Warrior of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘At least Thorlberd’s invaders will also be forced to take shelter,’ said Justyn. ‘The gemlyx should be safe for now.’

  Eskela brought a bowl filled with fruit and nuts. Zastra sucked on a slice of a watery purple fruit knowing she needed to rebuild her strength. Swallowing was difficult, as if her body had forgotten how to eat, and the temptation to lay down was great, but she sought out Morvain instead.

  ‘Tell me about Strinverl,’ she said. The Southlander’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘To explain, you need to know some of my history.’

  ‘We have time,’ Zastra remarked. Thunder rolled and the patter of rain on the canopy turned into a roar. Everyone went quiet as Morvain began.

  ‘Strinverl and I took part in the invasion of the Far Isles.’

  ‘You were working for Thorlberd?’

  ‘Of course.’ He met her eye. ‘As a mindweaver in Golmeira there is no other choice. However, I was happy enough with my position. I was the chief mindweaver to Marl Roshyar, one of the Southland marls. She had long been a supporter of Thorlberd’s and was rewarded with an invitation to join the expedition. She had four children and saw an opportunity to claim a fresh marldom for one of the younger ones. Nobody had any doubt the mission would be a success. The Far Isles had few mindweavers and no fortifications to speak of.’

  ‘We are being similar,’ Urbek said despondently. ‘Only we are having no thought-stealers at all.’

  ‘The triumvirate of equals surrendered as soon as we’d taken Mynganard. It would have been a relatively bloodless affair if people like Strinverl and Lord Rastran hadn’t been involved.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me about Rastran,’ Zastra said bitterly. ‘Go on.’

  ‘We took possession of the Grand Palace of Mynganard. Have you ever seen it?’

  ‘Only from a distance, when I was serving in Thorlberd’s fleet. Conscripts were never allowed on shore.’

  ‘It’s the most beautiful building I’ve ever seen. Only the amphitheatre of Golgannan came close, in my opinion.’ This was said with a nod to Hylaz and Lorzan. Golgannan had been the capital of Sendor, famed for its architecture and music. Thorlberd had razed it to the ground to punish Sendor for its resistance.

  ‘Thorlberd did not destroy the palace. The Far Islanders hadn’t made the mistake of resisting. Intoxicated by our triumph, we raided the palace, taking its treasures as trophies. Thorlberd set sail for the other islands in the archipelago to reinforce his victory, leaving Rastran in charge. Rastran ordered a feast, and it amused him to force the richest Far Isles merchants and their families to serve him. Being unused to such tasks, they did it badly, so he had them whipped.’

  ‘What about Strinverl?’ Zastra asked.

  ‘I had no appetite for such pleasures. I stole a couple of bottles of wine from the palace cellars and was about to return to my ship, when Strinverl made a grab for one of the merchant girls. She was young; too young to be a plaything for such a man. I urged him to restrain himself. I’m not sure what possessed me to challenge the highmaster. Perhaps the ease of our victory had made me arrogant.’

  ‘Or perhaps you are just a good man,’ suggested Zastra. Morvain closed his eyes briefly.

  ‘I was used to getting what I wanted, but not this time. Strinverl was stronger than me by far.’

  Zastra could tell the admission came hard to Morvain. Having made it, he sat up straighter.

  ‘He bested me and forced me to admit to all sorts of things, some true, some not. Since he was one of Rastran’s favourites he was believed. I was clapped in irons and returned to the dungeons of Golmer Castle. Strinverl insisted on leading what he called my re-education. It was not pleasant and I doubt I would have survived had your friend Kylen not released me. Having realised the truth behind Thorlberd’s rule, I chose to join the rebels.’

  ‘How strong is Strinverl?’

  ‘When it comes to controlling the actions of others, he’s better than anyone I’ve ever met.’

  The rains were still pounding against the canopy when Zastra, looking out of the door of the kabana, saw something move below.

  ‘What is it being?’ Urbek exclaimed. ‘Nothing is moving in the rains, surely?’

