Perilous Shadows: Book 6 Circles of Light

by E. M. Sinclair

  ‘Tika asked for shields to be in place,’ Nesh objected.

  Shivan nodded. ‘Indeed she did, sir, but if those of you who are able to form shields are still weak, there is no reason for them to use power they cannot afford to expend any earlier than is absolutely necessary.’

  Brin mind spoke them. ‘Storm and I are already on our way south.’

  Sket swore at the smug delight in Brin’s tone. Lady Emla looked none too pleased either.

  ‘For stars’ sake Brin, guard yourselves well. If this is the same creature that caused Tika and Sket to be cast into that Splintered Kingdom, he has more power than his appearance might suggest.’

  She waited, but Brin did not reply, which didn’t improve Lady Emla’s temper at all. She turned back to Sket.

  ‘I think your plan a sensible one. Find Kran and however many guards you think suitable. But Sket, I would not wish you to go further than the Candle Hills.’

  Sket nodded, remembering his years of training under Captain Gan in that area on the edge of the Lady’s lands. Geffal, Onion, Kazmat and Darrick went after Sket as he hurried from the pavilion. Essa watched the departure, of Onion in particular, her eyes narrowed. She glanced at Dog who shrugged, all wide eyed and innocent.

  ‘How soon will the Seniors be here from the Asataria?’ Rhaki asked.

  Kemti looked at the still dark sky beyond the windows. ‘Stars willing, before dawn.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Volk also disappeared in the direction of the barracks. He found Sket and Kran rousing guards and preparing to march. He drew Sket aside.

  ‘The cat,’ he said softly. ‘Khosa. She will stay with Lady Tika but she asked me to tell you those crows alerted her to this thing. She said the crows described the air as looking shivery. And one crow died when it tried to fly through.’

  Sket scowled. ‘That happened before, when we fell.’

  He glanced up at the big man. ‘Are you coming with us.’

  Volk nodded and Sket gave him a grin. ‘Good.’

  Kran selected men who were skilled with the short bow and Sket was glad Geffal was one of the four guards who accompanied him: Geffal was a renowned bowman in the Dark Realm according to Sergeant Essa. Sket reckoned the sun would be well up by the time they reached the Candle Hills, but he intended to force the pace. Emla’s guards had been trained to travel short distances at speed under Gan’s command. Sket hoped Soran had continued the practice. Before he joined Kran, Sket turned to Volk again. He lowered his voice.

  ‘Can you keep an eye on Onion and Darrick? I know they’re meant to be guards, but first and foremost they are bloody mad engineers. I don’t want any mischief today.’

  Volk grunted with amusement. ‘I’ll do my best,’ he agreed.

  Kran led nineteen men out through Lady Emla’s gardens, Sket and his five men with them. Trees and bushes were dark shapes but the light was increasing fast. Sket was pleased to see his five men kept up with the pace set by Kran, even the two engineers. They jogged steadily, not wasting any breath in chatter, and by the time the sun cleared the horizon to their left, the smooth curves of the strange Candle Hills were visible barely two leagues ahead.

  They made their way over the low mounds to the further side and Sket was astonished to see the ground pocked and scarred, bare of turf. Kran stood beside him.

  ‘Soran liked testing those exploding things here.’ He waved a hand at the pits and craters. ‘As you can see.’

  These odd humps, scarcely hills, ran in a long line east to west, and Kran sent men to spread out, always alert for any movement on the plains which began at the foot of these Candle Hills. Sket saw Geffal and Kazmat a hundred paces west, Onion and Darrick trotting further along. Kran sat down, and Sket sat beside him to begin their watch.

  By midday, the sun was quite hot, although it wasn’t long since winter had loosed its hold on the land. A trilling whistle came from their left, repeated twice. Both Kran and Sket searched the southern horizon, the burgeoning new grass shimmering under the sun and rippled by a gentle breeze.

  ‘I see nothing,’ Kran muttered.

  Sket started to agree then stopped. ‘That shimmer – it’s not heat Kran. It’s that creature!’

