Tika felt that they were wasting precious time just waiting here in Return but she was persuaded by Kemti and Gan that they could only await further news from the north before charging off in any direction. This afternoon she was sitting in the inner courtyard with Lord Seboth, his Armschief Olam, Sket and Drak, answering yet more questions about the Domain of Asat. Farn was draped on the roof of the stable block, soaking up the warm sunshine.
A Merig drifted over the drowsing Farn and perched on the edge of the well at the side of the yard. He ruffled his tattered plumage, hopped off the well and strutted towards Tika. She sat up, stifling a grin at the expressions on the faces of Seboth and Olam as the Merig spoke in their minds.
‘Greetings Lady Tika.’ Beady dark eyes blinked once then the Merig drew himself up straight.
‘A message from the Lady Emla in Gaharn. There is another circle north of Tagria. She and others will appear there two days from today. She wishes that you meet her there with an escort, in case her appearance proves unwelcome or frightening to the local people.’
‘Tagria? Go and find Raben,’ Seboth exclaimed to his Armschief.
The Merig clattered his horny beak in an irritated manner.
‘I thank you for the message Merig,’ Tika said hastily. ‘There is no message we need to ask you to take at present.’
‘I will be near by should you need me.’ The Merig flapped himself heavily over Farn’s back again and vanished from sight.
Raben arrived with Zalom of Andla and there was much discussion as to where this new circle might be sited.
Raben said: ‘We will need to leave at once to reach the area in time.’
Tika nodded. ‘Drak, will you go and drag Kemti away from the old women he has been so busy talking with. Sket, without Kadi, there are only Kija and Brin to carry us.’
‘I would prefer to stay with you,’ Sket interrupted firmly.
Tika grinned at him. ‘I thought Kija would carry you and Gan, and Brin would take Kemti and Nomis. Riff and Drak seem to like koninas so they can ride with the Lords.’
Farn descended from the stable roof, sapphire eyes whirring.
‘We will be flying soon then my Tika?’ he asked hopefully.
She hugged him. ‘Yes. It is a relief to me too to be actually doing something at last. I think perhaps you had better wait outside the town, with Kija and Brin. We will join you soon.’
Farn considered this suggestion then agreed. ‘We will wait for you,’ he repeated. ‘You will not be long.’ He gazed at her sternly.
Tika laughed. ‘No, we will not be long.’
Tika hurried back into the building to collect her cloak, her pack, and Khosa, finding the others of her party about the same tasks. Navan stuck his head round the door.
‘I will be with you with a small escort of Return armsmen.’
Tika looked across at him. ‘Hargon?’
Navan shook his head. ‘He left for the south at dawn, saying he would be two days gone perhaps. I will leave word for him of where we will be.’
Word spread quickly that the various visitors were leaving for Tagria and people in the streets had seen Farn lift from the Lord’s compound and fly west towards the outlying fields. Many people flocked outside the town walls and gasps of amazement arose as the massive shapes of golden Kija and crimson Brin appeared over the woodland to settle beside Farn on an open field.
The Dragons flew to the side of the double column of armsmen, keeping their speed a little less than the koninas. Kija spoke of her grave worry over Kadi’s absence.
‘Something happened when Kadi freed that child’s mind. And then the accident to the older boy. I have never, ever, known Kadi do wilful hurt.’
‘Nor I,’ Brin agreed. He hesitated. ‘When she took away the shield, I felt that the child was far stronger than Kadi. Stronger than you or I Kija.’
‘How could that be possible?’ Kemti objected. ‘She was heavily shielded and untrained.’
‘I felt she was trained far more thoroughly than any of you.’ Khosa’s cool comment silenced them all until the riders below signalled a halt.
The next two days followed the same routine. In the late morning of the third day they saw the town of Tagria to their distant left. Built along both sides of the river, the land was green for a league or so then quickly turned into scrub land. The Dragons spiralled down to settle a short distance from the Lords and their men. Raben of Tagria dismounted and walked towards them.
