Violya

Chapter 14 Violya

14

VIOLYA

Darrio.

V threw down her shovel and ran up the freshly cleared street to the Melokai’s enclosure. She dodged her way through warriors running towards the tiger procession. In the courtyard, Head Warrior Lizya was giving orders and then ran after her warriors.

“Lizya,” V shouted, and the Head Warrior turned on her heel.

“Where the zhaq have you been? Wait here. Warriors! Protect your Melokai. And you, find Monya and the Melokai’s clevercat.” Lizya turned and ran off, leaving V stood with a group of warriors forming up around her. V did not believe the Strongcats posed any threat, but Lizya was taking no chances.

Cats dashed from the courtyard and towards the procession. Others swarmed around her legs. Amya came bounding up and put her front paws on V’s waist before dropping down behind her. Monya sprinted from the building to stand next to her, relief etched across the youngblood guard’s features.

The procession came slowly up the street. Riats moved to each side and watched as they passed. The cats were yowling, hissing, meowing, and when the procession passed, they dipped their heads in respect, and then joined the trail of cats that were following behind.

At the head of the procession was Head Warrior Lizya. Behind her the tigers enclosed the two wolves. Lizya’s warriors formed a line either side and behind the tigers, in a typical protective barrier.

Lizya gestured and the warriors parted. The Head Warrior walked up to V, thumped her chest and stood closely by her side.

The head Strongcat approached. V could not see the wolves through the wall of tigers behind their leader. The tiger spoke in a language that V had never heard before.

V’s clevercat Amya said, “I can transssslate feline into Sssshella.”

“There’s no need,” V said. She understood the tiger’s words and replied in the same language. “Strongcat Otiss, welcome to Riaow. I am the Melokai of Peqkya. Melokai Violya. The Melokai before me, Ramya, was murdered. It is an honour to meet you.” V dipped her head and then showed the tiger her red palms.

“Sybilya has chosen you,” Strongcat Otiss said in his feline language of chuffs. “The honour is mine.” The tiger considered her, then said, “We bring the leader of the wolves to you, the Melokai of Peqkya, in peace.”

The leader of the wolves? Darrio was once a lone wolf.

V’s excitement bristled in her chest, but she remained passive, her face and body neutral. She watched closely as Otiss moved to one side, his tigers behind parting to show the two wolves.

Both unfurled to full height and walked a few steps closer to V. Her breath caught in her chest as she saw him. It had been more than a year since she had left him with their babies. Darrio.

He walked with a limp and had only one eye. So many more scars than when I last saw him. So many battles he must have fought.

Her eyes caught his. His eyebrows twitched and he blinked rapidly. He didn’t give anything away. Remained as impassive as her. He was following her lead here, and for that she loved him even more.

The second wolf caught her gaze. Taller than Darrio, and a head above V. Younger, certainly a female and with more human features than her father. She was the same rich brown as Darrio but with creamy fur around her head and shoulders. Her eyes were stunning: a glowing orange. She looked around her in wonder, obviously curious about everything those radiant eyes fell upon.

Sarrya? V thought abruptly.

“Yes?” came a reply. The female wolf’s head snapped to attention.

Both V and Sarry jerked, stood taller, stared more intently at one another.

“Are you speaking in my mind?” the female wolf said.

“Yes...” This was new to V. She had never heard another’s voice in her mind apart from Sybilya’s. “How are your brothers?” V asked suddenly.

“How do you know I have brothers?” Sarry replied, confused. Then she barked in surprise and the tigers around her prickled and scanned for danger.

Sarry’s mouth dropped open. “Are you my mother?”

“V,” Lizya said quietly in her ear, “this isn’t the best time for one of your reflective moments.”

V smiled broadly, wrenching her focus from the female wolf. “Welcome, I am the Melokai of Peqkya. Melokai Violya.” V repeated the greeting in the wolf language, in feline, and then in Shella.

Slowly Sarry raised her paws. The pads were a bright red. V’s eyes widened, and she heard Monya gasp. V raised her own poppy-red palms and Sarry looked sharply at her father, who nodded encouragement.

Sarry turned back to V, and in fluent Shella, said, “Melokai of Peqkya. I am Sarrya, daughter of Darrio, leader of the wolves. I come with my father to offer assistance. The Stone Prophetess has led me here.”

My daughter, just over a year old, is the leader of the wolves?

