by Foz Meadows
They parted – Trishka one way, Gwen the other.
She went to Jeiden first. The boy woke easily, eyes wide in the darkness, and hurried off almost before Gwen had finished explaining the need. Zech, though, famously slept like the dead; rather than wasting time, Gwen simply pinched her nose shut until she came to, gasping indignantly. Still, she sobered quickly enough when told about the troops and went to join Jeiden, slipping down the hall like a dappled shadow. Next came Matu, who swore furiously under his breath, hauled on a tunic and promised to help Yena get her supplies out to the pack animals; and then, finally, Pix, who reacted – typically, yet unnervingly – with her trademark vicious calm.
“What do we do about Viya?” she asked, binding her marriage-braids back in a tail. “Maybe she set this up somehow. Leoden’s always loved twisted plots – that pustule has a brain like a rat’s maze.”
“He couldn’t have known that Zech and Jeiden would bring her here.” Yet even as she said it, Gwen felt an unpleasant stirring of doubt. The last time she and Pix had underestimated Leoden, thousands of people had died. Better to play it safe, at least until they were out of Karavos. Assuming we even make it that far. She shook her head, frustrated. “Even so. There’s a jar of moonsleep in Yasha’s chambers. Knock her out with that, then have Matu tie her to one of the horses – sitting stance, though, not slung sideways like a carcass.” She’d been carried once that way herself, and still had faint scars on her arms and hips to prove it.
Pix eyed her coolly. “And is Yasha awake?”
“Not yet,” Gwen admitted. “I was leaving her for last.”
“Coward.”
“You say that like it’s an insult.”
“It should be.” Pix made a face. “Fine. I’ll wake her once our pet Cuivexa’s safely trussed and bound. Always best to greet her with good news – that little wretch ground so much salt into her godslapped pride, I’m surprised they both survived it.”
Gwen snorted. By now, she gauged, most people were awake: the compound was tense with whispers and muffled movement. Why now? she wondered. Leoden had known where Yasha was for years, but had never attacked like this, so satisfied with the presumed impotence of his adversaries that it was easier just to let them be. He’d briefly come after her and Pix in the aftermath of his betrayal, but he’d never bothered the rest of their allies. Maybe Pix was right; maybe it was down to Viya. But then she remembered the arakoi: sniffing around the warehouse, keeping watch at the gates. Was it arrogance to think he was after her? Not arrogance, she cautioned herself. Prudence. But even so, something had changed beyond the mere fact of her return to Kena. Leoden had a plan, and until she knew properly what it was – or better yet, was in a position to stop it – Gwen could assume nothing.
“My thanks,” she said to Pix. “I doubt she’d welcome the sight of me right now under any circumstances, good or bad.”
“You owe me.” Her knife-belt now buckled, Pix pulled on a fingerless pair of fighter’s gloves, the padded leather studded with sharp metal. Gwen raised a brow at her armoury. “Planning ahead?”
Pix’s smile was sharp as winter. “Always.”
As they parted ways, Gwen experienced the sudden, nagging sensation that she’d forgotten something. The reason struck her a moment later: Saffron. She bit her lip to keep from swearing, abruptly furious at herself for having let the girl slip so thoroughly out of mind. If I’m not responsible for her, no one is. Irritation and sympathy flashed through her in equal measure: irritation that Saffron had followed her through the worlds; sympathy because she of all people knew how irrevocable a choice it was, no matter how thoughtlessly made. Well, at least Pix has Yasha in hand, Gwen thought wryly, and walked to the white girl’s room. Saffron slept curled up, knees to chest with an elbow crooked under her head. Her lips moved soundlessly – she was dream-talking, Gwen assumed – yet when she reached out and touched her shoulder, her eyes snapped open instantly, as though she’d been only dozing. “Smoke and fire,” Saffron whispered. “Everything burned. Didn’t it?”
Gwen gaped at her, momentarily stunned. Maybe it was a coincidence, but just at that moment, it didn’t feel like one. “Not yet,” she found herself answering. “But that’s why we have to go. Leoden is coming.”
Saffron sat up, her mouth an O of surprise. “But I thought – he said to tell you…” She frowned, her words trailing off like the tail-end of clouds. “I don’t remember.”
