- Chapter One -
Selara's Rule: Don't try to fly!
Selara was a seven-year-old girl with shocking red hair and piercing green eyes. Her knees and elbows were a road map of scrapes and scars. Her grimy skin was porcelain, scrubbed and polished by her grandmother every night after a day of adventures. She felt the world was created for her, and she had no fear of it; but this was not her world, and this was not her time. Her presence here defied all natural laws, bent and broken by a dangerous and forbidden Majik. In this world, she was a motherless waif; and strangely, her long forgotten mother had not even been born yet.
The mist danced and swirled across the weary landscape and gently caressed the twisted trees with sleepy hands. The years of war had left this valley tired and listless; almost too tired for green fields and flowers. A few Night Birds glided silently in the and out of the mist to perch like vultures on black blasted trees; weary soldiers on the edges of the grassy moor.
In the darkness of her room, Selara tossed and turned. Strands of red hair stuck to her face. It was the talking book again. Squiggles and lines made sounds in her dreams. Her mouth began to move involuntarily, forming some of the words in her troubled sleep. In her nightmare, the air sizzled, encircling her window with green fire. She saw a tall woman sitting on a marble bench with her shoulders slumped. A few tears wandered down her cheeks as she sat in her green world with stars swimming. The woman turned to look at her and Selara sat up staring. It was only a dream, she thought, pulling her homemade doll close and falling back to sleep.
Selara awoke to the familiar clatter of dishes and the smells of breakfast. Her grandmother and grandfather were the only parents that she could remember. They were mostly kind to her yet secretive and suspicious of others. They were fiercely protective, and constantly fought a losing battle to keep her out of harm’s way. Even at seven years of age, Selara was a force to be reckoned with and almost impossible to contain. Grandmother tried desperately to establish rules for her to keep her safe from all things seen and unseen.
Selara bounced down the stairs to her morning hugs and had a quick breakfast before bursting into the summer morning. She was a wisp of red hair bouncing and weaving through the waving grass. Her piercing green eyes surveyed the misty moor, scanning the horizon. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a distant discarded trunk partially submerged in the mud; its lid broken and cracked open. Nice try! She thought to herself. As silently as a cat, her muddy bare feet closed in on the gaping maw. Suddenly, grasping fingers closed firmly around the oily black feathers. “Got you!” exclaimed Selara triumphantly. The frightened little bird croaked in alarm then relaxed and let Selara’s hands lift him from his hiding place. Selara giggled, releasing the bird letting him flap his wings indignantly.
“I win!” she shouted, doing a short victory dance then scooping up the flapping bird and placing him on her shoulder. From high on a twisted branch beyond their sight, a larger Night Bird shook his head in disapproval. He spread his powerful wings and lifted off into the grey sky.
“Grandfather said he would teach me how to make fire serpents,” Selara said earnestly, as she wound her way through the roots and clumps of grass. “But it’s a secret so we have to keep quiet about it.” She stopped, looking sternly at the bird. “Do you understand?” He bobbed his head as if he understood her perfectly, not having the capacity for understanding human speech. “Grandfather tells me lots of interesting things, but I’m not supposed to talk about them. Right?” The bird appeared to gaze at her knowingly.
The two came to the edge of a clearing where she could see her Grandmother and Grandfather’s place. It consisted of a ramshackle farmhouse and a few sorry looking buildings leaning in silhouette together. The cows around them grazed contentedly largely ignoring her. “Nobody knows this yet, but the words in Grandfather’s book can talk to me!” She looked around as if the trees might be listening to her secret. The black bird croaked.
Wading through the tall grass, she sifted through her favourite memory collection. She found a good one. She remembered when Grandfather would carry her on his back for miles telling her stories of Dark Creatures, Majik, and epic battles. Grandfather was such a good storyteller. When he told a story, it was as if Selara was right there. It was if she was there seeing all of the action and feeling all of the excitement. Of course, she was sworn to secrecy, and had to promise not to share anything Grandfather had told her with Grandmother.
Some days, when she and her grandfather had walked for some time, Grandfather would look around to make certain they were alone and then he would perform the ‘fire trick’ for her. They would make a firehouse out of a pile of dead wood and grass, and Selara would then close her eyes and count. When she reached five, she would open her eyes and a pretty, orange fire serpent would wrap itself around the firehouse and chew it hungrily. Then suddenly in its place, a bright cheery fire would spring up to keep the two of them warm on the chilly morning while they talked.
