Besieged (The Outcast Chronicles)

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  Frayvia wrapped her arms around them both and held on. How long they sat there, Imoshen didn’t know. After a while, she heard a dog bark. Where there were dogs, there were people. And this was the mainland; they would be Mieren people, hostile to her kind.

  She lifted her head, numb but determined. ‘We go to the city. We go to...’ She’d been going to say the brotherhood, but she knew better now. While she fed the newborn yesterday, Reothe – it hurt to think of him – had told her about the armed truce between the brotherhoods and the sisterhoods, and what the all-father had planned to do with their sacrare child.

  He had wanted her to absolve him of guilt, and she had. He’d been as much a victim of the all-father’s machinations as her. She was glad they’d had their time together, even if there was an open wound inside her where Reothe had belonged, and another where the baby had grown under her heart.

  Frayvia pulled back, rubbing her chest. ‘It aches...’

  ‘It does,’ Imoshen agreed. ‘But why do you feel my pain?’

  Frayvia’s eyes widened, then she hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. ‘Of course.’

  Iraayel laughed once, bright and clear. ‘Silly Fray.’

  ‘Of course what?’ Imoshen prompted.

  ‘You dragged me onto the empyrean plane. You have no training, it’s a wonder we survived.’

  ‘I’ve been there before,’ Imoshen admitted.

  ‘You never told me.’

  ‘I didn’t want to compromise your loyalty, so I didn’t tell you about it. At times, the world shifted, and I’d see the other place super-imposed over this one.’

  ‘You’re a natural gift-warrior.’

  Imoshen caught herself rubbing her chest. Frayvia was doing the same. ‘You’re doing it again. Feeling what I feel.’

  ‘Because we’re linked. Your gift breached my walls. I’m your devotee, tied to your gift for life.’

  ‘Oh, Fray...’ Yesterday, Reothe had explained the relationship between Ardeyne and Torekar. How it was frowned upon. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean–’

  Frayvia shook her head, brushing this aside. ‘We’ll have to bind your breasts to stop the milk. Are they swollen and sore?’

  Imoshen shook her head. ‘After I came back to this plane, my skin was hot and I burned with a fever. I kept us warm. Now I feel hollow, like my gift is used up.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Frayvia nodded to herself. ‘Don’t worry. It will come back.’

  ‘It has to, if I am to keep you two safe. We’re surrounded by Mieren. We’ll go to the sisterhoods.’

  Frayvia nodded. ‘To the city.’

  ‘Is it far?’ Imoshen asked.

  ‘Days and days.’

  ‘Then we had better start walking.’ Imoshen came to her feet.

  Frayvia took Iraayel’s hand.

  ‘We have breakfast now?’ he asked.

  ‘Soon,’ Frayvia said. She glanced to the dead baby in Imoshen’s arms.

  ‘I know. I can’t carry him forever. But I have to find somewhere safe to...’

  She would find somewhere safe to leave him. And, with him, she would leave her illusions. All her life so far had been a lie. She had been partner to her own delusion. Her weakness had caused Reoshen’s death.

  From this day forward, she would look on the world with absolute honesty, and use everything in her power to protect those she loved.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘THE CELESTIAL CITY...’

  Imoshen had to admit, it was every bit as beautiful as the poets claimed. A city of white stone, domes and spires, reflected in the perfect stillness of the lake.

  A bird called. The trees above her were covered in a mist of green buds. It was almost spring cusp. Her stomach rumbled; she could smell the breakfast Frayvia was cooking and hear Iraayel’s soft chatter.

  Through the last part of winter they’d walked halfway across Chalcedonia, sleeping in barns and stealing food. It was the worst time of year to be travelling. Imoshen had become adept at calming farm dogs, and she’d discovered how hard it was to create an illusion in Mieren minds. She’d been called a filthy Wyrd and she’d seen, firsthand, how much the Mieren feared her kind.

  Today they walked into the city to claim sanctuary. All they had to do was get through the Mieren town built on the lake’s shore and across the causeway.

  ‘There you are.’ Frayvia was sharing the pot of oats with Iraayel. ‘We saved you some.’

  Imoshen sat by the fire and waited her turn. They all ate out of the one pot, and they would leave it behind today. She would be glad to finally eat something other than warm, soggy oats.

