The Namura Stone

by Andrews, Gillian

  “We thought it better to reach the crossroads by as discreet a route as possible,” he told her. “—Just in case Tartalus has been hanging around waiting for us. We will reach the normal track only a mile or so from where we are to meet Bennel.”

  She nodded. “I am still not sure whether my cousin meant to harm us or not,” she admitted. “I find it hard to believe, yet I could swear that I saw decision on his face.”

  “He means you and Raven great harm, I think. I saw an ambitious man – one who will not give up easily. He may be convinced that you and your daughter are the only impediments to his becoming the next Elder of Coriolis.”

  “Perhaps. I shall be glad to get off the planet.”

  “Yes. This time, so shall I.”

  She caught the tone. “You mean that you will come back here to live, one day?”

  He hesitated. “The sibyla seems to think that I will, yes. But she would tell me no more, so I know not when, nor why, nor how. She seems to think, though, that I have a distant path to travel before coming back.” He paused for a moment to shift the weight of his precious burden to the other shoulder. “She said that I must serve my emptor first, whether or not the blood oath is broken. She said I would know it, when the time came.”

  Diva nodded. “I expect you will.” She stared at the ground. “How do you know where to go?”

  He shrugged. “I was shown the ways by my teacher, and the stone guides us. Can you not feel it?”

  Diva stepped in front and tried to visualize which would be the right path to take, only to be stopped by a fierce shout as she made a final decision.

  “NOT THERE!”

  She opened her eyes and stopped with one foot in the air. It looked perfectly safe to her.

  Tallen shook his head and tossed a heavy stone from close to where he was himself standing. It settled into what looked just like ordinary sandy soil, and then there was a horrid gurgling sound and the stone disappeared from view.

  Diva turned back. “It seems that I don’t hear the stone too well,” she admitted. “Perhaps you should lead the way back to the crossroads?”

  Tallen nodded. “Didn’t think a meritocrat would ever be able to feel the stone,” he told her, with not a little satisfaction. Diva stared at his back for a second, and then followed hurriedly on, anxious to keep her own eyes on his exact footsteps.

  ALL WAS WELL until they had nearly reached the crossroads. They were still just within the marshes, when a small movement in the reeds on either side of the path in front of them alerted Tallen. He put a hand out immediately to stop Diva, and drew his sword, putting Raven down behind him and motioning with his finger for her to be very quiet. She knew that this was one of the major signs, one of the ones she had to obey instantly.

  Diva’s eyes were narrowed, trying to see what was in front of them on the track. Her famous Coriolan dagger had appeared in her hand.

  Then there was a commotion to one side, and two large figures appeared from behind a screen of large rushes. Tallen looked back in surprise. They were good; he hadn’t detected any of them as they passed the ambush position.

  Diva had glanced back, too. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Elders!”

  The Namuri boy glanced at her. Her face was rigid with dislike, and she had stiffened like a dog that had spotted its prey.

  “Kwaidian Elders,” she explained. “They must have come to see Tartalus here on Coriolis. But I can’t see him anywhere.”

  “Perhaps he is busy forging himself a cast-iron alibi somewhere else?”

  Diva went still. Tallen was right. That was the most believable explanation. It was exactly what Tartalus would do if he had decided to act in all seriousness, and get rid of both Diva and Raven in one fell swoop. “Then we must fight, Namuri,” she said, through gritted teeth. “And fight well, for there will be many of them.”

  “I hear you, Meritocrat,” said Tallen, his eyes scanning around them. “I am ready.”

  Diva glanced across at the boy. He was, indeed, ready. He was slowly circling, his sword in front of him, waiting watchfully for the first attack to come. Then her eyes found Raven, standing absolutely still in the middle of the path, just as she had been taught. Diva felt extremely cross with herself. She should have arranged for a troop of guards to meet them at the edge of the marshland. Six would be furious with her, and rightly so. He had told her over and over again not to underestimate Tartalus. Diva sighed and looked worriedly down at Raven. It was not her own safety she was worried about, but Raven’s.

