Roar, page 18
“So, you’re nearly back in the Eternal City I see.”
A voice intruded on Thorm's meditations, surprising him. That it was a voice he knew, and not that of someone he considered an enemy surprised him more. Of late it had seemed that everyone who chose to talk to him meant him ill. But she wasn't a friend either. It took him a moment to place her voice.
“Oracle?” It was her although he couldn't understand how she could speak to him when as far as he knew she was presently with the escapees on their way to Erisen. Nor did he understand why he seemed to be awake yet still in a dream state. He felt completely alert and yet was surrounded by an inky blackness. He also felt overcome by a feeling of complete relaxation.
“Ahh, at least Matilde's pummelling of you hasn't completely robbed you of your wits. She really is quite proud of that you know.”
“I'm sure.” He had no doubt she would be taking pleasure in his pain. And that she'd like to inflict more of it on him. “But how is it that you are speaking to me? Or me to you? And why?”
“Because I'm an oracle and my Mistress dictates. She says we have things to speak of. A common enemy.”
“Matilde?” Perhaps it was a cheeky thing to say, but it felt good saying it.
“The Eternal King of course.” The Oracle didn't seem upset by his quip. But she didn't sound particularly amused by it either. Then again, he wasn't sure she found anything amusing. She didn't seem to have much of a sense of humour from what he recalled of her.
“You live in his city. The only wizard we know of that is not under his control and who is not being actively hunted by him. That is useful.”
“Useful?” Thorm sensed trouble coming. He didn’t like it, particularly after their last meeting and her refusal to help him in any way. Still, he was interested in hearing whatever schemes she was planning – if only so he could avoid them.
“We propose an arrangement.”
“We? I hear only you.”
“And you will hear only me. You can speak to me and I to you when you are between waking and sleeping. But only me. I will speak for the others.”
“What ‘others’?”
“Those who stand against the Eternal King of course,” she answered him cryptically. “And those who may be able to help you.”
Did he believe her? Thorm didn't know. How could he when he didn't know her or even know enough about oracles to guess if she was being honest. Perhaps they were required to speak the truth? He thought he'd once heard something about that. But he was also sure he had heard tales of oracles telling the truth in such a way as to make lies look more honest.
“Tell me about this arrangement.”
“We will ask you to do certain things for us and in return we will provide you with some training in magic. We will also teach you some more spells.”
“Hmm.” Thorm thought about it for a time, wondering if he should accept the deal. It was a good one in some respects. He did need more spells. And the one thing he had learned was that he couldn't seem to get much of what he wanted from books – so far. But at the same time he had no doubt he would be required to put himself in harm’s way. Make himself a target for the King's wrath. And then there was the fact that it was only part of what he wanted. And the rest was more important.
Eventually he came to a decision.
“No.” Thorm surprised himself with his decision. Even when the word came out of his mouth. But it was what it had to be.
“No?” The Oracle sounded surprised.
“No.” He was almost sorry to refuse her. But it was the right thing to do. “I will master my magic by myself. I will find the spells I need to free myself. It may well be slower without your help. But it will happen. The things I need are not what you offer. And I will not be used. Least of all when you are talking about going to war with the Eternal King. The one who can never be killed. Wars kill people and I do not wish to be killed or to kill anyone.”
“You do not know what we may be able to teach you.”
“I do not even know who “We” are,” he pointed out. “But I know what you will not offer.” Thorm put it simply. He knew that she would not offer him the chance to walk as a man again. He didn't know why, but he was certain that that would never be offered to him.
“You wish to regain your human form. I have already said I cannot offer you that knowledge.”
She was lying! It took a moment for Thorm to realise that. To know that his doubts about her had been confirmed. Except that he knew she wasn't lying at all. She was telling the truth – in a way that made the truth a lie. It was a deception. He could hear it in her voice. And he even understood how she was deceiving him. It was suddenly so clear to him. The truth was that she couldn't tell him what he wanted to know, but not because it was beyond her ability or knowledge. The reason she couldn’t tell him was because she had been instructed not to. And there was only one person – or rather Goddess – who she would accept an order like that from. The Goddess Artana. He didn't like the idea that a Goddess wanted to toy with him. He didn't like it at all.
“Truth spoken in deception is a lie Oracle. You should know better.” He confronted her. The time for manners had passed. “I don't know why your Goddess has prevented you from telling me what I want to know. But she's lost a follower today. Neither you nor your Goddess will dictate my path.”
“You defy Artana?!” She sounded shocked.
“I will do what is best for me. Your Goddess may try to order me around but she has no claim on me. You yourself said that I was wild and would upset your plans for this war of yours. Now suddenly you think you can use me. You would place my life in danger in order to support your war effort, and offer me trinkets I do not need as a reward.”
