Bark, as always, his self hidden deep in his own mind, was at last appalled at Rhaki’s ideas. He had not yet decided whether the damage Rhaki had inflicted on his mind was a deliberate act to keep him subservient, or truly accidental. Rhaki had had Bark well tended, nursed back to physical health. He assumed that the blank emptiness he saw within Bark’s mind, as season followed season and Cycle followed Cycle, was to be Bark’s permanent state now.
But from that cataclysmic moment when Bark felt his mind disintegrate, a tiny part had remained aware. Through these long ages that part had slowly – oh so slowly –grown. And he had spoken to Jerak. Unknown to Rhaki, Jerak had sought out Bark and talked with him on four occasions before Rhaki’s final outburst of arrogance.
The resulting contest of Power had stunned all in the stronghold. Indeed several deaths had resulted from the reverberations of Power shattering the very particles of air. Most had regained their senses to an eerie quietness. Bark had recovered quicker than most and gone to Rhaki’s study. He opened the rock door that Rhaki foolishly believed was known only to himself. He had hurried down the passages until he found the Guardian slumped unconscious at the open door of the Chamber of the Sacred Balance.
Bark had stood looking at Rhaki for several moments, then he stepped over his body and entered the Chamber. So easy to leave him to die! So easy to help him beyond! But that was not the way of the People and the People were more than this one poor example. Bark had carried Rhaki back to his rooms and tended him for days.
Bark pondered these things as he sat, still as stone, beside Rhaki’s door. The time was very near now, when Rhaki would control the Balance. Jerak had said: ‘Two young ones come, Bark. They are Chosen. But if they fail, the task is yours.’ Jerak had told Bark nothing of the young ones he mentioned. Bark had heard Rhaki screaming at Jal of a human and a Nagum, and of Dragons. Unmoving, Bark sat, his thoughts gathering speed and moving in the only direction he could see as rational.
All these ages mending, and the wish growing in him to be back in Gaharn, listening to the words and the thoughts of the People. All this time, spent hear, listening only to Rhaki, whose finely balanced intelligence had long since toppled into insanity. But he had loved the young Rhaki. Oh indeed, yes.
Bark lifted his head. He rose, his attenuated figure casting a spidery shadow on Rhaki’s door as he moved to answer the summons from within. He knew he was weakening physically; he was but in his middle years as the People reckoned age, but the damage Rhaki had done him long ago had speeded him on his life’s journey. He opened the study door and entered noiselessly, already bowing submissively to the Guardian. May the stars give him strength once more, enough for him to be finally true to his People.
Chapter Twenty-One
Finally the company had reached the place where the Dragons awaited them. The last hours of the climb had seen the wind rise again, hurling snow and ice grains into their faces. Gan had been in the front, with Soran. A dozen Guards followed, then Tika between Sket and Motass. She knew she could easily take Power to help herself, but she also knew the Guardian would feel any use of Power now they were halfway between Gaharn and his stronghold. He would surely know their company was moving north and no doubt had watchers hidden somewhere on their route. Tika did not think he knew that either she or Mim were able to use the Power to the extent they in fact could.
He would know that Gan was the leader of the company, and as a Senior of the People Gan could use the Power to some degree. The small amount Tika would need to help her resist the cold and exhaustion could pass as that which Gan might use. She chose not to risk even that; she just prayed she would soon be with Farn and, stars be kind, sheltered from this snow filled wind.
Tika now had a better idea of how she could manipulate threads of Power but she understood that weaving shielding to block the wind, for instance, was a very different thing to what she suspected she might have to do all too soon. Part of her was still a girl child of fifteen Cycles, and wished only to be warm and safe somewhere. The other, larger, part accepted that that was not a real option any more. Using the Power she could get herself off this ghastly mountain and to a town, houses, other humans. But how could she go anywhere without Farn?
Tika was aware too, that Mim would never let her down. Fearful he might be, but he would never willingly leave her to face any danger alone. And the Dragons. Tika was almost sure they knew more than they admitted about the Power. The more she worried at it, the more it seemed that their whole moral code was formed to contain and control access to the Power.
