Chapter Thirty

All-Seer

“Ambush!” Sarah yelled as the two Legacies bolted back into the clearing, kicking up leaves and mud as they ran.

Oliver, Aroha, and Nichole all stood up in surprise. Sarah and Michael grabbed their friends as they bolted by and dragged them into a thicket of brush. The group huddled in amongst the leaves, all breathing hard and fast.

Sarah tried to peer between the trembling twigs. “Do you see them, Michael?”

“I didn’t even see them when they shot at us! Are you hurt at all?”

Sarah handed one of the spears to Oliver and the other to Aroha, ignoring a small pang on her arm. “It’s not worth worrying about. Honestly, I don’t think they were aiming to kill.”

Aroha frowned as she gripped the spear. “You don’t want one?”

Sarah shook her head blue flame curled up from the tips of her fingers to the points of her elbows. The fire cast dark shadows through her hair and flicked behind her eyes.

Nichole picked up a jagged rock lying by her foot. “How many were there?”

Michael glanced at Sarah and neither spoke. He then ventured, “At least a dozen arrows, so at least a dozen shooters but I’m not sure.”

Aroha bumped shoulders with Nichole to get her attention and said, “What’s your guess? Atyons? Maybe Setheen?”

Nichole frowned, lowering her rock. “Setheen in the Ringlands?”

Oliver seemed to be making a mental calculation in his head and glanced at Nichole. “We could go take a look?”

Michael fixed him with a hard glare and said, “I don’t think so.”

Oliver grinned in spite of his best efforts and said, “I really don’t think you have to worry.”

With that he gently intertwined his fingers and steadily breathed out. Veins and tendons along the young man’s neck began to swell and flicker with light, travelling from the base of his jawline down into his upper body, vanishing behind his patchwork shirt.

He cast one last glance at Michael as the pain of his Arcancy writhed through him he and gave a winning smile. Then, like he was born of firewood, every inch of his flesh ignited with thick black smoke and the boy was engulfed in an instant of shadow. The ever-blowing wind then caught up the great plume of smoke and sent it drifting away, with Oliver nowhere to be seen within it, like an invisible flame had consumed every inch of him.

Michael opened his mouth but Nichole rolled her eyes and said, “Bit dramatic.”

Before Michael had time to spew questions, Nichole vanished from head to toe in the blink of an eye, like she had been fog on a glass window, wiped away. Suddenly five was three and Michael had half-forgotten about the ambush.

Aroha smirked at the look on Michael’s face. “It takes some getting used to.”

Michael tried to peer through the dense foliage but nothing revealed itself. Wind merely blew through the trickle of dead leaves tumbling from high above. After a long moment of silence, Oliver and Nichole reappeared in a flash beside the others and Aroha jumped out of her skin.

Aroha shoved her girlfriend and scolded, “We’ve talked about this- warning please!”

Nichole’s stern face broke into a rare grin of laughter and raised her hands apologetically.

“What did you see?” asked Michael.

Oliver shook his head, irate with himself. “Some tracks but nothing else.”

Nichole peered through the leaves once more. “They barely scratched the forest floor. Whatever they were, they’re light-footed. Their tracks led away to the north. If we move camp we might be able to slip them.”

Aroha shook her head. “They know we’re here now. If they’re Atyon, it means it’s a territorial thing, and they’ll just follow us. We need to stand our ground and show them we don’t mean any trouble.”

Michael peered through the thicket and could only see broad tree trunks, moss and dark foliage. A moment ago it was so cozy and endearing. Suddenly he was suffocated and surrounded. “I think Nicky’s right. If its their land, then we leave.”

“Do you see any signs?” Aroha asked, gesturing with bitterness. “We could walk fifty leagues and still be in their land. Or worse, we could walk fifty leagues just to cross into someone else’s land.”

Michael fell into silent agreement and slowly everyone immerged from the bushes, stepping back into the clearing with their weapons raised.

There was a hard, long silence but nothing came of it and everyone moved tensely back to their tasks.

Michael and Sarah went back to crafting weapons, and eventually they outfitted themselves with a set of rough knives for Nichole, something resembling a shortsword for himself and another spear for Sarah.

Oliver and Aroha dragged fall tree trunks into a loose triangle around the firepit.

Once it was smoking in the centre of their clearing, the Legacies sat around it, speaking of small things. It was still early in the afternoon, dark was yet to fall, and light danced between the thick canopy overhead.

