by E. V. Greig
Chapter Two
The desert sky had begun to darken at last. A chill was in the air as the hawk took flight from the canyon wall, startled out of her roost by the screaming even as it ceased. Silence descended once more. The hawk circled, uncertain. Then a thin wail sounded from deep in the canyon. The hawk flew higher yet and screeched her displeasure. The wind shifted and the low growling of wild dogs sounded.
Far below, Eltornius stared at the two tiny forms he had cut from Kyshaa’s womb. There had been not one, but twin infants, a boy and a girl, damn that stupid Ullensian! The dogs were welcome to her corpse! But which child is the Ca’Ryln? The boy was wailing lustily, whilst his changeling sister lay still and cold. Dead from the womb: she’s a wraithspawn no less!
Yes, the boy was definitely the Ca'Ryln. Eltornius would worry about how to feed him later - a wet nurse perhaps. For now, he sensed that it was time to go. Any longer and Sherni would undoubtedly find them, and that would never do.
This last in mind, the Isylth picked up his young charge and gestured once again. The two vanished in another whirl of sulphur. Left behind next to the still warm body of her mother, the little girl at last opened her eyes and gurgled, her tiny fists clenched. Hunger wracked her for the first time and she wailed.
∞∞∞
The soft night breeze caressed Lonrari’s face, teasing her into full consciousness. She could hear the thudding of hooves over sand. Opening her eyes; she saw the desert rushing past only a few feet below her head. The dryanth growled and tried to move. “Let me up!”
“Not until we have reached our destination.” Slo’annathorys’ voice drifted back to her. “We are making good time but if we stop to loose your bonds then dawn will be upon us and all will apparently be lost.”
Lonrari screamed at him then, her voice echoing throughout the canyon. “What did you do to me - where are we? Where is that foolish bard? Luath - release me at once!”
“Yes priestess.” Luath made to slow his steed.
Slo’annathorys shook his head. “No time, Luath! If you stop now, I swear I shall leave you both behind - and this desert is no place for forest dwellers. Now keep moving.”
“Yes Slo’annathorys.” Luath sighed and dug in his heels.
Banor sniggered from atop his perch on one of the packhorses. Then he swore as his mount swerved to avoid a rock. “Varynthir don’t belong on bloody horses!”
Ruiryk and the Anyosian girl were sharing a steed. Neither looked particularly comfortable in the saddle but they struggled to keep up without a murmur. Slo’annathorys led the hunt - perched high in his saddle and leaning forward over his horse’s neck. Every so often he whispered softly to the animal, urging it onwards with only his voice.
Lonrari hissed in frustration. “What is going on?”
Slo’annathorys snapped back at her. “The woman you were seeking is dead but her baby is probably still alive. Antabi warned us to find her by dawn or else it would be too late for all of us. We are bound for Hawk Ridge, in the Canyon of The Tiger’s Heart. There are wild dogs in the area and what is more I have heard rumours of a wyrm lairing in this land. Oh - and there are seven bandits following behind us. Have you any more questions?”
Behind them, the small mob of bandits realized that they fell back in search of less capable victims. The searchers rode on. They could all hear the howling of the dogs now. With it drifted another thin wail - one that was weak with cold and hunger and very much afraid. Kyshaa’s baby was out there ahead of them, alone and exposed to the chill night air. Slo’annathorys brought the reins down across the shoulders of his steed, driving the exhausted animal to a last desperate gallop. To the east, the first hint of light was creeping across the sky.
Slo’annathorys closed his eyes and focused all of his being upon the cry of the orphaned infant. His mind’s eye flew ahead: searching, scouring every cave and crevasse. He could see the child – lying trembling with cold beside her mother, not yet touched by the dawning light. The shadows pooled about her. There was still time: still one chance to reach her before she gave up the struggle for life. I must take the risk!
Kicking his feet free of his stirrups, the sylvanth opened himself to a part of his heritage that he had long denied. The darkness stirred about him, rippling like a second cloak. Then he sprang forward and up into the air, grimaced briefly, and was gone.
