Tales of Wind and Fire: Spirit Savior b.3

Chapter 1

Bennu didn't want it to be a omen.
He didn't want it to be anything more than a black Phoenix feather lying in the snow. So he ignored it. That was his first mistake.
Quietly, he circled his opponent, keeping a keen mutual gaze among them. Cybil had a blunt rapier with her, one she used to spar, and he a wooden katana. Like him, she was hungry, having eaten nothing since a slip of dried deer meat for day meal.
Unlike him, she hadn't seen the black Phoenix feather.
So don't tell her, he thought.
That was his second mistake.
A few paces away, Mystigan was sniffing at a patch of reindeer droppings. His ears were pricked, his snowy white fur fluffed up with excitement. If he sensed Bennu's unease, he didn't show it. Another sniff, then he raised his muzzle to catch the scent-laden breeze and his Sapphire gaze grazed Bennu's. Smells bad.
Bennu tilted his head. What do you mean? He asked in spirit-tongue.
"Focus!" Called Cybil. She was eager to train and hunger gave her a temperament.
Bennu fixed his eyes on her and readied his training sword. Cybil won most of their sparring matches, because Bennu found it impossible to keep up with her quick strikes. When she lashed out, he could barely see the tip of her sword. The bouts that he did manage to win were usually due to his better footwork. He had much more physique than Cybil, and if he managed to—by some form of blind luck—keep up with her initial assault, he could try and sweep her by the leg or grapple her.
They were surrounded by Black oaks and silvery beeches glittered with frost. Here and there, Bennu saw the crimson blaze of holly berries; the deep green of a wakeful spruce standing guard over its slumbering sisters. The Forest was hushed. The rivers were frozen. Most of the birds had flown south.
Except for that black Phoenix, thought Bennu.
He knew it was a Phoenix feather from the furry upper side, which muffled the sound of flight when the Phoenix was hunting. If it had been the red and orange color of the normal Bird of Fire, he wouldn't be worried, he'd simply give it to Cybil, who would have sewn it to her parka. A Phoenix was the guardian of her guild, FlashFire.
But this feather was black, and Bennu knew there was no such thing as a black Phoenix. It made him feel uneasy.
A movement caught his eye, but when he realized what it was, it was too late: Cybil had lunged in and struck him hard on the side.
"Ouch! I was—"
"Distracted?" She asked, "What's bothering you so much?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, "Nothing, I'm just a bit hungry, that's all."
Gripping his training sword, he fixed his gaze on her again. She moved back into position.
A gust of wind stirred the beeches around them, and last summer's leaves rustled like dry, dead hands.
He swallowed. He tried to keep his focus on Cybil, but It felt as if the Forest were trying to tell him something. Cybil lashed out, but this time he was ready: He moved his katana to block her rapier, but the quick flicks of her wrist combined with the thin flexibility of her blade gave her leverage, and the tip of her training sword managed to graze his sword hand. With a flawless motion, Bennu bent down and placed all his weight on his left leg, sweeping his right to trip her. It didn't work, she managed to jump back a heartbeat before impact. This bought him some space to repose with a fluent sideways slash to her side. Even If she'd tried to parry: the force would have knocked her over; but with the mobility of a lynx, Cybil managed to evade, the sword missing her with a hair's length.
"Not bad!" She said, backing up underneath a sleeping oak. Suddenly a branch shifted, and a flurry of snow hissed down. Bennu glanced up. His heart jerked. A Phoenix as black as basalt. It's orange eyes were like twin suns.
Those eyes sent ripples through his memories...
The demon Phoenix he fought all those winters ago...
With a cry he leapt backwards.
Cybil's rapier punched his stomach, knocking out his breath. He fell to his knees. He tried to yell out a warning, but only managed pathetic gasps as he tried to regain his air. The Phoenix spread its enormous wings and silently flew away.
"What were you doing?" Shouted Cybil furiously. "We didn't come here to do sight seeing! If we want to vanquish the Saviors, you're going to have to learn to fight!"
Bennu didn't reply. He watched the Black Phoenix soar into the fierce blue of the noonday sky. But Phoenixes, he thought, should have all left on their mysterious winter journey to the south by now, avoiding the seasonal lack of sunlight.
Mystigan came bounding through the trees and skittered to a halt beside him, shaking off snow and lashing his tails. Sensing Bennu's unease, he rubbed against him. Bennu knelt, burying his face in the deep, coarse scruff; breathing in Mystigan's familiar, sweet-grass scent.
"What's wrong?" Said Cybil.
Bennu raised his head. "That Phoenix, of course."
"What Phoenix?"
He blinked. "But you must have seen it. The Black Phoenix, it was so close I could have touched it!"
