Jepaul

by Katy Winter

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The travellers rested back after their encounter with Harnath. Javen and Belika were tended to and Javen began to be more himself. The Doms each spoke with a Companion, their praise unstinting because Javen had haltingly given them a graphic description of Harnath’s activities over the syns. So vivid and uncompromising were Javen’s words that all realised what Belika had done, to one who’d become a monster of depravity and cruelty, was entirely justified. Her pungent description of her actions and Knellen’s terse but explicit corroboration of events brought raised eyebrows and a great deal of approbation and approval.

  “Will he recover?” asked Saracen, open-mouthed and awed.

  “Maybe, in time, but it’s doubtful,” came the off-hand response. “But the days of his personal pleasure are over.”

  “Oh Belika,” gasped Sapphire, caught with another gust of laughter. “We knew and agreed you’d allow yourself to go with Harnath, but I, for one, never dreamed you’d deal so appropriately with the man.”

  The humour of the situation and the realisation of what Harnath would now have to endure forcibly struck all of them and the group became convulsed with mirth. Javen’s experience, however, was more sobering.

  “Why, Javen,” asked Quon, after others had drifted away, “did you not stay with the Castelan Varen here? It took considerable courage for you to accompany us and allow Harnath to begin renewed torture and the first stage of a purge. You’re badly hurt.”

  Javen’s voice was still a croak, but he said huskily, the tremor in his voice not entirely gone,

  “I believed my being there would distract Harnath from you. His delight at being able to hurt me again, and his sheer anticipation of raping Belika and purging Knellen, meant all the Elementals stayed out of his mind while he was preoccupied with us. He came to the cell to watch. All he could think of was me and what he planned for the others. Your names didn’t even come up.” Javen sighed tiredly and his head drooped. “He was the one to raise the first implement of torture, Dom, and it was he who forcibly administered the purge.”

  “Javen!” whispered Quon. His voice sounded distraught. “Belika’s retribution will go some way towards your revenge for intolerable cruelty, but I promise you one day you’ll meet him face to face and he will have to answer to you. There will be a reckoning. Do you believe me?”

  “Of course, Dom,” murmured Javen.

  “Rest now, my good man. We ride before dawn.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

 

  Knellen spoke long with the Doms. He handed Ebon the key which was looked at keenly by them all, Jepaul included, before Ebon carefully withdrew the book Quon gave him for safe-keeping, and, opening the leaves, pressed back the key into the page. When he did, the page quietly closed and the book couldn’t be opened.

  “What we don’t know,” said Dancer thoughtfully, “is whether we’ve fully shut the gates.”

  “We will soon,” came the reply, rather acidly, from Sapphire. “And those already through appear to be a formidable host.”

  Knellen and Jepaul went to sit companionably by the fire with Saracen, Belika and Javen, the latter still rested back comfortably, his colour markedly improved and a tankard of ale in hand from which he contentedly quaffed.

  “What do you think of Jepaul with the Nedru?” asked Dancer, glancing over at the young man tenderly holding Belika close.

  “I don’t,” responded Quon curtly.

  “Are you worried he controls them with ever-increasing ease?”

  “Once, before he was with Salaphon, yes, but not now, no.”

  “He says he understands their mind symbiosis. Demons, Quon, it took us so long to do that.” This time it was Ebon who spoke.

  “True.” A rueful smile went with acknowledgment of the comment. “Jepaul is an Elemental in an entirely new mould that fascinates me.”

  “Will he always be under control?”

  Sapphire’s voice had an edge to it. Quon caught it and hesitated before he answered, slowly and deliberately.

  “Doms, I watched Jepaul at each encounter, and at the second I worried he’d not hold the Red Council at bay. He did. But what I most noticed was his expression and his eyes. The Nedru are anathema to him and always will be, as will all like them, but mostly I observed the extraordinary control that manipulated then reined in the Red Council. But it was done only for the brief moments necessary, then that young man backed right away from any further use of power. He wields it if he must, but I know he backs from it again and again. Jepaul doesn’t seek power. It actually repels him and, I think, each time he’s forced to use it, it actually shrivels a little of his soul that is a long time in returning. You see it in his eyes. He suffered too deeply from the misuse of power to ever make the same mistake. He isn’t the Progenitor.”

