Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series, page 37
Flute paused. ‘First we find the children held in this place, then we go to different parts of this land. I will find the female Tika. She will help us to destroy Qwah completely.’
She bowed once more and hurried after the other Elders. Singer watched until Flute vanished at the far side of the Dome. He pondered for a while, trying to imagine a conversation with Mazan. He almost thought he heard her wonderful chuckle, and his decision was made. He checked his instruments and the status of his power units. Kertiss had never bothered to verify Singer’s statement that the Ship had no power supply left. Surprisingly, Singer found he was quite calm.
He was under no illusion: he may well destroy himself within the space of this day. But he would at least die under the sky – he might even see the stars again. He powered the ducts which forced the cushion of air beneath his great bulk and began to move, turning slowly to face the opposite end of the Dome. Star Singer moved steadily until he reached the ramp that sloped first downwards, then up: up to the outside world.
He paused as his scanners showed him another dome above him, a dome of darkest blue velvet upon which jewelled stars were flung in glorious abandon. His sound receptors picked up screams in the immediate area, cries, and the clash of low technology weapons. Somehow Singer suspected the Elders would not be gentle in retrieving their lost descendants.
Singer steadied himself, increased the amount of air beneath him and engaged the power network. The thrum of energy quivered through the entire Ship and Singer ran the automatic checking sequences that had not operated for a thousand years. He concentrated fiercely: he WOULD succeed. Mazan had taught him too well for him to let her down and fail now. He hovered above the Dome in which he’d existed for all this time one moment longer and set a course south west. At last, Star Singer flew once more.
Jakri said it was two days and Ren argued it was three since they’d been secluded within the half fallen barn. The darkness at night was only a little darker than that during the day.
‘Nothing living could last outside in that could they?’ Navan commented to Gan when they stood near the entrance. He held his hand out but pulled it quickly back, wincing as he did so. They studied the scratches on the back of his hand, inflicted in that brief instant by the dirt particles and worse that drove through the air.
The gijan were unsettled. They disliked the noise the wind made moaning and whistling through any gaps it could find. They disliked the permanent gloom and the dust that seeped and sifted into their feathers. Farn was fully restored, oblivious to the fact that the Mage Jakri had kept his full awareness suppressed for most of the six days since Tika and Sket left him behind in Harbour City. He reclined now as close to his soul bond as he could manage, supervising Jakri and Maressa when they changed the dressings on Tika’s burns. Sket lay close by and Farn kept a careful eye on the armsman too.
Gan noted that Farn grew more distressed over Sket’s missing fingers than he had over anything else. Jakri said that Sket was definitely on the mend, although Sket complained that his eyes “were funny”. Jakri assured him this symptom would pass and added tartly that he hoped Sket’s grumbling would pass too. By the third day (or the fourth if Ren was correct rather than Jakri), the amount of dust falling seemed noticeably reduced.
Khosa joined Gan and Maressa as they tried to peer through the pall of still choking air. Akomi had taken up residence on Tika’s lap, and slept much of the time. When he woke, Tika and Farn encouraged him to tell of his life within the imperial palace. Tika gradually realised why Khosa had insisted Akomi join them: she tried to imagine living among crowds of people yet be totally unable to communicate with any of them, and shuddered at the thought.
‘Could Grek travel through this?’ Maressa wondered.
Khosa stretched and turned her back on the weather. ‘I would have thought so,’ she said, twitching the insidious dust from her ears. ‘But perhaps not. I admit I expected him back by now, so maybe he cannot move through such foul air. Tika’s getting up.’
She trotted deeper into the barn and sat primly beside Akomi as they watched Jakri and Navan help Tika to her feet. Storm, Willow perched on his back, watched too. Tika’s face paled and Farn’s eyes began to whirr faster in alarm.
‘It’s all right Farn. She is only weak – that’s why we must get her up and moving for a while.’ Jakri soothed Farn while steadying Tika’s swaying body.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Tika complained. ‘I’m not hurt so why can’t I even stand up?’
Jakri met her green silvered eyes but said nothing.
‘Sorry. Do you think I will find any power comes back?’ she asked quietly.
