Awakening into Dreams: Part II of the Fabula Fereganae Cycle

Chapter VII: Road to War

  Several Days earlier…

  The ship carrying Ifaut Mafouras and the Kalkic human Sansonis had fallen to the sea in pieces, while the one pursuing the Fieretsi Stefi disappeared in an instant. And a broken Shizai had sunk beneath the sea. Pheia’s day was not going well.

  “Now what?” Pheia whispered to the dark stone in her hand. Now what, indeed. Standing stranded and alone in the midst of the humans’ capital of Sol-Acrima, there wasn’t a Furosan in all of Feregana who would have envied her situation. No Shizai left to help, too many humans to fight through, and now the whole military might of Sol-Acrima on edge after the Fieretka’s bid to rescue Fairun. So she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.

  She ran openly through the streets, slipping by people more concerned with the fire and excitement than a running figure. Even those who did notice that a Furosan was running through their midst barely gave a shout before turning their attention back over the sea or towards the smoldering airship still lying wrecked on the nearby hills.

  She skidded around a corner, recognizing the street as the same one down which she’d come earlier, and knew she was nearing the city gates. In a moment the walls came into sight, and with them the gates. The looming iron and wood was shut fast.

  “No getting out that way,” she muttered and ducked behind a building as two lightly armored soldiers jogged past. She watched curiously as they signaled a watchman high on the walls, who in turn opened the gates just enough for them to slip through. No doubt on their way to the wrecked airship, she thought. If only she could do the same to help Sansonis and Princess Ifaut.

  But she had little time to ponder the fate of the Kalkic human and Furosan, because the gate opened once more and a dirty rider on an equally ragged horse rode through. Both of them were covered in dust. Even from where she stood she recognized the emblem attached to his chest–she had killed several men bearing the same mark: a winged horse before a rising sun–as that borne by riders of Sol-Acrima’s messenger service. Rumor held they could deliver a message from the eastern shores of Acharn to Sol-Acrima in a matter of days with their network of stations, horses, and trained birds. All that slowed them was the sea.

  She padded softly to within earshot, keeping hidden behind whatever she could find as she did so.

  “Tomorrow?” one of the men standing guard at the gate shouted. “Tomorrow? In case you can’t tell we’ve just had a bloody Furosan terrorist attack! Some state that leaves Sol-Acrima in for His return!”

  “I can see there have been problems,” the messenger said, “but I merely bring the news. Karick IV has finished the Acharnian campaign sooner than we could have anticipated.”

  Pheia gasped. That name! The same one who had brought war to Ariga? But why return to Acharn? They already had Fairun…

  “At any rate,” the messenger continued, “I bring orders that the capital must be placed into lock-down until such a time as it is cleared by Karick IV. No one is to leave. Is that clear enough?”

  “Very. But how does He know what happened already? Even you lot with your horses aren’t fast enough for that.”

  “He has His ways.”

  Pheia’s heart sank. No way out, not even for humans. And yet she had almost expected such a situation and cursed herself for thinking it would be so easy. For now, she thought, she’d just lie low until night. She had come this far on her father’s dying orders, even staring down death itself, but the Fieretka were gone with no way to follow. All that was left was to return home a failure.

  She found an old warehouse not too far from the gates and, after building an uncomfortable bed of old sacks, fell asleep while staring into the dark, hollow depths of Shizai’s stone.

  “Where are you taking us?” the exhausted Furosan asked Shizai, all the while clinging to the Kalkic human who looked so much like Yifunis’s lover. Such bitter memories, the elemental thought. And history repeating because of her…

  Near what remains of Minhera.

  “Why?” Ifaut said. “Why don’t you follow Stefi and Cédes? Don’t take us to some dead island!”

  The Fieretsi is safe for now, Shizai said. You two, meanwhile, are needed elsewhere.

  “Do you mind telling us why?” Ifaut asked, anger rising in her voice. “What Sansonis needs is rest. Not that you’d understand anything about what little mortals like us need.”

  Princess, Shizai sighed, there are things bigger than you and the Kalkic. She still couldn’t summon the will to speak his name.

  “Yeah? Not for me.”

  Please understand that I am unable to empathize, as without a soul I cannot feel true love like you.

  If Ifaut was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “Go on, then.”

  Do not speak of what I am about to say to the Kalkic.

  “What, are you threatening me now?”

