by Lucy Hounsom
Medavle could only stare, his heart pounding fiercely.
‘We will unmake history,’ the eldest said. ‘And remake it to our liking.’
The dualakat began to dance, while three others held on to Medavle. They wove an intricate pattern, their bandaged feet soft on the garden’s lush grass. A light began to spread in the wake of each, reminding Medavle of the way he’d used his own life force to bind himself to Kierik. Perhaps the Khronostians somehow derived their power through the same means; perhaps that was why it exacted such a terrible toll from their bodies.
The eldest spread his arms again. ‘Come, Yadin,’ he said, ‘we go to Khronosta, there to await the Kala’s coming.’
‘They won’t follow,’ he replied, his eyes beginning to water from the speed of the dance. ‘They won’t know where to find me.’
‘The Kala knows,’ the eldest said. ‘We will force him to come to us. He understands your potential … and your danger.’
Before Medavle could argue further, figures burst from the house, running towards him across the dark lawns.
‘Medavle!’ Kyndra cried and he imagined how the scene would look to her – him, in the grasp of the dualakat, as others danced their bright pattern around them. Through a haze of light, he glimpsed her face and was surprised at the emotion he saw there. The Khronostians moved faster and he began to feel squeezed, as if two great forces were determined to trap him between them. Terror followed; he remembered those dualakat faces he’d seen, the horrible price exacted by their manipulation of time. What would it do to him?
I’d pay any price, he thought, if I could only see Isla smile again.
‘No!’ he heard Kyndra shout and for a moment Medavle was torn, his hand on the flute at his waist. She had been his hope, but a hope for an empty vengeance. Here was a hope for life, something far more precious, a hope that cost a sacrifice, a betrayal. Medavle looked into the eyes of the eldest as the twin forces squeezed tighter and tighter. Slowly his hand uncurled from the flute and fell at his side. The light grew blinding and he knew no more.
29
Cymenza, Acre
Char
Char’s eyes were patterned with after-images. In the darkness behind each blink, he could still see the glowing pattern imprisoning Medavle; he remembered the terror in the man’s face. What were the Khronostians doing here? How had they tracked them so swiftly?
‘Dualakat,’ Rogan hissed and the word brought Char out of himself and back to the now tranquil garden. ‘Here.’ The iarl scowled. ‘How did they get in?’
‘Evading whatever lookouts you’ve posted wouldn’t have been a problem for them,’ Char said. ‘Neither would bypassing locked gates and the like. They can choose where and when to appear.’ He glanced at Kyndra. She seemed to be in shock, her gaze fixed on the spot where Medavle had last been.
Rogan whistled high and sharp, a sound that – in seconds – summoned nondescript figures from the house and gardens. ‘Check the perimeter,’ he ordered and they melted away into the twilight. ‘I don’t like surprises, not in my own home.’
‘Why did they take him?’ Kyndra said blankly, looking at Char. ‘They’ve only ever wanted you.’
‘Because through him, they have the means to remake the world.’
The voice was like the night: husky, accented, concealing. Kyndra jumped and, next to her, Irilin did too, but Char’s breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice, had grown up hearing it, chastising and praising him, soothing him after a bad dream. Once, when he was very small, it had sung to him. He hadn’t heard her sing for so many years.
Ma strode up the sloping hill towards him. Her kali sticks hung at her waist. Thick hair tumbled free from a headscarf. Her dark skin gleamed in the light from the house, a gold torque at her throat.
‘Ma,’ he whispered.
Rogan took a step forward and Char shot him an icy glare. He found himself hurrying across the grass. Part of him wanted to fall into her arms, another part remembered the terrible night he’d left Na Sung Aro and wanted to rail at her, to demand answers.
‘Hello, Boy.’ Ma’s eyes travelled over him, as if checking him for injuries. They touched on his forearm and widened slightly at the thin scar – all that remained of the wound which had nearly killed him. ‘You move swiftly,’ she said. ‘I almost lost your trail in the city.’
‘You’ve been tracking me?’
‘What else would I do?’ Ma cast a fierce glance at the empty ground where the Khronostians had danced only minutes before. ‘Son of my heart,’ she said, ‘they will not have you.’
