Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Gally stopped and looked obstinate. She had asked him where he had found the coin and that’s where he wanted to go.

  “Was it on this side of the stream?” she asked.

  “Other side.”

  “That’s why you were so wet.”

  “Fell over.”

  “I know,” she said. “If it’s the other side then we can go round.”

  It also looked as if the channel was narrower there. She headed round and, still reluctant, dragging his feet, Gally followed.

  The stream here could be jumped easily. It had cut into the ground, running deep and fast, before it opened out and pooled in the area before the trees. She had not noticed before but the ground dropped off on the other side of the trees.

  It was then she noticed the grass on this side was ripped up. Something had dug into the ground and torn huge holes into it but only over an area that—was exactly the size of the giant tekrak. She walked around the churned up area. The tekrak had come down here, landed and dug its roots into the ground, just like the small ones did.

  They had camped here.

  She looked round and found three fire pits. The ground was disturbed here as well but not in the same way. She was no tracker but it was clear people had made fires and cooked. There were even a few bones about the place. A blanket, damp and torn lay close to the trees. But if only she had been a tracker she might know how long they had stayed, how far behind them she was.

  It was enough to lift her heart.

  Something pulled at her sleeve. Gally.

  “I show you.”

  “Yes, of course, sorry.”

  She let him lead the way back towards the stream. It was less muddy on this side, because the land was a little higher, and there was a low bank where the ground fell away to the water.

  Gally leaned over and pointed. Then he toppled into the water. Kantees was there in a moment. Gally was on his knees pulling at something in the water, partially covered by the mud; it was a body face down in the water. Gally splashed about, his feet sinking deeper trying to pull the body up.

  Kantees laid her hand on his shoulder. “Gally, stop.”

  “Help him, Kantees. We have to help the master.”

  “It’s too late, Gally. He’s dead.”

  The boy stopped, released the clothing and stood up straight. “Dead?”

  “He’s been there since the raiders stayed here. A few days. He’s dead.”

  “Sorry, sire.” Gally’s words were directed at the submerged body.

  Kantees gave a sad smile. “I’m sure he’d be happy you tried to save him.”

  “I did try to save him.”

  “You did.”

  “But he’s dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do we do, Kantees?”

  Good question. He must have come with the raiders, so perhaps there was a clue to who they were on him. The mud had all but claimed him and after a few days in the water she did not relish what his face would look like. She could see one of his hands and that was white, bloated and torn where something taken bites out of him.

  But if there were any clues she needed to know them.

  It took a long time to get him out. It seemed that he had been sinking slowly and the mud wanted to keep him. It clung and sucked at him. Both of them were soaked and filthy by the time they forced the water to give him up.

  Finally they had him on the higher bank and water seeped from him.

  She was surprised that his face was not as bad as she had expected. It was bloated but had not been chewed. In fact all the skin that had been stuck in the mud was untouched. The exposed parts however were a different matter.

  All manner of tiny water insects and little crawlers—even small fish—made their escape as the body was brought out. Even now she could see he was covered in them. They were probably inside as well.

  She wanted to let him dry out in the sun a little but he as soon as he dried out he would start to smell and that would attract all many of creatures. They might be able to deal with, or scare of, some of them but there was a limit.

  So she searched him.

  He had been rich. The clothes were of better quality than the Jakalain wore. She took his shoes, which would be usable when they dried. With Gally’s help she got his jacket off. If he had a money pouch that was gone. The coin must have been his. She doubted that one coin—that could feed her for a year—would have paid for his clothes.

  The only other thing she was interested in was how he had died but there was no indication on his body. No blows that she could see, and no stab wounds. But if he had been murdered why had they taken his money but not his clothes?

  She shook her head. The Taymalin had strange customs who knew what they were thinking.

  Flies were already becoming a nuisance around the body, Kantees looked around a little worriedly. It must be well past midday now, and she was getting very hungry. Something caught her eye and she jerked her head round. She was certain there had been a movement in the trees.

  The afternoon was getting warm. He would rot even faster. What little wind there was would be carrying the scent out across the plain. She knew there were no large animals near the Jakalain castle but they were not near it any more. There could even be nachasa.

  “Let’s go,” she said and set off back the way they had come carrying the coat and boots. If Yenteel recovered he might be able to tell them more.

  Once across the stream she glanced back. Half a dozen creatures loped out of the trees and stopped. They were being cautious, checked the skies and all around as they moved but they were going straight for the body.

  That he was going to get eaten did not bother Kantees. It was just nature. She was more concerned about how she was going to deal with her own hunger. Even if she had a weapon, other than a knife, she had no idea how to hunt or set traps.

  She knew nothing of survival in the wild.

  Fourteen

  Shingul had moved while they had been away and was back with Yenteel, lying alongside him with her wing across his body. Unlike the way she had placed it on his body in the night, this time she had it arched to shade him from the sun.

