Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms

by Mark Whiteway

  Shann caught the eye of one little boy, no more than six turns old. She smiled at him. He turned away and buried his head in his mother’s skirts.

  “I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” Lyall spoke up.

  The dark haired man continued, “You said that if we asked, you would leave and not return.”

  “Yes,” Lyall affirmed.

  “Then we would ask that you leave and not return.” From the wagon behind her, she heard Alondo curse under his breath.

  Lyall gave a slight bow, then turned on his heel, leading his graylesh back the way they had come.

  “What is that?” It was a woman’s voice from the crowd. With their eyes fixed on the exchange between the two men, no-one had noticed the Chandara hop down from the back of the wagon and scamper over. The creature stood erect on its rear hind legs, its head cocked to one side. “I Am Boxx.”

  Some in the gathering started to back away. A young girl screamed. Keris interposed herself between Boxx and the milling crowd, staff at the ready. “Wait.” The hubbub subsided before a commanding voice. A small older man stepped forward. He was well dressed by village standards, with a faded green jacket and matching cap. Shann was vaguely reminded of an older version of Alondo.

  The older man’s face was filled with wonder. “You are Chandara.”

  “You Are Kelanni,” Boxx responded. The man in the green jacket laughed infectiously. Shann could sense the assembly relaxing. Keris returned her staff to the sleeve at the back of her tunic.

  “It certainly is Chandara.” The older man’s gaze was fixed on the little creature. “But it is a very long way from its forest. It is travelling with you?”

  “Yes,” Lyall confirmed.

  “Incredible. Tell me,” the older man addressed Boxx directly, “these you are travelling with, are they servants of the Prophet?”

  Boxx replied in its thin high tone. “They Do Not Serve The Prophet. They Seek To Destroy His Device. For All Kelanni.”

  “These people are not servants of the Prophet,” the older man declared.

  The man with the long dark hair scowled. “You would take the word of this…this thing?”

  “Forgive us,” the man in the green jacket addressed Lyall. “Grief and loss can cause people to give way to fear and suspicion.” He made eye contact with the dark haired man. “Whatever you may think of them, Mevan, Chandara do not lie. Nor do they serve the Prophet.” He turned back to Lyall. “I am Ernan, Headman of Pinnar. Our village is humble, but you are welcome here for as long as you wish.”

  “I thank you, Ernan. I am Lyall. This is Shann and our former Keltar is called Keris. The fine fellow driving our wagon is Alondo.” Alondo doffed his cap and grinned. “I appreciate you may have little to spare, but I would like to discuss securing the provisions we need to continue our journey. We are prepared to compensate you fully.”

  Ernan nodded thoughtfully. “We do not have an inn here in Pinnar, but I have a comfortable home. If you and your party would consent to stay with me, I will see what we can do to assist you. I would also enjoy a conversation with your Chandara.”

  Shann chuckled. “You’re the first person I know who’s ever said that.”

  The crowd began to disperse, murmuring to one another as they did so. The party followed Ernan as he led them in the direction of his house. Lyall hung back and buttonholed Keris, addressing her in low tones. Shann pricked up her ears to listen in. “What you did back there–well done.” Keris looked at him strangely. “But if you ever do anything like that again, you will no longer be a part of this group.”

  ~

  Ernan’s home was comfortable indeed. The hearth was not lit this deep into summer, but the atmosphere was warm and homely, with delightful smells wafting from the kitchen. Shann realised that this was the first time since the farmhouse near Lind that she had actually stayed in a house. The hut at the compound didn’t really count. Memories of the compound made her wonder how Roanol and the others were doing. I haven’t forgotten you.

  The main living space was set with an assortment of stools. Alondo sat opposite her, making adjustments to his curious instrument. He had offered to play for them later that evening. He looked up and smiled at her every so often. Boxx lay with its head on the wooden floor. Keris sat on her own three stools over. Her hands lay in her lap and she seemed unnaturally subdued after her earlier violent outburst. What is going on in your head?