  He ended on a slightly pleading note that had Sapphire beside him straight away. Dancer and Ebon crouched by him too, Dancer with an arm around the smaller man.

  “No, Quon, we all know that. You don’t need to distress yourself over how you think we may react to Jepaul’s power. Like you we accept it and are grateful for it too. Sapphire?”

  “Aye. Quon, your bond with Jepaul is so deep we don’t doubt you understand him in ways we don’t. Believe me, I trust that young man as you do and enjoy the Elemental fusion he brings. My question centres on how his power grows so very fast at the slightest opposition. Even you have to admit it’s slightly unnerving in one so very young.”

  At that Quon gave a reluctant smile and nodded.

  “I know,” he agreed. “I know.”

 

  By dawn the travellers were mounted and ready. No one spoke of where they went, but the name Belika gave the Doms gave them the answer to that, and it was Ebon who directed travel. Javen was cheerful and appeared more himself, Belika stayed close to Jepaul as they rode because it was he who now helped her tend her hurts, and the weather stayed cold in a way that had Quon mutter again. They’d travelled about ten miles when Knellen slewed in the saddle and said sharply,

  “Possible trouble.”

  “What?” demanded Dancer.

  “Riders come.” Knellen tilted his head in a typical Varen gesture. “A number of them.”

  He immediately called up the Castelan Varen whom he ordered into the aggressive formation automatic for them. Knellen headed it. He scented the air. The thunder of galloping horses grew steadily closer until it could be seen a substantial number of horsemen approached. Sapphire counted at least a hundred men or more and became edgy. Saracen cursed and withdrew back behind the Varen. The other Companions and the Doms did likewise though they all appeared less troubled than Saracen.

  As the riders came into clearer view, the travellers saw Knellen straighten in the saddle, his posture alert. The riders slowed until the horses fell to a walk and once near Knellen, one rider came forward. It was Lisle.

  “You seek us?” Knellen’s voice was cold.

  “We have left Arrain-Toh,” answered Lisle. “Brother, early this morning we were summoned to present ourselves to the Red Council. I knew what was to be done but none of our brethren did. I told those of my hatching and harvesting, a group selected at seeding to be elite Varen, and they expressed a wish not to participate in the ritual insertion.” A rippling shudder shook the Varen’s large frame. “We tried to tell others what awaited them. Many didn’t respond to our warning. Those who did are with us. The others, most in fact, believed they went to the Red Council for something else. They didn’t believe forced insertion would occur.” Another shudder shook Lisle. “I saw the first few done, something I have not seen before. That made most others realise, just in time, what awaited them and they hastened to follow us.”

  Knellen eyed him.

  “What is your wish, brother?”

  “We ask that we travel with you.” Lisle paused and eyed Knellen then all the travellers speculatively. “Knellen, I know all of you defy the Red Council and many of us have suffered at Harnath’s han
ds as well. I also believe that there will be a fight against those like Harnath, something you believe also. Am I wrong?”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” was the non-committal reply.

  “You also said those who travel with you, like those Castelan Varen behind you, had to take an oath. Is that still so?”

  “It is so.”

  “Then I will take it, brother, because I believe you have saved my life and that of my brethren. I have spoken with them and they accept the necessity. By now our insertions would be complete and irrevocable.”

  “Then you may dismount, brother, and lead the way for the others. It will be done now.” Knellen gestured to the Castelan Varen behind him who dismounted and came forward. “You will fully disarm and give your weapons to my Varen. Then we shall proceed.”

  While this was done Knellen rode to the Doms to explain what occurred. Neither they nor the other Companions were surprised by the arrival though Saracen said something under his breath.

  “While you sort all this out we may as well dismount and have something to drink,” suggested Ebon with a decided twinkle in his eye.

  Knellen smiled briefly then rode back to the milling Varen.

  “You know,” observed Dancer, in tones of amusement, “Knellen will soon have a private army.”

  “He already has,” retorted Jepaul on a grin.

  “ Aye, lad, he has, and all the better for us.”

  “You know, Quon,” went on Jepaul reflectively, “Knellen told us the Varen take an oath to serve their masters the Red Councils, but also through them the Cynases, as their guards.”

  “Yes, lad, that’s so.”

