Angel Blessed (Angel Caste Book 5)

by K S Nikakis

  ‘That is an exenda trait, not an Iahhel one.’

  ‘It’s an angelic one,’ said Viv. ‘Ezam’s angels are winged. My father is winged.’

  ‘It is an exenda trait,’ repeated Essera.

  They continued to climb, Essera naming what they passed as usual, but something had changed. Viv thought the impediment to making her life with the Iahhel might be her tiny percentage of human blood. She’d never imagined it would be her angel blood.

  Viv dreamed again that night. She was in the old weatherboard house again, but she was older this time, and her mother long gone. The musty smell was the same, and the staleness of her sheets as she climbed into bed. The noise of her drunken father’s card game was audible down the hall but she drifted, and then there was the suffocation of a hand over her mouth, and the terror of being pinned to the bed. She was jerked as her viewpoint changed again, and she watched the man’s hands move over the terrified girl, and the girl struggle free, and run. And then she was awake, dragging in air and fighting to calm.

  ‘You are safe here, Viv,’ came Essera’s soothing voice.

  Viv knew she wasn’t safe anywhere since sleep had returned. She could lock the memories away during the day, but the rats were free to roam when she slept. Perhaps they were the price of staying here, along with never using her wings again.

  ‘I need some air,’ she said, and scrambled from the nest. The hall was lit with a pinkish glow and the trees outside glimmered pink too. She stared up, hoping for stars, but the sky’s deep amethyst was empty. There was no moon either. It might be the wrong cycle for both, she reasoned, but Essera hadn’t mentioned cycles.

  The Wheel lacked a moon too but its constellations more than compensated, and its valleys and streams were similar enough to home to ease her homesickness. Fariye was there too.

  ‘This is Erath’s time of rest,’ said Syatha, making her jump. The Sai glided closer and Viv’s skin prickled at how ethereal she looked. ‘You have slept since you have been in Erath’s care,’ continued Syatha. ‘Why do you not sleep now?’

  Viv was tempted to tell Syatha to ask Erath, but restrained herself. ‘I’m having bad dreams.’

  Syatha smoothed Viv’s curls from her eyes as a mother might. ‘Erath sends what She must.’

  ‘That’s kind of Her,’ said Viv sarcastically.

  ‘It is kindness though it causes you pain. Essera will bring you to the erathi when light comes. I think it is time. Go back and rest now, Viv. You will not dream.’ Viv said nothing and Syatha kissed her on the forehead and glided away.

  Chapter 10

  Viv stayed awake to ensure she didn’t dream and was compensated for the tedious hours of darkness by the birds’ dawn symphony. It lifted her spirits more than anything Essera could have said, or Syatha, but dread returned when Essera led her towards the erathi and she saw Syatha waiting.

  Syatha dismissed Essera with a nod and turned her attention to Viv. ‘There is much about you that makes you Iahhel, and much about you that does not,’ she said.

  ‘My ten percent of human caste blood?’ asked Viv, suspecting a preamble to her expulsion.

  ‘Your human caste blood is less important than you imagine. I refer to the life you have led.’

  ‘Not everything was my fault,’ muttered Viv.

  ‘That is both true and untrue.’

  Viv stared down at the leaf-fall, knowing arguing wasn’t going to change Syatha’s mind about throwing her out. She was just sorry she wouldn’t get the chance to farewell Essera.

  ‘You have been in pain a long time, Viv. To rid yourself of it, you must endure more. Do you choose to?’

  Viv looked up startled. Syatha didn’t plan to expel her yet, but her deal reminded Viv of other deals she’d been offered. Ya want me to hurt ya, Vivi? Do as ya told, and you’ll be just fine. Your choice. ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘You do not have to do anything but you might choose to test yourself in the erathi.’

  ‘You mean, make yellow leaves turn green?’ Syatha nodded, and Viv shrugged, knowing it was unlikely. ‘Okay,’ she said, and followed Syatha into the tangle.

  Syatha halted by a branch of jagged thorns, and when she didn’t say anything, Viv stepped forward. She’d seen Firah stroke leaves to bring them back to health, but these thorns were dead and vicious. Best get it over with, she decided, and carefully extended her hand, then jumped back as she was sliced. The thorns moved like the Keeper’s flowers in Hearth Fold, but they hadn’t been hostile. She tried again from another angle, with the same result, and sucked the blood from her hand.

