Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (25 page)

“Eyan did them,” Alicine said.

Dayn turned to Eyan. “You did these?” he
asked.

“Aye,” Eyan said meekly.

“Where have you seen people like this?” Dayn
asked.

“He saw pictures of them in a cave near the
river,” Alicine said. “And look, Dayn; look at
this
one.”

She moved the light toward the red-haired
image at the far end of the gallery. Dayn stepped closer, then took
a startled step back. He gawked at the Reiv look-alike, then
wheeled to face Eyan. “Take me to the cave,” he said.

Eyan’s expression tightened. Dayn’s command
clearly had him rattled, or was it something else?

Dayn moved toward him. “Now,” he ordered.

“But—but Father said I’m not to go back
there,” Eyan sputtered.

“I don’t care,” Dayn said. “I need to see
what’s in that cave.”

“What is it, Dayn?” Alicine asked. “He told
me he was only copying old cave pictures. What else do you think
you’ll find?”

“History. Or prophecy,” he said. “I guess
we’ll know when we get there.”

Eyan nodded reluctantly and took the lantern
from Alicine’s hand. He beckoned for her and Dayn to follow. They
descended the ladder and headed out the barn, then made their way
around to the other side of it. He motioned for them to keep quiet
as he peeked around the corner toward the house. His mother could
be seen heading to the drying line.

“She’ll skin me alive if she knows where I’m
takin’ ye,” he whispered. “Where’s your mother right now? Do ye
know?”

“Last I saw her she was heading to the root
cellar,” Alicine said.

“All right,” Eyan said. “Let’s go then.”

They snuck around the back and high-tailed it
toward the woods. Eyan took the lead, darting around the woodpile,
then sprinting into a nearby copse of woods. The snapping of twigs
shouted their every step, prompting Dayn to glance over his
shoulder as often as Eyan did. But no one appeared to be following
or standing with their hands fisted on their hips as they watched
them go.

Before long they were following a brook which
led to a widening stream. “Not far now,” Eyan said. He shoved aside
a wall of brush and sidled into a narrow abutment of rock.

“How’d you ever find this place?” Dayn asked,
stepping sideways as he followed.

Eyan changed direction and scrambled up an
incline of gravel. “Chasin' a rabbit,” he replied, then vanished
into the cliffside.

Dayn and Alicine reached the spot where Eyan
had disappeared and realized they were standing at the entrance of
a cave.

“Come on,” Eyan’s voice echoed from the
shadows.

“I think I’ll wait here,” Alicine said.

“I think I’ll wait with you,” Dayn said with
uneasiness. “How far in does it go?” he hollered in Eyan’s
direction. “Do we need a torch?”

“No,” Eyan hollered back. “It’s shallow;
plenty o’ light.”

Dayn drew a breath and ducked inside. Alicine
followed close behind.

Dayn soon learned that Eyan was right; the
cave was nothing more than a wide fissure in the rocks, eroded into
a grotto of lichen and spotty mushrooms. Bright light spilled in at
its mouth, but grew dim as it crept toward the throat.

“The pictures are further back,” Eyan
informed them. “It’s not as bright there, but ye can still see
‘em.”

He waved for them to follow, and the three of
them worked their way along a path littered with splintered bones
and rocky debris.

Eyan stepped over the skeletal remains of a
rather large animal, but Alicine worked her way as far from the
carcass as possible. Dayn, on the other hand, stopped to lean over
it. Perhaps it warranted investigation, he reasoned. The last time
he’d seen bones in a cave, they had not belonged to an animal.

“What are ye lookin’ at?” Eyan asked,
twisting around to see what held Dayn’s attention.

“Just wondering what these were,” Dayn said.
He squatted down to get a better look. “It’s not a wolf is it?”

“No. It’s a mountain cat,” Eyan said.

Dayn’s eyes widened. “
Mountain cat
?
They haven’t been seen in these parts for at least five hundred
years.”

"I know, but I saw a picture o’ one in an old
book once. I can tell by the teeth and the shape of the head that
that’s what this is, or was.”

“How old do you think it is?” Alicine asked,
glancing around nervously.

“Old, but not five hundred years, that’s for
sure,” Eyan said. “I think this one was killed by a person.”

Dayn straightened up. “How do you know?” he
asked.

