Lightning Tracks

by A. A. Kinsela

  ‘That roast duck last night was fantastic. Best I’ve ever had, I reckon. You’re an amazing cook.’

  He caught the hint of a smile before she bent her head.

  ‘I haven’t seen anyone else with you. Do you work here by yourself?’

  She nodded once but still didn’t meet his eye.

  ‘It must be tough carrying stuff up and down these stairs every day. I guess you get used to it after a while.’

  When they reached the top landing, Nick kicked the door open and asked, ‘Where do you want this load?’

  She pointed to Jinx’s room and Nick dumped the basket on Jinx’s bedroom floor.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing?’

  Nick turned to find Jinx in the doorway, hands on hips and face tight with outrage.

  ‘You can’t come in here. I have a strict no entry rule for gumbrains.’

  ‘I was helping Amaránta lug your washing upstairs. I think that overrides any trespassing laws.’

  She glanced at the basket. ‘Oh. That’s okay then. You can leave now.’

  ‘Gladly.’

  He went to the kitchen, scooped some water out of the bucket by the fireplace, and slurped it up, careful not to drip any into Xanthe’s precious bowls of powder. He was famished from the mountain run, so made a gigantic sandwich of cheese, tomato and cured meat, which he ate on his bed. He took out the song gate map and found Blackrock Mountain then stared out the window at the real mountain, wondering how long it would take to get to the song gate from here. A few hours at least, he reckoned. The beacon tower guards had a panoramic view of everything within twenty or thirty kilometres of the city, and sneaking past them, especially if they had eyesight as good as Nick’s, might prove difficult.

  Did he really want to go home though? He stared at the blue sky, waiting for an answer, but none came.

  Chapter 24: The test

  Cal stood outside the council chamber meeting room, his dread rising. Why had Rayámina wanted to see him? He knew the rules were different for him and Artemis because of their connections with Roan and the solstice massacre. Usually, Arai deserters were made known to the Bandála soldiers during an initiation ceremony shortly after arrival in Auremos. Cal and Artemis, however, had been here for weeks and the only people who knew about them so far were Rayámina, Xanthe, Valerius and Kráytos. And, of course, Julian.

  Cal didn’t think he’d done anything particularly bad this morning. He’d punched Miles, who deserved worse, but surely that wasn’t serious enough for anything more than a stern reprimand. Was it?

  He waited for a pair of councillors to amble past, who were debating whether the chamber chairs should be reupholstered in green or blue fabric, then he knocked on the door. Rayámina appeared and beckoned, and when Cal stepped inside, he saw Julian standing at the table with a dusty Arai uniform spread before him. He froze.

  ‘I have a job for you, Cal,’ Rayámina said. ‘A patrol found this kit stashed in an abandoned building last night. I’d like you to examine it and see if you can profile its owner. I’ve informed Commander Julian of your expertise. He will supervise you and report your findings to me.’

  Cal looked at Rayámina in alarm. ‘Sir, surely you’ve got other people with more experience in profiling than me.’

  ‘I do. And they’ve already examined the uniform. But Commander Julian has suggested we test you on the accuracy of your assessment. I’m curious to know how you go.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Rayámina strode out of the room, leaving Cal alone with Julian. The commander sat down, dipped a quill into an inkpot, and scribbled something onto some parchment.

  ‘Man or woman?’ Julian asked.

  Cal leant over the table and studied the uniform. ‘Woman,’ he replied.

  ‘Evidence?’

  ‘The tapering at the waist and the cut of the jacket.’

  ‘Height?’

  Cal made a guess at the length of the uniform and said, ‘A bit over five feet.’

  ‘Build?’

  ‘Slim.’

  ‘Right or left handed?’

  After checking the cuffs of both sleeves, Cal replied, ‘Left.’

  ‘Evidence?’

  ‘Scrape wear on the right inside forearm suggests frequent contact with a bow string, meaning the archer was using the left hand to draw.’

  ‘Hair colour?’

