Taking Flight

Chapter Seventeen

To Kelder the double moonlight on the desert sand looked somehow unnatural. It was brighter than moonlight had any right to be, even when both moons were full and at zenith — and in fact, that wasn’t the case. The moons were both past zenith, the lesser descending quickly toward the western horizon, the greater still high overhead, and neither was full — the lesser was close, but the greater was only about three-quarters. The familiar rosy glow of the moons combined with the gold of the sands to make an odd, burnt-orange color that Kelder didn’t like at all. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for sunrise?” he asked.

“Come on,” Irith said, “let’s get out of here!”

Asha said nothing, but she obviously agreed with Irith; she was tugging at Kelder’s sleeve. Reluctantly, he came.

“I can see why you’re in a hurry, Asha,” he said. “You want to set your brother’s soul free. But I don’t know why you’re rushing so much, Irith.”

She glanced back over her shoulder; the city wall gleamed ruddily in the moonslight, and the open gates were a tangle of torchlight and shadow. She thought she saw something moving, and wasn’t sure if it was just a flickering shadow, or really someone there.

“Let’s just say I don’t much care for Shan on the Desert any more,” the Flyer replied.

“Is it because that inn was gone?” Asha asked.

“No,” Irith answered.

“It’s that old drunk, isn’t it?” Kelder said. “Or at least that’s part of it. But I don’t see why he has you so upset.”

“It’s not him, either,” Irith said, with another glance behind.

Kelder looked at her, then turned his gaze to his feet and trudged onward through the cool orange sands.

She was lying, he was sure. It was the drunk.

They had gone no more than a league when the lesser moon set; the greater moon was working its way toward the horizon, as well. Color faded from their surroundings, and Kelder began to worry.

“Are we still on the highway?” he asked.

For several seconds, no one answered. Then Irith said, “I don’t know. I can’t see that well.”

They stumbled on for a moment longer, and then Kelder remarked, “Well, if we’re not, at least the caravaners won’t find us.”

“Those demons could,” Irith replied.

Asha started crying quietly.

“You would have to say that,” Kelder muttered, not really meaning Irith to hear.

“Oh, shut up,” Irith said.

“We’re going to wander around in circles until we die!” Asha wailed.

“No, we aren’t,” Irith snapped.

Kelder took it upon himself to expand on this. “We’re all right, Asha,” he said. “Really. We know we’re going south because the greater moon is on our right, see? And look, off to the left.” He pointed. “There’s light on the horizon, that’s the sun coming because it’s almost dawn, so that’s east. So even if we lose the highway, we’ll reach that big cliff eventually, and then we can find the road again.”

“Oh,” Asha said, struggling to stifle her tears. A moment later, when they were under control, she whined, “I’m tired.”

“We all are,” Kelder said.

“Then why don’t we rest?”

Kelder halted in his tracks with the intention of making some biting retort, and then stopped. “You’re right,” he said. “Why don’t we? They probably aren’t going to come after us. Even if they realize we’ve left the city, why should they go to all that trouble? They have plenty of heads. So what’s the hurry?” He sat down on the cool sand. “I’m tired, too, and I’m going to sit here and rest until the sun comes up and we can see what we’re doing.”

Asha smiled, and plopped down beside him.

Irith had proceeded a dozen paces farther, but now she stopped, as well, and turned back to look at the others. “Here?” she said. “Out in the middle of the desert?”

“Why not?” Kelder asked. “What’s going to bother us?”

Irith looked back at Shan, still visible as a dark, uneven line on the horizon and a faint glow in the sky.

“Besides,” Kelder said, “if anything comes after us, we’ll see it in plenty of time. You can grow wings and fly away.”

“It’ll still get us,” Asha said, momentarily concerned.

“It would,” Kelder agreed, “if anything were going to come after us, but nothing is. And besides, if Irith got away, she’d find some way to save us, I’m sure.”

Irith looked at Kelder doubtfully, suspecting — with reason — that he was being sarcastic.

“All right,” she said, “we can rest here for a little while, I guess.” She folded her legs and sank to the ground.

None of them really intended to sleep; the idea was merely to rest for a few minutes.

On the other hand, none of them had had much more than four hours sleep in the past twenty-four, and they had walked a very great distance in that time, as well as going through the various excitements in Shan. Kelder had punched an old man, Irith had pried a severed head off the point of a spear, and Asha had participated in the rescue, as she saw it, of her brother’s soul.

