Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series, page 9
Singer hummed an air from a Zeenolian opera and remembered the heaviness pulling at him as he descended to the planet. After many orbits Ships and their Captains had chosen various locations at which to land and Kertiss, without reference to Singer, had chosen the vast desert in the south of one of the land masses. He had found the long fertile Valley secreted in its midst with the three domed structures. Kertiss’s scanning of that area had revealed extensive underground systems there and he ordered Singer to land as close to the Domes as possible.
The inhabitants had no technology capable of communicating with an interplanetary Ship and the first they knew of Singer’s arrival was a booming thunder from a clear sky and then a great grey shape manoeuvring down towards them. People packed the open area around the Domes and to Singer’s horror, he realised that Kertiss was activating the Ship’s weapons. Singer overrode Kertiss’s commands, reporting vocally that there was a fault in the relay. Singer hovered before touching down in the lesser space amid the three interlocked Domes. Kertiss switched on outer amplifiers.
‘I claim this land for my people,’ he proclaimed to the throng outside.
Two males stepped forward and spoke in response.
‘What’s the language, Ship?’ Kertiss snapped.
‘It has a resemblance to Repsian Common Tongue,’ Singer responded.
‘Tell them to clear this whole area and to come no closer until I summon them.’
Singer obeyed. He was increasingly uncomfortable with Kertiss’s attitude and wanted no one hurt if he could prevent it. One of the males spoke in reply.
‘Well?’
‘He tells us to be gone. This is a special place of great veneration to these people and we pollute it by our presence.’
Singer was taken by surprise by the speed with which Kertiss accessed the door and emerged, a psionic disruptor in his hands.
‘Tell them once more to get out of here,’ he called to Singer.
Again Singer obeyed, urgency in his voice. But the males continued to stand there, a crowd pressing close at their backs. Kertiss began firing. He walked slowly and steadily forward, the firing button pressed to continuous discharge. He stepped around the first two male bodies and picked his way over those behind until he came out to the larger area surrounding the Domes.
Singer could see, over a mass of corpses, Kertiss coming to a halt and lowering the disruptor at last. The remainder of the crowd was vanishing into buildings far across the open area and Kertiss turned back to the Ship. Orla, carrying another disruptor and a scanning communicator, had already entered the largest Dome. By the time Kertiss had returned to Singer, Orla re-emerged from the Dome, a grin on her dark face.
‘They had technology at some time in their distant past,’ she informed her brother. ‘They probably think it’s magic nowadays – what’s left of it! There is room for the Ship to enter easily and it would be better if it was under shelter and close to us.’
She gave Kertiss a meaningful look and he nodded, stepping back inside the Ship.
‘You will transfer to the Dome,’ he ordered.
Singer retracted his wings and powered his external air circulation unit. He rose from the dusty stone slabs upon which he’d landed and followed Orla, floating on a cushion of air, to what would be for him, millennia long seclusion.
Their camp site was by no means luxurious but after the desert it seemed nearly so to Tika and her friends. Rough grass covered the ground and was thicker and lusher around the lake. The scrubby bushes that clung to the lower cliffs grew fuller leafed and a little taller. In the distance, along the lake, trees were visible – willows and ash Ren guessed as he stared to the south. He and the four others the Dragons had plucked from the desert had slept the day round. They’d eaten, bathed in the lake and inspected Olam. He was being made to rest by Pallin and Maressa, much against his wishes. Ren turned away from the water and looked at their tiny camp.
Farn was close to Tika, and Storm lay by the three gijan. Gan had told Ren that Grek would repeat a message from Namolos shortly and then they would have to decide what must be done. Ren had checked the gijan on his way to the water’s edge and saw at once that they were seriously ill.
Accordingly, the party gathered around Olam, and Grek repeated the information Namolos had given him. Silence gathered almost tangibly about them when Grek fell silent.
‘May I ask why you wear the pendant outside your shirt Tika? I think you have always worn it hidden since I’ve known you. Is it to do with the gijan?’ Ren asked quietly.
