Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series, page 7
‘Is there anything we might do for them? I think they’re in trouble,’ he murmured, watching the gijan huddle at the edge of the awning.
‘I think so too, but I don’t know how to find out.’ Tika frowned. ‘Would you ask Hadjay if he knows what might be wrong or how we might ease them? I’ll see if I can get anywhere with them directly.’
‘Hadjay?’ Ren raised a brow.
Tika nodded. ‘He’s the most sympathetic of those Qwah I think. Oh and Ren – have you noticed that smell of mint has come back?’
He scowled. ‘I’d hoped it was just my imagination. It disappeared once we’d been in the desert a couple of days from the coast, but I thought I smelt it soon after we came out of that Valley.’
Ren moved between Riff and Maressa, looking for Hadjay. Navan joined Tika at that moment. He too watched the gijan.
‘What sort of creature are they Tika?’ he asked.
She looked up into his face. Once she had feared this man, Hargon’s second in command. Now she counted him a true friend.
‘I don’t know but I keep seeing a similarity to Mim, although perhaps that is only because of their hands.’
‘But I don’t know Mim – to me their hands are like the Dragons,’ Navan pointed out.
Tika was startled: Navan was right of course. And hadn’t Grek said the gijan had an affinity with Storm?
‘Their skin is not like Mim’s or the Dragons though,’ she countered. ‘I’m going to see if they’ll speak to me or let me use mind speech Navan. Don’t let anyone interrupt for a few moments.’
He nodded and watched her walk over to the crouching figures. Sket touched his arm.
‘Thought something was wrong,’ he said. ‘Young Storm’s upset – look at him.’
Storm reclined near Seela, but his eyes flashed grey and green: clearly he was communicating some agitation to the adult Dragon.
‘Do you think they might do better if we took them on horseback?’ Navan wondered.
‘No I don’t. Haven’t you noticed – they keep as far from the horses as they do from the Qwah.’
Tika was kneeling by the gijan now. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned urgently to Sket. He hurried to her side then returned for the satchel that rarely left his person. He was fumbling among its contents as he went back to kneel beside Tika. As Navan watched, Kirat called them to take down the awnings and prepare to ride. Then Gan was at his shoulder, eyes fixed on Tika and Sket.
‘Stay and see if they need any help Navan. I’ll get your horse readied.’
Navan saw Tika’s back stiffen for a moment then she bent over the gijan again. The awnings were down and being rolled into tight packs. Navan took a step towards Tika but to his relief she got to her feet, holding a gijan in her arms. The other two scurried across to Storm who greeted them with a show of concerned affection. Sket thumped a stopper back into the top of a pot and stowed it in his satchel. He met Navan’s questioning gaze. The two men hurried to mount their horses, and rode side by side at the tail of the group.
‘Dreadful,’ Sket muttered, adding a few oaths for emphasis. ‘Skin drying out in great blisters, poor soul.’ He patted his satchel. ‘Old Lorak gave me all kinds of medicines, herbs and salves – mostly for Farn but I hope the salves work on that poor creature. How it could have lasted that ride last night without so much as a peep of complaint I don’t know Navan, I just don’t know.’
He looked up as the black shapes of the Dragons flew slowly overhead. They could see, in the brilliant light of a million stars, Tika on Farn’s back still cradling a small shape in her arms. The ground was less strewn with large rocks now and Ren reined back, Sket and Navan moving aside so he rode between them.
‘Tika asked me to see if Hadjay knew anything of the gijan. She said she thought he was the most sympathetic of the Qwah.’ Ren snorted in disgusted contempt, his silvered eyes flashing between Navan and Sket. ‘He said they were vermin,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘You mind spoke Tika with Hadjay’s words didn’t you?’ Navan remembered Tika’s sudden rigidity.
Ren nodded.
‘I have done what I can for the little one although it isn’t much more than Tika or the Dragons can.’ Grek spoke in their minds. ‘The problem is that you must get those gijan to Namolos. But if one dies out here, the others will die also. They are litter mates.’
