The Cloven Land Trilogy

by Simon Kewin

  “Why?” said Nox.

  “The arch at that end was destroyed in antiquity. During the dragon wars, the battles at the bridgehead. And without archways to anchor the wyrm roads they … flap around.”

  “Flap around?” said Cait.

  “So the ancient texts say. All the riders' old books and scrolls are here. Most have crumbled, but some have survived like this map. The ones written on dragonskin. I've deciphered all I can. They say the wyrm roads flow and twist over time. That's why the riders built the archways, to fix the roads into place.”

  “So this one might emerge anywhere now,” said Cait.

  Phoenix nodded. “It might have shifted tens of miles. Hundreds even.”

  “Then we could use it and they'd never know.”

  “Perhaps,” said Phoenix. “Although it could also drop you right in front of the Witch King and his court.”

  “Or in the middle of the An,” said Nox.

  Phoenix considered this with a frown. “That's possible, too, although less likely. The running water would deflect the roads, I think.”

  Cait studied the map for a few more moments. It was so tempting to remain at Caer D'nar. It felt peaceful and safe. But, of course, it wasn't. “We need to talk to Lugg and Ran, decide what we're going to do. We don't want to wait here and draw Menhroth's army down on us.”

  “Perhaps that will happen anyway,” said Phoenix. “As I said, it's not important. What matters is what you do. Everything is finely balanced. One misstep and it will fall apart. You're at the centre of everything, Cait.”

  “And Ran. Without him we'll have to walk to the An.”

  “Ran, too,” said Phoenix.

  “Where is he anyway? I haven't seen him or Lugg this morning.”

  “I'll show you.” Phoenix's knee joints cracked as he pushed himself to his feet. “They're down on the ground. Fighting.”

  “Fighting?”

  “Come, see.”

  Nox returned to studying the map while Cait edged as close to the lip of the archway as she dared. They were facing south toward Angere. Somewhere in that distance sat Greygyle's palace. And the White City. And, quite possibly, the army preparing to cross the Dragon's Tongue and come for them. She searched with her mind but could detect nothing.

  Rusting iron handrails had been set all the way around each arch. Cait grasped hold of one and leaned over as far as she dared. The wind, whipping about the tower, lashed her hair as she peered down. She picked out Ran and Lugg on the ground, tiny figures circling each other, Lugg occasionally darting forward to attack, Ran leaping effortlessly out of his way.

  “What are they doing?” asked Cait.

  “Like I said, fighting,” said Phoenix. “It looks like Ran has taken Lugg under his wing.”

  “I think Lugg's a bit in awe of Ran.”

  Phoenix sat on the lip of the drop, as if he were simply dangling his legs over the bank of a river. “It's understandable. Ran is training the boy, showing him how to move, how to fight. When I found them early this morning at the foot of the tower, Ran was using a needle to cut ink into the skin of Lugg's arm.”

  Cait, clutching the ancient iron railing with all her strength, sat warily beside him. “He's giving Lugg dragonrider tattoos?”

  “He's made a start.”

  “Where did he get the needle from? And the ink?”

  “Carries it with him, I think. So he can add to his own from time to time.”

  “That means Lugg will have blue lines, too.”

  “Azure Wing, yes. I believe they get more tattoos as they progress. They're a sort of badge of rank as well as a magical defence.”

  “A magical defence? Is that why I can never see Ran's mind?”

  “I thought you knew. Disconcerting isn't it? It's impossible to know what he's really thinking.”

  “I'm used to not knowing what people are thinking,” said Cait. “Seriously I don't know what I'm thinking most of the time.”

  Phoenix nodded. “Of course. But I've spent my life glimpsing the world through other people's eyes. With people like you I can see much farther and clearer but just about anyone is open to me if they're near. With Ran, there's nothing.”

  “Like the undain.”

  Phoenix glanced aside at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why do you say that?”

  “You can't read them, either. They're an emptiness. Like … the opposite of a living mind.”