‘It got hot again.’ Tika’s green silvered eyes met his. ‘It has stayed at least warm for two days now,’ she added more slowly.
‘You think there is a connection?’ Maressa queried.
Ren shrugged. ‘I seem to have lost the ability to make connections between anything, let alone think, ever since I left the Menedula.’ He gave a lopsided smile. ‘And it seems years since I was there.’
‘It is up to you Tika.’ Khosa was perched on Olam’s legs.
‘Why?’ Tika demanded truculently. ‘All of you have seen the pictures from Namolos’s mind. Why must I be the one to do this?’ She stared round at each face, finally meeting Navan’s eyes.
‘I have only heard tell of your great healing of Farn but I knew as I saw those visions that it must be your hands that work upon the poor gijan,’ he said.
‘Did you know that Mayla taught me to read?’ Tika asked abruptly.
‘I suspected so. She has taught other females through the cycles. My mother could read, and had the power within her.’ Navan looked down at the grass between his feet. ‘Hargon killed her – he said it was an accident. She was in the pasture when unbroken koninas were released there and was trampled. I was fourteen cycles, Hargon twelve cycles older and already Lord.’ He met Tika’s gaze again. ‘She was only a worthless female,’ he said very softly.
Equally softly Tika asked: ‘Who led the patrol when I ran away? I should never have been able to reach the mountains without capture. But I did.’
Navan smiled. ‘I led the patrol. We went further west than the route I guessed you would surely take. You were only a worthless female – not worth injuring valuable koninas on rough trails for.’
Tika gave him a dazzling smile and got to her feet. ‘We will need lights Ren: can you supply plenty of glow stones? Water, both warm and cold. There is no chance of any ice here but there must still be some herbs left that will slow bleeding Maressa?’
She went to where the adult Dragons reclined and hugged each in turn.
‘I will need strength for what I must attempt my dears. Will you share yours with me in this endeavour?’
Brin and Seela both lowered their heads, nuzzling affection at Tika’s face and shoulders. They accompanied her to where the gijan lay in a small still row.
‘The one who collapsed first is most advanced in this process. Gan, would you move the other two closer to Olam. Olam, call out should they stir while we work upon this gijan.’
Tika watched Storm supervise the moving of the two gijan and saw how he settled protectively around them including Olam in his concern. She rolled her sleeves up above her elbows, turning finally to Farn and taking his long beautiful face between her hands.
‘Love of my heart, this will be hard. Stay strong for me and calm I beg you.’
Farn’s eyes whirred, shining pale silver blue with affection. He huffed softly into her face.
‘But of course I will help my Tika. I will stay calm. And you will succeed wonderfully of course.’
In spite of her fears Tika laughed at Farn’s endless faith and confidence in her. She hugged him tight, took a deep breath and moved to wash her hands in the bowl Maressa held ready.
Navan turned the gijan from its side to lie face down. Sket, Maressa and Pallin sorted what medicinal herbs each still carried. Riff had foraged for mosses of a kind well known to armsmen for their blood clotting properties and their suitability to pack wounds. Ren knelt at the gijan’s head, as Daro had for Mim. He touched the gijan’s mind lightly to check the depth of its unconsciousness and gave Tika a quick nod.
Tika placed her hands on one of the swellings on the gijan’s back and bit back a moan. Fiery pain leapt up her arms. For a moment, as at Farn’s healing, panic threatened to swamp her. Then she felt other hands rest lightly over hers.
‘Put my hands under yours if you wish. I do not mind the blood.’
Shocked, she met Navan’s gaze over the gijan’s body. She drew a shaky breath.
‘I thank you Navan but I believe I must be the one to touch him.’
Navan withdrew his hands and sat back on his heels. ‘Remember we are all here Tika and we will help with whatever you ask of us.’
As soon as Tika applied a slight pressure, the gijan’s skin split and hot thick lavender coloured fluid spurted over her hands. Slowly, she applied the same pressure down the length of the ridged swelling, the skin parting like an overripe fruit. Other hands mopped away the strange blood and Tika felt a surge of power within her and knew that Brin and Seela were lending her strength. Tika grabbed a piece of cloth and gently wiped directly down the open wound, trying to see within.