‘Try a few steps Mistress Tika,’ Jakri encouraged. ‘Yes. I hope you regain your mental strength but it is tied to your physical wellbeing too you know. You can still use mind speech, so I have every hope you will recover fully. It will take time though and patience is needed.’
Supported by Jakri and Navan, Tika got as far as Brin. Perspiration beaded her face and she was trembling. Brin lowered his face to her level.
‘I am so sorry Brin,’ she said aloud.
The broad crimson brow pressed against hers, tears the size of her fist rolling slowly down his long face.
‘It was Seela’s decision.’ His mind tone was sad but firm. ‘We will sing of her courage in our histories.’
Tika put her good hand against his wet face and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she found Leaf leaning down to her from Brin’s back. She smiled at the gijan.
‘Farn told me you found us and you carried us to safety. How can I thank you Leaf?’
Leaf’s dark eyes regarded Tika steadily. ‘Our lives are yours,’ was all she said. She gave the tiniest nod and turned back to Willow and the important task of cleaning their feathers of this appalling dust.
Tika watched them for a while then turned to totter between Jakri and Navan towards Storm. She spoke to the sea Dragon and to Willow, draped along his neck, then struggled back towards Sket. He sat propped against the wall, his face as pale as her own and his heavily bandaged left hand cradled across his chest.
‘Let me sit here for a while,’ Tika begged Jakri. She caught Sket’s eye. ‘If there’s a chance of some tea, we’d both really appreciate it.’
Jakri gently lowered Tika alongside Sket even as Navan went to the fire to make their tea. To Tika’s relief, Sket’s familiar grin had appeared when she looked at him next.
‘Never seem to make enough tea do they my lady?’
She stretched to reach his right hand with hers. ‘We make a matching pair,’ she said. ‘Does your hand hurt?’
Sket’s grin stayed in place. ‘Armsmen expect to get bits chopped off. A couple of fingers is nothing.’ He saw her sceptical expression and squeezed her hand. ‘Really, I swear by the stars it is of no importance. It might have made a bit of difference if it had been my sword hand, but this won’t bother me, I promise my lady.’
By the time Tika lay down in her blankets again she was exhausted. She fell instantly asleep and slept half the day away. She woke to find everyone else rolled in their blankets except for Navan, who sat quietly beside her.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes please.’ Tika tried to push herself up when Navan went to the low burning fire to pour her some tea. She bit her lip as she moved awkwardly, twisting the burn on her chest and causing a jolt of fiery agony.
Navan handed her the bowl, sliding his arm under her shoulders to raise her a little higher.
‘Navan, I haven’t told anyone what happened yet. Can I tell you?’
Navan’s arm tightened briefly. ‘I don’t expect I’ll understand,’ he warned her.
She spoke softly, recounting all she could remember.
‘Did you actually see Valesh?’ Navan asked when she paused to sip her cooling tea. He felt a shiver ripple through her.
‘Yes. She was a huge shape, constantly changing, but not quite solid. If she had reached a more solid state, I doubt she could have been defeated. I understand now why Taseen said they were called monstrous. She was like something from your worst nightmare multiplied a thousand times over. Because her shape shifted from one aspect to another, it was difficult to keep track of the threads of her being. Seela gave me time to do that.’
‘How did those scales get inside Sket’s pack? It was fastened tight when the gijan brought you back to us.’
Tika shook her head. ‘I have no idea. I think he was unconscious from the time Seela died.’
‘As were you,’ Navan began, but Tika shook her head again.
‘I was dragged out of my body by Valesh’s death pangs. At least, I think that’s what must have happened. Perhaps Taseen might know. My body was with Sket, but my mind went to a very strange place.’
She twisted to look closely into Navan’s face. ‘Did Mayla ever speak of places Between?’
Navan frowned. ‘I was taken from the women’s quarters at seven and I spoke only rarely to her after that. I don’t remember such a phrase.’
Tika sighed. ‘It was a grey place, something like the Domain of the Delvers in form: tunnels leading all ways. Seela spoke to me there. She said there are many such places but that particular one was the place Between life and death which is why she was able to be there for a very brief time.’