Selara crept tentatively into the shadows of the smaller building. Bird rested contentedly on her shoulder. The door complained. It screeched as she crept into the musty silence. “The book is here,” Selara said whispering, as if they had entered a shrine and not an old shed. The incense of worn leather and drying herbs filled the air. She tapped the not-so-secret wooden drawer and it slid open. Selara thoughtfully ran her fingers over the ornate spiral designs on its cover. She carefully lifted the book from its hiding place and sat cross-legged on the dusty floor. Bird flew down beside her.
Selara opened the book to a seemingly random page and peered at the strange words. She ran her index finger along the lines of colourful script and smiled conspiratorially at Bird. “Do you hear them?” Bird was eyeing a nearby cricket oblivious to what she was saying to him. “The words say we can fly. I want to fly just like you!” she said clapping her hands together excitedly. Selara stood up and placed the bird on her shoulder. She ran her fingers along the rows of incantations and spoke them as they spoke to her in her mind. Nothing is happening, she thought to herself frustrated. She held the book in one hand and flapped her arms like wings repeating the words she had heard in her mind. Without warning, the walls around her started to melt and the whole world spun. Selara, the book, and the bird were gone leaving only her footprints on the dusty floor.
She was now standing in an open meadow ten years in the past. Selara’s hair fluttered like red banners in the dry wind. Bird was a small inky spot in a patchwork of green and gold; sitting perched on Selara’s shoulder in a state of shock. The air was chorusing crickets and bird song. “Where the firk are we?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Then suddenly remembering that she was not supposed to use that ‘word’ anymore. Grandmother’s rule: no cursing. The little black bird let out a worried croaking sound in response to her question. She spun around. The two were in the center of a meadow under blue summer skies. Selara scanned the far edges of the waving grass and the rolling mountains beyond. The two stood in silence.
Gradually their silence was interrupted. From the far end of the field, a growing wave of voices, grunts, and guttural screams were advancing. Bird flapped his wings in alarm. It was as if every tree in the distant forest had found a voice. There was the metallic sound of clanging armour punctuated by dull marching. Eruptions of green fire exploded like thunder. As if in response to this noise and chaos, the opposite side of the field erupted in an opposing army of voices and sounds. Sheets of orange flame shot out in streaks blackening trees. Small fires licked the grass.
Selara froze in icy panic. She stood like a statue as dark shapes advanced onto the meadow from both sides. Horrible half-human monsters sniffed the air and began lumbering towards her. From the opposite side of the field, strangers seemed to waver and appear somewhere else. In the confusion, a shadow fell abruptly over the paralyzed Selara. Massive claws swung awkwardly at the tiny target. Selara screamed in shock and pain; a thin red streak growing slowly on her cheek. Her grandfather’s book fell from her hands; Bird fluttered instinctively, avoiding the second blow. Stop!” She screamed. “You’re being a bully!” fear was replaced with anger rising quickly inside her.
The grass around her withered into an oily black sludge and thick smoke formed a swirling curtain blinding the threatening behemoth. Two tongues of fire exploded from the blackened ground encircling Selara and the frightened bird in a weaving of green and orange fire. A low hum sang in the air growing steadily louder. Perched at the end of each fiery tongue was the head of a sparkling serpent with tongues of fire; each glistening body writhing in the thickening smoke. Twin fiery snakes oriented menacingly on the confused creature. Selara stood up, Bird gripping her shoulder, her entire body glowing, her mouth forming a silent incantation. Then the green serpent moved like lightening. Searing fangs bit into the monstrous face tearing and burning through grey flesh like paper. Its orange serpentine twin working in concert, burning legs to the bone; a deadly tornado leaving black ash blowing; feathers in the summer wind.
The surrounding armies ran in opposite directions, shouting. Two opposing leaders stood in shocked disbelief as the green and orange fire serpents entwined triumphantly around the panicking girl. They surveyed the meadow, challenging anyone or anything to defy them. The girl bent down, picked up the book, shimmered and vanished as if she were never there; leaving a silent, shocked battlefield. The impact of what was seen sent both armies into disarray. Not because of the girl, or the serpents, but both serpents working together for a common purpose – to protect the girl at all costs.
