The Dying Flame

by R L Sanderson

  ‘Well that’s as may be, but you know what is said: for children to flourish a mother is needed to love and protect, a father is needed to guide and direct.’

  ‘So, what do you intend? Will you be living with us again?’ Orla asked.

  ‘Would you like that?’

  ‘Of course,’ Merryn declared at the same time that Orla gave a flat ‘No.’

  The sisters glared at one another, Orla’s heart sinking. Merryn had no idea what this could mean. She was too young to remember him. She didn’t understand that their lives, though far from perfect, contained a degree of freedom that was sorely won and could be too easily lost.

  Kendrid smiled benevolently. ‘I think there is an expectation that while I wear the robes, I will continue to reside at the Sanctuary. But let’s just say, I want to make sure you girls are being well provided for, spiritually as well as physically. These few years before you reach womanhood can be so… critical.’ He smiled. And just for a moment Orla sensed something – a flicker – but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure what it was. And she had no wish to get close enough to find out.

  ‘I heard about Din,’ Kendrid said, and Orla froze. He was looking at her directly, his grey eyes steady. The pain roared through her. The terror, the disbelief. She could smell Din’s blood. She felt herself beginning to shake.

  ‘I understand you two were friends?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Orla said quickly, her voice sounding hard and off-key in her own ears. If it was known that she was a friend of Din’s, that would bring her to the attention of the Confessors. Din had understood that as well as Orla had. Better, even. That was why he’d never invited her to his home or visited hers, or spoken to her anywhere other than at their spot on the riverbank, out of sight of their curious neighbours.

  ‘But you spent time together?’

  ‘I knew him,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t say we were friends.’

  ‘Interesting. That’s not what I’d heard.’

  Orla’s heart thudded. ‘I should go and wash,’ she said, eyeing the door.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to see it,’ Kendrid said in a low voice, ‘what was done to him. It is not for nothing, I promise you that. The threat of Darkfall is greater than any of us can even imagine, and in its shadow individual lives matter little, as harsh as that may seem to those left behind. If we do his will, the God Assayn will protect us.’

  Breathe, breathe, breathe, Orla told herself as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Don’t show anything, don’t say anything.

  ‘Please, though, don’t let me keep you. You look exhausted. I’m sure it’s been a long day.’ Again, that smile.

  ✤

  That night she dreamed she was trying to get home from Joseph’s farm. The sky was thick with smoke and the air was acrid; she could barely breathe. Something terrible was coming, and she didn’t know what it was. She ran down the path towards the river, her heart pounding in her chest. She ran as fast as she could. She had to get to Merryn. Merryn was in danger. She had to get to Merryn and warn her. The smoke was growing thicker by the second and it quickly blocked out the sun so she couldn’t see where she was. And then it began. A thunder that she felt more than heard, a deep, unsettling movement, as though the earth were about to collapse below her. And then it was like rain falling from the sky, but as the first drop struck it burned. She screamed in pain as another drop fell, and then another. There was no escaping it, nowhere to hide. And then she sensed it: a hideous being of flame and darkness, terrible and terrifying. It emanated waves of power, and she knew it was coming for her –

  She woke sobbing, tangled in blankets, pulling them off herself in a panic, feeling as though she were drowning. Once the feeling subsided, she lay still for a long time and listened to the sounds of the night – Merryn’s breathing, a dog barking outside somewhere, the buzz of crickets. It was just a dream, she tried to tell herself. It didn’t mean anything. But still she couldn’t get rid of the taste of the smoke or the fear that hummed in her veins.

  Chapter four

  In the days after Din died, Brother Kendrid took to turning up, unannounced and uninvited, almost every evening. Orla felt the world constricting around her. She tried to avoid him, to hide in her room or stay away at Joseph’s farm until the last moment before curfew, but he made himself unavoidable.

