by Shannah Jay
Herra watched them fondly. 'Thank you, Brother,' she murmured. 'They have exactly the right attitude to battle and death. They’ll greatly strengthen our side's morale.'
Quall came across to her. 'Greetings, Elder Sister.'
She simply held out her arms and as he moved closer, hugged him. 'Never hesitate to greet me properly,' she scolded softly. 'Do you think I've grown proud and arrogant in my old age?'
'Old? You? Ha!' For she looked no older, while he knew his hair had thinned, there was a stiffness in his joints in the mornings, and he’d slowed down as a fighter.
Herra turned to beam at everyone who had gathered that evening and they beamed back. Nothing was as infectious as happiness. She paused for a moment on that thought, nodding. She would, she decided, put off her announcement just a little longer and let everyone enjoy this last carefree time to the full.
In the end, she had to climb up on a rock and create a small thunderclap of sound before she could get everyone's attention. 'Dear friends and Kindred,' she told those standing around watching the noisy reunion, 'these are the people of the Sandrims, Quinna's people, come to help us fight Those of the Serpent.' She could see heads nodding in satisfaction, for the newcomers looked what they were, a people bred to fighting. 'If you will allow those of us who went questing together to spend an evening renewing old friendships, then I promise you that tomorrow, I shall introduce Those of Quequere properly to you all and we shall start working out together how best they can help us.'
People nodded and smiled, walking away slowly, chatting about the sudden arrival of the newcomers. In the end, the only ones left were the small group who’d fled Tenebrak to sow the seeds of resistance across the Twelve Claims, and a few others, mainly their children, who hovered uncertainly, not knowing whether to stay or go.
Katia and Davred were there, and hesitating by them their two tall sons, as well as another much younger son, Rendor, and a daughter, Herranna. It was Katia's secret grief that she had one daughter still in Temple Tenebrak under stasis - Siri-Soo, who was little more than a baby. One day, she always told herself, not allowing herself to dwell on this private pain, one day I shall find you again, dear child.
'Should we leave, Mother?' Alaran asked.
'No. Stay with us.' She gave him a quick hug and smiled at the others.
Quedras came up to them, full of questions. He looked at Erlic and Alaran and frowned, as if he almost recognised them.
Davred said quietly. 'These are the twin sons born in the Sandrims. They grew up overnight in the Tanglewoods.'
'Overnight?' Quedras shuddered at the memory of that warm green prison. Yes, anything could happen there. He’d seen no place like it, either in the Sandrims or in the long trek across the wilder parts of the Twelve Claims. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be.
He didn't allow himself to dwell on the memory of South Vale, though his travels had only taught
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him to love his home more. If fate and Quequere willed it, he’d return and spend the rest of his life there; if not, he’d die bravely and take as many of the enemy with him as he could. He saw Davred looking at him questioningly. 'Ha! No wonder those two seemed familiar. They don't look like you -
though maybe Alaran is a bit like Katia.'
He took each of the twins' hand in turn and clasped it in his own. 'And have you children of your own now?' he asked them. In the Sandrims, folk bore their children young, so they’d be strong enough to protect them until they had grown up.
'I have two little ones,' Alaran said, 'and a wife called Laria, but Erlic hasn't found a mate yet.'
Erlic smiled, his silver eyes glinting in the sunlight. He knew and Alaran did, too, that he couldn’t marry, or even love, a human woman. He was of the deleff as well as of humankind. And as the years passed, he’d become more a deleff as he remembered his past. He wasn’t only of the deleff, but one of those who had gone on before. Desperate times needed desperate measures and he’d volunteered for the painful transition across the alignments back to Sunrise.
He couldn't remember everything while he was here, and perhaps he never would, perhaps it would be too dangerous. But one day he would re-cross the alignments, that he knew as surely as the sun rose each morning.