  Kran followed Sket’s pointing finger and saw the shimmer effect was concentrated in only one comparatively small area. As they stared, lightning flashed amid the distorted air. But the lightning shot up from the earth to the sky, and Sket was suddenly afraid. He concentrated his thoughts as never before and sent a screaming thought into the sky.

  ‘Brin! Storm! Get away! Get away!’

  He watched in terrified apprehension of seeing a Dragon shape falling, burning to the ground, but he saw nothing. Volk and Geffal scrambled up next to him.

  ‘It’s moving fast sir,’ said Geffal. ‘It will be a close thing, for us to get back before it reaches us.’

  Kran was already signalling his men back and sliding down the northern slope of the hill. Sket followed, Kazmat falling and being hauled to his feet again by Geffal. Two leagues back they could see the line of trees marking the border of Lady Emla’s estate.

  ‘Hold up at the border,’ Sket yelled as men started running north.

  Volk caught his arm and when he turned to look at the Old Blood, he knew.

  ‘They both ran down,’ Volk jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Into those deeper holes.’

  Sket stared back up at the slope but Volk held his upper arm in a nearly painful grip and began running after the other men, dragging Sket with him.

  ‘They must take their chance Sket. You cannot risk going after them now.’

  Sket struggled to pull free but Volk only tightened his hold, shaking Sket’s arm.

  ‘How do you think any of us could tell Lady Tika that you’d been hurt or worse man? Now move!’

  Only after Sket started running did Volk release his hold. By the time they stumbled among the barely greening trees, both men were gasping for breath. They leaned behind the nearest trunks, squinting back to the low line of rounded hills. Kran moved up beside Sket, sweat gleaming on his face.

  ‘I don’t think it’s worth waiting here Sket. We should withdraw to the House. Arrows won’t stop this – it reminds me of the Cansharsi.’

  Sket gave him a sharp glance, then nodded. Kran started to order his men to prepare for another running retreat when a series of explosions shook the ground they stood on. Sket stayed by his tree trunk but yelled at Kran.

  ‘Go on! Get the men out of here! I’ll wait only a short while, I swear.’ He glared at Volk. ‘You too. Go on, but I must wait,’ he repeated.

  Another half a dozen explosions shattered the quiet of the early afternoon. Sket stared, watching earth and rock leap into the air and tumble back to the ground. But watching the tops of the mounds, he also saw the air quivering, as it sometimes did on a very hot summer’s day. He swore loudly and angrily then spun to sprint after Volk. As he did, he saw a figure emerge from the hills further to the west, a figure running in a stumbling, uncoordinated way.

  Sket swerved, racing along the line of trees until he was close to the figure. He dashed into the open, grabbed the man, and pulling an arm over his shoulder, dragged him back towards the scant shelter of the trees. He didn’t see Volk but the big man was suddenly there, snatching the man from Sket’s grasp. Volk tossed the man over his shoulder, grabbed Sket yet again and ran, amazingly fast, through the trees and on through the furthest reaches of Emla’s cultivated gardens.

  Emla stood at the top of the steps, just outside the hall, and watched the men running towards her. She knew, by the way they ran, that danger was at their heels. She pushed away her own fear that her people had not regained enough power to withstand the creature she had seen by way of Tika’s far seeking. Kemti stood beside her.

  Nesh was in the library directly above, watching southwards, ready to trigger the shields from the minds of more than twenty Seniors placed around the upper floors of the House. He too saw the guardsmen r
acing towards the House and he noted that the bearded man, Volk, carried another over his shoulder. He sent a thought to a Senior healer, Kollas, then returned his attention the distant border.

  One probing glance told Emla that only one man was injured and that was the one carried by Volk. The men staggered into her hall, gasping for breath but Sket stopped in front of her.

  ‘Nothing attacked us, Lady Emla,. But we all experienced a great fear which came over us, a foreboding sense of doom.’ He paused to suck in more air. ‘None of these men are cowards, all have seen battle, yet everyone of us were nearly mindless with terror when we left the Candle Hills.’

  Emla nodded. ‘You’re suggesting a compulsion.’

  Sket wiped a hand over his sweaty face. ‘That’s what it felt like. It’s gone now, and I feel stupid for doing that wild run.’

