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

by CK Dawn

  She turned and walked towards the cliff. The grass went right to the edge but she wasn’t intending to go too close. It might be treacherous. Then Sheesha’s wing came down in front of her and his head curved round as he tried to look at her with both eyes. She smiled at him.

  “I wasn’t going to jump, Sheesha,” she said. “Not this time.”

  He made a grumbling noise in the back of his very long and deep throat. She leaned against his wing and looked out to sea. There were islands down there. Not big ones, but even the smallest was covered with trees and undergrowth.

  “I bet there’s food you can eat on those islands, Sheesha.” She pointed. “Why don’t you have a look? These villagers are too scared of you eating theirs.”

  And Sheesha looked where she was pointing. He snorted and launched himself off the cliff in a long glide, followed by Shingul. She turned to see why Looesa hadn’t gone too but Gally was on his back.

  “You can get down, Gally. Looesa can go with Sheesha to get some food.”

  As Gally slid from the ziri’s back, Looesa made a very ungainly run at the cliff edge and launched himself off. For all they were awkward on land, the zirichasa were beautiful as they swooped across the intervening water and circled the first of the islands.

  “Kantees!”

  She tore her eyes from the ziri and saw Yenteel beckoning to her. She walked over, not in a hurry, as she had no real interest in what these people had to say.

  “This is Bolda,” he said indicating the middle-aged man with the bow that stood in front of the others. The men were of various ages, young and old. All looked stern—apart from the youngest who was eyeing her the way young men often did, with his eyes directed at her chest instead of her face. She was used to it.

  “Bolda wants to know what you did with the zirichasa.”

  “I sent them to the islands down there to feed,” she said to Yenteel, and then addressed Bolda directly. “I guessed you were concerned for your goats.”

  “You sent them?”

  “I suggested it.”

  “You talk to the ziri?”

  Kantees shrugged. She wasn’t going to explain that it wasn’t like that. She said things and sometimes Sheesha understood what she wanted, and sometimes he didn’t. Let them think she could make herself understood all the time.

  “They were hungry and needed to feed.”

  “Will they come back?”

  “Of course.”

  “We have children here.”

  “They don’t eat children.” Wild ones might if they were hungry, she supposed, but Kantees was reasonably sure that Sheesha wouldn’t. “Especially if they’ve just eaten.”

  Yenteel interrupted. “Bolda knows something about the tekrak.”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “It’s one of the reasons they were cautious about us,” said Yenteel.

  “The man can speak for himself, can’t he?” And she looked pointedly at Bolda.

  “The monstrous thing flew over at midday.”

  “Which way was it going?”

  Bolda pointed further along the coast.

  “At midday?” She looked at the position of the sun, behind the light cloud. “We can’t be far behind it.”

  She almost wished she hadn’t sent the ziri to feed. If she had known before, they could have mounted up and gone after it.

  “Why do you seek it?” said Bolda in a cautious voice that almost suggested that he didn’t want to know.

  “They have kidnapped and most likely despoiled children, destroyed one village we know about, and have murdered. I intend to have revenge upon them.” She said it in a matter-of-fact way, which was the only way she knew how to deal with what they had done without letting out the anger she held in her heart.

  “Did they murder your kin, Mother?”

  Kantees hesitated both at the question and his choice of honorific for her. “No, not my kin.”

  “But you declare a vendetta?”

  Was that what it was? She nodded. “It must be done.”

  “Their crimes are against both Kadralin and Taymalin,” said Yenteel. “There are no others who would stand for both, save for Kantees who commands the zirichasa.”

  Her heart froze at Yenteel’s words. What pattern was he weaving? Was he attempting to trap her in a legend? Trying to make her into something she wasn’t?

  She wanted to deny it and make him take the words back, but it was too late. She could see it in the eyes of the men who stood there, see the idea take hold and worm into their minds. She could almost see the way she grew in their eyes—or perhaps it was the way they shrank. Before they had been defiant and willing to fight or even kill her to protect what was theirs. But Yenteel had made them slaves to an idea.

  There was nothing she could do now. She would deal with these raiders and then she would turn her back on Yenteel. If she chose to leave there was nothing he could do to stop her. That would stop him doing any more harm. These people did not need someone else to become slave to. There was too much of that already in the world.

  They were all looking at her as if they expected something. She glanced at Yenteel, and she could almost see his grin although his face showed nothing of it. It wasn’t on the outside but he was triumphant within.

  “We need to rest,” she said finally. “But have to remain here so the ziri know where to find us when they return. And then we’ll leave.”

  “I will send someone with food and water,” said Bolda.

  She knew better than to insult him by refusing. The group turned away but left two guards.

  Kantees lay down on the grass and closed her eyes. She wanted to shout at Yenteel but it would have to wait. He settled himself cross-legged facing her not too far away.

  “I hate you,” she said in a conversational tone that she did not think would carry to the villagers on guard. “You people say that you only follow the World’s Pattern, but the truth is that you bind the world to your own will. You twist it into the image you want.”