The conversation flowed easily until Sarah’s stomach rumbled a touch too loudly and she snorted as a result, sending everyone into a spiral of laughter.

Oliver chuckled and picked up his spear. “Want to see if we can find a stream? Catch some fish before it gets dark?”

Sarah’s blush died down again and she made to stand, stopping mid-way. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.” She leaned back and whistled sharply into the sky, sending the sound echoing deep into the rainforest.

Michael frowned. ‘We’re in another country…”

Sarah looked at him and simply said, “Yes, we are.”

The five young warriors sat in anticipation for a long moment when thunder purred in the distance, somewhere above the overcasting leaves. Green flickers took the place of the hazy rays of sunlight, and like a boulder dislodging from a cliffside, Raeken came hurtling through the canopy in a burst of mixed light before slowing to a wide-winged stop up above them. His wings beat hard and the fire billowed sparks as he landed beside them.

The enormous lizard trudged toward Sarah, its faint, yellow eyes darting back and forth between her and her companions. It croaked a short question to her as it carefully scanned the surrounding woodland.

Sarah smiled sweetly at the beast and stroked the scruff of its scaly neck. “We’re keeping an eye out, don’t worry. Would you find us something that won’t poison us to eat? I know half the fish in the rivers here will kill us.”

Michael watched the two interact and felt something strange about the dragon, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The face he’d been making must’ve been a blatant one, however, because soon after, the dragon looked directly at him and croaked another short question which Michael knew was meant for Sarah.

Sarah suppressed a grin and turned in her seat to Michael. “He wants to know why you’re staring at him.”

Michael’s frown only deepened. “It knows that I’ve been staring?”

Oliver looked similarly disconcerted.

Sarah looked back and forth between them and said, “He’s a Drakonian, not a dog. He can understand everything just as well as you or I.”

“Good to know,” Oliver said nervously.

The jade beast gave them one last look and stalked off into the thick of the forest, vanishing from sight.

Michael spent a good deal of time thinking about Raeken, apparently making the same face as before, for eventually Sarah tossed a stick at him and said, “Ask, Williams.”

“I don’t know what to ask.” Michael swept his hair back and crossed his arms, angry at his own mind.

“Only you could you have a question on your mind and not even know what it is,” Aroha said, playing with a lightly smouldering branch she’d pulled out of the bonfire.

“Sometimes I think of a question, then I get distracted, so I still need to know an answer but I’ve forgotten which one- his size! That’s it! I thought dragons were supposed to be devastatingly huge?”

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Sarah grinned and slowly rolled her makeshift spear between her palms. “Raeken is old. I mean properly old. He’s been aiding my family since Robinsons were just called Robins. Not sure how long exactly, but hundreds of cycles for sure.”

Nichole’s face awoke with realisation and then she frowned in her curiosity. “In ancient myth, the Drakonian would be as big as rivers by a hundred cycles old... Some were even so enormous that after a few centuries they would rest on mountains like great, sloped mattresses. They were the greatest and oldest Citizens of the Gargan.”

Aroha blinked, interjecting, “So, then why does Raeken look like a slightly tall alligator? And why is he fetching our dinner?”

Sarah swatted Aroha’s leg with her spear, only making the ranger laugh, and said, “It’s a long story. And he insists I ask him for things when its helpful, okay?”

Michael, Nichole and Aroha cozied closer to the fire.

Oliver stayed where he was after glancing to the fire in front of them both. His arms prickled with goosebumps and he rubbed them slowly to warm them up.

Michael watched Oliver realise he could easily lean toward the fire. But that would mean leaning away from Sarah. Michael then watched as Oliver settled for breathing warm air into his palms. Sarah didn’t notice. She was humming to herself. Oliver closed his eyes and listened to her.

If Michael hadn’t already believed in love, that moment would’ve done it. In his entire life, it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, as simple as it was.

It was the gentle things, Michael found, that were most beautiful. Watching a strand of hair fall out of place. Watching the way their hand fumbled to tuck it back. The way smiles trailed off or warmed into being. The creases in their face. The little songs people sing to themselves when they think no one’s watching. The different way someone eats when they’re around the people who matter to them. The words we say. The way we say them. Love isn’t great, unending gestures. It is in small touches, for fear of overstaying your welcome. It’s in short glances, for the worry making them feel observed. It’s in silent things, in giving them space to fill your world. Love tends to speak for itself, in its own funny little ways.

