by Shannah Jay
‘I’d rather be dead than please any of you!’ she spat at him, recovering a little now she was away from Denny. But she wondered how long her courage would last.
When he’d eaten his fill, Mallery stood up and came across to seize Karialla by the arm, swinging her into a rough embrace. ‘First come, first served,’ he shouted and the others egged him on as he dragged her across to the shadows at the edge of the clearing. ‘This’ll do. Get your clothes off, girlie. I like to see what I’m holdin’ .’
She could hear how his breathing had deepened with lust. Shaking her head in refusal, she tried to face him bravely, but couldn’t help crying out when he punched her suddenly in the belly and banged her head on the nearest tree. Then he picked her up and shook her again.
‘That’s for the stubborn look on your face. If you want to go on living, girlie, you’ll do as you’re told. We’re going to tame you one way or the other. Y’aint got a chance against us an’ the sooner you realise it, the better. You’ll be meek as a dillybird come tomorrow. We know how to manage women. We’ve had a lot of practice these past few years.’
She lay still on the ground where he’d thrown her, shuddering with revulsion, not even trying to scream for help.
Who would hear? Or come to her help if they did hear? She’d heard travellers talking when she was on her healing trips and knew that screams in the night were commonplace where Discord reigned. She tried to edge backwards and felt the ground around her for a stone to hit him with.
‘’Tain’t no use lookin’ for a weapon,’ Mallery said in a cheerful tone of voice, starting to remove his breeches. ‘I’d
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just take the stone off you an’ beat a little more sense into you with it before I get started. Now take those clothes off, girlie! I’m gettin’ impatient.’
Bile rose in her throat as she stared at his filthy hairy legs and jutting lovestaff.
He’d barely finished pulling down his breeches when a mist began to gather in the clearing, rising swiftly from the earth itself. Karialla wasn’t the only one to call out in surprise, for she’d never seen a mist like this one. It glowed and pulsated as it wove around them, spreading livid blue-grey tendrils through the undergrowth and even dimming the light of the fire.
The men sitting there jumped up to stand in an uneasy group, staring at the dark undergrowth around them. Only one crescent moon gleamed in the sky as yet, and without the cheerful dancing flames that were now shadowed by the mist, the wildwoods seemed to have taken on an ominous, threatening look.
‘‘Tain’t natural, that mist ain’t.’
‘What is it, d’ye think?’
‘Sod knows, but I dunnot like it!’
Mallery froze where he stood, then, as the mist curled around his ankles and crept up his bare legs, he cursed and pulled his breeches back up again with frantic haste.
And the mist continued to gather, piling up higher and higher, writhing and bulging as if it were alive. The men moved closer to one another, fingered their knives and muttered, but didn’t try to run away, because beyond the half-hidden flames lay only darkness, which might contain far worse dangers.
Karialla stared around her at the mass of bubbling blue-white vapour that now covered the clearing to knee height.
Whatever was happening, it was preferable to being raped. She welcomed the mist’s damp caress on her skin, wishing it would cover her completely and wipe off the filthy touch of her attackers. Her breast was still throbbing with pain, her head hurt and there was a soreness in her belly where Mallery had punched her.
‘What’s that?’ called one man suddenly.
‘What? What’re you talkin’ about? I ent heard nothin’.’
‘Shut up, y’fool, an’ listen!’
There was a distant crashing sound in the undergrowth. Something was moving in their direction, thrusting nearer and nearer, something very large. Mallery seemed to have forgotten Karialla completely and was staring open-mouthed in the direction of the noise. His companions were still huddled in a nervous group on the far side of the fire, knives at the ready, uncertain whether they were about to be attacked or not.
Karialla recognised the sounds, though, and closed her eyes for a moment in relief. It was hard to mistake that K-thump, K-thump. The sounds grew closer and like the men, she couldn’t move, could only stare in the direction of the noise, waiting for she knew not what. Like them, she cried out in shock as the foliage to one side of the clearing thrashed around and a pair of deleff erupted into sight.
These were the largest deleff she’d ever seen. She hadn’t realised the creatures could grow so big. The ground shook beneath their feet as they trampled forward. One came towards her and bowled Mallery aside like an alehouse skittle.
Karialla waited for the angry creature to crush her beneath its tree-trunk feet, but instead, it stopped next to her and remained there. It seemed – was she imagining it? No she wasn’t. It was standing protectively over her.
Her former captor roared hoarsely in terror, scrambled to his feet and fled across the clearing towards his fellow raiders.
The second deleff paused for a moment beside the one guarding Karialla and raised its head to trumpet shrilly. It continued to shriek and stamp its massive feet until the world seemed to vibrate around them, then it started to move forward purposefully towards the group of men. With curses they retreated backwards, as if they didn’t dare turn away from it to flee.
One of them yelled suddenly, a wordless screech of defiance, and threw a knife, but it bounced harmlessly off the thick grey hide. The deleff paused once more by the fire, raised its snout and trumpeted so long and loudly that the clearing echoed with sound, sound that made vision blur and ears ring. When it stopped, the deleff set off again towards the men, stamping straight through the flames to reach them.