  “And the Red Councils are regarded as religious icons who protect and endorse their chosen Cynases.” Quon nodded. “The Varen, the upholders of the rule of both, also swore allegiance to their Mythlin in a binding lifelong oath.”

  “You notice I don’t argue, Jepaul.”

  “Then Knellen must have done these things, yet he’s quite flagrantly taken a different turning from the usual Varen behaviour, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he has. I never thought we’d see such a thing happen on Shalah.”

  “Is it being with us, your having the writhling removed, being on the Island or his being touched by Lesul?”

  “Yes, all of those. But there was something different about him before then, lad. Varen don’t usually experience the kinder emotions. That’s not inherent in their breeding and wouldn’t have suited their use for their masters, but Knellen responded to you and made a most uncharacteristic gesture by coming to find me so I could come to your aid. Clearly, he wasn’t the normal Varen. He’s probably seen as an aberrant because of that. I have to wonder what his fate would have been had he not been chosen to accompany us. The writhlings are ghastly creatures that ultimately consume their host in the cruellest way, but I suspect Knellen would have suffered more than most because he has higher sentient emotion and empathy rare in any Varen.”

  “So the oath these Varen make at the moment to Knellen, and through him to me, supersedes all others.”

  “Aye, young one it does. That is truly remarkable, Jepaul, and puts them beyond even their Mythlin.” Quon gave a fruity chuckle. “Knellen’s a very, very clever man.”

  “So where does this leave Cadran and Gabrel?”

  “With us, Jepaul. It’s time we went to meet them.”

  “Meet them?”

  Jepaul’s head came round with a jerk.

  “Aye. Saracen and I both sensed they have left the Vene home beyond Castelus. Saracen senses they move in an easterly direction which will bring them directly into contact with us.”

  “Won’t they be endangered coming alone?” Jepaul’s voice was worried.

  “No, no, lad,” laughed Quon. “Scry for them if you wish to reassure yourself, but you’ll find, I think, though I may be wrong, they’re not alone. Don’t ask me why I think this, Jepaul, I just do.”

  Jepaul eyed Quon questioningly, then, with another grin, sat cross-legged and thought deeply, his mind searching out with effortless ease. And it was then he saw a large band of people. He allowed himself a very gentle unobtrusive approach but kept distant. It was enough for him to discern a tall young man astride a large grey horse, surrounded by Gabrel and a surprisingly large escort of Grohols who walked with pugnacious determination. It was clear they struggled to adjust to the daylight, just as Saracen did syns before. To Jepaul’s astonishment he saw these Grohols, larger than Saracen and more heavily built, were heavily armed, as were Gabrel and Cadran, the latter a youngster grown to youthful manhood. He even had the outline of a beard. That made Jepaul blink.

  Jepaul returned thoughtfully to Quon and told him what he’d seen. Quon’s response made him think even harder.

  “Well, well, clearly the Vene know confrontation looms close, Jepaul. I wonder what they’ve sensed. Something has prompted them to respond in this manner. Cadran and Gabrel are travelling with Grohol Earth guards, Jepaul. I’ve not seen one of them in syns. I didn’t even know they still existed. There must still be hundreds of them. I wonder.”

  “What have the Vene sensed?”

  “Earth movement or disturbance, Jepaul. They’re not the only earth creatures.”

  “No, I know,” murmured Jepaul. He added, hesitatingly, “We move ever closer to confrontation, don’t we?”

  Quon smiled affectionately up at the younger man.

  “It seems so, Jepaul, but we’re all here together and with you. And time gives answers. Salaphon taught you that.”

  Jepaul stooped to give his mentor a quick hug.

  “I’m not afraid, Quon. With you all there’s a sense of oneness that will never leave me.”

  “Or us, lad, or us.”

  Jepaul wandered quietly back to his horse while the Doms simply looked at each other but made no comment. Quon just smiled.

  And their delay was lengthened by even more Varen thundering into view, singly and in groups, their gasped response to Lisle showing how unusually distressed they were as they dismounted and hesitantly asked for Knellen. The last to arrive, a younger Varen, was white to the lips at what he’d seen and escaped from, his tale of others less lucky a grim one. There was a long silence while all Varen digested the news of the fate of their brethren. No one felt equal to saying anything.

