Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series, page 11
‘He is, but he travels through the spaces between the stars: these ships travel on top of the waters of the great sea.’
Sket was aghast. ‘Will we have to travel on one of those things?’
‘I’m not sure. Unless Brin can fly from coast to island to island comfortably, then I think it will be your only option.’
Pallin scowled as darkly as Sket.
‘I think the ships take five or six days from the harbour in the south to the nearest island,’ Grek continued.
‘Five or six days, in one of those boxes?’ Sket sounded ill already.
‘We have no coin,’ Gan pointed out. ‘Surely we would need to pay to be carried across the water to the islands? And you said there are many islands, which means many gaps between them to be crossed.’
‘I have been trying to resolve that difficulty,’ admitted Grek. ‘So far I have been unsuccessful. From talk I heard around the harbour, some people who have no means to pay – “work their passage” it was called.’ The unbodied entity sounded extremely dubious. ‘I cannot see any of you being able to do that. The people are so used to the sea, to ships and to smaller boats. Even children were dashing about on the water.’
The party walked on, all deeply thoughtful.
Chapter Nine
A day later, the lake beside their route began to narrow and flow faster. Grek had not replied when Tika called his name so they presumed he was seeking ahead again. When they made camp the second evening, the gijan sprawled in a tangled heap on Seela’s back, fast asleep. Brin had not returned but Farn was content with Storm’s company and did not fret for the crimson Dragon.
‘I will ask Grek if Tika and Ren could perhaps wear the white cloaks in the coastal town,’ Maressa said. ‘If they kept the hoods up and their eyes down, surely they would be safe among us?’
Gan stretched his long legs towards the fire. ‘I had thought that too. I would prefer we were together and the Dragons and gijan could stay out of sight well enough. Few people bother to look up at the sky for very long, so if the Dragons flew high enough, they would seem merely large birds.’
Farn’s eyes whirred pearl and sapphire. ‘We could be with you quickly if you should have need of us of course.’
‘I’d like to stay with you and see this town for myself,’ Tika admitted.
Ren nodded. ‘As would I. I have seen only your town of Far in Sapphrea and that only briefly.’
‘This place sounds much bigger than any I’ve heard of,’ Olam remarked. ‘They must have a great amount of farmland around it, to feed such a large number of people.’
‘There were about twelve thousand people in the town of Syet,’ Ren said. ‘On market days and festivals it seemed as though half the world was packed into the streets. This town Grek describes sounds a lot bigger than Syet.’
The company lounged in comfortable silence, all trying to imagine twelve thousand people collected in one place.
Grek returned two days later to warn of a tiny village ahead. Gan explained their notion to allow Tika and Ren to continue with them, wrapped in their Qwah cloaks. Grek was cautious.
‘It might work. At least you’ll have a chance to put it to the test in this village you’re approaching. There are six small houses, a couple of barns and sheds, only a handful of men and their wives and children. But be on your guard.’
The river beside which they walked had greatly deepened its channel now and rushed in a foaming torrent to the south. They followed its course as close as they could, occasionally having to climb over outcrops of white rock whose sides reached smooth and glassy down below the water. Tika and Ren already wore their cloaks fortunately because, reaching the top of one such outcrop, they discovered two men below them on the other side.
A plough stood idle, harnessed to two odd looking animals while the men stood, feet apart and drawn swords in their hands. Riff and Olam were in the lead and halted at once. Olam held his hands well clear of his weapons.
‘Stars give you good day,’ he called. ‘We intend no harm and would hope to receive none.’
As he spoke, Gan and Tika came over the boulders. An odd pair – one enormously tall and thin, the other child sized, swathed in a white hooded cloak. The others were pressing behind them now having heard Olam call out. The two men below stared in astonishment, their jaws sagging. They looked quickly at each other and sheathed their swords.
‘Greetings strangers,’ one said. ‘Sometimes the wild tribes venture this far and steal from us. And worse.’
