Torrodil

by Luke Geraghty

  ‘The females were glutted by the act, whereas the men wanted revenge on mankind itself. If their women were not with them then they should suffer powerlessly on the sidelines. Both drew upon the Haradim fallen. While the women turned to the half of the spirit that is good, that heals, nurtures and protects, the men turned to the half that is black, destructive but powerful. Returning to Thrace, the women examined the rituals, seeking an answer in forgotten tomes, listening to the winds for guidance. The tempest Nerith learned of a spirit rite that would take the men’s lives, saving this world from destruction.

  ‘Leaving the children behind, two thousand women tracked the men to the Plains of Ephalus to the north, not far from the Venecian border. You must understand they did not want to give up their lives, Anna, but if we must make a choice between the extinction of our race or that of all mankind, then we choose our extinction.’

  The light caught the tears lying stiff on Caris’ cheeks.

  ‘The female daeva protected Nerith while she sang to the White Aether, taking in the essence of her sisters and using it to return the men’s spirits to the earth. They say when Nerith turned around and saw what lay at her feet the seas shuddered with her cry. Two thousand that would not smile or laugh or sing again. And the woman who had chosen this, had told them it was their duty, that they would go together as sisters and friends, was left behind to bear witness. Though the men could not watch, they had gotten their wish.’

  Twenty Three – Unrequited Gifts

  A week passed in Thrace and there was a sense among the seven that their adventures were coming to an end.

  After stealing back her gold and a little for her trouble, Kara got to work brewing vials. Her attempts were, at the outset, dire. Batches blew up in her face; putrid fumes went up her nose; and more than once Tommy casually remarked that there was a strange smell in the air only for Kara to realise her hair was on fire. Yet slowly but surely, mushroom clouds led to simmering pans, effort to result, and the Trickster restocked her inventory while learning a thing or two in the process.

  Lysander divided his time between reflection and early morning training. A lightcarver had gone to the Old Quarter oasis to practise summoning fogs and found the monk deep in reverie. She tried to wake him, pelting his face with orbs of smoke, but he didn’t flinch. Face in front of his, inquisitively poking, she temporarily blinded them both when he woke suddenly and decorated her face in a shower of build-up spit.

  Tommy spent his hours practising archery while Andres wrote down the group’s tale, narrowly avoiding the odd arrow. The Carric boy also befriended a female water elemental. Remembering Torroling Factoid 5: Why a Young Boy’s Hands are the Horned One’s Playthings, the elemental did not allow him to touch her.

  The two other Venecians practised fighting, but their enemies were very different. Belly swelled with free food, Cesar elected to point out every failing in the head chef’s cooking, starting with the over-seasoned hog broth. Who can say whether a spell in an electrified stockade helped temper his tongue.

  Mateo recovered full use of his sword arm post-poisoned spear by fighting the quick-footed Shivanni, who took him on a sneaky ride around the city, sharing her windrunner ability. In a disused bazaar they spotted Tevran looking like the cat that had got the cream and then, being exceedingly averse to anything calorific, not known what to do with it. An attempt to take cat along with the wind proved unsuccessful. A second attempt led to a verbal scolding. Much to Tevran’s eternal hurt, no further action was deemed necessary.

  The indomitable Anna Gray was unusually docile. Her companions did not suppose for one minute that their punishment would be severe, and she had made it to Thrace and the daeva like she wanted, so why the sadness? Anna fobbed them off. ‘Me? Sad? Get real.’ Lysander tried to talk to her but she spent most of her time in her room, coming out for mealtimes and to exchange airy banter.

  On the morning of their eighth day, the seven were summoned to the temple along with the disgraced leader Caris for the Circle’s verdict. Walking up the never-ending steps, Anna found herself sandwiched between Mateo and Cesar, tension jolting her out of a daydream.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Cesar. ‘We’ve been worried about you.’ And then to clarify: ‘All of us.’

  ‘W-w-w-we thought it might have been because of the Gauntlet. Maybe you saw something down there.’

  Yes, you two fighting to the death.

