He travelled across country for three days, resting only for a few hours in the middle of the night, and eating whatever he could scavenge. At this time of year, the middle of summer, white and red gumnuts were bursting to life. The colours and bush smells reminded him of his childhood. Again and again he forced the aching memories to the back of his mind, but the beautiful, rugged Highlands refused to let him bury them for long.
It wasn’t until well after dark on the fourth day that he reached the small town where he grew up. The name of the place escaped him – in the first few months of his time with the Arai, his captors had tried to erase the details of his past from his mind. But the feeling of the land – its lay, its dips and curves – had never left him. The only names he’d managed to hold onto were those of his father and sister, Jakob and Safía.
On the outskirts of the town, a skeleton dressed in an Arai uniform swayed from a noose hitched to a tree. Cal clapped a hand over his chest, as if the bush around him could see right through his shirt to the black tattoo beneath. He was glad it was night – his muddied clothes might fool archers at a distance, but the disguise wouldn’t hold up under close scrutiny.
He padded up the dusty path and skirted a clutch of mudbrick houses, careful to avoid the candlelight that seeped onto the road. Halfway up the hill he stopped at a door. This was the place. He could feel it. He remembered the open-air smithy built off to one side, with its large stone hearth, piles of firewood and barrels of water. As he circled the workshop, his fingers brushed the copper shards on the bench. The embers in the hearth still blazed as if they’d just been left for the night. Any tools had been locked away, perhaps in that solid blackwood chest in the corner. Grimy hay was strewn across the floor, smelling of earth and oil. Cal shut his eyes and drew a deep breath as the memories began to return in sharp flashes.
Metal grated across stone, making him jump. He turned and came face-to-face with a glowing iron rod pulled fresh from the fire.
‘Who are you? What are you doing in my workshop?’
That voice. Cal remembered that alright. His gaze followed the soot-blackened arm to a gaunt face framed with tangled ebony hair. It had been four years since he’d last seen those soft amber eyes. Tonight, though, they were anything but soft.
‘Answer me, boy.’
Cal flinched away from the intense heat. ‘Jakob, it’s me. Cal. Your son.’
The rod in Jakob’s hand wavered. His stare roamed over Cal’s face and filthy clothes, then he reached out and tugged Cal’s collar down. Cal didn’t try to stop him. When Jakob saw the Arai sundisc and mileskúlos line, he recoiled.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ Cal said.
Jakob’s gaze flicked between Cal and the street. ‘What do you want? Is it Safía? Have you come for her?’
‘No. I’m alone. I’ve left the Arai.’
Jakob sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Truly?’
Cal nodded. ‘Truly.’
For a long minute, Jakob stared at Cal, his chest inflated as if he was holding his breath. Then he flung the rod into a barrel, making the water hiss and steam, and yanked Cal into a fierce hug. Cal’s first instinct was to struggle. He was no longer used to this type of affection. But the warm strength of Jakob’s arms, the smoky smell of his clothes, the scratching of his beard against Cal’s cheek, all these things tapped into the deepest of Cal’s buried memories and he surrendered to them.
‘Gods, boy. When they took you, I...I thought I’d never see you again. I can’t believe you came back. What made you desert?’
‘It was because of a mission on the summer solstice. We went to—’
Jakob thrust Cal back to arm’s length. ‘You took part in the slaughter of those soldiers?’
Cal wished he hadn’t let down his guard. He swallowed and gave a nod.
Jakob released him, horrified. ‘They were Bandála. They were here to help us. To help your people.’
‘You don’t understand. If we hadn’t...if we hadn’t, we would’ve been killed. General Alexander forced us to...’ Cal heard the words in his head, and his mouth went dry.
‘What?’ Jakob demanded. ‘The general forced you to do what?’
‘To...to execute the prisoners.’
Jakob’s eyes widened. ‘You took prisoners? And then executed them?’
‘I– it was them or us. We...I didn’t have a choice.’
With a slow shake of his head, Jakob replied, ‘You always have a choice, Cal.’
The words brought a painful ache to Cal’s heart. They were the words of his childhood, a lesson he’d long since forgotten. ‘Even...?’ he began, and gulped down the lump in his throat. ‘Even if the alternative is death?’