‘Your mind small one, use your mind,’ Seela whispered.
Tika let the cloth drop and sent her mind within the gijan’s back. The musculature was slightly different, the blood vessels not as she would have expected in a human, but she could see none of the major muscles or arteries were involved here. There was a long piece of matted stuff within the wound, almost like a splinter which has become infected in a finger. Her fingers dug firmly beneath what she knew to be a wing, and worked steadily to pull it up and out.
She was scarcely aware of the blood coating her hands and wrists, soaking her trousers. She was totally focused within the gijan’s back. There was a wet sucking sound and the wing came free. With great tenderness Tika stretched it outwards, shuffling back on her knees to have space to lay it along the ground. It was darkly wet with lavender blood, and far larger than any of them expected, even though they had seen how large Mim’s were. She left Pallin and Sket to wash and clean the wing and scrambled to the other side of the gijan.
Tika had no idea when Ren’s glow stones took the place of natural light. She was astonished to see the sun well up in the sky by the time the second wing lay extended on the grass.
‘His mind is still deeply shielded,’ Ren murmured. ‘I think he has shut himself away to deal with the pain – I did nothing to cause this sleep.’
Tika nodded wearily. ‘There is still some fever and his body is shocked, but as far as I can tell, he will recover.’
She lifted her pendant over her head and put it against the curve of the gijan’s shoulder. Then Sket’s arm was round her and Farn’s face peered over her shoulder, eyes flashing with concern.
‘She’ll be all right young Farn,’ Sket said confidently. ‘Let’s get her washed and a nice bowl of hot tea inside her then she can sleep.’
Sket helped her to the lake and stripped off her shirt and trousers. She realised she was covered in lavender blood and shivered passively while Sket scrubbed her clean. Farn held her steady between his wings and his chest when Sket towelled her dry and wrapped a blanket round her. They had nearly reached the fire before Tika’s knees gave out. Sket caught her up, carrying her the rest of the way but she didn’t have her promised bowl of tea: she was asleep.
Tika woke to yet another day to find two Dragon faces watching her. Storm’s grey eyes sparkled at her.
‘Maressa thinks the gijan may wake soon,’ he said. ‘They are all waiting to see if she will know how to fly or if we’ll have to teach her.’
‘Her?’ Tika stared at Farn, aware of her soul bond’s delight in both her waking and in her surprise at hearing the gijan was female.
‘She’s a girl, Maressa says. I like girls.’ Farn nudged her gently. ‘Are you going to put some covers over you?’
Belatedly Tika realised she was naked beneath the blanket. Trousers and a shirt were neatly folded under Farn’s front leg. They were rumpled but at least they were clean. She dressed quickly, a vague memory of Sket stripping her and scrubbing her like a child giving her a twinge of embarrassment. Getting to her feet, she looked to the fireside. Sket grinned and waved a bowl at her. There was no sign of Brin or Riff, but Olam was sitting up, a more normal colour in his face once more.
Before joining them, she detoured to where the gijan lay. She was amazed to see how much the skin had healed already; sealing itself closed along the line of the extruded wings. Navan and Ren looked up as Tika reached them, broad smiles on both their faces. Navan stroked his hand down one of the outspread wings.
‘She is so beautiful Tika. So beautiful. Why would the Qwah kill them? It must be gijan people whose statues stand in Singer’s Dome, don’t you think?’
Tika couldn’t answer. The feathers below her were immaculate: a glossy blue black. But then Navan lifted the wing slightly and she saw the underside was the softest deepest pink. She shook her head helplessly.
‘Will she wake soon Ren?’
He grinned. ‘You’re the expert – you tell us.’
She stooped to feel the gijan’s skin: it was warm now but not hot. She sent her mind lightly into the healing lines along the spine and found no infection. Tika picked up her pendant and slipped the chain over her head. It was cool to her touch once more.