Char’s eyes prickled, but he blinked angrily and took a step away from her. ‘Why not?’ he asked, hearing his voice harden. ‘You’re one of them.’
‘Yes,’ she said simply.
He could feel the others’ shock. It mirrored his own. ‘You … you don’t deny it?’
Ma walked over to Kyndra. ‘You are the Starborn,’ she said, gaze flicking to the glowing tattoo on Kyndra’s cheek. ‘Thank you for protecting my son.’ She paused. ‘You know not the service you’ve done him.’
Kyndra looked a little taken aback. ‘Char mentioned you. He didn’t say you were from Khronosta.’
‘I have done my best to forget it.’
‘You don’t look Khronostian,’ Kait said, sizing up the other woman. ‘All the ones we’ve seen so far have been –’ She gestured at her face.
‘The dualakat.’ Ma shook her head. ‘Not everyone born in Khronosta follows the path of the warrior.’
‘You did,’ Char said. ‘“The greatest of the dualakat” – that’s what those Khronostians claimed back in ‘Aro.’
She shrugged. ‘An exaggeration. I was but twelve.’
‘Twelve? How young were you when you began training?’
‘Six – that is when the first selection is made. Another selection comes at nine and the last at twelve.’ Ma looked down at her gloved hands. ‘Accompanying the dualakat and the eldest to confront the dragons was my reward for passing. My first and last duty as a warrior of Khronosta.’
Char met Kyndra’s eyes and knew she was thinking the same as he. ‘So they were telling the truth,’ he murmured. ‘Khronosta is responsible for the Lleu-yelin’s disappearance. Why?’
Ma’s expression became guarded. ‘I could not say. But when I refused to help, my people turned on me. I escaped.’
‘And they let you go?’ Kait asked. She stood with her arms folded, her long hair pulled over one shoulder. ‘A girl who was destined to be the greatest of them? I’d have given chase.’
‘They did,’ Ma said. ‘But I wasn’t called the greatest for nothing.’ She matched Kait stare for stare. ‘Every skill they taught me, every trick – I used them to vanish.’
‘That’s when you found me,’ Char put in.
Ma looked at him and then away. ‘Yes, that’s when I found you.’
‘You’ve been hiding from Khronosta ever since. That’s why we had to stay with Genge.’
‘I am sorry, Boy. I needed a home on the move, a place where, once you proved yourself, nobody asked questions. I needed somewhere I could train you to fight against the day they found us.’
Char frowned. ‘You knew they would?’
‘I feared it. Every year brought rumours of more dualakat murders. Their reach was growing. People began whispering the name of Khronosta. I knew it wouldn’t be long before our paths crossed again.’
‘Because they began searching for this Kala?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Ma.’ Char went to her, took her gloved hands in his own. ‘Please –’ he was surprised to hear desperation in his voice – ‘tell me I’m not their leader.’
She looked at him, her eyes sad. ‘You are not.’
‘But …’It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. When the Khronostians had named him Kala back in Na Sung Aro, she’d not refuted it. ‘What about the rage?’ he whispered, aware of the others listening. ‘What about my blood?’
&n
bsp; Ma slowly shook her head.
‘Then …’ Char gripped her hands tighter. ‘How can I convince the Khronostians?’
‘There is a way,’ she said softly and pulled her hands free. ‘We must rescue your friend,’ she said, turning to Kyndra. ‘He cannot know his own importance, or what he is to the eldest.’
‘What will they do to him?’ Nediah asked.
‘They will use him as an anchor,’ Ma said. ‘His life is a link to the distant past, to the time of the Conquest, to Solinaris. They will make him the first piece in their plan to topple the empire.’
‘You mean they could go back that far in time?’ Nediah said, incredulous. ‘They could change the past?’
‘They could,’ Ma said. ‘Your friend – they will use him to scout the past just as you would a new and unknown region. I fear they will soon have the power to touch it. We don’t have long.’
‘How do you know about Medavle being a Yadin?’ Kyndra asked her suddenly.
