‘Laykhina, Laykhina,’ the ko-venteela wailed.
‘I see nothing!’ cried the druin-ji. ‘Nobody is here.’ But the ko-venteela did not listen as they knelt before the apparition. Zastra took her crossbow, tied a wad of oil-soaked cloth to the bolt in the chamber and dipped it into the lamp.
‘Throw him in!’ the druin-ji screamed, desperate to reassert control. ‘The sacrifice must be made!’
But the foot-soldiers trembled as the Mother’s enraged face cracked, revealing hot lava beneath her blackened skin. She pointed her flaming pilu at the druin-ji’s chest. Zastra sighted along the line of the spectre’s arm and fired. Her fiery bolt plunged into the druin-ji’s chest, as if launched from the Mother’s pilu.
‘Laykhina! Laykhina!’ chanted the ko-venteela. The foot-soldiers joined their countrymen in kneeling before the false vision. Lorzan and Ithgol used the opportunity to free Hylaz from his chains. As they passed by, Ithgol bent over the fallen druin-ji and ripped off her helmet. A pale white face was revealed, eyes open in death.
‘Whiteskin!’ cried Padra. ‘She was a whiteskin. The Mother has saved us.’ No one tried to stop Hylaz and the others as they grabbed their packs and made for the entrance.
‘That’s enough,’ said Zastra. ‘Time for the Mother to go back to bed.’ The creature sank back into the firepit from whence she had come.
‘The Mother rose from the fires of Pacifa and killed the druin-ji,’ said Myshka in awe. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘I hope you now appreciate the value of my services,’ said Morvain smugly.
‘It was Gwylla’s imagination,’ Polina remarked. ‘The rest of us merely assisted with the projection.’
‘Yet without all our powers—’ Morvain protested.
‘I’m grateful to all of you,’ said Zastra. ‘Now, let’s get out of here.’
Ithgol and the Sendorans were waiting outside the cave.
‘Are you all right, Hylaz?’ Zastra asked.
‘I’ll live,’ he returned with the hint of a smile. Zastra turned to the ko-venteela.
‘Will you come with us?’
‘I’ve always wanted to see the Dreaming Pools,’ said Myshka. ‘I will gather some things and meet you outside the village.
‘I too will come,’ Xhoyal said with a smile. ‘Travelling with you is most interesting.’
‘That’s one word for it,’ Urbek said with a shudder. ‘I can think of others.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Kylen chewed her lip in annoyance. She had called an emergency council meeting and temporarily evicted all those living in the great hall. Those roused from their sleep had not been happy, but they had eventually departed, muttering and cursing, leaving the hall to Kylen. It was still empty. None of the council had turned up.
‘I see now the value of a Sendoran in charge,’ said Beregan sarcastically. ‘Our soldiers get the great honour of breaking rocks whilst everyone else lies abed or finds excuses not to help.’
Kylen bit back a retort, although she shared Beregan’s frustration. Little progress had been made on the fortress. Yelina, after many delays, had released twenty of her people. When Kylen asked about the rest, Yelina claimed they were ill. Yet this mysterious illness that ravaged only the Far islanders did not prevent their fishing fleet leaving port each morning. Nerika’s Golmeirans were even worse. They were all working hard, but not where Kylen wanted them. Most continued to tend their fields, or work in the iron mine. The smithies were busy, but instead of weapons and pickaxes they were turning out domestic supplies such as buckets and pipes, or hoops for water barrels. None of which would be any use if Thorlberd attacked. It was ironic that only the mindweavers, who she generally distrusted, had done as she had asked. The trainees now had lessons morning and evening and Dobery gave her regular reports on their progress.
The door at the far end opened and Dobery struggled across the threshold. His robe hung off his shoulder and he leaned on a staff of bent driftwood. He advanced slowly across the wooden floor towards them. Kylen clasped her hands together to hold in her impatience.
‘I do not need my skills to sense your mood,’ he remarked.
‘I said dawn. We do not have time to waste.’
‘Apologies for my tardiness. These days, even dressing is a tortuous undertaking. However, I felt it would be improper to turn up in my nightgown.’
