the drowsiness she felt creeping over her, she knew she’d be sore on the morrow. Thankfully she wasn’t a total stranger to riding. She and her friend Gemma sometimes went riding together at home, on a farm on the o
utskirts of their town. Unfortunately, the frequency of those trips had dropped away since she’d gone on to college. She remembered now how much she had always enjoyed the bond that developed between rider and horse, she could see it reflected here in Rayne’s attention to Nell.

  That was the horse’s name. Sara thought it cute, if not strange for a horse, there was a girl at her college back home called Nell. The mare wasn’t a large beast, a little over fifteen hands, she guessed, but her markings were striking. Her coat was dappled with speckles of black, like someone had taken a brush and flicked a fine spray of paint over her natural grey. Her tail and mane were darker than the rest. In contrast to her coat, the darker colour dominated there with fine streaks of grey flecked through the black. Rayne was obviously quite attached to the animal and had spent considerable time brushing her down and tending to her needs after he’d finally picked a campsite for the night.

  “Will you show me how to use the bow tomorrow?” Sara asked, looking up at Rayne who, though he quickly averted his gaze, couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his cheeks. She studiously suppressed the smile that threatened to crease her own face as she realised she’d caught him staring at her.

  After a moment, Rayne looked back at her again with his face a studied mask of composure. “If you want,” he said. “But it’s not an easy weapon to learn. My dad used to say a bow could sing for the right person, but in the wrong hands it’d howl like a mangy dog.”

  “Well,” replied Sara, wrinkling her nose at the comparison, “I have used one before. We did archery at school for a term. Only the bows we used were more complicated than yours. We had the latest sporting models at our school, and special gloves like they use in the Olympics.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what that is, but this is a fine bow, you’ll not find many better in all of Ilythia. It was my father’s and he said it’s as good as you’ll get.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Really.” Her constant references to how much better things were where she came from were obviously wearing thin. Sara resolved to resist such comparisons in the future. “I’d really like to learn. I’d like to be able to help in some way.”

  Rayne’s tone softened. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I’m so touchy. I know you’ve been through a lot and I can’t begin to guess what it must be like having no way home. I know what it’s like to have no home, but to have one and not be able to get there must be very hard.”

  Sara nodded, thinking of her friends and her family so far away. She could feel the moisture pooling in the corners of her eyes. Turning her head, she wiped her face with her sleeve.

  Rayne quickly fumbled for his kerchief. “Damn it. Don’t mind me. I’m just a clumsy oaf. Let’s talk about something else. Do you know any songs?”

  “Lots,” said Sara, laughing as she sniffled and gratefully accepted the proffered kerchief. “But I can’t sing.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” responded Rayne, smiling broadly. “Your voice sounds lovely, even when you’re talking.”

  Now it was her turn to blush. “I’ll feel silly,” she replied after a brief pause. “You start. If you sing something, I will.” Sara felt she was on safe ground with that.

  “Well, I definitely can’t sing,” said Rayne, appearing a little disappointed. “How about some riddles? Do you know any?”

  “I don’t know.” Sara was uncertain what Rayne meant by the term.

  “How about I start, then you see what you can do? The idea is that I describe it, then you have to guess what it is.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it a go.”

  “I’ll give you an easy one to start with.” Clearing his throat and sitting up straight, Rayne gave Sara the first riddle:

  “Four-legged hunter, wriggling prey,

  One of them chases, the other runs away,

  One of them bites, and feels a little pain,

  Not really fighting, it’s all just a game.”

  Sara thought about the words for only a short while before she shouted out excitedly, “I’ve got it. I’ve got it. It’s a kitten chasing its tail.” She had a cat at home, a Burmese called Inca, and although he was older now and tended to sleep most of the time, she remembered when they’d first brought him home how he would chase his tail round and round, never seeming to tire of the game. She’d always wondered whether he really thought his tail was a snake or a monster or whether he knew it was his all along.

  “Yes, very good. Your go now.”

  Sara thought for a while then recited the following. She knew it was easy, as everyone she knew had heard it, but it was all she could think of:

  “Brothers and sisters I have none,

  But that man there, is my father’s son.”