A hybrid, he sometimes called himself in his own mind. They’d had a word for that on Old Earth, his father had said once, a mule, an offspring of two species which couldn’t itself reproduce. When mention of this saddened Alaran, who adored his two small sons, Erlic would make light of it. 'In my next life,' he always said to his twin, 'I shall have many young.' For he had no doubt of the many lives to come. Had he not already crossed the alignments once?
Benjan came up to join the newcomers, his arm lightly around Carryn's shoulders. Prime Craftsman now, even in his exile, he’d sent out orders for all of the Third Rank of the Hashite Guild to join them in the High Alder that summer, and had invited anyone from the two other ranks who cared to come.
Or, if it seemed better to the Hashite Assassins and Mercenaries, they could stay where they were and harass the huge army of Serpent followers as it spread like a blight across the land. There would be no payment for that, though, only the satisfaction of a mutual enemy crushed and the honour of the Guild upheld.
The mantle that Viran had passed to him sat well on Benjan's broad shoulders, but some folk nowadays found his presence just a little too awesome, and people tended to treat him with respect and listen quietly when he spoke. All except his eldest daughter, and she treated no one and nothing with respect. A small quicksilver child, Jennath Nel-Carryn, with her mother's dark hair and her father's serious eyes.
For a moment Fiana hesitated to come forward from the Sandrims crowd, for she felt so different to the Fiana who’d gone questing with Herra and been called to become Quequere's Voice. She waited for a lull in the spate of greetings and then slipped quietly through the crowd and tugged at Herra's blue Sister's gown. 'Quequere released me.'
Herra opened her arms once again and Fiana walked into them. 'Dear child. Oh, my dear, dear child!' She held Fiana at arm's length and nodded, giving her luminous smile. 'You are fully healed.'
'Thanks to Quequere.'
'Do you remember your time with him?'
'Some of it. After I was healed, anyway. He's a fascinating being. He's working with us now, Herra.
He'll do all he can, if you will only make sure that some of the battle is fought on rocky ground.'
Herra nodded. Another ally. It was a relief to share a heavy burden like this one.
Fiana touched Herra's blue robe with one fingertip. 'You found someone to make up the material again, then?' She lifted her hand and ran one finger lightly over the padded headband.
'Yes. An old weaver who came here as a refugee. It's a joy to him in his declining years to fabricate our material again and to train apprentices to do the same.' Herra stroked her gown. 'And I will confess to you, Fiana, that it's a joy to me to wear my robes again.'
Joy, she thought - and not for the first time - that is the key. I must fill them all with joy until it overflows. She chuckled, 'Though some of the women prefer to wear a blue tunic and trousers now, as the men do, and we also have forest garb in a grey-green colour that blends better with the foliage.'
Fiana was puzzled. 'That amuses you?'
'Not exactly. It's Cheral's disapproval that amuses me. Nothing will persuade her that a Sister looks right in anything but a flowing blue robe. Cheral doesn’t even own forest garb now.'
Fiana joined in the laughter. 'I can just imagine what she says.' She looked around. 'Is Jonner not here? And Narla?'
'They will be in a few days. They go out trading regularly in the northern settlements. A new trading circuit. Not the sort of goods Jonner used to deal in, but he likes to keep his hand in. We have a lot of new settlements now, you know. And several groups of traders who keep us in touch with them.
Sometimes they use the portals, too. The deleff do
what they can to help us - in their own way.'
***
When Jonner and Narla did arrive, their wagon showed signs of an attack, Narla had been wounded in the arm and they were both shaken by how close they’d come to disaster in a small town on the borders of the Twelve Claims.
'The Serpent seems to be getting more powerful lately,' Jonner told Herra. 'I'm not going back to that town again. They waited till we were settled in the square before they brought their fighters into town to attack us, so that our deleff wouldn’t feel the aura of violence and take fright. If it hadn't been for our deleff - ' he shuddered, 'we'd be dead. We were right in the middle of trading when the deleff started to act strangely. Of course we packed up quickly and tried to leave, but we wouldn't have managed it without them.'
The new generation of deleff didn’t flee at the first sign of violence, but stood their ground and let their wings clear a path for their trading companions, and any others who wished to escape with them.