  At first he would just sit, accept the bitter tea her mother would make for him by the bucketful, comment on the weather, and drop a proverb or two as though it were a normal, if stilted, conversation. After a few days his monologues became more intense, as though if he stared hard enough and talked eloquently enough he’d bring the God down on Orla and Merryn and they’d be cleansed and the next thing they’d be scarring their faces and asking to join an Order themselves. It would be a relief if that were all he was hoping for.

  ‘You should really think about the Loom,’ Kendrid said to Orla one evening just before he left.

  She looked away and pretended she hadn’t heard.

  ‘At your time of life, the support of other young women—’

  ‘I don’t have time,’ she said quickly. ‘I have to work.’

  ‘Joseph must understand that your obligations to the God come before any earthly commitments.’

  Orla snorted. She couldn’t help it. She had a vision of herself trying to tell that to Joseph. She knew exactly what the look on his face would be.

  Kendrid’s voice hardened. ‘Of course, if he didn’t, that would be something the Confessors should hear of.’

  Orla swallowed. She wasn’t sure if this was just an idle threat, but she had no desire to find out. ‘I’m sure he’d allow it.’

  Kendrid smiled. ‘I’m so glad to hear that. Tomorrow afternoon, then. We’ll have you home before curfew.’

  ✤

  The Temple of Assayn was a low stone building that lay on the outskirts of Liston, a neighbourhood adjacent to the Metkaran. It had been built just after the war, the stone taken from the shattered remains of the mansions that the Dryuk traders had occupied. A sign of the watching eye was carved into a heavy wooden door at the entrance and Orla shivered as she pushed the door open, her nostrils immediately filled with the smell of damp and dust and the sweet oils the Brethren burned.

  She followed another group of girls who were just arriving into a small antechamber where she was given a gown by a girl a few years’ younger who looked at her with open curiosity. Orla turned away and stripped off the layers of clothing that she wore, embarrassed at how threadbare they were, then pulled the gown on over her head. It was shapeless and grey, symbolising ignorance, lack of purity, failure. That was her guess, anyway. Those were all things that the Brethren went on and on about, as though humans had been brought into the world specifically to fail in as many ways as possible.

  She followed the girl into the chamber, a dark, vaulted space with candles hung all around like stars in a night sky. At first all she saw was a circle of girls in identical gowns kneeling, their faces downcast and shadowed. Many already bore the scar on their cheek.

  Then as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she spotted a familiar face. Ariana sat on the far side of the circle. Orla chose a spot as far away from her as she could.

  ‘Ah, Orla, so glad you could make it. Would you like to introduce yourself?’

  Kendrid was in the centre, like a pale, gangly spider in the middle of a giant web.

  A dozen faces stared at her, some showing mild curiosity, none particularly welcoming. She felt her cheeks burning.

  ‘I… I am Orla…’ was all she could manage.

  Kendrid cleared his throat. ‘I think the God expects a little more of you than that, doesn’t he Orla? Tell us what you understand of the Loom. What do you wish to gain from your time here?’

  All around her rows of faces nodded and frowned. Girls her own age, but so serious.

  Orla swallowed. She felt them looking at her, judging her; it was like prickling heat on her skin. Their thoughts
filled her head with a dark buzzing.

  my god she’s ugly she acts so strange why’s she here? I heard she was a friend of the Dryuk the one who died why did he let her in? she kills things for a living…

  ‘The Loom is a place to… um… to learn…’

  Kendrid turned away, caught the eye of a straight-backed young woman with white-blonde hair.

  ‘Ezaketa, would you like to assist?’

  The woman smiled. Her self-satisfaction sung in the air.

  ‘The Loom is where we bind our individual selves to form a single fabric. Every thread must find its correct place.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kendrid said. ‘Every thread,’ he held Orla’s eye. ‘A single thread alone is weak. Easily tangled. Easily torn. Woven together, you are strong. But beware. One malformed thread can ruin an entire fabric.’ He let the words hang for a moment, then smiled. ‘So. Let us continue from where we left off last week.’ Without any further introduction, the chanting began.