Later, they were digesting their lunch – fish discovered in the lake by a very cheerful Storm – when Maressa called. They turned to look in her direction and Tika quickly went to the air mage. They stood a pace away as the tiny gijan’s body stretched right down to the feet. Tika noted the four taloned toes, the high arches to the feet, the incredibly fragile ankles. Then the gijan’s wings shivered and furled closed against its back.
With a soft moan the gijan pushed to hands and knees, head hanging down. Tika squatted beside the gijan’s shoulder and held out her hands.
‘Let me help you,’ she said gently.
The head came up: broad forehead, high cheekbones, pointed chin, black up tilted eyes. The gijan took Tika’s hand and sat back on its heels. Tika noted that the topmost pair of nipples were fuller, the definite female look to the small body. She stood up, still holding the gijan’s hands, and smiled.
‘I am Tika. Do you have a name at last little gijan?’
The gijan’s head tilted to one side, then the other. The small mouth opened in a smile, revealing tiny pointed teeth. She pulled against Tika’s hands, rising to her feet and her wings flared open.
‘My life is yours. I am Leaf.’
Chapter Eight
Brin reported no signs of human habitation south, west or east for at least a half day’s flight, so Tika and her companions were able to relax while they waited for Olam’s wound to heal fully. They also knew that they would need to wait until both of the remaining gijan reached the point where Tika could help their wings from their bodies. The first gijan, the female Leaf, had been two days recovering, in a deep sleep, from the time her wings were freed. Gan estimated it would be ten days at least before they could think of travelling on.
Maressa and Pallin spent much of their time searching out herbs along the lake side. Riff had taken to flying with Brin when the crimson Dragon hunted. All of them watched Leaf’s development with absorbed interest. The first day, she furled and unfurled her wings, seeming to be fascinated by them. Then, the companions watched her begin to beat those amazing wings, lifting herself gradually further off the ground.
At twilight that day, she was suddenly flying, swooping erratically over Seela’s head. Storm and Farn also lifted into the air, curving round Leaf and encouraging her to chase them. To begin with she stayed quite low but as Storm and Farn spiralled up over the lake, the gijan gained more height and then she was above the two young Dragons, soaring and twisting, as though she had flown forever.
Farn and Storm drifted down to land, watching Leaf pirouette against the evening sky. A piercing, ululating scream reach them, and again. After momentary alarm, the companions heard the delight in the cry and knew it must be a gijan’s usual call of greeting. Leaf was breathless when she landed, her eyes glowing with excitement.
‘The mothers tell us stories of gijan flying when we are very small, but I never knew they were true stories,’ she exclaimed.
Her head came only just level with Tika’s chest but she threw her arms around Tika, enfolding them both in her glorious feathers. Leaf spoke in the Common Tongue of Sapphrea although still with a liquid trilling sound. Birdlike Tika thought suddenly, returning the tiny female’s embrace.
Over the next four days that thought recurred often to Tika. Leaf pattered around the camp, taking a deep interest in whatever anyone seemed occupied with. But when they collected at the fireside for meals or for their usual evening conversations, she was restless. At midday on the second day Seela solved the problem.
‘Rest on me little Leaf. I would be glad of your company.’
Often then the company saw Leaf perched happily on Seela’s massive purple back, the gijan’s feet dangling one side, her wings the other. Sometimes she lay on her stomach along Seela’s neck, her open wings drooping which gave Seela a most unusual aspect.
‘Her wings lie straight to her ankles,’ Olam remarked, watching Leaf apparently singing to Storm and Farn from Seela’s shoulders. ‘They don’t touch the ground as she walks, but she couldn’t sit on the ground comfortably.’
Once Olam drew their attention to the fact, of course it was obvious. On the fifth morning after Leaf’s waking, Tika was roused by Farn.
‘My Tika, another gijan needs you,’ his mind voice was urgent but calm.
Tika rubbed sleep from her eyes and found Leaf leaning over Storm’s back, peering at her. She looked frightened. She had paid only cursory attention to her litter mates so far, but clearly she was now disturbed. Tika called Sket and Maressa to prepare water and herbs again. Navan tugged Tika aside on the pretext of pouring her a bowl of tea.
