A Question of Power (The Fire Chronicles Book 2)

by Susi Wright

  After leaving the others, Churian and his warriors flew over the desert on a steady breeze for a couple of hours. Most of the country they covered was sandy desert with very little sign of life, except for a few small reptiles and sand rabbits; they were surprised to spot another hungry zabuk leopard on the prowl, out in the open wasteland hunting for small prey. In its natural habitat of grassland or forest, there was always an abundance of large prey animals such as rumars and wild hogs. It was most strange for the big cats to wander so far.

  Churian’s attention was drawn ahead of them as they began to pass over some rocky terrain which formed part of the borderlands. The massive conical boulders were visible from a considerable distance away, jutting from the surrounding desert like great sentinels. As the fliers navigated between the tops of the granite monoliths, further into the natural rocky citadel, Churian surprised the other two by suddenly circling back twice over where they had just flown. It was by no means time for a rest, but Zenth and Troyan naturally followed. Then he signalled for them to land in a small circular ravine, surrounded by these granite giants.

  Landing silently on the sand, Churian stood motionless, projecting his awareness out into the crevasses and gullies that fanned out from their position. Zenth and Troyan stayed respectfully still and silent while their percipient elder concentrated.

  The ponderous minutes stretched out, as the wind whistled through the craggy tops overhead and small eddies stirred the sand around their feet. In these meditative moments, it always seemed time was standing still.

  Then, a soft sloughing noise came from behind a huge boulder and a bedraggled two-legged creature appeared. It was as tall as a man and vaguely similar though broader in stature. The head was bald, the entire torso was covered in fine hair and two long hairy arms almost reached the ground. One hand was missing, the stump putrefying horribly. The rudimentary clothing was filthy, torn and bloodstained. Obviously suffering, it ambled on large, thickly-padded but badly-blistered feet and was limping, hunched over in pain from the numerous, unmistakable sword wounds all over its body. Panting from the effort of moving, it paused, slumping against a rock with a pitiful whimper.

  As Churian and the others stared at the being, it gazed back with large, black tearful eyes, imploring them for help. Uncertain, Zenth glanced at Churian, noticing he didn’t seem particularly surprised at the newcomer’s strange appearance and still kept intent focus on it. The younger warrior guessed the intention was to assure and calm the frightened creature. He knew from his elders’ stories, that other strange peoples existed beyond the fringes of the Known World. Churian was widely-travelled, fought with other races and had possibly encountered such a one before, but Zenth never had. Returning his gaze to the ragged form, he did realise that standing before them, seriously-injured and undeniably in need of help, was a strange-looking individual that had wandered far from its native homeland. It was obviously not an animal. But certainly, neither was it Gaian, nor was it human.

  CHAPTER 11

  A Decision

  Intuition guided Xandor and Sumar simultaneously in their next move. Exchanging a brief glance, they moved out onto the street. Hooded and cloaked, they easily mingled with the locals and other travellers who wore a wide variety of clothing styles. Keeping their heads down, they approached the guarded girl. Xandor’s sudden awareness that he should be the one to make contact with the girl surprised him, but Sumar had known it before they moved.

  Sumar sensed the girl’s emotion was troubled, questioning, resentful, hopeful, but that she had no idea why she felt any of those things. There was also great power in that ignorance, a dubious magic. He did not envy Xandor in his dealings with her.

  In concert as they came level with the front guards, they began sparring as if in fun. Xandor gave Sumar a hefty shove. Sumar feigned tripping and dove towards the men with far more than ordinary force, knocking them both to the ground where they flailed for a few confused moments trying to get to their feet.

  Sumar staggered back towards the two other guards, who had by now drawn their weapons. Placing a calming hand on each of their outstretched sword-arms, he distracted their attention from the fray by apologising profusely for his clumsiness. Some bystanders added unknowingly to the confusion by moving frantically about, trying to avoid the brawl and possible injury to themselves.