When she still looked blank, he ran up the hill, and found the feather. "Here," he panted, holding it out.
Mystigan flattened his ears and growled.
Cybil put her hand to the orange, Phoenix-guardian feathers on her chest.
"What does it mean?" Said Bennu.
"I don't know, but it's bad. We should get back. Kai will know what to do. And Bennu-" she eyed the feather, "leave it here."
As he threw it in the snow, he wished he hadn't picked it up with his bare hand. A fine grey powder dusted his palm. He rubbed it off on his parka, but his skin carried a whiff of rottenness that reminded him of the FlashFire's bone grounds.
Suddenly Mystigan gave a grunt, and pricked his ears. "What's he smelt?" Said Cybil. She didn't know Spirit-tongue, but she knew Mystigan.
Bennu frowned. "I don't know." Mystigan's rainbow colored nine-tails were high, but he wasn't giving any of the prey signals Bennu recognized.
Strange prey, Mystigan told him, and he realized that Mystigan was puzzled, too.
An overwhelming sense of danger swept over Bennu. He gave an urgent warning bark. "Uff!" Stay away!
But Mystigan was off, racing up valley in his tireless slope. "No!" Shouted Bennu, floundering after him.
"What's the matter?" Cried Cybil. "What did he say?"
"Strange prey," said Bennu.
With growing alarm, he watched Mystigan crest the ridge and glance back at them. He looked magnificent: his thick winter pelt a rich white that blended in with the snow, his tails an ever shifting canvas of colors.
Follow me, pack-brother! Strange prey!
Then he was gone.
They followed as fast as they could, but they were burdened with packs and sleeping-sacks, and the snow was deep, so they had to use their wicker snowshoes, which slowed them even more. When they reached the top, Mystigan was nowhere to be seen.
"He'll be waiting for us," said Cybil, trying to be reassuring. She pointed to a thicket of aspen. "Soon as we get down into that, he'll pounce."
That made Bennu feel a little better. Only yesterday, Mystigan had hidden behind a juniper bush, then leapt out and knocked him into a snowdrift, growling and play-biting till Bennu was helpless with laughter.
They reached the aspens. Mystigan didn't pounce.
Bennu uttered two short barks. Where are you?
No answer.
His tracks were plain enough, though. Several guilds hunted here, and all used dog's. A dog runs haphazardly, because he knows his master will feed him, whereas a kitsune runs with a purpose: he must find prey, or starve. And although Mystigan had been with Bennu and the FlashFire guild for the past seven months, Bennu had never given him food, for fear of blunting his hunting skills.
The afternoon wore on, and still they followed his trail: a straight line slope, in which the hind paws trod in the prints of the forepaws.
    "We're getting quite far north," said Cybil.
They were about a day walk from the FlashFire-guild, which lay south-west, by the Widewater river.
    Again Bennu barked. Where are you?
    Snow drifted from a tree, pattering onto his hood. The stillness after it settled seemed deeper than before.
   As he watched the gleam die on a cluster of holly berries, he sensed that the day was on the turn. Already the brightness was fading from the sky, and shadows were stealing out from under the trees. A chill crept into his heart, because he knew that the descent into darkness had begun.
    The guilds call this the nightmare time, because it's in winter, when the barrier between the world and the realm of nightmares are at its thinnest. Sometimes, nightmares flit through the barrier to cause havoc and despair. It only takes one to taint a whole valley; and although Mages keep watch, they can't kill them all. Nightmares are easy to distinguish, they are monstrous and only live to kill and snuff out whatever light they could find.
   It was at this moment, at the nightmare time, that Bennu knew the omens had come true. Mystigan hadn't howled a reply because he could not. Because something had happened to him.
  Evil visions flashed through Bennu's mind. What if Mystigan tried to bring down a nightmare on his own? He was still young, he could easily overestimate his power.
  The trees cracked. More snow thudded down.
    Bennu put his hands to his lips and howled. Where—are—you?
  No reply.
  Cybil gave him a worried smile; but in her dark eyes he saw his own anxiety. "The sun's going down," she said.
     He swallowed. "In a while the moon will be up. There'll be enough light to track."
    She gave a doubtful nod.
    They'd gone another few paces when she turned aside. "Bennu! Over here!"

*************

Whoever had caught Mystigan had done it with the simplest of traps. They'd dug a pit, and hidden it with a flimsy screen of snow-covered branches.
      That wouldn't have held him for long, but in the churned-up snow around the pit, Bennu found shreds of braided rawhide. 'A net,' he said in disbelief. 'They had a net.'
    'But – no spikes in the pit,' said Cybil. 'They must have wanted him alive.'