“It was only a dream,” said Gwen, because there was no space in which to consider otherwise. “Come on. There’s not much time.”
To her credit, the girl dressed quickly and quietly, pulling on the Vekshi clothes she’d been given the day before. She reached for her school shoes too, but stopped.” I don’t have any socks,” she said. “They went to the wash.”
“Go without?” Gwen suggested, trying not to sound impatient. The imminent threat of danger itched in her skin.
Saffron shook her head. “I’ll just go barefoot. Those shoes give me blisters, anyway.”
Sighing with suppressed relief, Gwen nodded and motioned Saffron out. The girl obeyed without another word, and together they navigated their way through the compound and out to the dimly lit courtyard, where – thank the Many! – two separate clusters of people and beasts had gathered. One, the largest, was under Sashi’s supervision. Comprised mostly of Vekshi expatriates and their children, the group waited nervously by the main gates, mounted on roas and with plenty of staffs in evidence. Between the two groups stood Trishka. Supported by Yena, she swayed within her magic, eyes closed. And then, finally, there was their own small party: Pix, Matu and Yasha, all on horseback; Viya strapped firmly to the same roa she’d ridden in on, its reins tied to Pix’s saddle; Zech scuttling about in response to Yasha’s whispered commands; and Jeiden standing by, his hands full to brimming with the reins of six more horses and two supply-laden roas.
“What’s wrong with Viya?” Saffron asked nervously. “Why’s she tied down?”
“Do you trust me enough to believe it’s for a good reason?” Gwen asked.
“I guess,” said Saffron, though she obviously wasn’t happy about it.
“Good.” Gwen sighed, smoothing a hand over her flyaway hair. Braiding would have been convenient, but braids had meaning in Kena, and though her marriage entitled her to certain convenient styles (she winged a silent prayer of apology to Jhesa and Naku) their usage would have betrayed her privacy. “I’ll explain later. Until then–”
“They’re coming,” Trishka said, loudly enough to cut through the chatter. Everyone fell silent. “We need to leave. Now.”
Gwen hissed in surprise, urging Saffron to go and mount up – “If you need any help, ask Zech!” – before hurrying over to Trishka.
Though strong, Yena was visibly struggling to keep her mother standing. Slinging an arm round her friend’s shoulder, Gwen took Trishka’s weight onto herself. Yena didn’t need to be told anything; she headed straight for the horses, trusting Gwen to see that her mother did likewise.
“You’ve done enough,” Gwen chided, frightened by Trishka’s obvious exhaustion. “Come on, we need to get you mounted.”
Stumbling, they made their way to the others. Trishka was panting by the time she’d pulled herself into the saddle, but there was a glint in her eye that Gwen didn’t like.“You’re planning something,” she accused.
Rather than answer, Trishka turned and rode to Sashi’s side. Gwen mounted and followed, her sense of foreboding now so strong that the hairs on her arms stood up. Beyond the compound walls, she fancied she could hear the soldiers forming up, then shivered with the realisation that it was no fancy. Leoden’s men were here, their presence betrayed by the noise of strange roas, the tramp of feet and the flicker of torchlight under the gates. Were they close enough to know their quarry was awake and ready, preparing to flee? Gwen hoped not, but all too soon, she’d know the answer for sure.
“We’ll ride through first, like you told us – half the fighte
rs will engage, while the rest split off and take the children to safety,” Sashi said. She looked ageless to Gwen in that moment, both a woman grown and far too young to be facing any sort of battle. By Vekshi reckoning, Sashi and Yena were her nieces, and the thought of either of them being in danger almost overwhelmed her. But then Sashi said, “We’ll buy you the time,” and all her fearful attention refocused on Trishka.
“You can’t!” she hissed. “The compound is worn thin enough as a portal point. The risk–”
“There’s no other way.” Trishka looked at her steadily. “You know I’m right.”
“We could cut through them, head for the city gates–”
“We can’t.” She was calm, implacable, though already a ragged note had crept into her breathing. “You know we can’t, Gwen.” She reached out to Sashi, briefly touching her daughter’s face. “Zejhasa,” she murmured. “Still, you have my heart.”
