It was her hand that woke her with a dull, incessant throbbing. She came to reality slowly, forcing back the fog of sleep. It took her a moment to remember who she was and where she was, and then a moment longer to realise that Deryk, who usually slept curled up next to her, was absent. This startled her into a further state of awareness. Where had he gone? Her fingers tingled and as she glanced upon them, she fancied she saw the veins within were shimmering ever so faintly. Needless to say, this rather unnerved her and roused her further. Hugging her book close she drew herself into a crouch.
"Aeturnis my dear," a voice came from nowhere, a soft voice that was achingly familiar.
"Mother?" Aeturnis whimpered. "Is this a dream?"
"Insofar as life is a dream," her mother's voice replied and Alianna Christie now appeared before her, translucent as though spun from gossamer threads, but there, nevertheless. "Trust the minstrel," she said, "not the warrior. His way lies only suffering. Oh, my poor daughter." And for a moment a star flickered brightly, a tear in her mother's ethereal eye.
And then she was gone, leaving Aeturnis feeling more lost then ever before - her cheeks stained wet with tears. It was then she heard the voices.
"So you really think she's the one then?" It was a stranger's voice with a slightly croaky edge to it.
"Yes," came Deryk's voice. "There is no doubt about it. She is the one of which the Prophecy spoke."
"Interesting. She seems so… timid."
"Oh, she is. She is a pathetic little weakling and I must confess, I seriously had my doubts until that Dog-boy asked her to sing."
He sighed, his words had left Aeturnis shaking and with an aching chill inside. Pathetic weakling indeed. She crawled closer, holding her book tight.
"Not that her voice was anything special," the Meerkat continued, pushing the knife in deep. "But there was a hint of magick there. For a few moments, we were swept into a rather powerful illusion. Quite impressive in one untrained."
"Bring her to me." The voice commanded, "I must see her with my own eyes and lay my hands against her soul. If she is the one of which the Prophecy spoke, then she shall now become my puppet."
"Sir," and she actually heard Deryk gulp. "Would it not be better if I were just to kill her now? She sleeps and it would be swift and easy. She trusts me."
"You grow weak. Me thinks you have developed some affection for the girl. You seek for her the easy escape. Whilst my other minions grow strong, you grow weak." And the stranger laughed then, a horrible giggling-cackle.
"I do not grow weak," Deryk sounded almost childish in his defensiveness. "It is you I fear for, Sir. Would it not be easier to merely kill her here and now, lest the prophecy come true?"
"No!" The mysterious speaker roared, or rather cawed, "in this situation, death is not the answer. Bring her to me and I shall deal with her accordingly. Now begone before I remove your eyes from their sockets."
Aeturnis huddled back in her blanket, feigning sleep. If she ran now she would not get far. Her only chance lay in sneaking away whilst Deryk slept. Pretending to be asleep proved very difficult when her heart was racing like a cheetah on speed and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She caught the briefest glimpse of something white flapping off into the night, before she turned her face away and closed her eyes. A moment later she heard Deryk's footsteps and was aware of him wrapping himself up in the blanket beside her.
She waited for a while, certain the rapid pounding of her heart would alert him to her state, concentrating only on breathing slowly and deeply, as though she were asleep. Eventually she risked a peek. Deryk was lying there, sleeping the sleep of the innocent (although she knew now that he was not). One sword lay beside his bed, just under his sprawling hand and the other was off slightly to the side, the side nearest her. It would be easy enough for her to grasp it and stab him as he slept, just as he would do to her. For an eternity she lay there, staring at the sword, fingers tensed ready to reach out and take it. She inched forward, still feigning sleep and felt her fingers brush against the blade. It would be so easy, so simple.
But she could not do it. It was not in her.
With a deep sigh she rolled aside and lay watching the sky lighten towards dawn.
Close to dawn she stirred once more, dragging herself from her bed, stiff and sore. She must leave now, if she were to leave at all. Must leave, make her way to Johann's caravan, and ask them to depart before daybreak. It was a clumsy plan and full of holes, but it was the best she could manage on short notice.
Her movement woke the Meerkat and he stared up at her blearily. "Where are you going?" He asked, his speech slurring.
She fidgeted and blushed, "I need to answer a call of nature," she replied. Her heart was fluttering madly and she fought the urge to run. To show her weakness now would expose her knowledge.
"Oh," he muttered, and rested his head back on his arms, eyes closed.
She darted off before he could comment further. It did not take her long to find Johann and Fately's wagon. A scrawny Jerboa boy was harnessing the snorting Zebu. He flashed a grin at her as she approached.
"I need to speak to Johann," she said, without introduction.
"Master Johann, he not well this morning," the Jerboa replied. "He got sickness in stomach. We leave straightaway, no talk."
"Please," Aeturnis begged, "Johann said he'd take me with him. To Tirra-Inle. I need to come with you."
"Get in then," came a gruff voice from the recesses of the wagon. She glanced up and saw Fately glaring at her. "If you're coming."
As she scrambled across to enter the wagon motion caught her from the corner of her eye. A fairly large, white bird glided past, landing in a nearby tree. There was something unerringly intelligent in the beady, black eye that regarded her. Then it cawed and flapped away.
She put her foot onto the bottom step and then froze, for behind her she could hear footsteps.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Deryk, strutting towards the wagon. His swords hung at his belt and in one hand he held a small corked flask, which he was tossing idly in the air. "You would not be leaving without a word of 'farewell' would you my dear? Abandoning me to a lonely journey to Eriwyn?"
