Mei’An was concentrating on the faces of the crowd. Her size and now a deep frown creasing her otherwise smooth features as she scanned the villagers and maidens before her began to get everyone on edge. Except the Mare Altan. No one could look at Mei’An without dropping their gaze. Even those distant at the edge of the throng felt as though the Wind Reader was facing them nose to nose. It didn't help matters when Luan, her Guard Companion suddenly stepped forward to a position just in front of Mei’An. His sword flashed into his hand from the scabbard by his side. His stance might appear casual but Antonin could see he was poised to strike. Recognising the form of the stance from those his father had taught him Antonin was instantly on edge. He quietly unslung his bow. Casually. Slowly. He didn't want to alarm anyone. He nocked a fine-head hunting arrow and put tension on the string. Scanning the surrounding buildings quickly, he knew where every nail in every wall was, and he looked for something out of place. Antonin had played with his friends in these safe streets since he was old enough to toddle. Now he looked for the unfamiliar. Whatever it was that had caused the Wind Reader and her Guard Companion to tense must be there. They were strangers to the village though, and might not recognise something as being out of place. Suddenly Antonin raised his bow and let fly the arrow in one motion. A night black raven screeched and fell amid a flutter of torn feathers from the roof peak of the stables looking onto the square from the far side. Luan whirled to face Antonin as he heard the thrum of the bow string. The arrow had already brought down its target. Luan’s intent was obvious. Antonin was within a heartbeat of death from the flashing blade of the Guard Companion.
“Hold!” Mei’An roared the command. At the same time she caught the blade in its descent. Seemingly undistracted, her gaze fixed on a point across the square, her left arm out stretched and fingers pointing she held the blade in her right. Antonin’s eyes bulged. It was impossible. Her hand should have been sliced like soft butter by such a blade. Yet she held it and her Guard Companion motionless. Suddenly from her left hand she unleashed a bolt of blinding light that flashed into the crowd by the stable. People were scrambling over each other and shouting and pushing to clear space around the person struck by the bar of searing light. That had been a man, now shrieking in agony and still upright. He had become a walking torch, the flames consuming his entire body as yet he remained on his feet lurching forward. The apparition, once a man, alternated between howls of purest agony and guttural roars of frustrated cursing, as it tried to cross the square toward the inn steps where stood Mei’An.
Mei’An released the blade she had held. Not a mark on her hand betrayed what she had done. She had resumed her normal size at the instant Antonin had unleashed his arrow.
“There is our enemy Luan. Not the boy. Go – finish it. I will not give these good people more to fear than I can help.”
Without so much as a glance at Antonin, still awaiting the fall of the blade it seemed, Luan stalked out to meet the creature lurching and stumbling across the square.
It saw him coming, although none could guess how it still lived, nor how it could see. Luan knew it now for what it was. Or what it had been. A servant of the Dark Lord.. A soulless one. So called because they had given their very souls to the Lord of the Dark in exchange for the promise of wealth and power when he escaped his prison. It was a tool of the Dark Lord and nothing more. He fed on their souls and steadily gained his power. A poor exchange indeed.
Antonin saw movement near a chimney stack across the way. His second arrow brought down another raven in a tumble of feathers. Now the thing that had been blazing in the square began to stumble about directionless. The fierce flames arising from it still giving off clouds of soot and creating a stink that had strong men covering their noses. The crowd in the square had pressed well back leaving it almost empty. Luan saw a moment as the flames abated and the remnants of the man stood still and in a heartbeat had struck off its head. The still upright body took a few halting steps and toppled to the ground. The head rolled in the dust and continued to mouth silent curses as the light in its eyes slowly dimmed.
“It will be a long time dying,” Said Luan to no one in particular. “unlike one who nearly met the Creator this day.” So saying he looked directly at Antonin as he cleaned his sword on some discarded hay and slipped it back into its sheath.
Mei’An was looking thoughtfully at Antonin as calm returned to the crowd. With a raised eyebrow – Antonin had seen that look before from village women – she said in a light tone."So you know a Dark One’s watcher when you see one my young friend?” The statement was a question.
“I know only that something had caused you and your Companion,” he glanced at Luan. “To be on guard. There are no ravens in this village so the removal of those two – well certainly the first one, seemed the natural thing to do. I could see nothing else out of place.” Antonin almost mumbled the last. He was still a young man and had no experience with beautiful women. His friends of course were of both sexes, but they were friends and the girls he had grown up with. He didn't know if they were beautiful. He never thought about it. They were just his friends. He knew Mei’An was beautiful though. He also knew from his own limited experience that the questioning raise of the eye brow meant the Wind Reader was now giving him her full attention.
It was only of late that some of the mothers of the village and nearby farms had raised just such an eyebrow at him, accompanied by statement like "So your Age Day comes after next harvest young Master Antonin?” Even, “I saw you walking with a girl last evening on the common young Master Antonin, was that my young…?” The questions to his father were even more alarming. "Setting aside some land for young Master Antonin are you Cable Ruhul?” Antonin certainly knew what that meant. He would mumble his apologies and escape as quickly as feet would carry him.