The disorganized and dispirited armies scattered while a dark sinister woman watched intently. Her face was twisted with disgust. Firk! What should have been an easy victory was snatched away by a wizard’s trick, she thought to herself. Elemental and Dark Majik do not exist together. Everyone knew it. She turned her head just in time to catch a quick movement behind her. She teleported at the last second to avoid the blow and never reappeared.
Ten years later, Selara landed hard onto the floor of the shed still clutching her grandfather’s book. She was breathing hard and crying. Warm salty tears mixed with blood traced their way down her cheek. The door swung open. Grandfather’s boots shuffled into the room. “What happened?” asked Grandfather, the colour draining from his face as he spotted the bleeding scratch on Selara’s face along with his book of spells spread out upside down beside her. The frightened Bird fluttered up escaping through the open door.
Selara looked into her grandfather’s eyes. “There were monsters and one was being a bully and I got hurt,” sobbed Selara, wrapping her arms tightly around her Grandfather’s neck as he crouched down beside her. Grandfather tightened his grip.
“You were very brave – and Bird too!” Grandfather said, picking the book up off the floor and holding it away from Selara as if it would burn her.
“Big fire serpents came to save me!” blurted Selara. “I was so mad at that bully monster. My big snakes ate it though. All the bad things ran away.”
What she was saying was unbelievable. No one had taught her how to read the old language. Even more astonishing was her using that incantation without the use of a time talisman to find her way back. Then Grandfather thought of the serpents.
“Tell me about the serpents?” he asked, tilting his head. You said there were two serpents. Two, are you sure?” he repeated.
“Yes, and one was pretty green. He was my favourite. I think I’ll name him Greenwald.” The other was orange like our campfires. I haven’t thought of a name for him yet. Grandfather felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He seemed confused and stared off into the corner of the shed. “Two serpents,” he said absently. Not only had Selara teleported back in time, but she had unknowingly conjured up two fire serpents. By the colour of their fire he knew that one was Elemental, but the other one was far more disturbing. It had to be the product of Dark Majik.
“Are you okay?” Selara asked.
“Two,” repeated grandfather as if in a daze not listening.
“Yes, they wrapped around us and kept us safe. The bully monster died and died.”
Grandfather shook himself out of his revere. “You must never use this book again or speak to anyone about what happened to you. Do you understand me?” he said firmly, his face was grave. Selara wasn’t used to seeing her grandfather this upset. She nodded seeing the deep concern in her grandfather’s eyes. “Let’s get you to Grandmother to put salve on your cut.” He took the book and slid it into his vest pocket. He scooped up Selara protectively and brought her into the house.
* * *
Ten years into the past, sheltered under the boughs of massive evergreens, bonfires lit the faces of men in celebration. The wizards had enacted their revenge on the Dark Queen. “Is there still a chance she can free herself?” asked Chalon concerned.
“No, only if the source of her prison is revealed. And none of us can ever speak of it, or even take credit for what we’ve done. Her disappearance must remain a mystery. There are still those loyal to her, and if they knew how we trapped her, they may try to free her. No one would suspect a simple locomotion spell could trap such a powerful adversary,” said Parseth.
“It was inspired!” said Theseus.
“And you had no other choice! She enacted the impervious spell,” insisted Clovis, his dark eyes sparkling.
“Yes, but at what cost?” added Chalon shaking his head.
“That’s between her and gods,” remarked Parseth shaking his head. “Why anyone would endanger their soul simply to possess earthly power. She is mad.” The men agreed.
“Immortality,” maybe added Cay wistfully. “But who would want to live forever – it’s unnatural?” The men nodded.
“Your teleportation idea was a work of genius,” said Clovis raising a mug of mead to Parseth. The other men agreed doing likewise.
“You timed it perfectly knowing exactly what she would do!” Theseus interjected.
“But what of the girl? Was she a sign from the gods?” asked Cay changing the subject.
“More like ‘what’ was she?” added Chalon. “The soldiers on both sides are calling her the Princess of Peace signaling for an end to the war! Was this ‘Princess’ an illusion, or was she real? And how did the illusion vaporize a Manolith? He wondered to himself.
“The Queen was as confused as all of us!” laughed Parseth. “If she was from the gods then the gods had perfect timing. The Queen needed to be caught by surprise. Our threat needed to be enough to force her into enacting the teleportation spell so we could fold it into itself.”
“The girl was definitely an Elemental. But why could she conjure up a Dark Majik serpent at the same time as the Elemental serpent? And she couldn’t have been older than seven moons. Much too young to summon or control Majik creatures. And why did the Night Bird just sit there on her shoulder without biting her?” asked Parseth.