  They risked stepping outside the doorway to get a better view. Urbek held his cloak above their heads to protect them from the rain. Further down the tree, a ko-yamacha dropped onto a lastic mat. Only a few smears of yellowsap remained of his protective layer and his arms were blistered and raw. He slipped on the wet mat and dropped to his knees, his shins bright red as he rose. Heedless of the acid burning through his skin, he grabbed the next vine and swung further into vulyx clan land. More gemlyx followed, careless of the burning rain. Green-feathered birds the size of small eagles flew with them, emitting high-pitched whistles. Rafadal ran down the trunk and gestured them to stop but none heeded his warnings.

  ‘They’re terrified,’ Zastra remarked.

  ‘The gemlyx are the bravest of us,’ Urbek said with a shudder. ‘It is why they are living on the edge of the forest. They do not fear what is beyond. Until now.’ He reached for a pot of yellowsap and slapped it on his skin, even though he already had a thick coating. The rain started to ease. Rafadal returned with a young ko-yamacha woman, who was carrying a screaming toddler beneath her cloak. The child was unhurt, save for a bald patch on her head that was turning an angry red. Urbek doused the wound in sweetwater, before applying yellowsap. The child continued to cry lustily.

  ‘The madness is coming,’ cried the woman. ‘It takes everyone.’

  ‘It is not madness,’ Rafadal said, but the woman would not listen. As soon as Urbek had returned her child, she hurried down to the lastic platform. There was one vine left and she took it. When she reached the next tree, she was so panicked she let the vine fall back to hang uselessly between the trees.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Rafadal cried out. Zastra suddenly realised their danger. All the vines had been taken by the fleeing gemlyx. None had been returned. They followed Rafadal down the yamacha to find that every westward-facing platform had been stripped of their vines. Desperate pleas rang out from inside gemlyx territory. With vines hanging uselessly between trees, the network was broken. Those left behind were trapped. A heavily overloaded coracle set off from the base of a yamacha on the edge of gemlyx territory. It wobbled dangerously, threatening to tip its occupants into the swamp. Rafadal called for Shirifa.

  ‘We must rebuild the network,’ he said in Aliterran. ‘Send your people in each direction.’

  ‘I will take Hoxha and collect any loose vines,’ said Eskela.

  ‘We need people stationed at each tree to return the vines after each batch of gemlyx come across,’ Rafadal said. Everyone joined in the effort. When they returned the first bunch of vines, terrified gemlyx fought each other to get to them but Hylaz and Lorzan soon put a stop to that. Bekka and Eskela weaved their vulyx between the trees, gathering the loose vines. Word spread quickly and all along the border vulyx clan members joined the rescue mission. Zastra worked with Ithgol, ferrying terrified men, women and children between their tree and one manned by Rafadal and Urbek, until evening drew in. A shadow swept across the canopy immediately above her and she felt a familiar weight on her mind.

  ‘Mindweavers!’ she yelled. ‘And migaradons. They are close!’ Below her position, a gemlyx man leapt off a branch, his eyes glassy and unseeing. ‘Rafadal, get your people back!’

  The tharl began shouting orders. Ithgol turned blankly towards the edge of their platform. Zastra threw both arms around his broad chest. It took all her strength to stop him.

  ‘Morvain, get back here!’ she yelled. The Southlander and Waylin were deeper in gemlyx territory.

  ‘I sense three riders above us,’ he said, once they had swung back to Zastra’s tree. ‘Many more black ravens are coming through the trees.’

  ‘Can you protect our people?’

  ‘We will do what we can. But I might suggest now is not the time for romance
?’

  ‘What happened?’ Ithgol looked down in puzzlement at Zastra’s arms, which were still encircling his chest. She released him quickly.

  ‘Mindweavers, circling above us. Get back to Shirifa’s tree. We will follow with the rest of the vines. We must break the network again, or the vulyx will suffer the same fate as the gemlyx.’

  Morvain and Waylin were so focussed on blocking the advancing mindweavers that they barely acknowledged her.

  ‘We cannot… hold them much longer,’ Morvain said, sweat running down the side of his face. ‘There are too many.’

  Zastra felt it too. Her head was throbbing under the pressure. Much more and she would black out.

  ‘Fall back,’ she commanded, ‘and signal Polina and the others to do the same.’

  ‘But there are still people out there,’ Waylin protested. ‘We can’t just leave them to die.’

  ‘We can’t allow black ravens loose on the rest of the forest. Fall back. That’s an order,’ she added as the young mindweaver hesitated. She could hear splashes, getting ever closer, as more gemlyx dropped into the swamp. They retreated, and the sounds faded.