‘This is directly north of my town,’ he explained. ‘I have sent men on, to fetch more armsmen. Even thinly spread, it will take a lot of searching to find what you describe.’
‘We will search.’ Kija told him.
Raben gulped, still unused to the dramatically larger adult Dragons.
‘We often see more from above than you do from so low,’ Brin explained helpfully.
‘You do not need to join our search,’ Kija told Farn.
Farn’s eyes flashed. ‘Of course I will search,’ he retorted.
Tika waited for Kija’s reprimand, but none came. The armsmen set about making camp before beginning the search for what most of them had little belief in. Tika sat by an efficiently built cookfire, sipping scalding tea. By nightfall, Raben ordered his men to mark where they had reached in their search and to come back to camp for supper and some sleep. A rota of sentries was organised, stretching for a league both west and east of their camp.
Khosa had melted away on one of her mysterious forays before dark but as the moon rose she reappeared. She perched as close to the fire as was safe and began a thorough washing of her person.
‘The circle is but a few paces away,’ she said smugly.
Farn’s eyes blazed in annoyance but Tika shushed him.
‘Show me exactly where Khosa,’ she said.
The Kephi’s eyes slitted as she glanced over her shoulder to where Tika sat at Farn’s side.
‘Please,’ Tika added through gritted teeth.
The Kephi stood up, turned and, waving her orange tail like a royal flag, trotted into the darkness, Tika at her heels. Lords and armsmen hastily followed, a few prudently lighting torches from the fire.
‘There.’ Khosa jumped onto a boulder and from there to Gan’s shoulder.
Kemti scuffed at a low growing coarse bush which responded by exuding a faint lemony scent. He crouched, pulling the bush out of the ground and digging his long fingers into the soil.
‘She’s right!’ he exclaimed in excitement. ‘It is under the earth about so deep.’ He spread his hands apart to indicate the depth. ‘We must clear it by dawn. Spades?’
Raben’s Armschief Zekel barked orders and men rushed back to camp, returning with spades and picks. Kemti refused the picks.
‘I do not know what might happen if the circle pattern was actually broken,’ he explained.
Willing hands probed and scraped through the night, made even more willing as, slowly, the circle emerged, its inlaid jet and crystal mosaic gleaming in the moonlight. They finished just as dawn fingered the sky. Grubby and tired, armsmen sat with their Lords around Tika and Gan, and watched the circle. Whispers died as the pattern shimmered and five people appeared before them.
Emla stepped off the circle, holding her arms out to Tika. Gan fruitlessly attempted formal introductions but Tika had seen Elyssa. Silvered eyes met silvered eyes. Elyssa moved forward with a delighted smile, and Tika burst into tears.
Cho Petak walked slowly through the topmost apartments of the Menedula. The outer doors were locked and warded against any who might think to interrupt him. He raised a finger and a black panel swung towards him. Still deep in thought, Cho passed into the passage that led deep into the lava mountain. The apparently seamless wall split to reveal another doorway at Cho Petak’s nod.
Lamps flared alight as he crossed the threshold and he paused, vaguely aware of the familiar booklined walls surrounding him. He moved to the table in the middle of the room, glancing at the open volume which he had been s
tudying of late. The Sacrifice nodded once more and another door opened silently through which he took only a few paces.
Hanging impossibly unsupported in the small space within were seven flat gold disks, the lowest only a handspan from the floor. He studied the disks for a moment, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, then he turned back to the first room. For more than two thousand years the Weights of Balance had been forgotten in their secret place. Cho Petak had learned of their existence accidentally when reading a volume he had taken from the main library in mistake for a set text when he was a senior Aspirant. That book led him to another, he traced clue after clue, until he knew the Balance must be within the Menedula building. Then it had been a matter of laying his plans and waiting patiently for their fruition.
