From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [93]
“Found her?” Shung asked.
“She’s gone.” Achan held his hands in front of his face. They were trembling. He sat up and looked from Sir Eagan, who sat on the end of his bed, to Sir Caleb, who stood by the armoire. “What can I do? Is there nothing I can do?”
“Can you guess where she went?” Sir Eagan asked.
“No. She doesn’t know me. I frighten her. She thinks I’m Esek or something.”
“Esek?” Sir Caleb asked. “Why?”
“You think I know? The whole thing is maddening!”
Sir Eagan’s calm voice urged him along. “Keep messaging her. Do not give up.”
“What’s the point? Even if I can reach her, how can I convince her of the truth? She doesn’t remember me.”
Sir Eagan gripped Achan’s shoulder. Warmth and calm flooded through the connection. “When someone has forgotten, it helps to bring them to a familiar place. Familiar scents and sounds can also kindle memories.”
“I thought I would be familiar.”
“Pray harder. Ask Arman to help you,” Sir Eagan said.
Of course. Why did Achan always forget to pray first? He slid off the bed to his knees, which were still draped in layers of chain and leather armor. He put his hands on the straw mat and lowered himself to his stomach. Arman? Please, show me where Sparrow is. Take me to her. Let her remember. Give me the words to convince her to return. Show me where—
A breeze stroked Achan’s back. Talons scratched his shoulder blades. His body lifted off the floor. His mind, actually, for his body lay still as a dead man on the straw mat. Shung sat on Achan’s bed. Sir Eagan and Sir Caleb stood together in the doorway. None seemed to see Achan rising through the tent, legs flailing.
He twisted around and saw a great speckled brown bird holding him, gripping the back of his surcoat with its claws. A brown wing flapped across his view. When it lifted for another stroke, the bird had carried him through the roof and into the black sky.
Achan wanted to scream. He should at least message Shung and inform his Shield that a bird of prey had taken his soul. But a great calm washed away every concern.
This bird was Arman’s answer to his prayer.
It carried him from the torchlights of camp. Each flap of its massive wings brought a warm gust of air on Achan’s neck and ears. In the darkness, Achan had no way of tracking which direction the bird flew. But Darkness quickly faded to a charcoal fog, then a grey haze, then a white cloud. Bits of blue peeked between fluffy white clouds. Achan could hear nothing but the occasional flap of wings and his own breath.
The bird dove into a leafy forest, soaring between trees. There was something grand about this place. The trees appeared greener. Or bigger. Maybe both. And the smell… Achan inhaled long and deep. Such sweetness had never entered his nostrils.
In the distance, a golden light shone between flaky bronze tree trunks, as if he were approaching a bonfire through a forest at night. The bird swooped between two massive redpines and entered a vast meadow. Thick grass stretched in every direction, hedged by the forest on all sides. Flowers in every color Arman had made filled the air with nectar.
Something white gleamed in the distance. As they neared, it took shape. A fence. As tall as any sentry wall. Made of white stone… or was that pearl? Whatever the substance, it was carved in scallops and scrolls and towered above the flowers clustered at its base.
Achan’s heart swelled. A full, giddy joy consumed his senses. Oh, to go inside such a place. If only the bird would carry him over the fence.
But the bird slowed and descended. Achan could see the blades of grass through his transparent boots. His gaze settled on a woman who was standing before the gate, her back to him. Her body was dwarfed in size by the splendor of the looming structure. She stared through the white bars as if hoping to go inside.
Sparrow.
The bird dropped Achan in the soft grass ten paces from the woman, then settled atop the pearly gate without a sound.
Achan stumbled forward.
Sparrow turned, and her wide eyes narrowed. “You!” She perched her hands on her hips.