‘Death is far better than what you have become.’
Cal winced.
‘If the Bandála ever find out you had a hand in that massacre, Cal, deserter or not, they will rip you apart.’
‘I know,’ Cal whispered.
Jakob pointed to the street. ‘You have to leave. Now.’
‘Dad, I—’
‘Don’t call me that. Go. I can’t protect you from the Bandála.’
‘I don’t expect you to, but I won’t—’
Jakob picked up an unfinished mace. ‘I said get out!’
Cal stood his ground. ‘I won’t leave without you and Safía. It’s not safe here anymore. The Arai will kill you both.’
Jakob’s mouth fell open. ‘Why? Did you lead them here?’
‘No! I would never do that.’ Cal raked his fingers through his hair. ‘They’ll do it to punish me. Because I deserted. They threaten us with this to keep us loyal. It’s why I had to come back tonight. To warn you.’
Jakob swung the mace onto the bench, embedding the spikes in the wood. ‘Curse you, boy. Curse you!’
He disappeared into the house. Cal drew several ragged breaths, waiting for the pain of those words to dampen, then he crept forward and stepped inside. The room smelled of vegetable soup. He found a flint and steel set on the mantle shelf above the hearth and lit a candle. Beneath the shuttered window stood a battered table. He remembered there had once been four stools. When his mother had died, there were three. Now, only two remained.
Tucked away on a shelf next to the window was a carved wooden box. Cal rested the candle on the table and, with trembling fingers, opened the lid. Inside, he found a pale silk scarf. His mother had worn this for special occasions, wrapped around her shoulders to veil her rough village dresses in elegance.
‘Don’t touch that.’
Cal shut the lid and retreated to the hearth. Jakob stood in a doorway across the room, watching Cal with a wary expression.
‘Sorry,’ Cal mumbled, and clasped his hands behind his back.
‘You can come out now, Safía.’
A girl stepped into view. Her patched grey shift hung askew off her bony shoulders, and her feet were bare. She had black hair, straight as river reeds, and eyes as gold as sunshine that widened at the sight of Cal.
‘Don’t be afraid, Safía. It’s me, Cal. Your brother. Do you remember me?’
She glanced at Jakob then took one tentative step towards Cal, then another and another until she was standing an armspan away.
‘The Arai took you,’ she said. ‘I ran after them, but they were too fast.’ She rubbed away tears.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Saf.’
Twisting her fingers around her sleeves, she asked, ‘Did they...do you have...their mark?’
He nodded.
‘Can I see?’
Gritting his teeth, he pulled his collar down to show her his tattoo. She recoiled with a gasp.
‘I’m here to help you, Saf. Please, believe me. I—’
Jakob stepped forward between them. ‘Stay back. You’re scaring her.’
‘I would never hurt her, Dad. Jakob. Never.’
‘You can make all the promises in the world, Cal, but I don’t know you anymore, and I will not entrust her life to you.’
Cal didn’t rep
ly. He couldn’t. His throat was too thick for words.
Jakob dropped a loaf of sourdough, some cheese, apples and smoked meat into a sack and asked, ‘How long have we got?’
Roan’s warning echoed in Cal’s head: Don’t stop.
‘Not long,’ Cal replied.
‘Safía, put on your boots.’
She vanished through the doorway.
Cal noticed a sword hanging above the mantle shelf. He took it down and tested its balance. A bar of reflected candlelight flickered across the room as he twirled the blade.
Jakob’s stare took on a strange intensity, as if he was struggling to understand what he saw. ‘You were such a gentle child. No wonder I didn’t recognise you.’
Cal turned his back and swallowed with difficulty. ‘Just...get Safía to safety. I’ll cover your tracks. Delay them if necessary.’
Outside, a horse whinnied. Cal lifted his sword and blew out the candle. Nothing happened. Perhaps his instincts had played a cruel trick.
‘Hurry up,’ he muttered. ‘They could be here any minute.’
He heard rustling then the creak of hinges, and through the doorway he saw the outline of wooden houses across the street. Jakob paused for a moment on the threshold, as if mustering the courage to leave the house, and their lives, behind forever.
