✽✽✽
A long line of shadow snaked its way across the clearing as birds darted through the crisp air, hunting the whirr and glint of tiny insects. The towering forest was dipping to grey and cool blues, while high in the tallest trees the leaves tipped to gold in the setting sun.
On the ground, Tey winced and rubbed his face where a sharp twig had scratched it as he peered through the leaves. He was hiding, crouching at the base of the old oak, its low hanging branches sheltering him from searching eyes. The boy shivered, the air felt chill and he rubbed his arms, longing for the warmth of his woollen cloak. But it wasn’t here; it was stuffed uselessly into the chest by his bed. Scowling, Tey peered again out through the branches. How long, he wondered, would it take for his father to look around and realise he was missing out in the cold?
They had been standing - his parents, grandmother, and aunt by the table, talking for an age, ever since they had returned from the forest, but no one seemed to have even noticed he was gone. After a moment, Ba Set turned and wound her arms around his father and closed her eyes. Tey frowned. Let him go. Let him go so he can come and find me. Please…
Sighing, he shifted his position. His back hurt where he had scraped against the rough bark, and his legs were beginning to go numb. Miserably, he struggled to his feet and stood squeezed behind the branches of the ancient oak. In the quiet, the boy could hear his mother’s voice rising on the evening air.
‘I flew higher,’ Ba Set was facing her sister and mother, and to Tey her voice sounded strained and thin. ‘It is as we feared. The Lord and ladies have returned to the castle, but the rest, they are not letting go, not even for the dying of the day.’
Tey squinted through the overhanging leaves and his breath caught. His mother looked exhausted, her shoulders were trembling and she hid her face in his father’s chest. Sitting on the bench beside, Ash Kit gently stroked her sister’s hand. Anxious now to hear more, Tey extracted himself from the tight clasp of the branches as carefully as he could, and tiptoed closer.
‘What they search for, I wish I knew,’ continued his mother. ‘For then we could recreate it, summon their intention with illusion, dream and desire, and send them seeking far beyond our own sanctuary. But,’ she paused and said quietly, ‘we do not know what it is… They are not interested in the oak wood by the river, nor the open heath land where the deer graze, but are circling the hidden paths of the old forest through the woods of lime and beech.’
Ba Set took a deep, steadying breath and tilted her head back, watching the flight of the swallows as they flashed through the clearing. ‘Hear me well,’ she said, her voice rising and her gaze dropped to her son as he crept toward her. ‘They are not giving up,’ she said flatly, her face tight with strain. ‘They are getting closer with each and every moment.’
Tey shuddered and stopped dead in his tracks. Was he coming? He wondered, staring into the surrounding forest, gripped by a violent urge to flee. Was the mad knight coming or had he too returned to the castle?
Panic thudded through his body as he stared up into the leaves. They had lost their sharp red glow and were swaying calmly in the blue-grey light, a light breeze rippling through the very top of the branches.
He blinked; half hidden in the darkening shadows of the trees, a bald tubby being with protruding eyes and a wide grin was beckoning to him furiously. It was Gimbal, and his long knobbly fingers were gesturing to a stream of lithe figures racing though the branches above.
Impulsively, Tey took a step towards the darkening woods, his fears forgotten, imagining the tunes he would play to the whirling dancing faeries.
‘Tey,’ a firm voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned. His mother was watching him carefully, her body still enfolded within the warmth of her husband. ‘Do not go,’ she said, ‘not this night. The sprites you follow would be no protection should these searchers find you alone in the forest.’
Without stopping, the boy scowled. Of course they would, he thought indignantly. She doesn't know everything. And he quickened his pace towards the trees.
‘Son,’ his father’s voice cut sharply behind him, ‘heed your mother and do what she says. The knight, Ulrick, remains in the forest.’
Tey felt the blood drain out of his face and his delighted mood vanished. He whirled to his parents in alarm.