  Rayne frowned as he looked back at Sara. He was obviously turning the words over in his mind. When he hadn’t answered after some time Sara began to think that she might have stumped him.

  “Do you give in?” she asked him, as soon as he looked up at her.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Do you give up?” The frown on Rayne’s face made it plain that he still didn’t understand. “Have you had enough time to guess it?”

  Rayne was clearly perplexed. “Yes. I can’t see it. I’m afraid I’m not good at working these out. I’ve heard lots and can usually get them because I know them, but I’ve never heard that one before.”

  “It’s a man looking at himself in the mirror,” said Sara, feeling very smug that she had stumped him first go.

  Rayne thought about what Sara had said for a few moments and then looked up at her with a grin. “Of course, that’s very clever.”

  “Your turn,” said Sara. Thoughts of either home or her troubles were now far from her mind.

  “Right,” said Rayne. “Try this one:

  “Down in the meadow, watching the sheep,

  The old man stands, wanting to weep,

  The stream rushes by, he waits and thinks,

  And reaches right down, and silently drinks.”

  Sara thought about this for a while, thinking of sheep in a meadow with trees swaying in the breeze as a cool stream runs by. All of a sudden it came to her.

  “Old man willow,” she cried out, her face beaming as she spoke.

  “We call him Grandfather Willow,” said Rayne, “but that’s right.”

  Sara was beginning to enjoy herself immensely. She was also gaining in confidence. “I’ve got a cute little poem I could sing for you,” she blurted out excitedly, the riddles quickly forgotten.

  “I’d like that,” Rayne replied, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.

  “Okay. But don’t laugh. I’m not a very good singer.”

  Sara sat up straight, then began to sing, slowly at first, then more strongly as she went on.

  “One day one day

  While in the woods

  I met a bear

  A great big bear

  One day, one day, while in the woods

  I met a bear, a great big bear

  He looked at me

  I looked at him

  He sized up me

  I sized up him

  He looked at me, I looked at him

  He sized up me, I sized up him

  He said to me

  Why don’t you run?

  I see you ain’t

  Got any gun

  He said to me, why don’t you run?

  I see you ain’t got any gun

  And so I ran

  Away from there

  But right behind

  Me was that bear

  And so I ran away from there

  But right behind me was that bear

  Then up ahead

  I spied a tree

  A great big tree

  O lordy me

  Then up ahead I spied a tree

  A great big tree, O lordy me

  The nearest branch

  Was ten feet up

  I’d have to jump

  And trust to luck

&nb
sp; The nearest branch was ten feet up

  I’d have to jump and trust to luck

  And so I jumped

  Into the air

  But I missed that branch

  Away up there

  And so I jumped into the air

  But I missed that branch away up there

  Now don’t you fret

  Now don’t you frown

  Cause I caught that branch

  On my way down

  Now don’t you fret, now don’t you frown

  Cause I caught that branch on my way down

  The moral of

  This story is

  Don’t talk to bears

  While in the woods

  The moral of this story is

  Don’t talk to bears while in the woods

  That’s all, that’s all

  There ain’t no more

  Unless you meet

  A dinosaur

  That’s all, that’s all, there ain’t no more

  Unless you meet a dinosaur.”

  Sara gave a mock bow, giggling as Rayne clapped his hands.

  “That was great,” said Rayne, laughing with delight. “What’s a dinosaw?”

  They made good progress over the next two days, slowly but surely lengthening the distance between themselves and the valley where Rayne had found Sara. On their third day together, they were taking a brief rest while Nell drank her fill from a small stream when Rayne suggested they needed a good break, both for them and for Nell.

  “Let’s light a fire and I’ll stew up that coney I’ve been keeping, and those greens I brought with me. If they don’t get cooked soon they’ll go off.”

  Sara took little convincing. She’d found that riding for such long periods was tiring business and she quickly agreed to his suggestion, volunteering to help in case he thought better of the idea. Under Rayne’s supervision, she then prepared and lit a small fire.

  Sara knew she was a quick learner and she delighted in impressing Rayne as she lit the fire at her first attempt. The small twigs and dried leaves quickly burned and provided the necessary heat for the larger pieces of wood to catch alight. She saw no reason to tell him that, although she hadn’t done this before herself, she’d often watched her father light their barbecue at home.