by Duncan Pile
“I see it,” Emmy gasped. “I can heal!”
“Emmy, that’s great,” Gaspi said, and she could tell from the sound of his voice that he was as relieved as she was. He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. She nestled in, happier than she’d been in a long time, but Gaspi drew away “Stick with it a bit longer,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”
Emmy closed her eyes again.
“Leave the wound behind and turn your senses outward. You hear someone approaching but there’s no need to look around. You know who it is…”
For a moment, Emmy was puzzled, but then tears began to well in her eyes as she felt a vast presence surround her. It was the same presence that had touched her in her meditations and that she’d communed with in the Temple of El-Amyari before her fateful battle with the Darkman. It was Love itself.
She was dimly aware of the sound of paws scrabbling on her bedcovers, and then the two elementals were in her lap, affection and care of a different sort beaming from them as they joyed in the presence of Love. Gaspi grasped her hand and she could feel his love too – human, earthy, wonderful. Love bathed her, saturated her; it flowed into the wounded part of her soul, touching it and stimulating new growth. She knew she wouldn’t heal overnight, but right there and then something was changing. A seed had been sown and, if she were patient, it would flourish and blossom. Most importantly, she knew that however long it took, she was going to heal. That knowledge removed the shroud of fear that she’d worn since the battle with the Darkman; fear that she wouldn’t recover, that life would always be shiftless and grey. But now she knew differently, and that knowledge changed everything.
Tears filled her eyes and she gave into sobs of relief. Gaspi’s arms encircled her and she could tell that he was crying too. Love surrounded them both, nurturing them, and in that moment the threat of Shirukai Sestin and even the Dark God seemed remote.
At long last, the presence of Love withdrew, leaving them huddled on Emmy’s bed. Emmy wiped away her tears with a handkerchief and noisily blew her nose. Gaspi smiled at her, his glistening, brown eyes rich with emotion. Emmy kissed him, holding his face gently in her hands. She let him go and leant back against the wall with a contented sigh.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“How did I know what?”
“How did you know that was going to happen?” Emmy said.
“Are you kidding? I was making it up as I went along.”
“Seriously?”
Gaspi nodded, his eyes wide with amazement. “You can’t plan something like that. We did our bit but Love took over.”
“But you said it came to you during your meditation…like a thought you didn’t think?”
“Yeah, but it was just a simple idea – to help you see the damage that’s been done to you and understand that you can heal.”
Emmy nodded thoughtfully and then broke into a smile. “I guess it worked better than you’d hoped.”
After a while, the rush of emotion began to recede, and Emmy felt the familiar wall of numbness re-assert itself around her.
Gaspi looked at her with concern. “Are you alright?”
Emmy forced a smile. “It’s going to take time, that’s all. I do feel a little better – not much, but it’s for real. You can’t expect me to get better on the spot, you know!”
“Oh…I thought, after what happened…” he trailed off, looking disappointed.
Emmy tried to think of a way to explain it to him. “When you meditate, you feel peaceful and energised for a while, but afterwards you go back to feeling normal, right?”
“I guess so. I mean, some of that good feeling can last a while, but yeah, that’s about right.”
“Well it’s the same for me, only my normal has been pretty terrible for some time now.”
“Oh, right,” Gaspi said. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“The good news is that my normal just got better, and I think if we keep doing this it’ll continue to improve.”
“Alright,” Gaspi said, smiling at last. “So we’ll do this again tomorrow.”
“Exactly,” Emmy said.
“And the day after, and then the next one, and the one after that.”
Three
Taurnil caught Lydia’s arm as she slipped, and held her steady until she found her footing. The riverbank was among her favourite places, but the rains had made the moss-covered rocks slippery.
“Let’s get up on the flat,” she said.
