The Irda: Children Of The Stars lh-2

by Linda P. Baker

  The screaming went on and on, growing louder then ending abruptly in a silence more terrible than all the noise.

  Thinking, at last, that the voice crying out in terror had been Jelindra’s and not her own, Khallayne leapt to her feet, stumbling as her blanket caught around her ankles.

  Across the campfire Tenaj and Lyrralt each fought free of their blankets, too. Nearer the tent where Igraine slept, Jyrbian tossed off his blankets with a curse that woke more people. “‘What in the name of Sargonnas is happening now?”

  Before anyone could answer, a new scream ripped through the air. Without hesitation, Jyrbian drew his sword and wheeled in the direction of the disturbance. But his sword would be of no use against the thing that had sprung into the air, conjured out of nothing. Or maybe there was more than one. Khallayne wasn’t sure.

  As Jyrbian charged, slashing with his sword, the cloud that rose into the sky might have been one or twenty creatures. The faces of it changed rapidly. The monster was catlike, snakelike, fanged, black-mawed, a rock, mere mist. There were two, then one, then a mass of them, writhing like snakes streaming from their winter cave into the spring sun.

  Jyrbian’s sword sank into flesh and mist. An appendage, flickering between long, slithery tentacle and claw-tipped, gnarled horror, reached out and threw Jyrbian backward twenty feet. He landed in a heap and was still.

  Khallayne started toward him, and Tenaj grabbed her, hauling her back. “Forget him!”

  The creature was smaller now, more solid, more deadly, but still moving slowly, dreamlike, almost loving in its gestures, as it grasped a female Ogre around the neck with its impossibly long fingers.

  She tried to scream, but all that came out was gurgling, then abruptly no sound at all.

  The cloud creature had gained in substance while the living being had become a flimsy husk, lifeless, no more substantial than paper.

  There were new cries from about the camp as more Ogres awakened to find their view of the stars blotted out by the gruesome creature. Lords and ladies who had, weeks before, known a dagger only as a jeweled object to decorate a belt, took up their ceremonial swords and their crude pikes and prepared to fight.

  Khallayne knew their courage would do them no good. Hadn’t Jyrbian just proved that? She could sense Tenaj collecting her power, could hear the murmured words of a spell forming on the other Ogre’s lips. Tenaj was still only learning things Khallayne had practiced as a child, still tentative about the power inside her. Khallayne realized she had to help.

  The cloud creature turned on them. Its features were two, three, a dozen frightening faces, shifting until they were one, multiplying again, then melting into something ugly and monstrous and monolithic.

  Khallayne tried to close her eyes, tried to concentrate and bring up her own power. She couldn’t. She couldn’t move a muscle. Even her eyelids refused to budge, to blot out the dreamlike movement, the painfully slow change of features, from one to many. Chameleonlike. Dreamlike.

  Tenaj finished her spell, the words to a “banishing” spell hurled at the creature with all the neophyte force she could muster.

  The thing wavered in the air, then reared and moved in their direction, all teeth and roaring maw.

  It leapt at them, like a snake coiling and striking.

  In the instant before it struck, Khallayne perceived its true nature. Fifty feet away, maybe seventy, the tenuous, smokelike tail that tethered the cloud creature to the earth was connected to a sleeping form. In the center of pandemonium, in the middle of the attack, Jelindra slept. The creature issued from her. And it was Jelindra’s voice that had wakened Khallayne…

  Tenaj fell, struck by one of the writhing tentacles. She tried to regain her footing, but was dazed by the blow. She slipped. Her arms refused to support her weight as she tried to push herself back up.

  The horrible, half-melted, half-monster face leered at Khallayne. The stench of filth and corruption filled her nostrils. The nearness of the thing freed her tightened muscles.

  She flung up her hands, forming a shield to protect herself and Tenaj.

  “Do something!” Lyrralt materialized at her side, mace clutched in his fingers. He helped Tenaj to her feet, his tall, strong body bracing her, then grabbed Khallayne’s shoulder. “Stop the thing!”