Her feet moved automatically, her thoughts successfully distracting her from the aching calf muscles, the ice scratched face and the overall coldness of her whole body. Sket and Motass linked arms behind her back, trying to protect her from some of the storm. Black curls, blown across her forehead, had frozen to her skin, and her eyelashes were caked with snow.
Tika became aware they had stopped moving. She had not the energy to really wonder why. Sket moved in front of her so she was between his body and Motass. The sudden cessation of the wind made her knees buckle, but then Sket moved away again and on they went. ‘A fengar over the side, Lady!’ Motass yelled above the screaming gale.
The path narrowed, Sket went ahead, reaching back for Tika’s hands. He pulled her along with Motass keeping close behind her. It seemed they climbed endlessly and the storm shrieked its rage at their invasion of the mountains, doing its best to dislodge them. As a gust of air wound round her legs, feeling almost like hands grabbing her ankles, Tika knew this was Rhaki’s doing. She would ask Gan, but she was suddenly sure the Guardian was an adept at weather Power. While he might not yet know who they were, she was positive he had set wards even this far from the Realm of Ice, which uninvited visitors would trigger into action as they passed.
To maintain such wards over such distances signified a very strong wielder of Power. How could she, even with Mim, Gan, and the Dragons, hope to succeed against such a one, she thought in despair. She stumbled, would have fallen if not for Sket’s hard grip of her hand.
She heard him shout to Motass and something was passed from him over her head to Motass. Then she was pulled up and found herself held tightly across Sket’s chest, her face against his leather coat. He wrapped his cloak across her and the wind was vanquished. Motass, carrying Sket’s pack now as well as his own, moved closer to hopefully prevent Sket sliding or falling on the treacherous path.
Tika had no idea how much longer Sket struggled on. She became aware that his breath was coming in gasps and she tried to wriggle herself free to walk again. He simply tightened his grip on her and went doggedly on. And then he stopped, his chest heaving under her cheek. Hands were pulling her free of Sket’s locked arms and someone else held her. Another hand gently brushed at her eyes, freeing her lashes from the frozen snow. She opened her eyes at last to see Mim peering at her worriedly. Then she heard Gan in her mind and knew he was speaking to both her and to Farn: ‘It is all right, we have arrived.’
Gan laid her against Farn’s chest and she saw a fire was already blazing, snow hissing as it met the flames. Kija said: ‘We used our fire to heat small rocks and Lorak had those little lumps that burn in his pack, which he put on the rocks.’
‘Splendid creature!’ murmured Fenj.
‘Give my Tika some of that concoction, Lorak.’ Farn ordered.
Gan watched as Lorak took a leather bottle from among the several that he had apparently neatly hung in his cloak. Lorak tilted the bottle to Tika’s mouth, allowing her a small sip. Gan bit his lip as Tika swallowed, choked and sat upright in surprise. He noted the colour suddenly tinting the high olive cheeks and that her eyes were watering.
‘Have you enough to spare a sip for all the men, Lorak?’ he asked quietly.
The ancient gardener grinned. ‘To be sure, Lord Gan. It is only a herb or two, mixed with any liquid, to give a zest.’
‘Zest is to do with plants?’ Fenj enquired with interest.
&
nbsp; Gan received an evil wink from Lorak as he handed over the leather bottle. ‘A sip each will be enough, Lord Gan.’ Then Lorak and Fenj were deep in a conversation, which Gan really preferred not to hear.
As the men huddled round the fire, cooks thawing their hands enough to try to get some sort of food ready, Brin suddenly called his great bass note, startling everyone. Faintly, they all heard a higher note through the roaring wind. Kija called, a mellow tone harmonising with Brin as he too called again. The reply came closer. The company forgot their coldness and weariness as they watched the three adult Dragons rear erect, bracing themselves against the storm and all staring into the wall of snow.
One moment there was a flurrying white denseness, and the next two more Dragons stood before them. Both were silver with golden specks tipping each separate scale. Their prismed eyes blazed with curiosity and excitement. One was just smaller than Farn and Ashta, the other no bigger than Jeela. They, too, raised themselves upright. The larger Dragon said: ‘May the stars guide your paths. I am Meppi.’