∞∞∞
Eltornius smiled down at the tiny male. “Hello child. You are the Ca’Ryln. Do you know what that is? Yes, of course you do. You are the chosen one, after all. You are the only one who can save Graymyrh and I intend to see you prepared for that task. Your mother may have intended your doom but rest assured child, you shall survive and the world shall be purged! Only the true denizens shall remain: the wyrms!”
He turned away from the cradle and regarded the rest of the chamber with a critical eye. Until now, the only other beings to share his lair had been fellow wyrms. His beautiful mate Shilafeggi, the three clutches which they had raised, and the orphans whom he had chosen to mentor. All were gone now. Nothing remained of them but dim memories.
Eltornius sighed and shook his head - this puny human form was tiresome for him to wear! The chamber would suffice; he had set runes of warding on every wall and laid out the finest of silken tapestries as a carpet. The cradle had once been the shell of a massive sea turtle, and was inlaid with turquoise and amethyst. There were no windows or doors. The only light came from tiny luminescent beetles, which scurried and chirped their way across the ceiling of the cave. A narrow crack led from this area into his sleeping chamber - a vast underground room filled with centuries of stolen wealth. Nothing larger than a rat could fit through the gap and the granite wall was at least four stave-lengths thick. It was, Eltornius decided, perfectly safe.
∞∞∞
The lead dog padded closer to the small, whimpering form. Until now, the sound of its cries had kept the pack edgy - too nervous to approach. Now they were bold enough to move towards the dead female whose blood they had scented. The small female was still alive, but no threat, the lead dog decided. He growled softly and made to paw at the defenceless infant.
Something large and powerful burst forth from the shadows at an impossible speed. Dropping to the ground, Slo’annathorys seized the wild dog by the scruff of its neck and hurled it bodily across the canyon. Then he scooped up the orphaned child and cradled her to his chest, wrapping his soft red cloak around her. His long fingers wiped the tears from the baby’s face. “Do not cry little one. I will keep you safe.”
He smiled and tickled the child beneath her chin. Behind him, the wild dogs whimpered and slunk off. The little girl gurgled weakly. Slo’annathorys eyed Kyshaa's already fly ridden remains and sighed. “Javia judge us not for what must be!”
So saying, he knelt and laid the baby on her late mother's breast: kneading the cold flesh to let down the dead woman's milk. Disturbingly, the alleged hope of the world appeared to be quite content with this means of nourishment, and the sword master chuckled morbidly. “The restless dead shall never have power over you now, that much is certain. I only hope that you do not become one!”
The first rays of dawn reached them then, tinting everything with red. The surrounding cliffs mirrored the harsh light; forming a grotesque mockery of a womb. His long ears twitched as he detected the sound of hoof beats, and his nose wrinkled at the sweat of the horses. They could not have reached here on time without nightwalking, Slo’annathorys realized. For once, the sylvanthi prince felt almost grateful for his ancestry.
“You found her!” Luath cried. “Xeriphon be praised! You have saved our one and only hope for the future” The bard’s pale brown eyes shone brightly against his cinnamon coloured skin, brimming with tears of joy and sadness.
Lonrari gave an incredulous hiss. “Xeriphon? Still your heretical tongue and untie me, mongrel!” Her smooth skin flushed almost olive green with rage.
Slo’annathorys smirked. “Ah, the religious orders - al
ways the same, no matter which deity they claim to serve. Leave her be for now, Luath. Let her cool her heels a while longer.”
The par’anth stepped forward and held out his arms for the baby. His eyes met Slo’annathorys’ in a stern frown. “Give me the child. She belongs with those who knew her parents. We at least can tell her of her heritage.” The red dust swirled about his legs in a miniature dervish. Behind him, the merciless sun had already begun to raise the temperature to its daily nightmarish zenith. “I may have failed Davar and Kyshaa but I swear that I shall not stand by and allow their daughter to be raised by a sylvanth! On that point at least, I agree with Lonrari.”