 

  It took time for Saracen to adjust to having so many Varen around, but when he saw their unspoken deference to, and respect of Knellen, he was inclined to be more accepting. He told the Doms he’d be happier when the Grohols arrived with Cadran and Gabrel and didn’t show the slightest surprise when Quon spoke of the Grohol guards accompanying them. It was as if he expected them. He remained distant and latently mistrustful of the Varen, though his faith and trust in Knellen was patent.

  Javen stayed thoughtful and reserved and Knellen self-contained as he always was. He gave little away. Belika, her encounter with Harnath not thought about, remained aloof from other than the Doms and the Companions and her bond with Jepaul continued to deepen. They were so much more than lovers it made the Doms eye her with interest mixed with concern, the latter because they all had an unspoken belief that Jepaul may not always be on Shalah and Belika would be more than bereft.

  Her bond with Ebon became more profound as well, the older Elemental aware of her affinity with fire. Quietly, he began to take her, very slowly, beyond basic elemental level. The other Doms did the same with their Companion – Javen with Sapphire, Knellen with Dancer and Quon with Saracen. None of the Companions was especially aware of this but Jepaul was. He watched but said nothing. The power and control of the Companions steadily grew as the days passed. They had a long way to travel and though there was an unspoken urgency to keep moving, no one seemed in a hurry.

  The Varen responded unhesitatingly to Knellen. The latter reorganised the men into more efficient units, put one of Lisle’s elite guard at the head of each and began to answer to Companion. It was a title Lisle began to use after he heard t
his was how the group of four with the Doms were frequently referred to. He learned that Knellen expected them to call Jepaul Master. Unquestioningly, they did. And they simply respectfully referred to the other Elementals as Doms.

  As the days passed Lisle and the Varen began to also refer to Knellen as Commander. He now had over four hundred Varen under his direct authority. They were formidable. Freed of allegiance and fear they would be every bit as threatening as those who stayed with the Cynases, though they lacked the driven, blind obedience of those who had writhlings inserted. Lisle still shuddered at what he saw and could have been forced to endure. That Knellen was alive after such an experience awed every Varen.

 

  It was many weeks before Knellen, with his farsight, could report with confidence that a band headed directly towards them at a very brisk pace and would be in view in a day. The meeting did come the next day. Gabrel was delighted to be re-united with everyone but especially with Javen, and Cadran was a little overwhelmed as he immediately sought sanctuary with Knellen and, again, with Jepaul. The Grohols greeted Saracen affably and with the ease of long association, but they were suspicious of the Varen, wary of the Companions and highly respectful of the Doms. Lisle noticed they venerated Quon.

  The Grohols numbered over a hundred, so the group had suddenly become larger. Knellen and the senior Grohol guard, who accepted Knellen without question and a friendliness Lisle noticed wasn’t extended to any other Varen, spoke long, before the Grohols agreed to be integrated with the Varen for the purposes of defence. But they answered to their own. Knellen calmly accepted that stipulation and he wandered off with Dral, the senior, to help organise and settle the Grohols into the camp. The Varen had never seen Grohols, other than Saracen, so were fascinated. They also thought they looked extremely tough and decidedly uncompromising.

  Dral spoke long and earnestly with the Doms, as he explained why they accompanied Cadran and Gabrel. The Doms listened with gathering concern.

  “Have all the Venes, across Shalah, this sense of movement?” asked Quon, frowning.

  “Indeed they have, Maquat. It’s been a unified sensation.”

  “And they think, after aeons, that the Huyuks stir once again?” Dral nodded. “Is this possible?”

  “It is what’s sensed, Old One. Like you, we’d hope not, but so much is wrong on Shalah with Cefors again loose to prey. Maekwies and others forage and feed.”

  “Demons! Have you seen this?” demanded Dancer.

  “The Cefors are closer to us now and, yes, our Vene has sensed the Maekwies close and knows they feed.”

  “And the Huyuks?”

  “They’re ancient, Dom, but if they’re restless and decide to move again, even just to obey their master, then…” Dral’s voice tailed off.

  “We understand,” said Sapphire curtly. “Your warning, Dral, and that of the Venes is timely and appreciated.”

  “How did you find young Cadran?” asked Ebon after a long pause.

  Dral smiled broadly as he briefly glanced across to Cadran with Gabrel, Javen and Knellen.

