by Susi Wright
Some Morvians danced for sheer enjoyment, determined to drive the terrors of the Zorg invasion and their captivity to the backs of their minds. Others chatted excitedly about their journey or told stories. A few emaciated individuals sat pale-faced, patient and quiet, waiting for the meal, as if there would never be another.
Luminor refused his ration and watched the road from the porch, as the long shadows of the mountains stretched across the farm and evening twilight fell.
Eventually, well after dark, the group for whom he waited appeared, rounding a bend in the road, and he took to the air, meeting them half-way. As he approached, acknowledging his men, he noted Ji's injury with no small concern; but above all, the sight of Essie was a balm to his soul. His eyes were brimming with emotion, but his voice was stern. “You are late!” he said.
Chapter 47 : THE CAVE
“We cannot force them to stay, brother Santor – they are not our prisoners!” insisted the senior warrior.
The two Gaians watched doubtfully, from the top of a snowdrift, as a small family of Morvians trudged off into the snow under a deceptive blue sky.
The adults had grown restless and fearful, assailed by confusing visions of snow-cat attacks and starvation. Their Gaian protectors had failed to convince them to stay in the safety of the Cave of Springs, and the couple had made the foolish decision to take their children and set out on their own.
Santor shook his head in frustration. “It is madness . . . Morvian visions seem so ephemeral. They fear an attack here, but I do not see them getting far out there. It defies logic. There are predators! I sense that it will be a disaster – I hope none of the others follow their example!”
“It is true that wild animals are most difficult to predict and in these mountains everything is particularly strange,” remarked the older warrior. “Perhaps snow-cats do not act like the zabuks in our world. I must admit that my mind-sight does not work well here. I can understand the confusion, but I think they should have stayed. I too, have a bad feeling about their chances. It is nuisance enough that we had to part with several days of precious rations to help them on their way, when we now have fifty here to feed. And, speaking of which, it is past time to oversee the next meal!” He jumped lightly down from the icy perch and began to move along the narrow path.
Turning on his heels, Santor swore softly and followed his companion back to the refuge.
Inside, in the warmth, it was a surprising hive of activity. The group who sheltered in the cave had swelled considerably in the past week, since the two warriors had brought in several groups who otherwise would have perished. Against all the odds, two more individuals had stumbled in during a storm; they and the others had happily joined Lelu and Finn, taking up the tasks of cooking, caring for Bilu and several other orphans, and feeding and cleaning up after the animals. Fortunately, dung made good fuel for the fires.
With the exception of the family who had somehow let paranoia rob them of their senses, the Morvians were grateful to have been rescued and given shelter and food. They all pulled their weight, in a reasonably harmonious manner. Arguments were rare and there had been only one fight to break up.
However, to the Gaians entrusted with their care, the lengthy wait was becoming a serious worry. For one thing, they were a hungry lot and supplies were diminishing rapidly. Ration sizes were far too liberal. The greatest concern was the fact that the weather worsened by the day.
Today's clear sky had been a rarity.
“Soon, we will have to kill a yak, and that will mean less milk for the babies,” said Santor. “How long before we can expect Lord Luminor?”
The older man considered for a moment. “He and our forces are outside of my range, so I think it will be more than three days. Tomorrow I will enforce half-rations.”
The warriors went without food that day. In the evening they sat together near the entrance of the cave; on the far side of the space, their first charges, Lelu and Finn, and the baby Bilu, slept tightly huddled together as a family, their bellies full. In the dying firelight, other morvians settled down to sleep, or engaged in discreet amorous activities, knowing their comfortable routine could not last.
Santor took his turn at the watch that night. He nocked an arrow as he moved through the short tunnel to shelter just inside the cave mouth, out of the wind, which was picking up rapidly for the night storm. It swirled and whistled in the rocky corridor in front of him. He expected that the lone snow-cat, which had made an appearance for the last three nights, would be back. Blinding white against the snow in daylight, the big cat was an elusive target. He had been out earlier to track it, but had lost it among the drifts.