Karialla watched all this in breathless amazement. Flickering blue light seemed to emanate from the deleff’s back and
. . . she drew in a sharp breath. The light seemed to paint wing shapes that sprouted from the knobbly ridge—dark transparent wings that beat in mighty pulsing sweeps and trailed mist from their tips.
She suddenly remembered Pert’s words, ‘Just pray you never see them unfurl their wings’. But she didn’t feel afraid of the deleff, winged or not. They hadn’t harmed her, but saved her from rape and worse. Hope continued to well up inside her as she watched the raiders flee into the woods, and heard them yelling as they stumbled and fell in the darkness.
When the sound of bodies crashing through the undergrowth had vanished into the distance, she got shakily to her feet, adjusting her clothing. The first deleff remained patiently by her side. The second had gone after the men.
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‘I thank you,’ she said, not knowing whether it understood what it had done or not, but remembering how Pert and Mella had talked to their deleff.
It nodded its massive head as if in response, and the ruff of thin skin furled around its neck stiffened out into a wide frill.
She drew in her breath as the deleff moved closer to her. What did it want of her now? Why had the huge creatures saved her like this?
CHAPTER 3 Deverith the Healer
During the early years of the Discord Wars, Deverith lived in a village far to the north of Tenebrak. He was a healer greatly respected for his skills and much liked for his gentle sense of humour and kindliness.
If people had known he was planning to leave, they’d have begged him to stay and thus set fetters of need and love upon him. That had happened to him before. So he told them nothing of the restlessness that was surging through him.
But then, he’d never told them of his inner feelings or his previous life, only shared his skills with them, and listened to their worries, as a healer should.
The restlessness was nothing new and he was used to holding it in check, for it was a curse that had ridden him all his life. A few years here, a few years there, then he would experien
ce a desperate, overwhelming need to move on again. The only times he’d stayed in one place for more than five years had been when he was married. But neither of his wives had borne him children and both had died young. Each time, after his loss, he’d given in to his restlessness for a while until the sorrow eased.
He’d seen so much of his world, more than any other person living, he would guess. He’d travelled the land from north to south, from east to west, going far beyond the furthest settlement in every direction just to see what was there.
On each journey, he’d walked until he lost the desire to go further and then he’d stayed somewhere pleasant for a while.
When he’d started to long for company, he’d turned back and settled somewhere until the cycle of restlessness began again.
Mountains he’d seen, great jagged piles of rock so high that clouds rested permanently on their summits. At their feet had been quiet lakes, lying still and blue in the dawnlight, the water turned into sheets of gold by the noonday sun or silvered into a dazzling glory on a three-moon night.
He’d traversed vast plains where only grasses grew or small creeping plants and water was scarce, but where flowers spread out a carpet of beauty every spring that took his breath away.
In between these wonders, there had been wildwoods so lush you could move only slowly through the tangles of vegetation.
And there had been one place, the strangest of all, where water sprang hot from the ground, bathing the whole area in steam so that you lost your way. The pungent smells made your wits grow fuddled, too. He’d never managed to go further west than that place, wasn’t even sure whether there was land or sea beyond those steamy, bewildering swamps.
Whenever the need for company brought him back to the settled areas, he’d find a place to stay for a while and create a garden, for he had green fingers when he cared to exercise that gift. And not only was a healer always welcome, but there was land going free everywhere you turned outside the larger towns and villages. It was as if the land was waiting patiently for humans to fill it.
Each time he moved on, he consoled himself with the hope that he’d left behind him a better place, for he always shared his skills and taught people how to grow and use herbs, as well as how best to deal with most of the everyday ills.
Although the restlessness was a pounding fever in his blood this time, worse than it had been for years, he waited until Marlina’s baby was born before he did anything about it, because she hadn’t been well throughout the pregnancy.
And if he hadn’t been there she’d have died, the babe, too perhaps. Afterwards he counselled her how to avoid further pregnancies, for she wouldn’t survive another birth even with a healer present.
Thus he paid his debts to the people of Girrish, who had not only welcomed him, but built him a hut three years previously, fitting it out with their own possessions. People would do anything to keep a healer with them. Somehow, there were never enough to go around and new settlements were growing everywhere, for Discord had sent people fleeing in search of peace.
When he was sure the baby would thrive and no one else needed him desperately, he packed his things, taking only his medical supplies and what he needed for the road. He left behind the possessions the people of Girrish had given him and a simple note of farewell, thanking them for their hospitality and friendship. Then, one winter’s night, with two half-moons riding across a stormy night sky above him, he left his little house and walked away along the dark ribbon of track that led towards the east.
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At first things were peaceful, then he began to feel a sense of unease. Twice on that long journey he felt a strange unaccountable urge to hide and heeded it immediately, for similar impulses had saved his life before. He lay concealed behind some bushes, frowning, as he watched groups of raiders ride by. They were more numerous than he’d expected.
Discord was still thriving, it seemed.