  Tallen noticed the direction of her gaze. “I shall protect her with my life,” he told her, a note of distinct pride in his voice. “The namura stone about her neck will keep her safe, too.”

  Then he turned swiftly. There were another six men approaching from the other side of the road. Tallen gave a disdainful smile.

  “That makes eight. Four each. Think you can manage, Meritocrat?”

  Diva’s lips were stretched back from her teeth. “Give me the Kwaidian Elders,” she replied, her voice taut with emotion and adrenaline. “You can have most of the Coriolans.”

  Tallen looked gratified. “I’d appreciate that.”

  They looked once at each other, and then, with the little girl in the road at both their backs, they turned to defend themselves.

  Diva’s face contorted as she leapt for the Kwaidians. There were two of them, both unknown to her, but both dressed in the way Kwaidian Elders always dressed. They looked slightly taken aback at the ferocity of her movement. They were bullies, she realized – keen to inflict damage on living things, but not prepared to be on the receiving end. That would be to her advantage. Her dagger flashed in the sunlight of Coriolis and her breath puffed out into the cool air as she closed with the two Elders.

  Raven dared not move, but her legs were still not strong, so she sank down into a sitting position on the beaten earth, feeling around her for some pebbles to play with. She felt rather lonely and couldn’t help thinking that she wished either her mother or Tallen would turn around to play with her. She felt quite cross with them. Then she rediscovered the blue stone hanging around her neck and smiled at it. The greens and blues could still be seen flashing inside it, like fire, sparkling in the light. She lifted it up in her hands and held it against the sky. That way, there were more flames in its interior, and the whole stone seemed for a moment to be edged with a deep cobalt blue. Raven smiled and cooed at it, forgetting everything that was going on around her.

  Tallen had dispatched one guard with some ease, but now the fight was in earnest. He had three Coriolans on his sword arm, and knew that his hasty promise to protect Raven would not be easy to maintain. And he had suddenly become aware of something strange. Now that he was about to lose his life and join Petra in the sacred marshes, he had discovered that he wasn’t quite ready. There was something indefinable pulling at him, tugging him to stay above the marshes for some time longer.

  He fought on, slipping on the track, and managed to wound one of the other men. They were part of Tartalus’s guard, he saw; he recognized two of them from the recent encounter they had had on their way to the Namuri village.

  “Your emptor too scared to come with you this time?” he taunted, panting a little with the effort of the fight.

  “You are not worth his personal attention, scum!” came back the quick answer.

  Tallen grinned wickedly. “Better Namuri scum than meritocratic sycophants,” he gasped, stepping hurriedly to one side to avoid a particularly nasty jab which threatened his abdomen. “You are merely dogs, barking at your master’s voice.”

  “We bite too, dirty thief,” snapped one of the attackers. “My sword will let you know exactly how deep.”

  Tallen leapt aside again, just in time, and managed to inflict some small damage on the attacker, who sna
tched back his sword arm with a cry.

  Tallen crowed victory, but then had to turn to the other guard. While he was fully occupied with this man, the one he had just wounded slipped behind the Namuri boy, and grabbed Raven from the path.

  Tallen saw the flash of material out of the corner of his eye and gave a bellow. He saw the large, bulky man begin to stride off down the path with his precious burden, but could not follow; his opponent had noticed the slight loss of concentration and was pressing home his advantage, forcing the Namuri boy to focus on one thing at a time.

  Diva had already dealt with one of the Kwaidians, who was now nursing a deep cut in his sword arm, one which had efficiently eliminated him from the battle. The other Kwaidian, together with two Coriolan guards, had taken up positions in front of her.

  She gave a wicked smile. “So, you are prepared to die for Tartalus, are you?” Her sword arm moved warningly. “I hope he pays you well.”

