Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Kantees paused at the entrance to make sure Yenteel and Gally went through.

  “Keep going, it only goes to the circle,” she said. The armsmen were taking up position behind the shattered carts and debris. The whirring of an arrow startled her, but it was going away from them. Turning to see Daybian nocking another, she blinked. She had not even seen him pick them up.

  The second arrow whistled away as Sheesha brought up the rear of the ziri.

  “You go,” said Daybian. “I can hold them off for a short time.”

  Kantees could see the five arrows at his feet. A very short time. An incoming arrow shattered as it hit the wall above the exit.

  “They’re as bad as me,” said Daybian.

  “Don’t get yourself killed,” she said.

  He fired. Four arrows. “So you do care about me?”

  “As much as I care for any sad and pathetic animal. Oh!” An arrow grazed her arm, drawing blood.

  “Love to chat,” said Daybian. He fired. Three arrows. “But you have some other sad and pathetic animals to look after.”

  She turned away from him and hurried down the tunnel, feeling like she was never going to see him again. And for some reason, that made her chest hurt.

  She picked up the pace. He only had a couple of arrows and while they might be cautious crossing the cave it wouldn’t take them long. But all she and the others had to do was get on the ziri and fly out of here.

  When she got to the bottom of the tunnel she had to push her way through four ziri and two humans crammed by the door.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Archers,” said Yenteel and pointed up.

  She cursed herself for an idiot. Of course. They weren’t stupid; they would have surmised the plan and put men on guard.

  “To the Kisharuk with them,” she said and ran out into the circle.

  There were three sets of candelabra. Before an arrow hit the ground she knocked the first one over, she had come out so fast and unexpectedly. She reached the second and that went over, too. Most of the candles went out as they hit the ground. The archers couldn’t hit what they couldn’t see. But they would have realised what she was doing and if they had any sense they would be aiming for the third one, waiting for her to appear.

  She didn’t stop moving but breathed a prayer to the Mother and then screamed as she ran at the third. Pain ripped through her leg as she struck its heavy metal stem and knocked it down. She fell in the other direction but kept rolling despite the pain, hoping to disappear into the shadows available.

  She did not die.

  Not yet.

  But there was no time. Daybian would be out of arrows by now but he would stay there, pretending he was still able to shoot, to slow them down. He was an idiot too. They were well-matched in that way.

  “Come out, quickly. Stay to the sides.”

  Yenteel and Gally emerged. Light came down from above, of course, and Kantees found it hard to believe that the people up there could not see them as easily as she could. But no arrows flew. They would be waiting for the ziri to come up, when they would be easy targets.

  And they were right to do so; there was no way they could miss a bunch of giant flapping dragons. For a moment she contemplated returning to the cavern but in that space the ziri would not be able to fly and could be picked off easily.

  “Look,” she said to the other two as Sheesha strode out into the circle. “We can ride without a saddle and reins.” Sheesha stooped and she flung a leg over his neck. “We sit where the saddle would be and hook our legs under the wings like this.”

  “How can you guide them?” said Yenteel.

  “You lean forwards, back, left, and right. They understand what’s needed but mostly you just have to give them a direction and let them do it. You don’t have to control their every movement.”

  She looked at Jintan. She expected he would just follow the rest, leaving Daybian behind.

  “There will be archers at the top,” she said. “Sheesha and I will go first and draw their fire.”

  “I’m sorry I have no pattern I can work to help,” said Yenteel.

  “Nobody has a pattern for this,” she said. “Nobody has done what we are doing. We make our own patterns.”

  But we are on a ley-circle, she thought. It may not be the most powerful in the world but beneath us lies the power of the Mother’s milk.

  She leaned forwards and put her arms around Sheesha’s neck. In the distance she could hear fighting. They had reached Daybian. Very soon they would be here.

  “Sheesha,” she said quietly to him. “The power is here. Can we not use it, my love?”

  She imagined she felt the power of the zirichasa and imagined the milk beneath them that did not lie quiet. It was a roiling lake, bubbling and steaming, desperate to be free. The raw power of which patterns were made waiting to be shaped. Why not shaped by the ziri?

  “Up, Sheesha!”

  He burst into the air and stroked hard upwards. Faster and faster. The light grew.

  And went golden.

  It was almost as if they jumped skyward. She knew she should have fallen but there was no sensation. The light blinked away and for a moment they were falling. Kantees hung on as Sheesha regained control. They were above the hole, at least the height of the Ziri Tower.

  Without a word from Kantees, Sheesha screamed and dived.

  The well of the ley-circle was surrounded by armsmen, not a great number but plenty enough to shoot ziri in a barrel. But they were not peering into the well. They were staring up at Sheesha as he roared from the sky directly at them.

  Kantees could barely look as the first half-dozen were knocked into the well. And, while Looesa and Shingul made their way from the depths, the archers ran from the monstrous winged creature, their weapons forgotten as this sky-demon that had shot from the well, bathed in golden light, came roaring at them.

  Not a single arrow was fired.

  Kantees saw Looesa and Shingul emerge into the light but Jintan was not following.

