Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  'You are confused, Bryn,' said Kessian sharply. 'All of our talents, brief or otherwise, are bred for. Yours included.'

  Elsa squeezed Kessian's shoulder and straightened. 'I stand here before you, a Reader for the Order of Omniscience. I spend my life in the service of God. What we have achieved here is wonderful. A miracle. God put us here to develop his world during the cycles of life. That is what we have done. We have developed. Progressed.'

  Bryn barked a short laugh and turned his growing ire on her. 'And, esteemed Reader, is that the belief of your peers and superiors? Is that what the Chancellor believes? Do you think me so stupid I would swallow your pronouncements as gospel? When they caught Gorian, the Order denounced him as heretic. And if they had any inkling his work was being continued here, the armies would come. You do not represent either the Order or the Conquord, Elsa Gueran. You are the puppet of the Echelon.'

  Kessian could feel Elsa tense. She took a long, considered breath, then sat on the edge of the table.

  'I understand your point of view, Bryn, and I understand your fears. But you are wrong to think me a puppet. I am a believer in the true path of the Order. Today's Order is strong and all-pervasive but here in Westfallen and in pockets across the Conquord, we hold beliefs on which the Order was founded. That the people shall move ever closer to God. Should ascend to be one with God.'

  Kessian could see Bryn wasn't listening. Rational statements falling mute on an irrational mind.

  'It is now we need your strength, my friend,' said Kessian. 'You have worked so hard, given so much. Now we must stand together. There are testing times to come, dangerous times. We need you.'

  Bryn dropped his head. 'The Order will sweep you aside. I have been complicit for too long. All I can do is throw myself upon the mercy of the Omniscient.'

  Kessian looked at Elsa. She was shaking her head. The two of them rose to leave.

  'Get some rest, Bryn,' said Kessian. 'We'll send someone in. Prepare you some food to go with that fine wine of yours. Maybe clean up a little.'

  Bryn didn't raise his head. 'I am already sullied enough. I will see no one that you send, Father Kessian.'

  Andreas Koll was outside waiting for them. He smiled a little sadly.

  'Not good?' he asked.

  'Not at all,' said Kessian. 'I want him watched. Day and night. He is not to speak of what he saw to anyone save Elsa and the Echelon. We need trusted people on this, Andreas. Talk to his friends. See he is kept away from outsiders.'

  'Aren't you overreacting?' asked Elsa. 'He is not a danger. Just confused and scared.'

  Kessian frowned. 'You contradict yourself. He wants God's mercy. Who do you think he will ask for it. Not you, Elsa. One careless word now and everything we have striven for could be lost. I will not let him risk that. Anyway, it has to be done. He will be kept silent.'

  And Kessian knew with a calm certainty that he meant every word he said. No weakness. They could not afford it. Not now.

  'When does the solastro festival end?' he asked.

  'Five days,' said Andreas.

  'A critical time. When the festival is over and outsiders gone, we will address the town. We must know the scale of what we face within our own compass before we decide what must be done in the wider world.' Kessian passed a hand over his face. Bryn had shaken him to the core. His fear was palpable. And this in a man dedicated to the cause until so recently.

  'Elsa, I need you to consult your scriptures. Anything that supports us. Think of anything you can say that will calm people.'

  'We're going to have to show them what our Ascendants can do, aren't we?' she said.

  ‘I can see no way around it. Bryn's reaction has started the questions and we have no credible answers now. We have kept the Ascendants away from the people for long enough. We have to trust our own. If we cannot, we are lost.'

  'Then perhaps Bryn is a blessing for us,' said Andreas.

  Kessian smiled at the fourth strand Land Warden. Such a strong man. 'Your optimism is a lesson to us all.'

  'He's right, though,' said Elsa. 'Here we are in danger of wallowing in self pity and all that has happened is that one man has been badly frightened. Let's not lose sight of the miracle that Mirron and Arducius have shown us. Everything we prayed for has come to pass.'