  “Yes. But Ran is most definitely not an undain. I can sense his mind, burning brightly. I just get no detail from him. No colours, no faces, no thoughts. He keeps it hidden away. It's a vital skill, and one you must master, but none do it like the wyrm lords.”

  “So the tattoos … they somehow deflect magic.”

  “In a way. From what I've read they originally had them because of the dragons.”

  How come she didn't understand any of this? She felt like such an idiot. “Why?”

  “Dragon's minds were vast and terrible. Their appearance was obviously fearsome enough, but there was more to it than that. They emitted a baleful aura that made people cower or run screaming when one was near. The fire they breathed was terrible, but it was the burning in your mind that was their greatest weapon. In battle they often didn't even have to do anything. Just by being there they defeated their foes. But somehow the patterns of the riders' tattoos protected them. Like a magical armour.”

  Cait sighed. “There's so much I don't know. So much I don't understand. I'm supposed to be saving everyone, saving the world, and I haven't got a clue about any of it.”

  “I know. They were only trying to protect you, you know.”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother and your gran. They wanted to tell you everything but feared doing so. Feared exposing you. I think they hoped it would pass you by and you could live a normal life.”

  Cait snorted. “Not much chance of that, now, is there?”

  “Perhaps. Who knows what the future will bring? It may be they were wrong to keep you in the dark, and it may be they weren't. But I do know they agonized over it, and I know they were only doing what they thought was best for you. When I touch their minds their love for you burns even across the aether.”

  “Have you … seen them today?”

  “I'm sorry, no. I tried to reach them again last night but got nothing.”

  “Will you keep trying?”

  “Of course.”

  “Phoenix.” It was one of the other Smouldering Fire members, a woman who'd helped haul up the logs. She stood behind them, one hand on Phoenix's shoulder.

  Phoenix looked up at her. “Demara. What is it?”

  “A messenger from the outpost.”

  A look of concern clouded Phoenix's wrinkled face. He turned to Cait. “We should see what this is.”

  He pulled himself up and followed the woman. A black bird was perched on the lip of one of the other archways. It looked like a crow except its beak was bright red, as if dipped in blood. Another member of the Smouldering Fire was scattering grain on the ground for the bird to peck. Around the bird's neck was a tiny metal container.

  “You use messenger crows, too?”

  “Something similar,” said Phoenix. “Come see.”

  Cait followed him to where the bird was hopping around, stabbing at the food.

  “They're choughs,” said Phoenix. “Like crows but more common around these cliffs. We use them to send messages to our watchtowers.”

  “Where?”

  “You saw the remains of one at the archway. We haven't manned that one for many years. But we have three others, spread out across the northern banks of the Dragon's Tongue.”

  Phoenix knelt and, moving very slowly, held out a flat hand toward the chough. The bird regarded him with a suspicious eye. It croaked once, then hopped onto Phoenix's hand. Carefully, Phoenix unhooked the message from the bird's neck. He stood, angling the piece of paper he'd unfurled to the light, and read.

  When he was done he handed the mes
sage to Demara. Cait didn't need to peer into their minds to see how troubled they were. The looks passing between them were enough.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “It's from the southern watchtower. I'm sorry, Cait. We may not have as much time as we thought.”

  Phoenix peered through the archway, southward into the distance. He looked suddenly very old and weary. “The undain are massing to cross the river and march on Caer D'nar as we speak.”

  13. Voices in the Aether

  Phoenix unhooked a curling brass horn from the wall and, standing in one of the open archways, sounded a deep, blaring note into the open air. A few minutes later Ran and Lugg arrived up the spiral stairs, Ran first, both of them breathing heavily. Lugg had cuts and grazes to add to his existing wounds. His forearm, where Ran had begun work on the tattoos, dripped blood freely. He didn't appear to be troubled by any of it. In truth, he looked happier than she'd seen him. He stood close to Ran as they gathered around the wyrm road map and Phoenix repeated the news from the river.

  “We must decide where to go,” said Nox. “If we stay here they'll kill us all, sooner or later.” Nox glanced at Phoenix who nodded his assent, a frown deepening the lines on the old man's face.