‘Yes,’ said his mother evenly, ‘the young knight stays, leading the whey faced abbot with a retinue of dour monks and a handful of armed foresters at his heels. Do not be so foolish as to run off into the woods tonight.’ She looked hard at Tey. ‘This noble bodes us ill, I fear, and I don't know why.’
✽✽✽
The first star sparkled as the men disappeared into the darkness of the surrounding trees, each with a sharp blade in their possession. Tey’s father and Martin were seeking branches, thick and tipped with leaves, long enough to conceal the cluster of huts scattered across the clearing. The women were elsewhere, walking the edges of the camp in single file through the greying light. They stopped every now and again, and laid their hands palm down on the earth, their low song spiralling quietly around them.
Tey crept along behind as quietly as he could, with his head down, careful not to be seen. He was meant to be in the forest with the men hunting for smaller branches, but he had run off across the clearing after his mother, anxious to know more about the magical seals the women were setting to protect their home.
They set them morning and every night as regular as the sun rose and fell in the sky. But how? Tey wondered, frowning and staring at the ground. How did they work and how would it ever be enough? The question circled around in his mind and tonight, no matter what he did, it wouldn’t let him be.
A shudder of cold air rippled across the boy’s back, and he looked up with a start. The three women had stopped and were standing bunched together in the shadows, their hair long and loose and identical golden eyes watching him closely under the trees. In the centre stood his grandmother, small and fragile, though as she spoke, her voice rang hard with disapproval.
‘Go back,’ she said and her gaze was unrelenting. ‘Boy, this is not for you. You do not have the eyes for magic. Go back to the men.’ She said no more, but turned and walked away through the trees with her back straight and her chin held high. His mother and aunt followed without a backward glance.
Tey crumpled and his eyes stung with tears; his need to know draining away to a hollow empty ache.
Why wouldn’t they tell him? He wondered miserably, and who cared if he couldn’t see? Why couldn’t they at least tell him something? Hurt filled his eyes and slipped down his cheeks as he sank wretchedly to his knees.
‘Those of us who work with power,’ came an unexpected voice. ‘We can see it.’ Hesitantly Tey looked up. Through the blur of tears he could see his aunt Ash Kit a few paces away, crouching down with her back to him, her hands splayed out firmly on the earth.
‘We can see it spiralling up from the ground like smoke. This is the energy of the air and of the earth, and we weave it, shape it, sing it to our own design and set it in a great circle of protection around the camp. Thus the magic happens.’
‘But how does it work?’ whispered Tey, his heart in his throat, not daring to believe he would hear an answer.
‘We weave first a pattern of distraction,’ she said softly, turning around with a smile. ‘If any stranger should find themselves coming too close for safety, a deer bark or a bird call will distract them, compelling them away to another, more distant part of the forest.’ She paused, gazing away into the trees. ‘But if someone is directly hunting us,’ she said softly, ‘then we need a working that is far stronger, something that will need the energy of us all.’
‘But what? And how does it work?’ Tey stood, his heart lifting in hope. ‘Can you teach me?’
His aunt stared at him, as if weighing up how much to reveal, then rose to her feet. Ash Kit was the same height as her mother and sister, and her tawny eyes were level with his as
she stood straight beneath the trees.
‘That level of working magic is difficult to understand,’ she said at last, and raised her hands as though feeling for the very fabric of the air itself. ‘You need to see it,’ she murmured, ‘sense it, taste it, feel it with every pulse of your being, but if you don’t …’
Pausing, his aunt looked at him sadly before shaking her head. ‘Go child, it is not for you. Your grandmother has spoken, you do not have the Sight,’ Ash Kit lifted her chin. ‘Help the men with the last of the wood, and leave us to finish working the land.’
Without waiting for a reply, his aunt turned and walked away with her hands outstretched, sweeping them over the ground as if she were caressing the weave of the air before her. Deflated, Tey watched her go, a small figure melting into the shadows between the trees. As she walked, a line of light flared behind her, rising, like a faint bluish haze looping up from the earth.
Tey blinked. ‘Hey,’ he cried out loudly, ‘hey, I can see it!’ But his aunt didn't stop, and after another breath, the swirling brightness winked out as though it had never been.