“Be silent dog - how dare you speak out of place?” Lonrari shot Luath a murderous look. “Now untie me or by Haph’s own blood I shall gut you like a wild salmon!”
“As you wish, priestess,” Luath murmured. He lowered his gaze; obviously cowed by her words.
Slo’annathorys had had enough of this. The sword master grasped Luath’s arm and handed him the infant. “Take her; she needs to be bathed and clothed.” He strode past the bard and over to where Lonrari was still bound to her steed. “So - you want down, do you? Very well, priestess - allow me to be of assistance!” He tugged sharply on the release cord; sending Lonrari tumbling to the sandy desert floor. Ignoring her yelp of protest, he seized her wrist and dragged her face down across the sand to the far side of the canyon. Only then did Slo’annathorys release his grip. “Now let us talk.”
“What do you want?” Lonrari spat.
“I have helped you this far. I have tolerated your incessant nagging and your endless sniping. I have reached my limit, priestess.” Slo’annathorys glared down at the dryanthi esthanth. “I understand the full importance of this child. I am afraid that change is coming to our world - whether we like it or not. That child is the herald of it. You will have to get over your prejudices and your contempt for those who are not pure blooded. Because if you cannot change, then what use are you to her? How shall you serve her in her task? Tell me that, Lonrari. That little girl - that little skree’akh esth - is the key to saving all of us. Yet here we stand arguing because you cannot bring yourself to treat a male of mixed heritage as an equal! I know the legends: the Ca’Ryln is destined to unite all of Graymyrh against the forces of the Vor’Barysk. She cannot hope to succeed unless we are willing to put the past behind us.”
Lonrari stopped in mid retort. “Damn you and all your kind for what you have done to my people over the centuries...but you are correct. We must stand united against the Vor’Barysk.”
The sword master nodded. “Then we are in agreement. Now then - I have brought you and your companion this far. Where would you have us go next? I wish to help you protect the Ca’Ryln.”
The slender priestess rose to her feet and dusted off some of the sand from her tunic. “We cannot stay here, that much is certain. We need to find shelter - a safe place for the baby. And then...then we will see where Haph’s wisdom shall send us.”
At this point, Banor’s guttural snoring interrupted any hope of further conversation. They moved back to rejoin their companions. Banor was sound asleep atop his packhorse. Luath was fumbling with the straps on one of the panniers. Slo’annathorys frowned. “Luath - where are the children?”
Luath looked up quizzically. “The Anyosian maiden is tending to them. I needed both hands free to open this pack. They are just over there - in the shade of those rocks.” He pointed to a small rocky outcrop in the wall of the canyon.
The three anthir turned and looked towards the outcrop. Sure enough, there was the young Anyosian woman huddled in against the red stone. Her soft blonde hair hung loose about her shoulders and her blue eyes fixed on Slo’annathorys. Ruiryk lay curled up next to her. His blue-black hair was as usual a tangle of small ringlets and his eyes were heavy with sleep. The baby was being cradled between them, by now wrapped in a blanket. For a moment, Slo’annathorys felt a deep ache in his heart. Then the sword master pushed the feeling from him. No, fool, you could never truly hope to call them family!
“We can rest here for now,” said Lonrari. “I shall pray to Haph for guidance on where to go next.” She paused for a moment. “It was Her will which brought us here. A full season ago, I received a vision of a walled city next to an ocean. I was walking through empty streets, searching for someone important. I came across a fountain - it was dry and covered in dead leaves. I felt a terrible sense of dread. Then it grew dark, and a blood red moon rose in the sky. Bathed in its light, the streets looked as if they ran red with blood! I started running but something caught at my legs and held me fast. When I looked down, I saw strange black briars entangling me. I struggled but could not free myself. Then suddenly I heard a baby crying and a hand closed around mine. I looked to see who it was. A great wall of light enveloped us before I could see the person. When the light faded, I found myself alone once more before the fountain. It was no longer dry. As I watched, a blanket of flowers and trees slowly covered the entire city. The sound of music filled the air. Then the vision ended.”