“Sure,” he said, following as she scrambled up the bank. The air was hot and moist, and a rolling bead of sweat tickled his brow. Only a few days previously they’d been in danger of freezing to death on the exposed peaks of the Broken Ranges, but now they were back in Helioport, languishing in the late summer heat. Lydia had adjusted to the sudden change in climate easily enough, but Taurnil hadn’t stopped sweating since they got back.
The quest had been a success, but it was hard to think of it that way. They’d lost the twins when fleeing the Darkman, and Emmy had been damaged in some fundamental way during the battle in the Temple. She seemed lost, distant from those closest to her, including Gaspi, who was worried sick about her. Taurnil and Lydia visited her every day, and she did her best to communicate, but as often as not they ended up sitting in silence. Meanwhile, Jonn was still undercover in Helioport’s underworld, trying to rescue Adela. They were all desperately afraid for him, but there was nothing they could do to help.
In the face of all that gloom, Taurnil had to remind himself of what they’d achieved. They’d destroyed the Darkman – a formidable foe by any measure – and recovered fragments from the altar of El-Amyari which, according to Hephistole, would give them a chance against Shirukai Sestin and his demons. Undeniably, they had struck a major blow against the enemy. If someone else’s friends were suffering, Taurnil might have considered the price of victory worth paying, but it wasn’t someone else’s friends – it was the people he cared about most in all the world.
“Let’s head back Lyd,” he said, squinting into the setting sun. “We promised to meet up with Gaspi for supper.”
Lydia grasped the material of his shirt and drew him into a kiss. “In a minute,” she murmured. Desire swept through him in a heady rush and he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her in tightly. She gasped, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair. She pulled back, meeting his gaze with wide, smouldering eyes and kissed him again.
Taurnil held her close after the kiss had ended, pressing his cheek against her sun-warmed hair. He had never felt happier, but what should have been a perfect moment was marred by an undercurrent of guilt. What right did he have to be happy when his best friends were suffering? He couldn’t help how he felt – every day spent with Lydia was beyond wonderful – but sometimes he became so absorbed in the moment that he could barely remember his friends’ names, let alone worry about what they were going through!
“Okay, now I’m ready,” Lydia said with a satisfied smile. She turned on her heel and took long, bouncing strides towards the city. “Come on slowpoke!” she called. Grinning, Taurnil rushed to catch up. She slowed down when he drew level and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.
A flash of light caught Taurnil’s eye. He looked out across the plain and saw a vehicle trundle out from the woods, the lowering sun reflecting from its lacquered side in a blinding glare. The vehicle turned with the trail and the dazzling light faded. Taurnil’s jaw dropped at the sight of a brightly coloured wagon, drawn by a team of long-maned horses. A train of similar wagons emerged from the trees behind it, painted in reds, greens and golds.
“Lydia, is that…?”
Lydia froze, her eyes widening. “Da!” she cried, releasing Taurnil’s arm and breaking into a sprint.
“Lydia, wait!” Taurnil cried, but there was no stopping her, so he sped up, lumbering along as fast as his large frame would allow. They rushed straight across the plain, navigating a long stretch of unruly, grassy hummoc
ks, and by the time he neared the wagons he was breathing heavily from the exertion.
“Da!” Lydia cried again. The driver of the lead wagon pulled on the reins and brought it to a stop. He stood up on the running board and looked around, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. Taurnil recognised Roland’s rangy frame immediately. The long-limbed gypsy caught sight of Lydia and leapt down from the wagon, loping across the ground and snatching his daughter up in his arms. Taurnil hastened to catch up and, when he finally arrived, found his girlfriend in floods of happy tears.
Roland disentangled himself and shook Taurnil’s hand. “Taurnil! You seem to have doubled in size!”
It’s good to see you, Roland,” Taurnil said. He’d been waiting for the gypsies to return so he could ask Roland for Lydia’s hand in marriage, but they had been away far longer than expected. He hesitated. Perhaps he should put it off till later in the evening and catch Roland in a good mood round the fire. No, I’ve waited far too long already! His heart in his mouth, he launched into it.