  Frayvia handed her the pot. ‘You can’t use your gift once we reach the city. You must keep it tightly reined. To do otherwise will be taken as an insult and a sign of poor control. And you must not cast illusions. Only men have that ability.’

  ‘But –’

  Frayvia shook her head.

  ‘But Reothe showed me how he did illusions. It was a game we played.’

  ‘A dangerous game. We must blend in.’

  Imoshen nodded. She could sense Frayvia’s fear through their link.

  ‘We’ll go in early, before the T’En are about,’ Frayvia said. ‘Their Malaunje servants will be opening businesses in the free quarter, but they will not stop us if we act as though we know what we’re doing. All-mother Aayelora leads the oldest and most powerful of the sisterhoods. She can protect us.’

  Iraayel looked up. ‘We go home now?’

  ‘Yes, we go to our new home now,’ Imoshen said.

  ‘VITTORYXE, COME QUICKLY!’ It was Egrayne’s devotee. She must have completely forgotten herself, or she would have used Vittoryxe’s full title in front of her pupils.

  ‘What is it?’ the T’En boys asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

  ‘You will sit here and practice your focusing exercises,’ Vittoryxe told them. She gave them all a hard stare, including her new choice-son. Bedutz was not quite five, but she was training him early. She’d made the mistake of letting her last choice-son get too close, and it had almost broken her heart to send him to the brotherhood at winter’s cusp.

  She would not make the same mistake again.

  ‘Gift-tutor Vittoryxe?’ Egrayne’s devotee prompted, remembering to use her title this time.

  ‘I’m coming.’ Vittoryxe looked around the training chamber. Who should she leave in charge? Arodyti was the most gifted, but she didn’t take the exercises seriously enough. ‘Kiane, you’re in charge while I’m gone.’

  The adept bustled over and listened intently as Vittoryxe explained the lessons she had planned for today. Vittoryxe was inclined to think, when she became all-mother, she would name Kiane the next gift-tutor.

  Egrayne’s devotee shifted her weight from foot to foot, radiating impatience. Vittoryxe delayed deliberately, leaving only when she considered she’d made Roskara pay for forgetting her title.

  Outside in the corridor, Roskara could not contain her excitement. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened!’

  ‘Then you’ll have to tell me.’

  The sarcasm went straight over Roskara’s head. ‘A lost sister just walked into the palace asking to see the all-mother.’

  ‘Lost sister? What lost sister?’ Vittoryxe ran through the T’En who had gone missing over the last ten to fifteen years. Just last winter they’d lost one of the inner circle, along with her devotee, on the road back to the city. ‘Is it old–’

  ‘It’s no one we know. She’s young. She’s come with a Malaunje and her choice-son.’

  ‘If she’s from another sisterhood, why did she come to us?’

  ‘I don’t know anything more about her. Egrayne sent me to fetch you.’

  Vittoryxe swept into the all-mother’s greeting chamber to find the rest of the inner circle facing a slight T’En female. Her hair had been shorn in mourning. The stranger did not look old enough to be an initiate, let alone a choice-mother. She was accompanied by a young Mala
unje woman and a boy about the same age as Vittoryxe’s new choice-son. They stood in filthy clothes that were little more than rags. Vittoryxe could not believe her eyes. How dare they appear before the all-mother of the greatest sisterhood in such a state?

  As Vittoryxe took her place beside the sisterhood’s hand-of-force, she wished she’d had time to fetch Choris, so her devotee could add to her stature. At least she stood only one remove from the all-mother, the same as Egrayne, who had taken up her position beside Aayelora’s voice-of-reason. Of all the sisterhood, only Egrayne presented a real threat to Vittoryxe’s ambition.

  So she made sure all eyes were on her as she gestured to the bedraggled T’En initiate. ‘Who is this, and why did she come to us?’

  The all-mother gestured to the stranger. ‘Go on.’

  The lost sister made the correct obeisance, with a brotherhood flourish. Seeing this, a ripple of unease passed through the inner circle.

  ‘I am Imoshen. This is my devotee, Frayvia.’ She reached around, drawing the Malaunje woman to stand at her side. At least the Malaunje knew better and tried to hang back. As though unaware of the insult she’d offered the inner circle, the stranger continued. ‘And this is my choice-son, Iraayel. All-mother Aayelora, I come to you to claim sanctuary.’