Luath was nodding happily. “It was clearly a sign that the hope for our world would be born in a desert city. No doubt this land will begin to return to life soon.” He looked about him as if expecting to see the first signs of fresh green shoots appearing from the sands.
The sword master was not so certain. “There are many walled cities beside oceans. We cannot be certain that this is indeed the one from your vision. For a start, the only fountain here is already far from dry! And anyhow, deserts are as much a part of nature as forests.”
“Visions have to be interpreted,” Lonrari replied airily. “It is a very complicated process that you would not understand.”
Slo’annathorys raised one eyebrow at that. “Very well, I shall stand watch whilst you make your divinations.”
∞∞∞
She was reaching out to him again - seeking guidance. The last attempt had been a disaster; some unbidden glimpse of the petitioner’s own future having flooded the vision. Her fate tallied to his realm in some way, and he wondered briefly, what her destiny was. Then he put the question from his mind - what was paramount now was for his pawn to return to where he could reach her easily. The sooner that I may draw her away from Kebe, the better, for it is only a matter of time until the wyrm realizes his mistake!
Perhaps he ought to bring her here, to his own kingdom. No, the current state of affairs at court would make that too uneasy a childhood. There were those who would seek to make a pawn of her, or worse. The Ca’Ryln deserved better than that. She would have a paradise to grow up in - he would see to that. He smiled as the solution occurred. What better place exists, other than within the Vale of Ryln itself?
Yes – the place from which all sylth sprang would be an ideal playground for the supreme caster to grow up. It was close to his realm, but not within its boundaries. The perfect solution; he could easily collect her when the time was right. The only difficulty was going to be in ensuring that his pawn interpreted the vision correctly this time.
Chapter Three
“So what brings you to Briersburge, Uncle Ranulf?” Naomi Du’Valle smiled up at the man whose gauntleted arm she leant on. “Do you intend to steal my husband away to war with you so very soon after our wedding? I have scarcely had a chance to show him around all of the keep and here you have returned in full armour and with a face like the end times were upon us!”
Lord Ranulf Von Rosenhof III regarded his ward with a heavy heart. Losing her beloved Skegyl had been pain enough for her. Thank whatever merciful entity watched over them for Bandhir! The mercenary had brought back the warmth into Naomi's broken heart. He had entertained her with songs and sylth tricks - slowly teaching her to smile again. He had saved her from wasting away and for that, Ranulf knew that he would be forever in the man’s debt. But love was not enough to save them now. Naomi was far closer to the truth than she realized.
She sighed and shook her head. “Oh, look, wi
ll you please just tell me what troubles you so?” Her blue and silver striated eyes narrowed beneath her jet-black brows. She had her late mother’s colouring: pale skinned and black haired with wide, expressive eyes, a small sharp chin, neat full red lips and high cheekbones.
Ranulf stopped walking. “Well, my dear it’s like this: the end times are indeed upon us. Our world is doomed and there is nothing that I or indeed anyone else can do to save it.”
Naomi stared at him for a long moment. Then she uttered an obscenity so colourful that she could only have learnt it from Skegyl. A passing maidservant blushed and ran away, covering her ears. Naomi sank down onto the cold stone floor of the corridor and buried her face in the skirt of her gown. The great red hound, which was her constant companion, growled at Ranulf from behind its muzzle. Ranulf frowned: thinking it to be a little odd that Naomi had agreed to muzzle her beloved pet.
Perhaps it had bitten someone. He shrugged and knelt beside his niece: his black and gold enamelled breastplate heavy and awkward as he hugged her. “Do not despair, my niece; for I have a plan, you see. A plan that is both bold and audacious in its endeavour! Whilst I cannot save our world, I believe that I may have discovered a means by which it is possible to tear open a doorway to another world through which we can escape - along with a few others.”