'We'll talk about it tomorrow,' Herra said. 'But tonight we're celebrating.'
As she’d hoped, Jonner and Narla were diverted from their own woes by the news of Quedras's arrival, and as soon as Narla had been healed, they came across to catch up with their old friends from the Sandrims. In fact, the whole evening until quite late was filled with the joy of reunions and with the pleasure of Quedras and his companions at being not only welcomed, but drawn into the command group, which eagerly sought their skills.
The next evening, however, after the Gathering, when all the day's work was over, Herra asked the command group to assemble in the meeting hall and took the opportunity to speak to them all. It couldn’t be delayed any longer.
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'Dear friends, the time has come to make our final preparations. Those of the Serpent have been making their way across the land since the spring. Their greed and cruelty have slowed them down, for they cannot pass any village by without trying to take it or sack it. But now they’ve reached the north of Garshlian and are waiting there for those from the Halani Claims. We're not sure how many will join them, but we think fewer than they expect.'
'What about Dyandra?' a voice called.
'In the north of Dyandra people are indifferent to the Serpent, but alas, they're not eager to join us, either. In the south of Dyandra, communities are divided and there will be a harvest of sorrow in that land, with kinfolk fighting one another. But no large armies will leave to swell the Serpent's ranks, at least.'
She took a deep breath and waited till the murmuring died down, then held up her hand. But before she could speak, a light began to flicker just outside the hall, a blue light that heralded the arrival of a sled of SS'Habi. A new Elder rode it now, for the Elder SS'Habi they had known in Dsheresh Vale had died recently. This Elder was easy to pick from the others, even for those unfamiliar with the SS'Habi, for he was larger than the other spider-like creatures on the sled and his soft velvet fur was more yellow than grey.
'Deleff assk that you hold meeting outside, near rocky ground,' the Elder SS'Habi announced.
'Alignment iss good thiss morning. Wish to share thiss moment. Quequere will also be with us.
Pleasse.'
'Of course.' Annoyed with herself for not thinking of that, then amused at herself for expecting to be omniscient, Herra sent word that everyone in the settlement should join them and led the way outside. Cheral bustled along behind her to keep an eye on the novices, for each year now brought a willing crop of young men and women, who needed no urging to apply themselves to developing their Gifts.
They all settled at the edge of the meadow. There, on a slight rise, where field met forest, was a rocky outcrop. Herra stood at the foot of the point that jutted into the sky like a finger and waited.
Above her in the air a darkness formed, not the heavy lightless darkness of the Serpent, but the pale purplish darkness of the deleff, which seemed to have stillness at its heart. Then the deleff appeared, bringing with them the wrenching disorientation that meant the High Deleffal was there in person.
There were gasps and murmurs in the crowd, then folk quietened again.
In that silence, the rocks behind Herra trembled for a moment, more a shivering than an earthquake, more a sigh than a rumble, and Fiana walked forward to lay her hand upon the rock, smiling warmly as if greeting a friend. 'I shall, if you permit, Elder Sister, act as Voice to Quequere today.' Her voice seemed louder than usual.
Quedras came up to stand at the side of the rocks, pride in every inch of him. 'Tell him we're here, will you? Tell him we're serving him well.'
'He knows,' Fiana said softly. 'Did he not follow you all through the long weary months of your march, helping you when he could? You are Quequere's people and he loves you all very much.'
'Ha!' But the word was softer than Quedras's usual explosions of feeling, and when Querilla's hand slipped into his, he could only nod at her, unable to speak for a brightness in his eye and a lump in his throat. When this was over, if they were spared, they’d both return to South Vale and spend their declining years in the shadow of Quequere's Quoin. Some of their people would probably stay in the Twelve Claims, but he and Querilla both wished to grow old and die in their own land, among their own people, there where the pale sands of the Great Desert changed gradually into the narrow rocky valleys, and where Herra's River had brought fertile abundance.