  The Elder from Kwaide – in fact still quite a young man, laughed in her face. “He is like us; he enjoys a chase, a fight, a … hunt.”

  “You like hunting people, do you?” Diva’s eyes were glittering. “And you like hunting small children, like Tartalus does?”

  The Kwaidian smiled. “I know you. You are the girl who started the war on Kwaide. You are responsible for the Elders losing everything. To kill you and slaughter your daughter will be a pleasure beyond anything: priceless. I will not be able to thank Tartalus enough for allowing me this opportunity.” He smiled.

  Diva gasped. The word slaughter seemed to fall into her brain like a piece of shrapnel, cutting through all her self-control. She gave a demented shriek of total rage.

  “Nobody is going to slaughter my daughter, you sorry excuse for a dung beetle.” She lunged forwards so fast that he barely had time to see the flash of metal, and buried her dagger in his torso. He gave a howl, and fell back, bleeding heavily.

  Diva smiled savagely at him, but the other men had closed in on her and she was having to use all her skill now to protect herself.

  Then she heard shouts, and a figure threw itself into the fight. Bennel, who had been waiting for them over a mile further down the path, had heard the disturbance and lost no time in reaching them.

  As soon as Tallen realized who had arrived, he disengaged from the man opposing him.

  “Bennel!” The Namuri’s voice was frozen with fear. “Take over! One of them has taken Raven into the marsh. I must follow. I am the only one who knows the secret ways.”

  “Go, hothead. I will take care of the problem here,” Bennel replied calmly. “Valhai Diva and I will mop these men up in a flash. We will meet you at the crossroads, where I left my family.”

  Tallen nodded his understanding and ran into the marshes. He knew which path the guard had taken, and it lead to a particularly treacherous area of quickmire. If the man was planning to make Raven disappear without a trace, he had headed in the right direction.

  He ran on and on through the short reedy grass which grew in the marshes. The man had not much of a start, and Tallen knew the ways like the back of his hand. But the boy’s heart was frozen. What if the guard had already reached his destination? What if he had already put the little girl into the quickmire?

  After a minute or two, he caught sight of the flash of light off a sword, and veered accordingly. They were on the left-hand trail, the one which led to the black swamp. That was not good news; it was one of the most dangerous areas in all the sacred marshes.

  But he was close now; he could smell his quarry up ahead, and the slight white mist which hung over the area was not enough to hide him any longer.

  Tallen ran even faster, his feet barely touching the grass, although he chose every step carefully. If he didn’t, it might be his last.

  Then the man was in front of him. Tallen felt a thrill of expectation travel physically right up and down his spine. He skidded to a halt on the bright green grass and then advanced on his quarry.

  “Put the little girl down,” he said quietly. “Put her down on the ground behind you and make your peace with the blue stone. You are about to meet whatever witless god made you in the first place.” The Namuri stood proudly erect in front of the fully-grown man, his body still, only his eyes promising vengeance.

  The guard hesitated and then realized that he could not fight with Raven under one arm. He grinned evilly, his eyes never leaving Tallen’s, and in one quick movement, threw the girl from him, directly into the quickmire. She bounced once on the grassy knoll and then lay, slightly winded, about to cry.

  “Raven!” Tallen shouted. A trusting pair of eyes looked up. “I want you to crawl over to that tree.” He pointed to a slender young papakura tree, one which was struggling to grasp a hold on life in an inhospitable place. “Stay underneath it, until I come for you. You know how to reach it?”

  The little girl looked at him solemnly, and then nodded. She turned and began to make her way to the tree, taking care to avoid the very greenest patches, and the pretty brown turf, just as he had taught her when they had been going through the marsh before, on their way to the camp.

  Tallen circled his quarry until he saw that Raven had reached the shade of the tree. “Now stay there! Do not move!”

