Sky of Shadows Section 4

Whetu watched as Avalon rested quietly. The spell she had cast over the girl would keep her calm even through her dreams. Though it would not last forever and would most likely wear off by the time she awoke. Whetu herself was not in need of rest. Meditation served her well. But she did require certain information. Letting the girl sleep, Whetu moved silently down the stairs. She passed Amalia who was headed up to retrieve the dishes.1

Derran turned to Whetu. “Still creeping around, are we?”2

Whetu smiled sweetly, as if he had just called her beautiful. “My dear Derran, I do not creep. I have simply found that it is easier to survive by not drawing attention to oneself.”3

Derran made a sound that was like a scoff and a chuckle rolled into one. He took a nearby rag and began scrubbing the wooden counter. The air in the main room was fresher than it seemed it should have been. Many of those who passed through brought along their pipes and vices. But Derran had some secret means to keep his inn clean.4

“Where is Tatum?” Whetu inquired.5

“Collecting already?” Derran asked. With a thick-lipped half smile he gestured toward the swinging wooden door that separated the kitchen from the bar. Nodding her thanks, Whetu followed the hand.6

She pushed on the door and it moved without much effort. She was suddenly swarmed by an assortment of flavors and scents. She could distinctly detect rice and beans and the remains of the roasted pork. Tatum had worked hard to make his meal worthy. Strange, though, that he was nowhere in sight.7

She moved around pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and leaning over the edge of counters and end tables. There was more metal and wood in this room than there was stone in a quarry. Sweeping past an array of silver pots, Whetu turned and met the tall, thin-faced man. His yellow eyes were shallow yet held a certain depth. His hair, brown and matted with sweat, was tied up behind his head. His naturally dark complexion was even darker with grease and cooking material.8

“Tatum,” she said gently, her voice seeming to quiet the noise of the boiling water and singing flames.9

The man froze before her, startled at her sudden appearance. He blinked once and regained his composure. “Mistress Whetu,” he replied, his voice mild and hoarse. “A pleasure to see you again. After seven years we had begun to wonder…”10

“Death has closed his eyes to me thus far, Tatum. Though I can feel his rod on my arm.” Folding her hands into her sleeves, she spoke with more concern. “How have you faired, friend?”11

“As I always have.” Tatum moved past her to the boiling water, adding in the ingredients to his next meal. “I cook, I clean, I serve the customers. And in return I am housed and clothed and fed. And not arrested.”12

“Yes,” Whetu said with a glimmer in her eye. “I have heard the dungeons of Rumia are not pleasant.”13

“They aren’t.” He scooped a cutting tray worth of celery into the boiling pot and gave the mixture a mild stir. “What is it you need?”14

“Information.”15

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “For two silverpiece? I’m not sure I owe you that much.”16

Whetu moved closer to him, her eyes locked on him. She stopped just shy of him and moved her hand gracefully over his cooking pot. The fire puffed out as her fingers moved over it. She turned over her palm, revealing a soft violet glow. “You owe me much, ‘Tatum,’ far more than a meal and a kind chat. Is it time for me to collect?”17

He eyed the violet glow, avoiding her gaze. His breath caught in his chest for a moment. A shiver tingled down his spine and he let out a shaky breath. “No… no. No, Mistress Whetu. What do you need to know?”18

Holding her gaze and her stance, the woman spoke with authority. “Ragnorak City. Who besieged it and why?”19

“Questions of purpose are difficult for those not involved to answer, Enchantress.” Tatum’s voice quivered slightly. “But I can give you a likely ‘who’. The silver eagle. On this I can say no more.”20

Whetu smiled calmly and closed her hand. The violet glow vanished. “Thank you, friend. I shall remember your help when the day comes.”21

She left his kitchen with as much grace as she entered. When the swinging door closed behind her, the cooking flame sparked back to life. Tatum was no stranger to Whetu’s unique abilities, but he still jumped at the whoosh of the fire. He breathed a long, steady breath and continued to cook.22

Whetu passed through the barroom of the inn as a shadow. The silver eagle, he’d said. It was the mark of the beast riders of the Sylvan Region. As far as Whetu knew, the beast riders were neutral in the affairs of kings and empires. The Sylvan Region was not owned by the Empire but was a free land where only trees and animals reigned. And, of course, the beast riders who tamed the forest creatures. Still, she trusted Tatum’s word. He had never lied to her before, though it would have easily spared him much tribulation. The Sylvan Region was their next destination.23

---24

The morning dawned and Avalon rose rested and well. The wounds she suffered seemed to have almost completely healed. As she was investigating this, Whetu came into the room. The woman watched the gypsy for a moment before stating, “Rosedirk. It is a flowering tree whose red petals have a natural healing salve.”25

“It’s incredible.” Avalon replied, truly stunned by how well and quickly the Rosedirk worked.26

“We have our path. It is time to leave.”27

The two beasts Derran lent them were stout and heavily muscled. Their coarse winter coats gave them an unkempt appearance, with tufts of hair scattered across the horses’ broad backs. Spring was in full bloom, so when they shook the loose hair tickled Avalon’s nose. Once she heard the tiny squeak of Whetu’s sneeze.28

Avalon had her fingers threaded through the black mane. Its rough texture bit into her calloused hands as she fought to stay on the rolling four-legged giant. When touring with her troop, she rode in wagons or walked beside them; riding horses did not come naturally.29

