Sanctuary

by Nally, Fergal F

  Sanctuary

  By

  Fergal F. Nally

  Copyright © Fergal F. Nally 2014

  The moral right of Fergal F. Nally to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act, 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover image (Poulnabrone Portal Tomb, County Clare, Ireland) copyright © Fergal F Nally 2014

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1 Avalanche

  CHAPTER 2 Escape

  CHAPTER 3 The Valley

  CHAPTER 4 Nictiam

  CHAPTER 5 News

  CHAPTER 6 Plague

  CHAPTER 7 Evasion

  CHAPTER 8 Creed

  CHAPTER 9 Frost Giants

  CHAPTER 10 Towers of Numen

  CHAPTER 11 Fingal Rake

  CHAPTER 12 Raven Heart

  CHAPTER 13 Serpent of Chaos

  CHAPTER 14 Sacrifice

  CHAPTER 15 Ducet's Stand

  CHAPTER 16 Angel's Landing

  CHAPTER 17 Rafael

  CHAPTER 18 Flight

  CHAPTER 19 The Fall of Numibar

  CHAPTER 20 Seven

  CHAPTER 21 The Maze

  CHAPTER 22 Infiltration

  CHAPTER 23 Resolution

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Avalanche

  Luana looked up and heard her death.

  A deep crump came from the snow slope above. The ground moved under her. She looked around and threw herself towards some boulders on her right.

  Blinding white engulfed her. She was rammed deep into a recess between two of the boulders. A wall of snow swept over her and down the mountain. The avalanche took her breath away. The gods were angry again.

  Groaning, she opened her eyes. She was caught in a small pocket of air, entombed. Snow lay everywhere; the sky was gone. Darkness was complete. The boulders, by some good fortune had held fast and kept her alive. She moved first one arm, then the other and then tried her legs. Nothing broken.

  Disorientated and frightened she fought rising waves of panic within. She remembered something the old timer had told her. She gathered saliva in her mouth and spat. The spittle ran down her chin and told her which way was up. She started burrowing through the layers of snow. She knew she only had minutes to dig herself out, as the snow would become impacted in a short time.

  Her fingers became numb and her hands, stiff claws. She kept going and after an age, the snow changed becoming translucent with daylight. Her breathing quickened and with a supreme effort, she broke through the ceiling of her icy prison.

  Bright sunlight blinded her, she closed her eyes. A gentle breeze caressed her face. She was alive. She wondered about the others who had been on the slope behind her. She opened her eyes and looked around.

  No one.

  They had all perished. All six. The avalanche had been triggered on purpose to crush them. Punishment for their escape from the slave camp. Luana gathered her strength, pulled herself out of the snow and lay panting in the cold sunlight.

  She needed to get away from the mine fast. The Magisters might have finished with her but come darkness the blood drinkers would be out hunting. The sun was already on the wane; she only had a few hours of daylight left.

  Luana stood up, brushed her clothes and headed off down the slope. The tree line beckoned. She could see a green valley below. If she could find the river, she would be able to follow it to the Storm Sea. From there, the rest was guesswork. The other slaves had spoken about an island, a sanctuary for their kind. Somewhere out at sea.

  Everyone knew the Erthe's rivers drained eventually to the ocean. That would be her plan; to escape to the Storm Sea and onwards to sanctuary, to Echo Island. Numb feet carried her to the tree line and the spruce forest beyond. The trees were many and the terrain difficult to cross.

  She kept going, following the slope down. Branches scratched her face and arms. She wore her mining uniform of skullcap, leather tunic and breeks. Her hands, encased in mining gauntlets were protected from the worst of the cuts. She gave a wide berth to drops and crags. With patience and perseverance, she found a way through the upper reaches of the mountain forest.

  The sun's evening rays shone golden through the trees. She had concentrated so hard on her decent that she had lost track of time. Luana searched desperately for shelter, then nearly tripped on a root. Her breath became ragged and she shook. She needed shelter, food and warmth. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her.

  A twig snapped to her right. She crouched and froze. Another sound followed. A shadow moved a stone's throw away. Luana's hand closed around her dirk, the one she had taken from the guard felled by Moose. The blade glinted in the dying light.

  A deer stepped out of the shadow and stood silhouetted between two trees. Its breath misted the air; its demeanour alert. Then, as if summoned, it turned and vanished into the darkness. Luana rose and went to where the deer had been. She bent down and examined the ground. She squinted and smiled. An animal trail.

  She chose to follow the track down in the remaining light. She made good progress for a while. Then she stopped and let out a low whistle. A rocky outcrop rose up before her. A huge boulder rested against the rocks forming a natural recess in the gap beneath. This would be her shelter for the night.

  Luana approached the boulder and explored the rocks. There were no signs of animal occupation. She gathered dead wood for a fire and erected a screen of fallen branches and leaves to hide the firelight from the outside world. Once her basic shelter was finished, she lit her fire with flint and steel.