  Syatha watched and Viv’s irritation grew. Firah had caressed leaves, not thorns, and Viv wondered whether Syatha set her up to fail. Then again, Firah’s face had held an expression of intense concentration, so maybe the trick was mental.

  Viv shut her eyes, braced herself, and extended both hands. The thorns attacked immediately and she searched desperately for something to concentrate on. Healthy thorns? Glossy leaves that went with thorns? Roses? Her hands burned and she was sure they were shredded. Red roses! Think of red roses! Of their velvety petals, of their heavy scent, of their thorns. No! Not thorns! But perversely, her attention focused on thorns.

  Thorns and roses were part of the same thing. People endured the thorns to enjoy the roses and when they thought of roses, they didn’t think of thorns, they thought only of the beauty of the blooms.

  She was on the ground, drenched in sweat, her hands bloodied. Syatha knelt beside her but Viv’s gaze jerked to the thorns. They hadn’t changed. ‘I failed,’ she choked. Tears spilled down her face and all she wanted was to crawl away somewhere to sleep.

  ‘You have made a good beginning,’ said Syatha, and took her hands.

  Warmth pulsed through them and the wounds closed over. ‘You healed me!’

  ‘Erath healed you, because you allowed it.’ Viv was too dizzy to struggle with Syatha’s meaning and heard her summon Firah. ‘Take Viv to her rest,’ Syatha instructed the younger angel. ‘Stay with her until she is well again.’ A smaller hand replaced Syatha’s muscular grip and Firah’s arm came around her as Viv lurched sideways.

  ‘I’m sorry, Firah,’ mumbled Viv, as she stumbled along.

  ‘There is no sorrow in Erath, Viv. Do not bring it with you.’

  They must have reached the hall but Viv was only aware of the delicious softness of the bower. She made no effort to fight sleep, a decision she regretted as she was plunged into another dream. She was back in the derelict squat with its shouts and brawls, and then Rim lurched out of the shadows. A knife flashed as his hand tightened on her throat and then Viv was above the scene, watching Rim choke and slash a skinny, red-headed girl, into submission.

  Firah was there when Viv woke, and stroked Viv’s hair as Viv wept. ‘I can’t stay here,’ she sobbed, unsure whether she meant the bower or Erath.

  ‘Where would you like to go?’ asked Firah.

  ‘Somewhere I don’t dream.’

  ‘Erath’s higher places bring you pleasure. I shall take you there.’

  Firah’s warm hand guided Viv through the trees, and steadied her as the land steepened, but Viv walked in a daze. She’d kept the rats of memory confined since childhood but Erath, for all its beauty, has set them free. Firah had stopped where a stream broke white over river-stones and where the bright air was full of chimes like bellbirds.

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Viv thickly.

  ‘Erath gifts sharing.’

  ‘Of my thoughts and dreams?’

  ‘I feel your thoughts as happiness or sadness. Erath does not share dreams, but I feel the distress your dreams cause Essera, and the concern they wake in the Sai.’

  ‘Do you dream, Firah?’ she asked, her gaze on the water.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are they happy dreams?’

  ‘They are what Erath sends.’

  It didn’t answer the question but Viv didn’t pry. ‘Why do you try to heal the plants in the erathi?’
/>
  ‘Nothing in Erath needs healing. Erath aids our journeys and the erathi is part of Her aid.’

  ‘You made yellow leaves green again.’

  ‘It is Erath who determines such things. You did not see what I saw.’

  ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she cried, pacing up and down along the bank.

  ‘There are thorns in the erathi,’ said Firah.

  ‘Yes, and they’re bloody sharp.’

  ‘Is that what you saw?’

  ‘Of course, that’s what I …’ Viv stopped. She’d seen roses as well as thorns, and Firah had probably seen something other than yellow leaves, but afterwards, Firah had green leaves and she still had thorns.

  ‘I have been to the erathi many times,’ said Firah, as if knowing Viv’s thoughts.

