The Last Larnaeradee

by Shelley Cass

  Kiana lay in the middle of a mass of chaotic blankets and sheets, asleep. But not just dreaming.

  Her face was contorted with anguish and her hands grasped her head as if she was trying to escape whatever she was dreaming about.

  Dalin took a moment to absorb what he was seeing, but then quickly crossed to lean over the bed, putting a hand on her shoulder as I stepped nearer too.

  Kiana’s blazing blue eyes flashed open at once, and Dalin and I both took a hasty step back, nearly bowled over by the force of her gaze.

  Her hand shot under the pillow at her head, withdrawing a dagger. Quick as lightning she had sprung up and lunged toward Dalin, dagger and hate filled eyes trained on him.

  His reflexes took over and he caught her wrist, stopping the dagger’s journey toward his heart. But the force of her lunge sent them both to the floor and she continued trying to push against his hold on her wrist to drive the blade toward his chest.

  Her fierce blue eyes raged at him, but she was not truly awake.

  “I was weak when last we met!” she hissed at him. “Now I am strong.” The dagger moved closer to Dalin as she drove it with all of her might.

  “Noal, get the knife away from her!” Dalin cried, and I suddenly unfroze from my shock.

  I sprang forward, leaning over her shoulders and clasping onto her wrist, though she barely took her searing glare from Dalin.

  I strained to pry open her immovable fingers, but even with both Dalin and I putting our strength into staying her hand, the blade was gradually moving closer to Dalin’s skin. He was gritting his teeth with effort, and I desperately tried to wrangle the hilt from her grasp again.

  “Kick her!” he grunted.

  “What?” I gasped. “I can’t kick a lady!”

  “She’ll not stop unless you stun her!”

  The dagger was inching closer.

  “Ooooh, sorry, sorry …” I babbled to Kiana, who wasn’t listening, as I lined myself up.

  “HURRY!”

  I winced at how improper it was, and kicked at her stomach.

  She barely blinked.

  “DO IT!” Dalin shouted now.

  “Oooh!” I groaned, aiming a proper, hard kick into her stomach. I felt my boot connect with her body and this time she doubled over, robbed of breath so that I could hurriedly snatch the dagger out of her suddenly limp hand.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I again apologised guiltily, but she ignored what was happening in the real world.

  “Frarshk,” Dalin swore, startled as she began a new assault, raining down with her fists while she still pinned him. He blocked her from his face with raised arms, but she drove her fast, jabbing punches into Dalin’s chest as she got her own breath back, almost as if she could collapse his rib cage.

  Desperate, Dalin rolled, clasping Kiana’s upper arms, dragging her with him to try to gain the upper hand and immobilise her. She kicked him hard in the shins as he threw her to the floor and she tried to push him off by rolling too, until they were both caught in rotation. Kiana attacked with gusto while Dalin defended and tried to stop her.

  Finally, her head connected hard with the floor and she was startled long enough for him to in turn pin her down with his weight. He used his arms to hold himself up enough to avoid crushing her.

  “Kiana!” he panted. “Kiana, wake up!”

  She shuddered and grimaced, shaking her head. But her eyes started to change, to focus.

  Gaining awareness now, she stared up at Dalin in shock, seeing him truly at last. The shock quickly turned to withdrawal – her expression immediately becoming closed and guarded. In wakefulness she now found it easy to slip out of his grasp with a firm, deft movement, and she at once put distance between us.

  “I would like some privacy now please,” she said stiffly, crossing her arms tightly.

  Dalin pulled himself up too, pale after having had to fight her for his life just a moment before.

  “Kiana,” he said in exasperation. “That wasn’t a normal nightmare. I think you’d best tell us what that was about so we can help.”

  “I am well again now, thank you,” Kiana replied in a low voice, her posture only becoming more closed. Her eyes were guarded and directed at the floor.

  I noticed Dalin follow her gaze, and I did too, to find that there was a beautiful figurine of a mythical Unicorn lying on its side on the floor.

  “Just go.”

  Dalin clenched his jaw and then walked out, baffled frustration written across his face. What horrors kept possessing her?

  I placed the dagger on the bed and followed Dalin out before he closed the door that he had only recently charged through.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Dalin

  I heard Kiana walk out at first light, her footsteps almost too quiet to hear, but I’d been listening for them all night. I heard her pass our door, headed toward the staircase, and I felt drawn to observe her. I waited until I was sure she would have descended the stairs, then crept after her, squatting out of sight on the faded mat spread over the top step of the staircase.

  Kiana was in her deep green hunter’s garb once more. She was pulling one fitted glove used by archers onto her slender fingers, the other was held between her teeth. Yet she didn’t carry her bow and arrows, and I became aware of an innate sense of relief that this meant she wasn’t sneaking away to leave us.

  She pulled on the second glove and threw her dark cloak about her shoulders. For a moment she glanced up at the staircase, as if sensing me watching, and I pressed myself against the wall that blocked her view of me. Then, drawing her hood up, Kiana stepped outside and gently closed the door.