‘And I am Ulla,’ added the smaller Dragon.
Emla sat frozen in mid sentence in the library where she was working with Kemti. After a glance at her face, he realised someone was bespeaking her. ‘Kemti,’ she whispered, indicating that he was to listen, too. He heard a gentle voice in his mind, calling Emla’s name, at the same time as a raucous croaking came from the Garden below. He followed the Golden Lady to the window, even their tall graceful figures dwarfed by the immensely high embrasure. On the lawn below, two tattered, feather-ruffled black Merigs stood, staring up at them.
‘Merigs?’ Kemti asked aloud in some astonishment.
‘Merigs,’ agreed Emla. She unlatched the middle section of the window, pushing it wide, as she said, in the mind speech: ‘You are welcome, dear ones.’
‘Hmmmph!’ a Merig replied as they both flew heavily up to land on the sill. They seemed much bigger seen so close and Kemti noted just how large and businesslike the great horny beaks were. ‘Never bothered to talk to us, have you, Lady?’
‘No,’ Emla answered slowly. ‘For which, I truly apologise.’
‘Well, we are not attractive to the eyes of two-legs, we know. Although I find us the most beautiful of the races of feathered ones. We bring a message from one Gan,’ he concluded.
‘Wait then, if you please, until other Seniors can listen to you also. Would you prefer to stay out there or -?’
‘We will come in, to see your nest.’ The Merig announced, and flew over the lower part of the window, followed by his mate. Bright black eyes stared around the library as the Merig perched on the back of a chair. ‘Somewhat like a large cave,’ he was saying, as Iska and Yash arrived. His mate was busily examining some wall hangings and clearly had no interest in conversation at this point.
‘Can I offer you any food?’ Emla asked politely.
His head on one side, the Merig’s beady eyes regarded her. ‘I think you may not have meat several days old?’
‘Erm, I fear not. Perhaps we should just hear your message then?’
The Merig ruffled his feathers and drew himself up. ‘Thus begins my message.’
Thus the Golden Lady and three Seniors learned what had befallen the company. Iska immediately went to alert the household of the imminent return of seriously wounded Guards. She summoned the most skilled Healers from Gaharn and warned that there would soon need to be a full Gathering of Seniors to consider recent events.
She went back to the library, aware already of the hum and bustle as the Lady’s staff began converting several guest rooms into nursing accommodation. The Merigs had not chosen to leave yet, the female had pulled out several books from a top shelf half hidden by woven hangings. Kemti had rescued the books and raised an eyebrow at Emla. It was plain the female Merig had serious ideas for a future nesting site. It was with mixed feeling that they heard the male announce that they must leave.
‘I have messages to carry to the Wilderness.’
‘The Wilderness? I believed that to be a barren land, its soil somehow poisoned long ago?’ Kemti asked in surprise. ‘May I ask to whom you carry messages there?’
The Merig blinked. He dropped the formal voice for a more gossipy tone. ‘Not so much a particular message, more like general news you know.’ Then he blinked again and became vague. ‘Many live in the Wilderness – I forgot that you did not know. I think it is time that we left.’
He rasped a croaking screech at the female. She responded vigorously and noisily, obviously preferring to remain longer to further investigate the possibilities of nesting places here. A rather deafening disagreement ensued, ending with the male flapping weightily out of the window. Another few throaty grumbles and then the female departed also. Kemti quickly shut the window behind them. ‘A fortunate thing, perhaps, that it is not the egg-laying Season, Lady. I do not believe she would have left that shelf, if it was!’
‘They are readying rooms, Emla,’ said Iska. ‘I asked that one of the Healers here try to mind speak a fellow Healer with the wounded. It will help them to prepare better, prior to the arrival of the injured. I also summoned more from the City.”
‘Well thought, my dear,’ Emla smiled. ‘And what is your opinion of our “messengers”?’
Iska grinned. ‘I suggest that you keep these windows closed as the next Cycle warms – I suspect that female Merig may remember how ideal the bookshelf seemed!’
‘Speaking of the new Cycle warming, it is snowing now!’ Yash was standing by a window. ‘It is far too soon for snow such as this, surely?’
