Kelfor- the Orthomancers

by Gillian Andrews

  I look down, ashamed that it didn’t occur to me at the time.

  It should have. When I became the orthomancer I became responsible for everybody else in Kelfor.

  It also makes me feel constrained, trapped. I don’t like the sensation. However, Furian is right.

  “I am sorry. I won’t do that again.”

  Furian nods curtly. “Good.”

  Kalyka has snuggled up to me, to give me her body warmth. Hers is a comforting presence. “I’ll take us all up to the surface in a moment,” I tell her. “We have to decide what to do, remember?”

  There is a sudden flurry of movement from the tree bridge. The others turn to push me out of sight behind them, clustering to protect me. Furian and Jethran step forward, ready to defend us all.

  Then there are gasps of surprise. It is Torch, with Koban and Zivan. They have appeared, in mantles of firehorns, where the vortex almost meets the tree bridge.

  Torch leaves Koban to hold up Zivan and runs along the tree toward me, shedding firehorns as he comes. His face is desperately worried.

  He lurches to a stop in front of me. Then he abandons all his principles and hugs me tightly. His face is all twisted up with worry. He’s making little wailing sounds of worry.

  I burst into tears. “How did you get here? Is your mother badly hurt?”

  He shakes his head and walks with me aside from the others, out of hearing. He holds one finger out to me in answer to my first question. Seraph is perched right on the end.

  I take the tiny creature into my palm. It must have stayed with Torch. Surprising. “This means you are an orthomancer, too, Torch.”

  Torch shakes his head. He looks around to make sure nobody is looking, then takes an imaginary amulet and makes signs of guarding it against his chest. I understand immediately. I asked him to take care of the amulet. He carried it for nearly the whole of that long journey. “You think that proximity to the amulet can be the reason?”

  Torch tilts his head and gives a half shrug to show me he is not sure.

  “I understand. Just a theory. Still, at least I know you can use the firehorns as well. I am not the only orthomancer!”

  Torch gives me a horrified stare. He obviously hadn’t thought about it like that, and now that he does he knows it might take him away from his skulks. He shakes his head, his eyebrows almost meeting in a frown. He points at Seraph and then at me. I can see the whites of his eyes.

  “You want me to say I sent Seraph to you?”

  His face clears. Relief.

  I have to laugh at his expression. “All right, but I can’t see why you don’t want anybody else to know you have this ability. It would give me more freedom. Furian is about to confine me to barracks!”

  He surveys the tree bridge and the cave. He winces. I can sympathize. Torch is made for open spaces, not this shining chasm. I quite like the rift; he would suffocate down here.

  “All right. I could never make you live down here in Kelfor. You can stay up on the surface with the skulks. We’ll need the food they find, in any case.”

  He brightens. He reaches around his neck and takes out the amulet I dropped up on the flat rock. He hands it to me.

  I slip Seraph inside the locket. The firehorn is quite content to curl up there again. A strange house for any creature. I wonder if he is aware of being constricted, like Torch is down here. He can’t be; he appears quite happy to return to what has been his home for centuries.

  There is so much we don’t know. It will take us years to find out.

  Koban is talking to Furian. The Scoriat’s voice is low and insistent. I wander over toward them, and they make way for me to join in the conversation.

  “After the Thrall’s attack on the rest of the Scoriats, their attitude has changed,” he tells us. “They want to stay.”

  “Stay?”

  “Stay. Here. With you all. So do I.”

  “But ... but they are Scoriats. They obey the Raths. They can’t help themselves.”

  Koban frowns. “The obedience does seem to have limits as to distance. None of us currently feel any pull at all. That only lasted up to the Plains of Teygar. After that we became quite autonomous.”

  Surely he can’t expect us simply to accept our old enemies? “What would happen if the Raths came to the South Pole?”

  A shade of annoyance crosses Koban’s face. “We can’t know ... but exactly how likely do you think that is? The Raths never venture out of their domes. You know that!”

  “They could send other Scoriats.”

  He is doubtful. “They could, I suppose. It is much more likely that they will assume we have all perished in the desert. If so, they will not consider it prudent to risk further troops. Not with a Thrall on the loose. They won’t know of its demise.”