  Meanwhile, Xandor had time to make brief contact with the girl. Leaning in towards her, he spoke with quiet urgency in Gaian. “Do not fear. . .we want to help you!” but when she stared back with mesmerising flame-golden eyes, an initial startling jolt of intense desire assailed him. He struggled to put it aside before he realised she had not understood and hastily tried human dialect. “I will find you again. . .help you!” He could not resist another brief look into those alluring eyes, telling himself it was just to see if she understood, lingering a moment longer than was prudent while he savoured the buzz in his veins, before hurrying away to follow Sumar.

  Before the guards had regrouped, the two Gaians had disappeared into the crowd on foot, running down a side alley. Sumar in his empathetic and protective way, chose not to increase his friend’s discomfort in any way by discussing what had just happened to him. Instead he led them in the direction of the beach where he knew the presently hot and bothered Xandor would benefit greatly from a very cold dip in the surf.

  Once on the quiet beach with the fresh sea-breeze in their faces, the two companions stripped off their clothes and dove headlong into the waves. Xandor felt grateful for the cooling effect of the water on his body and mind. They swam a furlong out to sea, then back towards the shore and out again, revelling in the power of the crashing breakers. Returning underwater around the headland, they summoned new currents to propel them deep below the surface to collect some rock oysters.

  Refreshed and breathless, they emerged at the end of the beach to sit on two flat rocks and the warmth of the afternoon sun dried their bodies while they ate the shellfish raw, washed down by a draught of fresh water from a small spring nearby.

  Only then, after each had passed sufficient time in private reflection, did they speak. Sumar knew Xandor still had many unanswered questions. Enlightenment for the younger warrior continued to prove elusive. It took much time and practice before any normal initiate experienced improvement in perceptive skills. The Elite were born with superior capacity. For them, progress was much faster, though not necessarily easier. The Elite bloodlines were dwindling along with the others of their race. But perhaps not for too much longer, under the Alliance, thought Sumar with a glimmer of hope.

  “Brother, you are anxious. . .but what you feel is normal.” Sumar smiled kindly. “You can turn it to your advantage.”

  Xandor met his companion’s encouraging gaze, his own eyes glittering with the emotion he still struggled to control but grateful for the calm that was offered. He didn’t need to tell Sumar that in this moment, he doubted his own worthiness to lead the mission. If he were to lose focus and control of his senses, he could jeopardise their success.

  “Sumar, do you feel I should be the one to communicate with her?” Xandor asked. “I have never been afraid of anything. But she. . .frightens me! The power in her eyes is daunting!” His mouth twisted in self-derision. “You know how it affects me!” He looked at Sumar with a slightly embarrassed expression.

  “In the first place, it was your idea to rescue this girl. That comes from intuition! This elemental fear you feel means it is certain you must be the one, my brother. You must rise to the challenge, it is essential to your progress – part of your fate!” stated Sumar with complete confidence. “Whatever happens, you will succeed – ” He gave Xandor a pat on the back and a conspiratorial grin, “ – with a little help from me!”

  He went on. “She is very unhappy. I believe her to be ignorant of her true purpose, her origins and her magic – she needs education. She will need to be placed for some time under the guardianship and tutelage of an elder. . .for example, my aunt.” Nerisse w
as the only person he knew with suitable wisdom and compassion.

  Xandor’s next question was one Sumar himself had been examining on the predicament of this girl. “Have you ever heard of a Gaian woman ever having – or using – magic like that?”

  Sumar answered sagely. “No, never. . .but I sense . . . a shift. . .in Existence. Times are changing. Many new and strange things in our destiny were set in motion by Lord Luminor’s quest – ” His eyes became speculative, “ – and they did not end with the death of the flame adder!”

  Xandor felt something similar. “I suppose it will not be the only unusual thing we see, before our quest is over!”

  Still thoughtful, Xandor started to put on his clothes, surprising himself by coming to a decision. “We must plan how to get her away from here. There is no easy way! First, we are going to have to convince her to fly with us down to the docks. We must find a ship and buy passage to the mainland – we cannot carry her all the way across the Southern Sea. I doubt she is allowed out every day.” Xandor glanced at their small pile of gear. “Well, it’s obvious, even to me. One does not need exceptional perception to see what the coin is for!”