  “I won’t deny it.”

  “Good.”

  “But that’s not the whole story. My master is working for a future for us all.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows. “What about my choice, Yenteel? What if I don’t want this future your master envisages?”

  “Then you will prevent it from happening.”

  “I don’t have that sort of power.” She lay back again and stared at the mottled cloud shapes above her. She was glad the sun wasn’t shining. It would annoy her on a day as depressing as this.

  “Power is a strange and fickle thing,” he said. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of saying the right words at the right moment. Those who try to grab power find it impossible to hold, and it slips through their fingers. Their mistake is in thinking power is something that can be taken. That’s not how it is. The Hamalain—even the Jakalain who are less tyrannical—their power is maintained only by force. It is easy for them to lose it, should they slip for only a moment.”

  “You’re going to tell me what it is like, I suppose?”

  “True power is in giving. It is the willingness to give.”

  “So you manipulate these poor people into thinking I am some sort of goddess who they can worship and follow?”

  “A nudge in the right direction. There may come a time when you need all the help you can get.”

  Kantees stood up and walked away from him. She went back to the cliff edge and stared out and down at the islands. She couldn’t see Sheesha or the others but that probably meant they were on the ground, eating.

  She looked up at the sun again. Time was getting on and they needed to get moving. But the ziri would need time to digest before they could move on again.

  And they needed a plan.

  Thirty-One

  “I want one of your children,” said Kantees to Bolda as she ate some of the food the villagers had brought. More fish, naturally, but this time with kilikash mashed up on the side melted with goa
t cheese. She was surprised how good it was. The ziri had returned and were resting while they digested their meal.

  Bolda frowned at the question, thinking the worst. Kantees hoped her idea might help to dissipate those Yenteel had planted earlier.

  “Why?”

  “The child needs to be brave and small. They don’t have to be young but should look young. And preferably I’d like a girl.”

  “But why, Mother?”

  Kantees cursed inwardly; this was having the reverse effect because she was asking for something outrageous.

  “Ulina,” said one of the other men, sitting behind Bolda. “She is crazy and has no family.”

  Bolda liked that idea. He nodded and the man who had spoken jumped to his feet and went back towards the village.

  “What do you mean, crazy?”

  “She climbs where no one who valued their life would climb,” said Bolda. He pointed at the cliff. “She went down to the sea there because she had found the eggs of a nesting bird on the edge and dropped one.”

  “But it would be broken,” said Kantees.

  Bolda shrugged. “She would not say why. But she went down and returned.” Then he pointed behind himself at the waterfall that thundered from the mountains. “She climbed to the valley from which the water pours.”

  Kantees stared. It was higher than a Ziri Tower. “Did she say why she did it?”

  “Because she wanted to see.”

  The conversation lapsed as she, Yenteel, and Gally finished the food that had been brought. She thought she might need a rest to digest the kilikash, which now sat heavily on her stomach. It had been good, though. She said so and that pleased Bolda more than it should.

  The girl arrived at a run. She was dressed in a smock that had been sewn and patched so much it seemed most of the original material had been replaced. And it was dirty, as were her bare feet. Under the dirt and ragged shift she was pale as any Taymalin and so thin she might have been a spirit barely occupying physical form.

  “I am Ulina, Mother, and I would like to ride the ziri.”

  Something about her and the way she spoke made Kantees smile in a way she had not smiled in a very long time.

  “Greetings, Ulina. If you want to ride the ziri then you must call me Kantees.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that is my name.”

  If Kantees had been concerned as to whether Ulina would be as clever as she needed the child to be, that worry was blown away by the quick, brown eyes that took in everything. “You have three ziri and there are three of you. What will I ride?”

  “You will ride Sheesha with me.”

  “Then I can go.” It was not a question.

  Kantees laughed. “Yes, it seems you can. But this will be dangerous and you may be killed. We may all be killed before the sun sets tomorrow.”

  Now came Ulina’s turn to laugh. “Every day we may die. I do not fear death.”

  “But do you welcome it into your heart?”

  “I do not! Because each day is new and there are new things in it. I want to see everything.”

  Kantees stood up. “Very well, Ulina, I will accept you on this journey, and when it is done you can come back and tell everyone what happened.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t want to come back. I have discovered everything there is to know about this place. I want to see new things. I will only come if you will take me with you forever, Kantees of the Ziri.”

  Kantees looked at Yenteel, who was sitting nearby. Not only had his words worked their patterning on the mind of Bolda and probably those of his men, but it had already spread to the village.

  He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “There is nothing more powerful than ideas, Kantees. They burn like fire through wheat fields. And they cannot be extinguished.”

  “But they can be lost and forgotten, Yenteel,” she said and turned back to Ulina. “I promise that I will take you with me, Ulina, until you grow bored with me, or one or other of us is dead.”

  “Blood bond!” said Ulina. Kantees sighed. Her palm was still tight from where she had cut it to make the paste for the patterning back in the forest. Perhaps she could get away with a small cut on the thumb in this case.