✽✽✽
By the time Tey sat down at the table to eat a cold supper, the first star had risen and the work was finished. All that could be seen of the wooden huts was a dense line of slender trees, waving against the dark of the sky.
His father and Martin ate in silence, each lost in thought as their eyes stared blankly into the heart of the unlit fire. At the far corner of the table, the women were talking in quiet tones, their long hair obscuring their faces.
Tey forced down a few mouthfuls of stew before laying his spoon on the table. Around him he could hear branches knocking gently in the wind, like they did every night as the sun edged below the horizon. The sound should have been comforting, but Tey knew this night was nowhere near normal, as a madman was out there in the darkness, searching for him and not giving up.
Moaning in fear, Tey lay his head down on the table and squeezed his eyes shut. The wood felt cold and rough against his cheek, but he pressed his face into it harder, trying to force himself inside, hoping it would swallow him up and make him disappear.
At the murmur of his name, Tey’s eyes flew open. His mother and father had risen, their faces grim. Motioning to join them quickly, Hew hurried after Ba Set, who was now striding across the clearing. Following a few steps behind was his grandmother, Au Set, while, deep in conversation, Martin and Ash Kit brought up the rear.
The adults stopped on a secluded piece of ground. Above them the sky was clear and fringed by a circle of trees. At a nod from his mother, they joined hands and waited, their eyes trained on Ba Set standing alone in the centre, her arms outstretched with palms facing up towards the heavens.
With a cry of alarm, Tey raced over to join them, squeezing his body into the gap beside his father. He breathed out a loud sigh of relief; he couldn’t face being left out, no matter what was going on.
Hew nodded at him. ‘Got here just in time. Now let’s show these women who can sing.’ And smiling grimly, his father squeezed Tey’s hand tight.
Under the glittering sky, the trees stood tall and straight, like sentinels towering high above him. Titling his head back, Tey let the delicate shimmers of starlight wash over his upturned face. Out of the corner of his eye, a streak of silver flashed leaving a trail of bright song in its wake, the final notes of faery singing farewell to the sun.
With a deep breath, Ba Set raised her open hands higher into the air, followed a beat later by Au Set and Ash Kit. With closed eyes, the women began a soft, undulating tone, creating a layered triad of sound. Their voices rippled, seeming to rise and fall, and then repeat, as though waiting, cycling, ever patient.
A husky cough erupted above his head and Tey glanced up. His father was pulling breath in hard through his nostrils, his eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. Adjusting his stance, Hew coughed once more before breathing out his own gravelly tone. Low and quiet, the note skimmed over the boy’s head before falling away to silence. Tey waited, gripping his father’s hand, but then it came again. His father’s voice gathered strength, becoming louder and more assured as it warmed beneath the layered harmonies of the women.
The pace changed. Picking up speed, the voices throbbed and pulled, becoming a wordless chant that swept around the circle, enveloping the singers in a rush of power. Martin tilted his head back, his voice booming out in a wide-open note of abandon. Laughing, Ash Kit matched her tone to his and their voices merged, rising in harmony to the heavens.
With his chest vibrating and his head lurching as the sound around him swelled in intensity, Tey’s breath came quick. Gripping his father’s hand hard, he tried to calm his trembling. Next to him, his grandmother sang out with a passion that belied her age. Her head tipped back to the sky, her arms were raised, and the sound rippling in her throat, poured out in exaltation, seeming to crackle and spark with colour.
With each breath the song spun faster; with each breath the separate voices mixed and merged. As Tey watched, Ash Kit sang with all her heart, her silvery tone mixing with the rich brown tone of the woodsman, and the deep shadowed green tone of Hew.
A cool blue note shot high overhead, cutting through to the apex of the circle. Ba Set stood with her feet bare and toes splayed, as weighted and as rooted as the trees. Pausing for a moment, she drew in a lungful of air and closed her eyes before singing another stream of energy up into the night. The sound hung, illuminated, as the circle of voices below rose to meet it.