  Sumar had known the moment they had come upon the purse; yet again, he had wisely left Xandor’s own intuition to develop. “Yes. I suggest you meditate this afternoon. Tonight, you are going to have to buy enough time with her to explain. . .and get her out of the building! I will be waiting for you on the roof!”

  CHAPTER 12

  Money Talks

  Xandor returned to his chosen rock on the headland and spent the remainder of the afternoon dutifully meditating. The sound of the ocean had worked its soothing influence on his mind; he had reached a steely calm, which he hoped to hold onto through the coming night. He intended to draw on the same self-discipline he had acquired in combat training to withstand the unsettling influence of the girl. His mantra was service to the Alliance.

  Even at his youthful age, he knew better than to succumb to such distraction. The real challenge would come when he was face to face with her again. Many unanswered questions, he allowed to inhabit a place at the back of his mind, trusting their resolution would come to him in due course. He felt grateful to have the constancy of Sumar’s humble advice, encouragement and calming influence as an anchor through the impending storm on his senses.

  A cool evening mist wafted in from the sea over the boats in their moorings as the two companions made their way to town. They surveyed the half-dozen vessels of varying size, the name-flags still just visible in the fading light through the drifting mist. Surely one of them would provide them with a fast passage to the port of Siva.

  The fog, expected to fall thickly by midnight, would nicely cover their escaping flight. Xandor caught sight of one flag, depicting a blue porpoise. “By the Ancestors! That is the one! That man owes me passage!” He headed for the pier, explaining quickly to Sumar as they walked. It seemed a timely stroke of luck, though in reality it was probably the hand of Fate. Xandor scanned the various characters milling about on the jetty as he and Sumar mingled unnoticed. Sailors were starting to come ashore by dinghy, looking forward to their usual recreational activities – drinking and whoring.

  Skrim was not one of them. Hope started to wane with the fading sound of ribald banter as the majority of the seamen drifted away from the pier towards the town. The friends, unwilling to give up too soon, stayed on the end of the jetty, peering out into the gathering mist a while longer.

  They were rewarded a few minutes later, when the last two skiffs appeared, taking longer to come ashore than all the others; the Blue Porpoise was moored the furthest out, being the last of the vessels in the bay to arrive.

  The two rowboats each carried five men, rowing with gusto toward the jetty, eager to begin a night of revelling. This was a relatively small crew for the size of the vessel, a trading cutter. Xandor supposed that Skrim made sure he got his money’s worth out of every one of them, working them to the bone. He spotted the skipper with his eye-patch and jaunty hat, sitting at the back of the second dinghy. As they pulled up level with the pier and climbed out to secure the ropes, Skrim issued his last orders of the evening. “All o’ ye, be back aboard two hours a-fore first light – and not too drunk – or I’ll cast off without ye! Ye’ve had two full nights of boozing and rutting. Count this a bonus, lads!”

  Still shrouded in hood and cloak, Xandor called out a greeting as the first crew members left the boat. “Skipper Skrim! What luck to see you! Remember me? From the tavern, in Siva?”

  Several men in front of Skrim assumed a defensive stance, hands on their cutlasses, accustomed to facing off against old enemies and frequently having to protect their captain. They eyed the two cloaked strangers warily, forming a barrier.

  Skrim quickly recognised the broad-shouldered, distinctively-cloaked form and voice of the strange warrior he had met in Siva, though was surprised to see him again – especially here, after he had not turned up at the docks a few days ago. Now there were two of them. Both had swords. He saw no reason to test their mettle here.

  “Stand easy, mates! This ‘ere is a friend!” Skrim hoped he had assumed correctly: that the stranger had sampled the delights on offer from the wench with the eyes of fire, and was hence well-disposed towards him.

  “Can we talk?” Xandor’s tone was friendly and Skrim relaxed, dismissing the majority of his men to their recreation; he was careful to retain two of them, instructing them to wait out of earshot while he talked to the foreigner and his companion.