  It was a sombre group that gathered in Shirifa’s kabana. Like Rafadal’s, this yamacha was above average size and they were above the main canopy. It was nearly dark. The ko-yamacha didn’t use candles or oil lamps, but instead brought out small cages containing luminescent insects, their soft green light just enough to see by. An ear-shattering screech from a migaradon made the ko-yamacha flinch. Once more, Zastra’s felt a mindweaver try to break through her mental barriers.

  ‘Block them!’ Polina linked hands with the other mindweavers. She glanced at Zastra in dismay.

  ‘We can only protect those in this yamacha. Those further away will be at their mercy.’ Zastra’s blood chilled in her veins as she stepped out of the kabana. A migaradon circled the forest to the north, out of shooting range, but she grabbed her crossbow anyway.

  ‘I need to get over there,’ she said. Urbek turned to his daughter.

  ‘You must give Kiri to Zastra.’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Bekka, with a horrified look. ‘She is too big and fat. Only children fly the vulyx. This is known.’

  Zastra was too surprised to be offended. She had been called many names, but never fat.

  ‘It is true she is not a child, but after the poisoning, I doubt she weighs much more than you.’

  ‘But Kiri is mine,’ Bekka protested tearfully. ‘This whiteskin doesn’t know how to fly her.’

  ‘Then show me,’ Zastra said, but Bekka turned away sulkily, leaving Urbek to show her how to instruct the vulyx.

  ‘Up, down, left, right, faster and slower,’ he said, pointing to different groups of feathers on Kiri’s shoulders. ‘It is being all.’

  ‘Please keep her safe!’ Bekka pleaded as Zastra climbed onto Kiri’s back. The feathers were soft, but she could feel ridges of hard bone beneath her thighs. Screams pierced the air to the north.

  ‘Go!’ cried Urbek. Kiri launched into the twilight. A high-pitched shriek from immediately above startled Zastra. She had been so focussed on the migaradon to the north she hadn’t realised another was so close. She grabbed the handful of feathers that told Kiri to go higher.

  ‘Ark-ark!’ Kiri beat her wings furiously in response. Zastra fired three bolts in quick succession. Coming from below, she had a perfect sight of the migaradon’s belly against the pale dome of the late evening sky. The beast plummeted through the canopy, leaving a trail of splintered branches in its wake. Zastra turned Kiri to the north. The second migaradon formed a dark blot against the pale crescent left by the sun as it had set. Kiri screeched a challenge and charged towards it. Zastra gripped the vulyx with her knees and attempted to reload her crossbow, but the Kiri was onto the migaradon in a flash. Talons forward, the bird plucked the screaming rider from the saddle and cast him into the night.

  ‘Well done, Kiri!’ Zastra exclaimed. The riderless migaradon flailed around, wailing pitifully. Zastra let it go. Without a rider to control it, it would most likely plunge to its death in a frenzy of madness. She had seen it happen. A sudden updraft caught them and Zastra clutched a handful of feathers to steady herself. Kiri veered left. Zastra realised she had inadvertently given the bird that instruction. The wind was strong at this height and made her eyes water. There was now barely enough light to see, but Morvain had said there were three riders, which meant one more to deal with. She scoured the sky, pale dots showing the location of the brightest stars against the silvery blue background. The forest beneath lay dark and brooding, its colours leached to grey by the dusk. She heard the distinctive zip of a crossbow bolt as it flew past her ear. Kiri croaked in alarm and Zastra felt a chill run down her spine. She had made a terrible mistake, riding so high. The other migaradon was below her, using the dark background of the forest as cover. She felt a mental probe batter against her defences and pushed Kiri into a steep dive. Yet even if she could reach the cover of the forest, the mindweaver would be able to sense her in the dark, whereas she was flying blind. Kiri gave out a harsh caw. It was answered by a chilling shriek that made Zastra’s teeth ache. The migaradon was close, but still she could see nothing against the brooding forest. Something slammed into her right thigh. After an instant of numbness, pain spread down her leg. She reached down and felt the stem of a bolt protruding above her knee, slippery with warm blood. If she didn’t act quickly, she and Kiri would be picked off. The angle of the bolt told her that her opponent was still beneath her, and allowed her to guess roughly the location of the migaradon. She rested the butt of her bow against her shoulder and fired blindly. There was a howl of pain. Zastra aimed Kiri towards the sound and fired again. The migaradon’s screech was so close that the pain in Zastra’s eardrums overpowered that of her wounded leg. A fetid stench burst over her and they clattered into something solid. Zastra was almost flung from Kiri’s back. The vulyx writhed and beat her wings furiously as she engaged the migaradon. Something thudded against Zastra’s head. She fended it off with her free hand, her fingers closing around something smooth and bony. The front edge of the migaradon’s wing. She clung to it and swung her crossbow over the top, aiming at where she figured the rider would be. Her scale-tip bolt made short work of a mere human. The pressure snapped away from her mind and the migaradon screamed as it shared the death pain of its rider, its high-pitched wail tailing off as it tumbled towards the forest. Moments later a loud splash signalled the migaradon had met the same fate as the gemlyx. Kiri cawed quietly. Her croaks had a different timbre now; wounded rather than enraged. Zastra looked for the pale green lights of the kabana to guide their way home.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Kiri had suffered during her battle with the migaradon, with bald patches on her chest where her feathers had been torn out as well as a nasty double scratch beneath her left eye. Bekka wept at the sight.