  And presumably had lots of practice at doing whatever the mighty Erath wanted, deduced Viv. ‘You need to visit the erathi to become Sai?’

  ‘It helps.’

  The erathi sounded like Ezam’s ladder of ascension, despite Syatha’s denial. ‘Do all the Non visit the erathi?’

  ‘When they are ready.’

  ‘Can’t they just stay Non?’

  ‘Do you wish to stay as you are, Viv?’

  ‘No, but … what I felt in the erathi … was painful.’

  Firah smiled. ‘I have never been beyond Erath’s blessed bounds, Viv. ‘Is change easier elsewhere?’

  ‘No,’ said Viv slowly. ‘It’s hard everywhere.’

  Viv knew her dreams were part of what she must to endure but she dreaded sleep that night. The dreams followed a sequence and the next was likely to be the crash that killed the child, or Thris’s attack, or the Waradi rape.

  Essera curled her body about Viv’s and kissed Viv’s hair, but it wasn’t enough to keep the dreams at bay, and this dream was different. It was a rapid slide-show instead of a single, violent incident, and every slide included the arsehole. His knife above her heart after the rape; him burning Thris’s feather; him tethering her to the urrut to disfigure her in the Grey Fire; him poisoning her welcome at Tahsin’s sett; and his verbal and physical attacks in Esh-accom.

  Viv waited for the shift that made her an observer not just a participant, but it never came, and as the violence continued, fear gave way to a bitter hatred. In icestone country, she’d pledged to see the arsehole dead and she still wanted him dead.

  Essera caressed her face when she saw Viv had woken. ‘Syatha says you are to come to the erathi,’ she said softly.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Viv.

  ‘You do not need to go immediately if you desire more rest.’

  ‘I probably do need to go immediately,’ said Viv, understanding that her dreams had brought her up to date in her crappy life, and things were coming to a head. Essera led her back to the erathi, Viv’s hand firmly in hers, but Viv stopped before they reach Syatha, and embraced her.

  ‘I want to thank you, Essera. You’ve been more than a friend to me.’

  ‘Friend?’

  ‘Someone who’s kind,’ said Viv, and hastened towards Syatha before she weakened and turned back. Syatha led her back through the crooked trees and Viv’s heart sank as she halted at the thorns. If there were any justice, they’d bear her blood and skin, she concluded acidly. ‘Why am I doing this, Syatha?’

  ‘Because you choose to.’

  ‘And if I choose not to?’

  ‘Then you will not do it.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘That is a question only you can answer, Viv.’

  ‘I’ve spent my whole life doing stupid things, so I guess there’s no reason to stop now,’ she muttered. She shut her eyes and conjured roses, but as the pain increased, thought only of thorns. Not thorns! Not thorns!

  She was on the ground again, knowing she’d failed, and even when she felt Syatha heal her hands, was too miserable to raise her head. ‘I can’t do it,’ she choked.

  ‘What do you love most of all?’ asked Syatha, her hands enclosing Viv’s, as she knelt beside her.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It is a simple question.’

  ‘Fariye.’

  ‘The person you were injured in saving?’ Viv nodded. ‘And what do you hate most of all?’

  Viv’s answer was quicker this time. ‘The arsehole—Fariye’s father.’

  ‘You have love and you have hate, Viv. Which is stronger?’ Viv stared at her blankly. ‘Do you love the daughter more than you hate the father, or do you hate the father more than you love the daughter?’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘Is the father with the daughter?’ asked Syatha. ‘Are the thorns with the roses? Your early dreams were full of fear, but this last one was full of hate. Erath felt it, and the Hoth, and the Sai. It even disturbed the Non. The erathi gives you only thorns, for thorns are all you give Erath. You have great love, Viv, but also great hate. Which do you choose?’

  ‘The arsehole did terrible things to me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He hates me.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you saying I have to go back and face him? That I can’t stay here?’

  Syatha’s roughened fingers caressed Viv’s cheek. ‘Every Iahhel who enters the erathi, whether Non, Sai, or Hoth, faces their version of thorns. It is Erath’s gift to show us what we are, and give us the opportunity to change. You can stay as you are in Erath, or as you are in the fold you came from, or as you are in some other fold. Erath insists on nothing.

