Dawn reached out further with her Whisperer sense. Although most of the people were gone from these parts, she could still feel the earth alive and well around her – the trees shaking in the breeze, the stream rushing and gurgling on its long course toward the Inland Sea. There was even a deer, silent and alert under cover of the trees, watching as the horse and rider passed by on the road.
Dawn wondered whether Valderin or the others had found anything. But Ebony would have told her if they had. She knew Ebony would be feeling as frustrated and ashamed as she was. They had failed badly. Dawn’s thoughts turned to the matter of defending the city of Meridar. How could she banish so many Narlaw without the earthstone? Only a third of the kingdom’s Whisperers had arrived at the palace so far. Some, she knew, would already have run into the Narlaw and wouldn’t make it to the palace at all.
A horrible chill swept through Dawn’s body as she realized that the kingdom might really fall this time, on her watch as Palace Whisperer. She had stayed positive for so long, certain that there must be a way to overcome the Narlaw. But what if the earthstone was their only chance of survival? What if that chance was already gone?
A movement further down the track caught her attention and she peered ahead to where an old barn was visible between the tangle of trees. There was a well there, too, and a small, slight girl bent over it, lowering the bucket on its rope.
Dawn rode toward her and the girl turned, standing back from the well, looking uneasy. She couldn’t have been more than six years old.
Dawn climbed down from her horse and approached the girl. “Sorry to disturb you,” she said. “I’m from the palace. Have you seen a cart come this way? A grocer’s cart?”
The girl shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve seen a cart today,” she said. “Most people have gone to Meridar, but we’ve got cows here so my father says we’re staying.”
She was dressed in the plain skirts and apron of a dairy farmer, but around her neck was tied a scarf of brilliant blue. It looked like silk, and the girl’s hand rose toward it when she noticed Dawn looking.
“That’s pretty,” said Dawn. She smiled, trying to put the girl at ease.
The girl blushed. The scarf looked out of place on her – out of place in this poor, remote village. She nodded and slipped it from around her neck, holding it out to Dawn with her eyes cast down in embarrassment.
Dawn felt the luxurious smoothness of the fabric as she ran it through her fingers. She recognized the colour. All she needed was to be sure…
And there it was on the inner lining: the royal insignia and, beneath it, the initial ‘O’.
“Did someone give this to you?” asked Dawn, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice.
The girl shook her head. She looked scared now.
“Don’t worry,” said Dawn. “You’re not in trouble. It would help me a lot if you could tell me where you got it – that’s all.”
The girl spoke quietly, staring at the mud. “I found it in the road,” she said. “Last night after leading the cows in.” She pointed further along the road. “Down there by the end of the barn.”
Dawn nodded. “Clever,” she whispered.
It was a sign from the princess. The demon had brought her this way.
“Here.” She handed the sash back to the farm girl with a smile. “You may have saved us all,” she said.
The girl stared up at her, completely puzzled, but she took back the sash and clutched it tightly to her threadbare milking apron.
Dawn thanked her and rode out on to the path, staring down at the mud. There were cart tracks here, faint but readable.
She cast out into the sky, reaching for Ebony’s distant presence.
Ebony! she called. Bring Valderin. Bring everyone!
Rain became sleet and sleet became snow. The thin grass of the hilltop was buried in white and a layer of quiet descended.
Star slipped inside the wind shrine, snow falling in clumps from her thick fur. It’s all clear, she whispered to Mika. At least for a while.
Mika nodded her thanks, but she didn’t feel the relief that the news should have brought her. She sat close to the slumped, exhausted figure of Astor, watching her mentor breathe. Suri stood beside them, gently nuzzling Astor. Mika knew that the bond Astor and Suri shared was probably the only thing keeping Astor from collapsing completely.
“Why are you still here?” Astor muttered. “Your journey to the palace is everything. You mustn’t wait.”