‘Following your trail, I overheard four dualakat,’ Ma replied evenly. ‘You thoroughly succeeded in unnerving them, Starborn.’ Her smile was thin. ‘They are unused to encountering a person beyond their control.’
‘Does that mean they can’t harm me?’
‘I would advise against complacency,’ Ma said. ‘With a large enough group, they may be able to trap you. Even a Starborn would be hard pressed to escape from a pocket of dead time.’
With all the talk of Khronosta, Char had almost forgotten Rogan, standing uncertainly on the edge of the group. Remembering their last meeting in Na Sung Aro, he could hardly believe this Rogan was the same person. He watched as the iarl approached Ma, looking a good deal less sure of himself. She gave him a pointed glance. ‘Mines, Iarl Rogan? Some of your soft-footed servants look very familiar.’
Rogan pursed his lips. ‘Perceptive as always, Ma. I do own mines, in fact, but they aren’t staffed by slaves. Every one I’ve bought from Genge is given the same choice: pledge themselves to the cause I serve, or work until their debt is paid. Once it is, they go free.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ Char asked. ‘Won’t those you set free spread word of this Republic of yours?’
‘None hear that name until they have sworn. I suspect they believe my cause the Defiant’s.’ Rogan frowned at him. ‘By grace of the company you keep – and that’s a story I have yet to hear – you were an exception. But from the things I’ve seen and heard tonight, it’s not Sartyan interference I have to worry about.’
‘We cannot delay,’ Ma said to Kyndra. ‘I can lead you to Khronosta, but the temple’s current location is a three-week ride away, in a place called Samaya.’
‘Isn’t that an old Sartyan watchtower?’ Rogan said. ‘Abandoned, if I recall.’
Ma nodded. ‘It is dangerous to leave the Yadin alone with the eldest.’ Her expression darkened. ‘He is mad and his madness is contagious. I would not want it to spread to your friend.’
‘Why would you help us?’ Kyndra asked her. She’d said little so far, but Char noticed her face tighten at the mention of madness.
‘Because they are my people,’ Ma answered after a moment. ‘And I have been running long enough.’
‘Wait,’ Rogan said sharply. ‘The Starborn and I have business to conclude in Cymenza. My superiors travel swiftly, but they won’t arrive for another two days.’
Ma glowered at him. ‘There are greater things at stake, Iarl Rogan. We must rescue the Yadin before Khronosta learns too much from him. If they find a means to change what has been without destabilizing the whole of time, you might not even have an empire to plot against.’
Rogan stared at her, his mouth slightly open. ‘That’s a bad thing?’ he asked eventually.
‘Instead of Sartya, you would have an ascendant Khronosta with all of time at their fingertips.’ Ma wrapped her arms around herself, as if chilled by the thought. ‘Total control. The smallest change can lead to the greatest upheaval. Think – if just one of your ancestors ceased to be or if their path strayed a little from the course it has taken, there would be no House Dukett … no Rogan.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘They could unmake anyone.’
Rogan had paled. ‘You said they didn’t have the power.’
‘I said they didn’t have the power yet.’
The iarl didn’t reply. He stared at the black trees, silhouetted against the rising moon. It was full dark now and the insects of the Cymenza night had begun to chirrup their shrill chorus.
Finally, Rogan sighed. ‘If the threat is as great as you claim and your mission this vital, the Republic will assist. You shall have military support, supplies, whatever you need to reach Samaya swiftly. I will send the necessary messages.’
‘Thank you, Rogan,’ Ma said without expression. ‘It would be welcome.’
‘Come, let’s return to the house,’ the iarl beckoned them. ‘I can’t stand those damn cicadas.’
‘You had a way to convince the Khronostians that I’m not the Kala,’ Char said to Ma as he walked beside her.
‘I do,’ she replied heavily. ‘When I am done with them, Boy, they will not hound you further.’
Char wasn’t sure what to make of it. She sounded as if she meant to kill them all. Ma might be good, but she couldn’t take on the whole of the dualakat. He was just about to step into the parlour when a bright shape swooped down out of the night. Char cursed, ducked instinctively, but the thing soared right on over him to land on Kyndra’s shoulder.
‘An envoi,’ she said, clearly surprised. ‘Are you for me?’