Within five minutes, long before the sun rose or the greater moon set, they were all sound asleep.

Even as he lay sleeping, something nagged at Kelder. He knew he shouldn’t be asleep, and that knowledge troubled his dreams.

Still, exhaustion had a firm grip on him, and he slept on.

The sun rose, and its warmth on his face, its light on his eyelids discomfited him; he struggled to wake up.

Something threw a shadow over him briefly, and the sands shifted slightly; the sound of footsteps reached Kelder, even asleep. He stirred slightly, and tried to pry his eyes open, tried to make his arms and legs move.

A low voice spoke, something brushed — and Irith shrieked.

Kelder was awake at last, scrambling to his feet.

Irith screamed, long and piercing; she was sitting up, hands out to fend off, and as Kelder’s eyes focused her wings appeared and spread. She kicked off, flapping, and skittered across the sand for a moment, heels dragging, before she managed to get herself airborne.

As she did, a dark, ragged shape that Kelder could not immediately identify threw itself at her, trying to grab her, hold her down, bring her back — but unsuccessfully. She slipped away and soared upward. Kelder and Asha watched her go.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow, didn’t look back; she flapped strongly and steadily as she drove southward toward the horizon.

The ragged creature wailed and wept, calling after her; most of the words, if they were words, were unintelligible, but the name Irith was repeated frequently. It staggered along for a few paces, then collapsed, sobbing, into a miserable, huddled heap. Then it lifted its head. With a shock, Kelder realized that the creature was the old drunk who had accosted Irith back in Shan.

“Irith,” the old man called, “come back! I won’t hurt you, I swear it, I just want to talk! Please!”

The distant speck that was Irith the Flyer continued to dwindle.

“Now what do we do?” Asha asked.

Kelder looked about. His pack was still lying where he had left it; the bundle containing Abden’s head was there, as well. He looked up. It didn’t look as if Irith was coming back right away.

He considered. He knew that he would find her again — Zindre’s prediction was that he would marry her and bring her home to Shulara with him, so he knew he would find her again.

He didn’t know when, where, or how, though.

That would have to take care of itself; there were more immediate concerns. “We can go on and build the pyre ourselves,” Kelder said. “But first, I want to know just what in the World is going on here!” He stepped forward and grabbed the old man by the shoulder.

The filthy cloth of his tunic felt greasy and unpleasant under Kelder’s hand, but Kelder ignored that. The old man started slightly at the youth’s touch, but didn’t resist; he didn’t even turn to look, but instead kept staring after Irith.

“Old man,” Kelder said, “who are you?”

The drunk simply stared at the departing Flyer.

“Talk to me, damn it!” Kelder shouted. “Who are you? Why is she scared of you?”

That penetrated.

“Scared of me?” The old man turned and looked up at Kelder, astonishment plain on his face. “Why would she be scared of me?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Kelder snapped. “Who are you?”

The man blinked, as if considering a new and surprising idea.

“What’s your name?” Asha asked, stepping up beside Kelder.

“Ezdral,” he replied. “My name is Ezdral.”

“Just Ezdral?” Kelder asked.

The old man shrugged. “Mostly,” he said. “Back in Shan they call me Ezdral the Sot, mostly.” He blinked. “That’ll do. I’m not drunk right now, haven’t touched a drop since I saw Irith in the arcade last night, but I’ve been pretty sodden for a long time, there’s no sense in denying it.”

“All right, Ezdral,” Kelder said, withdrawing his hand and resisting the temptation to wipe it on his own tunic, “how do you know Irith?”

The old man looked down, coughed, spat something out, wiped his mouth on a grubby sleeve. He turned, squatted, and then sat down, crossing his legs slowly and carefully.

Kelder waited.

Ezdral looked up at him, and then gestured at the ground. Asha took the hint and dropped down, sitting facing Ezdral. Kelder took a moment longer, but joined them.

“When I was eighteen,” Ezdral began, “I met...”

“When was that?” Asha interrupted.

Ezdral frowned. “What year is it now?”

“5222,” Kelder told him.

“Then I’m... let me see... sixty-two, is it? Born on the first of Thaw, 5159...”

“Sixty-three... no, sixty-two,” Kelder agreed.

“So it would have been forty-four years ago.” He looked at them for agreement.

Asha nodded. Kelder said, “Go on.”

