A Solitary Journey (24 page)

‘One day,’ Faith interrupted, his face alight with enthusiasm, ‘we will build a bigger one that can carry a man.’

‘Remember that “The mind of Jarudha is beyond any man’s comprehension”,’ Vision cited.

‘And “The challenge for all men of faith is to learn the truths that live in Jarudha’s eternal memory”,’ Reason retorted, smiling. ‘The signs of the Last Days are in these new Blessings, Your Eminence. Jarudha has let us see what is waiting for us in Paradise. He is giving us a chance to show others what miracles can be expected.’

‘The new thundermakers were successful,’ Vision reported. ‘The King’s ships easily defeated the Kerwyn navy.’

Reason looked at Faith and nodded. ‘We’ve discovered a more potent use for the magic powder,
Your Eminence. Come.’ He collected a lantern and led Vision and Faith out of the chamber and up a winding flight of stairs within a tower, emerging on a tower roof high above the temple dome. The palace and the city lights created a yellow aura in the night. Two acolytes stood beside a stone pedestal on which was mounted a fat, cylindrical metal tube that reminded Vision of a thundermaker, except for its pointed, sealed top. Lanterns lit the space and Reason put his on the parapet as the acolytes bowed in Vision’s presence. ‘This,’ Reason began, walking around the tube, ‘is a star-reacher.’

‘What does it do?’ Vision asked.

Reason selected a taper from several lying on the pedestal and opened a lantern to light the taper, saying, ‘Stand against the parapet, Your Eminence, and I will show you.’ Reason waited for the others to take safe positions before he applied the taper to a wick at the base of the star-reacher. Then he hurried back to stand beside Vision as the wick burned down. There was a whoosh, a vivid flash of light and flame, and the star-reacher shot vertically into the night and vanished. Vision stared in astonishment. Reason and Faith were chuckling with joy. ‘What do you think, Your Eminence?’

Collecting his composure, Vision looked again at the blackened pedestal. ‘Where did it go?’

‘To the stars,’ Reason replied.

‘A gift to Jarudha,’ Faith added.

‘We’ve made smaller ones that don’t travel so far,’ said Reason. ‘They’ll make interesting weapons if we need them.’

‘Can you send another one up?’ Vision asked.

Reason grinned. ‘Of course, Your Eminence.’ He ordered the acolytes to fetch another star-reacher.

‘This is an amazing Blessing—to be able to send
gifts directly to Jarudha,’ said Vision. ‘Who else has had this skill before us?’

‘We are indeed blessed,’ Faith chimed in.

‘Proof for everyone that we are in the Last Days. Paradise on earth is coming!’ Reason declared.

‘And we are what Diamond promised—the ones who will see the coming of Jarudha among us,’ Vision said quietly. ‘With or without a Conduit, we are the Chosen Ones.’

T
racking the escapee wasn’t as easy as she expected. He’d barely gained a hundred paces on her when he left the village, but in the forest he vanished as if he was a wild animal in his natural habitat. She knew he was hurt, bruised by Chi-hway’s attack, and she expected he wasn’t fully recovered from his last attempt to escape, so she was surprised that he had so quickly gone into hiding. The rain was her ally. In a few short hours it would work against her because his tracks would be melted by the rain, but for now his footprints were fresh in the wet and muddier patches so she began the patient task of trailing him in the manner she used to hunt animals in the bush and hills near her village with her brothers. Memories of her family flooded in, but she fought them as they leapt at her. She knew who she was. She knew what she had lost. But she could not afford to let the loss weigh her down. Not yet.

Her quarry’s trail was difficult to follow and she had to backtrack several times when she realised he’d sent her on false leads. He had an animal’s sense and a clever mind, and as she climbed the slopes above Ha-chet-shu in the rain she feared he was too elusive and she would lose his trail. She was also careful to check that Chihway
wasn’t following. His expression when she left him in the village gave no promise. It was somewhere between awe and curiosity—respect, bewilderment and determination. A voice within said that he wouldn’t follow. Another warned her to beware. She chose caution, but it hindered her search for A Ahmud Ki.