  I released my breath and stood, padding back to the quarters I’d shared with Noal and finding that his head was bowed, his chin resting on his chest. He’d been taken by dreams while he’d sat on the bed, leaning against the wall as he’d listened for Kiana too.

  “Noal, wake up,” I instructed, shaking his shoulder.

  “Mmmm?” His brow creased sleepily as he opened one glassy eye.

  “Kiana’s gone.”

  He opened both eyes. “As in, she’s left us?” he asked, sitting up.

  “I don’t think so, not completely. But perhaps we should take some time to watch and see what’s going on with her.”

  He nodded uncomfortably. “Not like spying, just seeing she’s alright?” he asked for confirmation.

  “Yes, of course,” I reassured him, already dressing in readiness.

  Noal continued to look glum as he searched for his tunic. “I still feel it’s already bad enough I kicked a lady, now I’m snooping on one too.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t feel like Kiana is truly a risk, but we are not experts, and need to be more careful. So far we have both felt able to trust Kiana to come on this Quest, but what if the secrets she conceals are dangerous to us? Or alternatively, what if we can help her?”

  Noal sighed. “You’re right,” he said uneasily. “It may be an idea to go into her room to see if there are any clues with her belongings then.”

  As we made to check her room we both felt as low and sly as Wilmont had always been when he’d revelled in trying to catch us out for any slight misdeed.

  We found that Kiana’s bed was now neatly made, with no sign of the struggle from the night before. Her packs were full and ready at the foot of the bed, and on the pillow of the bed stood the figurine of the Unicorn.

  “Pretty, that,” Noal observed.

  “Yes. It is. We’d better see where she’s got to, then,” I turned to go, but as I passed the little table in the next room, I stopped and stared.

  “She left a note?” Noal asked with a sick expression.

  I picked it up and read it aloud.

  “I’ve gone for a ride with Amala. I’ll return soon. Do not follow. Be useful and get supplies for the journey to Wanru. It will take three days with only the two horses. Stock up enough for Noal’s appetite and ours. Kiana.”

  “Well, tha
t’s embarrassing,” Noal huffed.

  “What is?” I asked, staring at the beautifully shaped script on the scrap of parchment.

  “Kiana knew we would come prying,” he fretted. “What must she think of us?”

  I hardly listened. “She has been educated,” I stated in surprise.

  “Dalin,” Noal scoffed in wonder, “not all commoners are illiterate. And it turns out not all nobles have the good manners we were meant to be ingrained with.”

  “Of course, you’re right,” I replied more humbly, and folded the paper carefully to put it in my pocket.

  But once we had done as she had instructed, I found myself watching for Kiana and wishing to gather more information about her. I was craning to see the road into town from my window when I at last saw her ride back into the square, only to be heralded down by two villagers. She listened as they spoke, then dismounted to follow them.

  “She’s back.”

  Noal followed me hurriedly to find Kiana, now in the square consulting with the grey haired, blind leader.

  “Friend, I am glad you have not left,” we heard him address Kiana, and I wondered at the change of heart.

  “My companions and I do plan to leave as promised,” she replied calmly.

  “Yet before you leave,” he said sincerely, “I must request something of you.”

  She remained silent and unsurprised, allowing him to continue.

  “I have been thinking on your words, and have also had requests from my people. And,” he continued with lifted eyebrows. “We believe you were right. We haven’t been given any joy here for a while. No light to ease our minds.” He moved his head to the side. “We all believe that it may be time for some of that light now.”

  “I see,” Kiana answered.

  “Will you perform for us?” he asked earnestly.

  Noal and I stared at each other, gulping. We had no talent whatsoever in the field of entertainment.

  “Should we flee?” Noal whispered in horror.

  I held my breath as Kiana spoke.

  “Unfortunately, my companions had a little much of your village’s home brew last night, and are feeling too delicate to perform.” Then she shocked us. “But I shall sing for you, if you wish it.”

  A smile broke across the lined face of the old leader. “I thank you, Lady, for being willing to offer us a few moments of reprieve from our toil and fear.”

  So within the hour that we had been planning to leave by, instead of mounting up to leave, we were watching the growing gathering of people in the square who had come at the word of entertainment.

  A table had been brought out, to be Kiana’s stage, and she stood on it now.

  “What are you going to do?” Noal whispered up at her wildly. “They all think we’re real performers and that you can truly sing!”

  “I’ll think of something,” she told him steadily without looking down.

  Noal and I both stood back nervously as she straightened and the crowd quieted. I wondered what she was going to do to get out of this fix.

  Expectant, worn, dirty faces gazed up at her with hope.

  “These are terrible times,” Kiana called for them to hear. “Many of us are already hurting from what the war has cost, before it has properly begun.”

  Each villager was listening and watching attentively. I myself felt caught by the charismatic power that seemed to resonate from this reserved, strong woman. “And yet,” she called, “we have more hope than Krall. We have more power than Darziates.”

  There were not even slight frowns of disbelief, and everyone watched on as if enamoured by her composed presence.

  “You have proven this,” she said. “You, and your loved ones rallying on the borders stand against the crippling fears of what may come, and refuse to be broken. Every time you push aside thoughts of hopelessness, and will your hands to keep working … you prove this.”