Ezdral took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“When I was eighteen,” he said again, “I met a girl, a beautiful girl with golden hair, like I’d never seen before. I was working in a stable in Mezgalon, and she was passing through, and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. We got to talking, and she said her name was Irith the Flyer, and when I asked how she got a name like that she showed me how she could grow wings and fly.”

Kelder and Asha looked at one another.

“Forty years ago?” Kelder asked.

Ezdral nodded.

“It can’t be the same one,” Kelder said. “She’s only fifteen. She said so.”

Ezdral shook his head wearily, and peered at Kelder from beneath heavy lids. “She was fifteen then, too,” he said.

Kelder’s lips tightened. “Go on with your story,” he said.

“We talked, and I fell in love with her,” Ezdral said. “I mean, wildly and madly in love. She was so beautiful, so sweet. And we left Mezgalon together, and we traveled the Small Kingdoms from Shan to Lamum, Fileia to Lurethon.” He smiled. “Oh, we had some good times, we did. Filched a jeweler’s best stones once in Hlimora just so Irith could play with them. Danced naked in the Forest of Amramion. Got roaring drunk with the crown prince of Tuyoa, and Irith challenged his court wizard to a duel of magic and almost got herself killed. She could do other magic, not just shapeshifting, you know — had maybe half a dozen spells. Wasn’t any match for a real wizard, though.” He sighed.

The recitation paused for a moment, but Kelder and Asha waited without protest this time.

“We were together a little over a year, I think,” Ezdral said, resuming his tale. “I was nineteen, maybe twenty, by then. I started to think about maybe settling down somewhere, maybe having children someday. And one day I woke up and Irith wasn’t there. We’d been at her favorite inn in Shan on the Desert, a place called the Crystal Skull, and I still was, but she wasn’t.”

Kelder glanced down at Asha; she was sitting rapt, taking this all in. “Why did she leave?” the child asked.

Ezdral turned up an empty palm. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe she just got bored with me.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I waited, at first — I waited a month, to see if she would come back. When she didn’t, I went out looking for her, going up and down the Great Highway and around to all the places we’d gone together, but I didn’t find her. I’d hear about her now and then — how she had flown over Angarossa Castle shouting insults, or been seen playing with the Queen of Ophera’s cats — but I never caught up to her, never saw her myself. And after a time I sort of drifted back to Shan, doing odd jobs or begging, and I stayed there and waited for her.”

“Why didn’t you just forget about her?” Kelder asked. “Find yourself another girl?”

“Because I couldn’t, damn it!” Ezdral shouted, in the first display of temper Kelder had seen from him. “I couldn’t! Don’t you think I tried? But I couldn’t go to sleep at night without thinking about her, couldn’t look at another woman without thinking that Irith was prettier... I was in love with her, so damnably in love — and I still am, damn it all to the Nether Void!” He pounded a fist on the sand, and then went on more calmly, “I started drinking to try and forget her, I just drank all the time, whenever I could get money, and it was even starting to work, a little, after twenty years or so — and then last night I looked up and there she was, I saw her walking past me, as big as life, looking just as she always had. And at first I thought I was dreaming, or that the wine was giving me visions, though I hadn’t drunk that much, and then I thought I was dead and had died and this was her ghost, and I could see her because I was a ghost, and then I finally realized it was real, she’d come back, and I called to her.”

He fell silent for a moment, and Kelder remembered the previous night’s events, not with satisfaction, but with a growing dismay, like a weight in his belly.

“I called to her,” Ezdral repeated, “and she said she didn’t know me, she ran away screaming, and then you hit me, and I fell down.”

“I’m sorry,” Kelder whispered.

“You didn’t know,” Ezdral said, waving it aside. “I knew, though. I knew she had been deliberately avoiding me all these years, that that was why she hadn’t come back to Shan, and I knew she’d leave again now that she knew I was there, but I had to talk to her, I had to tell her that I loved her, so I went to the gate and waited, and I hoped she wouldn’t just fly over the wall. And she didn’t, but you were with her, and I didn’t want a fight, so I followed, trying to think of what I could say, what I could do that would make her talk to me, make her stay with me.” He let his breath out in a long, shuddering sigh.

Asha didn’t know what to say. Kelder couldn’t say anything at all, and Ezdral had finished. For a time they all sat silently on the sand, thinking their own thoughts.