When all were silent and she knew that the waiting was over, Herra stepped up lightly on to the lowest of the rocks. 'Today, my dear, my very dear friends, we need to discuss our overall strategy for the battle to come. Alaran, would you please recite for us the sixth and seventh verses of the Great Prophecy?' She waited in expectation of pleasure, for Alaran's voice was in itself a thing of beauty, whether he was speaking or singing.
He stood up and chanted the words:
Their early steps shall guided be
By one whose power enhanced
Shall save them all in glade and tree
Till her last glad steps be danced.
Then Sunrise shall awake with joy,
To banish Serpent dire,
And Wisdom's Looking-Glass employ,
To set all Space on fire.
Even the smallest child knew the Great Prophecy by heart, for it was what had guided them and given them hope through these troubled times, but all listened patiently to the melodious voice.
Herra dismissed him with a nod of thanks and prepared to explain something of what would happen before winter fell that year.
Around her the air seemed brighter, as if the last of the daylight itself had gathered there that evening to honour Herra of Tenebrak. And everyone was sure that only she had any hope of saving their world from Discord.
'Let us consider these verses,' she said, her voice carrying clearly to everyone there.
'Teach us and we shall listen, Elder Sister.' People didn’t need prompting to use the formal temple phrases that night.
'I hope,' she said, her quiet voice echoing among the muted colours of fading day, 'I do truly hope that I have guided you well in your early steps, as the prophecy states. These years have been a joy to me, so much joy. As have all of you, each and every one, for you have applied yourselves eagerly to learning the skills we share with one another. It’s given those of us who grew up in a Sisterhood great pleasure to become a Kindred as we were in the very beginning.'
There was a murmur of surprise.
Herra nodded to them. 'Yes, when Deverith and Karialla founded Temple Tenebrak, it was with the help of people who called themselves the Kindred of the God.' She waited until the buzz of comments had died down. 'It is also a pleasure to share our training with any who display Gifts, not just those
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who have been chosen. I hope this time has been as happy for all of you as it has for me.'
Heads were nodding across the piece of ground, hands seeking hands, voices murmuring agreement. Yes, in spite of the shadow loo
ming over their future, it had been a very happy time for all of them.
'I think - ' her voice came slowly, with an occasional hesitation, as if she was searching carefully for the best phrases, the choicest words, the most telling images, to make her speech memorable.
Beside her, Cheral, who had the Gift of Recall, was memorising Herra's speech. Before the next day faded, it would be transcribed on to fine parchment, copied carefully and sent out to some of the other settlements for safe keeping. For Cheral knew already that her beloved Sister Herra would not be with them for much longer. She didn’t need telling that. She had no Gift of Prophecy about the larger things in the world, but where Herra was concerned, she knew things almost before they happened.
'I think,' Herra went on, 'that at no time in all our long history on this world have we managed to create a community like this one, where everyone works together with such joy. Our Brother has seemed very close to us over these years and it’s been a time of rich development. But now, as we’ve sown the seeds of our joy, so must we begin to reap the harvest of wisdom's flowers and use it to help us through the bad times coming.'
Now the faces were looking puzzled again. She allowed a moment for her words to sink in, then called out as clearly as a bell tolling:
Then Sunrise shall awake with joy
Another pause, then she continued, 'That is meant quite literally, my dear friends. It is joy which shall defeat the Serpent, and only joy which can make the difference in the battle to come. We must fight physically. Yes, sadly, we must do that. But we must blazon our joy around us like a banner as we fight. We must toss it into the faces of those of evil. For they cannot bear joy. They cannot bear love.
They feed on pain, hatred and fear, and in those harsh emotions the seeds of evil flourish.
Suddenly Davred remembered the day they’d met Sen-Sether in the hills to the north of Setheron.
Such a surge of the rightness of what Herra was saying now filled him that he was on his feet before he had realised what was happening. 'Yes!' he cried loudly. 'Oh, yes!' And something prompted him to describe that day and how the light of their joy had held back the dark tide of evil lapping around them.