  Lyall was engaged in discussions with Ernan. The negotiations seemed protracted, but Ernan’s wife and only daughter kept them supplied with cool drinks. The daughter kept stealing glances at Alondo; he seemed to have that effect on women. Maybe it was something to do with being a musician.

  At length, Lyall emerged with Ernan. He was smiling, which she interpreted as good news. “I think I have secured most of what we need. Replacing the door wasn’t cheap.” He meant it as a joke, but Keris’ face was as impassive as ever. It was almost as if… she were in mourning. But for what? For whom?

  Ernan flopped onto a stool across from Shann and Alondo and gave a genial smile. “Hungry?”

  “Yes, please,” Shann replied a little too eagerly, evoking a ripple of laughter from the others. Her eyes fell to the floor.

  “Good–that’s good,” Ernan spread his hands. “Evening meal will be ready soon. Our fare is simple, but good enough to satisfy our young friend here, I think.” He winked at Shann and she perked up. Then his mood seemed to shift. His wide mouth straightened, his blue eyes narrowed, and his forehead took on a slight frown. “Lyall tells me you are bound for Sakara and that you intend to travel through the Fire Pits?”

  “That is correct,” Keris answered from her place across the room.

  The older man leaned forward and put his hand to his mouth but said nothing.

  “Anything you can tell us about them might be helpful,” Lyall prompted.

  There was a pause. Then Ernan spoke, his eyes unfocussed as if he were speaking to himself rather than to a room full of people. “Nobody travels through the pits and with good reason. There are too many ways to die. The fumes can choke and the ground is unstable in places. There are pools of boiling mud and scalding water. And then there is the Serpent.”

  Alondo looked up. “You mean the Kharthrun Serpent? I thought that was a story told to frighten young children.”

  “Oh, the Serpent is real,” Ernan’s eyes focussed on the musician, who let his instrument slip to the floor. “Although it isn’t just a single creature, of course; there must be a number of them.”

  “Have you ever seen one?” Shann asked.

  “No. But Mevan, the man you spoke to before, has; as a young man, he ventured into the Pits with three others, one of whom was his brother. The Serpent attacked them. He was the only one to survive.”

  There was a shocked silence. Finally, Lyall spoke up. “Did he say anything about the beast?”

  Ernan shook his head. “Only that it stalks his nightmares to this day…I do not mean to interfere. We have a saying here in the Distrada: ‘A mylar determines its flight and a man his path.’ However, I would be less than a host if I did not acquaint you with the dangers that lie ahead of you.”

  A silence descended once again. It was Alondo who verbalised their thoughts. “Maybe we should reconsider taking the route through this place?”

  “Nonsense,” Keris countered. “If we take the road north, east and then south we will lose at least ten days. We have lost too much time already owing to our failure at the tower. The journey across Kharthrun will only take a few days. Then it will only be a short distance to the coast and the port of Sakara. There is nothing that lies within Kharthrun that we cannot deal with. Do not let yourself be swayed by these…fables.

  Shann shot a glance at Ernan, but he merely shrugged slightly. Once again it was Lyall who stepped in to smooth over any ruffled feathers. “I thank you for your counsel, Master Ernan. However, the urgency of our mission demands that we take the swifter route, even if it is
at some risk to ourselves.”

  Ernan exhaled, whether through resignation or disappointment, Shann could not tell. “Then I will do what I can to aid you. You will have whatever supplies we can muster and I will arrange for an escort to conduct you safely to the rim. I cannot ask them to descend into Kharthrun itself–I’m sure you understand.”

  Lyall gave a short bow. “Your offer is most generous, Ernan. We would like to get underway as soon as possible tomorrow.”

  A tinkling sound came from the direction of the kitchen. Ernan stood up. “Well, I believe evening meal is about ready, after which I will make the arrangements for your departure tomorrow. At least I have this evening to talk to your Chandara friend.

  Boxx raised its head at the mention of its name. “Chandara Friend,” it agreed. Shann wondered if she ought to warn Ernan that he was liable to end up with a splitting headache, but decided that it was probably best to allow him to make that particular voyage of discovery on his own.