     This is a bad dream, thought Bennu. I'm going to wake up, and Mystigan is going to come loping through the trees.
     That was when he saw the blood. A shocking red spatter in the snow.
     "Maybe he bit them,' muttered Cybil. 'I hope he did, I hope he bit their hands off!"
   Bennu picked up a tuft of bloody fur. His fingers shook. He forced himself to read the snow.
    Mystigan had approached the pitfall warily, his tracks changing from a straight-line lope to a walk, in which front and hind prints showed side-by-side. But he'd approached just the same.
    Oh Mystigan, said Bennu silently. Why weren't you more careful?
    Then it struck him that maybe it was his friendship with Mystigan that had made him more trusting of people. Maybe this was his fault.
      He stared at the trampled trail that led north. Ice was forming in the tracks. Mystigan's captors had a head start.
     'How many sets of prints?' said Cybil, staying well back, as Bennu was by far the better tracker.
      'Two. The bigger man's prints are deeper when he ran off.'
      'So – he was carrying Mystigan. But why take him at all? No-one would hurt Mystigan. No-one would dare.' It was strict guild law that no harm should be done to any of the spirits in the Forest.
    'Bennu,' she called, crouching behind a clump of juniper. 'They hid over here. But I can't make out –'
      'Don't move!' warned Bennu.
      'What?'
       'There, by your boot!'
      She froze. 'What – made that?'
      He squatted to examine it.
      His mother had taught him tracking, and he thought he knew every print of every creature in the Forest; but these were the strangest he'd ever seen. Very light and small, like a bird's – but not. The hind tracks resembled tiny, crooked, five-clawed hands, but there were no front prints, only two pock-marks: as if the creature had been walking on stumps.
   '"Strange prey",' murmured Bennu.
     Cybil met his eyes. 'Bait. They used it as bait.'
He stood up. 'They went north, towards the valley of the Axehandle. Where could they go from there?'
    She threw up her hands. 'Anywhere! They could've turned east for Lake Axehead, and kept going all the way to the Spirit Mountains. Or doubled back south, for the Deep Forest. Or west, they could be halfway to the Sea by now -'
      Voices, coming their way.
     They ducked behind the junipers. Cybil readied her rapier, and Bennu drew his katana from his belt.
    Whoever it was, they were making no attempt at stealth. Bennu saw a man and woman, followed by a large dog dragging a sled on which lolled a dead roe buck. A boy of about eight summers plunged eagerly ahead, and with him, a younger dog with a deerhide saddle-pack strapped to his belly.
     The young dog caught Mystigan's scent on Bennu, gave a terrified yelp, and sped back to the boy, who halted. Bennu saw the guild-tattoo between his eyebrows: three slender black ovals, like a permanent frown.
     Cybil breathed out. 'Willow Guild! Maybe they saw something!'
     'No!' He pulled her back. 'We don't know if we can trust them!'
     She stared at him. 'Bennu, these are Willows! Of course we can!' Before he could stop her, she was running towards them, both fists over her heart in sign of friendship.
    They saw her and broke into smiles. They were returning to their guild in the west, the woman explained. Her face was scarred, like birch canker, marking her as a survivor of last summer's sickness.
     'Did you meet anyone?' said Cybil. 'We're looking for -'
      '"We"?' queried the man.
      Bennu stood up. 'You've come from the north. Did you see anyone?'
    The man's eyes flicked to Bennu's guild-tattoos, and his eyebrows rose. 'We don't meet many Ninetails Guild these days.' Then to Cybil, 'You're young to be so far from your camp.'
    Cybil bridled. 'We're both thirteen years old.  And we have the Leader's leave –'
     'Did you see anyone?' broke in Bennu.
      'I did,' said the boy.
     'Who?' cried Bennu. 'Who was it?'
The boy drew back, startled by his intensity.
     'I– I'd gone to find Snapper.' He pointed at his dog, who gave a faint wag of his tail. 'He likes chasing squirrels, but he gets lost. Then I saw them. They had a net, it was struggling.'
     So he's still alive, thought Bennu. He'd been clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms.
    'What did they look like?' said Cybil.
    The boy stretched his arm above his head. 'A huge man. And another, small, with bandy legs.'
    "What about their guild-tattoos?' said Bennu. 'Guild-Guardian skins? Anything!'
     The boy gulped. 'Their hoods were up, I didn't see their faces.'
   Bennu turned to the Willow man. 'Can you take a message to Kai?'
    'Whatever it is,' said the man, 'you should tell him yourself. The Leader of FlashFire is wise, he'll know what to do.'
'There's no time,' said Bennu. 'Tell him that someone has taken Mystigan. Tell him we're going to get him back."