  There was a hush, and many of the villagers were standing taller, beholding her serenely as if enchanted. I felt my own flesh prickling, as if her words were laced with some kind of bewitching magic that stirred the blood and inspired the heart.

  Then she started to sing. A slow, haunting song that rang with a warning to our enemies and with galvanising energy to our people.

  Where darkness breeds,

  And light flees.

  Where terror entraps,

  And hatred leaps.

  Where pain is glory,

  And suffering seethes.

  Where loss stabs deeply,

  And doubts creep.

  Look and see.

  That’s where we’ll be.

  Duelling fear,

  And ensnaring greed.

  Fending off ghouls of hurt and grief.

  Her words were at once captivating. Kiana’s voice rang around the square like a low bell of sweetest clarity, as though it could spread heat and feeling. And each of us in her audience were lifted with determination; carried higher to live and breathe what her words gave us.

  Our oath, our pledge, we swear to thee:

  We’ll never sleep,

  Our courage will stay …

  In that moment she seemed so like the young, dark haired village singer that I had once heard sing. When I had stood, youthful and wide eyed, at the foot of a stage at the yearly festival in the now destroyed Bwintam – and had lost my heart. Kiana was different to the smiling singer of Bwintam – so grave and dark. But like those of the young singer, Kiana’s words washed over me and were spell binding.

  Our fight won’t end,

  We’ll light the way.

  Until the night dawns into day.

  Until the threat has been chased away.

  We will not break,

  Or stop and fade.

  We will be strong,

  We will be brave.

  We were all surging closer to the magnetism of her voice. With every rise and fall of her song, I felt all uncertainty drop away.

  We will cast off chains,

  Of dread and hate.

  We will face each trial,

  And test our fate.

  Our strength is great,

  The risks have been weighed.

  We’ll march unshaken,

  In unbreakable waves.

  It is a path to freedom that we shall pave.

  It is freedom

  Freedom – that we crave.

  Her eyes were closed, but she lifted our hearts and carried them to the heavens with her. When she outstretched her arms to us we all were warmed by her embrace without touching anything but her voice. And I felt at a loss when it ended.

  People were leaning against one another, but not in the worn out way they had earlier. They were hugging.

  Kiana stepped down from the table, as people embraced and began to talk; laugh, even. She discreetly moved away, unnoticed, to where Noal and I were gaping.

  She gestured for us to follow her to the stables so we could leave inconspicuously, and she remained thoughtfully silent long after we had left Giltrup behind and set up a new camp for the night.

  However, despite how easily she had moved on from her performance, I hadn’t been able to shake my wonder at the sound of her voice for the whole day. I’d found myself watching her in fascination – hoping for just a word or two more. At last, when she’d left Amala and Ila’s coats gleaming, she had come to the camp fire to sit with us. But it still seemed she was out of our reach, gazing into the flames.

  Noal seemed a little bashful and intrigued too, staying hushed around her.

  Finally, looking for an excuse to hear her voice once more, I cleared my throat.

  “You gave hope to those villagers with your song, you know Kiana.” I watched her face keenly, waiting for a response. “You’re quite the hero if you think about it,” I prompted.

  Kiana’s eyes rose from where they had been lost in the flames. They focused now on me completely.

  “You’re wrong,” she said simply. “I am not the stuff of heroes.”
/>   I was taken aback momentarily, unsure of where to go from there.

  “Well you have nearly killed me in your sleep twice now,” I said then, trying to be jovial.

  I saw dark brows lower over hard blue eyes. “You have intruded on me twice.”

  I frowned too, suddenly feeling defensive, but not quite sure of why. “I had thought I was saving you on the most recent occasion.”

  Kiana rose without answering, crossing back to Amala. Her hand rested on Amala’s neck and the mare nickered while Kiana ignored me.

  “I can’t understand you,” I exclaimed then, in mystified exasperation. “You don’t communicate with us. And there’s obviously something very wrong –” I barely stopped myself from finishing the sentence with “with you”. But the unspoken words seemed to float around in the space between us.

  She turned back to me. Her eyes were cool enough to dim the feel of the camp fire flames heating my face.

  I had never come across someone so reclusive and confusing, and my inexplicable frustration built into an outburst. “Earlier you were singing liberation and hope to those villagers with incredible kindness. Last night you tried to murder me. Then you went back to being quiet and now you’re rebuking me when I was trying to be friendly! You never explain yourself. For all we know, you could be a crazed threat to our safety!”

  Kiana regarded me impassively. “I do not feel obliged to share myself completely with you just because you demand it. I shall share what helps the Quest. But I wonder at what life you have had, if you have come to expect everything of the people around you with little in return. And I wonder if you’ve ever truly spent the time to solve the puzzle of a person, to know them deeply, if it vexes you so that you don’t have what you desire from me after a matter of days.”

  I was taken aback for a moment, glowering with a hanging jaw. “Look,” I told her, regaining gusto. “Just tell us what’s going on, and we can help. It can’t be that bad.”

  “You prove to me that you are the one person who cannot understand someone as crazed as I,” she answered calmly, and I winced.