Navan listened in silence.
‘She said I must hurry from that place, but I couldn’t feel the thread that links me to my body. That’s what makes me think I was pulled there by Valesh. Seela then told me to follow Sket’s mind but I couldn’t find him. I know now that he was unconscious, so his mind was lost to me anyway.’
Navan pushed a pack under Tika’s shoulders and went to fetch more tea for her.
‘I went down so many tunnels Navan, and all so strange.’
She rested the tea bowl on her lap and reached for his hand. ‘All of them ended in a sort of sealed window. Many were dark and I could see nothing. But one showed me Hargon.’
Navan gave an exclamation of shock. ‘Hargon?’ he echoed.
Tika nodded. ‘He looked very sick. He was sitting near the sea Dragons’ caves and he was speaking to Mist. Then the window grew dark and I saw no more.’
She sat silent for a few moments before continuing. ‘I could tell that I had been too long from my body, that in fact my body would die soon if I couldn’t get back and then I wouldn’t be able to get back at all. I think I started to panic, rushing down every tunnel I saw. Then I smelt mint, like Ren, Sket and I did at the coast – do you remember? It seemed as good a chance as any so I tried to follow the smell and it led me to Sket. I remember hurting and knowing I was in my body, although I wasn’t sure if Sket was alive. Then Leaf was there.’
Tika seemed to relax once she’d told Navan all she could of that time and she soon drifted back to sleep. Navan tucked the blankets around her and sat watching through the remainder of the night. He found much of what she’d told him beyond his ability to comprehend but he recognised three things clearly. One was how terrified she had been, both when she was trying to unmake Valesh and when she found herself in the place Between. The second was that despite her fear, her courage had carried her through. The third thing was what an incredibly powerful mind was contained within this small person.
Next morning the sky had cleared enough for them to venture out. They came back coated with a layer of fine reddish brown dust but the wind no longer hurled granules of grit with the almost lethal intent it had previously. Gan fetched more water, pouring it from pail to pail through a cloth to remove the dirt, but Jakri told him not to bother. The Wendlan Mage placed his hand in the water, murmured a few words and smiled.
‘It is pure now,’ he said. ‘A very basic spell.’
He was surprised that neither Ren nor Maressa had known of such a thing and repeated the words to them. They were as thrilled as children when they discovered it really was that simple to ensure safe drinking water. They were all concerned about their rapidly dwindling supplies. Storm ventured outside cautiously, studying the sky still streaked with angry colours. It was some time before Farn wondered where his friend had gone. Navan and Maressa hurried out just in time to see Storm flying towards them. He gave them four stout fish with an air of modest pride. His offering was received with delight, especially from Khosa and Akomi.
That evening, sitting round their comforting fire and with three of Ren’s glow stones cheering them further, Gan offered his opinion that they would be able to travel the next day.
‘Yes, but where?’ asked Maressa. ‘Olam’s still in Wendla. We don’t know where Grek is. Should we go to Harbour City to help the people there? Or try to find Namolos?’
They sat in silence considering the choices Maressa offered them. Eventually Tika realised they were all staring at her.
‘Why must I be the one to choose?’ she asked irritably. She sighed. ‘To be honest, I know where we should go but I’m not keen on the idea.’
Farn leaned over her shoulder to press his cheek against hers in sympathy.
‘We have to go back to the desert. Valesh’s brother is much damaged, nowhere near as strong as she was. But he is still powerful enough to cause plenty of difficulty. He must be unmade too.’
Next morning they gathered their belongings and prepared to leave their haven. Jakri had decreed their travelling was to be gentle, no long flights to weary his patients. Although they protested that they were well enough, both Sket and Tika were still far from fit. Sket was bothered by a continuing dull headache which annoyed him more than the tingling in his hand, while Tika would not admit just how badly her burns still hurt.
They were all outside when Brin reared erect, staring to the north east. All they could see was a dark shape flying towards them at considerable speed. Suddenly the gijan wailed and threw themselves flat on the ground, clouds of dust rising around them, their wings half extended.