‘The others have no such excuse. If Thorlberd finds Uden’s Teeth, he will kill Golmeirans and Far Islanders just has happily as Sendorans. Yet no one does as they are told.’
‘It is hard for Golmeirans to obey a Sendoran. The opposite is also true. You should know that.’
Kylen felt a pang of guilt, repenting every challenge she had made and recalling all the times she had prevaricated or questioned Zastra’s decisions. She was beginning to suspect that Zastra had handed her the leadership as a punishment. What had she said? You’re mistaken if you think it’s a reward.
‘Nevertheless, I am their leader. They should do as I command.’
‘And yet they do not. Why do you think that is?’ He looked as though he already knew the answer. Kylen bridled.
‘They don’t need to like me. They just need to obey.’
‘That sounds like something Thorlberd would say.’
Beregan put her hand on the hilt of her sword.
‘People have died for such insults, old man.’
Dobery raised an eyebrow.
‘And you wonder why you aren’t popular.’
Kylen signalled to Beregan to stand down. Zastra had suggested she talk to Dobery. Although she doubted the usefulness of an old man who could barely dress himself.
‘Well, Dobery, what would you advise?’
‘It is tough work, breaking stones and building walls, yet you expect everyone to jump to it, simply because you command it.’
‘What should I do? Beg?’
‘People have different motivations. Some prefer to be asked nicely, others will help only if they see the benefit to themselves.’
‘If they can’t see the benefit of being able to defend themselves against Thorlberd—’
The door opened again and Nerika strode in, all pinched lips and sharp elbows. Yelina followed, her eyes flicking from side to side as if expecting an ambush.
‘About time,’ Kylen remarked.
‘I do not appreciate being summoned before dawn,’ Nerika returned.
‘And I do not appreciate the lack of progress on our fortifications. My soldiers have been turning out piles of rock from the quarry but neither of you have delivered your end of the bargain.’
‘I recall no bargain,’ Nerika said tartly. ‘Only you, making demands.’
‘We Sendorans cannot do everything.’
‘You cannot expect men and women to prioritise your vanity project over building a home for their families. Or feeding them, for that matter.’
‘Vanity project?’ Kylen almost choked in disbelief. ‘I have seen what Thorlberd and his Kyrginite armies do to unprotected homes and farms. I won’t let it happen here.’
‘How typical of the nobility – always wanting to build more castles. Thorlberd has turned his eyes on Aliterra. He doesn’t have the resources to strike here as well, even if he knew Uden’s Teeth existed.’
‘Too many people know about Uden’s Teeth for it to remain secret forever. It only needs one unprotected mind to be scanned by a black raven and the game is up. Why do you refuse to see that?’
‘Perhaps we can find a way to encourage everyone to work together?’ Dobery suggested.
‘Good luck with that,’ remarked Nerika. ‘Sendorans refuse to work with my people and Far Islanders do barely half the work of others. That’s if you can get them to do anything at all.’
Yelina swelled up.
‘That’s a vile slander. My people are as diligent as any. They just do not recognise this Sendoran’s authority.’ Kylen was suddenly unable to restrain a grin.
‘What’s so amusing?’
Dobery asked.
‘I think I’ve figured out how to motivate everyone. Seeing as we seem to be unable to work together, maybe it’s time for a bit of friendly competition.’
Kylen ordered Beregan to gather every Sendoran at the foundations of the fortress. She spread word that there was a prize to be won, for those prepared to earn it. When Golmeirans and Far Islanders saw hordes of Sendorans heading towards the southern landing site, they dropped what they were doing and followed, overcome by curiosity. When everyone was assembled, Kylen addressed the crowd.
‘It is said that Golmeirans and Far Islanders cannot build as well or as fast as Sendorans,’ she cried. Her claim was met with cat-calls and whistles.
‘Far Islanders couldn’t build a wall if they had mindmovers to help them!’ a Sendoran cried.
‘Sendorans are too busy fighting among themselves to build anything,’ protested a Golmeiran woman.
