‘Good morning.’ Emquin’s perpetually maternal voice filled Ilgrin’s ears. He opened his eyes to find himself situated in a small cave rendered naked by sunlight.
‘We’re alive,’ he rasped groggily, sleep having failed to relieve Ilgrin’s exhaustion. ‘I’m starving.’ He put a hand on his stomach, dismayed by the fact that he hadn’t eaten since the morning before. The morning before . . . could it really have been just yesterday that he’d enjoyed an ordinary meal within the loving confines of a family home? So much had happened. So much was lost. It was a nightmare.
‘Indeed we are.’ Emquin nodded her long head. ‘Few people know this place. I’ve stayed safe hiding here a few times.’
‘Where’s the bird?’
‘Seeol?’
‘That’s right.’ Ilgrin sat up, but failed to do so without cringing at the pain in his shoulder.
‘He’s sleeping down the back.’ Emquin raised her nose toward the shadowy depths of the cave. ‘He was confused by the idea of sleeping at night.’
Ilgrin stood up and examined his shoulder reluctantly. ‘So what’s your story?’
‘What’s yours?’ Emquin evaded the question. ‘What is a silt doing in Sitnic?’
‘I’ll tell if you tell,’ Ilgrin offered, before something glistening caught his eye. ‘What is that?’ He pointed at a small collection of dead insects, lizards, and beetles atop a flat stone.
‘Seeol gathered those.’ Emquin’s thick black lips moved most unnaturally in their replication of human speech. ‘He was certain you’d be hungry.’
Ilgrin wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘I can’t eat that.’
‘I know, dearie,’ the horse said dryly, ‘but we needn’t tell him, must we? The poor little thing spent the whole night collecting those for you.’
‘Of course I won’t tell him.’ Ilgrin absent-mindedly slid fingers over the stubble on his chin. ‘So, forgive me for asking, but it’s more than just a little odd meeting two talking animals in one night.’
‘I’m hardly an animal,’ Emquin said stuffily. ‘I used to be human. I lived in the capitol of Shinteleran, a place far too close to Old World for the good of its inhabitants. I fought in the royal army and expected to die in battle, but a whisp got me first. I was riding my horse one moment and the next I was trapped inside her mind, my human body having become an empty vessel that fell from her back.’
‘That’s horrible,’ Ilgrin murmured.
‘You don’t know the half of it.’ Emquin shuddered. ‘It used to be much worse. When it first happened, I had no control. I was simply stuck, observing through the eyes of my horse, unable to interact with the world around me. But one day, I managed to make her blink. It took years of practise, but eventually I took her over.’
‘So what happened to the horse?’
‘She’s still here with me,’ Emquin said apologetically. ‘She observes the world through my eyes now. I often feel her fear. I wish I could tell her what has happened to us, but her simple mind would never understand.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Ilgrin averted his eyes, horrified by the idea of being paralysed in one’s own body. ‘So how come you can talk? I mean, sure you were once human, but horse lips don’t work that way, right?’
‘I was stumped by that for a long time.’ Emquin gazed out of the cave. ‘Why should I be cursed so deeply only to be left this small relief? As the years passed by it became clear. My ability to speak was the whisp’s final cruel blow. When I asked for help, people locked me away and sold me for ridiculous prices. They forced me to perform in circuses and traveling shows. In the end, I learnt to keep my mouth shut.’
‘How did you wind up in the field where we met?’
Emquin frowned. ‘I realised my only hope in becoming human was with the Elglair. At home, we hear such fanciful stories about the people of the Frozen Lands. I’m sure most of them can’t be true, but it’s the only hope I’ve got. I left Nobell to go north, but a horse without a rider doesn’t make it very far. I’ve been captured and escaped on many occasions, but this most recent one was especially tricky. I was stuck in that field for at least a year.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Ilgrin sighed. ‘People can be awful.’
‘What about you?’
‘My story isn’t nearly as interesting.’ Ilgrin shrugged. ‘My father heard a strange noise one night. When he went to investigate, he found my birth mother outside with a silver-tipped arrow through her heart. Her arms were locked around a baby silt. And that was me.’