A Ahmud Ki’s trail meandered as he climbed, twice cutting across recognisable paths, but she quickly realised that he was inexorably circling above the village to the west. When she lost the trail again, she put Whisper down and sent the thought,
Find,
with the best image she could conjure of her quarry. Whisper sniffed, scurried around and retreated several paces before veering up a mossy bank. Meg spotted a vague footprint in the moss and smiled.
Good,
she told Whisper and followed the little animal.

She paused on a spur high above the village to catch her breath and to check if anyone was following, and gazed into the vista of The Valley of Kings. Grey clouds scudded across the shoulders of the surrounding mountains, hiding the higher snowy passes and peaks, and while the rain veil shrouded the distant features the valley’s green fertility was still awe-inspiring to her eyes that were accustomed to the drier yellows and dull greens and khaki hues of Western Shess. Whisper was squatting beneath a bush trying to dry her fur, and as Meg smiled at her tiny companion a memory materialised. ‘One day you’ll realise just what Whisper has done for you.’ Emma told her that a long time ago. Meg’s hand slid unconsciously inside her tunic to touch the faint ridge of the amber discolouration between her breasts as she watched the black bush rat lick her grey paws.
How long can a rat live?
she wondered.
Why is she black?

Whisper flinched and sat up.
Run,
she projected.

Meg looked around, expecting to see Chi-hway coming up the slope through the forest, but she heard a
sharp splash from behind and was hit by a weight that bore her sideways to the ground. She fought, certain by his weight that her attacker couldn’t hold her, but she landed awkwardly on the wet earth and could only wrestle herself onto her back. Above her was A Ahmud Ki, his gaunt face with the almond-shaped and piercing grey eyes pale and scared. He pinned her arms with his knees and held her wrists down with his hands. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Meg blurted. A black blur landed against A Ahmud Ki’s neck and he yelped as he rolled to his right, releasing his hold on Meg. ‘Whisper!’ she yelled as she scrambled to her feet and projected,
Stop.
A Ahmud Ki was slapping at his neck and his silver braids as he rose, but Whisper was poised several paces away on a flat rock ready to spring again.
No,
Meg repeated. Whisper held her place, black eyes fixed on A Ahmud Ki. ‘I want to help you,’ Meg said quickly.

‘You’ll bring the others,’ he said, backing towards the forest.

‘No. I’m alone. No one else is following.’ Her expression pleaded to him, but he eyed her warily as if he still intended to run. ‘I need to escape as well,’ she offered.

‘Where are you going?’

She hesitated.
Where am I going?
‘I was thinking of going east,’ she told him.

‘I thought you lived to the west.’

‘I did,’ she replied, ‘but there’s a war and my people have been beaten.’

‘By Mareg?’

‘By the Kerwyn,’ she corrected. He still hadn’t told her who Mareg was, she remembered. ‘But Mareg is their master.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know who their master is. A king from the north,’ she suggested, a vague memory of time spent with Queen Sunset kindling.

‘Mareg rules the north with the Haagii,’ said A Ahmud Ki. ‘Dylan didn’t defeat him after all.’

The names meant nothing to her, but the stranger seemed to know more than she did.
How could he know my world when he’s been lashed for so long to the dragon statue?
she pondered.

‘What are you thinking?’

She released the thought and shook her head. ‘We need to keep going.’

‘I thought you said no one was following you?’

‘Now,’ she countered. ‘Later, I’m not so sure. The further from the village we get before nightfall the less likely it will be that Chi-hway and his men will follow us.’

‘You tracked me like an Aelendyell,’ he said.

‘Like a what?’ she asked.

He looked at her as if her question surprised him. ‘Like the people of the forest.’

‘It’s just like hunting animals,’ she replied, ‘and I had Whisper’s help,’ she added, glancing at the bush rat.