The others joined him, looking out. Only shortly before, the two Merigs had stood on a green lawn. It was now thinly covered with snow, which fell thicker and faster as they watched.
Yash glanced at Emla. ‘Rhaki always enjoyed playing with the weather, as I recall.’
She replied thoughtfully: ‘He did, did he not.’ She tapped a fingernail against the glass. ‘Do you know of any Seniors who are now adept at such things? A student, even?’
‘Not off hand Lady, but I will check for you.’
As they returned to the fireside, all suddenly chilled, Kemti remarked: ‘His use of Power must be great indeed to affect the weather this far from his Realm.’
‘No.’ Iska held her long hands out to the fire’s warmth. ‘I do not know enough of this myself but – clouds travel on the winds. I think it may be that he creates certain conditions quite nearby, then he causes the wind to carry the snow, or the rain, or whatever, in the direction he desires. So the Power may be used only locally to him.’ She looked up at their faces from where she knelt before the fire and smiled. ‘Then again, that may all be wishful thinking, but the idea of Rhaki having use of such tremendous Power I find rather alarming.’
‘There must be a full Gathering, Emla.’ Yash said. ‘Events are moving too rapidly. When all the People, and the humans with whom we share this Realm, learn of the numbers of Guards hurt by the Shardi, there will be much fear. Better we tell of it immediately.’
‘I took the liberty, Emla, of warning that a full Gathering would be called very soon, when I bespoke the Healers in Gaharn earlier.’
Emla nodded. ‘Very good, Iska. What would I do without you three?’ she asked them.
Kemti caught the Lady’s hand and raised it to his brow. ‘Students in the Asataria, Juniors, and then Seniors. We have travelled long and far together Lady.’
As they began to move out to the staircase, Emla said: ‘I think I at least will remain here to oversee the arrival of the Guards. I would like to speak to each, to thank them, before I come to the Gathering.’
‘I too would stay,’ Iska interposed quickly.
‘Kemti and I then, will go to Gaharn to ensure all attend. Shall we arrange it for two days from now Lady?’
‘Three days, I think.’ Emla decided. ‘The wounded are being moved only as fast as the Healers deem suitable. I imagine that means very slowly, so I will join you in the Chambers of Gathering at midday i
n three days from now.’
Kemti and Yash wrapped themselves in several layers of robes, weatherproof cloaks on top, pulled on sturdy boots and strode off towards the City. It would take several hours for them and their two Guards to descend from the Golden Lady’s House to Gaharn. The Guards were trained to move at a fast trot, to enable them to keep pace with the enormous strides the People normally travelled at.
The Lady herself enjoyed the walk into the City, although she was usually accompanied by a formal escort of Guards as well as two carts for her maids drawn by pairs of male kalfi. These were as placid as the female kalfi, which were kept for the milk they yielded in plentiful supplies.
It was midmorning on the second day after the Merigs had brought their news, that the fengar-drawn carts crawled through the Upper Pass to the Lady’s House. The snow had continued unabated but Emla had men keeping the main paths clear. As the wounded men were lifted gently to be borne into the House, Emla was appalled at their injuries.
Iska began work at once, assisting the dozen Healers who had hurried from Gaharn to join the Healers already present. Emla insisted the Healers who had travelled with the wounded go immediately to rest – they were swaying on their feet with fatigue. Despite their protests, she told them not to try to use their Powers until a full day’s rest had restored them.
It was late that evening before Shan managed to make Emla go to her private rooms and eat something, and it took a near tantrum to persuade her. ‘A bath is ready my Lady, and I will brush out your hair for you later.’ Shan was peeling the blood smeared top robe from Emla as she spoke. She tutted as she saw blood had soaked through to the Lady’s under robe. ‘You have many willing servants, Lady and all those Healers. Why must you work on those poor men yourself? Just look at you!’
Emla saw tears on Shan’s round cheeks. The girl adored her mistress, and was distressed that Emla had done what Shan saw as menial work in bathing the men and getting them clean. She took Shan’s face between her slender hands and held her still.
Soul Bonds Book 1 Circles of Light series Page 20