  No, of course not. I may not feel love, she thought, but sadness, that’s a different story…

  “I can’t promise you that. But do tell.”

  What do you know of your genealogy?

  “I’m wearing a skirt.”

  Shizai sighed. Your heritage, descent, lineage. From where you come.

  “I’m Mafouran, my daddy is, his daddy was, and so on. What’s with the weird question all of a sudden?”

  Further back still. Do you know?

  “Mafouran, I guess,” she said and screwed up her face in concentration. “My last name’s Mafouras after all; it means I’m part of Mafouras’s ancestral family. Even you should know that. Or is history not your strong point either?”

  Think, princess. How is the name passed on?

  Ifaut scowled. “I bet you know I wasn’t very attentive in lessons. Except cooking. But I think it’s through the father.”

  Correct, young Furosan.

  “Don’t call me that, old do-” she replied instinctively, and in a second a very somber mood descended over her.

  Shizai continued, ignoring Ifaut’s remark. Have you ever wondered about your other ancestors? The female side?

  “Not really,” she admitted. “I suppose I just never gave it much thought.”

  You really should sometime. It can be interesting.

  “All right, I’m thinking.” She closed her eyes in concentration and fell silent for so long Shizai thought she had fallen asleep.

  Wake up, she chided.

  “I’m awake,” Ifaut said, still with closed eyes. “I’m trying, but I can’t think of anything!”

  Fine, I’ll just tell you, the elemental said. Your great-grandmother was of direct Minheran descent.

  “Ah!” Ifaut squeaked and at last opened her eyes. “Of course! I wore her old skirt at the festival of Lidae!”

  Good girl.

  “So that means you’re taking me and Sansonis to my ancestors’ home?”

  Yes.

  “Even though it’s sunken? I have to admit I can’t swim too well. I can sink pretty good though. Which is what matters when visiting a sunken island, I suppose.”

  Partially sunken, Shizai said. All that’s left are many little islands, but it is just one I need help with.

  Ifaut started. “Let me guess,” she muttered. “Another favor?”

  Bingo.

  Pheia found herself once more in a startlingly familiar forest. There was the same odd sky, white flowers with no smell, gigantic trees.

  “Dead again?” she asked the still air.

  In an instant a vaguely humanoid light shimmered into existence before her. Its pale light threw cold shadows from her and the trees.

  “Yifunis?” she asked, remembering its name from before.

  Yes.

  “Have I died again?” she asked, almost frustrated with her own carelessness. After all, most people only had the misfortune–or fortune–to die once.

  No, you are merely sleeping. I have brought you here under my own volition. I restored you to the Dream on the condition I call you back once your purpose is complete. Do you remember?


  She nodded reluctantly. ‘So that’s why I’m here,’ she thought.

  Your purpose is not yet complete, Yifunis said, and Pheia let out her pent-up breath. But–Pheia held her breath again–you have failed to join the Final Fieretsi.

  “I saved her, didn’t I?”

  Shizai did.

  “So I failed… and Ifaut Mafouras and her friend are dead too.”

  Dead? Yifunis asked. The Mafouran Furosan and the Kalkic? No, you must be mistaken. I see all who come to the Bridge. They have not.

  “That’s a relief,” she said and let her breath out in a long sigh. “Then what of me? What’s left for me to do?”

  Find Sohei.

  “I-I’d forgotten all about her…” Pheia admitted.

  Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of that which sits foremost in our hearts.

  “So you want me to find her.” It wasn’t a question.

  No. You want to find her.

  “Then why give me life again? I don’t see how this helps you, no disrespect at all.”

  You could say it helps me little, if at all, the light said. But it helps you. And her. Our young ones need all the help they can get, an older sister or brother to look up to. Or even a mother. Her voice began to waver, and a moment later so too did her light.

  Then Pheia awoke to find dusty sunlight streaming onto her face. She sneezed. Morning. Time to go.

  After sneaking through Sol-Acrima’s streets, Pheia managed to acquire enough food that could be called breakfast. It was not stealing, she reminded the nagging voice in her head. What had happened yesterday was an act of war. And when barricaded in enemy territory in the midst of hostilities, one must do anything to survive.

  She returned to the gate, keeping herself hidden, to see a surging crowd of humans, a sea of noise and anger roiling back and forth. So the city was still locked down. And even the humans didn’t like it. She smiled at the thought.