  Khallayne tried to tear herself from his steely grasp. The tips of each of his fingers pressed bruises into her flesh. The thing lunged at them again and rebounded off her shield. It struck again and was repelled again. It reared up into the night and screamed, a roar of fury and frustration. It turned on the warriors surrounding it, on Ogres who hadn’t the power to shield themselves. It grabbed a young boy and lifted him, screaming and kicking, into the air.

  Lyrralt shook Khallayne. “Khallayne! Do something!”

  “Jelindra-” she managed to gasp. “Jelindra’s nightmare. Wake her.” She pointed to the sleeping form, barely visible through the crowd.

  At last comprehending, Lyrralt went into action. He leapt campfires, dodged confused, shouting Ogres, made it across the camp, and grabbed the sleeping Jelindra.

  His touch was rough and abrupt. In response, the creature writhing in the air above his head roared, spewing fire and noxious smoke. The flame licked at Lyrralt’s head and shoulders.

  Khallayne surged forward, sure he was about to be immolated. Just as she reached him, the creature disappeared. She blinked, blinked again.

  The monster was gone, leaving dark sky and twinkling stars overhead as if nothing had happened. Jelindra was sitting up, clutching her blanket in her fists. Lyrralt, standing above her, mace still clutched in hand, was unharmed.

  Then Jelindra screamed, hideously, pitifully.

  Khallayne and Lyrralt wheeled in the direction of the child’s stare, both expecting to find another monster.

  What they saw instead was Celise, Jelindra’s mother. She was kneeling on the ground, weeping over the lifeless husk that had been Nomryh.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Murderous Innocence

  “Is Jyrbian all right?” Khallayne asked Lyrralt as she wiped at her forehead wearily.

  Jelindra and Celise had been calmed at last, thanks to some wine, a little magic, and Igraine’s comforting, soothing words.

  Bakrell swaggered up in time to hear her question. “He’s making full complaint of an interesting bump on his head. Everlyn is patting his wrist, and my sister is fuming.”

  Holding her injured arm against her side, Tenaj laughed, a bell-like peal as silvery as her eyes.

  Bakrell looked at her with an appraising, appreciative expression that reminded Khallayne of the old Jyrbian, the one who had wooed her and every other woman at court with rowdy charm and high spirits. Now he had vanished behind a mask of authority, straining for the affection of a woman who paid him no attention.

  She felt a moment’s pang for that Jyrbian, that bygone world, then let it pass. Not for a return to that comfortable life would she give up the magic.

  The crowd around Jyrbian parted. He walked with a slight limp, his arm around Everlyn’s shoulders for support. His expression, beatific, was like nothing Khallayne had ever expected to see on his face.

  Whatever the extent of his injuries, at that moment he didn’t seem to be suffering much. Just as Bakrell had said, Kaede was holding his elbow for support. Storm clouds in the sky could be no darker than the expression on her face.

  “How’s Jelindra?” Everlyn asked, looking around for the child.

  Khallayne waited until the threesome was within hearing. “She’s better. Your father’s with them.”

  “Do you really think she dreamed that monster?” Jyrbian asked, his voice clipped.

  “Yes, but you can’t hold her responsible. She’s only a child, and she’s half mad with grief. And no one can control their dreams!”

  “If she caused that thing once… what do we do in the future?” he asked. “Let her accidentally kill us off one by one?” His voice was less harsh, less accusing, but still
bitter.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We could take turns at night watching her,” Everlyn suggested. “Surely, if it happens again, we can wake her up right away and break the spell.”

  “Or you can die, sucked dry, like her brother did.”

  Everlyn slipped from under Jyrbian’s arm, her face suddenly distant. “I think I’ll check on her.”

  “What about me?” Jyrbian called after her, his voice playful. Only Lyrralt knew him well enough to sense the disappointment in his tone.

  Everlyn smiled back over her shoulder, her long hair tumbling like silk down her back. “Surely you’ll manage.”

  The warmth of her smile made him forget everything. He didn’t notice Kaede’s expression slipping from troubled to bleak. Without glancing at Kaede, Jyrbian limped toward his bedroll.