  Kantees oriented herself and pointed back along the coast. “Yenteel! Follow the coast until you come to a village that is burning. Wait for us there.”

  He nodded and awkwardly managed to get Shingul turning.

  Sheesha needed no encouragement to dive back into the hole. Kantees came down slowly, she did not want to collide with Jintan on the way up.

  The words “Jintan, up!” echoed from below and Kantees grinned in relief. Daybian was too stupid to die.

  Then there was a cry of pain—not human. “Jintan! Come on, you can do it.”

  “Daybian!” shouted Kantees.

  “Come on, Jintan, old warrior!”

  “Daybian!”

  Kantees couldn’t see anything. She urged Sheesha lower but he was reluctant. What could he see that she could not?

  “Ah! Get off me, you brute.” Daybian.

  All she could hear was hissing and snapping which ceased abruptly. An arrow arched up and over Sheesha before falling back. She could have snatched it from the air if it had been closer.

  “Daybian!”

  “I’m all right, Kantees. Jintan …” His voice broke off. “Don’t come down. Too many.”

  Then there was another thud and he said nothing more.

  Kantees held in her grief.

  “Sheesha, go.”

  Strong wing beats carried her up and out.

  Twenty-Eight

  She did not know why she was crying—she didn’t even like him much—but she could not argue with the tears. The world was a damp blur and she barely knew the right direction. But Sheesha did.

  Did Sheesha grieve for Jintan? She could not tell but if she worried for someone else she could push her own sorrow away.

  This time she had succeeded in getting one of them killed.

  The others, especially Daybian, would say that it was not her fault. But she was in charge, although she was not entirely sure how that had happened. Perhaps if she had been willing t
o let Daybian lead they wouldn’t have got into this situation. Perhaps.

  And now Jintan was dead. He was old, of course, but that was not the reason his body lay at the bottom of the well getting cold. She was. If she hadn’t been so foolhardy this morning—was it only this morning? If she had not tried to kill herself and leapt from the tower, then Sheesha would not have saved her and she would not have been carried away by him.

  Daybian would have been taken off to wherever the Hamalain were taking him. Perhaps they would have taken her as well. She did not want to admit that Yenteel was right. If they had followed that course she, Gally, and he would be dead and the ziri would be living in the Hamalain tower.

  Instead they were all alive save for one zirichak.

  That did not make it all right. She cared more for the ziri than any of the people, except perhaps Gally. The loss of Jintan hurt her like a thousand torments.

  But this was no time to be maudlin. She needed to focus. They may have lost Jintan and Daybian but she had a good idea of where the tekrak was and where it was heading. While it was clearly possible to make a tekrak fly at night, it was still a plant and she doubted it liked to travel in the dark. Plants wanted light, and especially sunlight. That was why they flew as high as possible when they travelled the skies in spring and autumn—to stay above the clouds—and why they landed at night. To feed and to rest.

  And they were now just a day behind it and its handlers (or was it its crew?), and the ziri could fly faster than a tekrak. The only question was what direction the enemy had gone.

  The wind had dried her tears. She took Sheesha up so that she could see further. Hopefully, his superior eyesight would spot the other two soon. They needed her direction.

  The smoke of the burned village came into view and she set Sheesha to descend. She heard the deep, hooting calls of Looesa and Shingul as they caught sight of Sheesha. It made her smile. Below she could see them on the top of the cliff with their wings outstretched, two figures standing near to them.

  And at what cost had she rescued them? The armsmen would tell their masters how the ziri had shot like a golden arrow from the ley-circle and at such a speed they could not possibly have fired on it. Then the Hamalain would know that their search had been successful, even though they had lost their brother. Just as Yenteel no doubt did. He could be smug in the knowledge that he had chosen the right person to attach himself to.

  But, she thought, it’s not me. It’s Sheesha.

  “Gally rode Looesa without a saddle, Kantees” was the first thing he said to her after she slipped from Sheesha’s back to the ground. She put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug. “And you were like a flower!” He grinned widely.

  She frowned. “A flower, Gally? I am not like a flower.”

  “A yellow flower growing very fast.”

  Then she laughed. Of course. “Yes, I suppose I was.”

  “I am also interested in how you became a flower,” said Yenteel, and he was not smiling at all. “Very interested indeed.”

  “Where is Jintan?” said Gally.

  Kantees froze. How could she explain to Gally? She looked at Yenteel and the look on her face must have told him everything.

  “Daybian?” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Gally, but Jintan was hurt by the armsmen when he tried to escape with Daybian.”

  “Is he killed?”

  Kantees was not sure whether he meant Jintan or Daybian.

  “Daybian is alive, I think.” She stopped with the lump in her throat threatening to steal her words. “Jintan was killed.” Her voice came out in a croak that could barely be heard.

  “Poor Jintan,” said Gally. “Gally thinks he would have liked to be like Sheesha’s flower.”

  Kantees turned away to face the sea. Her throat hurt, and the grief was like heavy clouds in her eyes. She did not trust herself to speak without sobbing and she did not want to do that in front of Gally and Kantees.