  She knelt and pulled out her knife. It was none too sharp after all the use it had had and needed some time with a sharpening block. But Ulina plunged her hand into the neck of her smock and pulled on the chain that hung there until out came a tiny sheath from which she drew a tiny blade.

  There were patterns on its surface.

  “You must be careful,” said Ulina. “This never needs sharpening and it can cut the toughest cloth as well as skin and bone.”

  Kantees was aware of these patterned knives but had never seen one. They were quite valuable. She wondered what the child was doing with it and looked at Bolda, who shrugged.

  “She had it with her when she wandered into the village.” No wonder they were willing to let her go on this trip. She wasn’t really one of theirs. No matter.

  Kantees sliced her thumb so a drop of blood oozed from it. She handed the tiny blade, shorter than her little finger, back to Ulina who did the same and they pressed their thumbs together.

  “There,” said Ulina. “Now you must keep your promise.”

  “I would have anyway.”

  But Ulina ignored that and put her blade away.

  “How old are you?” said Kantees. The girl looked to have perhaps seven or eight years but she seemed older. Ulina shook her head.

  “She was three years at most when she turned up here. That was seven years ago.”

  “Seven boring years,” said Ulina.

  “Better you take her,” said Bolda, “or one day she will anger someone too much. As it is she will die an old maid.”

  Kantees turned her back on them and went to the ziri. She stroked along Sheesha’s neck feathers, blue and gold. He was beautiful. And he didn’t argue the way people did. The way she did.

  “Are you ready to go?” she said.

  In response, Sheesha pushed back onto his hind legs, stretched his wings to their full extent, and pushed his head into the sky. He relaxed and shook his feathers back into position. He was ready.

  Kantees looked over her shoulder. “Time to go.”

  If this worked the way she hoped, they would find the tekrak on the ground and would be able to put her plan into action. Ulina wasn’t vital to the plan but it would help if she could do what was asked of her. Kantees was sure she would at least be willing to try.

  Ulina appeared at Kantees’ hip, looking up at Sheesha’s head and neck.

  “He’s big.”

  “He could eat you in one swallow.”

  “Then I would not be able to come with you.”

  “But you would be with me. In his tummy.”

  Without being asked Sheesha put his head and neck down so Kantees could mount.

  “Sheesha, this is Ulina, she’s going to be riding with me. I know you are strong enough to carry two, but she is very light anyway.”

  Sheesha grumbled.

  “What did he say, Kantees of the Ziri?” said Ulina.

  “He said he is very strong and won’t even notice you.”

  Kantees put her leg over the ziri’s neck, then lifted Ulina up and in front of her. There was a little adjustment to be done but Ulina was so small she could sit between Kantees’ legs and still be partly on the wings.

  “You can hold on to his feathers,” said Kantees. “But don’t pull them hard. He won’t like it and they will just come out anyway.”

  With that she gave Sheesha a little squeeze with her thighs. He went back on his haunches and launched himself upwards. Kantees realised she had forgotten to check on the others but a quick glance showed her both Gally and Yenteel were with them.

  Ulina squealed as each wing beat lifted them higher. Kantees turned the ziri along the coast and he kept climbing.

  “Keep your eyes open for the tekrak
on the ground, Ulina.”

  “I will.”

  The clouds had cleared and, in the east, the mountains were bright against the darkening sky. Kantees was not sure what she was feeling as they travelled along the coast again with the sun descending into the sea. She was excited they would finally catch up with the raiders, but the excitement was mixed with dread and apprehension.

  Without Daybian it would be just her and Yenteel against so many armed men. She thought she knew what she needed to do but it depended on many things she did not know, or could only guess.

  The sky darkened as the sun burned into the horizon. She hoped that the moons would not appear too soon. They needed as much dark as possible.

  Stars emerged as the sky went black and still they flew. The temperature dropped. Kantees put her arms around Ulina, partly to keep the girl warm but also to stay warm herself.

  The ziri were not bothered by the dark, just as she thought. It was always assumed they wanted to sleep at night because that’s what their owners and keepers did. The zirichasa were happy to oblige but it seemed night-time sleep was not a requirement.

  The sea was one shade of dark, reflecting the stars, but the land was a deeper dark with the occasional fire or houses lit from the inside.

  “Kantees of the Ziri,” said Ulina, and she pointed.

  Kantees followed the direction the child was pointing and saw the open campfires highlighting the great round body of the tekrak. Her heart jumped, her breathing quickened, and fear crept through her fingers.

  The time had come.

  Thirty-Two

  Bright Lostimal had stayed below the horizon so far but Colimar had risen, casting its wan red light across the land. Perhaps it was for the best; they needed some light.

  Kantees and Gally stood with the three ziri on the edge of the cliff. From below the breaking waves roared their constant thunder. Yenteel and Ulina were making their way inland towards a low ridge. The raiders’ encampment was out of sight over the top.