  Kantees went back to the stream and refilled the water bottle after quenching her own thirst. Gally, in the meantime, was going through Shingul’s feathers looking for bugs. She could probably leave him to do the simple tasks. He was used to them and they still needed to be done.

  Yenteel’s skin was cold despite the warmth of the day. She knew that could not be a good sign. He drank the water she offered him in an unthinking reaction, for his body knew what to do even though he did not wake up. He only lost half the bottle’s contents, so he took in a good amount.

  She untied the bandages and pads covering his wounds. Each of the three wounds was red and leaking a transparent fluid, but the inflamed areas did not seem to have spread so she was happy with that. And although he did not wake, his breathing seemed to have settled to a slower and deeper pace.

  She could not be sure but she thought perhaps he might not die.

  “Thank you for looking after him, Shingul,” she said. The ziri raised her head and neck and turned back to look at the girl. Her eyes were wide apart on her head but lidded like a person’s, not like some of the smaller creatures.

  Her time with the scholar had taught her that there were several classes of creatures but that they could be divided into two main groups: the ones that resembled people in their skeletons, their skin and their blood, and those that resembled the Slissac. The two major divisions had groups within them, but it started to get complicated and she was never able to hear enough to explain it.

  She had heard enough to know that the zirichasa were on the Slissac side but that did not stop her side using them. People rode kichesa on the ground, and there were horses too. Though not many of either on Esternes as far as she knew.

  Then there was the other complication. While humans—and the Slissac, if any still existed—could perfor
m magic through the use of patterns, there were creatures that had magic woven into their very being. The tekrasa, for example, with their fire tubes and the gas in them that let them rise into the air even though they were only plants. Or the wolves that never made a sound yet moved like a single creature as if they were joined in their minds.

  She looked at Shingul. The ziri had no built-in magic. At least she did not think so, as Romain had never spoken of it. They were clever and understood a lot, but no magic. They simply loved to fly as fast as possible.

  A booming call sounded across the wilderness, deep and loud and seeming to go right through her. Shingul raised her head and called back in the same voice. Kantees had never heard them make a sound like that. She did not even know they could.

  She stood and, squinting against the brightness, scanned the skies.

  Shingul boomed again, this time it was a sequence of three short calls that she kept repeating every few moments.

  Then another boom from the sky. Kantees saw a dot that resolved rapidly into two and then they had wings and were gliding down fast. Shingul was looking the same way and stopped her booming.

  As the two ziri closed in and grew in size she saw that both of them carried something in their claws. And the somethings had legs and heads dangling limply. Her mouth watered and she turned to the fire. It was still hot and the embers glowed. She added more tinder, which was instantly consumed in flames so she switched to twigs and a couple of smaller branches.

  A shadow went over followed by thumps as two dead animals hit the ground. They looked like horses only much smaller. Then she realised: They must have found a wild herd and picked off a couple of young ones. She was not experienced with preparing meat to eat, but she knew the basics and having a stream nearby was useful.

  The necks of both animals were broken and there were claw marks in the bodies where they had been carried.

  Sheesha and Looesa landed nearby and waddled over, nowhere near as elegant on the ground as in the air. Sheesha picked up the carcass furthest from Kantees and dropped it in front of Shingul who put a wing claw on the body, clamped her jaws on a leg and ripped it off.

  Kantees picked up her knife and set to work on the other body.

  It took a long time to get enough of the skin off to be able to hack at the muscle. She put one whole leg over the fire, then spent more time chopping one of the other legs into much smaller pieces which she draped on sticks next to the flame in the hope they would cook faster. She set Gally to watch them. He was as hungry as she was but they were not so far gone as to want to try to eat raw meat.

  She noticed that Sheesha and Looesa allowed Shingul to eat as much of the other as she wanted. Then they finished it off between them. They did not argue but Looesa always let Sheesha take his portion first. Perhaps they had eaten when they had been away.

  Was this normal behaviour? She had no idea. Most animals in her experience, and that included other Kadralin, would consume as much as they could before letting another eat, if they had a choice. The zirichasa seemed quite civilised—and thoughtful, since they had brought back food for everyone.

  The meat was delicious. Perhaps more so because of their hunger.

  Kantees kept the fire up and roasted the haunch. She took the remains of the carcass to the stream and set about removing the innards. It was a disgusting process that turned the water all manner of unpleasant colours.

  She glanced at where the body of the dead man had been laid. No one had moved him since, and she was glad she was not too close. The chakisa-like creatures were still ripping their way through his flesh and innards with little screeches of anger as they fought over some tidbit or another.

  There were several smaller ones squatting on their tails making a loose circle, waiting to dash in and grab something. The ones on her side noticed what was happening in the water and investigated. Once they realised there was food here they jumped into the water and gobbled up the parts she was discarding.

