ARC: Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  He didn’t look over at her now, however, and she kept her thoughts to herself as he began to dress, a slight frown marring his brow. She had no illusions about their relationship. She had proved a moment of distraction for him, a few nights of fun to ease the stress of the moment, and she had no objections to that. When he had first pulled her into his arms that night after rescuing the Prince, she had neither fought him off nor demanded a declaration of intent when he kissed her. She had known what he wanted, and had desired the same. And so now she could hardly complain if he ignored her as if it had never happened.

  To her surprise, though, once he had finished pulling on his breeches and linen tunic, he came over to her tub and smiled, his hands on his hips. “Come, fair lady,” he said, holding out a hand. “You have been in there so long you will turn into a prune.”

  “I intend never to get out,” she stated, sinking in even further. “I did not think I would ever get clean again.”

  He laughed and flicked his fingers, beckoning her. “Come on. We have to deliver the Prince in the proper fashion today. We must not keep the King waiting.”

  “Of course not,” she grumbled, but she rose and accepted the towel he held out for her.

  “As to your attire,” he said, calling over a young squire to help him start buckling on his armour, “Manifred has provided you with a few items you might wish to don for the procession.”

  She opened her mouth to say she didn’t need any handouts thank you very much and she certainly didn’t want to garb herself in some frivolous lady’s gown, but the words refused to come as a female squire brought across a selection of the items Demitto had been referring to. Catena fingered the linen tunic embroidered with silver thread, and the finely woven thin woollen breeches. It was the expensive ceremonial clothing a respected female knight would wear, not the kind of thing a lady would wear to court. She caught her breath as Demitto’s eyes twinkled, and she realised how well he had grown to know her in such a small space of time.

  “Maybe I could borrow one or two things,” she said, and he nodded, pleased.

  In the end she dressed entirely in the new items, thinking if she was going to wear one piece, she might as well wear the whole lot. So she finished with the fine breeches, a dark green long-sleeved tunic with embroidered cuffs, and topped it with the white linen short-sleeved tunic bearing the beautiful silver embroidery.

  “I will not need armour?” she queried, feeling light and a little uneasy without her chain mail.

  Demitto shook his head. “This is but ceremonial,” he explained as the squire buckled on the highly decorative breastplate he had arranged to be sent back from Lornberg. “And besides, I think you will be glad to be free of mail today.”

  It was true; it was already exceptionally warm. She walked to the doorway and looked up at the mountain, observing the spiral of smoke that curled up into the sky. A scatter of rocks rolled down the side at the same time that a nearby geyser erupted in a high spray, startling her. Although Harlton had a sub-tropical climate, it did not experience this kind of seismic activity, and for a moment unease boiled in her stomach in the same way that the thick mud boiled around the hot pools behind the buildings.

  But she had too much on her mind to dwell on it for long. As she turned back to the room, Tahir came in, and she smiled to see him rested and dressed ready for his ceremonial procession into the city.

  The Nox Aves had managed to find some beautiful clothes fit for a prince. He wore a knee-length sky-blue tunic embroidered with silver and gold thread and tiny silver discs, which glittered in the sunlight. His dark blue undertunic and breeches provided an attractive contrast. The simple silver circlet on his brow announced his status as a prince representing one of the Laxonian lands. The shining oak-leaf pendant set with gems pronounced him the Selected for that year’s Veriditas.

  Even Atavus had been dressed up, with a silvery-blue kerchief tied around his neck.

  Catena came forward and took Tahir’s hands in hers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well enough.” His eyes looked bright and his smile unforced. The Nox Aves’s reaction to him on his arrival had completely thrown him, but she sensed he felt reassured by their veneration, as if his presence there truly was of some importance.

  Demitto slotted his sword into his scabbard. He looked magnificent, she thought, in his polished armour with the oak tree engraved on the breastplate, and once again he seemed to radiate the power and eminence of the place he represented. He came to give the young prince a hug, and Catena stepped back, allowing them this special moment.

  As yet, she remained uncertain of her role in the days to come. She had left Harlton thinking that after delivering Tahir to Heartwood, she would return there to continue her duties living the same life she had always done. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Demitto had implied she was an important figure in the Apex, and although he had refused to give her more information about what it involved, he had implied she would play more than a passing role. This had been confirmed when they arrived at Heartwood because, after Manifred had acknowledged Demitto and bowed to Tahir, he had come to Catena and kissed her hand, saying her name, and his eyes had told her that he knew who she was and was also aware of her future in a way she was not.

  But there had been no time to question him the night before as they had all been exhausted, and now it was too late. The squires wrapped them all in plain woollen cloaks, and then other members of the Nox Aves came to take them outside.

  “You will be taken via the postern gate back to the main road into Heartwood,” Manifred informed them, his curly brown hair blowing across his youthful face in the warm breeze.

  The lines around his eyes suggested he wasn’t quite as young as he seemed at first, she thought, and the others certainly seemed to defer to him as if he was their leader, which surprised her. As if reading her thoughts, Tahir said, “When do we get to meet Cinereo? I assumed he would be here.”