Mika blinked against the onset of tears. Each time Astor spoke her heart leaped inside her. How could Mika leave her like this? It was impossible.
Star came and rested her head on Mika’s knee in a silent gesture of support.
“Have I not tutored you well?” asked Astor, raising her head to look Mika in the eye. “Have I not earned your respect?”
“Of course,” said Mika.
“Then why do you disobey me?”
Zabeh shifted uncomfortably where she crouched by the door. She looked restless, agitated in a way Mika had never seen before. Being struck by the elder demon must have left its mark.
“I’m not disobeying you,” Mika said. “It’s just that … we can’t leave you here in the snow. There may be more demons…”
“You can and you will,” said Astor, finding a new strength of voice. She raised a hand, gesturing to the woven shelter and the shrine above their heads. “I’ll be safe here. The winds will nourish me and I do not fear the demons. My only fear is that you won’t reach the Palace of the Sun. The kingdom needs you, Mika. Much more than it needs me.”
Astor smiled then, and Mika felt her heart lurch once again. She looked away in case the tears she felt forming should break free.
“Zabeh,” said Astor. “You will take this impudent young Whisperer away from here. Take her southeast to the river lands and on to Meridar. Do you hear me?”
Zabeh nodded, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts.
Mika felt Star stir by her side.
You know she’s right, said Star. We can’t stay here – and we’d never outrun the Narlaw with Astor and Suri.
Mika felt the urge to snap at Star, to call her selfish or disloyal, but that would be unfair. Mika knew that she was the one acting selfishly. Of course, she couldn’t bear to think of Astor snowed in here and at the mercy of the Narlaw, but mostly she was simply afraid to go on without her. Despite her new discoveries, Mika still felt like a novice.
Mika? said Star.
She looked up and found that all eyes were watching her, awaiting her decision.
Mika nodded. “We’ll go,” she said.
Astor dipped her head and smiled a weary, grateful smile.
The snow continued to fall. As they left the shrine, the air was thick with it. Mika paused before she left the hilltop and turned to see the shrine almost completely obscured. Then she followed Star and Zabeh on to the hillside.
The cold in her feet and hands was matched by a numbness in her heart. She had abandoned Astor, her teacher and guardian. She placed her feet carefully on the steep, snow-encrusted path. This, she realized, was what duty felt like.
The route they had selected was a long curve that would take them close to the base of the mountains and keep them far from Rakeen. Mika squinted through the snow and struggled to tighten the drawstring at the base of her hood with her thick-gloved hands. All the while she cast around with her Whisperer sense. Did demons enjoy the cold or did they fear it? Did they feel any emotions? It was hard to imagine, considering that all they seemed to do was destroy things, feeding on the world around them. Perhaps hunger was the only thing the Narlaw could feel? If that were true, then it seemed to Mika like a terrible way to exist.
Mika trudged down off the hill, following Zabeh into a narrow cleft that offered a break from the wind. She was worried about her friend – about the effects of the Narlaw attack on her. Back at the shrine Zabeh had seemed much quieter than usual, but it was impossible to speak to her while they
were caught in such a dense blizzard.
She reached instead for Star. Don’t go too far, she whispered. Your tracks are hard to see.
A few moments later Star appeared in front of her. She was almost invisible in the snow. If it hadn’t been for her Whisperer sense, Mika would have stepped over Star without knowing she was there.
For a while Star let Zabeh lead. She stayed alongside Mika, leaping and scampering through the deepening snow.
There’s so much space, Star said. I always forget how pure the air is outside of the city.
Me too, said Mika, smiling at her companion’s enjoyment of the snow.
It had been a long time since she, Star and Zabeh had last crept out through the smuggler’s gate together. Zabeh’s militia training had intensified over the last few years and she’d had less and less time to spend with Mika and Star. Mika had absorbed herself in her Whisperer training and Star had spent more time exploring the city alone. It had made Mika sad to see them drifting apart like that, and to see Star stuck in Rakeen. Despite the dire nature of their journey, Mika was glad they were together now, and glad to see her companion taking so well to her natural wildness.