‘I do not understand,’ Navan complained helplessly. ‘Do gijan have litters as do mice or hoppers?’
‘Exactly so. I have not come across gijan before although I have heard stories, rumours. They birth their children in litters numbering three to five. Very occasionally they produce only one or two but the average number is three.’ Grek paused. ‘It is essential that these three reach Namolos with Tika. Khosa says that the fate of an entire race hangs on the survival of these particular three.’ The unbodied entity sounded rather peeved. ‘Khosa seems to know a great deal more than she is willing to share with the rest of us.’
Chapter Six
If anything, the heat was even worse throughout the next day. Sleep proved impossible even for Riff and Pallin. The company became ever more concerned at the condition of the gijan. Tika and Maressa gave half their own water ration to the nearly unconscious creature. Sket worried that there would not be enough of Lorak’s salve to last the length of their journey, especially if the remaining two gijan succumbed.
At first those two still relatively fit, had refused any but Tika to open their brother’s shirt. Eventually, they allowed Sket and Maressa to work on his exposed chest but adamantly insisted that the hood and mask remain in place. Tika found the gijan’s body was as dappled as his hands, with odd octagonal patterning etched in faint lines of gold and green. There were also four sets of closely paired nipples down the centre of his chest and upper stomach. When she and Maressa gently turned the gijan onto his side to work on his back, they could only stare.
Hot swellings on each side of his upper spine stretched the skin painfully taut. The two gijan kneeling with Tika moaned softly then one began a soft trilling song. It faltered a couple of times but gradually seemed to gain in confidence and his song steadied and strengthened. Khosa squeezed between Tika and the singing gijan and sat staring unblinkingly at the prostrate gijan’s back. Turquoise eyes flicked up to Tika’s face.
‘They have forgotten,’ she said, sadness in her mind voice.
‘Forgotten what?’
‘They have forgotten the songs. There were many songs I think which had to be sung in a particular order. And there is no elder to sing to them. These are litter mates. This one seems to have trace memories of the singing rites but he does not know them all or the order in which to sing them.’
‘Do you not know the songs Khosa?’
Khosa moved out of their way. ‘Only Namolos just might know now. There are no elders left with the memories.’
Tika winced, both at Khosa’s words and at the heat from her egg pendant. Impatiently she pulled it free of her shirt and bent to soothe Lorak’s salve over the gijan’s hot skin. The three Qwah ignored the gijan completely, looking anywhere but directly at the tiny creatures. Kirat had told them that the first days in the southern desert would be hard – he had been only too accurate. By the time they halted at dawn on the sixth day and set up their camp, all of Tika’s party were exhausted except for the Dragons. But the heat that day was fractionally less severe.
Halfway through the next night Storm called in urgent distress, losing height rapidly to settle on the sand. Ren, Sket and Navan rode back to the sea Dragon even as the other Dragons landed amid flurries of sand. Gan strode from Seela to Storm, scooping a second gijan into his arms and laying him gently across his lap. The same blisters were cracking across this gijan’s chest as had happened with the first.
‘You go on after the others,’ Gan ordered Ren and Navan. ‘Sket will stay with us now but you cannot fall too far behind those star cursed Qwah.’
Navan took Sket’s horse and with Ren cantered after the disappearing cavalcade.
‘Storm, I think it best if this last gijan rides with Maressa and Brin. Should he collapse too, he would surely fall to his death unless someone was there to hold him secure.’
Storm shifted from foot to foot, faceted eyes whirring in agitation.
‘It would be best,’ Farn murmured, twining his neck around Storm’s. ‘When they are recovered, they can return to you.’
Tika felt tears threaten. Farn had no idea what a desperate plight two of the gijan were in, his chief concern at this moment was to offer comfort to his friend’s unhappiness. Sket was carefully wrapping the second gijan’s tiny body in its white cloak. Gan stood up, the gijan looking like a mere baby in his arms. Seela turned her head, studying the gijan closely, then she looked towards Brin.
‘Fly on Brin, until you are free of these lands. Tell us how far you have to fly before you find water. For water is what these poor little ones need.’