There was no mistaking what she was as she landed gracefully in front of them. Her scales sparkled even in this diffuse sunlight and her great wings gleamed black over her shoulders. The blue sash at her waist contrasted with the dark blue of her under feathers. She bowed, her wings spreading on the ground behind her.
‘I am the Elder, Flute. I seek the one named Tika.’
Chapter Thirty
Orla was revelling in her new situation. She had summoned the leaders of the desert warriors – armsmen were not needed in such a secure place as the City of the Domes but there were always men and women to be found who relished a life in arms. The desert fighter Hadjay had reported back to her on the treacherous deaths of his brothers and their failure to kill the strange visitors. He had been incandescent with rage and sorrow: so easy to manipulate. Hadjay, by Orla’s command, sent for the nearest tribal leaders. Usually, any such dealings were conducted through the intermediaries of the Keepers but this time, resplendent in uniform, Orla herself had met them in the Dome of Assembly.
The warriors had knelt before her, their foreheads touching the floor. She gave them a slightly slanted version of events and was thrilled to see how quickly these fierce warriors went from abject awe to bloodthirsty eagerness. She produced maps of such detail they murmured in astonishment and nodded when she indicated the route they should take to Harbour City. Orla knew nothing of Harbour City, seeing it only on the several occasions the Ship over flew the planet prior to Kertiss deciding where they would land.
Even on magnified scans it had seemed a small place of modest primitive buildings – except for the great fortress on its eastern promontory. The desert men could tell Orla nothing of the land of Malesh. They raided only a few leagues below their desert for the sheer sport of it; they had no ambitions towards conquest and governance. But Orla did. She had had plenty of years to experiment in her laboratories beneath the greatest of the three Domes and had been content to do so until the last twenty years or so.
She had begun to dream in her brief periods of sleep. To begin with, she’d disregarded them, but when they persisted she found herself thinking of them while she worked. Orla didn’t discuss them with Kertiss: they rarely spoke to each other. She didn’t know what he thought of her and didn’t care. He was the older of the two of them, and male, and even in the enlightened times in which they’d been born, her stupid parents lavished their love, praise, and more importantly, the very best education they could buy on him.
She had worked through computers at home and at the inadequate school to which she was sent, stealing Kertiss’s access codes to keep up with all he studied. She’d turned her back on her parents the day she achieved the highest marks in her graduation classes and was immediately offered her pick of research jobs. Kertiss got a low percentage of marks in his graduation examinations and still their parents threw a party to celebrate their wonder boy’s achievement.
She lost track of him for years and then found, somewhat to her horror, that they were on the same training programme for captaincies of the new bio Ships. After some thought, it seemed sensible to choose to do a joint captaincy – she knew she would be able to manipulate him even if he did believe he was the senior officer. But they had been rejected by the board. Kertiss had shrugged it off but Orla couldn’t believe she’d failed to get something on which she’d set her heart.
They’d been crossing the middle concourse of the bio Ship docks when sirens sounded their warnings. She’d grabbed Kertiss, pulling him against the tide of panicking workers and tugged him towards the nearest Ship. They’d swung round a corner straight into Captain Mazan. Orla didn’t hesitate. She hit the woman in the stomach, kneed her face as she doubled over and shoved her into the path of a rushing crowd of workers. Orla hauled Kertiss with her and jumped into Star Singer’s door.
The Ship was young, far too highly strung and emotional, but he had got them to Kel-Harat – a whole world she would make her own. And now she felt the time had finally arrived to fulfil this ambition.
The tribal leaders had gone to gather their warriors throughout the eastern desert and Orla promised supplies and invincibility. She had quietly manufactured several small psionic disrupters modelled on her personal one, carried by all the crews of bio Ships. Now she wondered about some of the other weapons still on board Star Singer. Days passed when Orla was preoccupied with reports diligently sent back to her from the first wave of invading warriors. She had been working to replicate the small hand communicators as well, which had lain, long forgotten, on a shelf in one of her laboratories. It had proved an impossible task and Orla cursed the brain back on their home world who had so cunningly made it precisely so that it could not be duplicated. Their damned righteous policy of non interference.