  He has a point. I try to think logically about all this, but I can’t help being wary. “You are asking us to trust our enemy. The Scoriats have been our gaolers for centuries.”

  “That was before the Thrall. Besides, we are Inmuri as well.”

  “Half Inmuri.”

  “Half Inmuri, then. What I mean is that we are victims just as much as you are. More, in fact, because we were spliced. Our genes were tampered with. And now ... now we are to be used as fodder for their experiments! What future do you suppose we have got?” For the first time since I met him, Koban looks really angry.

  Put like that ... he has a point.

  Furian is touching my arm. “It may be a solution,” he says to both of us. His eyes take in the others, who have shuffled closer. He raises his voice slightly to include them all in the conversation. “We Inmuri can never overcome the Raths. There are too few of us left, and we are too weak. The Scoriats could though. The Scoriats could take Hethor back and hold it. Against the Raths, or the Vessans. Maybe even against more Thralls.”

  We exchange glances. Furian presses his lips together. “Think about it,” he urges. “The Scoriats can stay up on the surface. There is no reason to allow them access to Kelfor itself. If none of them return, the Raths will assume we have all perished. If even one of the Scoriats were to return, the truth would be known.”

  Oh. I realize what he is saying. He means that we must trust them or kill them.

  Koban is still for a few seconds before handing his blaster over to Furian, telling us silently that he is prepared to abide by our decision.

  The rest of us stare at each other.

  For me, in the end, there is no hesitation. I walk over to Koban’s side and stand next to him. He has my vote.

  Torch joins me. Then Zivan, even though she detests the Scoriats. Then Kalyka, then Linnith.

  Doven takes a little time to follow Linnith.

  That leaves only Vannis and Furian. Furian gives a half smile. He puts the blaster down and steps across to Koban. He gives him a stiff hug and a small slap on the back, welcoming him into our small fold.

  “You will have to act as mediator,” he tells the Scoriat. “You will be the only member of the Scoriats allowed down here. At least for the time being.”

  “I am happy to do that.”

  Vannis steps across the intervening distance to the rest of us. He does so unwillingly, his feet dragging. “I sincerely hope we won’t live to regret this decision,” he says coldly.

  “So do I,” says Furian, looking around at us all. “At least we got here. In the end.”

  I bite my lip. “This is not the end of the story. It doesn’t finish here.”

  Furian grins. It is infectious. It makes him look much younger than I thought he could. “No, Remeny. It doesn’t finish here. Finding Kelfor was only the start. But it is a good start. It gives us a future.”

  Yes. It gives us a future.

  “Let’s go tell the others. They will be worried.” My doubts vanish. I lay one hand gently on Torch’s arm and take Koban’s fingers in my other.

  “Well, then,” I say. “Time to take Torch back to his skulks. To take Koban back to Ammeline. And to tell Rannyl and thos
e Scoriats that they’d better make themselves comfortable up there! Anyone else want to come?”

  Kalyka runs up to me, leapfrogging onto my shoulders as I dip toward the ground, grinning. She leans forward and threads her arms around my neck.

  “I wish Grandpa were here,” she mutters against my hair.

  “I know, Kally.” I look around the wonderful colors of Kelfor and think of the people who died for us. I can never forget them. They led us to success, to this new reality. “He is here. They all are.”

  Linnith walks up shyly, a question on her face. She and Doven are holding hands. I gesture for them to join us. They link with Koban on his other side.

  I look along the little line, raising my eyebrows to ask if they are all ready. They nod back. We raise our arms together.

  Kally gives a shriek of excitement.

  We dive forward off the bridge and into the vortex. We begin to freefall into our future, welcomed by the firehorns.

  I am an orthomancer and I live in Kelfor.

  Gillian Andrews is also the author of

  The Ammonite Galaxy series:

  Valhai

  Kwaide

  Xiantha

  Pictoria

  The Lost Animas

  The Namura Stone

  The Trimorphs

  Bundle editions (digital only):

  Ammonite Planets (Valhai, Kwaide and Xiantha)

  Ammonite Stars (Pictoria and The Lost Animas)

  Table of Contents

  Rights

  Dedication

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