It had been pure luck, more than a week ago, when the warriors had managed to hunt and kill two of the beasts, as they fought over a mountain-goat carcass several valleys away.
At night, it was even more difficult to spot one. The creature, with a massive coat of thick fur and apparently perfect vision in a white-out, preferred to stalk during the night blizzards when the cat itself was virtually invisible. The howling wind and driving snow disturbed all sense of it. For three nights, Santor's arrows had missed the latest marauder, but scared it off. However, each time it had come back bolder than the night before. It was hungry.
It was a little past midnight. The blizzard raged at full force, one of the worst yet. His bow in one hand, Santor pulled his cloak tightly around his body with the other. The warmth from inside the cave did not quite reach this far. There was certainly no danger he would doze off.
Unable to remain seated, he stood tensely at the cave entrance, shifting from one foot to the other to warm them. His growing sense of unease kept him alert, as he peered out blindly into the ghostly, swirling white night, deafened by the gale. The cat could be close . . . he had no idea. He hoped this night was too bad, even for a snow-cat.
Santor thought he saw a movement; it could have been a thick swirl of snow. He drew his bow, fired an arrow at the shape and loaded another. His comrade was already behind him, alerted to a threat.
The huge snow-cat materialised out of the blizzard and was on the young warrior before he could fire.
It was fast. Savage sabre teeth crunched through his neck in one bite; its weight took Santor backwards into the old warrior, who fell, shouting a warning to the others in the cave. Trapped beneath predator and prey, he struggled violently, freed his sword arm and slashed wild and high, connecting with fur and flesh. Warm blood trickled over him, from the cat, and from his lifeless brother.
He fought harder, knowing Santor was dead, thrusting his sword once, twice, and again, hard to the hilt; then he lost hold. The weight suddenly lifted. Snow-cat and victim were gone into the freezing white swirl around him. Had he killed it? He was free – alive – for a heartbeat. Then the second cat attacked with spectral force. Fangs pierced flesh and bone.
The old warrior's blood mingled with the spreading ruby stain on the snowy ground.
Out of the fateful blizzard, came a third and fourth, ghostly white hunters, slipping quickly past the carnage and crimson snow into the cave, regardless of the screaming. And another . . . and another . . . a streaming pack of snow-cats, deadly blurs, too quick for mortal hands.
Too hungry.
Too many.
Chapter 48 : JI
“I suppose you deserve my thanks, Shuul!” Ji smiled dryly and shifted his injured leg to a more comfortable position, as he sat on a log in front of the pre-dawn fire. The camp was quiet, for few had yet risen.
Shuul chuckled. “I am happy to oblige . . . any time you need punching in the face, my friend!”
“Let's hope it won't be necessary . . . if I can succeed in swallowing my pride!” Ji looked sheepish.
“We men are proud creatures!” Shuul flashed a grin. “And the love of a good woman can make us . . . or break us.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Princess Espira can certainly make a fool of me! In her eyes it is obvious she loves you . . . and she has powerful ma
gic! This could be a triumph, or a tragedy, for you. Accept it, but do not let it break you, my friend. Be proud! You are a mighty warrior – you have proven yourself in battle!”
Ji studied his Cymbian companion, mulling over his words, and glanced away towards Espira's tent. Incredibly, she loved him, human though he was; his long-awaited dream of having her as his soul-mate was coming true.
Love can conquer all. He knew the principle and believed in it whole-heartedly. And Shuul was right. Espira's love was a supremely powerful force which seemed to have no limit . . . the First Fire!
Why then, this vague doubt? He looked up to find Shuul's speculative eyes on him. In that moment, realisation further eroded Ji's confidence. “Her power frightens me, more than any battle ever could!”
Agitated, he struggled to his feet, saw Shuul move to offer his hand then withdraw it. Simple, but maddening, the warrior's code jangled in Ji's head: A warrior must first conquer fear . . . he hobbled a step, drawn towards Espira's tent, but hesitated, frozen in indecision; he glanced back at his friend.
