‘Fine, I will try,’ she said, removing her jerkin and attempting to copy his moves.
‘No, like this!’ Xhoyal whirled into another dance. He went more slowly this time and she repeated the steps until she had the dance memorised.
‘I think I’ve got it,’ said Zastra with relief.
‘It is just the beginning!’ Xhoyal began whirling around the tent once more, adding more intricate moves and swirling the pilu over his head and around his body. Zastra tried to follow but ended up tangling the pilu between her legs and falling over.
‘Come. Padra is ready,’ said Myshka, popping her head between two flaps of canvas.
‘But Zastra is not! We haven’t practised jumping the firepit,’ protested Xhoyal.
‘I’m supposed to do what?’ Zastra exclaimed. Myshka gave her a pair of fingerless gloves made of the same material as Lorzan’s new shoes. They stretched around Zastra’s hand like a second skin.
‘You will be fine. You are a fire-dancer, remember?’
‘Keeping on saying it doesn’t make it true,’ Zastra muttered as they re-joined the others.
‘Zastra, are you sure about this?’ Polina said with a worried frown.
‘I’m only sure that I have to try.’ Zastra sensed the ceremony was important to their hosts and there was no way to tell how they would react if she refused to take part. When they returned to the cave, the firepit looked a lot wider than she remembered. Hundreds of ko-venteela poured into the cave and her heart began to pound so hard she was sure everyone must be able to hear it. Padra raised her pilu and silence descended. She had removed her apron and wore nothing but a loin cloth and a wrapper around her breasts. Her body was all sinew and muscle. Zastra felt uncomfortably hot in her shirt and leggings, but there was no way she was going to prance around nearly naked in front of Morvain and the others. Padra opened her mouth and her throat quivered, emitting the same warbling cry that Xhoyal and Myshka had made on the slopes of the First Born. The cry was taken up by the rest of the ko-venteela.
‘Follow Padra-ji. Do what she does,’ Xhoyal whispered as Padra began to circle the firepit.
‘Come on Lady Zastra, show us what you’re made of.’ Morvain grinned and clapped his hands in time with the chanting. He’s enjoying this. Probably hoping I’ll embarrass myself. Padra beckoned her. She could only try her best. Hopefully the ko-venteela would appreciate effort as much as actual skill. She began with the steps Xhoyal had taught her. The ululations increased in volume. After circling once around the pit, Zastra’s shirt was already heavy with sweat. Only the fingerless lastic gloves prevented her pilu slipping from her slippery palms. The chanting intensified, echoing around the cave. It was intoxicating stuff and Zastra found herself caught up in the rhythm and the beauty of the dance. She began to anticipate Padra’s steps as they leapt and twirled, fast and faster, right up to the lip of the pit. The ululations rose to a crescendo but then died as Padra drew to an abrupt halt. Zastra stopped next to her. They were both breathing heavily.
‘Who bears witness?’ cried Padra. Myshka and Xhoyal stepped forward.
‘I witness that Zastra Whiteskin danced the fire,’ Myshka said.
‘I too, witness that Zastra Whiteskin danced the fires,’ added Xhoyal.
‘Zastra Whiteskin, receive the token of the fire dancers.’
Padra lowered a pendant over Zastra’s head. The circle of metal felt cool against her skin.
‘Let the new fire-dancer demonstrate her skill.’ Padra stepped back and gestured across the firepit. Zastra gulped. They really expected her to jump over the molten river. Gwylla went white and even Morvain was no longer grinning. The chanting began again as she backed away from the edge, trying to recall what she had done on the First Born. There was nothing for it but to commit fully. She charged towards the pit, planted her pilu and heaved herself upwards. The heat coming from the firepit seared her skin as she hung above it, but she was over in an instant, relieved to feel solid ground beneath her feet. She even managed a flourish as she retrieved her pilu.
There was a sudden disturbance near the cave entrance. The chanting died instantly as uneasy whispers swept through the ko-venteela. The crowd parted to reveal the figure of a woman clothed head to toe in a flowing grey robe. No skin was visible; the figure’s hands were encased in gloves and an engraved steel helmet covered her head and neck. A dense oval mesh across the front of the helmet gave the figure a blank, faceless appearance.