“Okay, you’ve had your jest! Which one of you conjured that illusion? It was amazing! Own up! I want to congratulate you personally.” There was complete silence in the group, while everyone looked at everyone else. “If none of you created the illusion, then maybe she truly was a sign from the gods.” “To the miracle at Albright!” he shouted raising his glass.
“To the miracle at Albright!” they intoned.
“And to the Princess of Peace!” he added.
“To the Princess of Peace!”
* * *
Ten years later, not far from the original wizard encampment, Selara and her grandfather entered their little cottage. Grandmother eyed them carefully and assessed the cut on Selara’s cheek. “It was that Night Bird wasn’t it? They’re wild and dangerous,” Grandmother’s voice trailed off when she saw the look of concern in Grandfather’s eyes. “It wasn’t the Night Bird was it?”
“No” replied Grandfather. The two fell silent. Selara also kept silent, sworn to secrecy by her grandfather.
Selara’s grandfather was a man who seemed to betray his age. He was slightly hunched with the weight of many hardships, yet he always seemed to have a never-ending zest for life. Once a week Grandfather would walk around the farm sprinkling white powder in a huge circle around the buildings on their property. Grandfather had told Selara it was for luck and good fortune. He would hum some silly words and wink at his granddaughter. She would laugh at her Grandfather’s game. She would find out later it was much more than a game.
It was happening thought Grandmother, and so young! Daemon was right. She will be the most dangerous one of them all. She will either re-build everything that was destroyed, or end everything as if it never was.
The next morning Selara woke up unfazed by her strange adventure the afternoon before. She hopped out of bed and peered out the window. The morning mist was just beginning to rise on the moor, forming ghostly shapes dancing for the rising sun. Selara dressed herself and padded down the stairs to the smells of Grandmother’s cooking. Grandfather was already at the table finishing his porridge when Selara bounced across the floor to give him a huge hug. She grabbed onto Grandmother’s legs, paused, and scampered to the table to join Grandfather. When Grandfather turned to speak to Grandmother, Selara deftly snatched a bun from the breakfast table and slipped it under her apron. Grandfather smiled at Selara’s supposedly secret ritual knowing she was sharing her bread with the little Night Bird. A small smile crept onto Grandmother’s face as well but left quickly.
It was a month ago when Selara had reached up onto that very table and accidentally tipped spilled a pot of boiling soup. The soup had splashed onto Selara’s leg. Shock turned to pain, then to hurt, and then to anger. When Grandmother had returned to the kitchen, the offending pot was a molten puddle spilling out onto the floor mingled with the blackened soup. Selara had run to her, bursting into tears and told her through sobs that it was not her fault. It was the green serpent that had come out of her. Grandmother remembers holding her close, tending to her blisters, and when the metal cooled, the two cleaned up the mess before Grandfather came home. When Selara was calm, she told her that the serpent was just in her imagination and that the pot was old and sometimes they melted. That was when Grandmother became determined to teach Selara her first rule: Never get mad and lose control!
Dishes clattered in the washing sink as Selara disappeared into the morning mist in search of Bird. “That girl is special,” said Grandfather; his eyes following the shock of red hair through the window, bobbing into the mist.
“She is also dangerous,” replied Grandmother seriously, still focused on her dishes reliving the memory of the melted pot. Grandfather sighed. He had to admit, even at her young age, tiny hints of what she will become were beginning to reveal themselves. He did not share everything he knew about Selara’s misadventure with his book of spells. She had teleported into the past without training or guidance. She should not have been able to read the words in the book, let alone activate that dangerous incantation. There were forces working around this child that were beyond his comprehension. She was indeed dangerous, but she was also their only hope in a distant future.
Selara trotted by the fence, banging the fence posts with a stick. “Good morning pigs! Good morning, horse! Good morning, cows! Good morning . . .” Selara remembered that there were no more chickens. No matter what Grandfather did, or no matter what kind of chicken house he made, the Night Birds always seemed to find a way to steal them and eat them. Grandfather told her that he was not upset because the chickens became an offering to the Gods so they would not pass judgement upon them. Grandfather had dropped to one knee and made a strange sign. He told her it was the ‘Sign of the Holy Night Bird.’ Selara remembered hearing Grandmother scolding Grandfather about the ‘sign’ telling him not to teach his granddaughter superstitious nonsense.