  As she faced away from them, trying to get control of herself, a group of the villagers appeared over the top of the cliff. She recognised Welyn, and wondered why he was chosen to speak to them. Was it because their skin colour was the same? Did people really care out here, even though Welyn lived among them and had even had a wife and child? People were strange.

  She was more surprised to see the old Mother. For some reason Kantees had it in her head the woman would stay in her cave, weaving patterns to ensure a good harvest of fish and healing the sick.

  So Kantees swallowed her grief and brushed the tears from her eyes, and when they arrived she introduced them: Welyn first, and then the old Mother.

  “She’s not old,” said Gally.

  “My name is Lintha,” she said to Gally. “I am not old, but I am older than you. So you can call me Mother.”

  There was something about her that made Gally stare and then realise he was staring, for which he had been punished in the past, and he looked away.

  “Old Mother,” said Yenteel. “I am honoured to be in the presence of one so revered and wise.”

  She looked slightly amused. “I suspect you are a man with a sly tongue.”

  Yenteel did not smile but looked her in the eye. “Everything I have is at your disposal. Even my tongue.”

  Kantees was shocked and outraged on the woman’s behalf, but she just laughed.

  “If I require your service, I will send for you. But I doubt there is anything you can do for me.”

  “I am well travelled and have learnt much. I am happy to be a teacher as well as a student.”

  At which point Kantees became confused. From what Yenteel had said back at the castle, she had assumed he was one preferred the company of other men. Yet here he was, flirting with the wise woman of the village.

  She interrupted. “We have important matters to deal with.”

  Yenteel had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “You intend to go after the raiders?” said Lintha.

  Kantees nodded. “They have the son of the Jakalain, and your daughters.” She glanced at Welyn’s face as she said it; he mirrored her own grief, though she could not imagine what it must feel like to lose one’s own flesh. She had no one but the ziri.

  “If you are able, then we will be forever in your debt.”

  “You are Taymalin and we are nothing but runaway slaves. You will owe us nothing.”

  Lintha smiled. “You think I am Taymalin because my skin is pale? My father was as dark as Welyn, and he was the leader of the village for most of his life. Just as Welyn is now—why do you think he is the one who speaks with you? My mother was dark too, but her mother had been of the Taymalin—as much as we care about such things—and I take from her. It is only in the cities that those in power make distinctions based on skin. We cannot afford to. Our blood is the same colour, and it is only by our blood and sweat that we can live.”

  Kantees was not sure what to say. She felt she owed them an apology, but to give one would reveal the depth of her own prejudice—inherited from the masters. So instead she went back to the point.

  “Can you help us?”

  “We can give you food and a place to sleep for the night that is out of the wind.”

  “And the ziri?”

  “There are caves large enough.”

  “I would sleep with the ziri,” she said. “And so will Gally.”

  “I’ll take a bed,” said Yenteel.

  Lintha gave him a sidelong glance. “We will see what can be arranged. Our houses are barely habitable and it will take a while to put them back in order. The fishing must always take precedence.”

  The wind had increased and was blowing the feathers of the zirichasa every which way.

  And then rain hit them. Freezing cold, from off the sea.

  Kantees, Gally, and the three ziri were housed in a cave that was used for storage and stank of fish. But it was deep and well out of the rain. Dry wood was brought for them to build a fire. The cave became smoky but not so bad that they c
ouldn’t sleep.

  Yenteel, as he had said, did not sleep in the cave. Kantees suspected he might be with the old Mother, and shook her head. It seemed inappropriate somehow and still a little confusing. So instead she worried about Daybian. She hoped he had not been killed, but she was determined to find him anyway. Then she would avenge or rescue him, whichever it happened to be.

  Then she thought of Jintan, and cried into Sheesha’s feathers.

  Twenty-Nine

  Breakfast involved bread and eggs. Kantees was grateful it wasn’t fish, though she suspected fish was brought out for meals most of the time. The fields at the top of the cliff did not look as they provided more than a meagre supplement for the main product. The bread was old and hard, since the ovens had been destroyed in the fires, but the eggs flavoursome.

  Yenteel joined them when she and Gally had almost finished, but he did not want any of their food. He looked tired. Kantees shook her head slightly, and went back to finishing the mess of eggs on the stone that served as a plate.

  “Did you receive any divine inspiration as to where we should go?” said Kantees in a tone that was more cutting than she had intended when the words were in her head.

  But Yenteel did not seem to notice. “Along the coast.”

  “Gally likes the eggs.”

  Yenteel spoke before Kantees had a chance. “That’s good, Gally, make sure you eat them all up, too.”

  Kantees frowned at him. Did he think he was going to usurp her authority over Gally as well? She was almost tempted to tell him about the ziri magic. Just to show him she was still in charge.

  It was almost as if he read her mind. “Are you going to explain about what you and Sheesha did yesterday?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He turned and looked at her. He might have been tired but she felt as if he was attempting to pull the very thoughts from her mind. Honestly, she didn’t know why she was being so contrary. Only that she was irritated with him.

  “Magic, Kantees.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, it was magic. I felt it. You said you don’t know any patterns.”