  Ernan was leading the way towards the kitchen while conversing with Lyall. “So, what does your Chandara eat…?” Shann and Alondo got up and fell in behind them, followed by Keris and Boxx. However, she found that she was no longer listening to the conversation. Her physical hunger had been replaced by a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Fire Pits…the Kharthrun Serpent…the very stuff of nightmares.

  Chapter 21

  Down. The way to the Fire Pits lay open before them. A slim path, a tiny fault of broken rock, led the way down the immense canyon wall before disappearing beneath clouds of vapour, beckoning them towards the dangers that lay hidden below.

  The headman had been as good as his word. He and a group of half a dozen villagers rode with them to the rim of the immense depression. On the way, Ernan told them The Legend of Kharthrun. According to the tale, the Pits had been formed long ago, when the people of the Distrada had displeased The Three. The Suns had fashioned a fireball and hurled it from the heavens to serve as a sign of their wrath. The fireball gouged out a vast burning pit. Then it engulfed a forgar worm, feeding it until it grew into the Serpent. Shann thought the story outrageous and even a little blasphemous, but she listened politely and held her tongue.

  At the rim, they halted and looked out across the fear-inspiring vista. Beneath the steam clouds Shann glimpsed twisted features amid dark volcanic rocks. The immense bowl stretched as far as the eye could see, looking for all the world as if it had been scooped out by a gigantic hand. She began to wonder whether there might be some truth to the legend after all.

  Ernan could not hide his concern, as she and the others offered their thanks and expressed their goodbyes. Lyall made a formal gift of the wagon and the graylesh to Ernan, and they bowed gravely to one another before the older man conducted them personally to the point at the lip of the cliff face where the path began.

  Lyall produced a long length of rope. “Tie the rope around your waist like this.” He knotted the rope around his middle and handed the end to Shann. She tied it in the same way and passed it to Alondo. “We stay roped together till we reach the canyon floor, in case of any mishaps.”

  “What about Boxx?” Shann enquired.

  Lyall shook his head. “I think the rope would only hamper its movements. More importantly, it’s much lighter than any of us, so if we were to stumble or fall, we would just drag it down with us. No, I think the Chandara is better off as it is.” He addressed the little creature directly. “Boxx, be careful as we descend. Do you understand?”

  Boxx raised itself erect on its hind limbs as if coming to attention. “I Will Be With Keris,” it declared happily. Keris looked away, but said nothing.

  Shann hefted her pack and manoeuvred her arms between the shoulder straps. They had slimmed down their possessions to no more than they could comfortably carry. For Shann that meant just her flying cloak and her staff; besides food and water, she had nothing else. She watched as Alondo reached inside his jerkin and pulled out the emerald he wore around his neck. The jewel sparkled in the early afternoon light. He bowed his head silently, mouthing a few words–a prayer? – before tucking the stone back out of sight. Shann was suddenly struck by the fact that she had no memento, no keepsake, nothing of her former life and home. If she died here in these Fire Pits, there would be nothing on her body to indicate to anyone who found her who she was or where she was from. Had she been a good or a bad person? Had she loved anyone or been loved? Had her short life amounted to anything? She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Alondo had offered her a place in his home along with Hedda, but that was a long way off and there was a good chance she would never live to take him up on it. For now, all she had were the cloak and the staff. Yet perhaps those things said more about the person she was now than anything else. From that moment on a rain-soaked night in Corte, when she had grabbed the staff and ran forward to give it to the tall fair haired man with the piercing blue eyes, she had crossed a line. She had taken her life in a new direction. She had decided to become someone who could make a difference.

  Slowly and carefully, the party began their descent into the Fire Pits of Kharthrun. Single file, perched on the narrow rock ledge with their backs against the cliff wall, edging towards the plumes of rising steam mingled with smoke and sulphur, Shann felt a growing sense of peril. What was it Ernan had said? Too many ways to die.

  ~

  Shann could already feel the heat rising from below, creating an updraft of unsteady air currents. The palms of her hands were pressed against the rock face as she moved along a ledge not much wider than her feet. Don’t look down.