  Back in the castle it was forbidden to feed the chakisa that infested the place, because they ate the bugs and smaller creatures and would not do their job if they were not hungry. These creatures were like them but twice the size.

  Kantees did not notice at first, since she was focused on the carcass, but when she looked up they were closer. Perhaps half a dozen of them. And they were watching her.

  When her knife went into the carcass and the remains floated away they would leap on them, arguing and snapping with their little pointed teeth. But then they were closer again.

  One of them ran a few steps closer, its little feet splashing through the water.

  Kantees suddenly felt unsafe. It might be that she could stop one of them, perhaps even two, but six or seven could take her down even if they did not even come up to her knees. Then there was a sound behind her. She turned her head slowly. Another one.

  Only a short distance away were the fire, Gally and three zirichasa for whom these things would be barely a mouthful.

  She suspected that if she abandoned the food they would ignore her, but she was unwilling to give in to these little bullies. She took hold of the leg of the remains and stood up, which sent them scurrying back a few paces. Since she had stripped out the innards what was left was much lighter.

  “Sheesha,” she said not loudly but enough that her voice would carry.

  His head popped up and he looked in her direction. The movement did not escape the ones in front of her; every one of those little heads turned towards the camp. They did not move; the threat was too far away to distract them from the food they thought they could get.

  Then she heard the flop and thump of a big wing moving.

  The little creatures scattered, including the one behind her that zipped past. Their movement attracted the attention of the others eating the dead man. They saw Sheesha and responded by fleeing back into the woods.

  Kantees gave a short laugh and dragged the remains of the little horse back to the camp where she put the rest of it on and in the fire to cook.

  “That smells good,” said Yenteel in a voice that could barely be heard.

  Fifteen

  Kantees was surprised at how relieved she was when Yenteel woke up. He gratefully accepted more water and he seemed able to use his undamaged arm. His colour looked better and his skin seemed more alive.

  She cut a piece of meat into tiny pieces so he did not have to chew and fed them to him.

  Shingul moved away and went to the pool with Looesa. They went in and splashed about, almost as if they were having fun although Kantees assumed they were just cleaning themselves. Seeing the ziri like this made her realise how little she knew about them, really—how little Romain or any of the other keepers knew.

  Having eaten and drunk, Yenteel went back to sleep.

  She had hoped to talk to him about the dead body, and she was becoming concerned about pursuit. It was true that no one would be flying to catch them—they would have succeeded already—but, while a ziri could fly fast, if they stayed where they were someone would catch up with them.

  Especially if they followed the smoke from the fire. Kantees looked in horror at the rising column. It must be visible for miles. She poured what was left of the water onto it, then ran down to the stream to get more.

  She paused only long enough to fill it—noticing that Looesa and Shingul were preening each other while sitting in the water and stirring up the mud.

  It took another bottle of water to put the fire out completely. Gouts of steam were rising but they dissipated quickly.

  Then Sheesha boomed. Kantees looked where he was looking, back the way they had come, and saw a growing patch of dark against the sky. A booming call echoed back. Kantees shook her head. It was too late. She had been away only a day and it was already too late. Someone had found her.

  The ziri went into a spiral, descending fast.

  Who could ride that well? Who would decide to do it? There was only one answer and she knew it before she even saw
his face. Daybian. And he was riding old Jintan. Kantees was surprised the beast could do it. She wished he had not been able.

  As the ziri spiralled in for a final landing, she fetched her knife and put it in her belt at the small of her back so Daybian would not see it.

  Then, before she could think to stop him, Gally ran up to the landing ziri and took the reins just as he would have back at the castle. She had thought to call it home, but it was not that any longer.

  “So, at least one person here still knows how to respect their masters.”

  Daybian unbuckled himself and slipped down to the ground. His movements were smooth, with no sign he had been in the saddle too long.

  He peeled off his riding gloves. There was a short sword at his waist but he did not go for it. Kantees did not know what to say. She felt crushed and broken, her life now numbered in days.

  Sheesha had watched the arrival and now moved so that he stood beside and slightly behind Kantees. It was a comfort to have him there even though there was nothing he could do—he had no understanding of the situation beyond perhaps her feeling of unease.

  Daybian’s eyes narrowed as he followed Sheesha’s movement but even so he walked forward. The fire stood between them still smoking slightly, she must have missed some embers after all.

  “Am I really that ugly?” said Daybian.

  Kantees could not help herself. “What?”

  He shook his head. “No respect at all.”

  “I cannot commit any greater crime than I already have,” she said. “I do not need to show you any respect.”

  “It might go better for you at a trial if you did.”

  “Death is death, sire.” She twisted the last word with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

  “Regardless,” he said. “My original question still stands.”

  “I didn’t understand it.” A lie, but she didn’t care.

  “You hit me over the head with Sheesha’s shit shovel, just because I wanted to lie with you. I did not think I was so ugly that you would feel the need to do that to escape me.”