Sashi grabbed her mother’s fingers and kissed the tips. “I plan to be worthy of it.”
And with that, each of them pulled away. Sashi turned to face her charges, while Trishka wheeled her mare around, leaving Gwen no choice but to follow.
“You can’t,” she repeated – pleading this time, even though she knew it was pointless. Trishka was right; there was no other way. “At least try t–”
A burning arrow sailed over the wall, streaking through the night like a tiny star. Gwen watched its trajectory with a lump in her throat. It struck the wooden roof. The fire spread with a cackling crackle, flaring along the wood; and then there were more lit arrows, and vials of oil flung in their wake to help feed the blaze. The courtyard was red-lit. Smoke began to pour from the roof, and the whooshing roar of fire filled the air.
“Now!” Sashi yelled, and on her order the gates were flung outwards, revealing a startled pack of soldiers who, by their faces, clearly hadn’t expected any resistance. Shouting in unison, the Vekshi women charged forwards, scything their staves down and across from the backs of their roas, knocking the men to the ground. The lead fighters held firm in a wedge, keeping the soldiers occupied while Sashi led the rest of the riders out and away, bulling through the remaining men and into the city night. But the Vekshi fighters didn’t follow, instead pulling back to fill the gates: a human blockade between Leoden’s men and Gwen’s remaining party. A shout from outside – more arrows began to fall, but unlike the first few, these were unlit and aimed at skewering anyone still in the courtyard. Matu’s mount reared and screamed in fright as an arrow grazed its flank.
“We need to go!” he yelled, fighting to keep the beast under control.
And then Trishka began to glow, a pink-tinged halo forming around her head and upraised arms. She’d dropped her reins, and Gwen, who was closest, swore and grabbed them, pulling them over the unhappy mare’s head. Sweat beaded on Trishka’s skin; her eyes rolled back in their sockets. The light around her expanded, crackling with lightning, all her strength concentrated on this single use of the jahudemet. As fire ripped through the compound roof and the clash of fighting came from the gates, Trishka cried out – half pleasure, half pain – and ripped a hole in the world.
The gateway tore itself into existence with a whine like the world’s largest mosquito: a portal linking not different realities, but two different parts of Kena. Though initially little larger than a melon, it rapidly grew in size, arising open until it stood tall and broad enough to accommodate a horse or roa and rider. The edges roped and wobbled; Trishka couldn’t hold it for long.
“Ride through!” Gwen bellowed, waving at the others – they hesitated, clearly stunned by the sight, and only then did she realise that Trishka had kept this part of her plan a secret from all but her and Sashi. “Through, through, through!”
And for a miracle, they obeyed; even Yasha, whose face was pale and furious in the firelight. Gwen watched them pass the gateway, and noted too the fierce pride in Yena’s eyes, the undisguised awe in Saffron’s. Only once everyone else was through did she move, still leading her friend’s horse. But as the mare surged forward, Trishka gasped and dropped her arms. Her trance was broken, the magic gone. The portal began to telescope shut, shrivelling as they approached. Terror took Gwen. If they didn’t make it all the way through; if the gate collapsed while they were still crossing–They reached the portal. Heart thundering wildly, salt on her cheeks, arrows flying past and the smoke from the compound burning her lungs, Gwen closed her eyes, skin stinging as the collapsing magic burned her flesh, and prayed.
* * *
They emerged into darkness, a nothing so deep and featureless that for a dizzying moment, Zech thought the portal had gone horribly wrong, trapping them all in the black between the stars. But then she looked up and saw that the greater moon, Kei, was still full and bright beside its smaller twin, Mei, as they turned through their curious orbits. All around them shone constellations she knew by heart: the Trickster, the Lovers, the Man-and-Mare. They were still in Kena! Only then did the darkness make sense: the fire had left her night-blind.Around her seethed a chaos of shouting and snorting horses, the softer krees of the roas an eerie counterpoint. Her gelding pranced beneath her; Zech reined him back, squinting to make out the crest of his neck, the shape of his ears, and beyond that… what? Everyone was talking at once; there was no point adding to the confusion.
“Light, light!” Yasha demanded. “Someone make light!”