‘Druin-ji!’ gasped Padra. Silence settled over the cave with a hiss, like water thrown over a campfire.
‘What heresy is this?’ The druin-ji’s voice reverberated around the cave. She carried a silver pilu, decorated with red and yellow ribbons. Instead of a point, it was topped by an open circle with a triangle above three wavy lines outlined inside it. The ko-venteela sign. Behind her marched five men and five women in grey uniforms bearing the same insignia. The two at the back carried a smoking brazier, suspended from a metal pole that rested between their shoulders.
‘May the Mother rest in peace,’ intoned Padra, kneeling.
‘How can she sleep when you commit such sacrilege?’ the druin-ji snapped.
‘This is no sacrilege,’ said Padra defensively. ‘We honour the First Born for permitting this whiteskin to dance his fires.’ The druin-ji turned towards Zastra. Looking into a blank, faceless mesh instead of a face was disconcerting.
‘These whiteskins roused the First Born with their presence.’ The ko-venteela began to wail, plunging to their knees. Only Myshka remained standing.
‘The First Born was grumbling days before they came,’ she protested.
‘It is sin to question the word of the Mother.’
At a signal from the druin-ji, two of her foot-soldiers grabbed Myshka. Colour drained from Myshka’s face as the brazier was lowered to the ground in front of her. The druin-ji dipped the tip of her pilu into the hot coals.
‘Wait!’ Zastra cried. She lowered her pilu respectfully at the feet of the druin-ji and spoke very slowly, so as not to be misunderstood.
‘I am Zastra, daughter of Grand Marl Leodra of Golmeira. We come to your lands in respect and friendship. Myshka saved my life on the slopes of the First Born. Surely you will not punish her for that?’
The druin-ji made no sign she had heard her.
‘You must not interfere, Zastra,’ said Padra quietly, as the druin-ji retrieved her pilu from the brazier. The foot soldiers forced Myshka’s arm away from her body and the druin-ji thrust the burning brand against her skin. As Myshka screamed in pain, Zastra felt her companions close around her. Zenarbia and Gwylla clung to each other and Polina was leaning against Justyn as if she could barely stand.
‘Esteemed druin-ji—’ Urbek began.
‘Silence, ko-yamacha. Your presence in our lands angers the Mother as much as these whiteskins.’ The faceless woman shook her pilu again. ‘Only death will appease Her.’
The foot-soldiers circled around them. Zastra tightened her grip around her pilu. With Ithgol and Hylaz alongside her, she reckoned they had a good chance in a fight. The druin-ji barked a command. Every ko-venteela in the cave rose to their feet and closed around the foot soldiers, poking their pilu towards the visitors in a threatening manner.
‘Morvain, now would be an excellent time to use your skills,’ Zastra said. They couldn’t hope to fight through so many, and in any case, she had no wish to harm ordinary ko-venteela.
‘Alas, I can do nothing.’ Morvain gasped. ‘Something drains my powers.’
‘Pol?’
‘I feel it too,’ Polina struggled even to speak. ‘Something truly evil.’
The druin-ji moved closer. Morvain slumped into Ithgol’s arms and the other mindweavers collapsed to the ground. Zastra and the others could do nothing as their backpacks and weapons were seized.
‘Choose your sacrifice,’ commanded the druin-ji. ‘The Mother is hungry.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Kylen called the council togeth
er, bringing Beregan and Zax as her representatives. Nerika was waiting with Mata and Pitwyn. Dobery arrived next with Drazan and Gildarn to represent the mindweavers, and Yelina brought her usual compatriots with her. Kylen realised she didn’t even know their names.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she began. ‘I look to this council for support.’
‘I really don’t know why Zastra put you in charge,’ Nerika remarked.
‘Me neither,’ added Yelina. That makes three of us, Kylen thought. ‘It should have been put to vote,’ Yelina added. ‘We should consider a triumvirate. It always served the Far Islands well.’
‘Except when Thorlberd attacked Mynganard,’ Gildarn remarked bitterly. ‘Your indecisiveness cost our people dearly. If we’d known you were going to just give in—’
‘We had no choice,’ Yelina protested. ‘Or would you rather sacrifice thousands of lives for a foolish notion of resistance?’