  With a longing glance at Jyrbian’s back, Kaede turned to Bakrell. She motioned for him to stay with the group. He caught her arm and wordlessly held her for a moment.

  “Keep them occupied,” she whispered.

  Reluctantly, he nodded and went back to Khal-layne’s side as Kaede went to her bedroll for a shawl and a small package.

  As Kaede slipped out of camp, she saw that Bakrell was still in the center of the group, drawing their attention with his questions and conversation.

  Since the human attack near Nerat, the Ogres had been posting sentries at night. Kaede and Bakrell had taken turns, sitting outside the perimeter of the camp and watching the darkness. But someone could have slipped out-or in.

  Kaede pulled the dark shawl over her bright hair and crept away from the camp, heading out onto the plain. Solinari was just rising, offering a pale, cold light on the horizon. She walked through the tall grass, damp with dew, until the fires of the camp were mere twinkles in the distance, until the only sounds were the rustling of grass and the chirp of nightbirds.

  She searched until she came to a small rise. Beyond it, she dug a hole and planted the small package. There were no rocks on the plain, as there had been in the mountains, so she marked the place by pulling up all the grass around it for the width of her two hands. Then she set a small spell on it, a beacon for anyone who knew how to search.

  Brushing grass and dirt off her pants, she rose and started back to camp. Voices, so nearby that she could understand what they were saying, interrupted the quiet, sibilant whisper of the breeze.

  Kaede dropped to the ground, flat on her belly, waiting for the voices to start over. In a moment, a female’s soft voice broke the silence.

  “I’m here.”

  An equally soft, male voice answered.

  The female’s voice again. “Oh, Love, it’s you who’ve come.”

  This time Kaede recognized it. In spite of the pleasurable tone she’d never heard coloring Everlyn’s speech, she knew it was Everlyn’s voice! And in a lover’s clandestine meeting!

  Her heart caught in her throat as the male voice responded. She couldn’t hear it well enough to identify it. Praying that it wouldn’t be Jyrbian, she raised herself cautiously for a better look.

  Bakrell was sitting on her bedroll when Kaede slipped back into camp, waiting for her with a tense expression on his face.

  She glanced about, checking that no one appeared overly interested in their conversation before leaning close. “Bakrell, you won’t believe what I’ve discovered about Everlyn!” she whispered.

  He looked at her flushed face, at the exhilaration shining in her eyes. Her lips were pulled back in an intense smile. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Kaede.”

  The caution, the disapproval in his voice, dimmed her enthusiasm.

  “I was wondering… if you haven’t forgotten why we came here.” He looked first at her, then at his own hands, clasped in his lap.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said.” He edged closer to her. “I was wondering, considering the way you feel about Jyr-bian and all, if you’ve-”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything!” Kaede glared at him, slapping away the conciliatory hand he extended. “I’ve searched and searched, but I’m convinced that Jyrbian is the one. Why do you think I keep running after him?”

  Bakrell lifted an eyebrow at her and smiled.

  “All right,” she admitted. “I do want him for other reasons. What’s wrong with that? That only makes it more convincing. I haven’t forgotten why I came here, and I resent-”

  “Kaede.” He stopped her by gently placing his fingers over her mouth. “Slow down. You misunderstand. I wasn’t accusing you. I was-I’ve been thinking. This life really isn’t so bad, is it? I mean, if s pretty exciting, and we can do as we please. And I was just thinking maybe we shouldn’t cause any trouble…”

  “I have no intentions of causing trouble,” she said sweetly, and pushed him off her blankets.

  Two days later, Kaede waited for Jyrbian near the edge of the camp. He greeted her with a smile, which he regretted the moment her face lit up. She was a beguiling woman, and she had left no doubt about her interest in him. In another life, just a few short weeks ago, he would have been interested in her. But now there was Everlyn, and she eclipsed Kaede the way the sun outshone the stars.

  “Jyrbian,” she said, her voice as sweet as cream. “I have to talk with you.”

  The way she said it, he thought talking wasn’t what she had in mind. He answered with a word, her name. He eased the warning in his tone with a slight smile.

  She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his, pinning them to his sides playfully. Her breasts were soft against his chest, her breath sweet. “I want you.”