  Orla’s education had been limited. She had never mastered book-reading and her mind tended to wander, making it difficult for her to rote learn. She was surprised to find, though, that if she relaxed she could take the chant from the thoughts of those around her, capture their intention and let herself be guided by it. The fact that there were fourteen others, all focused on the same thing, made it surprisingly easy. It was as though the chant itself resonated in her mind, almost like she could see it as well as hear it, glowing and circling, growing then fading away. She let her eyes close. The music carried her. It was the first time she’d felt like this – like she could be among other people without feeling every moment how far she was apart. She drifted…

  A sudden silence woke her. Around her, the other girls were getting up. She heard a few whispers scattered in the silence, smelled a sweet scent of smoke as the candles were blown out one by one.

  ‘You did well.’ Orla started. Kendrid was right beside her.

  The last of the smaller candles was extinguished and the room fell into darkness. There was only one candle left burning on the small altar, at the far end of the chamber.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and began to rise.

  ‘I’m so glad that you came, Orla. It reflects well on your family. It will stand Merryn in good stead next month.’

  ‘Next month?’ Orla turned to look at him.

  His eyebrows curved in an expression of surprise. ‘You didn’t know? She’s been offered the chance to sit the examination for a seat in the Varum College, in Tev. I have agreed to act as her sponsor. Very prestigious.’

  Orla frowned. Merryn had been offered a seat in a college and she hadn’t told her? But that was wonderful news. Why would she keep it secret?

  ‘Of course,’ Orla said quickly.

  ‘But I should not detain you. Curfew approaches.’ He smiled at her in the darkness. She could just see the white of his teeth, smell the sickly-sweet perfume that always clung to him.

  She hurried out to the antechamber and changed back into her own ragged clothes with a sense of relief, pulled on her heavy boots, then stepped out into the chilling dusk and began the long walk home.

  Chapter five

  Orla knew that look. Guilt.

  ‘It’s true then?’

  Merryn nodded but didn’t meet her eyes.

  ‘Have you told Mama?’ Orla kept her voice low.

  ‘Not yet. I just… I don’t know. I feel so mixed up about it. I know she’ll worry about how much it will all cost, and I might not even get in, and then if everybody knows that I’m being considered and I’m not accepted, well that would be awful… It just seemed easier not to say anything.’

  Orla sat in silence for a minute. She had never really thought of the future. Her life had been dedicated to taking care of Merryn – working to make sure they had food to eat, selling what little extra there was to have coin enough for Merryn’s schooling, keeping a not-too-close eye on her sister’s thoughts and feelings and dreams. Because if Orla knew one thing, it was that most trouble in people’s lives began in their minds.

  As Merryn had grown older Orla had tried to stay back, to allow her sister privacy. It was hard sometimes; they lived in such close quarters. And now, this – a secret she’d had no forewarning of. It made her wonder if perhaps she’d allowed too much distance between them.

  ‘But Merryn, it’s wonderful news. If you’re accepted you’ll be able to leave the Metkaran. Can you imagine it, travelling to Tev to study? Then you’ll be able to try for a posting just about anywhere in Sondaria. You could teach or scribe or work for the Council even. It’s incredible.’

  ‘And if I’m not accepted, I’ll stay here with you?’ There was a quaver in Merryn’s voice.

  She’s frightened, Orla realised. She’s scared of failing but even more scared she might succeed.

  ‘Merryn, whatever happens, you’re not staying here. You’re wasted in the Metkaran. You’re too smart and too beautiful. And you have a gift that matters more than either of those things; people love you.’

  There was a long moment of silence.

  ‘You’re not angry?’ Merryn said.

  ‘Why would I be angry?’

  ‘Because I might leave.’

  Orla bit down the rush of feeling that threatened to drown her.

  ‘Don’t worry; wherever you go, I’ll always find you. We’ll never be apart for long.’