  ‘She was very brave,’ said Zastra as she dismounted, but the girl brushed past her to comfort her beloved pet. Morvain’s mouth opened and closed like a feeding fish. It seemed dispatching three migaradons had finally rendered him speechless.

  ‘Your leg!’ Polina exclaimed, catching hold of Zastra as blood pulsed down her thigh. Shirifa sent for a healer and Zastra was lowered onto a pile of cushions. A grizzled woman soon arrived and pulled out the bolt without ceremony.

  ‘You are fortunate,’ she said, applying a poultice to the wound as Zastra gritted her teeth. ‘The tip of the bolt was jammed against your thighbone – you are lucky it isn’t broken.

  ‘I’m not sure what kind of luck gets me poisoned and shot within a few days,’ Zastra said, grateful for the draught the healer gave her to numb the pain.

  Thorlberd’s army made no attempt to breach the gap during the night. The movement of lamps back and forth in gemlyx territory suggested some activity, but to what purpose was anyone’s guess. By morning, Zastra’s leg had swollen so much that her knee was too stiff to bend and she was forced to sit on a pi
le of cushions while everyone gathered around her. Waylin, Zenarbia and Ithgol were absent, maintaining watch.

  ‘What do we know about the position and strength of the invaders?’ Zastra asked. ‘The black ravens in particular.’

  Polina yawned and Morvain rubbed red-veined eyes. They had been patrolling all night in case of another attack. Zastra was reminded how thinly they were stretched.

  ‘I sensed maybe twenty, spread across the forest,’ said Morvain at last. Polina agreed with his assessment.

  ‘Can you pinpoint their location?’

  ‘Perhaps, if we can get closer. Unless they are screening. A mindweaver can create something like a fog to hide their presence. It takes a lot of effort though – more than just protecting minds.’

  ‘I could not see into the minds of the soldiers,’ said Polina. ‘I think the black ravens are concentrating on blocking us, rather than trying to screen their presence.’

  ‘So, all we know is that we are vastly outnumbered, both in soldiers and mindweavers?’

  ‘A fair summary,’ remarked Justyn, ‘if not a very optimistic one.’

  ‘In Sendor, we faced similar odds these past years,’ said Lorzan. Zastra turned to him.

  ‘What do you recommend?’

  ‘Hit and run tactics. Take out their mindweavers. Then we can bring Rafadal’s people to bear.’

  ‘We are ready,’ said Rafadal. ‘My people were eager to attack this morning. I had a difficult task persuading them to wait.’

  ‘Such an attack would have been suicidal,’ exclaimed Morvain in disbelief.

  ‘Feelings run high,’ said Rafadal with a shrug.

  ‘If you can get close enough, you could locate the black ravens?’ Zastra asked. Morvain looked at her.

  ‘It would be risky. If they are grouped together, they can link and overwhelm our minds. Since they outnumber us, we’d suffer the same fate as the gemlyx.’

  ‘Then you’ll need a diversion.’