‘So which way?’ he asked.

Meg looked into the rain-shrouded valley. To head east they would need to circumnavigate to the north or the south for half a day’s travelling. To the north mountains sealed the long valley and they could stay in the wild highlands. South they would have to go down to the valley floor and find a way across at least one river. ‘North,’ she said. ‘Then east.’

‘Why east?’ he asked.

‘It’s away from the war,’ she told him, and she had no intention of telling him it was also because of her recurring dream. Perhaps the secret to saving her children lay in the east.

They climbed higher and began the laborious journey of heading north through the thick mountainside
vegetation as the afternoon light waned and the rain tumbled. Meg, with Whisper tucked inside her sodden tunic for mutual warmth, carefully plotted their pathway, clambering over wet mossy rocks, tramping across streaming rivulets and frantic brooks, pushing through saturated fern fronds, wishing she’d had the sense to bargain with Chi-hway for a coat before leaving the village and chiding herself for thinking foolishly that bargaining was an option. They stopped frequently to shelter beneath the larger trees and rocky overhangs where they gathered their breath and energy before pushing on. A Ahmud Ki was obsessed with meticulously covering their trail until Meg convinced him that they were not being followed and that if they were Chi-hway would be able to track them regardless of A Ahmud Ki’s efforts. ‘This is his land,’ she argued when she caught A Ahmud Ki brushing away a half-footprint in a patch of mud. ‘I think he knows every leaf.’ After that, A Ahmud Ki followed her sullenly, as if his lust to escape had been drowned by the enduring rain.

There was no sunset. When darkness crept up from the valley floor Meg’s purpose altered to finding a dry place to sleep. She hoped to find a cave or a ledge with plenty of space for them both, but she had to settle on a grove of mountain ash whose dense canopy kept out the light and a small portion of the earth dry. The thick undergrowth stopped at the edge of the grove as if afraid to push inside, forming a low palisade around the perimeter.

Inside the grove the air was heavy with an animal smell. ‘I’m not sure it’s empty,’ Meg whispered as she hesitated, unable to see in the dark. Whisper shifted restlessly in her tunic and popped her head out.

‘It’s empty,’ A Ahmud Ki assured her. ‘The creatures left before we got here.’ She heard his light footfall
recede into the centre, the movement of someone confident despite the lack of light. ‘Coming?’ he asked. She lifted Whisper out of her tunic and put the rat down before she moved forward cautiously, only to trip on an exposed root, stumbling to stay upright. ‘Careful,’ A Ahmud Ki warned. ‘There are plenty of those.’ His answer made her uneasy because she didn’t know that he could see in the dark. She cupped a palm and called a light sphere into being, letting its soft white light spread until she could see the bare earth at her feet. The ground was veined with tree roots, some rearing like arched snakes before plunging back into the earth. ‘Warn me before you do that,’ A Ahmud Ki complained.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I couldn’t see enough to go any further.’ She let the light expand enough to glimpse A Ahmud Ki’s slender face and his grey eyes staring at her. His nose was bloodied and bruising was appearing. He looked away.

‘The light tells anyone where we are,’ he said gruffly.

Meg dimmed the sphere and let it drift to her ankles, but left enough glow to see the ground immediately ahead of her feet. ‘Just so I don’t trip,’ she said as she walked to the centre of the shelter. ‘This will do for sleeping.’ Whisper scampered across the light from darkness to darkness.

‘We’ll need food,’ A Ahmud Ki suggested as he walked around the edge of the grove, beyond the reach of Meg’s light. ‘We should travel at night after we’ve rested. The further we go now the harder it will be to follow us. Water won’t be a problem, not with this rain and the creeks we’ve seen already. What kinds of berries and fruit and nuts grow on these trees?’

Meg listened to the bodiless voice circling her, a voice with alien lilting tones using a language she’d never heard except in her dreams and since she’d freed him
from his bondage. The words reminded her of words she read a long time in her past—familiar words. ‘What does Ki mean?’ she asked.