  Alondo seemed to be faring worse than she was. He was far from sure-footed, and Shann could see the apprehension in his eyes. He tried cracking jokes in an effort to raise his spirits. “Lyall?” His voice was like a thin thread.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “You know, out of all of the things we have done so far, I think this is my least favourite.”

  “I know,” Lyall soothed, “try to hang in there, my friend.”

  The flying cloaks were useless; a fall from this height would not be stopped by any deposits of natural lodestone, even assuming there were any directly beneath them. Looking out over the expanse, it occurred to Shann that there were no birds flying. The silence was broken only by laboured breathing and the sounds of boots scraping against rock.

  At times the ledge widened a little, allowing them to make faster progress. Keris was stone-faced, her dark eyes betraying no sign of anxiety. She moved over the thin strip of rock with the grace of a dagan. Boxx shuffled along with ease. He was forced to stop frequently as the Kelanni in front of him slowed his progress.

  They were a little more than halfway down. The ledge had widened once again, and Shann was beginning to think that the nightmare would soon be over, when Lyall stopped in his tracks and raised a hand. Shann halted and so did the others. She noticed that Alondo was breathing heavily.

  “What’s the matter?” she called ahead.

  “Look.” Lyall moved aside to allow her to glimpse the way ahead. She squeezed against him, craning her neck. The narrow shelf continued for a short way before coming to an abrupt end, a broken edge falling off into nothingness–a brutal denial of passage. Her heart sank at the thought of making the journey all the way back up the cliff side. The musician had slumped down and was seated with his back to the rock, hugging his knees. His eyes were shut and he was breathing through his teeth. She was not at all sure he would make it.

  Keris edged past Alondo and approached Shann and Lyall. She had untied herself from the rope and removed her pack.

  “Why have we stopped?” she demanded.

  Lyall met her eyes gravely. “The path is gone.”

  ~

  “Let me see.” Keris sidled past the other two and crept gingerly to where the path ended abruptly.

  Lyall leaned forward. “Be careful; it may not be safe.”

  Keris did not answer or look back. She got down on her knees,
then lay flat on her stomach and peered into the abyss below. Her head moved up as her eyes scoured the rock face. There. Ever since that night in the Gilah Hills when she had faced Mordal for the last time it had seemed as if a maelstrom were churning within her, a storm of grief and loss over which she had no control. When she had found herself kicking down a door in the village of Pinnar, it felt as if she were another person, yelling at herself from afar, but unable to make herself stop.

  The feelings of grief and loss were still there, but now, for the first time in many days and nights, Keris felt a centre, a point of calm. She stood in the eye of the storm, aware of her feelings, but detached from them somehow. Here was a problem, an obstacle, but one that could be overcome by logic and tactical analysis. She was on familiar ground once more. She was in control.

  She got back up and retreated to where Lyall and Alondo were waiting, indicating behind her with a flick of her head. “The path continues ahead of and below us. It begins again at a fault line, where the canyon wall is split.”

  Lyall moved to the end of the path and checked where she was indicating. He turned back, shaking his head. “Too far. We could never jump that gap.”

  Keris looked straight at him. Her eyes flashed. “I can do it.”

  Shann and Lyall looked at her with disbelief. “If you’re thinking of using the flying cloak, it would take a leap of great precision to make it to that far ledge without falling off,” Lyall argued. “What’s more, there would have to be a good lodestone deposit on this side and you haven’t even taken the cloak out to scan for any yet.”

  “I won’t be needing any.” Keris moved back along the narrow shelf. She passed Alondo and went to the place where she had set down her pack. Carefully she extracted her flying cloak and fitted it around her shoulders, fixing the clasps and shaking her head so that her dark tresses settled across her shoulders, framing her sharp delicate features. She tied the pack to her belt and made her way back to where Shann and Lyall were waiting expectantly. She addressed Shann. “Give me your cloak, please.” Shann looked to Lyall, who nodded at the girl. Obediently, Shann took off her pack and gave her own cloak to Keris. “Thank you.” Keris headed for the broken end of the path once more and knelt down just short of the edge. She laid Shann’s cloak out on the rock surface and began making adjustments to the control mechanism.