“Roland, there’s something I need to ask you.” Lydia shot him a surprised look, but she reached out and took his hand.
Roland looked between them, his eyebrows raised. “Go ahead son.”
Taurnil dry-swallowed. “I love Lydia with all my heart and want to spend the rest of my life with her. Will you give us your blessing?”
Roland stared at him in astonished silence. Taurnil’s heart-rate ratcheted up several notches. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so nervous; not even before a battle!
“Taurnil, you are a fine young man and I am delighted you love my daughter, but surely Lydia has explained our ways to you? We do not marry in the way that you do, and you don’t need my permission to court her.”
“Da,” Lydia said gently. “We are Soul-bound.”
Roland’s eyes widened. “Soul-bound? You and Taurnil?”
“I’ve known it from the day I met him.”
A slow smile spread across Roland’s face. “Well…this is wonderful!” he said, his eyes shining with joy. He threw out his long arms, engulfing them in a fierce embrace, and when he finally let them go his face was wet with tears. “Taurnil, forgive me, you have my blessing.”
“Thank you,” Taurnil said in a choked voice.
“We must celebrate!” Roland said. “Go find your mother, Lydia. She’s back in the fifth wagon with Sharla.”
“Da, I’m not sure this is the right time to throw a party,” Lydia said. “We’ve just returned from a dangerous quest. Some of our companions lost their lives and others are injured.”
“I’m not so sure Lyd,” Taurnil said. “This might be exactly what everyone needs – I bet they’d be grateful for the distraction.”
“But what about Sestin?” Lydia asked. “Don’t we need to do something now we’ve got the fragments?”
Taurnil shook his head. “Not yet. We need to wait for Baard’s army to arrive, which could take months. We’ve got time.”
“Da?” Lydia said.
Roland clasped her shoulder. “Whatever else is going on in the world, the union of a Soul-bound couple is a cause for great celebration. Our traditions must be followed.”
“But surely you don’t mean…”
Roland grinned. “We will celebrate in style, with a full gypsy ceremony. I’ll send out word to the other Families and invite them to share our joy.”
Lydia faked a groan, but it was obvious to Taurnil that she was delighted. Happiness shone from her like a beacon.
“Don’t pretend you’re not pleased,” Roland said. “Now go get your mother.”
…
“That’s wonderful news,” Emmy said, throwing her arms around Lydia and kissing her enthusiastically on the cheek.
Lydia returned the hug, wondering at her friend’s show of emotion. Emmy had been like a ghost for weeks, broken by her confrontation with the Darkman, and yet here she was, aglow with happiness. “Emmy, what’s happened to you?” she asked, looking carefully into her eyes. There didn’t appear to be any sign of delirium.
Emmy smiled. “You can tell!” she said with obvious satisfaction, and proceeded to tell Lydia about the meditations that were gradually healing her. “We were keeping it to ourselves until we were sure it was working. It’s only been a week or so.”
“Well you’re obviously doing better,” Lydia said, relieved beyond words that Emmy was finally on the road to recovery.
“I really am,” Emmy said. “If you’d told me your news last week, I’d have forced a smile and tried to be glad for you, and then I would have felt awful about it afterwards. But right now, I’m genuinely happy for you.”
“Thanks Emmy,” Lydia said, taking her friend’s hands and squeezing them tight. “I can hardly believe it’s happening.”
“What did your Da say?”
“He was surprised at first. He thought Taurnil didn’t understand our ways, or maybe that he’d corrupted me, but when I explained we were Soul-bound he was over the moon.”
“Can I ask you something Lyd?” Emmy said. She sounded a little tentative.
“Course you can.”
“What’s it all about, this Soul-bound thing?”
Lydia paused. “You know gypsies don’t marry, right?”
“Yeah, you’ve explained that before. Couples stay together for a time and then move on when they grow apart. Children are raised by the wider Family instead of by their parents.”