Fire bloomed to Zech’s left, momentarily dazzling her – it was Yena, holding a lit torch. Her face beneath it glowed like hot gold, while everyone else was limned in bronze and shadow. They all stood in a disorganised cluster, horses and roas facing every which way as their riders, unable to see where they were and therefore unwilling to risk separation, swivelled in saddles to stare at those around them.
“Quiet!” Yasha bellowed. Her voice cut through the shouting, and the group fell silent. “That’s better. Yena, do a headcount – there ought to be ten of us.”
A moment of tension while Yena counted; then she called the all-clear. No one was unaccounted for. Everyone had made it.
“Good,” said Yasha, and Zech was surprised to hear a note of relief in her usually steady voice. “Now, where’s my fire-blessed fool of a daughter? Trishka! Where in the world have you brought us?”
But it was Gwen who answered, her tone made sharp by worry. “She’s unconscious, Yasha,” she snapped. “I think the gateway burned her. Bring that light over here!” This last to Yena, who blanched and hurried to obey.
Fear fluttered in Zech’s stomach like a swallowed moth. Her mother – her bloodmother, Kenans would say – had given her up at birth to a woman who had in turn given her to Yasha when she was two years old, so long ago now that Zech had no memory of it. Yasha had never been coy about the reason why: it was because of her skin, her shasuyakesani markings too obviously a bad omen. Her mother was simply gone, and in her place, despite Yasha’s nominal guardianship, had been Trishka. Zech knew about Trishka’s nameless, strength-draining affliction; how it punished her use of the jahudemet. And she knew, too, that under normal circumstances, Trishka ought still to have been recovering from the portal that summoned Safi and Gwen. To make another major gateway so soon afterwards must have taken extraordinary strength of will, to say nothing of courage – and now she was paying the price.
Clutching her horse’s reins, Zech watched as Yena pushed through to Gwen’s side, wincing to see the angry, cauterised burn that ran from Trishka’s right temple down to the underside of her jaw. Her horse had been burned too, though of course no one else was concerned about that now; the poor animal was burnt from behind its right ear to midway down its neck, at which point the scarring transferred itself to Trishka. The horse was trembling, its breath a rasping pant; the gate had collapsed on both of them, but without proper light or access to a healer, there wasn’t much anyone could do to alleviate their pain. At least Trishka had the benefit of being unconscious, though as Gwen dismounted and tried ineffectually to wake her friend, Z
ech had a hard time seeing it that way.
“Well!” said Yasha. This time, the shake in her voice was unmistakable. “We still need to know where we are. If it’s within a night’s ride of Karavos, we need to get out of Leoden’s reach.”
As the others began to murmur in answer, Zech felt a jolt go through her. The year before, one of Yasha’s guests at the compound had taught her how to find her way by the stars, but she needed an astrolabe to do so properly. A strange frustration welled in her. She wanted to help – there had to be a way she could help…
“We’re on the Envas stretch of the North Road,” Jeiden said quietly. Though his voice was soft, every adult stopped speaking and stared at him. “I remember it from when Matu and I passed through. That tree over there–” he pointed at a forked shape Zech could barely make out in the darkness, “–reminded me of a snake’s tongue. We had lunch beside it.”
“Gods in heaven,” Matu murmured. “So we did!”
“We’re four days’ ride from Karavos,” Jeiden went on. “Almost halfway to the border. They’ll never catch us now.”
“You’re sure about this, boy?” Yasha growled.
Jeiden straightened in his saddle. “I am.”
The matriarch let out a breath. “Good then.” After a pause, she added, “Well remembered.”
Before their conversation in the stables, Zech would have felt intensely jealous of Jeiden for this – and if she was honest, she still was, a little. Of all the luck, landing right by a place he’s been before! But now she could hear how grudgingly Yasha praised him, when the same information from her or Yena would have earned them more and warmer words. Worse, Jeiden knew it; he’d slumped once the matriarch’s gaze was elsewhere, and though Matu had reached out a hand to comfort him, she could tell that the slight still hurt.
“We’ll rest here for the night then,” Yasha declared. “It won’t be comfortable, but we’ll cope, and in the morning, we can–” her eyes slid to Trishka, “–better assess our position.”