‘It’s Ranu for power. It means magic,’ he answered as he continued walking in the dark. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘You wrote a book,’ she said quietly. She heard him stop.

‘I wrote lots of books,’ he said. ‘Which one?’
‘Destinies Determined.’

‘How do you know that? I haven’t told you anything about it.’

She heard the edge in his voice. ‘I read it in the Royal library, years ago,’ she explained.

‘In Andrakis?’

‘It was in Port of Joy.’

‘Never heard of Port of Joy,’ he retorted, and started walking again.

‘How can you walk around in the darkness without tripping?’ she asked.

He stopped again. ‘You say you’ve never heard of the Aelendyell?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘Well, not exactly. I read words in a book that your language reminds me of.’

‘But you’re speaking in Aelendyell now.’

‘I didn’t know that’s what it’s called.’

His tone and language changed. ‘And now? What am I saying?’

‘You just asked me what you were saying.’ He snorted. ‘Andrakian.’

‘And can you understand me?’ she asked in her Shessian tongue.

‘What language was that?’

‘My native tongue.’

She heard him approaching and his figure materialised at the edge of her dim light. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ he said. ‘You remind me of Seralinna,
only you’re taller and you’ve more talent—and—more beautiful.’

‘Who is Seralinna?’ He was silent and she sensed she’d asked a painful question. ‘How did you come to me in my dreams?’ she asked to change the topic.

‘You came to me,’ he answered, surprise in his voice. ‘I felt you watching from beyond the glyph many times. I tried to reach you when I felt your presence, but I couldn’t. You spoke to me first. Not even Mareg had such a presence. You are a Dragonlord. You have to be.’

‘I’m Meg Farmer,’ she said. ‘No,’ she corrected. ‘I’m Meg Kushel. I know who I was.’ She hesitated, her memory pushing another name to the fore. ‘They tried to call me Lady Amber, once, but that wasn’t me at all. Now, I don’t know who I am.’

‘Put out the light!’ A Ahmud Ki warned.

Meg dissolved the sphere and darkness swallowed her. She listened to the soft hiss of the rain on the canopy and undergrowth beyond. A warm ball of fur pressed against her ankle, making her realise how cold and wet she was. ‘Can you hear it?’

‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Listen.’

She concentrated, willing to hear beyond the rain, until the cadence of a voice—distant, mournful—emerged. ‘Someone is singing,’ she said quietly.

‘There,’ he said.

She had no idea of where he meant, the darkness complete. ‘Where?’

She jumped as he touched her shoulder. ‘Through there,’ he whispered. ‘The light.’

She couldn’t see a light, but she focussed her vision as she had her hearing, feeling a soft tingling along her spine, until she discerned a very faint glow, like the golden halo of a campfire from a distance. The singing
rose and fell on the soft breeze, words eluding her, teasing, like butterflies dancing out of reach on a sunny morning.

‘We need to move,’ he whispered.

She ignored him, focussing again on the ghostly voice until she heard a familiar phrase. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘They’re my people.’

A Ahmud Ki grabbed her arm. ‘No.’

She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but the song called to her. She shook her arm from his grip. ‘I don’t know how they got up here, but I’m going to see who it is.’

‘What if it’s a trap?’

‘Then you stay here. If it is a trap, I’ll deal with it.’ She smiled secretly at her bravado, but tripped on a root as she went to walk towards the light.

‘I’m coming,’ he said.

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘You wait here. I’ll come back for you.’ She moved through the grove carefully, feeling the ground with her feet until she was in the rain again. The firelight faded, vanished and reappeared as she crept through the trees, but the singing grew louder, until she could see the small group huddled for warmth around a tiny fire, sheltering beneath a ledge. There were five men in total, draped in rags and shabby coats—bearded, thin, dirty vagabonds. One, face dappled by the firelight, was singing.