“Exactly,” Lydia said. “That’s how we do things normally, but every now and again a couple feels that they are destined to be together for the entirety of their lives. It is a rare thing among gypsies, and a cause for great celebration. Da has sent messages out far and wide, inviting everyone to come and join the party.”
“Okay,” Emmy said, but she still didn’t look satisfied.
“Just spit it out Emmy.”
Emmy grinned sheepishly. “Just don’t be offended okay?”
“I promise.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, surely every young couple thinks they’re Soul-bound?”
Lydia shook her head. “I guess it’s hard for you to understand. You grew up believing that love is forever, and everyone you know stays together, come what may, don’t they?”
“Most people, yeah.”
“So it’s no surprise that you aspire to that. You and everyone else you grew up with.”
“I guess.”
“And how do you view it when people separate?”
Emmy frowned. “You mean divorce? It’s sad if a couple can’t find a way to make it work.”
Lydia shook her head. “That’s not how we think. I wasn’t brought up to believe everyone should stay together or that it’s a failure if a couple separates. We don’t expect or even hope to be Soul-bound. I know I didn’t, and certainly not to someone who isn’t even a gypsy.” Emmy was trying to look like she understood, which made Lydia laugh. “You may never get it Em, but does that matter?”
Emmy laughed too. “I guess not. As long as you’re happy.”
“I’m more than happy,” Lydia said. She felt fulfilled in a way she’d never known was possible, and which she couldn’t put into words. “So what about you and Gasp? Do you ever think about getting married?”
“We haven’t actually talked about it, but I’ve always seen us ending up there.”
“How come you haven’t talked about it?”
Emmy shrugged. “When have we had the chance? I mean, first of all there was the battle of Helioport, and then Gaspi went away to study with Heath, and then there was the Measure, and then the Darkman and the quest. I’m only just starting to feel like myself again. Besides, there’s no rush. We’re only sixteen.”
Lydia stiffened defensively. “Do you think Taurnil and I are rushing into it?”
“Good grief no, I didn’t mean that. It’s just different for us, that’s all. I’m really happy for you Lyd.”
Lydia relaxed. “Thanks Em,” she said, giving her a hug.
&nbs
p; “I can’t wait for the wedding!” Emmy said.
“Me neither,” Lydia said, and proceeded to explain how gypsies celebrate the wedding of a Soul-bound couple.
Four
“You’re sure that’s the place then?” Voltan said. The warrior mage stood at the Observatory’s great window, looking out over the floodplain that skirted the city of Helioport. Hephistole sat at his desk, a map of Antropel spread out before him.
“Without a doubt,” the chancellor said.
Voltan grunted. “This report of a slaughter is disturbing, but not hard to believe.”
“Sadly not, if Ferast is the perpetrator.”
“I wish we’d killed him at the Measure,” Voltan said.
Hephistole paused before responding. “With hindsight, so do I. There was a time we might have been able to save him, but he is beyond redemption now. His depravity is as great as his master’s.”
Neither man spoke for a moment. “So what do we do?” Voltan said.
Hephistole understood Voltan’s uncharacteristic lack of certainty. As a warrior Voltan’s instinct would be to attack, but he was enough of a strategist to grasp the tactical complexity of the situation.
“The timing is inconvenient,” Hephistole said. “Now that we understand how the fragments work, we need to harness their power. I’m planning on having them fused with ordinary weapons, so that any warrior can go one on one against a demon and have a chance of destroying it, but that won’t happen quickly.”
“And then there’s Baard,” Voltan said.
“Exactly. We don’t know the sum of Sestin’s forces, but we can assume there’ll be a demonic presence of sorts, and who knows how many vaergs he has at his command, or what other forces he has gathered? It is galling, but I think we must wait for Baard to arrive before we act. There is every chance that Sestin will move against the city before we are fully mobilised. Realistically, we must prepare for a siege and hope Baard arrives before it happens. An army of ogres will do much to even any score.”