“Sarrya,” V said, “I am…” your mother? V looked at Darrio and he made the tiniest gesture: ‘She does not know. I haven’t told her’.

V regained her composure. “I am honoured to meet you and your father. What brings you to Peqkya? Not so long ago our peoples were fighting in Trequ Valley.”

“We have come to broker a truce between our peoples. We have come to offer our assistance,” Sarry said, still staring at V.

“Assistance for what, exactly?” Lizya said.

The Head Warrior was suspicious. The Strongcats were Sybilya’s, and all in Peqkya trusted the Stone Prophetess. So, all in Peqkya should trust the Strongcats. But they were known to be wild and unpredictable. Why had they brought the wolves here? What was their purpose? V knew Lizya wouldn’t rest until she had answers.

Sarry glanced again at Darrio and he encouraged her with a dip of his nose.

“There is trouble coming from the east,” she said. “We must unite the nations to fight it. Otherwise we fail. Peqkya is at the heart of these mountains, the centre of our known world. The enemies will pick off the limbs and then come for the heart. But if we all work together, we might succeed in driving them back. This the Stone Prophetess Sybilya has told me. Trouble will come from the east. And it comes for us all.”

She is far wiser than her years, V thought.

“We have more pressing trouble in the south right now,” Lizya said. “And the northern border with your kind is not exactly stable.”

“What is this truce you speak of?” V asked.

Sarry pressed her red pads together, and then dropped them to her sides. “Your kind killed our kind. And our kind has killed yours. Enough unnecessary bloodshed. We are neighbours. Let us live together peacefully. Let us share. There is enough land, water and prey to satisfy wolf and human bellies in the place you call Trequ Valley. Wolves once roamed that place south of the river, and they want to roam it again.”

“We can’t just forget the past,” Monya blurted. “Hundreds of Peqkians have died because of the wolves.”

Sarry considered Monya and swept her orange eyes across all of them one by one. “Why are we so ruled by our ancient pasts? Bloodshed and fighting has failed. Hundreds of wolves have died at Peqkian hands. Let us think to our future. We must fight together to survive the coming evil. So, let us live together. The wolves are bitter at losing the south Wul-Onr Valley. Give it back to them and keep it for yourself. We both win.”

“She sounds sensible. A bit like you,” Lizya said in a hushed tone in V’s ear.

V beamed inwardly at the intelligence and reasoning of her daughter. Coolly, she said, “I will think on it, Sarrya, leader of the wolves. Come, we should go and see the Stone Prophetess Sybilya.”

“The Strongcats will accompany you,” Otiss said in his feline language. “We have been too long away from Sybilya.”

V beckoned the wolves to walk with her in the direction of Inaly Lake as the tigers and warriors formed up around them. Otiss and Lizya headed the procession, talking amiably using Amya as a translator. Lizya’s hearty guffaws peppered their conversation.

They trudged through the deep snow as cats swarmed around their feet, getting in the way. The wolves snarled at them, swatting them away when they got too close.

“You’ll get used to them,” V said with a smile. “Cats are sacred in Peqkya.”

Darrio kept a few steps behind Sarry. V could see him out of the corner of her eye and knew precisely where he was. She wanted to talk to him, to embrace him, to learn of what had happened to him, and how Sarry had come to be in this position of power.

Sarry was quiet, glancing at V every now and then.

From behind, Darrio blurted, in fractured Shella, “Melokai Violya, how did you become Melokai?”

Sarry looked over her shoulder at her father, her face scrunched and in wolf speak said, “You know their language?”

Darrio shrugged off the question and V answered before Sarry pushed the point further. “I was chosen by the Stone Prophetess. A neighbouring country and some of our own traitorous people joined forces to attempt to overthrow our nation.”

“An enemy we must turn to our cause,” Sarry said, looking once more at the road ahead.

Darrio huffed behind V and she turned to look at him. A corner of his mouth twitched up in a grin. Her heart raced and she turned away, watching the road as her daughter did.

Otiss slowed to allow Sarry to catch him up. “Shall I tell you about Sybilya?”

Sarry nodded, and V slowed her pace to walk alongside Darrio. She longed to reach out to him. A strip of air crackled between them as her heart quickened. She was certain he felt the same.

She whispered in Shella, “I will tell them when the time is right. It is to protect you and Sarry. There is some hostility towards foreigners and the wolf war is not long finished.”

“I understand,” Darrio replied. “I will wait.”

V brushed her fingertips lightly past his paw.