Maressa had been unable to estimate even with her abilities as an air mage, how far the desert extended. She had told how great storms of whirling dust clouds blocked her vision to the south. Brin waited until Maressa had lifted the third gijan onto his back and had climbed up herself. Then he was in the air, speeding after the horse riders, and was quickly lost to sight against the star filled sky.
When they stopped for the day’s shelter and rest, Pallin came to help work on the two nearly comatose gijan. He muttered and clucked as he worked and after watching his surprisingly gentle hands moving over the gijan, Tika left him and slumped against Farn’s side. Khosa crouched next to her.
‘Will they live Khosa?’
‘They are so weak and frail yet so much rests upon them.’ Khosa’s voice sounded distant, as if she spoke to herself rather than to Tika.
Two more nights and days passed before Brin bespoke Seela. She immediately passed word to Tika who could scarcely keep awake, clasping an inert gijan in front of her on Farn’s back.
‘Brin has found water. He shows me the direction by the stars and also by the land. Should we go to him now Tika?’
Tika’s mind was blurred with exhaustion. ‘Wait until Kirat calls a halt. If we can try and rest well tomorrow, then we will decide.’
When Kirat did at last stop at daybreak, Tika nearly dropped the gijan she carried, stumbling from Farn’s back in a daze. Navan was beside her instantly, one arm round her waist, the other taking the gijan from her. She swayed, her legs buckling, and Navan had no difficulty in pushing her down against an anxious Farn. She struggled to regain her feet then Ren’s face hung over her.
‘Sleep,’ was all he said, and she did, helped by a tendril of compulsion from both the Offering and from Seela.
When Tika awoke at sunset, she found the decisions had been made without her. The Dragons would hurry ahead and the five horsemen would catch up as they could. It was deemed prudent for Ren to stay with the group led by the Qwah – he could far speak better than Olam so would take guidance from the Dragons as to their location. Accordingly, Gan approached Kirat when the camp was struck.
‘Some of us must part company with you Kirat. Several of us will take the gijan on with the Dragons much faster than if we hold back to the speed of your horses. We appreciate your knowledge of these fierce lands and thank you for guiding us thus far.’
Kirat stared at Lady Emla’s Captain of Guards. ‘You risk your lives going unguided, and for what?’ He flicked a contemptuous glance to where the two gijan lay. ‘I told you that they are only seen in the inner part of our City – if they venture from there, they are killed like the vermin they are.’
Gan’s face remained expressionless. ‘You are entitled to your opinion Kirat, but it is OUR opinion that the gijan are living, intelligent beings, at present in dire need of help. We intend to offer them that help.’
Kirat’s hand rested on the hilt of the curved blade that hung from his belt and Olam shifted his position as Hadjay and Sirak moved to flank their brother.
‘The Survivors commanded you to guide us I think.’ Gan inclined his head slightly. ‘Our friends still have need of your skills. Perhaps we will meet again beyond this desert but if not, again I thank you.’
Keeping his hands clear of his own sword and dagger, Gan turned slowly away from the Qwah. For a moment there was a tense stillness beneath the awning. Then Hadjay spat noisily and a gobbet of phlegm landed very close to Gan’s boot. He ignored it and simply stooped to lift one of the gijan. Olam accompanied Gan to Seela’s side.
‘Watch carefully Olam,’ Gan whispered. ‘I think maybe the Survivors’ orders don’t hold so firm this far from the City. It would be easy to report an “accident” in a storm or some such. Keep watch my friend.’
He reached down from Seela’s back and clasped Olam’s forearm in farewell. ‘We should meet in two to three days by my reckoning, but take care and watch those Qwah.’
The three Dragons lifted skywards and Seela bespoke them all. ‘There is a risk in this. We must fly fast to get as close to Brin as we can before the sun rises.’ She turned her head towards Farn and Storm. ‘You must tell me when you need to rest. It will not help us if you fly to your limit and then need time to recover. We can halt as many times as you need.’ Her eyes flashed in the starlight. ‘Now hatchlings – let us find Brin.’