Women were very strange and he thought it best to avoid the mothers of his friends where possible. He could not escape this one though. He felt as though his feet had grown roots into the veranda planks.
“Do you know young farmer, that those ravens were the eyes of the Dark Spawn that now lays in your village square. It is well that you are so quick or I might not be here now. Normally I know when the servants of the Dark are near, but the crowd gave this one much cover. It was only the first bird falling at its feet that gave it away. If the second one had escaped it would have returned directly to Sara Sara. We must make urgent plans.” Mei’An half turned to the village square.
“Riadia, bring Catharina to me please. Instruct the other Maidens to prepare for the defence of the village, and themselves for battle. Have someone remove that stinking mess and bury it deep in a pit far from the village. Antonin, Luan – with me.” So saying she strode into the inn, men and women alike pressing back to give her passage.
“Innkeeper,” she said to Daga Domain “please have a village feast day prepared. Mark the day with festivities. It will be the last such day for a long time.”
“Wind Reader,” called a farmer. “Is the danger past then?”
“For today it is good farmer. You and others should help Master Domain set up festivities. Why, you even have a Trader in your midst, and with everyone from far and wide in town his wares will not go far I think.”
Mei’An smiled to herself as she saw the everyday ideas of festivals and bargaining with a Trader take hold of the thoughts of the villagers.
Soon there was much going on as people began to organise the trappings of a fair. Even some of the Mare Altan were pressed into service by their kin. Most though kept to their task of setting up the defensive perimeters around the village. Smaller groups were sent out into the surrounding plain on scouting parties. The gathering darkness was no hindrance. The star filled night sky would give plenty of light.
“Master Domain, do you have a private dining room, away from all the noise?” Asked Mei’An.
"Surely, I do Mistress Wind Reader and welcome you do be to use it. This way if you please.” Master Domain led the
party along the hall by the common room to a smaller room dominated by a large round table. There were high backed chairs all around it and a fire crackled in the hearth. The room was well lit with candles and lamps that had been hurried in by the serving girls.
Antonin took a look behind him as he followed the Wind Reader into the inn. Darkness had by now fallen. Only a red tinge along the horizon showing the passage of the sun. The day's events had seemed to hurry the passing of time, and were it not for the crystal clear sky even this late Antonin would not have seen the flight of ravens. High up and silhouetted against the brighter sky they were winging away in the direction of The Dragon Spine. Antonin could not begin to guess at the implications. The village square was falling into deep shadow, until men began to bring out burning torches to light the work to be done. With deep reservations Antonin turned and followed the others into the private dining room.
Mei’An had moved around the table and taken up a chair facing the door. Luan, her Guard Companion took up a position beside the door. His face stony and expressionless, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the sword at his side, the flickering light glinting off the hilt of the other strapped to his back where it protruded above his right shoulder, he would let nothing and no one through the door who wasn't invited.
Antonin entered reluctantly. His whole family was now in town and preparing for a festival. He thought he would much rather be with them than here with a Wind Reader and her Guard Companion. This was an exciting day and no doubt stories would be told about it for years to come. If not for generations. This day might even make it into the travellers' tales and spread across the entire country. Antonin was a young man and wanted to be with his friends in the thick of the preparations.
Riadia entered with Catharina, and Mei’An motioned them to a place facing Antonin across the table. Riadia was dressed in her official capacity. That is she had put on a full skirt of dark brown, and donned her jewellery of necklaces and rings. Thin chains of gold and silver adorned her long hair, and a wide belt of silver circled her waist. Her blouse was pure white and of the finest spun cotton, imported all the way from the capital of a distant country by a Trader. She had parted with the battle axe of a Catharsis warrior for that material, and it had only been worn twice before in all the years since she had made it. Mei’An appreciated the gesture being made by Riadia. She was being honoured by the woman. Mei’An offered polite comments on the whiteness of the material, and the skill of the seamstress in making it. Riadia permitted herself a small smile. Compliments were rare and not unwelcome.
Catharina was still dressed as she had been when out on the plain with Antonin. She still bore the signs of her unhorsing, fingering her scalp carefully where she had cracked it in falling. Antonin caught her eye and grinned. Mei’An waited in silence. There were others to come although she did not know who. It would be interesting to see who it was. Antonin’s quick grin at Catharina had not gone unnoticed by Mei’An. Nor had Catharina’s fleeting grin in return. Catharina though was in the company of her clan chief, and Riadia had not gained that position by smiling at the boys. Catharina swallowed and kept her eyes down. Riadia was head of all the septs, as well as the clan. Not only her in the village but across the whole Star Field Plain and Da Altai. A woman of great power. Normally Catharina would only find herself in the presence of this woman if she was in serious trouble, or being honoured for hard won battle victory.