“I’ve been thinking,” he whispered. “Have you considered that finding me was what you were meant to do? And having your babies was what Sybilya desired all along?” He nodded at Sarry who was raptly listening to Otiss.

V said nothing for a while. The shame of not exploring as Sybilya had bid her, eased. And an awareness dawned like a new morning. Was bringing Sarry and her brothers into the world my purpose all along? “I think you could be right,” she said in an undertone.

Sarry sniffed at the air as they paused at the foot of the Mount of Pines for Otiss and Lizya to give orders. The wolf glanced over her shoulder at her father. “Place from my dreams,” she said in the wolf language and gazed back at the path that snaked up the hill.

As they ascended, passing under the arches that led up to Sybilya’s hut, the tigers peeled away and disappeared into the pines, leaving only Otiss with them. Lizya had ordered all the warriors to wait at the bottom, including Monya. And so, two Peqkians, two wolves and a tiger made the journey up the hill.

“You are my mother, aren’t you?” Sarry’s voice sounded in V’s mind. She was walking in front of V with Darrio at her side. “I can feel it. I know it. I just seem to know things now. Pappy lied, he said you’d died.”

“Your father did what he believed was best for you. Forgive him.”

Sarry huffed in amusement in V’s mind. “There’s nothing to forgive. Would’ve been pretty hard to explain that one.”

In front, V watched as Sarry leaned in to lick the fluff around Darrio’s cheek. He snuffled her forehead tenderly.

“I’m thinking you’ve not told anyone either, huh?” Sarry said.

“No. That… is something I will need to do at the appropriate time.”

“A Peqkian mammy. I can’t quite believe it.” Sarry snorted out loud. “When will that time be?”

“We will tell them when the time is right. You must prove yourself on your own merit. Make the people love you. Respect is not down to bloodlines in Peqkya.”

V could sense Sarry angering.

The wolf’s shoulders tensed. “Prove myself?” Sarry’s voice was loud in V’s mind. “Sybilya chose me, I did not choose this! I don’t want to have to prove myself. I don’t want to be here. I want to be running around with my friend Ricarro and my brothers, playing with pine cones and catching rabbits.”

V’s voice was soothing, patient. “I did not want this either, daughter. I must prove myself to my people, to Sybilya. You must prove yourself worthy of Sybilya’s favour. I know you can do it, Sarry.”

But Sarry shut off the link between them and they climbed the hill in silence.

“Our great Sybilya is near the end,” Otiss said sadly from behind V.

It was too painful to reply but she could feel it. The Stone Prophetess’ presence that had filled them all with kindness and happiness, was shrinking. Retreating from their minds, their bodies, their world and curling into a tight ball.

In her mind’s eye, V saw this ball – now about the size of her fist – glowing bright. But it was shrivelling until finally it would be a mere pinprick in the world. And then…

Darrio and Lizya waited outside the hut whilst Otiss led V and Sarry inside, followed by a squall of cats.

Sarry was in awe, dropping down to her four paws and dipping her head low. V stood in front of the great lady and bowed. Otiss went up to Sybilya, put his paws on her stone knees and gazed intently into her eyes. Otiss smoothed his head around her neck, chuffing deeply. He licked her stone cheek once before jumping down and running from the hut with a keening roar.

Sybilya’s eyes, the only part of her not yet stone, looked at them.

“Sit, my children. There is little time. And I have much to tell you.” Sybilya’s frail voice echoed in V’s head, and she sat cross-legged on the hut floor. Sarry also sat, her back legs hunched, belly on the floor and front paws outstretched.

“Magic is found in the blood. When the right blood mixes, the magic comes alive. Not for many years has there been any mages with The Sight. One thousand years ago, mages were forced to fight by the warring Xayan tribe rulers at the Battle of Ashen. I turned both armies to stone so the mages’ blood, and the magic in it, was frozen in time.

“I knew the risks, and I took them. To end the cruel reign of men,” Sybilya hissed as she said the forbidden word, “magic had to be sacrificed. I saw a glimpse of the future when I looked out over that battle. The vision told me I would die when magic was reborn. I did not know when that would be, but I knew I would die. And I conjured the magic to turn all those thousands of males to stone anyway.

“The vision also showed me the consequences of my death. I have held the stone army for one thousand years in place by my magic. They are tied to my life. When I am gone, they will no longer be rooted to the ground. I do not know what they will do. I have had no sight on that. V, you must stop them, for they will endure forever and destroy everything in Peqkya if left unchecked.”