  ✤

  The rest of the week passed almost as usual, except for the aching gap that Din’s absence left in Orla’s life, and the bitter-sweet thought that Merryn might leave.

  Night-time was the worst; the nightmares came almost every night now, and when Orla woke all she could think was how frightened Din had been when he died, how much pain he had felt, and how she could have helped him but didn’t.

  Orla found herself lost in her thoughts, which were like dark clouds that followed her everywhere she went. When she wished Merryn luck as she left to sit the entrance examination for Varum College it only made it worse. While she went through the motions of work with Joseph – no slaughtering to be done, just raking out the stables and washing out the drinking troughs – Orla tried to imagine life without her sister. No Din, no Merryn. Her main source of companionship would soon be the goats and cows and sheep on Joseph’s farm, and they mostly ended up dead. As she scrubbed until her arms ached she felt that longing that came over her sometimes, so strong it stopped her breath – a longing to be somewhere else, to be someone else. But as she followed the narrow laneways back through the Metkaran to her home, carrying the small parcel of potatoes and apples Joseph had given her in payment, she pushed it away.

  She was lost in thought and so she didn’t see them until she had shut the door behind herself. There were three: two seated either side of her mother and one standing behind her. Confessors. She froze, a roaring sound filling her head.

  When her mother looked up, Orla saw her eyes were red from crying and her jaw was set hard.

  ‘Sit down, Orla,’ one of them said. To her surprise, his voice was pleasant – soft, melodious, friendly even. She was shaking. The three steps to the table seemed a vast distance. She pulled out the chair the man indicated and lowered herself to sit, straight-backed, hands on the table before her. She felt her whole life had been leading to this moment.

  She wanted to reach out, to find their thoughts, but she knew that to do that might be to sign her own death warrant. Of all those sought by the Confessors, mage-born were considered their greatest prize.

  ‘Have you seen your sister?’ the man asked.

  Orla froze. Finally, she managed to speak. ‘She had her examination this afternoon,’ she said.

  ‘We will wait,’ the man said, his tone even and considerate.

  ‘What’s going on?’ She turned to her mother. ‘Why are they here? What do they want Merryn for?’

  Her mother just shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

  Orla turned back to the man who had spoken. He was tall an
d thin, and she could see his eyes beneath the folds of his hood – they were pale blue and bloodshot. For a moment, he met her gaze and she shivered. She sensed a cruel single-mindedness that terrified her.

  ‘What has Merryn done?’

  ‘We will wait,’ he said again, with the tone of one infinitely patient.

  She moved to stand. She had to find Merryn, to warn her somehow. The man raised the leather switch and sliced it down onto the table before her. It left a mark on the wood, as though it burned what it touched.

  ‘We will wait,’ he said once more.

  She lowered herself slowly, legs shaking. If that had been her hand –

  Merryn. Oh Gods, Merryn.

  It was probably only fifteen minutes but it felt like hours. Orla sat. She didn’t meet their eyes. She didn’t meet her mother’s eyes. She had to think.

  Kendrid. He was a Brethren. Kendrid could help Merryn, she was sure he could.

  Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the door opened. Orla heard Merryn’s voice.

  ‘I did well. Actually, I did really well. There were a few tricky questions but I really think–’

  She stepped into the room, smiling, then froze. Orla saw the colour drain from her face.

  The Confessors rose in formation and surrounded her.

  ‘You have been accused of blasphemy, of consorting with the enemy, of unnatural activities…’

  ‘What?’ Orla exclaimed, ‘No, it’s not true. None of it’s true. Tell them Merryn, it’s not true. Mama, tell them–’

  ‘There have been certain complaints,’ the man continued, nodding gently. ‘Also, this was found in Merryn’s belongings.’

  He held up a book. A leaden chill descended on Orla.

  ‘That’s mine,’ Orla said quickly. ‘I stole it. It’s mine.’

  ‘You can’t even read,’ Merryn said.

  The man turned to Orla. ‘It was in your sister’s bag,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you deny that she had possession of it?’