  ‘Whatever it is, don’t keep it locked away,’ said Cesar, tapping his head. ‘It’s not good to dwell on something like that. Eventually you won’t recognise what it is you’re afraid of.’ He spoke with empathy and there may have been something more he wanted to say had it not been for the time and circumstances they found themselves in.

  In the temple the nine women of the Circle were joined by the thirty civilian daeva, who had presumably come because a ceremonial incineration was too juicy to pass up. Caris and the seven were left to stand in the centre of the chamber where the hawk-eyed women could dissect them.

  ‘There is a harmony in the air, sisters,’ said Sophel. ‘In the coming days the army of Venecia will descend over Carrigan like a black cloud. We have chosen this time to announce that we will not involve ourselves in the disputes of men.’

  ‘Katharine started the war and she is no man,’ rebuked Cesar.

  Sophel examined, dwelt on the unshakable contempt her race felt for the male sex since that fated day, judged him unworthy and resumed. ‘Caris, as our sister, you are entitled to voice any items that you think merit our attention.’

  ‘I can only say that I believe your decision both wrong and against everything we stand for. There are few of us left. Walking round this city it’s not hard to see that we stand on oblivion’s edge. Yet we are a part of this earth. If we can prevent the annihilation of another race as our sisters did centuries ago, then we must do so. To stand by and watch is to shame their memory.’

  There is no outcry. It seems they cannot bear to look at either of them anymore.

  ‘Anna,’ says Sophel. ‘We have taken into consideration your passing of the Gauntlet, not to mention the restrained nature you have demonstrated during your time here.’ A cold glance at Cesar and Mateo. ‘You have come here not for material gain or prestige, seeking instead the key to your lineage. These six aided you on your quest, is that correct?’

  ‘I could not have done it without them.’

  ‘Then none of you will perish in this place.’

  Surprise in the Circle chamber and a sigh of relief from the six, despite presuming it was a foregone conclusion.

  ‘You are exiled from here, Anna Gray. You will not speak of it, nor think of it, nor return to it. Should you or one of your companions lead someone to our home, intentionally or otherwise, the verdict will be subject to review. A very long, raw review.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake,’ objected Caris.

  ‘Though we refuse war,’ continued Sophel, expressionless, ‘do not aggravate the humans and draw attention to yourself. The Aether can no longer take you in its thrall, but you still draw on a power that must not be left unchecked.’

  ‘Sophel.’

  ‘Live out your life with the humans, Anna. There is no place for you here.’

  ‘Listen to me!’

  ‘The time for listening is over, Caris.’

  Wunderkind holds her own, not even flinching. Sophel’s dry throat is allowed a little moisture to clear away the metallic taste. Daeva and Lysander analyse the two; Andres makes a mental note on the soundless hostility; Anna wonders why exile is the best present she’s had to date. From the sidelines a stone paragon of Nerith endures.

  ‘You have lied to us. Our own sister. We encouraged you, instilled in you our values, our history. In this, our hour of need, when you ought to have put aside your pride for our tattered hope, you conspired against us.’

  Sophel pauses. The seven feel now the deep-seated melancholy in these women. The time of the daeva has passed, yet they have been sen
tenced to watch its decline, destined to pass the ages as fragments of a former greatness, hoping that when one of their kind travels into the next life another is not born to take her place. At times numbers have dropped, always to rise to around forty: sufficient to share in the wonder of a soothing rain, the fragility of the first bud of spring, the slow road to ruin.

  ‘You will leave with her, Caris.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No trust exists between us. You have seen to that. In exile we hope you will encourage inner peace, rather than outer strife.’

  ‘One mistake.’

  ‘There is no redemption for such a sin.’

  ‘This is my home. I don’t know anywhere but here.’

  ‘The windrunners will take you now. Shivanni, lead them out.’

  ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘Shivanni.’

  ‘I am your sister.’

  With no expression, ‘Not anymore.’

  The complaining ebbed. The eight left the Circle chamber and there was a stretching length of time where no daeva spoke or moved. All that could be heard was a choir of locusts, indulging in the oasis crops sustained by their hands. Nerith endures and they endure with her.