Aeturnis gulped, so cold inside she could barely move. "Nuh-no." She managed.
"I would miss your company," Deryk continued. "I beg you to reconsider." He tossed the flask from one hand to the other, fumbling it and almost dropping it. He caught it deftly and rubbed his hand across his forehead in mock stress. "Phew that was lucky," he said, "do you know what's in the flask, Aeturnis?"
She shook her head, not daring herself to speak. From behind her came a dry hacking cough that went on far too long and was followed by some great, heaving gasps as though one were struggling for breath.
"Oh, poor Johann," Deryk balanced the flask on one finger letting it fall into his palm. "Caught himself a nasty cough." He shook his head sadly. "Very nasty business. I'm sure he'd be glad to know that here I have the cure." And he threw the flask high into the air, catching it just before it struck the ground. "Oh, and should I mention, that this is the only cure. And it is more then just a nasty cough. So, Aeturnis my dear, you will be coming with me now, I trust."
She gulped, staring at the wild, confused eyes of the Faun and heard another racking cough from inside the caravan. "You promise it'll cure him?" She asked.
"Nothing else will," he replied.
"Then I'll come with you." She could not even look up and could not meet Fately's eyes. Fately didn't know whom he was dealing with. Not that she did either - but she had been betrayed too much recently. "Give the flask to that Jerboa boy."
"Of course, milady," Deryk gave an exaggerated, mocking bow and then presented the flask for the boy to come and collect. The lad rushed back into the caravan, pushing past Aeturnis and clutching his precious burden close.
Head down, Aeturnis made her way to Deryk and stood beside him. He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "That's a good girl," he said. "Now, please I would beg you not to try that sort of stunt again. I would hate to have to hurt anyone around you. Although I must say, I can understand why you would prefer to ride in that wagon to walking any further. I trust your feet are up to the walk?" He did not give her time to answer but merely pushed her on before him, marching her smartly onwards. Soon the caravans were left far behind. So little regard did he have for her spunk, he did not even consider it necessary to restrain her at all. She bit her lip to hold back the tears.
"You know what the ironic thing is?" He said conversantly, once they had walked about an hour down the road. "That you were foolish enough to believe that I would actually give him the cure." He sniggered. "When instead I gave him another dose of the same medicine that is killing him." He sighed and shook his head, "the naivette of some people is tantamount to stupidity. So now you have another fatality to add to your list. I hope you're keeping score, your mother - who had to work the Deadlands to feed her little bastard-kit, that foxy boy - not to mention the rest of his merry friends and of course, your father."
Her ears flattened and her step faltered.
"No, no my dear, don't let depression cease your progress. We have a long walk before us if we're to meet the others afore nightfall. And you wouldn't want to be late for the meeting, would you? They're so eager to meet with you."
But his words fell on deaf ears. Aeturnis was gone, lost so deep into her own grief and self-loathing that his cruelty could no longer hurt her. She was sinking, and sinking fast. Her legs folded beneath her and she crumpled to the ground as a seizure took hold.
There was a flash of blue and pink and a flutter of a white wing, parting the way to reveal a great cloud of black smoke in the shape of a gigantic mushroom and from this mushroom cloud unfurled a great taloned claw, lunging for the ground and ravaging it, clawing deep ravines. Where the talons smote, the ground froze and thick white flakes tumbled from the sky. Then the whole scene seemed to pull back, as though she were watching it from afar and she saw herself, lying naked in the Deadlands, one bloodstained hand clawing at the ground.
Then something slapped against her face and she blinked back to the horrors of reality.
"What in Valliklaw's name is wrong with you?" Deryk snarled, his charming, pretentious façade lost to confusion and anger.
Aeturnis merely clung her head and moaned. The sunlight seemed too bright and it was all too hot. She had fallen to the ground, but made no effort to stand up.
Grasping her roughly, Deryk jerked her to her feet. "Don't force me to carry you, my dear," he said. "And please do try to make haste. My friends shall be most displeased if we are late."
At those words the white raven swooped from the sky, circling them once before alighting on Deryk's shoulder. It glared at him balefully.
"Stop dawdling, fool," it squawked, only it was not quite a squawk. It was the voice Deryk had spoken with the night before.
"Meet Wraith," Deryk said, reaching towards the bird's bullet-shaped head with one finger. The raven snapped at him angrily. "Not the most sociable of birds. Do you know what they call a flock of ravens?"
Aeturnis was not really in the right state of mind to answer such a question.
"A murder." Deryk answered for her.
This made the raven laugh. It had a horrible cackling laugh that didn't sound like any bird Aeturnis had ever imagined. "An unkindness, you thickhead," it snapped, and bit the Meerkat on the ear. "Now if you're not by Valliklaw's Hand by nightfall, I shall remove the eyes from your head."
Deryk's eyes narrowed, as blood trickled down the side of his face. He clasped his hand over his bleeding ear. "Randolph Flynn," he growled, "I'll break your bloody bird's neck if it's the last thing I do."
"And it will be." The bird cackled, and flapped away.
"Blasted beast," Deryk snapped, wiping blood from his streaming ear. "One day Randolph will get his comeuppance, you mark my words." He shook his fist at the departing bird, which cackled in laughter. "Now you," and he shoved Aeturnis forward, "entertainment is over my dear, it is time for us to march on. Wouldn't want to upset his lordship, would we just?"
Aeturnis hung her head and moved onwards.