Selara passed by the pigpen briefly holding her nose and weaving her way down pathways, over roots, around mud puddles, and towards the tall twisted tree; its dry branches frozen against the morning sky. Selara decided to name it ‘bully hand’ because it reminded her of the big bully’s hand that scratched her from ‘battle-world.’ She startled a deer that bounded away into the forest. That was when Selara felt an invisible thing tugging at her hair.
She spun around. Whatever had a hold of her hair was now hiding behind her. She spun around again just in time to catch a glimpse of a black feather. “Bird,” she shouted, half annoyed but at the same time glad to see him. “If you don’t let me go, you’re not going to get your surprise!” Bird let go immediately as if he understood, hoping the surprise would be food. Selara pulled the bun from her apron and slumped down in the grass against a yawning tree. Bird hopped onto her shoulder and Selara broke off pieces to feed herself and Bird. His beak nipped her finger. “Careful!” she scolded, “Grandmother says you can snap sticks with that firkin’ beak of yours!” Selara liked the feeling of using the ‘forbidden word’ as she said it. She had heard Grandfather say it when he nicked himself with an axe. He had tried in vain to make her forget it but it could not be unheard. Selara experimented with different versions of the word for ‘emphasis.’
Bird nodded sagely, never knowing exactly what the little girl ever said to him. He watched her body movements and listened carefully to the tone of her voice. Bird knew when she was happy, sad, or mad. Beyond that, her words were just a pleasant song that he could not understand.
* * *
Further to the East, gnarled trees stood like grey shadows against the morning sky. Wrapped around the fingers of the twisted trees were large wooden baskets woven from thin branches, leaves, or bits of discarded rope. Each Night Bird family had a dwelling of its own, passed on from generation to generation. The dwellings of esteemed birds were massive and complex, woven with decorative patterns. They were adorned with simple pictograms like tapestries honouring historical moments in the history of the Clans. Sweeping braided branches framed these homes like a sea of basket waves meandering through the forest. The morning sun cast blue shadows. Basket mouths, greeted the new day.
In one such dwelling, the parents of ‘Bird’ were upset. “He’s spending too much time with that Hu-man! He should be spending his days with his own kind!” Terra turned from her perch and nodded absently to her husband. “The council rules are there for a reason,” he droned on. “They are hundreds of years old, and established by the founding elders themselves.” Flank paced back and forth agitated; peering uncertainly through the looking holes. Their massive globular home was perched high in an old oak tree woven tightly into its branches. “When is she getting here?” asked Flank impatiently.
“I told her when the sun is high,” replied Terra. Flank was nervous. The elder bird Ceeka was both revered and feared by those in the Night Bird Clan. She was ancient and imposing. She could gaze into a bird’s soul and know what they were thinking. Flank shuddered reflexively.
“Why did you have to call on her? We could have handled things ourselves!” complained Flank.
“We weren’t handling it ourselves. Complaining isn’t handling it ourselves. That’s why I called her. We need to address this before things get out of hand and the rumors begin.” At that very moment there was a fluttering of wings and a large ruffled old bird appeared at the door opening. “Come in please,” offered Terra.
Ceeka had an aura about her. Her imposing presence suddenly filled their home and Flank stopped pacing and stood perfectly still focussed only on her. “We’re having trouble with Fletcher,” began Terra. “No matter what we say or do, he won’t stop visiting the Hu-man girl.” Ceeka listened without speaking. “And what’s worse,” she added. “She’s some sort of Elemental!” Terra shuddered. “Flank has seen the Majik waver around her.”
Flank chimed in. “We are afraid of what other birds will say, and what will happen if this problem reaches the Elder Circle.” Ceeka continued to listen, weighing each word carefully. Ceeka was silent for a time. Then she spoke.
“The rules were created to keep us all safe. Is this true?” she asked with an air of authority.
“Of course,” said Terra and Flank together.
“Has the Hu-man girl harmed Fletcher in any way?”
“No,” replied Flank.
“Has Fletcher bonded with her?” asked Ceeka.
“Heavens no!” replied Terra, gasping and shaking her head in disgust.
“But something must be done!” insisted Flank.
“Why?” asked Ceeka. There was perplexed silence. Flank and Terra looked at Ceeka as if she was crazy.