Shuul rolled his eyes dramatically.
“By the god, Rualla,” Shuul whispered through his teeth, as if it pained him. “If it were me, in your place . . . I would just go claim her!” He gave Ji an emphatic look. “Lay her!”
Ji laughed. Shuul was certainly direct in his attitude to women. But he was heartened by his friend's encouragement, knowing it came at great personal cost. He admired the life-debt Shuul had sworn to uphold. It was no secret that it had all come from the man's love and respect for Espira. Shuul had certainly changed since Ji first met him. Espira had changed him.
Without effort, she seemed to inspire sacrifice; she had even healed the fierce rivalry between Shuul and himself. Now, Ji realised how much he valued that new friendship. He smiled gratefully at Shuul, accepted the stick he offered as a crutch and limped the considerable distance to Espira's tent.
I am awake and dressed, Ji . . . you can come in!
Ji smiled, apprehensive, wondering how much she knew. Then he pushed the flap open and ducked inside, his wry grin meeting her knowing smile, as she held out her arms to him. He lurched forward into her embrace and they kissed passionately. Breaking briefly, Ji searched her eyes. He had so many questions about their future. Espira kissed him again to dispel his uncertainty and whispered against his mouth, “Ji, stop worrying. It will be alright!”
He pulled back, looking deep into her eyes and wondered why he ever doubted the power of such love. He allowed her to sit him on the floor to examine his leg-wound, revelling in her touch on his upper thigh as she unravelled the bandage. The puckered gash ran from just above the knee to high on his inner thigh. The raw edges of flesh had already begun to knit together, a healthy pink; Xandor's stitching was far from a work of art but had nonetheless been effective. Ji felt the residual pain from the wound evaporate under Espira's gentle ministrations. Her simple touch was healing and invigorating. He sighed with pleasure, meeting her eyes.
“I would suffer a hundred such injuries . . .” He gasped with a different kind of pain.
The morning call to action broke their intimate exchange. Espira quickly re-bandaged his leg, blushing profusely, and helped him to his feet. Reluctantly, Ji contented himself with one more taste of her lips and pulled her by the hand out of the tent. Then, smiling into each other's eyes they walked hand-in-hand towards the smell of fresh-baked panna.
As an afterthought, Ji glanced around for Shuul; it seemed the Cymbian had discreetly disappeared, which gave Ji pause, for he could never be sure . . .
Chapter 49 : DISASTER
The arduous ascent of the Cliffs of Tamrin took a full day of careful navigation. There had been close calls but no losses due to falls – a good start to the journey, in rare clement weather.
For several days, the company moved on during daylight, under a light sprinkling of snow. Guided by Espira and the dragon above them, they found a way through passes which unnaturally rearranged themselves daily. The blizzards that visited with a vengeance each night were endured more easily in the warmth of dragon's breath. And Lord Luminor accepted its comfort, as grateful as the rest.
One such evening, the campfires crackled merrily and three iron spits turned, laden with roast mountain-goats. Across the camp, the mood and aroma became almost festive. The snow-covered enclave where they sheltered and the extra benefit provided by having a resident dragon made the snowstorm raging around the peaks overhead seem almost inconsequential. Spirits soared as one-and-all tucked in to a hearty meal with their bare hands.
Beside one of the fires, Espira, her father and the usual company of captains, which now included Shuul, were discussing the journey ahead.
They were joined by the Gaian veteran scout who had kept constant bearings on the Cave of Springs, their half-way rest stop. He now paid deference to two leaders. “Lady Espira, my lord. I judge it to be one more day's march – all going well!”
Espira thanked him and after a respectful nod, he left to find some food.
“That is good news. . .” She smiled tightly at her companions. “But I cannot relax. I have a bad feeling . . . to me, these mountains spell doom in every corner!”