Tika preferred not to remember that flight later: twice they landed before dawn and then, with the sun rising, so did the dust and sand. They huddled on the ground, the few rocks insufficient shelter for an adult great Dragon. Seela spread her wings, hooking the talons on the wing edges into the hard ground, and ducked her head under her chest, offering what cover she could for the three humans, two gijan and two young Dragons.
When the strange rattling and shrieking wind finally passed, Seela’s back scales were scored with scratches and her leathery wings bleeding in places. She dismissed Tika’s concern.
‘The sun is higher than I would wish but one more effort will get us to Brin.’
That last burst of energy through the hottest part of the day, exhausted and frightened Storm and Farn, but just as they thought they could go no further, they heard Brin’s bass trumpeting, and saw the crimson Dragon ahead of them beside a long narrow stretch of water. Tika was terrified when they landed. She gave the gijan she carried straight into Maressa’s arms and turned her attention to Farn.
Like Storm, the silver blue Dragon had sunk to his belly, his neck and head extended along the ground. His whole body trembled and his half closed eyes were dull. Sket was already searching through the pouches and pots in his satchel for the herbs provided by Lorak, and he hurried to the small fire Maressa had burning. He noticed, as he mixed pinches of herbs with water from the hot can over the fire, the third gijan lay motionless in the small shade of a boulder. Khosa, released from her sack, crouched beside that gijan, bristling with concern.
‘Stars, what a mess,’ Sket muttered, stirring the herbs with a grimy fingertip.
He took the bowl to Farn and helped Tika force half the contents into Farn’s mouth. They repeated the procedure with Storm. Brin watched, his eyes whirring dark rose.
‘There is prey not far from here – I will fetch food for you all.’
He lifted away from them as Sket turned his attention to Seela’s torn wings. Farn and Storm were asleep where they lay before Brin returned with two goats. Gan hoped fervently they were wild goats: he did not feel up to dealing with irate farmers right now.
The sun was setting again by the time Tika was sure she had done all she could for the Dragons. She sank down by the fire, gratefully accepting a bowl of tea from Sket, and for the first time took note of her surroundings. She hadn’t realised they had left the desert. Behind their tiny camp, sheer cliffs rose higher than any she’d seen on the coast. Maressa smiled.
‘The desert just came to an end. I have not managed to see any sort of trail up or down those cliffs. The ground just drops away and the desert is out of sight – as if it doesn’t exist.’
‘Oh it exists all right!’ Tika said with feeling and a rueful smile.
The long narrow lake beside which they camped was fed by water welling presumably from somewhere in the cliffs to the north. How water could come from beneath such barren and sterile desert was a mystery to Tika and Sket at least. Tika was tearfully relieved to find that both Farn and Storm were back to their normal spirits next morning, eager for the meat Brin had brought while they’d slept.
The state of the gijan gave Tika pause: all three were unconscious. Maressa managed to get small drops of water into them by gently massaging their throats to make them swallow reflexively. She had also removed the hoods and masks and Tika stared at her first sight of gijan faces. Broad across the forehead narrowing to sharply pointed chins, short straight noses and the now familiar dappled skin. Their hair was as black as Tika’s own but it rooted from their skulls down into a vee, ending at the top of their spines. Their ears were upswept, set further back than Tika would have said was usual, but they emphasised the similarity to Mim once again.
‘If only we knew what’s wrong with them,’ Maressa said, wringing out another piece of cloth and spreading it on a gijan chest.
Tika scanned the area for Khosa, eventually seeing her crouched between Seela’s enormous feet.
‘It seems to me Khosa that you at least have spoken to this Namolos. Can you not ask him what we should do? You say the gijan must reach him – they are too ill now for us to move them even a league further.’
‘I cannot.’
‘What do you mean – you cannot?’ Tika snapped.
‘That is what I mean Tika: I cannot.’ Khosa crept towards Tika, her posture indicating extreme misery. Tika stared at the Kephi in astonishment.