  What few words she could snatch from the heavy air told her that Karick IV would be returning, making port long enough to re-supply before heading towards Alzandia. And even that some of the humans couldn’t care less about wars and fighting if they caused the capital to be shut down.

  Up for a ride?

  Startled, and heart nearly stilled by fright, Pheia spun to see a small ferret sitting behind her. A small, watery ferret.

  “Shizai?”

  Who else?

  A broad smile forced its way across her face, and for a moment she didn’t care if the little ferret was an elemental. She was familiar, a piece of home. And right now she was all the familiarity she had. She stroked the ferret’s neck. “I thought you were dead!”

  Shizai arched her back and closed her eyes. Dead! How I wish! But it is nice to see you again, princess.

  “And you.”

  Shizai waddled out from cover and, leaving damp paw prints in her wake, peered around the corner.

  It seems we have a problem on our hands, the elemental said quietly. And paws.

  “Indeed. I have failed in reaching the Fieretsi, and now I’m stuck here. All I want is to just go home… but with Sohei.”

  I understand, princess. I know how it is to long for home. However, we have more pressing issues at hand… and at paw.

  “Alzandia?”

  Correct. Even I can hear those dimwits out there twittering about Alzandia and Karick IV like a bunch of moronic budgies.

  Pheia heaved a heavy sigh. “Do you need a favor, perchance?”

  Spot on. You are needed in Alzandia, to help the Fieretsi.

  “That’s where she ended up?” Pheia asked as relief flooded into her.

  That’s where she will end up, yes. Cédes, the White Demon, is heeding Guratzu’s call, even if she doesn’t yet know it. She is being called home, perhaps to lift the fog shrouding that place. And that Ifaut, she may be a little dozy but I’ve prodded her towards Makora.

  Pheia laughed with relief. “They’re okay! I didn’t fail after all. Now I can make up for what happened here!”

  Suddenly Shizai’s voice lowered and she turned her watery eyes to Pheia’s. This is war now, princess. War is coming to Alzandia, just as it came to your home and Acharn. And Mafouras will surely be next. Are you ready?

  For a moment Pheia fell silent, and her elated mood soon trickled into the dust. War. She hated it, loathed it. And yet it seemed to be everywhere, dogging her footsteps, killing her people, burning her home, hurting others. “Will we ever be free?” she whispered. “Of war, I mean.”

  Only when we all make the decision to cast it aside, the watery ferret replied. Or when we are all dead. My bets are on the latter.

  “What of the Fieretsi? What of Stefi?”

  One way or another, it all ends with her. Then we can all go Home.

  “Where was home for you?” Pheia missed Shizai’s emphasis on the last word.

  A peaceful little place, ruins even in my time, right by the seaside. We used to go and play in the water, in the deep ponds that were once stone basements. The rubble was fun to play chasing around, too. Lots of fun. Probably now turned to dust, though, along with my friends and family.

  Before Pheia could ask any more questions, the very air seemed to roar and three giant shapes blotted out the sun then disappeared in the direction of the sea and the airship docks above the caldera.

  Come. Our rides are here. Once they’re ready to leave, so are we.

  “To Alzandia?”

  Oh yes, princess. To war. Then Home.

  Several days later…

  In the dead of night, beneath one of the many pines of Alzandia’s surrounding lands, something stirred. Then a light shone, dim and cold like a faded star. A minute later a creature of rusty fur shook the fragrant earth and pine needles from its body and hauled itself to its feet. Sore, yes. Bruised too. But alive. At least in a sense. It tested its legs. All working.

  Rhaka looked about, and in a torrent the memories of the crash rushed back, filling the Otsukuné’s mind with noise and confusion.

  “Stefi!” he shouted, but of course there was no answer. “Sansonis? Cédes? Young Furosan?” Only echoes. Then deathly silence.

  He looked skywards. The stars. Of course! Ever present, they would listen, they would guide.

  “Where is Stefi?” he said as he scanned the constellations and pinpricks of light. “Where is Sansonis?” No answer.

  Then the truth hit him, almost sending him sprawling back onto the blanket of pine needles beneath him. Far from home, it was a different sky with only one constellation the same, Mustela the ferret. The rest, a scattering of lights holding neither meaning nor import.

  But closer to home, Feregana Herself appeared pained to pity a lonely Otsukuné. Her trees, bent and broken, revealed a road of debris. A road to the downed ship. And perhaps Stefi. In reality, a road to war.