‘Shield us, cover us, hide us from this night!’ Shining with joy and defiance, Ba Set cried out a stream of words. Indecipherable, and with a clicking, rhythmic cadence, they burst into the sky.
Tey stared, his heart pounding in fright. Blue licks of flame were rising up through the earth beneath his mother, engulfing her feet and flaring up her legs.
His eyes darted wildly around the circle, but no one else seemed to notice. The others were standing as one - their heads tipped back, their mouths open, streaming out a torrent of colour and sound. Tey whirled back to his mother. Bursts of iridescent blue were searing out of the top of her head and through her outstretched fingertips, towards the sky.
Abruptly his heart dropped with a deep internal thud and his body flashed hot and cold. A sudden numbness gripped his feet. Tey looked down. Loops of golden, molten heat were scorching up out of the ground, up through the soles of his bare feet, clutching him to the earth. A beat later, and it flashed up into his legs, up into his bones and muscles, gripping his limbs.
Tey struggled, frightened beyond measure, as bolts of energy shot up his back and into his neck, where it thudded and pounded on his vocal chords like a live thing trying to force its way out of his throat. Terrified, he opened his mouth to scream but out poured a fierce stream of sound that vibrated with all the might of the earth herself.
Tey shut his jaws tightly with a snap, mortally afraid of the power surging through his being. It felt as though the very earth had woken up beneath his feet and was pushing her will through the tiny vortex that was himself.
His body shuddered; this had never happened before. The last time the family had met in the circle, he had stood hand in hand with his father, taking part, respectful, at times lending his voice but sometimes not, content to let the voices of the others swirl and build above.
There was a jolt from the ground and Tey jerked. The energy was building now, stronger, as though more confident of him as a vessel. His feet began to throb, as power, now pure and blue in colour, surged up through his legs, scorching them from the inside. Frantically, Tey closed his mouth and opened his eyes, then opened his mouth and closed his eyes, panicked, not knowing what else to do, sure that he was too small to contain this immense rising energy, terrified it would split him apart.
Tey wrenched his eyes open, frantic for help, and reached out his arms in desperation to Ba Set. His mother stood crowned with a deep blue flame, her long dark hair sparking, spitting w
ith power. She didn't respond. As the adults in the circle sang louder, Ba Set swept her hands across the sky, and a flame rose from the crowns of both Au Set and Ash Kit, arching overhead.
Tey widened his eyes. From each arc, an immense curtain of energy was forming - like a transparent cloak, gathering, ready, poised to drop down over the circle.
He gasped. Mesh them in. Cut them off. Panicked, the boy dropped to his knees, unable to breathe.
Ba Set, oblivious to the terrors rocking her son, stood transcendent and glowing with power. With a cry, she called on the energy of the song to rise even higher, to shield them, to protect them, to set them free forever from the terrors of the world.
She felt for the shape of the song swelling around her, preparing to draw the apex closed when the voices peaked for the final time.
At the bottom of the circle, Tey was shaking violently, his eyes glazed in terror, blue-white flame surging up his spine, pounding on his clenched teeth, trying to force them open to meet the call of his mother. Above him the song vibrated, calling to every nerve, every cell, every sinew of his body.
Silence held as the circle drew in a final collective breath, readying for the surge of sound, which would be shot like a great, single act of magic up into the sky.
Power knifed his body and Tey shook uncontrollably, his teeth almost cracking with the strain of clamping his jaw shut. He felt the earth below urging the song to be released. Teetering, almost completely overwhelmed, he felt like he was drowning, suffocating. He knew he was about to be split asunder.
‘Now!’ cried Ba Set.
Power jolted, an ice-hot searing blue and Tey could hold back no longer.
He screamed.
A howling, piercing sound ripped through with fear and confusion as it shot past his aching jaws, up through the unclosed apex of the circle, and out into the darkness. A sharp angular red, the sound stabbed at the night sky, frantic, crying, calling desperately for help.
Soul Flyer Page 14