  “The Vene said to tell you he wears the same jewellery as Jepaul and also says he shows the same characteristics too. The Vene also comments that Cadran appears to have an inexplicable bond with Jepaul, different from that he has with Knellen and with Gabrel.”

  “Indeed,” responded Quon.

  “Now I wonder why that might be?’ quipped Dral, with a shout of understanding laughter before he left the Doms for his men.

 

  Cadran helped set up camp with Javen and Gabrel but it was clear he wished to be close to Knellen. The men obliged. That evening Knellen made it clear he wished to be alone with Cadran, so everyone respectfully left them together. Knellen eyed the very tall young man. Cadran went to his knees.

  “Master.”

  “Rise, young one. I am not Master. You must remember to call me Knellen.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “You have grown a great deal and are now a young man. Do you comprehend your origins?”

  “Not entirely. The Grohol said you’d tell me and Gabrel loved my mother. So did I.” The voice wavered and broke.

  “It is sad Marilion died, Cadran, but Varen like those about you did not have a chance to know a parent and you, boy, are Varen.”

  “My mother said I was.”

  “You have now seen Varen other than me. Do you see anything of yourself in them?” The young head nodded. “Tell me.”

  “My teeth are similar though not as pointed. I think my head shape is like and my build is more Varen than my mother’s heritage. She told me she was once from the city of Montegna.”

  “And your father?”

  “I think of Gabrel as my father,” shrugged Cadran.

  “Not so, boy.” Knellen pointed to a mattress. “Settle down while I tell you your origins.” He eyed the young man measuringly. “Some of it will distress you. Do you wish Gabrel or Jepaul to be with you?” Cadran shook his head. “Then, Cadran, this is your history. Do you know anything about Varen?” Again there was the shake of the head. “Nor presumably about the fate of those reduced, through one means or another, to be candemaran?”

  Cadran stayed silent. Knellen spoke dispassionately. His discourse was thorough and told brutal truths that had Cadran bite his lips, hard, tears sometimes starting to his eyes as he heard what was done to his mother and what her fate was to be. He learned he was to be torn from his mother’s womb as an abomination and why. He almost cringed at what his natural father had done. When Knellen fell silent, Cadran could barely speak. When he did his voice shook.

  “The Mythlin simply used my mother for pleasure?”

  “That is so. Varen do that, Cadran. It is how they are. They are bred to be hunters and often use their prey before despatching it.”

  “And you say my mother shouldn’t have conceived. Why?”

  Knellen’s description of the procedure for sterility those selected to be candemaran underwent revolted Cadran. This time tears spilled over.

  “Cadran, you had to know. Why Marilion did not undergo this procedure I do not know. Presumably the Mythlin wanted one as yet unsterilised and also selected her for singularly prolonged sessions in a way that was highly unusual. Varen usually use then dispose of candemaran in one way or another. Marilion was kept with the Mythlin for his enjoyment over a long period so she was presumably pregnant to him while he still took her, something he didn’t realise because he left her before it became noticeable. When it did, then her only option was to run away. She knew what her fate would be if she didn’t. She was considered by the Varen to have defiled the Mythlin by having conceived from another, an intolerable insult and an affront to Varen that had to be dealt with. Varen do not reproduce themselves that way.”

  “He raped her, Knellen, again and again. How could she help it if she conceived?”

  “Varen do not think that way, Cadran. Candemaran are strictly for use. They have no other purpose. They were not selected for breeding.”

  The silence was unbearable. Knellen went down beside the shaken young man, an arm about him. He allowed Cadran to fully give way to his emotions, then rose to get two tankards he filled with ale and brought back. He lounged down on the mattress next to Cadran, who absently took his tankard, drank deeply and sniffed.

  “Cadran, you must understand what part of your heritage is like. It does not mean you are that way, or for that matter all Varen, but it is how Varen are bred. They are not bred with higher emotions as such and are insensitive to others in ways repugnant to most. Genetically we are simply bred to hunt and guard.” Cadran sniffed again. “We cannot be blamed for how we have been genetically engineered, boy. We cannot actually help what we are.”

  “My mother cared for you and deeply respected you, Knellen, and told me I must respect all Varen.”

  “You must only offer respect, Cadran, where it is earned.”

  “Gabrel said you saved my mother.”