Once installed in these upper chambers as the Sacrifice of the Order of Sedka, it had been a simple matter to discover the hidden doors leading to the Weights of Balance. Cho Petak sat in the single chair at the table. Two other systems of Balance he had read of, and it had taken him many years to discover how to disrupt them both. Now, there were still seven disks here, while only six remained in each of the others. The Balances had been set in place by the old gods of this world, but Cho Petak had yet to identify just who those old gods were or from whence they had come.
Cho Petak leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He was mildly perturbed by the disappearance of Offering Ren Salar and of the Aspirant, Voron. He had first suspected that either or both had gone to Oblaka to find Babach, but neither he nor his creature Krolik, the new Master of Aspirants, had found any trace of them. Observer Babach was definitely in Oblaka, but that was of no moment – it was his old home.
Both Ren Salar and Voron had potentials unrealised by either, which was the reason Cho wanted them kept close by. He dismissed the thought of them: they offered no threat to him, wherever they might be. He relaxed for a moment, letting his mind drift across the world as it had become so simple for him to do.
It was but a minor effort to maintain the silvering of his eyes but it still cost a small amount of his decreasing energy. As Cho Petak searched for Rhaki and the other one, his brilliant blue pupils became red, flickering like living flames.
Ren was still in a state of shocked disbelief. Voron and Babach had rushed about, making lists of what Ren should tell and ask the people of the Night Lands, collecting items of clothing for him and arguing as to how all should be packed. Ren did little except watch them, trying to distract his thoughts from terrifying visions of himself high in the sky on the back of a bird.
He had been taken to meet Baryet and had nearly fainted on the spot. He had no idea Plavats were quite so huge, or quite so obstreperous. But now, the preparations were done, his pack was on his back, his cloak wrapped over all. Chakar had given him a staff to carry: polished white wood with iron caps at each end. He had not asked what he might be expected to use it for – in any sort of fight, he would probably only damage himself. The thought of a fight made him feel sicker than ever. The staff was strapped across his back, between the pack and his shoulders, and he was working hard to ignore its presence.
Babach hugged both Ren and Chakar before they left the cottage. He had woven a shield so that no prying mind would be aware of anyone other than Chakar and himself.
Baryet suddenly descended to land in front of them, his mate Syecha settling beside him. Numbly, Ren climbed among the feathers as he was instructed, wound his hands tightly round a strap he found just above the wings, and closed his eyes. The wings began to move in a rhythmic beat, there was an uncomfortable tilting to one side sensation, then the air blew steadily into his face.
‘Ren. Ren!’ Chakar’s voice in his mind was sympathetic and calm. ‘Don’t hold the strap so tight, you will only deaden your fingers. I promise you are quite safe.’
Ren forced his hands to loosen their grip and felt the tingle of blood able to circulate properly again. Chakar said nothing more for a while but Ren was aware of her close to his left side and found some comfort in that. He finally cracked open one eye, then both opened wide and he stared in astonishment. It was almost as though he could reach out a hand and touch the clouds – not that he would be so foolish of course. The sea was so far below, it was just a carpet of varied blues and greens, the awful tossing and heaving was indiscernible from the height they flew at. Ren had the first inkling that he might just survive this ridiculous journey after all.
It was impossible to judge how long they flew, neither of the great birds communicated with their passengers or with each other as far as Ren could tell. His legs were cramping more frequently and his back was on fire, when Chakar spoke again.
‘Close your eyes Ren. There is an island ahead where we will land for the night.’
Obediently, Ren closed his eyes as Syecha tilted sideways and down. His stomach lurched as the tilting and dropping were repeated, and then – stillness. Cautiously, Ren opened his eyes and saw Chakar sliding from Baryet’s back. She staggered when her feet hit the ground and stamped her feet to restore the feeling to her legs. Ren followed suit and ended in a heap on the ground. Chakar laughed.
‘You will soon get used to it. Come on, move about for a while, Ren, then we will see about a fire and some supper.’