  ‘What news?’ says Queen Katharine to the two scouts in front of her, waiting patiently next to Commander Drummel and an upright Lord Sutton. The whisky bottle may be out of sight but the tent’s odour proves the old girl has some breath in her yet.

  ‘The Venecians have entered our lands, Ma’am.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘They are large in number but light, with few horses save for those that carry provisions and arms. There are no cannonmasters but there can be no doubt: they head for Kelgard.’

  ‘Then slaughter awaits them.’

  The scout straightens his back. ‘It would, yes, if they weren’t marching with enough gunpowder to breach its walls ten times over.’

  Lord Sutton, studying a map laid across a table, sees the enemy’s strategy unfolding before him. ‘Where did you say you saw them last?’

  ‘Elmbrook. They skirted its borders with no interest.’

  ‘If speed is their intent then they would have to pass through Tarnwood Forest and Danduin Keep. The path is flanked by trees. The keep could be shored up, used as a distraction while the bulk of our forces lay hidden in the forest, awaiting our signal.’

  Commander Drummel chips in that it is a valid plan.

  ‘Danduin is crumbling,’ says Katharine, recalling the battle that had ravaged its stone. ‘No repair can save it.’

  ‘We are few against many, Your Majesty,’ says Sutton. ‘Once they enter the open plains there will be little hope of ensnaring them, and littler still any hope of reducing their number. But if you want to let superstition cloud your judgement…’

  A pause as Katharine envisages the Danduin Tapestry, the burning castle, the king’s head on the stump with the sharpened axe set to fall. ‘Ride out tonight. Prepare the keep.’

  ‘What will you do?’ asks Drummel.

  ‘We are a third of their number. The footmen and captains will journey with me to the next town, then follow the fields north to the forest edge.’

  ‘This is no time for dalliance,’ Sutton replies baldly. ‘The Outer Kingdom is nothing but cowards. They will not stand and fight, you have seen this.’

  ‘There is a difference between cowardice and fear, Sutton. Ride out with the Commander. It is in the men of Leitrim that I invest my hope now.’

  Rain in the Lost Valley assailed the sand, clumping together and flowing downhill. Damp had long gotten into the masonry of Thrace’s forgotten buildings, and wooden beams carried more than their share of rot.

  The Venecians were arguing tirelessly with Shivanni. Mateo expected the girl to demonstrate her patent disregard for authority but she declined. To Caris there were no voices bar her own, locked away where sorrow spun over the past. She thought about how she had not shared her life with another – man or woman. Her elders had pressed on her their beliefs, and after adolescence she had stopped fighting them, coming to accept, as they did, that to love another is to lose yourself. Training went well. She made friends. On a midnight expedition they snuck away to the western shores. It was the first time she felt the sea with its foamy waves; the first time she tasted salty air on the tip of her tongue. She ran in it, kicked it up, threw her friends in, got dragged down. And then, out of curiosity – more theirs than hers – commanded it to part, walking amongst the deep like it was a mountain path, pointing at the striations of marine life, shrieking in fear when the twin towers of water almost collapsed on their heads. Then duty came, and friends and expeditions went. She fell in love with it, but it never fell in love with her.

  ‘She’s from Leitrim and to Leitrim she’s gotta return, okay? No exceptions,’ said Shivanni, taking herself away from the drama.

  ‘There is nothing we can do,’ Anna conceded.

  ‘Do not say that,’ said Cesar. ‘We fought our way here for you. Fight for us.’

  Lysander, anticipating an outbreak of bickering, cut in and said that all was not lost. They would return to Leitrim, take the mountain pass and honour their promise to see the boys home.

  ‘Going back to where we started? The Venecian army is likely moving through there as we speak. It is not a safe r-r-route for any of us and Leitrim is hardly friendly territory either.’