‘Hundreds died while you debated. Those who led the defence of Mynganard were captured and taken away to be tortured as a warning to others.’
‘I remember,’ said Yelina quietly. ‘You were not alone in losing someone, Gildarn.’
Kylen felt the meeting slipping out of control before it had even begun. In a swordfight, she would back herself against the lot of them, but this was a different kind of battle.
‘Let’s get back to the business in hand,’ she said. ‘There are things we need to change.’ Nerika snorted as if her worse predictions had been realised.
‘Throwing your weight around already? Don’t think I’ll agree to anything that favours Sendorans at the expense of the rest of us.’
Kylen doubted Nerika would agree with her if she said rain was wet.
‘Are you always so suspicious of people’s motives?’ she asked
‘I am where it concerns Sendorans and so-called Golmeiran nobility.’
‘And pretty much everyone else,’ Gildarn remarked, earning himself one of Nerika’s trademark glares.
‘I make no apologies for being careful who I trust.’
‘Perhaps we should let Kylen explain what she intends,’ Dobery said mildly. Kylen gave him a grateful look and outlined her concerns regarding the weakness of their defences.
‘We must defend both headlands. I propose we build a pontoon to hold a battery to the south.’
Nerika pursed her lips.
‘All our carpenters are busy making catapults. Besides, we risk the future of the hunting grounds if we clear any more forest.’
‘There will be no future for any of us if Thorlberd’s fleet gets into the bay,’ Kylen said. ‘But I don’t propose to build a pontoon from scratch. Three of Yelina’s luggers, battened together, would do as well.’
‘You want my people to give up their ships?’ Yelina exclaimed. ‘They will be reluctant to do so.’
‘Then persuade them. The fortress is also a priority. We need more people on construction.’
‘Why the rush?’ Nerika asked. ‘Zastra at least took the time to explain what she wanted and why.’
‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you say anything nice about Zastra.’
‘Since you’ve been in charge, I find I’m missing her,’ Nerika said acidly.
‘I’m trying to keep everyone safe – can’t you see that?’ Out of the corner of her eye, Kylen saw that Beregan was fingering her sword belt. A nervous habit, or something else? It wouldn’t say much for her leadership if her first council meeting descended into a brawl.
‘We can’t just pull people away from what they are doing,’ insisted Yelina. ‘My people are not idle. Aside from fishing, we are busy harvesting the local bamboo to make clothes. The fibres are tougher than we are used to and without decent dyes—’
Kylen cut across her.
‘There is an old Sendoran saying. “Build your house before you make carpets”.’
‘Then build some houses,’ Nerika snapped. ‘It doesn’t help that you brought back yet more refugees on your last trip. You’re getting as soft-hearted as Zastra.’
‘Not something anyone could accuse you of.’
‘Where I grew up, being soft was a luxury only the rich could afford.’
‘I’m aware of the overcrowding problem, but it is a matter of priorities. We can use this hall as temporary housing. There’ll be no time for feasts or entertainments until the fortress is completed. Yelina, have your people report to the fortress first thing tomorrow. Clothing can wait.’
‘It’s not just clothes,’ Yelina protested. ‘Nerika has been hounding me for days for new sailcloth.’
Nerika interjected eagerly.
‘Yelina is correct. Our sails have more patches than original cloth. One direct hit would leave us unable to manoeuvre. It’s not just the Obala. The Wind of Golmeira has the same problem.’
Kylen looked at Mata, who signalled her agreement with Nerika’s response. Kylen ground her teeth in annoyance. Their warships were too important to be neglected.
‘Very well. Those making new sails can continue until Mata and Nerika have what they need,’ she said reluctantly.
‘Then we cannot give you all the people you demanded.’ The smug tone in Yelina’s voice made Kylen lose the last of her patience.
‘Must I do all your thinking for you? Find a way to get me what I need. Dobery, Gildarn, I expect a progress report on the trainees every two days.’
She closed the meeting. Why couldn’t people just do as she commanded? All this arguing was exhausting. She just hoped the others would step up. Without their help she’d never be able to defend Uden’s Teeth.