  ‘None of you have power Sket, and it needs that ability to fight a compulsion of this sort. Who was hurt?’

  Sket shook his head. ‘One of the engineers. I don’t know which one. The other one is dead.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Go and check him Sket. Nesh sent a healer to tend him.’

  Sket turned away, his breathing steady now but his legs wobbly after that frantic run. A maid approached.

  ‘Senior Kollas is with your man, Captain Sket. Along this passage.’

  Captain Sket? The title still didn’t sit comfortably with him. For Sket, there would only ever be one Captain: Captain Gan Jal Sarl. The maid opened a door and Sket went through. He found himself staring down at a burnt mess. He hadn’t realised the man was so badly injured when he’d grabbed him at the edge of the Candle Hills. Sket had to look hard to identify Onion.

  Three nurses were trying to remove Onion’s blackened shirt while Kollas and Konya were both bent over the engineer’s head. Sket tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Onion’s right eye was gone, and the cheek bone below was exposed. Konya was extracting splinters of stone, bone, and flesh from the eye socket while Kollas swabbed clean the area above the brow. Konya didn’t look up when Sket entered but Kollas gave him a quick glance.

  ‘Flash burns mostly,’ he told Sket. ‘He must have been turning away as it happened. Fortunately.’

  ‘His other eye?’ Sket managed to ask.

  ‘It seems undamaged on first inspection. The right one – well, you can see for yourself. But we don’t think the back of the socket has been penetrated.’

  Konya moved a little to allow Kollas to work within the wound. Her face was grave as she looked across at Sket.

  ‘Senior Kollas has sent him into a deep sleep. For now, it is best. His body was very cold when you brought him in – shock. But for now, sleep is best.’

  Sket nodded, fully agreeing with that. He wondered how long they’d keep Onion unconscious, and what it would feel like to wake up and find an eye missing. He realised he was rubbing his right hand over his own mutilated left hand with a sense of sympathy with the man on the bed in front of him.

  ‘We have to make sure it is clean and stays clean.’ Konya was wiping her hands on a small square of cloth.

  Sket could smell the pungent tang of herbs rising from the cloth, which Konya tossed into a box half full of similar soiled cloths.

  ‘How long will you keep him sleeping?’ he asked.

  Kollas shrugged then peered closer at the red hole he was probing. ‘Until it’s started to heal healthily – three days perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ Konya told Sket. ‘Unless you need me for anyone else,’ she added grimly.

  Sket went to the door. There was nothing he could do except get in the way.

  Konya called him as he was closing the door. ‘Sket, is Darrick all right?’

  Sket closed his eyes then turned back to the healer. ‘Darrick’s dead.’ He knew it was blunt, but what else could he say? Different words wouldn’t change the fact. He made his way out to the exercise yards where many guards were being given instructions to take positions around the perimeter of the House. As he’d expected, he found his men hunkered down together, just to the side of the door, waiting for him. Three faces looked up as he stood in front of them.

  ‘Let’s get back to the pavilion,’ he said gruffly. ‘They’re doing what they can for Onion, but Konya thinks he should recover.’

  In silence Geffal and Kazmat followed Sket and Volk, back through the House and down the steps. Tika had only just woken and learnt that Sket had gone off with Kran. She smiled her relief when she saw him walk into the pavilion, then saw Dog stiffen.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  Sket accepted a bowl of tea, pushed into his hand by Shea, and he sighed.

  ‘The creature is past the Lady’s boundary,’ he said. ‘Darrick is dead, and Onion is injured.’

  He looked at Dog. ‘He’s in the House.’

  Dog glanced at Tika and, at her nod, she left.

  ‘How injured?’ Tika asked softly.

  Sket sank onto a chair. ‘He’s lost an eye and he’s burned, but not badly I don’t think. Kollas said it was flash burn.’ He looked at Farn. ‘Are Brin and Storm safe?’

  Farn’s eyes whirred silver and dark blue. ‘My mother was very angry with them. She went after them and is bringing them back by a longer route.’

  Tika stared at Farn. ‘Why? What did they do?’

  Farn’s eyes flashed faster. ‘Brin and Storm went to find the creature before Sket and those other men could get there.’