“See the knife marks on the bones there? But
I also found the knife and—” Eyan paused, watching Alicine
cautiously. “There’s what’s left of a person back there,” he said,
then motioned them toward the back of the cave.

The ceiling grew lower the further back they
went, and Dayn and Eyan were soon walking with knees bent and heads
ducked, though Alicine had far less difficulty.

The ceiling suddenly soared to incredible
heights, and they found themselves standing in a tubular-shaped
chamber. There was no exit, clearly they had reached a dead end,
but above them a narrow shaft of light ricocheted in, leaving areas
of the room illuminated in bright shades of gray. Eyan stopped and
pointed. Slowly he moved his finger from one end of the circular
space to the other.

“Those are the pictures,” he said, “and
that—” He turned his attention to the floor near the far wall. “—is
the person I was tellin’ ye about.”

Dayn tore his attention from the images he
had only just begun to see and turned it to the musty lump against
the far wall. He walked toward it then stopped, staring at it for a
long silent moment. It was a skeleton in an advanced state of
decay, curled up on a tattered pallet of moldy cloth. At its side
sat several bowl-shaped rocks, each with a hint of stain at their
center. A writing tool was propped nearby, and next to it lay a
pouch and a rusty old dagger.

Dayn knelt down and fingered the
disintegrating remains of the victim’s garb, then noticed a
shriveled leather belt at its waist. Something about it caught his
eye. He removed the belt gently, then ran his fingers along the
symbols tooled into the grain. Runes, he realized, and Tearian ones
at that.

“What is it?” Alicine asked.

Dayn rose with a start. He had been so
immersed in his discovery, he’d not realized she’d come up behind
him. “Look at this,” he said, thrusting the belt toward her.

Alicine leaned away. “No thank you,” she
said.

Dayn shook the belt. “It’s Tearian, Alicine.
Tearian!”

Alicine’s lips parted as her eyes gravitated
to the belt.

“What’s Tearian?” Eyan asked. He was peeking
over Alicine’s shoulder, curious as to what all the fuss was
about.

“This belt has runes on it,” Dayn said. “And
they aren’t Kiradyn. They’re Tearian. Tearia is on the other side
of the mountains—that place we went to after we left the
festival.”

“Oh…I heard ye tell your mother about it,”
Eyan said. “But I didn’t think it was, ye know, real.”

Dayn brushed past him, ignoring the
implication, and made his way back to the paintings nearest the
entrance. As he studied them, he realized they weren’t just random
images; they were faded petroglyphs, carved and stained upon the
rocks. He stepped to the right as he slowly worked his way along
the story pattern.

Alicine moved to his side. “A line of
people,” she observed. “One after another, walking toward the
mountains.”

“And Kiradyn, by the looks of them,” Dayn
said.

Eyan pointed to a spot further down. “That’s
where the demon images are,” he said. “They’re walkin’ toward the
mountains, too. I guess that’s how they came to live there.”

“Demons don’t exist,” Dayn said absently. His
attention was fully focused on the images before him, not the ones
down the way.

Alicine stepped around her brother, anxious
to see more. “Look, Dayn,” she cried. “It’s like Reiv said. There
was a gathering beneath the mountains, in the chamber with the
altar.”

Dayn shuffled down a few feet to see what she
was referring to. Sure enough, beneath an exaggerated image of the
fire mountain, was a cave, and within it a celebration of two very
different races of people.

Eyan shuddered. “That’s where the demons
sacrificed people.”

“No it’s not,” Dayn said with annoyance.
“See, the people are smiling.”

Eyan moved closer. “Oh. I thought they were
cryin’.”

Dayn rolled his eyes and stepped around Eyan,
turning his attention to the line of pale-haired Tearians making
their way to the mountain from the other side.

“Look here, Eyan,” Dayn said, pointing to the
wall. “See? The pale people there are from Tearia. And the darker
ones, over there, are from Kirador.”

Eyan surveyed them more intently.

“A long time ago,” Dayn continued, “they were
friends. Every year they’d meet in a great cavern beneath the
mountain to celebrate.”

“What were they celebratin’?” Eyan asked.

“I’m not sure. But one day something terrible
happened.” Dayn moved down, certain of what he would find: the next
chapter of the story that Reiv had told him.