‘But neither of us can cook,’ Ren retorted, staggering onto his feet again. ‘Where have the Plavats gone?’ He tottered in Chakar’s wake.
‘Fishing, or just playing.’
Ren stood at Chakar’s side and saw they were on a tiny island indeed, barely a league in any direction and covered with low, wind-bent bushes.
‘No monsters Ren!’ Chakar told him solemnly.
‘Well I didn’t imagine there would be,’ Ren retorted untruthfully.
Chakar grinned at him but didn’t pursue the point.
Later, lying wrapped in their cloaks, heads pillowed on their packs, Chakar sighed contentedly.
‘From what I can tell through Baryet’s memory, there are islands scattered nearly all the way across the sea to the Night Lands. There may be one day when we will have remain in the air longer than today, but I hope not.’
‘Baryet said it took him five days to fly the distance?’
‘That was without stopping. It will take us longer – not too much I hope, but still longer.’
After seven days, Ren continued to close his eyes firmly when the giant Plavats took to the air or landed, but he had learnt to have confidence in their flying skills. As with horse riding, he found his muscles growing accustomed to the different use to which they were being put. Chakar spent the evenings instructing him further in the ways of the Order of Myata which gave him plenty to ponder on during the long days of flight.
Baryet announced that they had only mountains to fly over during that day and then they would reach the Stronghold.
‘We will fly faster today,’ he announced. ‘I do not wish to leave you for a night in such cold.’ He lowered his head to Chakar’s level. ‘It is far too cold for you, although not, of course, for us Plavats.’
Ren and Chakar had to pull the hoods of their cloaks close about their faces as the ever colder air bit into their skin. Stars were just scratching through the darkening sky when Baryet sent out his screeching call. Ren shivered as a great bass cry answered the bird. Syecha tilted down after her mate and then strutted after him through a tall gateway cut into the sheer wall of a mountain.
Ren blinked at the sudden warmth and light that enveloped him. He slid off of Syecha’s back and stood beside Chakar as a slim, russet-haired boy came forward. Ren stared at the golden scales covering the boy’s face then he forgot all about the polite greeting he had prepared as a massive black Dragon reared erect to offer them formal welcome.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ryla had, with very poor grace, agreed to call a restricted Gather in the great hall of Emla’s House. She could not travel back into the city herself without needing days for her ancient body to recover from the trip. So she had summoned the minimum num
ber of Discipline Seniors, Seniors and Students needed to convene an official Gather. She bullied Hani into being present, knowing the presence of a Great Dragon would be greatly helpful. Chairs were arranged in a semicircle around Ryla and Nolli, with an extra seat beside Ryla for Jilla to appear as the visiting representative of Vagrantia.
Soran had a full squad of Guards spaced around the hall. Since Lady Emla’s disappearance, using the circle in the Asataria, rumours had flown through the city. Most of those now Assembled before Ryla were intrigued by the news of the previously unknown Vagrantians who lived across the Wilderness. Seats gradually filled and Ryla took command of the Gather.
She outlined events as far as they were known, being considerably economical with some of her facts, Jilla thought. Ryla invited no questions when she had finished speaking, asking that Jilla be heard first. The air mage spoke quietly and steadily, giving a brief history of the Vagrantians’ exile from Sapphrea, which, along with the rest of this whole land, they once governed and knew as the Land of Valsheba.
Murmured conversation started up when Jilla resumed her seat but before Ryla could suggest that questions might now be asked, Discipline Senior Fayet was on his feet.
‘And now these circles have been brought back to life, what is to stop an army coming through?’
Jilla raised her eyebrows. ‘It would take hours to get an army through a circle, even if we had one.’
‘Hours is still faster than the days it would take to cover the same distance on foot,’ Fayet snapped.
Jilla considered weaving air around this disagreeable person and hanging him out of the way, somewhere high, but Ryla’s hand slapped down on the arm of her chair. The old lady’s eyes flashed in anger.
Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series Page 37