  Kessian nodded. 'But can you not feel the passing of innocence?' He turned to walk back towards the docks. ‘I should go to the lake, see the Marshal. We need to accelerate our security plans.'

  Chapter 10

  844th cycle of God, 43rd day of Solasrise

  11th year of the true Ascendancy

  Willows Lake was two miles to the south-east of Westfallen and provided the town with all its fresh water, piped downhill to the town fountains and directly into the houses of the wealthy. It was over three miles long, had several fine shingle beaches and was bordered on three sides by its namesake trees, which offered shade at the water's edge. Fed by underground streams and rivers running in from the north and west, its surplus ran off to Genastro Falls via Garret's River, which could be dammed in times of drought.

  The lake was popular with Westfallen's people for fishing and for sail and oar training; and it was where the Ascendants had gone for the day to try and build on Mirron's progress. It was a place of peace to rival the plateau orchard. Marshal Vasselis, his wife and son had gone with them to learn what they could while Father Kessian went to talk to Bryn Marr.

  Gorian had watched Mirron and now Arducius make the first true link to the earth and they had both begun to blossom. Just two days and they were new people. Mirron was still afraid because she did not fully understand what it was she did. Arducius likewise though he had a more analytical mind. What fascinated Gorian was that both of them now had other talents at their fingertips.

  Arducius had developed a gentle breeze from a still sky when he broke through yesterday. Today, he had caused a small column of water to stand on the lake surface. Mirron could water-breathe now and had also brought worms to the surface, merely by placing her hands on the land. Small victories but it was as if doors had been opened in their minds.

  Gorian knew he was not far behind them. At least he was further

  advanced than the sickly Ossacer. Pathetic. Even Arducius was strong in mind despite his brittle bones. Ossacer was weak in mind and body and still in bed, shivering and moaning.

  Gorian had never had a day's sickness in his life. He might be behind now but he could feel his breakthrough coming. Today would be the perfect day. Marshal Vasselis was here and had stared speechless at the small tricks the other two had performed. And his son, Kovan, had been hanging around Mirron all day, overexuberant in his congratulations. A demonstration from Gorian better than the others put together would only be right. It would show who was destined to be the best of them.

  It was early afternoon and a perfect day, still and hot with the lake so calm your reflection hardly wavered in it. And so clear that the fish that had chased Mirron and Jen Shalke through the water were ribbons of flashing silver beneath the surface. It was an amazing sight and Gorian wanted a part of it.

  He had been sitting alone under the shade of a willow tree, watching the other two intently. Both were tired from their exertions now but talking to Willem, Genna and Hesther, who logged everything they said. Shela, Jen and his mother served a salad lunch at the tables permanently set up on the lakeside. Marshal Vasselis and his wife were holding court while Kovan sported in the water near the jetty, showing off for Mirron.

  Gorian pushed himself to his feet, feeling suddenly hungry. He wandered the short distance around the lakeside and crunched across the beach to the tables. From behind the big boathouse, he could hear the sound of an approaching horse and cart. Father Kessian was being driven to the lake by one of his servants. Now everyone was here. Perfect.

  The carriage rolled to a stop and the servant helped Father Kessian down. He walked slowly over to the lunch tables, relying heavily on his walking stick. Marshal Vasselis jumped u
p from his bench seat to embrace the Father. Mirron and Arducius broke from their mentors to do the same. Gorian didn't hurry, content to hear the Father's deep-voiced laughter carry over the water's surface.

  'Go steady on an old man,' he said. 'One at a time, one at a time.'

  Mirron and Arducius were babbling loud, recounting their triumphs. Gorian left them to it, standing by the jetty. He saw Kovan had stopped his swimming and diving now he was ignored. He was hanging on to a jetty stay, looking unhappy. Gorian smiled.

  'You'll never be one of us, will you? However hard you try. And that makes you unimportant. She knows that. You are wasting your time.'

  'You should watch what you say,' said Kovan. 'When my father dies, I will be Marshal Defender of Caraduk. I will be the one who rules you. All of you.'

  Gorian stared at him, wanting to laugh at his stupidity. 'No one will rule me.'