Michael looked across the flames to Sarah and politely raised his hand. “I’d personally like to hear it.”

Sarah shrugged and stretched out her tight arms. “The story was half-forgotten by the time it got to me, so forgive me for the holes, but as far as I remember Raeken was a pup, a runt, abandoned in a forest somewhere in the mountains of the Central Alps in the dead of winter. My ancestors found him and they were lucky enough to know something about Arcancy and magic and all the rest- at least enough not to panic and leave Raeken to die in the cold.” Sarah gently held her hands over the nearest flames.

“But they had a problem. This is Talisatia we’re talking about, and this was before my family had-” she glanced at her friends, all politely nodding understanding, “well, before they had the privileges they have now. Anyway, they couldn’t hide a dragon in their house in Otylia, which was barely a shack, since he was getting bigger. A lot bigger, and quite quickly too. So, they cursed him, to stop his growth... we think.”

Aroha tossed her smouldering piece of timber back into the bonfire. “You think?”

“Like I said, this story is old. We don’t know all the details. We only know something like that happened because he told us.”

Michael cocked his head a touch. “Raeken told you?”

Raeken trudged noisily back into the circle and rumbled from deep in his stomach to announce his arrival. In the teeth of his long jaw he lightly carried a bundle of freshly caught fish, setting them down on the log beside Sarah.

The five Legacies all cheered quietly and slowly they began roasting the fish on the fire in long green leaves they pulled from the lower branches.

They ate and spoke and idly watched the forest around them, and after a moment they all but forgot about the ambush which had come before, and the darkness seemed to harbour some peace once again.

While his power had offered him a lot more comfort than before, Michael appreciated the campfire still. It’s flickering reminded him of home.

The wind spoke softly to the company’s ears and sent the smell of cooked fish down into the dark of the Treewater with the ever-flowing breeze.

They learned that Raeken’s mysterious enchantment kept him at a manageable size, but unfortunately it was becoming clear that the magic had an expiration date of some kind. Since Sarah was born, the dragon had occasionally grown an inch or two, and they were beginning to wonder what it might mean if the spell was to fail completely. Apparently, it was for this reason that Raeken was not welcome to stay at Fort Guardian full-time, as there was a small but very real possibility that he might suddenly expand to the size of a small mountain, destroy every fortress structure and crush every resident present.

Michael watched the diamond-scaled dragon and the way he laid his head at Sarah’s feet. Unlike many myths surrounding those fearsome creatures, Raeken seemed content on sleeping with both eyes closed.

Darkness crept in around the glow of their great fire and eventually they decided it would be best to set a proper watch and let the others sleep.

Michael didn’t feel even remotely tired so he offered to stay up first and bid the others goodnight as they filed into the small lean-to that was set up around the base of the nearest tree in the clearing. Raeken slept in a small circle just outside the door-opening, snoring the moment his head touched the forest floor.

Michael sat himself on the edge of the dying fire once more and looked over the raggedy sword which Sarah had made for him. It was little more than a long sliver of stone with thick flax leaves wrapped around a thinner end in the fashion of a handle, but it made him feel safe. Michael leant back and stared up into the high ceiling of the rainforest.

The layers of shadow played tricks on his eyes. Movements flashed which weren’t truly there.

A rustling of gentle sound came behind him and Michael turned to see Aroha strolling out with her hands in her pockets.

“Mind if I bother you?”

Michael smiled and shook his head. “Not at all.” He tossed another piece of wood on the fire and patted the seat beside him. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Always.” Aroha sat down and began running her fingers through the longer patches of her side-shaven head. She never quite felt like herself when her hair grew out too long and briefly wondered if any of their weapons would be sharp enough to cut it. She then glanced at Michael and found him deep in thought, staring at the uneven blade of his sword. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just realised this sword looks almost like a ceremonial dagger. Made me think about fanatics… then religions... which then made me think about prophets and now I’m thinking about my Arcancy.”

Aroha took the sword off of him and began trying to balance it on her finger. “You should try again.”

Michael idly looked at the resting veins on his hands and shrugged. “Sarah reckons I should wait till we get back home. Might lure some dangerous stuff here otherwise.”

Aroha’s deep hazel eyes smirked a touch. “Bit late to stay out of danger, friend.”

Michael glared defensively. “No sense putting us in further danger.”

“It ever occur to you that it’s situations like these which are where you should be practising?” she said earnestly.