  Manifred’s eyes met Demitto’s in a glance so brief Catena wondered whether she’d imagined it. “Later. We have told everyone that you are arriving this morning. We will smuggle you out of the city, and then we will arrange for your arrival to be announced to the King, who will come to meet you and invite you to the palace.” He smiled at Tahir. “You will get the proper welcome you deserve. And I will see you later, young prince.”

  Tahir nodded, and they all mounted their horses. Catena turned her mare and followed the member of the Nox Aves as he led them out, but she puzzled on the brief glance she’d caught as they rode. The mysterious way in which Cinereo had appeared to Demitto suggested there was something… unusual about the man. But what exactly that was remained to be seen.

  They exited Heartwood via the postern gate without any ado, took a back road through the village that lay outside the main walls, headed south for a few miles and then circled back to approach once again via the main road. The Nox Aves member took their cloaks, and this time, as they approached Heartwood, horns rang out across the city and the waiting crowd began to turn and stare as they approached.

  “It is the Selected!” someone yelled, and a huge cheer went up. Young girls waiting with baskets full of rose petals threw them in the air so they scattered the floor in white and pink. Horns blared. People screamed and cheered, and Catena was genuinely touched by the hope and respect on their faces. Demitto may have painted the aristocracy as indifferent to the religious purpose of the Veriditas, but the people still obviously understood the importance of the ceremony.

  As they approached the main gates, more fanfares sounded and a man appeared beneath the raised portcullis. He sat astride a shining white mare, and there could be no mistaking his role. His clothes dripped with gold and jewels, and more precious gems glittered on his fingers and around his neck. On his hair he wore an elaborate crown, and his horse bore the livery of Heartwood – a green oak leaf sewn with gold thread and emeralds.

  Catena and Demitto flanked Tahir as they approached. For the first t
ime she became aware of the years of training Tahir had undergone in his princely role at Harlton, because the pomp and ceremony did not faze him, and he lifted his chin and sat straight in the saddle as they neared the King.

  The Queen sat sidesaddle on her horse just beside the King, and behind them rode several other obviously important dignitaries, dressed in their best finery and wearing imperious expressions. Pride surged through Catena as Tahir nudged his horse forward and announced his name in a loud, clear voice as if determined he would appear as important as any of the kings he faced.

  A herald called a welcome to the new Selected, and the King gave a brief dip of his head. He did not speak, though, and without further ado he turned his horse and led the cavalcade back into the city.

  Catena stared, feeling the King had snubbed her prince, but Tahir just waved to the crowd and followed. She glanced across at Demitto, who just raised an eyebrow. He had warned them many times about the King’s boorish ways, and she was beginning to understand what he meant.

  They rode through the town, the air filled with more flower petals and streamers thrown from the high balconies. Performers danced and juggled and breathed fire in the streets to entertain the crowds, and stalls sold cinnamon apples and meat pies that filled the air with mouth-watering aromas.

  Tahir smiled and waved, and Catena wondered how much of his apparent enjoyment of the parade was real. Perhaps he really was enjoying it.

  Personally, she had enjoyed the previous day’s entry to the city more. Today, her head ached from the humid weather and the too-bright sun. She hadn’t eaten and felt a little queasy, and the noise and crush of people made her uneasy. She looked across at Demitto, a smile creeping to her lips as she thought that he in no way seemed daunted by the attention. In fact she thought he probably thrived on it. As if someone had switched on a light within him, the distracted apprehension he had exhibited over the past few days had disappeared, and now he radiated power, and those in the crowd had to shade their eyes from the blinding light reflected from his armour as he rode by.

  Just then, he glanced at her and caught her watching him. She blinked, a little embarrassed, but pleasure rushed through her as his lips curved and he winked. She looked down demurely, but her heart raced.

  And that in itself was enough of a sign to confirm to her what she had been thinking since the moment she first set eyes on him outside Harlton. He had captivated her heart as easily as catching a butterfly in a net, and that was a huge mistake.

  Because something was approaching. She could see it in the air, which seemed to shimmer with anticipation and the promise of an event that would make Anguis tremble. She could feel it in her body, which tingled with expectation, like when a lover blows across the skin and hairs rise in response. And she could read it in Demitto’s eyes. As if he stood on a high hill looking into the distance, and could see the approach of something so momentous it was going to change their world forever.

  No, today was not a good day to have discovered she was in love.

  III

  Sarra had never been more scared in her entire life. Maybe the moment she had climbed down the ladder from her room in the Embers and had seen Comminor waiting at the bottom had come close to it, up until the moment she realised he wasn’t there to take away her baby, anyway. But life in the Embers had been relatively safe. People rarely died from accidents or physical confrontation. Death came through disease, or sometimes hunger, which had been one of the major problems: in the safe atmosphere everyone lived longer, causing the environment to become increasingly more crowded. But she had never felt her life to be in danger. And thus she was completely unprepared for the panic that enveloped her as she descended down the mountain.

  Part of the problem was the fact that the baby had grown to such an extent that her swollen belly made movement very difficult. She had not had the usual months to get used to her change in weight as most pregnant women did, and several times she fell, unaccustomed to having to adjust her centre of gravity. And the going was not easy anyway. When she first slipped from the Broken Room it was dark, and although the sky remained a dull grey-red from the sporadic fires that had erupted across the land, the ground was shrouded in shadow, and she had no lantern or other method of lighting her way.