“Well,” thought Mei’An, watching this little play. “All might change before too much longer.” She waited patiently. Some time passed. Antonin began to fidget and Catharina kicked him in the shin under the table. At least he though it must have been her, but she hadn't so much as glanced at him. Riadia knew the Wind Reader was waiting for something. Someone. She too was good at waiting and would not press the moment.
The recent display in the square had brought home to all that troubled times were ahead. Riadia knew that somehow Antonin and Catharina were at the heart of what lay ahead. She could not help wondering how, but she had not reached her present status by being impatient. Riadia sat, hands folded in her lap and looking straight ahead. To any who might look at her she seemed lost in thought. Riadia had considerable age upon her but the only evidence seemed to be the grey at her temples, and small lines about her eyes. Riadia still fought with the Mare Altan when necessary, and her life was every bit as hard as that of the girls new to the ranks. There were others of lesser rank of course, but all earned their positions through the unanimous selection of the clan members. Only after reaching leadership did they receive full initiation into the hidden talents of the Wind Readers. It was a very rare event, and the Wind Readers had to be located. They never came to the village. Always, those who would be trained had to journey to find them. The women of the Mare Altan were never refused, although it was whispered that there had been some long ago.
Mei’An knew all this. There were very few of her kind in the world. Perhaps she herself had given the limited training to this Riadia. The training was meant to enhance already latent abilities in all the females of these high plains. Mei’An had often thought she might try to discover why it was that this ability was born into these people. She pondered that now. She could sense the power in the woman Riadia, and also to a lesser degree in Catharina. There was something…. from Antonin too, but she could not put a finger on it. Different, yet the same. She dared not think that she had chanced upon the very descendants of the ancient line that reached right back to the Dragon Throne. It was said that the Lord of the Dragon Armies had been the last male born with the Power of the Wind, and no one knew exactly where he had ended his days.
Time dragged on. The sounds of merriment filled the night and the light from bonfires lit the village green. Those in the common room had helped the innkeeper move his barrel rack out onto the green. Thirsty work after the excitement of the earlier day. Laughter bubbled to the surface as the tensions eased and Master Domain’s good ale began to flow freely. Someone struck up a tune on a hammered dulcimer, and was soon accompanied by a player on a stringed instrument that looked like a large melon sliced in half and attached to a long pole. A bow string was drawn back and forth across the taught strings and the sounds carried far into the night. People were dancing, and though out all ran the children laughing and yelling in delight at being up so late. The people of the district were farmers, blacksmiths, wheel wrights, builders and wives and mothers. Their daily life was simple as they worked out a living on the wide plains. Although none complained – there was no thought of it, a moments rest and merriment with friends was a welcome break from the endless round.
People crowded around the huge wagon of the Trader. He had dropped a plank board side to form a raised stage upon which he now strode. Indeed he had much to trade and there had not been a trader through the village in more years than anyone cared to remember. The children in the throng had eyes as big as saucers. The Trader was in full voice. A theatrical tone and volume guaranteed to carry to the edge of the common. He had laces from the mysterious lands of the East. From places no one had heard of. Fired pots and dishes of porcelain that rang like bells as the Trader flicked their rims with his fingers. The patterns were of flowers and willow trees and strange people in long flowing robes. Some were purchased and would be put on display on mantles. None would be given ordinary daily use. The Trader spoke of people with raven black almond eyes and black hair that hung straight. Not a curl, and skin like burnished gold. He told of the distances that he had transported the goods. Just so that the people of this village alone could be the first to sample his wares. Wondrous material they made as well. The thread produced by caterpillars that turned into butterflies. None actually believed that of course, but it was not only the children he held spellbound with his tales. These bolts of material the Trader called silk were dyed in the colours of the rainbows. Gasps escaped the villagers mouths as they were brought forth. Such colours had never been seen. Even in the yellow light of the bonfires the material
shimmered and flowed. None of the women could think of what they could use such material for, but every last one wanted a length. Perhaps ribbons or festival cloths. Who knew. It was too wondrous to pass.
The disbelieving laughter at the Traders tales was good natured though and if it took a little girls fancy to think that butterflies spun the thread into material that glowed in the night, then the Trader too enjoyed a good laugh. He knew the truth of it. He would not have believed it himself if he had not seen it with his own eyes. He had also seen what had happened to the Trader who had tried to get out of that far country with a box of the tiny grubs that spun the thread. The country of Hua Guo it was called. Difficult to pronounce, just as their language was difficult to grasp. But the language of a Trader was understood everywhere. The Traders were the only outsiders let into the country, and it had been a considerable surprise when Mei’An and her Guard Companion Luan had sought passage with him on his return journey out of that country. He had been even more surprised when he had found himself agreeing to take them half way across the world to end up in this place.
The Dragons of Sara Sara Page 5