  ‘You should go to your own all-mother,’ Vittoryxe told her, ignoring her ridiculous claim that the Malaunje was her devotee. As a ploy for stature, it was laughable. If this troublemaker had such a powerful gift, she would have lived in the city and Vittoryxe would know her by sight, if not by name. As it was, Vittoryxe could not sense her gift at all; she was clearly weak, as well as a malcontent. ‘We cannot interfere with the way your all-mother runs her sisterhood. If you have a complaint, take it to your sisterhood’s inner circle.’

  The malcontent flushed. ‘I have no all-mother. I was raised by a brotherhood.’

  ‘Impossible!’ Vittoryxe snapped. ‘That would mean an all-father broke the covenant.’

  Imoshen – how dare she use that honoured name – nodded.

  A hush fell over the inner circle, then...

  ‘Raised by a brotherhood?’

  ‘A T’En girl, born to a T’En man?’

  ‘It’s not impossible, just rare. Why, I remember–’

  ‘How dare they hide a T’En girl baby!’

  ‘Which all-father broke the covenant?’ the hand-of-force demanded. Everyone fell silent. ‘Who dared to break the covenant?’

  Imoshen lifted troubled eyes, to the inner circle. ‘All-father Rohaayel.’

  ‘But...’ The hand-of-force was stunned. ‘But he is one of the more reasonable all-fathers.’

  ‘I suppose that’s why he thought he could get away it,’ the voice-of-reason whispered.

  ‘True,’ Egrayne agreed. ‘If he dared to do this, and kept her hidden for...’ – she gestured to the female – ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘And you have a choice-son?’ Vittoryxe was horrified. ‘That should never have been allowed. Choice-mothers must be adepts. They must be carefully selected for–’

  ‘There is something more important at stake, gift-tutor.’ Egrayne cut through her tirade.

  Vittoryxe fell silent, stomach churning.

  ‘If what Imoshen says is true, and we have no reason to doubt her, then news of Rohaayel’s daring will spread throughout the brotherhoods. It makes the all-mother council look weak. He broke the covenant and got away with it.’

  ‘We have his gift-enforced vow. He will pay,’ Aayelora insisted. ‘I’ll send for the all-mothers right now.’ She turned to her devotee, who was one step behind her, and whispered instructions.

  ‘We must crush Rohaayel,’ Vittoryxe said. ‘He must be made an example of before all the brotherhood leaders. We can’t appear weak. The only thing the men respect is power. To be weak is to be a victim, and T’En women are never victims.’

  At her words, the inner circle turned to look at Imoshen. She was a victim. Her bedraggled appearance confirmed it. The girl was a liability – proof that T’En men could contain and suppress women. Raised by a brotherhood, she had been exposed to their gift since birth...

  ‘She’s corrupted.’ Vittoryxe’s mind raced. ‘If what she says is true and she’s been raised by a covenant-breaking brotherhood, she’ll be addicted to the male gift. We should turn her out.’

  ‘We can’t turn her out,’ Egrayne argued. ‘She’d be at the mercy of the men, or the Mieren.’

  ‘Egrayne’s right,’ the hand-of-force agreed. ‘If the men have power over one T’En woman, they have power over all of us.’

  ‘We can’t have her amongst us,’ Vittoryxe insisted. ‘She’s corrupted.’

  ‘You can’t turn Imoshen out.’ The bedraggled Malaunje dared to speak without permission. ‘She’s a raedan.’

  ‘Raedan?’ the all-mother repeated. A raedan would greatly add to their sisterhood’s stature. Vittoryxe could hear the ambition in the all-mother’s voice. ‘The last one died over two hundred years ago.’

  Vittoryxe’s stomach curdled with jealousy. Then she saw the flaw in this ridiculous claim. ‘Rubbish, a raedan would have been able to read her captors’ emotions. She would have known the brotherhood was lying to her.’

  ‘I didn’t see their deception because I grew up with it. It was normal,’ Imoshen said. ‘Besides, my raedan gift didn’t surface until after I gave birth to the sacrare.’

  ‘You birthed a sacrare?’ Vittoryxe wanted to laugh. ‘Next you’ll be claiming you have more than one gift.’ She was so angry her body shook and her gift surged. ‘Where is this sacrare?’

  ‘He...’ Imoshen’s chin trembled as she fought back tears. ‘He died.’