‘Let us see who is best,’ cried Kylen. ‘We Sendorans will build the tower, the Golmeirans the left-hand wall, and the Far islanders the wall to the right. Whoever finishes first gets bragging rights as well as the first pick of the new houses on Mendoraz once they are built.’
She grabbed a chunk of rock and added it to the low wall that was to become the central tower.
‘What are you waiting for?’ she asked.
Chapter Twenty-six
Kastara looked at her embroidery square in dismay. The half-finished shape was supposed to be a flower, but instead it looked like someone had sneezed bright strands of silk all over the white linen. Somehow her thread had got itself knotted again. She tugged at her needle to force the knot through the linen rather than having to cut it out and start over, but she only tore a hole in the fabric.
‘This is a waste of time!’ she exclaimed, throwing her work down in disgust.
‘Iced buns,’ said Podara with a smug grin. The freckly girl was Kastara’s partner for this exercise. It was hardly fair. She was two years older and had much more practice at mindweaving. She was bound to be better at it. Kastara scowled at her. Gildarn came to a stop next to them.
‘I take it Podara is correct – your favourite cake is iced buns?’
Kastara grunted in acknowledgment.
‘You must not allow yourself to get frustrated. Emotions are a distraction.’
‘Can’t we at least be doing something useful as a task?’ asked Kastara. ‘Like sword fighting or archery?’
Gildarn raised an eyebrow.
‘You think I should set you loose on deadly weapons when you can’t even control a needle? The point of the exercise is to protect your mind whilst concentrating on something else. Sewing requires skill and concentration. Well done, Podara.’
Podara’s embroidery was a perfect representation of a butterfly. Gildarn handed Kastara a fresh square of linen.
‘Perhaps if the secret you are trying to conceal is something more personal, you might be more motivated,’ he said. ‘Is there anyone in the class that you find good-looking?’
Kastara flushed to the tips of her ears and snapped up her mental defences. She wasn’t attracted to anybody in the class, but she had developed something of a crush on Torvin, Mata’s eighteen-year old son. It would be too embarrassing if Podara found out. Before Zastra had left, Torvin had often stopped by the cabin, bringing messages from Mata. She could see him now, in her mind’s eye, tanned and bare-chested. He had a shy smile, and Kastara dared to think he liked her, although he had barely spoken three words. Determined to keep her secret, Kastara went on the attack, digging into Podara’s mind. A thick blanket stifled her attempt. She felt Podara’s snake-like probe wriggle through a gap in her mental barriers. She tried to repel it, but too late. Torvin’s toned torso burned the back of her eyelids.
‘He’s too old for you,’ Podara said with a pious shake of her head. ‘You should stick to someone your own age.’ She continued to worm deeper into Kastara’s head, eager to unearth more secrets.
‘Stop it!’ cried Kastara. A solid ball formed in her chest. It expanded outwards, bursting through her skin and brushing aside everything in its path. The legs of Podara’s stool scraped across the floor, carrying its occupant with it, still clutching her embroidery as her mouth gaped in shock.
‘Pani-berry pie!’ Kastara exclaimed in triumph, as Podara’s mental blanket dissolved.
‘Stop it!’ snapped Gildarn. Kastara bit her lip and allowed her shield to collapse.
‘Sorry.’
‘I won’t tell you again. You are not to use that power until you can control it.’
‘I said I was sorry,’ Kastara said sulkily. Podara took her stool and retreated as far from Kastara as possible.
‘Since we are struggling with practical aspects, perhaps we should move to something more theoretical,’ Gildarn said. ‘Anyone know what a mindlock is?’
Nobody did but Kastara perked up. She liked nothing better than learning something new.
‘It is an ancient and complex technique and not something I am going to teach you,’ he began.
‘Then why tell us?’ asked Kastara.
‘Mindlocks are unethical, and quite rightly banned. They can only be employed against non-mindweavers, since any half-competent mindweaver should be able to detect one if it is planted in his or her head. However, since half-competence is still a distant hope for most of you, I will teach you to recognise the symptoms.’