‘You can’t have been raised in Abnatol,’ Emquin said in astonishment.
‘Believe it or not,’ Ilgrin grumbled.
‘Abnatians are kind people.’ Emquin nodded. ‘But even if someone had taken you in, how could they have possibly kept you secret for so long?’
‘We have . . . we had a farm.’ Ilgrin felt a wave of emotion as he remembered his family: building a tree-house together, hanging a swing in the tree, learning to ride his first horse. ‘It wasn’t always fun, but there was plenty of room to hide--until recently, anyway.’
‘So you’ve never been to Old World?’ Emquin asked uneasily.
‘I’ve never seen another silt.’
‘May Maker be so merciful as to keep it that way,’ Emquin said emphatically. ‘Their world is a confusing one. Any morals they might’ve once had were long ago utterly corrupted. They can’t tell right from wrong anymore.’
‘I refuse to believe that they’re all the same.’
‘It’s not that they’re evil.’ Emquin frowned. ‘It’s worse--they’re selfish. When someone dies, they resurrect them, then when the whisp floats off to kill someone else, they get resurrected, too. This goes on and on until at last the whisp finds a human to prey upon. We can’t resurrect our dead,’ the horse finished in an accusatory tone.
‘I’m going to find something to eat,’ Ilgrin murmured uncomfortably. He picked up the insect-covered stone and exited the cave.
He didn’t know what to make of Emquin. It was easy to criticise, but she didn’t know what it felt like to live with the option of raising the dead. When Ilgrin had found his parents’ bodies, he would’ve resurrected them had he been allowed the chance to do so. Not for selfish reasons, but for selfless ones. In that moment of devastation, no one was so cold. Ilgrin had never known pain like that which he felt on finding his parents as they were. He wanted nothing more than to bring them back so that they could live the long and happy lives that they deserved. In that moment, all he could do was see death and know he had the power to reverse it.
Resurrection was more complicated than Emquin insinuated.
Ilgrin dug a small pit in the earth, emptied into it Seeol’s collection of dead things and covered them with dirt. He rolled his neck and eyed the trees in search for anything recognisably edible, but found nothing.
‘There’s a stream down that way,’ Emquin said after exiting the cave and nodding downhill. ‘There’s a collection of plants covered in blackberries this time of year.’ She eyed Ilgrin and for a moment he thought he detected a look of disapproval. ‘You might like to wash while you’re down there.’
‘Thanks,’ Ilgrin replied, realising then that his shirt was stained blue with blood.
When Ilgrin found the stream he threw himself in fully clad. The water was freezing and bit into his shoulder relentlessly, but he ignored the pain and greedily drank the refreshing liquid. Taking off his shirt painlessly proved to be challenging, but after some wriggling about Ilgrin was able remove it for scrubbing in the water. Most of the staining came out, but in some places the garment remained tinted.
Mud squelched up between Ilgrin’s toes as he made his way onto the bank where he hung his shirt over a branch to dry. He found himself surrounded by the plants Emquin had spoken of and began picking handfuls of berries to feed his ravenous hunger.
After about half an hour in the morning sun, Ilgrin’s shirt had dried relatively evenly. He reached out to pick it up, but hesitated. Although he was scared
to do so, Ilgrin knew that he should inspect the wound on his shoulder. He turned to look and winced at the site.
The wound wasn’t excessively long, but it’d been split wide open, telling the tale of its depth. The knife had penetrated muscle and now pus forced its way out around a semi-dried and crusted scab. Ilgrin would have to be careful to keep it clean if he hoped to avoid serious infection. He stretched his wing cautiously, but his breath caught in response to a stabbing sensation that ran down the length of his arm. Flight was out of the question and would be so for some time.
With special care, Ilgrin slithered back into his shirt and made his way back toward the cave. As he approached he slowed down to the sound of animated conversation.
‘It’s the only way.’ Emquin’s voice echoed off the smooth rock walls.