  Cal searched the uniform and found a single strand caught in a button hole. He drew it out then stared at Julian, who’d stopped writing to watch. Cal knew now that he was profiling Artemis.

  ‘Brown,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the commander.

  Had Julian set up this test to remind Cal of his oath and the consequences for breaking it? Or, worse, was Rayámina perhaps testing Cal’s loyalty?

  ‘Long hair or short?’ Julian asked.

  ‘Long.’

  ‘Age of the suspect?’

  ‘Sixteen.’

  Julian smiled and murmured, ‘Impossible to ascertain age from a single strand of hair, Cal. You should know that.’

  He took the hair from Cal and dropped it into the fireplace, destroying the evidence. The profiling task was a warning, a reminder that Julian had the power and the means to carry out his threat. Cal breathed deeply, containing the urge to leap over the table and strangle the commander with his bare hands.

  Julian sat back down, reading aloud as he wrote. ‘Hair colour: blonde. Length: short. Age: unknown.’ He folded the parchment. ‘I’ll pass your assessment on to Rayámina. I’m sure he’ll be pleased that it matches the two from the Bandála experts.’

  Cal gave a stiff salute and turned to leave.

  ‘I see Roan trained you well,’ Julian said.

  Hot anger surged through Cal’s veins. Roan had trained Cal better than Julian knew, and so Cal forced himself to merely reply with an acquiescing nod.

  Chapter 25: Smoke

  A rap on Nick’s open bedroom door made him jump.

  ‘Hey, gumbrain. I’m making lunch. You want any?’

  He rolled off his bed. ‘Not with you, Jinx,’ he replied, shutting the door in her face.

  ‘Just so you know,’ she called from the hallway, ‘I’m having fresh bellberries. With goat’s cheese. And it’s going to be the most delicious meal I’ve had in my whole life. But only because you’re not there.’

  ‘Have fun with that,’ Nick said to himself. He spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding Jinx, lying on the roof and dozing in the sun, or else watching the Market Square crowds below and laughing at the antics of a pair of acrobatic street performers. He read some of the Yándi Mythos book, but found most of the stories were already familiar. They were the stories Mía had told him as a child.

  Around dinnertime, he heard David’s voice drifting through the trapdoor, and his mood darkened. When he went downstairs, he found David sitting at the kitchen table, so he went straight to his room without saying a word.

  ‘Nick?’ David called.

  Sticking his head around his door, Nick grumbled, ‘Yeah?’

  David gestured to a chair. ‘Sit down. We need to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Just sit down, will you?’

  Nick scuffed into the kitchen and slumped onto a chair.

  ‘How was your run?’ David asked.

  Crossing his arms, Nick snapped, ‘It was loads of fun, thanks very much.’

  ‘You’re angry that Cal got in trouble.’

  ‘Yeah. And Miles didn’t. You saw him, David. He was going to smash Cal, but you dished out the punishment like it was all Cal’s fault. And then you punished me for saying so! How is that fair?’

  ‘I know Miles started it. I’ve spoken to him. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve spoken to him. Wonderful. I’m sure that’ll make Cal feel heaps better.’

  David leaned forward. ‘You have to understand something, Nick. In here, in this apartment, I can be David. But out there, I’m Rayámina, leader of the Bandála. I
have a responsibility to my soldiers to maintain control and discipline, and that extends to everyone, including Cal, and including you.’

  Nick jiggled his knee, wishing he’d stayed on the roof.

  ‘You have a responsibility too,’ David said. ‘When you’re out on the training field, you have to behave like a greyskin. You didn’t do a good job of that today.’

  ‘And Cal? What’s his responsibility?’

  David drew a deep breath and replied, ‘I haven’t decided that yet. I still need to figure out if he’s nallindéra or not.’

  ‘A lightning walker? But he’s not Yándi.’

  David cocked his head in surprise and looked as if he was about to ask Nick how he knew this, but instead he said, ‘You’re right. Nallindéra does mean lightning walker, but it can also mean blood brother. Kin. A bond stronger even than family.’

  ‘Then I reckon he’s nallindéra.’