“I won't be a puppet in your war. I am not a soldier. I do not know your true purpose and I do not trust you. You showed me no kindness when you had the opportunity. No fraction of hope. Not even a trace of sympathy. You set your witch upon me to hurt me badly when I had offered you no harm. We are certainly not friends.”
“But even then I might have considered your deal had you spoken truthfully. You did not. You are not to be trusted. As Zara says, the righteous walk openly and with truth in their mouths.”
The Oracle grew silent, thinking perhaps about what he'd said. More probably though she was trying to think of another way to convince him to her cause. She didn’t deny his accusation, though.
“The Goddess does what's best –.”
“Not for me!”
“You ask too much!” The Oracle retorted, anger growing in her words.
“And you offer too little!” he snapped back. “You and your Goddess have nothing left to speak to me about. Leave! And don't annoy me again!”
The anger rose from somewhere deep inside him. Anger such as he hadn't even known was inside him. And with it came freedom, as he woke from whatever spell he was under. Maybe he just couldn't remain sleeping with that fury bubbling up in his soul.
Whatever the reason, he was suddenly fully awake. The Oracle had gone along with the dream world. Thorm was happy about that. He did not want to speak to her any more.
In any case he had things to do. The moon was high in the sky and it was finally time for him to go home.
But as he rose and pulled his spell of chameleon tight around him once more, a sour mood came upon him. Suddenly he found it hard to think of the things he had learned from his adventures outside the Eternal City. Instead the failures dominated his thoughts. He had learned little. He had angered a fell witch and probably the daughter of another one. He had angered the avaryads as well. And though he had saved the escapees from countless troll hunters as well as some mammoths, absolutely no one had shown him even an ounce of gratitude.
As he set off quietly across the grasslands, Thorm realised that as ever he was alone. But at least the whole misadventure had shown him that he was stronger than he thought. Much stronger and he would become stronger still. The Oracle and the Eternal King both be damned!
Chapter Eighteen
The land of Erisen was not how Camille had imagined it. Just what she had imagined she couldn’t quite say, but Camille certainly didn’t expect it would look the same as the Volden Plains from where they’d just come. Or at least the town of Yissell Arn, which was the only part of it she'd seen so far, seemed much like any other town.
But then it was on the northern most border of Erisen. Probably only a few leagues away from the nearest towns of the Volden Plains. There were a lot of people here who spoke trade as well as Doranic. There were a lot of traders too. Maybe things would change as she headed deeper into the heart of Erisen. Not that she was planning on doing that. She was safe here. That was enough. And she understood this town.
The houses were simple wooden affairs, much the same as she would see in any town in the Plains. Perhaps there were more logs and cedar slates and less brick and stone than she was used to, but it was a minor difference. The workshops and stores were the same too, even if the shingles were painted in a different script. But a cooper was still a cooper and a blacksmith still a blacksmith. The streets hadn’t been cobbled and the grass had been allowed to grow. But in the towns surrounding the Eternal City, the streets were often a mixture of grass and dirt. And the people wandered along them freely as they went about their business, just as they did everywhere else. Here and there she could see children playing, dogs running around with them, and cats sunning themselves. In fact the only difference she could see was the presence of hamadryads and not plains folk, and that was something quickly forgotten. She had quickly adapted to the sight of the dappled skin and ragged ears and now she barely noticed them.
Coin though was a worry. She had none. None of them did. But even if they had had any it would have been no good. These people had coins of ivory, jade and ebony of various sizes, a far cry from the bits and pieces of the Plains. For the moment they were all right as the Oracle was paying for what they needed. But sooner or later that would change she guessed.
Camille also didn't like the style of clothing they wore here. She was used to wearing a simple dress, perhaps with a blouse and a jacket. But dresses weren’t available for purchase here. Instead the women wore trousers – strange looking ones that flared out until they flowed like a dress – and unexpectedly tight vests. Everywhere she went she could hear the material swishing as she walked. It felt strange.
Still, they were minor things to put up with if it meant she would no longer be hunted by the Eternal King's soldiers and trolls, or be locked in a dungeon without sunlight and little food. She also wouldn’t have to march any further either if she decided to stay. She could just sit out in the sunshine and rest. Camille was heartily sick of marching.
Perhaps best of all though, there was no sign of the King’s colours. Or at least very little. She had spent years in the Palace of the Sun, surrounded by the soldiers in their damned blue uniforms. And then the guards in the dungeon had worn it too – as had the troll hunters and the soldiers who had hunted them. Even she had been forced to wear it. She had learnt to hate that colour. Here however, few wore the colour and when they did it was purely for themselves and not to show loyalty to the Eternal King. Camille loved the idea of being able to wear whatever colour she chose.