‘But what if it tries to eat us,’ Seeol chattered back. ‘You said they does scary, naughty activities.’
‘And I wasn’t exaggerating,’ Emquin replied. ‘But there’s no way we’ll make it without him.’
‘I don’t--’
‘Quiet,’ Emquin hushed the owl as Ilgrin entered the cave. ‘There you are,’ she said, flabbergasted.
‘You looking better than gorgeous,’ Seeol bobbed his head. ‘You have a clean and spiffy shirt.’
‘Thank you,’ Ilgrin said, pausing for a moment before continuing. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’
‘Of course not, dear,’ Emquin shifted her hoof uncomfortably. ‘We were just wondering what you have planned now that . . .’ she trailed off.
‘Now that my parents are dead and the whole country is looking for me?’ Ilgrin said bluntly.
‘Yesh,’ Seeol scrabbled across the earth until he stood at Ilgrin’s feet, locking his motionless eyes on his. ‘Does you have plans?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it, to be honest.’ Ilgrin scratched his head. ‘I’ll probably go to Old World. It’s about time I learnt the truth.’
‘Oh, you don’t want to do that,’ Emquin cautioned. ‘They’ll make a meal out of an innocent thing like you.’
‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe that,’ Ilgrin said defensively. ‘There must be others like me.’
‘I suppose.’ Emquin glanced at Seeol nervously. The bird looked back at her, but said nothing.
‘Well, go on, then.’ Ilgrin raised his hands. Clearly they’d been discussing an alternative plan in his absence. ‘Out with it.’
‘Well . . . we were hoping you might assist us in reaching the Frozen Lands,’ Emquin spoke hesitantly. ‘Horses don’t get very far without a rider.’
‘They can fixes us,’ Seeol screeched overexcitedly as he spun in circles kicking up tiny clouds of dust. ‘El-i-mish . . . El-i-miir! El-i-miir never told us this could happen but they can fixes horses to humans again and maybe make sure some little owls don’t become too big and ugly anymore.’
‘I have no idea what any of that meant,’ Ilgrin said slowly.
‘I need to find Mish Mish,’ Seeol barked. ‘El-i-miish will make us better than ever.’
‘Right.’ Ilgrin frowned. ‘So you think the Elglair might be able to give you a human body?’ He directed the question at Emquin, having given up on trying to interpret the elf owl’s ramblings. ‘That sounds a little far-fetched, even for the Elglair.’
‘It’s the only hope I’ve got,’ Emquin said ruefully.
‘What’s in it for me?’ Ilgrin frowned. ‘I mean, it’s not like this comes without risk. Do you know what the Elglair will do if they discover me?’
‘Probably torture and kill you,’ Emquin replied, not bothering to water down what they both knew was the truth. ‘But without our help, you’d have been killed in Sitnic. You owe us this.’
‘I freed you,’ Ilgrin snapped defensively. ‘That makes us even.’
‘Please.’ Emquin’s voice was strained. ‘You’ve gone your whole life without going south. Can’t you give us just a few more weeks? That’s all we’re asking for, a month or so to help some friends.’
‘Yes.’ Seeol twitched his head toward Ilgrin. ‘Please help us have happy times. You don’t know what it’s like to become all big and horrible and be eating yucky things and having lots of blood in the air.’
‘Again.’ Ilgrin raised a hand toward Seeol. ‘Not making any sense.’ There was a silent moment after which Ilgrin sighed in defeat. ‘I’m not going all the way. The Elglair will know what I am the second they lay eyes on me. I’ll go as far as the northern border of Egsean, and no farther.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Emquin’s voice was full of emotion. ‘If I could hug you, I would. I’ve waited so long for this.’
‘Yes.’ Seeol bounced on his toes. ‘And we can play games with Seteal! She is fun and likes to do fun things and scratches my head sometimes.’
Ilgrin stared at the bird for a long moment, wondering not for the first time if Seeol even knew what he was saying or if it was just garbled mimicry. He turned back to Emquin. ‘First of all, I’m going to need a cloak.’