Sarry awkwardly cleared her throat to speak, but Sybilya’s voice continued.

“Your question, my child, is an important one, which I regret every moment of every day. Why did I turn them to stone and not kill them? I was young then. Foolish and reckless. I wanted to make those evil males suffer for all the suffering they had inflicted on the country of Xayy and its people. On women. I wanted to demonstrate my power, for so long mocked and shunned by the rulers of those very men.

“I should’ve killed them all. Instead I turned them to stone. But not completely.”

Sybilya’s voice paused. In V’s mind she said, “Yes, you did the same, V.”

V replied directly to Sybilya, keeping Sarry from hearing. “With Ammad. I toyed with him, wanted to punish him. But I should’ve ended him swiftly. I was young and foolish too.”

Sybilya blinked slowly. “Yes.”

She continued to them both, “There is still a flicker of life in the stone soldiers. An awareness of what they have become. For one thousand years they have stood as still as statues, but their minds have been active. They do not remember what or who they were, have no memory of their lives before the battle. It has been a slow, awful torture. But I tied my fate to theirs.”

“Is that why you’re stone too?” Sarry said.

“Yes. The magic I mustered to turn them to stone and to keep them that way has slowly infected my own body. For the glory of Peqkya, for a new way of life ruled by women, I sacrificed myself.”

A wave of sadness washed over V.

“You are both young. The magic takes years of mastery. You have it in you, but neither of you are aware of what you are capable of. The power varies, the visions of the future, the awareness of what is to come and who to trust.”

Sybilya’s voice faltered and the ball of light contracted to the size of V’s thumbnail.

“No,” Sarry shouted and stood to all fours.

“I saw a vision of my death. My time would end when the three discovered their magic. That time has come. The third has awakened.”

“Three?” V said. “Who is the third?”

Faintly, rasping, grasping for every word, Sybilya said, “A peen. You must save him from corruption, V… hurry… hurry.”

The Stone Prophetess’ voice trailed off and her eyes glazed. Sarry fell into V’s arms and they held each other as they watched the grey stone creep inwards, across Sybilya’s pupils and meet with a faint clunk at the bridge of her nose.

A desperate, but emphatic “Go!” sounded in their minds.

V and Sarry bounded from the hut.

“Move,” V shouted to Darrio and Lizya.

The group ran down the hill, under the arches and came to a halt at the foot of the hill. With their sudden arrival, Lizya’s warriors pulled their swords, alert to danger. They looked around and up the path to see what might be chasing them, ready to engage.

A cracking, hissing sound met their ears and the arches ignited, each sizzling and spitting as fire consumed them. A snake of flames wound up the hill as the fire jumped from arch to arch.

It danced towards Sybilya’s hut and then consumed it fully. The hut burned brighter than the rest.

Cats came dashing down the hill, away from the fire and towards the city, their fur on end. The sound of their wailing choked the air, mingling with the smoke.

A huge emptiness swept through V and she fell to her knees in the snow, clutching her chest, her belly, her head. Something was missing. A part of her was gone. She felt hollow.

Lizya and the warriors dropped to the ground, grasping and clenching at their bodies in the same manner as V. Sarry let out a painful howl and collapsed.

Darrio stared, baffled. He was the only one not affected by the loss of the great lady. He looked desperately from V to his daughter, one writhing in agony, the other still on the ground. He went to his daughter, nibbled at her fur, attempted to rouse her.

Cats gathered around the fallen wolf, mithering at her fur and mewing. They surrounded V, desperately scuffing away the snow to rub their bodies against hers for comfort.

***

Even in the furthest corners of the country, every Peqkian felt the death of Sybilya. A huge hole wrenched open in their hearts. A part of themselves lost forever.

For seven days the fire blazed up the hill, consuming the arches and the hut. It jumped to nearby trees and scorched the earth.

No one spoke, barely were they able to move or to eat. The city was still, the people in a daze.

When the fire finally died away, a charred path led up the Mount of Pines to a blackened area where the hut once stood. The heavy winter snow did not settle on this scorched earth. It would forever burn, like the charred earth in the Ashen Valley. Snowflakes sputtered and steamed to nothing before they could touch down.

In the centre was Sybilya the Stone Prophetess. Now an unliving, stone statue, looking out over Inaly Lake and the city of Riaow. And when the clouds cleared, the sun illuminated breathtakingly beautiful snow-capped mountains.