He spoke the Common Tongue but thickly accented: the r’s rolled and the s’s sibilant. Ren stood beside Tika and Gan now and it was apparent that the two men in the field stared hardest at the white cowled figures of Ren and Tika. Olam and Riff jumped down the last part of the bank. One of the men was unhitching the two animals from the plough: now he bowed towards Tika and Ren.
‘Would you ride to our village and accept guest rights from our families?’
Gan towered over Tika and smoothly replied on her behalf. ‘We all prefer to walk but we would gratefully accept your hospitality.’
The men exchanged glances again. The one now holding the animals by their reins put his free hand flat against his chest.
‘I am Zenidor and this is my brother Vanim.’ He gestured southwards. ‘Our homes are not far.’
‘What are these animals?’ Tika’s voice was soft and emanated from the depths of her hood.
Zenidor’s eyes widened hearing an obviously female voice addressing him.
‘They are donkeys sacred one.’
Tika stumbled in surprise at being called sacred one but recovered herself.
‘Are they usual animals here?’ Ren distracted Zenidor’s attention from Tika.
‘Yes sacred one. What else could we use for heavy work?’
Pallin opened his mouth to comment but closed it again after Olam found the older man’s ribs with a sharp jabbing elbow. Maressa reached out to touch the nearest donkey’s long furred ears.
‘Do many sacred ones visit you?’ she asked, bestowing a dazzling smile upon Vanim.
‘These are the first I have seen,’ he whispered nervously back.
‘How did you know who they are?’
‘The white cloaks of course. All the stories of sacred ones visiting folk tell that they were hidden in white cloaks.’
‘You must tell us some of these stories,’ Maressa beamed. ‘So many odd ideas get about – we can tell you which are the real stories and which may have been concocted beside a warm fire by a mischievous old one with a pot of strong drink!’
Vanim looked astonished then frowned. He nodded. ‘Such things could happen I suppose. We will tell some tales over our meal, if it pleases you.’
‘Oh it does,’ Maressa agreed. ‘It would please us enormously.’
‘Are you safe my Tika?’ Farn’s voice rang in Tika’s mind.
‘Of course I am dear one. You just make sure you stay out of sight.’
‘We will. Leaf is having a little rest on my back at the moment,’ he added, a touch of smugness in his tone.
Tika suppressed a groan. Farn was still very fond of girls it would seem.
‘Well don’t let her fall if she goes to sleep,’ she told him. ‘I will speak to you later.’
The dwellings were sturdily built, two storey houses of stone. There was a flurry of excited activity as the party approached, Zenidor and his donkeys in the lead. A child ran to take the animals, leading them towards a shed. Hens, slightly smaller and of different colours to Sapphrean hens, tiptoed about the barn doors. Zenidor took them to the largest building and ushered them inside.
The whole of the ground floor was one room with a hearth set at one end. Ovens and spits were built into the hearth and three women worked over pots and trays. After a basic diet of goat and fish, the smell of fresh bread baking was indescribably welcome to the travellers. The end opposite the hearth was set with three long tables with benches against the three walls behind each table.
‘Please be seated. The women will bring you tea while I send children for the rest of the village.’
Two women brought pots of tea and clay drinking bowls. They kept their eyes on the table until Maressa touched the back of one woman’s hand.
‘Will you not tell me your names? Come,’ she coaxed. ‘Sit and talk with me until Zenidor returns.’
The women did as she bade but would only risk quick darting glances at Tika or Ren and spoke very little. By the time the entire community had squeezed itself in, the room didn’t seem nearly so large. There was a buzz of general chatter until everyone had eaten their fill. They had reached the point where they were nibbling very sweet rolls, merely to fill the last gaps.
‘Why do you travel through our country?’ Zenidor asked finally, and silence fell throughout the room. Even the babies hushed their fussing.
‘I am escorting my friends to the islands.’ Gan took the role of spokesman. ‘Have you ever been to the coast?’