  She crawled beneath the boulder and lay beside her fire. The ground was dry and she had a bed of leaves and grass to lie on. She emptied her pockets and ate a meagre meal of stale biscuits and hard cheese. The heat from the fire worked its magic and soon she was asleep.

  In her dream, Luana was back in the slave mines. Her friend Rumi saw things; things no one else could see. She could delve into others' past lives and sometimes even the future. Past conversations with Rumi bubbled up in Luana's memory.

  "Luana, you got that name from your brothers. You grew up on the streets of Numibar. By day you were good kids but by night, well…" Rumi smiled.

  She remembered Moose and the old timer looking at each other, wry smiles on their faces. The cold nights had been the worst. They had mined soul gems by day, all activity ceased at night; that was when the blood drinkers came out. Luana and the other slaves were kept in damp pits underground. They lived on memories of home, family and happier times.

  Rumi had a way of bringing them back, of making their dreams vivid. Rumi was special, her gift remarkable and now she was dead along with Moose and the others; victims of the avalanche.

  The old timer's voice came to her in the monochrome dreamscape.

  "Tomorrow is another day Luana. Remember, never look back, don't be held prisoner by the mistakes of the past. Turn each page of your life as if it was your first."

  She saw the fearlessness in his eyes and the truth there. She would miss her friends; she would not miss the mines. She would do this for them; she would succeed and have vengeance. The rest of her dre
am became a vague blur and she slipped into oblivion.

  Luana woke to bone numbing cold. She shivered and could barely move her stiffened muscles. Slowly, she rubbed life back into her deadened limbs. She managed to restart the fire using the remainder of the wood from the night before.

  The flames grew and cheered her up. Her spirit rekindled with the fire's warmth, she rose and moved around outside the shelter to generate some warmth. Her breath frosted the air; she was starving. The last of her food was gone.

  She watched as the sun rose over the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. That way led east, she needed to head west to the Storm Sea. She doused the fire. Putting the night behind her, she focused on the terrain and headed off down the mountainside.

  After three hours of energy sapping descent, she came across a trail. Not an animal track but a human one. Overgrown in places and with no sign of recent use. She decided to follow it. The trail descended steeply but safely and took her to a level clearing and a wooden shack. She crouched and watched, alert for any sign of life.

  Nothing moved. Wind rustled the treetops overhead, birds chattered in the forest. Everything was as it should be. Luana stood and approached the shack, the dirk in her hand. She reached the door, which was boarded up. It looked like a hunting lodge. She went around the building and found a loose shutter at the back that she managed to unlock.

  The window itself opened without too much difficulty. She climbed in and stood in the simple, one roomed shelter. There was a bed, table, chair and fireplace. In the corner was a chest and sideboard. She searched the room but found nothing of use. Her hunger was unbearable. She sat on the bed and threw her dirk on the wooden floor in frustration.

  The floor made a hollow sound. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light streaming in through the back window. Kneeling, she examined the floorboards. She ran her fingers up and down the wood and came across a join and then another. A cleverly concealed trapdoor lay beneath her hands.

  Pushing and prodding, she probed the floor for an opening. Her fingers pressed a knot in one of the boards, she heard a click. A section of the floor sprang up and she saw a space below. Luana lifted the secret door and stared down into the inky darkness. Light, she needed light.

  She went to the front door and pushed hard, it was held fast by wood and nails on the outside. She tried the nearest window and had better luck, it opened and she managed to push the shutters apart. Daylight streamed into the shack chasing the shadows away. She went back to the opening in the floor and saw a ladder leading down into a room below. She made a decision and descended into the cellar.

  She reached the bottom of the ladder; her feet found a dirt floor. Stacked shelves lined the walls. She saw a barrel and containers in one corner. She reached out, explored the shelves, and came across a covered object. Her eyes grew wide as she removed its silk wrapping. A mask. A beautiful bejewelled mask returned her gaze. What was this place? What had she found?

  She looked at the other shapes on the shelves and took each up in turn, unwrapping them. All masks; all intricately carved and stunningly decorated. Some were expressionless while others depicted various emotions; anger, mirth, pity, cruelty, fear. Unease crept over her. This was no trapper's shelter; she had stumbled across something else.

  Luana approached the barrel and containers in the corner and removed their lids. She nearly fainted with joy. A selection of preserved meats; smoked and salted, greeted her. In the smaller containers, she found hard biscuits and in one oversize jar, she found honey.

  She fell upon the food and tore into the meat. It had been such a long time since she had tasted anything so good. In the mines, they were served a daily ration of foul-tasting slop. It was just as well their cells had been ill lit, she mused. Her thoughts returned to the feast in hand. She sampled venison, then mutton. The biscuits were dry and hard but when dipped in the honey they made a fine combination.