“Because of the rumours and the breaking of rules,” Flank blurted out exasperated. Ceeka turned and stared out of the looking hole in silence. Flank and Terra waited patiently for her to speak.
“I will go and watch these two myself. And then I will decide what needs to be done.” At this, the elder bird turned and sprang out into the open air. Flank gazed out of the looking hole concerned.
The morning air rushed by as Ceeka expertly rode up and down on the invisible currents. Other birds gave her a wide berth out of fear and respect as she flew beyond the Clan territories and over the muddy washes of the moors. She had no trouble finding them. The little Elemental’s Majik aura was easy to see even from high in the clouds. Ceeka descended slowly, perching among the groaning branches of a blackened tree.
Her watchful eyes studied Bird and Selara just out of sight. Her feathers ruffled slightly in the wind. Her gnarled talons tethered her firmly to a thickened branch. She had lived for many seasons and through many troubled times, yet her mind was as clear as a silent pool and sharp as the thin point of a claw. She had insights and instincts that the rest of the Clan could not fathom. The Night Birds are divided, she thought to herself. The world is changing and our leaders are too proud, stubborn, or too frightened to embrace it.
The wind whistled behind her. When creatures refuse to change and grow, the world leaves them behind and they become a distant memory. Our Clan avoid Hu-mans but there will come a time when Hu-mans and Night Birds will bond and work together. Dark Majik has brought fear and mistrust but this will change. These two are the spring for a new world. But will any of us have the chance to see it?
Ceeka watched the Elemental girl carefully. There is something strange about her aura, she thought to herself. It was brighter than any Elemental Hu-man she had ever seen before. She could see a queer fluctuation. Her aura was neither Dark nor Elemental, it was somewhere in between. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but then there was that flicker again. Ceeka realized what was happening to this little Hu-man was impossible.
* * *
In a temple prison between two worlds, stars spun in a never-ending green mist. A stone monolith surrounded by walls with stone benches faded in and out of the swirling fog. A tall figure paced endlessly. The Dark Queen reflected in her emerald purgatory. Sometimes in the stone window, she could see Selara perfectly and sometimes she was hidden from her. At this moment, she could see her playing her little games with that blasted Night Bird.
She thought back to the day she was imprisoned here. Wizards! She spat! They knew I couldn’t be killed like any Nomaji. I’d seen to that. But the price was worth the pain. She stretched out her left hand with the missing ring finger. Some spells required sacrifice, she thought to herself dispassionately. Losing concentration for only a moment gave them just enough time to trick me exile me to this green hell. Now I have to wait agonizing minute after minute and hour after hour waiting for this little brat to come of age so I can inhabit her body and reclaim the life that was snatched from me.
The Dark Queen felt no guilt or remorse for what she planned to do. After all, the unexpected appearance of the little girl at the center of the battlefield was what distracted her long enough for the wizards to spring their trap in the first place. When freedom is once again mine, I will kill every wizard I find . . . slowly, she promised herself. Her eyes gleamed and the thoughts of revenge warmed her for the moment. Then she shuddered.
Death would have been better. Imprisonment in this green purgatory with no need to eat, or sleep, was maddening. Her spell had made her body impervious to normal physical damage but it did not protect her sanity. At least in the Second Realm she could move on with her journey. Here I’m trapped, doomed to watch the world but to never be a part of it.
Fortunately the Wizards made a mistake, she chuckled mirthlessly to herself. The Majik that imprisoned me here tethered me to that little girl. The distraction. It was surprising that the wizards would compromise their morals. Imagine them using an innocent as a distraction. They didn’t realize that their ‘distraction’ secured a doorway back into the kingdom. When her earthly body is ready for me to inhabit, our spiritual essence shall switch places and then she can watch as I have watched her year after cursed year. The Queen raised her hands above her head. A bright green ball grew, expanded and spun. The fireball rose up and exploded into the swirling stars. It was instantly consumed to no effect. She slumped back onto the stone bench and gazed through the window at Selara.
* * *
Ceeka watched the two youngsters patiently. They played hide and seek and chasing games. Sometimes they would just sit; Fletcher perched on the girl’s shoulder or in her lap. They were two innocents whose spirits had found each other. Ceeka sensed a deep caring between them, and knew that the little girl would never harm Fletcher. She was about to return to the Clan Village when she saw a dark shape moving ominously towards the two.