  He saw her nod, and then was upon his opponent. He raised his sword arm over his head, and prepared to kill. The thought of the man flinging Raven into the quickmire to drown made his blood boil. He was sworn to protect this little girl, and he would now fulfill that promise. He attacked.

  The guard was trained, was in leather body armour and was very experienced. He seemed to have recovered from the previous wound to his sword arm, and he towered over Tallen, but the boy was undeterred. Nothing short of Diva could have stopped him now. He closed eagerly with the guard, and they began a fight to the death. It was slow, and very bloody.

  Gradually the grass around them became splattered with two types of blood, making the terrain slippery. Tallen fought on, grimly determined to remove the danger.

  The sound of the swords clashing became more spaced apart as the two opponents tired, but still sparks flew from the meeting of the blades.

  Tallen fought on, and on, and on. His youth gave him stamina; his anger gave him the determination not to yield.

  Ten minutes later the guard slumped down in his own blood, the remains of his life draining into the ground. His eyes still held a suspicion of surprise as they glazed into death; he had not thought one of the clan could fight so long and so well. His last breath rattled in his throat as it mingled with his blood to escape.

  Tallen stood over him, watching with dark impassive eyes as the man died. He saw the life evaporate from the body in front of him, and then looked across to the tree where Raven was sitting, as still as a statue.

  He took a step towards her but was brought up sharply. One of those last, desperate parries of the guard had cut deep; there was something wrong with his leg. He was telling it to move, but it wasn’t obeying. He looked down.

  There was a savage gash in the thigh. It went deep. He sighed. That would make things difficult. He moved with some difficulty to the nearest plant – the type with the pretty scarlet flowers Raven had admired a week earlier. They were entwiners, and he tore off a section of the plant, together with a couple of metres of its creeping shoots.

  He wound them around his leg, above the deep cut, which was spurting blood, and then used a more solid piece of root to twist it tighter and tighter until the blood flow had almost stopped.

  Then he hobbled over to Raven and held out his arms. “Come on, little one, it is time to find your mother.”

  Raven wrinkled her brow. “T’an hurt. ’Aven walk.”

  Tallen was so surprised that she could have taken so much in that he dropped his hands. Raven took hold of one of them and gave a small tug.

 
; “Come on, T’an! We go!”

  He allowed himself to be led through the dangerous quickmire, which Raven seemed to navigate almost by instinct. Then she led him past the dead guard.

  Diva’s daughter stared down at the body. “Bad man!” she sentenced, apparently not in the least disturbed by his hasty demise. Then she looked up trustingly at Tallen.

  “Where go?”

  Tallen felt something in his heart contract. He thought he had never seen such a brave little soul in his whole life. He pointed weakly to the right.

  Raven nodded stoutly. She picked up his hand again and began to lead the way, pulling him along after her. He followed, his leg dragging behind him along the grassy track, the plant creeper around it gradually turning red with blood.

  DIVA AND BENNEL, who assumed that Tallen had already taken Raven out of danger, and were unaware of recent events, reached the crossroads first. Bennel gave a sharp whistle and a woman with two children emerged from a thicket close by the road.

  “They insisted on coming with me as far as the crossroads,” he told Diva rather sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Diva smiled at the two children, who looked in awe of meeting a real meritocrat. “What are their names?”

  Bennel indicated the girl. “This is my daughter, Quenna. She is eight.” Then he drew the boy forwards. “And this is my son, who is two years older. His name is Sanjai.”

  Both children curtsied low. The girl spoke in a soft voice. “This is my mother, who asks to be commended to your trust, Valhai Diva. Her name is Lannie.” The older woman bowed even lower than her children had.

  Diva gave a small bow in return. “I … I apologize for the way we look. We were attacked on the road. My daughter is … my daughter has …” She couldn’t go on.

  Quenna and Sanjai stared up at the woman in front of them, awed. “Your hair is so black that it is almost blue,” said Quenna in hushed tones. Sanjai thought that he had never seen such a magnificent woman in all his life.