‘Wait,’ he muttered. He went to the engraved wooden box, drew out the silk scarf, and placed it carefully in his pocket. Then he took Safía’s hand and stepped out into the night.
At that moment, a fist of silhouettes emerged from the shadows, letting the starlight spill over their black masks and drawn swords.
‘Run!’ Cal yelled.
With a horrified howl, Jakob pulled Safía back inside, grabbed a cooking pot, and swung it at the intruders. He was knocked to the ground. Cal yanked Safía behind him and raised his sword. He felt the warmth of her cheek against his shoulder. She was trembling. He slashed at the nearest Arai, who yelped and retreated. Another one came from the side, a third from the back. They wrenched Safía away and kicked Cal’s legs out from under him. A boot on his chest kept him down.
Cal recognised Roan’s quicksilver gaze and hope blazed in him. ‘Captain, please, my sister—’ He faltered as a sword tip pressed into his neck.
‘You led two of the king’s elite guard into a trap and murdered one of them,’ Roan growled. ‘Then you deserted the Arai. You are well aware of the penalty for that crime, Cal.’
‘But you told me—’
Roan stood hard on Cal’s chest, stamping the wind out of him. Then he whipped his sword away and said, ‘Take him outside.’
‘No! Safía! Safía!’
Cal fought, ferocious and desperate, as the Arai dragged him into the street and crushed him down under their weight. He glimpsed during his wild struggle a few people peeking around doorways to watch the commotion but no one dared challenge the Arai. The threatening skeleton at the village gate was the only defence they had against this enemy.
Inside the house, Safía screamed.
‘Roan, stop!’
Cal thrashed till a fist crunched his jaw. In the hazy minutes that followed, he could hear Safía’s cries ripping through the night. Then they ceased altogether, and the absence of sound shredded Cal’s heart.
Someone dragged his head up by his hair. Through the hot saltiness, he saw Roan standing in the doorway, backlit by a fast-spreading fire, and his sword dripping blood. Cold metal rested against Cal’s throat.
‘Wait,’ Roan called. ‘He’s my recruit. My mistake. I’ll do it.’ He hauled Cal to his feet, adding, ‘And I’ll make sure there’s not a scrap left of him.’
Roan steered Cal away from the spectators and into the bush. Cal didn’t resist. He could barely even breathe past the choking shock. It seemed an hour had passed before Roan released him. He slumped to his knees, the words of an ancient Highlander prayer hovering on his trembling lips. He stared out across the midnight valley and the rope of stars above and waited for death.
‘I told you not to stop, Cal,’ Roan said, his voice ragged. ‘Damn it, you shouldn’t have stopped!’
Cal wondered whether Roan would run him through or push him over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. He was defeated.
‘Just get on with it,’ he whispered. ‘Just end it. Please.’
Roan shifted his weight and gazed at Cal with something like determination. ‘Things are about to change. Soon, a new sun will rise, a dark sun that will chase away all shadows.’
Cal looked to the east, but there wasn’t even a hint of dawn on the horizon.
‘Leave the Highlands, Cal, and this time don’t stop.’
He felt a hand on the back of his neck. Before his numbed mind could react, a sharp pressure beneath his jaw turned the world black.
Chapter 9: The Auremos merchant
It was midday when Nick trudged back to the camp, unanswered questions and unfinished plans percolating in his mind. The sun was high overhead, baking the bush till it crackled and spat in the heat. When he heard a horse whinny, he stopped and stared. There it was, brown and twitching and hitched to a tree. Next to it stood a wagon draped with an array of dazzling silk. A pale, wiry man with grimy hair studied Jinx with interest.
Nick retreated behind an ironbark.
‘Come look at my silks, darling,’ the man said. ‘They’re top quality. And they’d go nice on a pretty little thing like you.’
Jinx had swapped her trousers and singlet for a long pink sarong that in Nick’s opinion made her look like a musk stick.
‘These treasures have come all the way from Auremos. Real luxurious they are, with the finest thread you’ll ever run your fingers over.’ The man spoke Korelian, but his accent was thick, and some of the words he used were hard for Nick to understand.