Chapter Twenty-three
Zastra tugged at her manacles, drawing a grunt from Justyn. They had been tied together in pairs, seated back to back. Any effort she made to free herself only tightened the chains around her partner. Next to her, Polina and Zenarbia slumped against each other, heads bowed.
‘Pol,’ Zastra whispered, ‘are you all right?’ She kept one eye on the opposite side of the cave, where the druin-ji rifled through their bags as her foot-soldiers laid out a square of red cloth by the rim of the firepit. The rest of the ko-venteela had disappeared, all except Padra.
‘I feel so weak,’ Polina groaned. ‘It’s like the power is being sucked out of me.’
‘She is a caysar,’ whispered Zenarbia, her eyes glittering with fear.
‘Nonsense,’ Pol said, but without conviction. ‘Caysars are creatures of legend. Stories told to scare little children.’
‘They say that a caysar’s touch removes your powers forever.’ Zenarbia’s voice rose in panic.
‘Never mind what they are called,’ said Zastra. ‘We’ve more important things to worry about.’
‘Like who is being the sacrifice,’ said Urbek. He had informed the others of the druin-ji’s ultimatum.
‘It should be me,’ Gwylla offered, tears streaming down her face. ‘I’ve been holding you back this whole journey. And if that… thing really is a caysar, I’ll soon be worse than useless.’
‘Don’t say that, Gwylla,’ said Morvain. He looked at Zastra. ‘My trainees are too important to be sacrificed.’
‘Are you being a volunteer?’ asked Urbek.
‘Do not take that tone with me. It is your people who are trying to kill us. Maybe you should take responsibility.’
‘Ko-venteela are not being my people.’
‘No one is going to be sacrificed,’ said Zastra firmly. ‘We just need to think of a way out of this.’
‘What good is thinking?’ Morvain said testily. ‘Will thinking get us out of these chains, or get our weapons back?’
‘Always and only you are complaining,’ Urbek said bitterly.
‘Bickering won’t help,’ said Zastra. ‘Justyn, can you reach my waistband?’
‘What am I after?’
‘I keep a manacle key hidden there. The foot-soldiers missed it when they searched us.’
‘Convenient. Did you know we would be captured?’
‘I gue
ss it pays to be pessimistic.’
Justyn wriggled, causing her manacles to dig painfully into her skin. She bit her lip to stop herself crying out and alerting the druin-ji.
‘Got it!’ Justyn said, his voice surprisingly loud.
‘She’s coming,’ Ithgol growled in an undertone. Zenarbia began to sob in terror as the grey-robed figure approached.
‘Why are you doing this?’ Zastra asked. She peered into the mesh, trying to make out the face behind. ‘We have done you no harm.’
‘We protect these people.’
‘As far as I can see, the only person that they need protecting from is you.’
The druin-ji used the tip her pilu to lift Zastra’s chin.
‘They respect power. Even if you were to somehow escape this cave, they would hunt you down rather than risk the Mother’s wrath.’ Zastra didn’t doubt it. She understood why the ko-venteela feared the Smoking Mountains. She just didn’t believe throwing someone into a firepit would help. The druin-ji thrust her mesh into Zastra’s face. ‘Which of your friends will you give to the Mother’s flames?’
‘What does this choice get me?’ Zastra asked, stalling. ‘Once the sacrifice is done, what happens to the rest?’
‘You will receive the mark of the druin-ji as a warning to others who would invade our lands. Then you will be released.’
She twisted her pilu and pressed the branding circle against Zastra’s cheek. The threat was clear. Padra approached, her eyes lowered.
‘We ask that you bless the incense, druin-ji,’ she said. Zastra tried to catch her eye, but Padra seemed cowed and would not look at her. They could expect no help from that direction.
‘You have until the villagers return to make your choice.’ The druin-ji returned to the other side of the cave with Padra. A large iron grid had been placed on the red cloth. The foot-soldiers began to attach chains to each corner.
‘Thank the stars she’s gone. I can hardly breathe when she is near,’ Polina said with a gasp.
‘What did she say?’ asked Zenarbia. Zastra ignored the question. Zenarbia and the others were scared enough already without worrying about the druin-ji’s threat.
Warrior of Golmeira Page 11