  ‘Stillborn, of course.’ Vittoryxe was relieved. ‘Now, if you had birthed a healthy sacrare–’

  ‘He was perfect.’ Imoshen’s temper flashed. ‘Absolutely perfect. His father and I shared the deep-bonding. When the brotherhood came to kill us, his father gave his life so that we could escape the island, but the boat tipped. I...’ She faltered and fell silent.

  If the sisterhood accepted Imoshen, Vittoryxe would never be all-mother. She could not compete with a raedan who had birthed a sacrare. She had to destroy Imoshen’s credibility.

  ‘You heard her.’ The words spilled from Vittoryxe. ‘She admits to sharing the deep-bonding with a male. No matter how powerful she is, no matter how useful her raedan gift is... we can never trust her. I am your gift-tutor. Her gift has been polluted. She’s not one of us!’

  ‘ONE, TWO, THREE,’ Sorne said.

  On three, Izteben stood up with Sorne’s foot in his hand, propelling him straight up the wall. Sorne caught the windowsill and pulled himself up. Lucky for them, the scholar had left his shutters open. Once inside Oskane’s chamber, he signalled Izteben, who would watch the courtyard.

  In a couple of days it would be spring cusp, and the walls between this plane and the next would grow weak. Before then, King Charald would arrive with a T’En artefact to offer to the gods. The king expected a visitation from the Warrior god: at the very least a flash of blinding light, at best a vision to guide him.

  King Charald had been fighting wars since he was fifteen. He was belligerent, paranoid and deeply religious. Sorne intended to prove to the king that he had been wrong to discard his half-blood son. To do this, he needed to know which southern kingdom the king feared most. He needed to read the agents’ latest reports and catch up on Oskane’s plans for him and Izteben.

  Chalcedonia’s neighbouring kingdoms were constantly on the verge of war. They clustered around the Secluded Sea like piglets around a sow’s belly. To the east, a huge semi-circle of mountains protected the kingdoms from invasion, which meant they concentrated all their enmity on each other.

  Any sign of weakness in a neighbouring kingdom was an invitation to strike. The royal families had intermarried so many times that any of the kings could prove a claim to rule another.

  Two kingdoms had the advanta
ge of natural defences. Mountains protected Chalcedonia from the other five kingdoms on the mainland, and Ivernia was an island – actually, two islands – to the west.

  The rulers of the other kingdoms resented King Charald, and were waiting for him to die. At forty-four, he did not have many years left in him. His only son would be thirteen soon, and the kingdoms with suitable brides were vying to offer a marriage alliance.

  Any one of the six kingdoms could build a fleet and sail their army across the Secluded Sea to attack Chalcedonia. All Sorne had to do was pick the kingdom the king most feared and King Charald’s wrath would descend upon them. The thought was electrifying.

  He found what he was looking for in a message from his uncle, Matxin. A moment later, a mountain hawk called twice, then called again once more.

  Sorne swung his legs over the sill and dropped to the ground.

  Izteben steadied him. ‘The king is coming!’

  They ran to the wall. Far below, on the steep switch-back road, a party of horsemen plodded uphill, followed by the familiar cart from Enlightenment Abbey.

  ‘So, did you find anything useful?’ Izteben asked.

  ‘Baron Matxin writes that the ruler of Khitan would happily see King Charald dead. He offered Matxin an alliance and mercenaries to take the throne from Charald.’

  ‘From the king? But he’s the king!’

  ‘Matxin’s claim to the Chalcedonian throne is almost as good as Charald’s. That’s why Charald’s first wife was Matxin’s sister,’ Sorne explained. It was on the tip of his tongue to add that Queen Sorna had been his mother, but he lost his nerve.

  ‘So you’ll tell King Charald it was Khitan he conquered in your vision?’ Izteben asked.

  ‘I’ll take my cues from the king and Oskane.’

  ‘The king... here!’ Izteben gave a shiver of excitement. Then he gestured to Sorne’s hair. ‘Every time I see that white streak in your hair...’

  Sorne reached around to the back of his head. The streak grew from the place where he’d hit his head when they went down the mine.

  ‘What if the T’En artefact doesn’t appease the god?’ Izteben asked. While Izteben accepted that the thing they’d seen in the mine was one of the Seven, he refused to believe Sorne had had a vision. As he put it, Sorne was the brother he’d known all his life. Something as marvellous as a vision could not happen to him.