  The mountainside was steep, filled with loose rock and ash that soon blackened her hands and stuck to her sweat-soaked skin. She was sure she must look a fright, but that was the last of her worries at that moment. Someone would eventually notice she had gone, and then they would try to come after her. And she had to get as far away as she could before that happened.

  She had no idea where she was going or why she had to flee. She did so from some deeply embedded instinct that told her she had to distance herself from the others before they made her return to the Embers. She had no doubt that Geve and Comminor were going to try to find a way back to the underground city, because what possible life could there be for them all in this lifeless place? It made perfect sense, and yet in her heart she knew she could not return.

  The ground trembled beneath her feet, throwing her off centre again, and she fell onto her hands and knees. Pain shot through her, radiating out from her stomach, and she clutched her bump with one arm, crying out as it felt as if someone had slid a knife above her pubic bone and twisted it.

  She waited, panting, and gradually the pain faded, but that only made her worry more. She had listened to the mothers talk in the common rooms, relating their tales of pregnancy and childbirth, and so she knew what was supposed to happen before the child was born. Her hand clenched into a fist in the soft ash and she cursed under her breath. No, no, no! She could not be in labour. Although she didn’t know where she was going, she knew she had to keep walking. And besides, she couldn’t have the baby here! She lifted her head and looked around at the boiling lava that bubbled and spat in the valleys, at the spurting geysers, the jets of flame erupting from the hundreds of volcanoes that littered the landscape. “No!” she wailed. What possible good could come of the baby arriving in this terrible place?

  Pushing herself to her feet, she struggled further down the mountainside. Ahead of her, the slope began to shallow, leading to an uneven landscape scattered with boulders and cooled lava flows, the occasional stump of old, burnt trees poking through the surface. Small creatures like the crabs in the Great Lake skittered across the grey rock, but she could see no other sign of life.

  Where was she going? Her feet slowed, and eventually she stopped walking and stared around hopelessly. The urge to continue filled her; she stubbornly ignored what she was beginning to think was an irrational hope – that she would somehow find something to make her believe the journey had not all been for nothing. Hope wasn’t a good enough reason to risk the life of her baby.

  The ground trembled and shook again and she fell once more, this time drawing blood on her right knee as it hit the rock. She cried out and sat back, unable to stop tears forming. She had never felt so lonely, so hopeless and helpless. “I wish you were here,” she whispered, although she wasn’t sure to whom she was referring. Geve? Comminor? The Arbor? Or something else?

  A blast of heat warmed the already-humid air, and she gasped as she looked up at the sky to see a huge shadow approaching from the north. A firebird…

  The creature loomed large in the sky and swooped towards her, only a few feet from the ground. She could not even conceive how big it must be as she had known nothing in her experience to compare it to. It was longer than the Great Lake, maybe even bigger than the whole of the Embers, and just as wide as it reached out its gigantic wings. Lava dripped from the flaming red and gold feathers, and she cowered close to the ground while it skimmed past her. Heat rose to engulf her, and for a moment it was difficult to breathe, the air so hot it burned her lungs as she breathed in, the ash so thick it stung her eyes and choked her.

  Had it seen her? She must be so small and insignificant crouched on the ground, her skin and hair probably now as black as the ro
ck around her. She tucked her chin against her chest and curled into a ball, remaining there even as the heat intensified and sweat poured from her, drying on her skin in seconds. Please do not let it see me… She wasn’t sure to whom she prayed, but she begged whoever was watching her – if there were indeed anyone – to help her.

  If the firebird had flown over her, it would have turned her to ash in seconds. But when it was only a few miles away, for no apparent reason it suddenly changed direction and banked, turning to the south-west. The intense heat lessened, and she lifted her head cautiously to see the creature growing gradually smaller as it flew, before it finally disappeared, leaving only a glow of orange light on the dark horizon.

  She exhaled – not realising until then that she’d been holding her breath – only to catch it again as her stomach cramped, the pain radiating out across her abdomen. She forced herself to breathe through it, but the ache was like nothing she’d experienced before, and by the end of it she was drenched in sweat and tears.

  How could she go through with this on her own? She glanced over her shoulder, shocked at how far she had travelled. She couldn’t possibly make it back up the slope to the Broken Room. She should have discussed it with the others – they wouldn’t have made her go back if she were in labour. They were in it together, weren’t they? Surely one of them would have understood her urge to stay?

  She wiped her face, forgetting until she saw her hand how it was covered in ash, and sobbed even more at the thought of how she must look. Yes, she’d coped on her own pretty much all her life, but this was different. She was truly alone, she was scared, she was tired, and she was in pain. How was she ever going to make it through?

  “You are not alone.”

  She looked up sharply at the voice and stared with shock at the sight of the man standing before her. He had not been there a few moments before – she was sure of it. He wore the same clothing he had worn the previous time he appeared to her: plain brown breeches and a colourful tunic, an intricate circlet on his braided brown hair.