It was a bird, Char realized, a raven carved as if from solid light. It hopped onto Kyndra’s hand and promptly dissolved. Astonished, he watched words bubble out of the molten silver.
‘It’s from Brégenne. She –’ Kyndra frowned as she read. ‘That’s odd. She wants to know about the Kingswold Knights.’
‘Where is she?’ Irilin and Nediah both said together.
‘Ümvast, when she sent it.’
‘So Gareth went home. Did she mention him?’ Irilin’s voice dropped. ‘Did she mention Shika?’
The words faded and Kyndra shook her head. ‘She said something went wrong with the last envoi. I don’t think she knows.’
‘Oh,’ Irilin said. She swallowed. ‘How is Gareth?’
She’s worried about him.’
‘It’s the gauntlet, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. They think they know what it is – part of a pair crafted over five hundred years ago by a man called Kingswold. He founded the knights.’ Kyndra looked around at them all, her face framed by the dark fall of her hair. Char found himself staring at it, candlelight catching in its red strands. As if she felt his gaze, she turned to meet it and her eyes were the eyes of a Starborn, depthless as the void. He suppressed a shiver, but he didn’t look away.
‘The knights were killed at Kalast,’ Kyndra said, ‘slaughtered in a battle with Sartya. I was –’ She stopped. ‘I mean, Kierik was there, but he arrived too late.’ She looked down. ‘Brégenne says that Kingswold’s other gauntlet was lost in the battle. They need to find it.’
‘Or what?’ Irilin asked, anxiously twining her fingers together.
‘The gauntlets are cursed so that they can’t be worn separately. Brégenne thinks it’s only because Gareth’s a Wielder that he’s still alive.’
‘Who’s Gareth?’ Char asked.
‘Our friend,’ Kyndra said shortly. Her expression turned introspective. ‘If the story’s true, I wonder how Gareth’s gauntlet ended up in Naris.’
Rogan raised a hand. ‘Wait a moment. This happened in Acre?’
‘A place called Kalast,’ Kyndra said. ‘Have you heard of it?’
Rogan grunted. ‘No. Is it a city?’
‘It was at the height of the empire – between Lycorash and Parth.’
‘Lycorash was renamed Sarterion,’ Rogan said, ‘but most people call it by its old name out of Sartyan earshot. And I’ve been to Parth.’
‘Kalast was about equi
distant between the two,’ Kyndra said, holding her hands apart. ‘Is there nothing there now?’
‘Yes,’ Char said suddenly, his skin prickling with the thought. ‘Not a city though,’ he added when Kyndra turned to look at him. ‘There are some ruins on the far side of the Deadwood. I heard stories about them. They’re called Ben-haugr.’
Rogan frowned. ‘I thought they were burial mounds,’ he said, ‘but I suppose there could be ruins beneath them. I wouldn’t want to be the one to find out.’
‘Why not?’ Kyndra asked.
Char favoured her with a dark grin. ‘You know in stories where they say none who venture there ever return? Well, in Ben-haugr’s case, it’s true.’
‘Why would people go there, then?’ Irilin said.
‘Treasure,’ Char suggested, ‘renown, a bet … people aren’t smart.’
Kyndra’s brow furrowed. ‘It could have something to do with Kingswold and the massacre of the knights. How far is it?’
‘From here, I’d say a six-week journey on horseback,’ Rogan said. ‘Quickest way is through the Deadwood, though it’s home to some unsavoury types.’
‘Gareth’s still in Mariar,’ Irilin said despondently. ‘It could take him a month to get even this far. What if he can’t hold out that long?’
‘Brégenne’s with him,’ Kyndra said. ‘She’ll make sure he gets there.’
‘But she’ll need a map, directions,’ Irilin argued. ‘And if this place is dangerous, she should be warned.’
‘We can send an envoi just before dawn,’ Nediah stepped in. ‘It’s tricky, but I’ll teach you how. With your Lunar power letting it travel at night, it’ll reach Brégenne in a few days.’ Char heard his voice catch on the woman’s name.
‘I wish we could help them,’ Irilin said, looking at Kyndra.