That night he even considered going back to Girrish, for the little settlement was situated far beyond this madness, but no, he’d never gone back to live in the same place before and he wouldn’t do so now. It wasn’t safe, not for a man like him with secrets to hide.
Chance led him to the growing town of Setherak, but there was a healer visiting it, a young woman, they said, very capable, too. So he didn’t stay or even reveal his skills. He presented himself simply as a man wandering the land, the sort of traveller most people ignored.
A desire began to grow in him to see the eastern ocean again. He’d seen it once, seen it and marvelled at its implacable might. There were no settlements at all there, though he supposed there might be one day. Most of the land between it and the inhabited areas was covered in wildwoods, but as you got close to the ocean the woods thinned out and gave way to grassy, wind-swept downs. In some places there were cliffs, covered in tufts of wiry sea-grass, cliffs which dipped down to a small bay here and there.
The thought of going to the sea gave him great pleasure. He enjoyed bathing in the salty water, riding back to the beach on the foam of the high waves, had a fancy to do that again before he grew too old. He smiled wryly at that thought, for if they knew his real age, most people would consider him too old now.
Yes, he’d definitely make for the ocean. He was feeling a trifle weary. The sea bathing would invigorate him. It would take him months, perhaps over a year, to get there, but his time was his own. There was no hurry. On the way, he might find new herbs which he could share with others when he came back, as he often did on these trips. He seemed to have a sense for what plants might do from the taste and feel and look of them. Healer’s Sense, his mentor had called it when he trained in Tenebrak long ago.
It took him nearly three years to reach the coast, for whenever he came upon the aftermath of a raid, he always felt impelled to stop and try to heal the wounded. That happened several times, and on each occasion, the grieving survivors asked him why this had happened? Why had these complete strangers killed their loved ones?
But for all the wisdom the years had brought, Deverith had no answers to such questions. Even he couldn’t understand the madness that rode across the land. The only thing he could do was use his skills to help people, use them and then pass on, moving carefully across his troubled world like a shadow in the night.
***
In the third spring he left the settled lands behind him and sighed with relief to feel the clean untainted air of the wildwoods blowing softly around him. There were no smells of burning farms here, no screams of terrified children, no nerids galloping through the night carrying violent madmen on their backs.
When he came to a small lake, he stopped and camped for a while, making a small path down to the water and along the shore, but apart from that, trying not to touch the delicate wildwoods plants which withered when humans came too near. He watched the birds come in great flocks to feed from the lake, he enjoyed the dawns and sunsets reflected in the water, and he filled his eyes with the cool silver gleams of the moons as they tracked across the sky above him, allowing their reflections to linger briefly in his lake. There were fish and small animals to catch for food. He always felt a regret at taking their lives, but knew that his body needed meat from time to time.
Sometimes he would bathe in the crystal clear water, then lie naked in the sun to dry. One day, he carved a face in a piece of soft, but fine-grained wood, which he found near the lake. The grain dictated the type of face, and the result pleased him, though he wasn’t usually so skilled a carver. A woman, past the first blush of youth, but still young to him.
She’d seen trouble, but she was strong.
Maybe he’d meet her one day. Far stranger things had happened to him.
He put the face in his pack when he moved on and took it out to stare at it from time to time. She looked so real.
He laughed softly sometimes to think how attracted he was to that woman of his own creating. He could always laugh at himself and the world, not in a spiteful way
, but in appreciation of the jokes life played upon you. It was, he believed, a sign of sanity, to be able to view the world like that.
CHAPTER 4 Sarann
A year or two after the founding of Pavlin’s settlement a traders’ wagon rolled into an isolated village far to the north-west of Tenebrak. Surly villagers stared at the people on it and no one came forward to offer a greeting.
Jovis frowned as he looked around. ‘Should we move on?’ he asked his wife. ‘I don’t like the feel of this place.’
Shilra sighed wearily. No, let’s camp here for this night at least, even if we make no sales. I'd like to buy some fresh
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milk and vegetables for the children.’
Their daughter, Sarann, who was riding just behind them, stood up and stared forward across the driving seat, shivering. ‘I don’t like this place either, Father. I don’t want to stop here.’
The deleff stamped their feet up and down, as if they, too, felt uneasy.
‘See’' Sarann pointed. ‘Mezrith and Ferrin agree with me.’
Shilra's voice was sharper than usual. ‘We have to stop, Sarann. I’m too tired to move on. Now, be quiet and see to your brother.’
‘But – ’
Jovis hesitated, looked at his wife's weary face and said only, ‘You heard your mother, Sarann.’
She sat down again next to her brother. At ten she usually felt happy to be travelling the countryside with her family, but today she felt uneasy and kept twisting round to look behind them. Her brother was six, a solemn little lad, small for his age and dark, whereas his sister had hair of an unusual gilded brown colour, usually pulled back into a thick untidy plait.
Sarann muttered under her breath as the wagon slowed down. She knew, she just knew, that this wasn’t a good place to stop.
Jovis pulled the wagon up and called to a man standing nearby, ‘Where can we camp for the night, friend?’
The man turned away abruptly, acting as if he hadn’t even seen Jovis.