“See, there,” Dayn pointed out. “The mountain
erupted in fire and the people in the cavern died.” He leaned
toward it. “You’re right, these
are
crying.”

“So are quite a few others by the looks of
it,” Alicine said. She motioned her head toward the land depicted
on both sides of the mountain—fire to the east, blackness to the
west.

“Daghadar’s Purge,” Eyan whispered.

“No, no. Not Daghadar’s Purge,” Alicine
interjected. “It just happened, like this last time, only back then
it was much worse.”

“Will it happen again?” Eyan asked.

Dayn and Alicine exchanged glances.

“I haven’t been sick recently,” Dayn said,
realizing the illnesses that once alerted him to such things hadn’t
visited him in a while.

“That must mean it’s over then,” Alicine said
optimistically.

“What happened next?” Eyan asked.

“Well,” Dayn said, “at first the Tearians
were afraid, but then they grew angry. They thought the gods were
punishing them for fraternizing with the Kiradyns. So they started
killing anyone who looked like a Kiradyn. They thought that was
what the gods wanted them to do.”

“Gods?” Eyan asked. “You mean they had more
than one?”

“Yes,” Alicine said. “They have many.”

“Then that’s why they were punished,” Eyan
said. “Because they didn’t believe in Daghadar. There’s only one
Maker, and He’s it.”

“Well if you’re so sure about that,” Dayn
said, “why did Daghadar kill the Kiradyns, too?”

“Because they were mixin’ with the heathens,”
Eyan replied.

Dayn’s impatience flared, but Alicine placed
a commanding hand on his arm. “Let’s finish looking at the
drawings,” she suggested.

Dayn expelled a huff and moved down the wall.
As expected, blond-haired people were shown dying on the Kiradyn
side of the mountain, dark-haired people doing the same on the
other.

“Here, Eyan. See? This shows the Tearians
killing the Kiradyns, and the Kiradyns killing the Tearians.”

Eyan leaned in closer. “That’s not people,
that’s demons.”

Dayn growled. “No, that’s Tearians.”

“How do ye know so much,” Eyan asked. “That
isn’t what the Written Word says.”

“I learned of it while we were in Tearia,”
Dayn said. “A friend—well, cousin actually—told us. He had
visions.”

Eyan looked horrified. “
Visions
?
That’s the Dark One’s work!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alicine snapped. “If
that were true, Dayn and I never would have found our way home.
Reiv told us how to get here, past the valley and all that. He’d
seen it in visions.”

Dayn turned and crossed to the other side of
the chamber, attempting to distance himself from further debate.
But as new images came into view, he became more and more
intrigued. These drawings held no semblance of order like the
others did. They were more like a kaleidoscope, a hodgepodge of
depictions that appeared to tell more than one story, or no story
at all. He ran his eyes over the scenes. There were elongated
swords and people tied to stakes, a sky turned black and…Dayn
shuddered; these were nothing like the stories Reiv had told him.
These were different—and far darker. Were they records of past
events, he wondered, or prophecies of the future? He prayed they
were only the hallucinations of a madman, for if there was any
truth to them, there existed an evil that no one could have
imagined. And it dwelt in Aredyrah.

He moved further down and discovered more
disturbing images. One in particular caught his attention; it
resembled a giant snake, writhing through the hills and
mountainsides of the island. He took a closer look and was relieved
to find it wasn’t a serpent, but a line of people. Dayn stepped
back, trying to gain a broader perspective, and it was then that he
realized the entire painting was a map of Aredyrah. It covered so
much of the wall that he had not initially recognized that the
images represented events and where they had occurred. The
mountains were easy to identify now, as was Tearia and Kirador. He
studied the snake-like line of people. They were moving northward,
from Tearia toward the valley he and Alicine had crossed. A
migration of people, but how many? He tried to calculate their
number, starting at the head of the line, but he suddenly realized
the leader had hair of a very distinctive nature—red. Red like
Reiv’s.

Dayn glanced over his shoulder at Alicine.
There was no need to show it to her, he reasoned, especially since
there was no way to interpret its true meaning. The images could be
of events that had happened in the past, not the future, and it
wasn’t like Reiv was the only person ever born with hair like that.
No, Dayn decided; he would not tell her, not now anyway. He would
steer her away from it…make some excuse…say they had to leave
or—