  Her stomach rejoiced at the unexpected meal. She lost herself in the moment and spent the next few minutes gorging until she was full. She stopped, unable to eat more and sank to the floor, her heart racing. The salt made her mouth dry and she became thirsty. She needed a drink. One of the masks that had dropped on the floor caught a ray of light from above. Its expression; one of horror. Luana shivered.

  She climbed out of the cellar and left the shack in search of water. She came across a stream nearby. Whoever had built the shack knew their business. She drank her fill and explored further. She came to a bare crag and looked out on the river valley below.

  The valley was broad and lush. She saw the odd cluster of cottages but the land was mostly a mixture of trees and tilled fields. She would have ample cover to make her way to the Storm Sea. The river itself was young and vigorous as it followed its path down the valley.

  This was the second day following her escape. There was no sign of pursuit from the mines. The Magisters had obviously written off any survivors from the avalanche. She was free. The only giveaway betraying her status was the slave tattoo on her upper arm; easily hid.

  She decided to spend the night in the shack to rest and build her strength for the day ahead. It would protect her from the blood drinkers who stalked the night. She sat on the outcrop and let her mind wander. The breeze caressed the trees behind her. A chill filled the air; the first sign of autumn. She could not have made her escape in the winter months. Fortune had been on her side but not that of Moose or Rumi.

  Luana's mind flew back to her home in the great city of Numibar. Her life had been a series of losses. First her mother, then her father. Her mother lost to the plague, her father to the debt collectors. She was sold into slavery as part of the settlement. She wondered if she would ever see her father again.

  The family had disintegrated but it was not his fault. Just circumstances, she told herself. Not a day went by that she did not think of her parents and what might have been.

  A childhood memory of overheard conversation between her parents came to her.

  "Luana sees things. Things that aren't there."

  "It's just childish imaginings my love, don't worry. She'll grow out of it."

  "She did it again today. At the market."

  "What?"

  "The cards…you know, the tricksters. Well we watched one dupe a couple of young farm lads; just paid they were, flush with coin. They soon lost, but Luana read every move, got every card right. I asked her how she did it; she just shrugged."

  "She's a quick eye right enough, but that's not necessarily anything special."

  "But then we went past the catacombs on the way home. Luana stopped and started talking to herself. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she'd made a friend there. A little girl she called Layita. I didn't know what to do, so I just told her to say goodbye to her friend as we'd to get home."

  "Children often have invisible friends; just childhood fantasy."

  "This was…different. There was something about her eyes. They were so…oh, I don't know…open." Her mother paused then continued. "I often catch her whispering to herself but there's no one there. It's not a game; it's so strange… I worry about her. She sees things, people that aren’t there. It's not natural…"

  Luana remembered other, similar overheard conversations from her parents before she was sold into slavery. She even remembered Layita, the little girl at the catacombs, such piercing eyes.

  She also remembered praying to die.

  Her friend Layita had wanted her to stay at the catacombs to play and meet other children just like her. But, she had said in order for Luana to stay she had first to die. Luana did not understand, but each night before going to sleep, she would diligently ask the gods to take her life so she could join Layita and play with the other children.

  It never happened. She always woke to the same harsh world the following day. As she grew older, she forgot Layita and moved on. But she continued to see things; things other people could not see. She learned to be discreet, circumspect, wary. She
held it in and did not share her secret world.

  Moose had seen it. He recognised something in her because he also saw secret things. Moose approached her the day she arrived at the mine. He took her under his wing and watched out for her. They got on well. Moose hummed tunelessly to make the day go by. Luana became his second shadow. They were never far apart.

  Moose was a shi'anci; a soulless. He had sold his soul to the Spirit Seeker sect in the Nictiam borderlands.

  "I needed protection and money, for my family. They promised to look after us; the price, my soul. Didn't have much choice. The prison brigade was after us. I managed to stay one step ahead of them until the last day. The Spirit Seekers offered money to buy my family's freedom and sanctuary. It was painless; they took my soul in exchange for their freedom. A second chance…" His voice trailed off.

  "Once the prison brigade left town the Spirit Seekers double crossed us and sold us into slavery anyway. The only thing keeping me alive in here is the thought of getting even with those bastards." When Moose thought of what had happened he became despondent.

  Luana would try to coax him out of his dark moods but he would admonish her.

  "Leave me be girl. I'm tending to my hurt."

  Rumi was different; she came from Numibar's lowland slums where the homes were built on stilts due to seasonal flooding. She was a happy person. Luana sensed Rumi carried a great sadness within. She was beautiful but her beauty was forged in pain.

  Rumi was an orphan; her family was caught in the wrong side of the city during the purges. The Magisters decided to cull the population of the city slums. So they culled one family in five. The first of the great purges. Two more followed the following year.

  Rumi had not been at home the day the soldiers had called on her family. Her parents and two brothers were taken away. She never saw them again; she was six years old.

  A family her mother had been friendly with took her in. They had two girls and a boy. Rumi was grief stricken; it had taken her a long time to come to terms with her loss. Luana reflected on her and others' losses. This life was a never-ending journey of pain.