Zenidor gave a short laugh. ‘I went once, with my father. We had planned to be there for six days and we left after just one.’ He shook his head at the memory. ‘People everywhere. Buildings everywhere. We got lost every time we turned a corner. And the noise! Street traders, pedlars, Harbour City guards, temple bells and priests calling their followers. I don’t know how folk can live like that, squashed against each other. Father and I left Harbour City the day after we’d arrived and scarcely stopped to rest until we’d got home.’
‘What religion do you follow, or the Harbour City people?’ Gan was wary. The Asatarians and the Sapphreans called only on the stars for guidance and revered the land for the constancy and permanence of both. He had, in his role as Captain of the Golden Lady’s Guards, had to deal with instances of strangely deviant cults which thankfully were isolated and rare occurrences. He waited for Zenidor’s reply with some trepidation.
Zenidor shrugged. ‘In Harbour City there are many gods and goddesses. Many people there make their living on or in the great sea. It is a dangerous life – a storm can overturn great merchant ships as easily as a small fishing boat. So the people offer gifts and prayers to many different temples in hope of protection.’
One of the other village men, far older than the others, raised a gnarled hand. ‘I am Zeminth. I lead our people here in the rites each cycle and the birth and death rituals. We pray to the land and the Elder Races.’
‘Elder Races?’ Tika asked rather too quickly.
The old man stared at her but the hood of her cloak shadowed her face completely. He nodded slowly but said nothing more.
Tika took a deep breath. ‘Do you know stories of Dragons, or of gijan?’
The silence in the room was now dense enough to see it. Zeminth folded his hands on the table. ‘They are Elder Races. We honour their memory and pray the time will come when they will walk these lands once more. Now, may I ask why sacred ones come from the north at this time? I was but a tottering child when I last heard of such an event.’
‘I would first ask what you mean when you speak of sacred ones,’ Ren leaned his chin on his hand, his face well hidden within his hood.
Zeminth frowned. ‘The ones in white robes are the messengers of the Elder Races. They came among us often in the Time Before. There have been only a handful of visits in many generations now. Perhaps we have failed them somehow. Can you not tell us?’
‘I think we must sleep on this. At sunrise we should leave, but we will speak of your questions then.’ Ren spoke slowly.
‘We would count that gracious of you, sacred one.’
The company were told they could sleep in this hall and were supplied with pillows and blankets for their comfort. Zeminth was the last to leave, leaning heavily on a much younger woman’s arm. An orange Kephi shot between his feet and he turned back with a frown.
‘Cats do not enter our dwellings – they live in the barns.’
Khosa leaped to Sket’s chest and he grinned at the old man. ‘This one travels with us sir.’
Zeminth’s eyebrows rose but he let the matter drop and shuffled out. The door closed and Maressa sank onto a heap of pillows.
‘Not a trace of mind power among them,’ she said.
Tika pushed her hood back with relief. ‘I thought not,’ she agreed. ‘What do you intend to tell them in the morning Ren?’
Silvered chestnut eyes met Tika’s. ‘You know full well.’
She grinned and curled among the pillows with a gigantic yawn.
They were given breakfast just before dawn by the same three women who’d served them yesterday, then the company stepped outside. The air was much fresher than they’d experienced for days and they breathed it gratefully. The villagers waited for them silently, the old man standing between Zenidor and Vanim. The first sunlight sparkled on dew limning the stone roofs and the grass underfoot. Tika moved slowly forward, Sket at her shoulder. She stopped in front of Zeminth and raised her hands to push her hood away from her face. Even the old man could not repress a gasp when he saw her eyes: green as emeralds surrounded by silver. She turned her eyes to the sky and the villagers followed her gaze.
Four Dragons spiralled lazily down to land barely a man length from the village people. Three gijan glided silently over their heads then dropped beside Tika, enfolding her in wings lined with pale green, deep pink and bright yellow. The one with the pink under feathers suddenly pounced, lifting Khosa with a trill of delight. Khosa didn’t appear overwhelmed with pleasure at this treatment but she bore it relatively gracefully.