  David pursed his lips. ‘There’s more to Cal than you realise, Nick. Nallindéra follow a lightning track, a path that appears briefly and in a flash, one that only they can see and that vanishes behind them with each step. Every nallindéra gains different skills and knowledge on their journey, but everyone who walks the path is expected to use what they learn to benefit their people. All Bandála are nallindéra because we walk the same path.’

  ‘What skills does Cal have?’

  The question turned David’s expression dark. ‘A very particular set.’

  ‘You don’t trust him, do you?’

  ‘He’s got a long way to go to prove himself, and I’m not sure yet whether his purpose aligns with ours. The Bandála’s goal has always been to protect our people and our land from the Arai.’

  ‘And from the king?’

  David nodded. ‘And from the king.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t want anyone to know who I am? You’re afraid the Bandála will hate me because they’ll think I’m like Thanos?’

  ‘You’re nothing like Thanos,’ David said sharply. For a while, he was quiet, staring hard at Nick. Then he added, ‘It’s still safer for you to blend in. At least for now. I don’t think the Bandála are ready for the truth just yet.’

  Nick thought about what Kráytos had said a while ago about respect, that it wasn’t a birthright.

  ‘Am I nallindéra?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course you are. You’ve even got a Yándi name.’

  Nick had forgotten that Kári was a Yándi name. ‘What does it mean?’ he asked.

  ‘Kári? It means smoke.’

  ‘Smoke? You called me smoke?’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea. The Yándi like to give things meaning.’

  ‘I’m not a thing. And smoke is just smoke. It’s nothing but coloured air that stings your eyes.’

  David smiled. ‘It’s much more than that, Nick. Smoke is very important to Yándi culture. It can serve as a warning for a bushfire. It can direct you to a campsite. It guides your spirit to the stars after you die. And if it’s strong enough, smoke can block out the sun.’

  The words sent a chill down Nick’s spine. He didn’t like the sound of that last interpretation. ‘You said you’re not sure whether Cal’s purpose is the same as the Bandála’s. What about mine?’

  David frowned. ‘Yours?’

  ‘Yes. My purpose.’

  ‘Your purpose? But yours is to—’ He broke off, staring, and Nick saw understanding register in his gaze. ‘Where do you want your path to lead?’

  Nick didn’t reply at first. As far as he could tell, he had two clear choices. The first was to join the Bandála, which was the most logical since he was already in Auremos. But that would mean being a soldier for the rest of his life, and if he wasn’t killed in battle, he’d die of boredom, or maybe from running up too many mountains.

  The second choice was to go back to Buckadgery Creek. He had the map and knew how to close the song gate after he was through. But the thought of returning to that place alone, of seeing his house again, smelling the garden, sitting in the kitchen and being in all those other familiar places associated with Mía brought a lump to his throat. He could never go back there. It would be far too painful.

  There was a third option, but it scared him so much he didn’t even want to think about it.

  ‘You’re Yándi, Nick,’ David said. ‘You’re nallindéra. You belong with us.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple. Nallindéra is about respect. Kráytos told me that respect has to be earned. It’s not a birthright. You say I’m nallindéra, but I’m not sure I am yet, or could ever be.’

  ‘You’re missing the point. You belong with the Bandála because you represent everything we’ve worked for and—’

  ‘No, you’re missing the point. I don’t represent anything. I’m not an idea, or a thing. I’m a person. And I’m not just Yándi. I’m Korelian too. I won’t give that part of me up unless I know for sure that I don’t want it in my life.’

  David’s breath hissed through his teeth.

  ‘Why does it matter if I join the Bandála or not? We all want the same thing. To stop the Arai.’

  David folded his arms across his chest. ‘How do you plan to achieve that? Are you going to challenge Thanos?’

  ‘If it means I can get rid of the Arai for good, then yeah. I will.’

  Nick could hardly believe he’d just said that. He hadn’t thought through the implications of this third option yet, and couldn’t imagine what it would take to achieve this. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Defeating the Arai in a war was one way of getting rid of them. But what if he could get on the inside and disband them without anyone having to fight? It might just be possible if he had help. The idea sank its talons into his mind.