‘What symptoms?’
‘I am about to tell you, Kastara,’ Gildarn said irritably. ‘First you must understand what a mindlock is. Think of it like a spider, burrowing into your brain. It weaves a web and departs, but the web is still there.’
‘But what does it do?’
‘Kastara, you don’t have to interrupt every time I pause for breath. As you know, a mindweaver usually needs a line of sight and to be close to their target for their power to work. However, a mindlock can stay in place even if the mindweaver is far away. The subject has no idea they are being controlled. The mindlock can be an idea – a belief even. Or it can be a suggested response to a stimulus.’
He paused again. Kastara tapped her foot impatiently.
‘Any questions?’ He looked hopefully around the room. Kastara’s hand shot up.
‘So, if someone starts believing ridiculous things, it means they’ve been mindlocked?’
‘Who is to say what is ridiculous and what is not? Better to look for behaviour that is out of character. For instance, I would be extremely suspicious if you ever kept quiet long enough for someone else to ask a question.’
That brought several titters from among her classmates. Gildarn continued.
‘A mindlock can be easily detected if you know what to look for. Kastara, since you seem so interested, perhaps you would volunteer?’
‘You’re going to make me do something silly?’
‘How would we know?’ he asked scathingly. ‘Let’s try something straightforward. In response to the word “woodcock”, you will hop on one foot.’
Kastara wasn’t sure she liked the idea but she didn’t want to appear gutless. She felt Gildarn’s touch and instinctively blocked it. He pressed harder and broke through her defences. She really needed to practise blocking. She watched helplessly as he formed a tangle inside her skull, but aside from that, she felt nothing.
‘Woodcock.’
Unable to control herself, she leapt off her stool and hopped on one foot. Everyone began to laugh. She tried to stop but could not.
‘Take it out!’ she cried, even as the knot inside her exploded, forcing Gildarn out of her head and the mindlock with him. Gildarn staggered backwards, arms cartwheeling, and crashed against the empty hearth. The shutters rattled furiously and a pair of ceramic bowls shattered as they were flipped up against the wall.
‘Get out!’ cried Gildarn, his hair awry. ‘Until you learn to control this… this thing of yours, you will not be allowed back in class.’
Kastara stormed out. I’ve had enough of this stupid lesson any
way. At least she was no longer hopping like a fool. Myka was sitting with his back against the cabin wall, his ebony skin blending with the narrow strip of shade.
‘Chucked out again, Kastara?’ he said. ‘Missing lessons will hardly help with your master plan of becoming the best mindweaver in all Golmeira.’
She flung herself down beside him.
‘I’m fed up with this stupid island.’
‘Is it really the island you’re angry with?’
‘How am I supposed to control this bubbly, shieldy thing? Gildarn hasn’t a clue. Not even Master Dobery had any useful advice, except that I should master my emotions.’
Myka grinned. ‘Fancy Master Dobery expecting a teenage girl to control her emotions? I thought he was wiser than that.’
‘Very funny. It’s all right for you. Everyone loves your power. Anyway, shouldn’t you be practising with the other mindweavers?’
‘I left them to it. It’s all too competitive, especially since your sister took the best ones with her.’
‘What do you mean?’
Myka shrugged. ‘Everyone likes to show off.’
Excepting his talent for healing bones, Myka was not a very good mindweaver. He could block well enough, but he couldn’t read minds or control others. He could tell if people were lying, but that was about it. It didn’t seem to bother him. He had never been particularly happy to be a mindweaver. Kastara still couldn’t understand why. The door of the cabin opened again and Findar joined them.
‘Surely you haven’t been thrown out as well?’ Kastara asked.
Findar flopped down beside her. ‘I persuaded Gildarn to let me work with you. I said it might be safer that way. Poor Podara still looks like a feeding fish.’ He formed his mouth into a troutlike gape.
‘She was prying where she shouldn’t,’ Kastara said with a giggle.
‘And Thorlberd’s mindweavers will do the same. You’re lucky that your secrets aren’t that important.’
Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set Page 81