It was a pretty town. The streets were wide and every house or shop had a flower garden out front. She hadn't seen that before. Usually gardens were for vegetables; not wild flowers. There were also a number open spaces that had been left as empty grass just for people to enjoy. Parks where children could play on the swings and adults could sit and consider the meaning of life. Why else would there be benches for people to sit on among the flower beds? Or a shrine to Artemis for that matter? She liked that.
But there was one thing that puzzled her more than everything else. Where was the magic? Where were the unicorns grazing in the fields? The thunderbirds soaring in the skies above? The drakons slithering through the long grass? Where were the wizards walking down every street casting spells? Their shops filled with magical sundries? This was supposed to be a land of magic. So where was it?
For some reason it seemed that there was no more magic on display in Erisen than there had been on the Plains. And there everyone who had magic had hidden it.
But then this realm looked nothing like the wilds it had always been described as. If anything it looked like a giant park, with trees dotted here and there, groupings of wild flowers, and endless fields of long, soft grass. Every now and then you would come across the occasional farm or cottage. These were the great southern wildlands? Hah! It looked closer to a giant estate than the wilds as far as she could see.
Still even though the stories had clearly been wrong about what Erisen was like, it was a place anyone would be happy to live. The weather was good and Camille was currently enjoying the warmth of the sun. The people were kind and had brought them all fresh clothes and good food. They also had good bathing facilities and had had their apothecaries and physicians attend to those of the escapees who needed it. There was no doubt that the escapees’ lives had improved enormously since they had arrived here. And the party was safe too, now forever beyond the Eternal King's reach as they were finally in Erisen. All in all, everyone had reason to be happy.
And yet no one was.
The hamadryads were upset because even though they were home and all of their number had survived, they had failed in their mission. What that mission was they had refused to say, but Camille understood it had been a complete failure and they hated the fact that they would now have to go before their superiors and admit it.
For the avaryads what hurt was being far from home and like their cousins having failed in their duty. They wanted to return to their homeland, but like the hamadryads, hated having to admit that they'd got everything wrong. For them it was that their presence had been exposed to the party. And then they'd been bested by a wizard lion. They also hadn't guessed what he was despite having spent a considerable amount of time studying him before trying to capture him.
As for the other escaped prisoners, they were mainly anxious, not knowing what trials this new land might bring and how they would survive. They had to learn a new tongue and a new way of life. And though they were fitter and healthier than they had been, many knew their injuries would never fully heal. It was also hard, knowing that they had families still in the Eternal City or elsewhere in the Plains and were likely to never see them again. Naturally they worried. Were their families still alive? And if they were how could they get word to their loved ones that they had escaped and were even now alive and well?
Elspeth was in that camp. The torturers had crippled one of her feet as punishment for her crime, and no matter how she bound it so she could walk, it would never come right. She walked with a stick, and kept her suffering to herself as best she could, but Camille saw the pain in her eyes. Pain made worse by the fact that she had committed no crime at all save to fall in love with a boy from a noble family. Her precious Gabe. It was the boy's father who had had her named as a defiler and had her imprisoned. They would not have their son wed an alehouse wench.
For all that, Elspeth still cared for the boy. For her beautiful Gabe, as she called him. She still wanted to be with him. And she swore blind that Gabe wanted to be with her. That he knew nothing of what had happened to her. It was only the accursed father who had stood in the way. She hated him for what he'd done. Not only for her foot and her time in the dungeon cell, but for keeping her from her true love as she claimed Gabe was. She could never be happy living in Erisen so long as her love was still in the Eternal City.
It should have been a good thing that Elspeth had Mara with her to keep her spirits up. And Mara had been a good friend to her. She had helped Elspeth to walk when the others would have left her behind. But Mara was no help at all any more. She was fuming because she blamed Thorm for her disgrace. Even when it turned out that she had brought much of her ruin on herself and betrayed her fiancé in the bargain, she blamed him. Camille guessed she always would. It was simply who she was. But at the same time Mara seemed to go through phases where she wanted him back. Most of the time she was a pure hell demon. Some of the time she was a saint as she had practically carried Elspeth all the way from the dungeon. And occasionally it seemed that Galena had her claws in her deep and she was as demented with love as Elspeth. The woman made no sense!
The Oracle was in a foul mood, though she said little of what troubled her. She had tried to get Thorm to do something and apparently it had all gone wrong. Bitterly wrong. But she had remained extremely closed mouthed about the whole thing. The only way Camille knew that something had happened was that her aunt kept making references to the Oracle's failure. The two of them were constantly sniping at each other like warring cats.