  He drew a deep breath and said, ‘You marked me with the Arai tattoo. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t think I could do it.’

  David regarded Nick as if seeing him for the first time. ‘You’re right. It was what I first had in mind for you. But I never doubted you could do it. I just thought you didn’t want the responsibility.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘You look so much like Jónatan that I sometimes forget you’re not him. I have to keep reminding myself that there’s a whole lot more of your mother in you than your dad.’

  ‘Wh-what?’ Nick stammered. ‘But I always thought...I mean, you’ve never said anything like that before.’

  He paused for a second, then asked a question he’d been wanting to for a long time.

  ‘Is that what you and Mía argued about the day you left?’

  David’s jaw tightened. ‘In a way. She was...angry. Because I gave you that tattoo.’

  ‘Yeah. I gathered that much. Why didn’t she want you to give it to me?’

  ‘She said...she said I had no right to influence you that way. She said you had to be allowed to choose for yourself.’ He sighed. ‘She was right, you know.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Nick said. ‘She usually was.’ He hugged his chest and asked, ‘What would she have wanted me to do?’

  ‘I can’t answer that, Nick. But I think if she was here, she’d have supported you no matter what choice you made.’ David rubbed his eyes, as if he was suddenly exhausted. ‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’

  Nick gave a firm nod. ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Then you’ll need help. The Bandála will back you. I’ll make sure of that. First, though, you’ll have to let everyone know who you are.’

  ‘They won’t put my head on a spike, will they?’

  ‘I won’t let them do that. But you’ll need to be initiated.’

  ‘Will it hurt?’

  David chuckled. ‘Initiation? No. You should probably get a bit more combat practice in first, though, since Kráytos will be the one to decide when you’re ready.’

  The fire spat out a handful of sparks. Finally, Nick said, ‘Alright. I’ll join.’

  Chapter 26: Blackmail

  Cal wandered home from his afternoon shift at the
northern wall and gazed across the mountains that reared up behind the eastern battlements. Torches were being lit along the city wall, dotting the sandstone watchtowers like beads of golden blood on pricked skin. Storm clouds gathered above, a solid mass of churning grey and purple, and just as Cal reached the hilltop where the ancient sun temple stood, the first cool smatterings of rain tapped his head. In the surrounding streets, people leaned out of windows and snatched stiff laundry off washing lines. Customers at the little alley cafes dragged their stools inside. The street merchants slammed lids on spice barrels and threw oilcloths over ropes of dyed silk. The bright colours of the city retreated from the oncoming storm until all that remained were the sandy buildings, the faded watchtower flags, and the smoky green mountains beyond.

  As Cal jogged through the twisting lanes of the eastern quarter, he became aware of someone following him. After his run-in with Julian and the Arai at the old governor’s house three weeks ago, Cal had made sure they didn’t get the opportunity to corner him again, and his vigilance had paid off. Or so he thought.

  He dashed up a narrow laneway then took a few random turns, darting through the alleys with silent, methodical footsteps. He doubled back twice, waiting in doorways to check for his tail. When he was sure he was alone, he continued at a quick but cautious pace.

  He could see the crumbling rooftop of his apartment block two streets away, with candlelight spilling from a top floor window. Artemis would be making a start on their usual dinner of bread and herbs. Cal craved fresh vegetables and meat, but their rations usually didn’t allow for anything more than the bare basics.

  A blow caught him on the back of the head. Strong hands snatched his arms, and metal knuckle guards crunched his sides, paralysing him with pain. A hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his agonised cry as he was hauled off the street. Someone kicked a door shut, and Cal heard a rusty bolt grind into its bracket.

  Panic seized him and he lashed out. His boot connected with a stomach. He freed one arm and smashed an elbow into a face. He got several more hits in, but after a pounding to his skull, and with darkness all around, he could barely see. They pummelled him with knees and boots and fists till he collapsed and lay gasping on the stones.