  There was a moment's silence. Cait glanced around the ring: Nox, Ran, Lugg, Phoenix, Demara. She realised they were waiting for her to speak. As if she had all the answers. As if she had any answers. It seemed clear they should try and reach the An, somehow get the book as they'd agreed, but that meant heading toward the enemy. Even if the gateway at the White City wasn't defended, the arches at Fiveways most certainly would be. How could they hope to use the wyrm roads without being attacked? It seemed utterly hopeless.

  Frowning, she leaned over the map as if some answer, some secret way they hadn't noticed before, would be revealed. She found Caer D'nar, a sketch of the tower they stood within, at the edge of the great range of triangular mountains. The wyrm road they'd used headed to the south, crossing over the meandering blue line of the Dragon's Tongue to the ring of archways.

  “If we can get back to Fiveways then we can take this road east to the river.”

  But as she pointed out the line, she brushed the cracked surface of the ancient map with her finger…

  …and she fell into sudden darkness, as if a trapdoor had opened in the floor of the tower, plummeting her to the ground. She screamed, but there was no sound. She flailed around, confused, disorientated. If she was falling why was there no rush of air on her face? And if she wasn't, why couldn't she feel hard stone beneath her feet? Where had the tower gone? Where had Nox and the others gone? What the hell was happening?

  Bethany!

  The dead witch-girl's voice quavered as she replied. The fear there was clear. Something has come for us, Cait. Oh, Cait, get away. Get away now.

  Cait twisted around, trying to understand where she was, see what was coming. The darkness was absolute. She could hear nothing but her own panicky breathing. None of it made any sense.

  She only realised she wasn't alone when two red eyes opened in front of her. Two vast red eyes. She sensed the other presence clearly then, its mind filling the void like a sun, its bulk making up half of the world. There was a towering rage to it: a fury that seethed and boiled, barely contained, as the eyes regarded her.

  Involuntarily, Cait took a step backward. It made little difference; the eyes moved no farther away. Their gaze bored into her, filling her vision. Cait threw her arms over her face to keep them out. The eyes were in her mind, picking through her thoughts and memories with ease.

  She fell to the ground – if there was a ground to fall to – and writhed as the attack continued. She tried to fight back, tried to hurl the invading mind out of her own. Distantly she was aware of Bethany doing the same. But neither was strong enough. Not nearly strong enough. And the red eyes shone on everything in Cait's thoughts: every event, every face, every terror. There was nothing she could do. She could only writhe, exposed, vulnerable, in that red glare.

  The rage in the invading mind burned clearer with each moment. In desperation, in her own anger, Cait threw herself outward, flinging herself at the red eyes, trying to reach through them to her attacker. Perhaps she could find some weakness. Perhaps she could hurt the invader in some small way.

  It was useless. She was hurling herself against glass walls, impossibly thick. But she did sense a word. A word intimately entangled with the being's thoughts. A name, perhaps. Not knowing what else to do she shouted the word, screaming it out loud even as her attacker delved deep into her oldest memories. Cait caught glimpses of her father and her mother from when she was young, the intruder seeing it all at the same time, tinting everything flame-red.

  Cait screamed the word again and this time the being reacted. It recoiled and began pulling itself out of her mind. Its fury was unabated, but whether she had repelled it, or whether its curiosity was simply satisfied, she couldn't say. The malevolent eyes burned into her for a moment more and then blinked off and were gone.

  Cait lay alone in the utter darkness, exhausted, sobbing. She hurt in ways she didn't know she could hurt, her brain raw from the intrusion. Bethany was a distant, wordless moan in her mind. So this was what it was like to have your mind invaded, your memories and thoughts pulled apart and rifled through. Had it been like this for Nox when she'd looked into his thoughts? Perhaps. She would never do that to anyone again. The brutality of it. The violation. She would make sure, also, no one could ever do it again to her. Her anger flared once more and she struggled to her feet…

  …and she was back in the watchtower of Caer D'nar, faces with concerned expressions all round her. She was still standing, leaning over the map.