‘Maybe I’ll get one next time I’m in the city,’ Jinx said.
‘You do that. The name’s Felix. I’m well-known in Auremos.’
Nick leaned further around the ironbark. The words ‘city’ and ‘Auremos’ had caught his interest, but before he could venture out, a small crowd gathered around Felix and his shimmering material. Everyone else was dressed in bright colours like Jinx. It was as if they’d all woken up this morning and decided to have a day off from being earth-powdered warriors.
‘Now, now. Don’t shove,’ Felix said as several people gathered around the fabrics. ‘Nah, I’m awful sorry, but I can’t be taking no currency except coinage in exchange for my goods.’
When Jinx translated this, a few people muttered to one another and ambled away, taking their reed baskets and seedpod necklaces with them. Nick frowned. Where were the spears and hunting knives? Where were the bows and arrows?
‘Such a shame,’ Felix said to Jinx. ‘I don’t often come out westaways, but I stumbled upon this here track so thought I’d see where it led. Never knew there was a village here.’ He grinned, displaying an array of blackened teeth. ‘I guess coinage doesn’t make it out this far, eh, love?’
Jinx just shrugged.
Scratching behind his ear, Nick sat back on his haunches. He had to somehow grab that horse. Xanthe had said the nearest town was a day’s ride away. The city must be even farther. Maybe there he’d find the answers he was searching for.
When he peeked around the tree again, Jinx was gone. So was Felix. Nick strolled over to the horse and let it nuzzle his hand to get used to his scent then he stroked its mane and flanks, all the while checking the stirrups, reins and saddle with his eyes. The equipment was old-fashioned but looked pretty decent. He checked a couple of rucksacks in the wagon, searching for riding clothes that might fit him. One was full of copper bangles, another was packed with food. He was about to open a third when a muffled squeal made him jump. He spun around, anticipating accusations of theft to bludgeon his ears. No one was there. He heard another squeal, this time fainter. He scanned the area. Through the trees, he saw Felix wrestling with some sort of animal. Felix growled something unintell
igible. Then Nick saw a flash of pink and heard a girl’s shriek.
Nick abandoned the rucksacks and bolted. Felix had one arm clasped around Jinx’s waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. This was all Nick had time to register before he slammed a fist into Felix’s face. Jinx broke free and scrambled away.
Felix regained his balance and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his gaze flicking from Jinx to Nick. ‘She your sister, eh?’
Nick didn’t respond. He was still deciding whether to pulverise Felix or leave it to the warriors.
Felix seemed to interpret Nick’s silence for uncertainty, because he straightened and said, ‘You look hatched from the one brood. You half-breeds are all alike. Same mother, different fathers.’
Jinx charged. Nick saw a flash of metal. He caught Jinx’s dress, yanking her back as a knife filled his vision.
‘Well, well, well,’ Felix said, tapping the point of his knife to Nick’s copper necklace. ‘I knew there was something different about this here village. Why ain’t this secret little Bandála outpost marked on any Yándemar maps?’
Nick frowned. Bandála outpost? The red-powdered warriors were not even close to his idea of resistance fighters. And what did his dad’s copper necklace have to do with the Bandála?
Felix looked him up and down and added, ‘By the appearance of things but, you ain’t nothing special. Just a regular litter of useless savages. Especially you, runt.’
Then he spat. Spat right onto Nick’s cheek. The day became brighter as adrenalin coursed through Nick’s limbs. Felix had just called him a savage. A savage. Fury scorched Nick like an iron brand. With a flash, the blade spun away. A sharp jab shattered Felix’s nose. A right hook knocked him out cold.
‘Thanks, Nick,’ Jinx said. Leaves were tangled in her hair and her bottom lip was swollen.
‘Are you okay?’
She drew a shuddering breath but nodded. Nick took his shirt off and used it to wipe the spit from his face, then he and Jinx each hefted one of Felix’s legs up and lugged him towards the camp. As they passed the bonfire, people gaped. One of the warriors growled something and pointed at the unconscious Felix then at Nick’s bare chest.
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