  He stepped back, gentle as he pushed her away. “Kaede, don’t. I won’t say I’m not tempted, but…”

  Her expression went from lighthearted and seductive to disappointed and grim. “You think you want her. But she’s not what she seems.”

  “Don’t say anything against Everlyn, Kaede,” he warned.

  “Then ask her yourself! Ask her why she leaves the camp when she thinks everyone is asleep. Ask her who she meets during the night! Ask her…”

  For the first time since she’d met him, Jyrbian’s fearsome temper frightened her. His face twisted with fury. His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her arms.

  “You’re hurting me,” she whimpered, pushing closer to him.

  “Hurting you!” he roared. “I’ll kill you!”

  “Then kill me!” She went still in his grasp. “Ask her, then kill me if I’m lying. I’ll sing my song of death quickly and lie quietly under your sword.” She pressed into him harder.

  He allowed it. He crushed her to him so hard that the knots in his belt scraped her skin. He twisted his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back.

  “Ask her. Unless you’re afraid to hear the truth. Unless you’re willing to accept her with the scent of a human’s hands still fresh on her body.”

  “What are you saying?” Jyrbian rasped.

  “The truth. I’ve seen things. Before you decide who you want, you should know the truth. Ask her. I’ll wait.”

  Jyrbian looked at her. He stepped back so suddenly that she stumbled. “I’ll be back,” he almost hissed.

  The conviction in her voice didn’t waver. “Not to kill me.”

  “I may kill you either way,” he vowed.

  He found Everlyn in Igraine’s tent, sitting on a camp stool at the makeshift table where Igraine kept his maps. A stub of candle on a piece of bark provided some illumination, warming Everlyn’s face with a soft glow. In a shadowed corner Jyrbian could discern a figure underneath a blanket that must be Jelindra, breathing rhythmically.

  “Is she sleeping?” he asked.

  Everlyn nodded. “You seem better.” When he appeared not to understand, she pointed at his leg and said, “You’re not limping anymore.”

  He shrugged, indicating that his injury was of no consequence.

  “What’s wrong?” She stood and moved closer to him, nearer the flap of the tent, away from the
sleeping figure. Still speaking softly, she laid her hand on his arm and repeated the question.

  “Everlyn…” He almost walked away. For a moment, he thought, I cannot live with knowing. But he had to know. “I have to ask you something. I have to… Is there-? I’ve been told-”

  He saw the truth in her eyes, the sadness, the fearful anticipation, even before he could finish the question. He knew the truth of Kaede’s words.

  “It’s true! You are sneaking out of the camp to meet someone.”

  “Yes.” She said it quietly, softly, without any regret.

  If she’d a tinge of remorse… “Who?”

  She shook her head and looked away.

  Weeks of watching and waiting washed over him like fever. “Why do you meet in secret like thieves?”

  Again she shook her head, but he already knew the answer. “So it’s true!” he hissed. “You turn me away, ignore my every smile, refuse the touch of my hand, for a slave.”

  “He’s no slave! He’s a… a being with a heart and a soul, the same as you and me.”

  Her quick defense, her easy tenderness, fanned his anger. A dagger slid into his belly would have caused no more agony.

  “Jyrbian, I’m sorry. I know this is not easy to explain, but… once I knew him… I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but love him! I couldn’t help but- And now, I don’t know what to do.” The words began to pour out of her. “I don’t know where to turn. We could never live with my people. And his kind hate the Ogres so. They’d never accept me.”

  Every word was a thorn driven into his heart. Yet, he wanted her to go on, wanted whatever intimacy she was willing to share, wanted to be the one to whom she revealed her heart.

  She glanced up, saw his stricken expression, the warring of emotions on his face. “Jyrbian, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But he has worn my heart… from the day he saved my life…”

  “Eadamm,” he breathed. He remembered the way the slave had spoken to her, that morning in her father’s home, the way she had looked at him. He realized that Everlyn would have stayed at Khal-Ther-axian if the slave had not advised her to go. He whispered the name again, tasting hatred and jealousy on his tongue.