“No doubt, we have many trials ahead . . .” said Xandor, “The Gargantuan is dormant, I think. The monster has hardly breathed yet! Our outward journey was punishing!”
Sumar and Dak both agreed there was trouble ahead – how could there not be?
Espira looked to her father for his opinion. His aura was subdued, different. He had always been a sober and taciturn man, but for days, spending hours in contemplation, he had spoken hardly a word, though he shared lingering grief with Espira when their eyes met. In every company discussion, he offered no comment. She caught his eyes and smiled affectionately, I know what you are doing Papa!
Luminor acknowledged Espira silently, but his remark was for all present. “I am grateful we have not had further losses. I am glad we have the protection of the dragon into the future – proud my daughter rides him, using her powers wisely, for the Alliance! From now on, you must all see me, as I see myself . . . an observer and supporter, with limited powers. I have no more to say.”
Sumar and Dak had seen the change since Ardientor's death; Stolis and Jimbu held great sympathy for the loss their lord carried. They shared looks but all remained silent. Even Shuul, who had reluctantly come to admire the Gaian lord, had noticed something different. He followed every consultation with avid interest.
Espira was glad to have Ji and Shuul in these discussions; Ji, as her future husband and captain of the Elite cavalry, would eventually play a major part. Of course, Shuul would always represent his clan, the small Cymbian minority, newly aligned with the Alliance.
Both men attested to the major earthquake which had consumed so many on the outward journey. “It happened without warning!” exclaimed Ji, “And even Gaian powers could not stop it!”
“Almost as dangerous as the Zorgs!” added Shuul.
Suddenly, as if replying to mention of its name, to remind these mortals of its daunting power, the heart of the mountain rumbled menacingly and the ground beneath their feet shook for a few seconds; then quietened. The dragon roared protectively.
Espira, too, felt a foreboding presence. “Apparently the Gargantuan does not sleep!” She glanced around those present. “But perhaps we should try . . . for I have a feeling tomorrow will be difficult!”
The frequent rumblings in the night had woken her several times. A little after midnight, also unable to sleep, Ji had come to her, slipping into her open arms under a blanket as he had three nights ago.
On that occasion, at the first kiss, Espira had pulled away, an earnest look in her eyes. “I have made a decision and I have two things to ask of you, my love . . .”
“Anything,” he had replied.
“Firstly, it is not easy, but I want to respect Father's wishes, to wait for our joining to be on our wedding day in Baram.” Espira's appeal held
no apology.
“Ah . . . that!” Ji smiled and nodded slowly. “I thought that was originally my idea. And what else?”
She pulled him close. “Secondly . . . that you will always love me and hold me like this, for with you, I am just 'Essie' – no matter what we might face – you know it will not be easy!”
Ji's eyes were intense. “I will always love you . . . like this –, ” he kissed her and smiled. “I have always loved you . . . and, Essie, you have never been easy!” He grinned. “Just 'Essie' – does that mean I don't have to follow orders?”
She gave him a mock-serious look. “You are only exempt when we are alone!”
They had simply embraced and kissed and fallen asleep in each other's arms for a time then, and each night since, after which Ji slipped away to his own bedroll just before first light.
In his strong embrace, Espira at least found solace from the nightmares, although her mind-sight remained stubbornly uneasy.
This night had been most disturbing. When the next rumble woke them both, Espira sent Ji back to his squadron to sleep one more hour and be ready to move early.
They all woke to a haunting wail, echoing in the quiet pre-dawn.
Roused from sleep, Espira left the solitude of her tent, recognising the warning in Ra's voice. She strapped on her scabbard and shouldered her quiver at a run, calling the order, “Move out! We do not break fast this morn!”
In passing, she was pleased to notice Ji's squad were already mounting up; Luminor, Xandor and the captains were rallying everyone else to action and no one dragged their feet. Meeting her father's eyes, she gave a curt nod and a smile, and he took to the air beside Xandor, ahead of the fliers. She raised her cloak and flew to her place astride Ra.