Farn paced forward, his silver blue scales flashing in the rising sun and pressed his brow to Tika’s. His long beautiful face turned towards the three men standing in stunned stillness. His eyes whirred, with mischief had they but known it, and he leaned to press his brow to Zeminth’s. Farn spoke in all their minds.
‘May the stars guide your paths my friends. I am Farn, soul bond of Tika.’
Zeminth pulled free of the two men supporting him and staggered two steps towards Farn, his hands stretching, trembling to the young Dragon. Farn studied him, saw tears streaming down the old weatherworn face and gently ducked his head, letting Zeminth’s hands rest upon his neck.
Seeing Zeminth’s reaction to the Dragons the other villagers came hesitantly closer. Seela and Brin introduced themselves, radiating calm friendliness. Ren and Tika watched the gijan approach the younger people, realising how dependent on each other they must have been in the City of the Domes. Leaf appeared more confident while Piper and Willow held hands and stayed close behind her. Navan was commenting on how well these people accepted the unexpected sight of Dragons and gijan in their midst when an ear-splitting noise erupted from one of the sheds.
All heads turned to see Storm backing hurriedly away from the door. From within came braying shrieks and gasping wheezes. Storm’s distress and embarrassment were plain to see but Zenidor’s stern face slowly cracked into a smile. He caught Olam’s eye.
‘I believe the young one might have tried to introduce himself to our donkeys.’
Piper ran to Storm, draping herself along his grey neck and trilling to him. Tika looked across at Leaf and Willow. Yes, they were growing: at least their legs were. All three gijan wore only the loose trousers they’d worn in the City. Tika could see a clear handspan of thin leg above each ankle now, whereas before the trousers reached down to the gijan’s feet.
Somehow the travellers found they were still in the village at noon, but they felt they couldn’t depart in the face of such communal delight. A bench had been brought out for Zeminth and he sat, disbelief on his face, while Seela reclined beside him, her head lowered to his level. Tika and Ren were perched on a stone wall talking to Sket and Navan when Zenidor approached them.
‘Please sacred ones, must you leave today? One more night can surely not interfere with your plans can it? I beg you stay until tomorrow.’
Tika smiled. ‘We had been discussing that very thing Zenidor. Very well. We will stay one more night but we must go at tomorrow’s dawn. We do not know how long it will take us to journey to a particular island in the western sea. There is some urgency in our getting there though.’
‘My people find it a great magic that the Dragons speak inside our heads. They are so wise and gentle – truly Elders.’
Tika maintained her smile in the face of Sket’s grin: Farn was behind Zenidor and clearly approved his comment on the gentleness and the wisdom of Dragons.
‘He’ll be unbearable,’ Sket muttered with undisguised glee.
Storm worked his way carefully through the humans and settled beside Navan.
‘I did not mean to upset those animals in their cave,’ he explained.
Navan rubbed the sea Dragon’s face. ‘We know you didn’t, but perhaps you should be very careful just where you poke your nose from now on.’
‘Oh I will, I will.’ Storm’s agreement was heartfelt.
Later in the day, Tika joined Zeminth where he still sat, apparently immovable, on his bench beside Seela.
‘You are glad to know that the Elder Races are still in this world Zeminth?’ she asked gently.
He dragged his gaze from Seela’s violet prismed eyes to Tika’s face.
‘I have been asking this beautiful one why we never knew the Dragons still live beyond the desert lands.’
‘I wondered about that. But why have we, who live in those same lands, never known your people were here? We have never heard of these ships Zenidor spoke of, but if they travel among many islands, why have they not travelled north and found our people?’
Zeminth thought for a while. ‘I have never been on a ship, or seen one, or visited Harbour City so I cannot answer your question properly. There have long been stories of terrible weather along the coast which borders the eastern desert. I have heard tales of great monsters, which drag ships beneath the waters of the western coast.’ He frowned. ‘The monsters and the freak storms are both said to occur where the desert lines the shore. Very few shipmen survive, even if they reach land. In fact, I don’t recall any stories of survivors.’