  At that there
was a twist to Knellen’s lips.

  “Yes, Cadran, I was not prepared to see her torn apart through no fault of her own.”

  “Did you know pity?”

  Cadran turned his head up to Knellen, his eyes searching the usually inscrutable ones watching him. Knellen gave a faint sigh.

  “Yes, boy, I did.”

  “Then, Knellen, I deeply honour and serve you, just as my mother wished me to do. It honours her memory.”

  “And is all credit to you, boy,” responded Knellen, a hand gently touching the young shoulder. “And, Cadran, remember, you are half-Montegnan; that part of your heritage should give you pride. You look like your mother for colouring, boy, though you clearly have Varen heritage. Take the best of both and you will be a man who can take pride in who and what he is. You are unique. There has not been a half-Varen born on Shalah before you.”

  Cadran leaned into Knellen and the two remained together until night fell.

 

  Cadran and Jepaul sparred once more, the Doms quietly taught him, as did Gabrel and the Companions, but it was Knellen who now had Cadran in charge. He trained and challenged him and made the younger man toughen significantly. He didn’t spare Cadran any more than he did Jepaul. Cadran responded. He kept well away from the Varen, shivers shaking him when he looked across to where they and the Grohols set their camps night after night. It was Gabrel who brought him to an acceptance of the Varen side of his heritage: Cadran finally and reluctantly acknowledged he was partly one of those with whom they travelled.

  It was some weeks later that Cadran, with Knellen, deliberately entered the Varen camp. Eyes had looked at the young man who kept his distance. Now the Varen saw one who partly physically resembled them but was quite unlike for his colouring and build. They were baffled. Knellen drew Cadran forward.

  “This is my sygnat,” he announced calmly and with finality.

  Cadran, prepared, stood unmoving. Lisle and the other elite Varen stared incredulously.

  “Your sygnat?’ gasped Lisle.

  Knellen likewise stood emotionless, his expression unreadable.

  “That is so. As such, your oath to me extends also to him. You will make sure all Varen with you understand this.”

  “Indeed, Companion.”

  Lisle bowed as did the Varen nearest him.

  “And,” went on Knellen calmly, “Cadran will take his place among you so he learns to be a Varen. That opportunity has been denied him though you can clearly see he is a Varen.”

  Not one Varen wished to contradict Knellen but some longed to point out to him that this was a most unlike Varen indeed with colouring and expression quite unlike any other. The young man had the height, but his build was less brawny, the bulkiness ameliorated to a slenderer physique, and his skin tone and hair colour, the hair long and wavy unlike Varen cropped heads, was strange to them. Even the eyes, Varen coloured, were darker and much bigger and wider opened. Lisle considered Cadran a very handsome young man but he correctly guessed his conception was not from full Varen harvested seed, was more than unusual, and he suspected there was a mystery to this youthful Varen that would reveal itself in time. He was intrigued. Knellen was a very unusual Varen.

  “Lisle, though Cadran is my sygnat, I am placing him under your command. He knows to obey you and he is to receive no special treatment because of his status. I shall, of course, continue to oversee his progress.”

  Knellen turned his head to Cadran.

  “You will obey Lisle, Cadran.”

  Lisle stepped forward. “Come, young brother. I shall settle you down.”

  Immediately Cadran moved forward, his head slightly bent in the Varen way Knellen had taught him. He was now well versed in Varen protocol and surprisingly comfortable with it.

  “I answer to Cadran.”

  “And you will call me Master,” responded Lisle showing his teeth. He turned sharply. “Follow!” came the snapped order.

  Cadran, as Knellen’s adopted son, began his life as a half-Varen in a Varen world of rigid order and discipline, both mental and physical. He wisely questioned nothing, his obedience and compliance expected and promptly given, his training tougher than that imposed on him even by Knellen. No quarter was offered him. He was frequently sore and bruised. He responded.

  After only a matter of weeks all associated with him saw a significant change in him. Cadran’s musculature suddenly and unexpectedly developed and he began to have more of the physical look of the Varen, was extremely fit and, said Lisle to Knellen one day, began to find his feet among those to whom he was unquestionably related. Knellen watched and approved. Cadran would very soon physically and mentally hold his own. It was what the Doms wanted. Knellen would ensure it was so.