The trail forks here, said Star, and she raced ahead, whipping past Zabeh’s ankles.
Mika followed in Zabeh’s footsteps as they wound their way through the foothills, her boots crunching and slipping in the snow, her eyes squinting from inside her heavy woollen hood. It was exhausting work, battling the snow and wind, but there was no sense in stopping to rest until they found somewhere to shelter. Their chance came mid-afternoon when Star circled back to Mika and Zabeh on the down-slope of a riverside path. On the sheltered side of the river was a cave.
Star stood in the entrance, cautiously sniffing the air. A bear was here, she said, but a long time ago.
That’s good, said Mika. I think my feet have turned to ice. Let’s rest.
They filed inside, ducking beneath the low overhang of the entrance. It certainly did smell, but the dry rock floor and the shelter from the elements were truly welcome.
Mika sat and flipped her hood back, brushing flecks of snow from her face. Zabeh sat down opposite her, their backs to the walls of the narrow cave.
“Are you hurt?” asked Mika, nodding at a patch of reddened skin on Zabeh’s cheek.
“Only from where I landed on the grass,” said Zabeh. “It’s nothing.” She looked out to the whirling snow beyond the cave entrance.
Mika noticed her friend’s eyes glisten. She had never seen Zabeh cry before.
“That demon was so strong,” Zabeh added in a rush. “I felt its power when it struck me, like a deep void desperate to engulf me… I…”
Mika reached out a hand and placed it on Zabeh’s knee. “I felt it, too,” she said, “but it’s gone now.”
Zabeh turned to her. “I thought I was brave,” she said, “but when I fell to the ground I was too scared to get back up.” She looked down at the cracked stone floor. Her right hand lay limp on the hilt of her sword.
“You are brave,” said Mika. “You stood your ground, but nobody can fight a demon like that without the power of the earth behind them.”
Speaking those words made Mika shudder. She still couldn’t believe she and Astor had actually managed to banish the demon.
“But you fought it,” said Zabeh. “You destroyed it.”
There was a light of admiration in Zabeh’s eyes. Mika tried to dismiss it with an embarrassed shake of her head, but Zabeh held her gaze. She was serious.
They had been friends all their lives. Mika was the careful one, the studious one, and Zabeh was the fearless warrior. It was a new sensation, for Mika to be viewed as a warrior.
Mika smiled at her friend. “Think of it as payback for all the times you’ve saved me,” she said.
Zabeh smiled back, wiping her damp eyes on the sleeve of her coat. “That has happened quite a lot,” she said.
“Remember when those boys threw rotten fish-heads at me from their river boat?” said Mika. “You gathered up everything they’d thrown – plus some extra dirt from the street – and dumped it back on their heads when they passed under the rice-market bridge.”
Zabeh laughed. “Half of it ended up on the old man who was steering the boat. He wasn’t very impressed.”
Mika unwrapped her food pack and they ate a small meal – half a rice cake each and some thin slices of pickled radish. They chatted about all the times Zabeh had got them both into trouble, then somehow got them out of it again. The wind howled outside and Star climbed into Mika’s lap, watching the cave entrance. Her nose twitched, wary of the bear’s return.
When the meal was over they reluctantly set off into the snow.
Mika walked ahead of Zabeh this time, straining to make out Star’s darting movements as she nosed out the trail. The visibility was so poor it was like passing through a tunnel. Mika’s feet grew increasingly damp and cold as water seeped through her trousers and trickled into her boots. Huge snowflakes landed on her exposed cheeks and, when she brushed them away, more snow was left there by her gloves. But she felt no sign of the Narlaw and, as she walked, she continued to hope that Astor was safe.
The sky grew dim as evening approached and Star rushed madly to and fro, darting off the path at every opportunity to find them shelter for the night. When she finally settled at Mika’s side, the bond between them pulsed with satisfaction.