  'Gorian?' Kessian's voice beckoned him.

  He trotted over to the Father, who was taking a seat by Marshal Vasselis for lunch. 'Yes, Father?'

  'Come and sit down. Tell me what you've done this morning.' 'I've been waiting for you,' he replied, realising it was the absolute truth.

  'Oh? And why is that?'

  'I have something to show you. All of you. But I wanted to wait until you were here.'

  Kessian frowned and glanced aside to Genna who shrugged. 'I see. I heard you had been quiet, working by yourself over there. Have you discovered something?'

  'No.'

  'So what can you have to show me?'

  Gorian felt a stab of anger at his doubt. Vasselis saw it and laid a hand on Kessian's arm.

  'Come on, Ardol, just let the lad show you want he wants. You never know, he might surprise and delight you.'

  Kessian smiled, but the doubt remained. 'Go on, Gorian.'

  Gorian walked away a couple of paces to make sure they could all see him. Around him, on the edge of the beech, the grass was a healthy deep green, fed by the water and warmed by the sun. He checked to make sure they were all looking at him. Father Kessian, the Echelon, the Ascendants, and Marshal Vasselis. Then he knelt down.

  With his hands almost lost in the grass, he could feel what his eyes had already told him. The vegetation here was strong and vibrant, the conditions ideal for growth. The grass was thick, the stems tough.

  Beneath the grass he could sense tree roots seeking fertile ground and moisture from the lake. The tiny movements of mites, insects, spiders and worms filtered up through his fingers, taking a place in the organisation of his mind. He was a Herd Master of extraordinary skill and had already played his part in the saving of many an animal on Westfallen's farms. Yet that had been his only ability so far.

  But today, the world of the Land Warden was his, too. Strange. He had never doubted that this would be the moment. Not since they had walked up here this morning, laughing and joking, playing and swimming together. He had felt a lightness of spirit, a closeness to Mirron in particular, but to Arducius too. It was not something he was used to but he found he liked it. It was something he could use to gain advantage. And what he felt today made all those years of endless learning and effort worthwhile.

  Around him, all voices were silent. Perhaps his face was giving away that he could truly feel the land. But he wasn't finished yet. He focused hard on the grass that surrounded him. While he gazed at the green on which he knelt, he delved deep into the structure of the stems themselves. He applied the understandings of his Herd-Mastership. The methods of looking past that which the naked eye can see, sensing the trails of energy that bound cells together and promoted growth and life.

  In a cow or a horse, if there was damage or disease, it appeared as a break in the trails with the centre of the problem an indistinct area. If it had a colour, it would be grey, vaguely shifting and formless. That's how it appeared to Gorian's mind's eye.

  No such damage here, though. He traced the trails that surged through the earth. He could tell where they branched to feed into each individual strand. It was like a map laid out in intricate detail, all available through his touch and decoded by his mind.

  It was truly wonderful. He felt a surge of joy, of power potential. And of greatness. So he searched for the way to change what he could sense. The area was small; little more than that cast by his shadow before the trails and sensations began to fade.

  He tried to remember what Mirron had said. About letting your muscles relax and directing the free energy all around into the trails you wanted. She had said it was like making your mind a net and then just pointing your finger to make the trails swell with energy and life.

  But it was vague. She couldn't put her feelings and senses into words. And she was talking about directing fire and water. His task was to alter living matter. Looking deep into the structure of the grass, he could see what he had to do. In the heart of the stalk, down at the base where the root thickened to burst above ground, there was a pulsing. It was different in every strand. There bright and dominant, there faint and weak, with the energy trails leading to each and every one. He sought deeper, tried to channel his focus on the pulsing.

  He paused, his heart suddenly beating hard. How was it that it felt this natural . . . this intuitive? These feelings, these extraordinary sensations, had been concealed for so long. Always at the edge of his comprehension but never close enough for him to savour. Until now. Exhilaration flooded him. It could have broken his concentration. Instead, he channelled it into the pulsing of the stems. He diverted his excitement into forcing energy hard and fast into the life-force of hundreds of blades of grass surrounding him. It had to be the right course of action for the result he desired.