From her vantage point she could see the bird and the girl were oblivious to an approaching danger. A large Valerian boar was digging roots nearby and was moving in the direction of Fletcher and Selara. Normally these deadly brutes were not found in these meadows, but this one had wandered. Ceeka was not concerned for Fletcher because he would fly up the second he sensed danger, but the little Elemental couldn’t fly. She would most likely be killed. Although her aura was bright, she was much too young to use or to control her powers. Most Night Birds would be unconcerned, taking advantage of the fresh meat after the kill. To the average Night Bird, flesh was flesh. But Ceeka had grown in spirit far beyond animal instinct.
Selara and Bird were sharing their last piece of bread when they heard a faint rustling in the grass. Both of them stopped to listen. “What’s that smell?” she asked, scrunching up her nose. Bird bobbed his head concerned. Selara held her nose and looked around. She wondered if one of Grandfather’s pigs had escaped. Directly in front of her something snorted and a nightmare of matted fur and bone tusks exploded through the grass running headlong towards her. Selara screamed as the enormous hulk advanced on the two of them. Bird bravely placed himself between the barreling animal and Selara. But even a fully-grown Night Bird would be no match for a boar of this size. Bird was dwarfed by this behemoth. He was acting more out of love for his companion then out of any real chance of actually defending her.
Without warning, a dark shadow descended upon the creature tearing into its eyes with razor sharp claws. The beast was momentarily startled by the unexpected attack. It shook its massive head. Its eyes burned as sharp talons pierced into them. The boar heaved upwards to gore blindly at the descending intruder with wild stabbing thrusts, while Fletcher twisted and dodged at the last possible moment. The mysterious attacker was undaunted and continued to slash at the eyes of the Boar. Selara stood frozen with fear as the animal stabbed at the bird and then lunging blindly, reorienting on Selara’s scent. The boar unexpectedly raised its head and Ceeka felt a fiery tusk tear through her body, sending her spinning and crashing to the ground.
As Ceeka lay dying, the life draining from her torn side, she watched in awe as two sparkling fire serpents rose up from the ground. They gracefully wrapped themselves around the little Hu-man. They were majestic and beautiful. They explained the strange fluctuation in the little girl’s aura.
The floundering, blinded boar was no match for the massive fire serpents. They attacked the beast in unison, reducing the creature to charred, smoking remains. The serpents vanished together leaving only an oily curtain of grey smoke. Selara was in shock, but rushed forward without thinking to crouch down beside her wounded heroin. Bird waddled up beside her, tilting his head and bobbing with concern.
Suddenly a voice was speaking inside Selara’s head. Strange thoughts of flying filled her mind. The dying bird seemed to be listening to her thoughts simultaneously. The bird began to speak in a gentle reassuring voice. The voice said: “You are a child born of two rivers. You have a deep love in your heart for the whole world; even for me, a wild stranger. Take your love into our world and heal it. This is why you were born, and I am proud to die here to protect you.” With these words, Ceeka stopped speaking and thinking in her head, and lay very still.
Selara did not understand what the old ladybird meant, and it was strange to see herself through another creature’s eyes if only for a few moments. She didn’t understand about rivers or healing the world. Bird flapped uncertainly beside Selara then leapt up, rising into the air in the direction of the Clan trees. Selara looked helplessly at the beautiful old bird and tears ran down her cheeks. For a brief moment she and the gentle bird had shared their thoughts. Selara had never been to a funeral or seen anyone die, so she didn’t really know what to do. She searched for a few wild flowers for the old ladybird to thank her for trying to protect her. She could still hear her soft voice in her thoughts and they filled her with a sense of calm. Selara trotted off into the marshy grass and collected bright lady-slippers and daisies. She arranged them around the motionless bird. She wove some of the daisies together to make a small crown and placed it on the old ladybird’s head. There, she thought to herself.
By the time Selara had finished her circle of flowers, there were ten Night Birds led by her little friend, flying in formation just below the clouds gliding towards her like a massive black dagger. Their wings blocked out the sun as they descended into the small clearing. Selara backed away slowly from the body of the old ladybird and stood at a distance, fidgeting uncertainly not knowing whether to stay or run. She had never been this close to so many fully-grown Night Birds. She was frightened. With a rush of wind, the birds landed together, cocking their heads curiously at the ring of flowers, the daisy crown, and the smouldering remains of the large marsh boar. Their black shining beaks clicked and let out a series of broken croaks and chitters.