“Whetu, tell me where we are going?” Avalon asked sweetly.30

Whetu glanced out of the corner of here eye at her companion. She was not fooled by Avalon’s docile attitude. As always, she wore her robe, even in the mild heat.31

“It’s an old growth forest called the Sylvan Region. Legends say the Runes of the Gods were found in the center most point of this forest. An impoverished shepherd tripped while chasing a sheep across a clearing. This boy grew up to become Monsieur Kale. He was the first guardian of the Runes, Defender of the stones, until his last breath. After that they slipped from the histories and the walls of the monastery and found their way to my people."32

Avalon chewed at her bottom lip before asking, “So we’re headed into the heart of this forest?”33

“Yes,” replied Whetu calmly.34

“What made you decide to take us there?” Avalon asked, while yanking on the head of the beast she had named Stubborn. Every chance he got the horse lowered its squared head to graze.35

“I gathered some information from a source in Novic.”36

“And how reliable is this informant?”37

Whetu turned to hold Avalon’s gaze. “Very reliable.”38

Avalon just watched Whetu as the horses passed by stands of trees choked with shrubs.39

The sun crawled down to the purple jagged peaks that lay on the horizon, beautifully framed by the dusty pinks and sherbet orange of the sun’s setting. The well-worn road they followed had a canopy of palm-sized leaves and thick, gnarled bows. Branches intertwined from both sides, hiding the clear sky from Avalon and Whetu. Birds called out and leaves fluttered to the ground on warm air currents, as they hopped from limb to limb.40

Slowly the sun escaped the heat of the day and the trees crowded the road, until only a trail of trampled grass lead the way. Whetu was in front, while Avalon followed lazily, fighting with Stubborn. The grass grew dense, giving the horse every temptation to eat.41

Animals played in the undergrowth, adding to the music of the birds. A beat of life thumped out of every corner, lulling the pair into a state of relaxation.42

It was a time before Avalon noticed the absence of insect sounds. No longer did birds fuss from treetops. Whetu held up a scarred hand. Avalon halted Stubborn, letting his head drop to graze.43

Avalon waited in silence, every nerve tense and ready. The mane of Stubborn bit into her palm as she gripped it tightly.44

Whetu motioned to Avalon to dismount the horse and to be ready. Avalon slid off the beast clumsly, dropping to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust that caused Avalon to sneeze. When she looked up after the sneeze, armed men stood before Whetu.45

Four stout men with four crossbows draped across one arm stood with legs apart in an alert stance. A small short sword hung from each belt on green trousers. Leather vest, in various shades of browns molded against muscular chests, leaving scarred arms naked.46

One gentleman stood a bit in front of the others. His wavy, coal black hair hung to his shoulders, with three thin, beaded braids hanging from one temple. Besides a bow and sword, a small blade was secured at his right thigh. “State your business,” he barked in a gravely voice. The sound hurt Avalon’s music sensitive ears and she held her shoulders against the sides of her head to shield them.47

Whetu swung gracefully from Steady’s back and planted her feet apart slightly, assuming a non-threatening stance. “We are no threat young beast rider. We only seek knowledge.” Whetu’s hands hung idly at her sides.48

He looked over his shoulders at his companions before asking his next question. “And what knowledge do you seek?”49

Whetu folded her slim hands into the sleeves of the opposite arms. “We come looking for one who has made his alliance with the Sorceress Kirsten.”50

From behind the front man came quick intakes of breath. A couple of men hid a cough behind their hands and all shifted uncomfortably. “I am Brysen.” He bowed low, his knuckles sweeping the damp ground. “And your name good lady?51

“I am called Sonja of Tempest. The youngster behind me is my sister Tonya.”52

Brysen rose up and stood with his hands to his side, close to the hilt of his sword. “Of the Tempest, you say?” He looked back at the other beast riders and barked at them to lower their weapons. They obeyed without hesitation, though many of them were confused.53

“Long we have awaited the arrival of daughters of the wind,” he said, facing Whetu again. “After nearly fourteen days we assumed you had been sacked on your journey.”54

He motioned for two of the riders to take the horses. The two closest to him moved forward and took the reigns. Avalon glanced at Whetu before surrendering the leather straps. She bit back a laugh as she watched the man struggle with Stubborn, who was far more interested in the crisp blades of grass beneath his hooves.55

Managing to persuade the horses to follow, the riders headed back to their encampment. Brysen beckoned for Whetu and Avalon to follow and they fell into step with him. “What do you think of our forest?” he asked.56

Whetu responded softly, almost enchantingly, “It’s very green.” And although that comment should’ve have sufficed, Brysen seemed to think that she had said something more extravagant. He beamed with pride as if he had grown this forest himself.57

“Yes,” he said, “it is indeed magnificent. Nearly three hundred thousand trees of more than seventy species. In the thickest paths even the sun cannot penetrate and the sound of a dying dragon would not carry past the braches.”58

Though he continued to boast about the forest, Whetu couldn’t help but think about that thickest region. There was more going on in this forest that Brysen would admit to, more happening in Rumia itself that any one person could follow. Since when did beast riders and the Tempest’s Daughters commune? Whetu followed the beast rider with her hands in her sleeves and her mind focused.