  And in the moment he did so, every pulse flared in his mind's eye. Some quickly guttered like dying candle flames and snuffed out. Others roared with health, growth and energy. Immediately, he felt his concentration begin to wane. Like he was standing holding two ends of ropes, each pulling him hard in opposite directions. And he desperate to cling on to both, fearing what might happen if he let go of either. Yet the more he tried, the more he was unable to maintain his focus.

  It was over abruptly. No longer could he force the lines of energy into the flaring and fading pulses. He withdrew into himself, knowing he was spent. In his mind, both ends of the rope were let go. He felt himself falling sideways but there, in his sudden fatigue, was the thrill of triumph.

  Kessian watched Gorian emerge in awed silence. They all did. He was ashamed that he had mistaken the boy's bearing for arrogance and bravado like so often before. Fortunately, Vasselis had seen it for what it was.

  He knew he shouldn't have been as impressed with the display as with the understanding of the processes behind it but he couldn't help it. None of the first Gorian's writings had prepared them for the sights they had seen these past few days. Of course, he had only been able to theorise, having witnessed nothing like it himself. Yet in the midst of his amazement, Kessian found the time to marvel at Gorian's vision.

  So to his namesake. A boy surely destined for similar mythical status. But at this moment hidden inside a thick curtain of grass stems three feet tall and more. Kessian had watched them grow from a tenth of that height in less time than he could count thirty. And all the while, Gorian's face had begun to wrinkle. Not much, and it could have been with the effort but Kessian didn't think so. The boy had developed tiny crow's feet around his eyes before the grass had obscured him.

  Now he lay still and his mother, Meera Naravny, was running to his side. The rest of them were not far behind. Mirron and Arducius were first to jump on him and hug him, Mirron fiercely, Arducius gently, both delirious at his achievement. And the others trailing their hands through the lustrous long grass, all smiles and satisfaction.

  It was as the Echelon had planned. Kessian felt that warmth within him again that had nothing to do with the heat from above. His walk was more stately, more knowing than before. He could not deny the joy in his heart that suffused his aching, aged, tired body.
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  Like the others, he let his hand brush the tall new-grown grass. He looked down at it and frowned, curious. In amongst the vibrant green thicket of stems were scattered the brown and brittle of the long dead and dried out. Perhaps Gorian could explain it later. An oddity, though.

  Meera had Gorian cradled in her arms now, kneeling by the exhausted Ascendant, having shooed away his friends. She was stroking his hair and speaking soothing, proud words. He clung to her, needing her closeness and warmth.

  'Well, will you look at that,' she said. 'Ardol, over here.'

  Kessian moved to her. Meera pointed to Gorian's temple. He didn't see what bothered her for a moment but soon it became very obvious. His hair. Among all the richness of youth there was grey.

  Kessian shrugged at Vasselis's question. The two men were dining alone in a small private room in the villa. In the main dining room, Netta and Kovan Vasselis hosted the rest of the Echelon.

  It had been a true day of contrasts. From his despair at Bryn's condition to the joy of Gorian's emergence and now the flat weight of reality that was becoming twined about them as a consequence.

  'There are undoubtedly many effects of ascendancy that we are yet to witness. We'll watch young Gorian, though I am sure he'll recover very quickly.'

  The boy had been supported to the wagon with no strength in his legs. As well as the grey in his hair there had been the tiny wrinkles around his eyes that Kessian had seen form. These had remained even when Gorian's broad smile had faded. There was a great deal to document. Genna and Meera had begun before dinner was served.

  Kessian breathed out and sat up from his reclining position on his couch. Between him and Vasselis, a low table held the remains of their food and drink. Bread, mutton and roasted vegetables. Rich sauces still steamed gently in beautifully crafted and decorated jugs from the potteries of Atreska. A half-full jug of spiced, heated red wine was at Vasselis's right hand. Kessian waved his empty goblet at the Marshal while examining the food and concluding he had eaten enough.