Michael softened the edge of his manner and sighed.

Aroha ruffled his hair and Michael snorted. “Legacies are always in danger, Michael. Arcancy puts us in danger sometimes, but it also gets us out of it. Well, not me personally, but still.”

Michael furrowed his brow and picked another piece of fish from the leaf beside him. “What would I even try to... see?”

Aroha twisted her spear in her palms like she was trying to spark a fire. “I don’t know. Be proactive. See if you can find our shooters. Here.” She leant down and handed him one of the arrows they’d found after the ambush.

It wasn’t what Michael had expected. Rather than a piece of wood whittled into a shaft and outfitted like an arrow, it seemed this arrow had been grown from tail to point. It was a singular piece of wood, and the flights were perfectly hewn leaves, sprouting naturally from one end. The arrowhead was fragmented from where it had struck the ground, but the wood it consisted of seemed denser than that of the shaft, lending weight more to the point.

Michael couldn’t help but think about entire bushes full of these, plucked at harvest like strawberries. He lightly handled the arrow and closed his eyes. He felt every bump, every splinter and crack. He felt the roughness of the wood and began painting the image in his mind.

Veins tickled in his neck.

Michael brought it closer to his face and smelt the gentle perfume of the forest in its leaves. He remembered the way it had looked when it was sailing toward him. The way he’d felt when he thought it was about to strike.

And then he stopped himself. He didn’t want to be in the same place as before. He didn’t need to see that again.

Michael opened his eyes and twisted the arrow in-between his fingers, positioning it like he was about to string it on a non-existent bow. He closed his eyes once more and imagined himself up in the dark of the trees. He imagined his eyes staring down the length of that arrow and finding the unsuspecting Legacies below.

A small pain rang in his wrist.

Michael married the feeling of the brittle arrow and the callouses on his fingers. He drew in a deep archer’s breath.

Pain exploded behind Michael’s eyes and he roared out as he fought to stay on his feet.

Aroha sprinted to his side and yelled, “Are you okay?”

Michael tried to pry his eyes open but as he did so, hot white light spilled from his irises and the world shifted and morphed before him like he’d been thrown deep under water. The swirling images of light pressed deep into his eyes and the pain grew so hot that they turned his gargles of anguish into outright screams.

Aroha grabbed Michael by the arm as tears glistened her eyes. “Michael!”

Oliver burst out from the tent, squinty-eyed and stumbling with Sarah and Nichole right behind him as he yelled, “What’s going on?”

Michael collapsed to his knees and he ran out of breath to scream while his friends panicked around him.

And then he stopped, suddenly breathing hard but free of agony.

Nichole stared wide-eyed at her girlfriend and back to Michael. “What’s happening?”

Michael didn’t answer. He sat staring blindly out in front of himself, his eyes burning with pale light, except he couldn’t see where his mortal eyes were looking, for he wasn’t watching the world through them.

Michael could see bundled leaves, almost too thick to peer through, as though someone had taken another’s sight and crammed it into his mind.

Sarah took his hand and crouched down in front of him. “Can you hear us?”

Michael took a long time but eventually his head bobbed up and down.

The four Legacies all melted to the forest floor in relief and Oliver bit back a sob as he stuttered, “Are you okay?”

Michael, still as stone, nodded once more.

Raeken’s thudding footsteps sounded in the dark and his throat rattled with low, thunderous growls. His eyes glimmered like yellow topaz as they scanned the forest dark.

“Something’s here,” Sarah whispered, placing both hands on her spear.

The image in Michael’s mind became clearer. He watched as the bundled leaves in his vision were coaxed open by a gentle hand. In their other hand was a bow, made from perfectly grown wood like the arrow he held in his pain-clenched hand.

Michael tried to open his mouth but he was too weak to speak.

The pain in his eyes began to flare again as the image sharpened. The free hand which had moved the branches was now reaching behind its back. From some hidden quiver, it drew a long, dark arrow and placed it upon the bowstring.

Though they had shifted some of the leaves, Michael couldn’t make out what was beyond the foliage or where the figure was hiding, and it was only when they stood, and the campfire, the Legacies and Michael himself came into view that he understood.

Michael blinked and the light died in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nichole asked timidly.

Michael grabbed his sword, turned and sent it whipping into the bushes behind them, striking something with a meaty shink!

A pitched, gargling scream echoed through the forest as an arrow flew out in reply before Michael had the strength to move.