  ‘But I do not think you will choose to do that. You faced the thorns a second time, despite knowing their pain, and you allowed sleep and endured its dreams for the same reason. I do not think you will choose to stay as you are.’

  Chapter 11

  Sehereden leaned back against the sett’s wall and eased his aching shoulders. The long days of rebuilding had bequeathed him friendships with the new members of his lein’s band, as well exhaustion, but no cure for his frustration. Cadestone held the sky, the dullest of the zadics but the most anticipated, after Fire. Its heavy star-clusters marked the last chance to be named seed- or choose-father, before the long wait to Fire Zadic began again.

  Sehereden’s frustration was shared by the men gathered around the fire. His lein’s band had grown to over forty and their loyalty was already strong. Once the sett was complete and the festivities of Cadestone finished, they’d bring their si- and lein-trysts, their children, and their old, to live on the Scinta Rill. But in the meantime, they were stuck here, like him. Lirium and Glimwing gave men a sense of whether they’d be gifted children come Cadestone, but none of them had been in Esh-accom since Fire Zadic.

  They’d crossed the crest into Warinavale, built trust with the Genessi under Quen en-Sar-ril, and eliminated the Perin-ril’s murderers. The fighting had forged unbreakable bonds, but not without cost. They’d left the bones of over a dozen of their own on the pyres, and even more of the Genessi.

  Ataghan and Quen en-Sar-ril had not only destroyed those who’d breached the crests and their sett, but sent warning to the Ascadi. There’d been no further attacks so the warning seemed to have been heeded. Ataghan sat opposite in conversation with Brithergen, but even as Sehereden glanced at him, tossed his urrut-sa into the flames and strode away. His lein had never been at peace, even before the fighting, but Fariye’s abduction had damaged him even more than when he’d thought her dead.

  His lethal pursuit of those with even the slightest involvement had seen the festivities empty of traders, and Sehereden summoned by Esh-accom’s Sylds to discuss his lein, but he’d cut their threats of expulsion short with a description of Fariye’s abduction, and they’d been too shocked to persevere.

  They hadn’t wanted to lose the coin Ataghan generated either, not that many wagered against him in the end. Ataghan’s intensity had become an aggression so intimidating that even the most boastful adversaries were reluctant to face him in the rink. The crowds seemed relieved to see him don the champion’s wreath too,
so they could turn their attentions to more enjoyable activities.

  Cadestone faded and as the fire burned low, the men went to their rest. Sehereden remained, his thoughts on Viv, as they so often were. The sett’s rebuilding meant he had a home to offer her and an incentive to accept a lein-tryst, when and if, she returned. Viv’s trust had grown to the point where she had gifted herself, and from what Baraghan said, she had no other home, even in Thrisdane’s world. That gave him hope, despite his lein’s antagonism.

  Ataghan had requested he not mention Viv in Fariye’s presence, and he’d complied, but Fari spoke of nothing else, and when they’d left her in Brithergen’s compound to rebuild their sett, she’d convinced herself they’d bring Viv back with them when they returned.

  They left for Esh-accom a few days later, despite the sett not being finished. Cadestone drew on and the men’s frustrations could be contained no longer. There were twenty-six in the party that came down into the Dart-val and turned starwise, those who knew they had no chance of fathering this zadican, having remained behind to complete the building. They’d head deep into the cloudwise vals to reclaim the horses and urrut herds too, and when the men returned with their lein-trysts and promised children, the stores would be full of urrut-sa, cheese, and cured meats to welcome them.

  Tension robbed the group of conversation, and Sehereden was silent too as he rode with Ataghan in the lead. Dart rose squawking at their approach and he knew the Waradi had taken Viv in this val.

  ‘What is it?’ hissed Ataghan, his hand flashing to his knife.

  ‘Just my thoughts,’ said Sehereden, realising Fara had passed his disquiet to Taris. ‘It’s where the Waradi captured Viv.’

  ‘So she claims.’

  ‘It was Fariye who told me. Viv hid her and drew them away.’

  ‘To reunite with them in private.’

  ‘Do you still believe that after everything she’s done to keep Fariye safe?’