The lead bird turned his head and looked at Selara with what could only be interpreted as a kind of respect and understanding in his eyes. Three of the birds approached the fallen hero and locked talons, lifting the lifeless body of Ceeka into the air leaving only Selara’s ring of flowers. The formation moved as one and grew smaller and smaller as they rose into the open skies back to the territory of the Clan Birds. The remaining birds unceremoniously gorged themselves on what was left of the boar while Selara hurried down the path not wanting to watch.
She was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. This strange bird had come out of nowhere to save her and she felt sad that she had died. Selara plunked herself down like a rag doll. She thought about the monstrous boar. It had scared her and would have hurt her badly, but she was still sad that it had to die. She thought about the serpents that had come out of the ground. They were made of fire but they didn’t burn her. Her serpents were so big compared to Grandfather’s little fire serpents. This was the second time they had come to her rescue. She wanted to see them again and thank them for saving her. Especially Greenwald, she thought. Selara concentrated. She imagined herself dropping the talking book. She thought about how frightened she was, but no matter how hard she tried, her serpents wouldn’t come out and visit her.
Selara padded along the willow path thinking. The swallows darted and swooped ahead of her to a chorus of crickets. The sun was well up in the sky and gently warmed Selara’s cheek. She felt free here, coming and going as she pleased. If she shared with her grandparents what had happened today, everything might change, she thought to herself. Grandmother had so many rules, and she did not want her to add any more. Her grandparents may even keep her from seeing Bird. She decided that her dangerous adventure would have to remain a secret. Selara’s rule: Don’t tell Grandmother anything that might give her a reason to make more rules.
* * *
The solemn formation cut its way through the drifting clouds passing over the gapping mouths of the Clan homes. They touched down in the Elder Circle gently releasing the body of Ceeka. There was a series of short shrieks and croaks as several Night Birds poked their heads out of their looking holes to see what was happening. Terra and Flank glanced at each other in shock having just spoken with Ceeka that afternoon. Was Fletcher safe? Worried Terra.
They watched quietly from their dwellings as the Night Birds dispersed and the body of Ceeka was laid out in state. The Clan leaders would need to investigate and make funeral arrangements. Fletcher had flown as quickly as he could to alert the Clan warriors that Ceeka had died fighting a boar to save himself and his friend.
There was a hush as Glider hopped to the center of the massive woven circle to address the Clan. “Ceeka has always been a wise advisor and a respected bird!” said Glider loudly to the sea of eyes staring down at him. “But in the end, she must have lost her mind, for why would she risk her life to save a Hu-man?” There were squawks and chitters of agreement scattered amongst the group. “Today, we have lost an important member of our Clan! The rites of passage will begin at sunrise!” Glider looked down at the little daisy crown which had miraculously remained on Ceeka’s head. He added. “And take that thing off of her.”
One of the warrior birds stepped forward. “No,” he said challengingly. “The Hu-man female has shown respect. Ceeka shall wear this token with honour for her sacrifice.” Glider stomped off grumbling. The daisy crown would remain. Three elder birds approached the body solemnly. They placed themselves around the body, and began a slow droning dirge forming long sympathetic vibrations unlike the normal croaks and chitters of Night Bird language. Some birds joined in and soon the Clan forest was filled with a sad dirge like droning windpipes rising up from the forest into an ocean of sky.
Fletcher flew up and perched by the looking hole of his home. His father Flank had gone down to join the birds near the inner circle. Terra spoke softly to him. “You mustn’t tell anyone about the bonding or the Hu-man’s fire serpents. Do you understand?” Fletcher bobbed his head. “You told me you’ve seen these serpents before?”
“Yes mother, when Girl is in danger they come,” replied Fletcher.
Terra leaned in close and whispered, “Did the fire snakes ever threaten you? Did you feel that you were in danger from them?”
“No mother. They protect Girl and then they disappear. They burned the ditch pig until it died and then they left,” explained Fletcher, savoring the memory of the delicious smell of fresh meat.
Terra moved in closer and whispered to Fletcher. “And you say she was speaking to Ceeka? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Girl was listening to Ceeka speaking without sounds,” explained Fletcher earnestly.
Terra nodded gravely. Ceeka’s last act was to bond with the little Hu-man; but why? She knew that Fletcher was not in any danger because he could have escaped easily. For some reason, Ceeka had felt that protecting Girl was important. Ceeka did not lose her mind. She must have had a good reason for keeping this Hu-man alive.
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