  “What is it, Cait?” said Nox. “What's wrong? You just stopped talking. You look like you've seen a ghost.”

  Phoenix walked around the map and put a hand on her arm. “Cait? Did you see something? A vision?”

  She tried to speak but couldn't for a moment. She looked into the old man's eyes and nodded.

  “Who, Cait? Who was it? Was it Menhroth?”

  She looked at the map. Her fingers were still stretched out to touch the parchment. She'd touched the bone in the crypt and felt nothing. But then she'd touched the dragonskin of the map and been engulfed by darkness and those red eyes.

  “Not him,” she said. “There was a name. I heard its name.”

  “What was the name?”

  “Xoster.”

  Silence filled the room once more as if she'd worked some spell. Cait's legs were shaking, threatening to buckle beneath her. Phoenix's eyes were wide, as were Ran's and Lugg's.

  Only Nox looked confused. “Xoster? Never heard of him. Will someone tell me what is going on?”

  “An ancient name,” said Phoenix. “A name from the old stories.”

  “OK, so who is he?” said Nox.

  “She,” said Phoenix. “Xoster was the first dragon. The mother. The wyrm whose children the undain slaughtered five hundred years ago.”

  “There was … such rage in her,” said Cait. She could see the red eyes in her mind. “I tried to keep her out but there was nothing I could do. She was filled with fury at what has been done to her. Even now, after all this time, she burns with it.”

  “Xoster,” said Phoenix, as if tasting the word. “Xoster, alive. It's incredible. It changes everything. I thought, I mean, I hoped. Even one dragon could make all the difference. And Xoster…”

  Ran spoke then, a steam of syllables she couldn't follow, although she picked out the name several times. Lugg replied and the two of them conversed excitedly, both speaking at once. Phoenix joined in occasionally, dropping in and out of English as Nox threw in questions.

  Cait tried to understand what they were saying but couldn't keep up. Numbness overcame her. Her legs shook. She slumped to the ground and held her head in her hands, shutting everything out for a moment. Were they talking about finding this creature?

  Phoenix crossed to
a low table, where a metal urn had been set. Steam coiled from its spout. He poured a drink into a battered metal cup and crossed back to hand it to her. His voice was gentle, sympathetic. “This might help.”

  Her hand shook as she took the drink. She sipped it gratefully. It wasn't as good as the tea her gran made, but it was good enough.

  She let Nox and the others talk, their excitement obvious. She heard something about the Wyrm Way. Whatever they were saying their intent was clear. They planned to head north. They planned to track down this dragon. This mad, raging dragon.

  It had been a mistake to come to Caer D'nar. They'd had little choice, it was true, but she'd been too hopeful of finding friends here. Too desperate for help. But it wasn't going to work out like that. There was no army, and now Lugg and the others wanted to go chasing off into the mountains.

  “No,” said Cait.

  Nobody noticed, and she had to repeat herself, shouting to make herself heard. “No! No, you mustn't do that. I told you. She was … terrible. It was like drowning in a sea of anger. She hurt me. We can't go anywhere near her.”

  Glances passed between the five of them. They had it all arranged, all agreed between them. A few minutes earlier they'd looked to her for answers and now they were ignoring her.

  “We have to get to the An,” she continued. “Try and reach Andar. It's our only hope. We didn't agree anything about chasing after crazed dragons.”

  “We didn't know there were dragons any more,” said Nox. “Menhroth has no idea Xoster is still alive. That anger you described could be turned on the undain. Unleashed on them.”

  “Or it could be unleashed on us,” said Cait. “I'm not sure she sees much difference between us and them.”

  “Touching the minds of dragons was always a terrible ordeal,” said Phoenix. “Many went mad when they tried.”

  “Right,” said Cait. “So let's stay well away.”

  “But don't you see?” said Lugg. “Everything is coming together like I said. We have to do this. We have to go there. We have to head north to find her. The undain won't be able to follow us. When we're ready we can fly to the White City and destroy them all. It's our fate.”