A shepherd’s hut, she said. Not far.
Good news, said Mika, smiling at Star’s enthusiasm.
Soon she and Zabeh were shovelling snow from the front of the shack’s wooden door, using their hands and feet in the failing light.
Inside were two long benches and a storm lamp. There was nowhere to make a fire, but the lamp gave out some heat and the three of them huddled together, warming their frozen hands and paws. Mika brushed the melting snow off Star’s back, and Star shook herself out with a gruff noise that was half bark and half sneeze.
They ate, saving as much as they could for the next day’s travel, then settled in for their first, cold night in the wilds.
The morning brought a clear sky and a rare view of the country around them.
Mika climbed on to a flat boulder beside the hut, dislodging a layer of snow. The highlands rolled away north, snow-dusted and shining in the morning light. Rakeen was a dark smudge in the middle distance. They had come further than Mika had realized. Eight or ten miles perhaps. Mika swung round to face the south. Mountains rose to impossible heights on her right, white and purple, their peaks unknowable, visited only by eagles and other birds.
Away down this jagged line of mountains lay the plunging valleys of the river lands, the gateway from the highlands into central Meridina.
Mika allowed herself one last, long look to the north. The wind shrine was lost in the distance now. Mika closed her eyes and sent a final wish of safety and farewell to Astor.
They walked without rest until noon, and then they only paused long enough to catch their breath and take a few quick mouthfuls of food.
In the foothills they passed abandoned homes and hill stations, barracks for patrolling militia and several wind shrines. They descended gradually, and the ground showed through in patches where the snows of the previous day had failed to take hold. Much of this ground was bare where Mika would have expected to see grass. There were noticeable gaps in the thorny trees that studded the hillsides, too – scars left by the Narlaw.
An hour before dusk Star scampered up the steep side of the gully they were hiking through and peered to the south-east.
There it is! she said. The mirror lake.
Mika watched her companion dart along the lip of the gully. She watched Zabeh up ahead, too. Her friend turned the next corner in the path and stopped, hands on her hips.
Mika ran to catch up. Around the bend the gully dipped into open land, the mountains drew back and there, spread before them, was the shimmering expanse of the mirror lake, its shores lined with cairns and standing
stones. A wind shrine stood on the lake’s south-eastern shore and, beyond, the land fell into a plunging river valley. There lay the heartland of the kingdom and the Meridar road.
They walked until the light gave out and then they set up camp beside the river. An old fire pit lay in the centre of a flat patch of grass about twenty paces wide. A steep rocky slope rose on three sides, protecting this notch of land from the wind.
They would have to cross the river eventually to reach the Meridar road, but the two bridges they had passed so far had both been destroyed. On the opposite side of the river, the devastation left by the Narlaw was much more severe: hillsides turned to mud, trees torn into splinters. Mika wondered if the bridges had been broken by the demons or by survivors from this side. She had felt the presence of people, distantly, as they had descended the valley – locals hiding from the Narlaw, she presumed.
After collecting firewood they settled in for the night, Mika staring into the crackling flames and revelling in their heat. Star sat close beside her. Her snow-wet fur steamed as it dried and her ears twitched as she listened to the sounds of the night. Mika kept watch over Zabeh, who sat, exhausted and silent, by her side, but soon the fire began to lull Mika toward sleep.
Then she saw Star rise quickly to her feet, and felt the first tell-tale signs of movement at the edge of her senses.
“Demons?” asked Zabeh, suddenly alert.
“No,” said Mika. “People.”
They’re on the river path, said Star. Coming north, this way.
Mika reached out and sensed a group of seven riders on horseback. “Why would anyone be travelling north?” she said.
Zabeh cast her a worried look. “Should we go?” she asked. She had loosened her sword in its scabbard and was peering north up the river trail, their only escape route.
Gathering Voices Page 6