  For a moment, Tika looked furious, then she shook her head. ‘Kija will get them back here soon? I can feel the shields are close to being raised.’

  Farn lowered his head to hers. ‘Soon, my Tika, but she will take them into the mountains if there is danger here or if the shields are already in place.’

  Tika chewed her lip. ‘I will go and see what I can do for Onion.’

  ‘No.’ Essa and Shea spoke together but it was Essa who continued. ‘You cannot replace an eye Tika, or spend your strength trying. Look how far seeking exhausted you last night. Don’t risk wasting power now.’

  ‘Wasting?’ Tika asked with angry disbelief.

  ‘Yes, wasting. A flash burn is a bad scald. You cannot restore his eye. Leave him to the healers and concentrate on that.’ Essa waved in the direction of the southern gardens.

  Grudgingly, Tika knew Essa was absolutely correct, but her instinct was to help any one of hers who had suffered hurt on her behalf.

  ‘You’re right,’ she admitted at last. ‘But Sket, are you sure Karlesh is approaching?’

  ‘The air went wavy, like before. Lady Emla thinks he sent a compulsion which caused us to panic in terror and flee back here.’

  Volk grunted. ‘Which has shown him exactly where we are.’

  Sket nodded. ‘But Darrick and Onion didn’t run with us. They went towards him, at least at first. After the second lot of explosions, I saw Onion trying to come after us and Volk carried him back.’

  ‘For which I thank you Volk, and you Sket. Was there anything other than the distorted air that warned of his coming?’

  Sket started to shake his head then frowned. ‘Lightning. Going from the ground to the sky. I feared he had somehow seen Brin or Storm.’

  ‘Lightning?’ They looked at Dromi. ‘We have records of mages, long, long ago, who used lightning as weapons. It has not been seen or attempted in thousands of years. Some believe such records to have been exaggerated, or used as a means to conceal some other information which we have yet to decipher.’

  Tika began to pace. ‘It was spears of ice before. Do you remember any lightning Sket?’

  She waited for his head shake.

  ‘So he uses weather. Shea, run to Emla or Kemti, and ask if they have a weather mage among their Seniors.’

  He stood by one of his windows, watching Karlesh. Qwah had been his creature, his rather pathetic and inadequate tool. He had been angry and dismayed on discovering what Qwah had done with that hapless human female. He had seen Karlesh chew his way out of his mother’s belly and
had roared with laughter. His laughter had ceased abruptly when the newborn Karlesh obliterated even a trace of Qwah.

  Occasionally he had overlooked the dreadful child from one of his windows but found it boring. Karlesh seemed to be satisfied with aimlessly wandering the far reaching grasslands where he hunted small groups of herdsmen and their animals. He pushed the hair away from his face and looked closer through the window. There was a more purposeful air about Karlesh’s stumping march now. Despite the fact that he mostly found Karlesh’s activities tedious, he could not forget that it was he, Karlesh, who had caught that female. He had only realised she was here when those foul Dark things came in to get her out again.

  He snarled softly. Karlesh was eating again, sitting on some smashed hillside, gnawing on something once human. What was urging this – aberration – to march in this direction with such determination? He knew Karlesh was hunting, but whose trail was he following? The Crazed One leaned his forehead against the window. Could Karlesh have scented that female again?

  ‘Mind you don’t cut your head. You surely will if your window breaks,’ said a cool voice beside him.

  Too close beside him. Without turning, his right arm moved in a blur of speed, connecting with the man foolish enough to approach this near without permission. Only when he heard the thud of a body slumping to the floor, did he look round. He smiled. Lord Cyrek got to his feet, his face a bloody mask from which gold eyes blazed in barely held anger.

  ‘You dare to raise a hand to me?’ he hissed.

  ‘You are nothing for me to fear Corman.’

  The Crazed One was suddenly weary of this human reptile. He raised his hand again and watched the man flinch. But he merely flicked his fingers, and cast him from his Kingdom. But inconveniencing the human didn’t rouse the Crazed One from his exhaustion. He limped across his room and sat in his twisted chair. Did that foul Karlesh have a means to find the one he himself so desperately needed to locate?