  Tommy, mind racing with Venecian sunken galleons, and gigantic oyster pearls, and the somewhat frightening prospect of the living dead, had a good long scratch. ‘Listen,’ he said while the dandruff rained down. ‘I want to go home. See my nan. But me and Anna don’t want to stay there, do we Anna? This is a good thing. The mountains’ll be better than the desert for travelling over and the three of you already know the route. My nan’ll welcome us. We can hide with her for as long as we need to.’

  ‘You shouldn’t expect everything to be as you left it,’ warned Kara.

  ‘You will come with us?’ asked Cesar with heavy disbelief.

  ‘One needs to see if the rumours are true.’

  ‘Rumours?’

  Rampant interbreeding, she thought. She offered something up about Aracille being lovely in autumn, so she’d heard. The boy didn’t believe her. She could see it. Did his long tresses hide scars? Further deformities? What joy could be in store!

  Shivanni hated to butt in, ‘cept she was, like, ready to go. Sad about it. Totally bummed out. ‘Cept ready to go.

  As they moved to leave, Anna lingered a moment by the grey-flecked daeva’s side. She asked whether she would come with them; what she would do now. With eyes tracking the falling rain, Caris replied that her place was not with them. ‘The note the monk brought suggests an alliance between our factions. Though I have not heard of the Illuminate Order and cannot forge any alliance, I am hopeful I can learn something from the company of men.’ An interlude while she gathered her thoughts, Shivanni prattling on in the background. ‘I have failed you, Anna. You have come so far and I have been your undoing.’

  ‘I chose to come here and if it weren’t for you I doubt I would be allowed to leave.’

  Caris took off her heavy necklace and placed it in the young girl’s hand. ‘It is the Amulet of Nerith, worn by her at Ephalus.’

  ‘I can’t take this.’

  Closing Anna’s hand over the necklace, Caris said, ‘I give this to you freely. It does not diminish you to accept it.’ The woman returned to the slowing rain. ‘Go now, sister, your friends are waiting.’

  Instructed by Shivanni to do so, the seven stood in a circle under the porch, watching on while the babbling girl grew silent, concentrating and firing the air with a psychic energy. Outside of reason there came a minstrel’s words, filled with a lifting tune that filtered through the youths’ ears. As Shivanni became a conduit of the Aether, steam rose under their feet and lifted them into the air, lines of shape turning into colossal rams, pelts replaced by a see-through casing of white wind. Essences fused with the creatures
and form became blurred. For the outsider looking in, there were no shapes in the strange, blustering wind, but the eight within sensed each individual spirit, rapt by the soft lullaby of the white wind rams. There was a dim sense of passing time – the call of the minaret to evening prayer; the surge of the rapids skimming below; jungle green; mire black. Those who had not touched the Black Aether came to know its pull, hearing shadowy promises of what could be.

  The images were not for the faint of heart. The mother cradling a child in her arms, whispering that they could be together forever; the parents, tinged with blue, hair laden with leaves, whispering that he should have known better, done more; a sibling rivalry; a burning stable; a gift of magic; a chance for the guilt to go away. There is a flash of Aetherial vapour drifting out of empty sockets. For a man granted dominion over the dead, there is all the time in the world.

  Over a lake the seven are blown away, rams riding off into the horizon with their windrunner. Falling through sky, settling into concrete form, they landed with an almighty wallop on stone pavement. The compromising position Anna found herself in with Cesar was interrupted by a landing Trickster, who shattered a vial on the Venecian’s back, smothering the three of them with noxious pink gas. Something with the Vial of Choking batch had gone amiss, she decided, getting up and shooing away a mucky birth brand.

  The smell.

  The look of accepted poverty.

  The slow hobbling of the damned.

  They had arrived in Leitrim, Kara concluded. And it really was the pits.

  Twenty Four – Where the Heart Is

  Leitrim was smaller than Anna had left it, somehow paler, washed out by the sun. Maids emptied their masters’ chamber pots onto the cobbles with the same immunity. Tradesmen hurried with places to be, people to see. Anna thought they would judge or welcome, but they didn’t stop long enough to recognise her. She felt a little dry inside, as if her expectation that the town would blow away the cobwebs had been unjustified.