  Xandor introduced Sumar, who had been surreptitiously calming Skrim for a while.

  “This is Sumar. Remember. . .I mentioned a friend? Your offer of passage still holds – yes?” He did not wait for an answer. “We need to get back to Siva. You are leaving for the mainland in a few hours. Does your vessel have speed?”

  Skrim was immediately suspicious. “It can be fast. . .when needed. . .Why?”

  “Will these silver coins answer that. . .and prevent more questions?” Xandor produced several silver pieces from one of his pockets, careful that only Skrim, not his crew members, could see them. “Sumar and I can help with manual labour. And. . .there will be three of us!”

  Skrim’s one eye widened. Three? He was not in the habit of taking passengers, even one at a time, but glancing at the small fortune in Xandor’s palm, he kept further questions unasked. He was used to taking risks. He’d done his share of reiving during his youth but it was an extremely dangerous way of life. As he’d gotten older and acquired his own vessel, he looked for the security of proper trade contracts with merchants in Siva and other ports across the Southern Sea. It was never smooth sailing. He had made more than a few enemies over the years, some he couldn’t avoid meeting again in his travels, but he had settled into a somewhat less dangerous routine.

  His livelihood for the last five years involved ferrying cargo back and forth across the straits. Some was legitimate, some was not. He boosted income by a certain amount of smuggling and, since passengers tended to be too nosy, he usually did not risk having them wandering about his decks. The few he’d taken aboard over the years had paid poorly and tended to complain about everything. Not one of them had ever handed over more than half a silver piece, even for much longer voyages. The coins he now ogled would be a welcome bonus, one he wouldn’t have to share with his crew. They would simply be happy to have extra hands on deck.

  He had already secretly delivered his black market goods to associates, camped on the other side of the island, before dropping anchor in the bay. Here, he had offloaded the usual legitimate supplies to Tuli merchants. Although he had taken aboard some cases of exotic island fruits and tree nuts which were in high demand on the mainland, the hold would still be half-empty on the return to Siva. He could push the vessel to top speed. He was more than happy to leave before first light – at full sail – in the direction he was going anyway. The only regret he would have was that, having spent every penny over the last two nights o
n ale, there was now no time left to make use of the unexpected windfall on this visit to buy some heaven in the company of the golden-eyed devil-angel.

  He sighed wistfully, remembering fondly the last occasion when he had sufficient coin. Then, taking one more greedy look at the silver in Xandor’s hand, came to a decision. “Done! Be on the jetty two hours before dawn. I’ll have a dinghy waiting to bring ye aboard. The Porpoise’ll cast off as soon as ye get yer carcasses ‘ere!” He quickly took the coins, pocketed them and the deal was agreed by handshakes between all three.

  At the physical contact with Skrim, Sumar nodded imperceptibly to Xandor, acknowledging the validity of the arrangement.

  Both sides, content with the deal they had just struck, parted company to go about their different business. Skrim was going to the nearest inn with his two crew, for a moderate couple of drinks, before rounding up the rest of them and returning to his ship, begin making ready for a quick departure. Xandor and Sumar headed off to perpetrate a rescue.

  The two friends went over the plan as they waited in an alley close to the brothel: Xandor had to gain entry to the house without raising any suspicion. Foreign dress was one thing but the eyes were something else. Disguised, he could buy time with the girl – enough time to convince her and get out. If they were lucky, there would be time to fly down to the jetty before she was discovered missing.

  The brothel owner would want the money first. Xandor had the pouch of coins in his pocket, quite sure their value well-exceeded the price. He should have plenty left over. His eyes searched for some last-minute assurance, finding it as expected in his companion’s steady gaze. Sumar’s comforting hand on his shoulder intensified the influence, giving him a boost of inner-strength, and making the sign of the Ancestors for good measure. Xandor applied one small drop from his vial to each eye, replacing it carefully in the satchel which he left with Sumar, and strode resolutely towards the brothel.