by Katie Macey
A white-faced Iilen knelt beside him. "You need help for that, Jomen."
Niamh didn't trust her voice to sound so calm, so she was grateful to Iilen. But the green tinge of his own face gave away that he felt as sick as she did. That guard had done something horrible to Jomen. And it was a wound none of them understood.
"Oplijah shouldn't be far from here,” said Niamh, worried that if she spoke any louder her throat would betray her and the remaining rations in her gut would spill out in front of everyone.
“Iilen, you’re alright!” Caeednce rushed out from the cluster of trees and hugged his arm tight. “And Niamh, oh it’s wonderful to be back together!”
Aarin knelt by Jomen.
“What kind of wound is this?”
“They used the old arts,” said Niamh. “But in a way I’ve never seen.”
“But hey,” said Iilen, still crouched beside Jomen, “So did Niamh – we flew!”
“It was awful,” said Jomen, wincing with the effort. Aarin pretended to laugh at Jomen’s sarcastic comment. But worry weakened his attempt.
“We’re two days walk from Oplijah - at least!" said Veayre, lifting the map.
Niamh's blood boiled. How could she be so calm, so emotionless, about this? All eyes swung to Veayre, most with unveiled anger.
"It's not my fault everything happened while I was taking a quick walk,” said Veayre, standing up straight. “Don't pin this on me because you're all 'worried' and 'scared."
Niamh couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Couldn't Veayre see how serious this was? Jomen was injured, and none of them knew how to help him.
Veayre waved a hand, as though nothing much had happened and refolded the map, tucking it into one of the packs.
Aarin stood to his full height and took in a deep breath. Touching his knuckles to his lips, he paused, staring at Veayre, who openly stared back. Trying another tactic, Niamh asked,
"Is there anyone closer, someone who can help us?"
"How should I know?” said Veayre. “I am 'learning' remember."
"Not you!"
Niamh was about ready to have it out with Veayre. Niamh pointed a finger at her and took a breath.
"Shh!"
Caeednce interrupted her with a finger raised to her lips.
"I'm not going to be quiet now Caeednce,” said Niamh. “If you're uncomfortable with arguments, then leave."
"No! Shut it! Now!"
Caeednce leapt at her, jamming a hand over Niamh's mouth. The group of five scrambled closer and in seconds they were bunched together, a quaking mess of travellers. Niamh looked this way and that, scrambling to understand. What had Caeednce seen?
A twig snapped.
Niamh craned her neck. A puff of steam? Then as she turned her head slowly around, she realised her mistake. It became instantly obvious why the riders of Asturg had been so fearless. Of course they didn’t need scouts or walls. Jomen whimpered, leaning hard on one leg, supported by Aarin. Niamh felt a sense of impending doom but also wonder. Panic gave way to curiosity. This was something she had never thought she'd ever see for herself.
They were surrounded. Six Asturgian Tigers blocked every escape. The biggest of them, and the most beautiful and impressive, yawned her massive jaw wide, unleashing a roar that shook Niamh to the core.
✽✽✽
Caeednce, a boat builder by trade, stepped away from their huddled mass, reaching one hand out.
"Everyone. Stay. Calm."
Niamh froze, her throat constricted with fear. What was Caeednce doing? Iilen grabbed Niamh’s outstretched arm, holding her back. She searched his face, but for some reason he trusted Caeednce. How did Caeednce possess the courage to approach such fearsome cats?
Each tiger circled, pacing, and watching. Their leader faced Caeednce. They stood on all fours, orange and black fur rippling over giant bodies, their faces, majestic and fearsome. Niamh could barely breathe. Caeednce took another timid step toward the tigress. She growled, and the air shimmered vibrations through each of them.
As if time stood still, the sun pausing its climb into the sky, and Jomen's pain relenting in its spread, they watched and waited, hanging in the balance of what the next moment held.
Niamh had never felt such fear, not when she was shipwrecked, not when the village burned, and not even when Jomen had tripped over the cavern's edge, or they’d flown from the tower. Of all creatures -tigers. Niamh snuck a peek at the cat almost within arm’s reach. She'd never seen one up close. Nothing in any illustrated picture book had prepared her for the sheer size of them. Niamh discovered first hand that they were beautiful and powerful. Even as she stared at the tiger’s massive claws, what really stung, was that she had uncovered something else. She'd uncovered a truth that called into question everything she believed to be true. Why would her Aunt put her on the last ship of the season? She'd sent Niamh knowing full well that was the most treacherous passage one could take. That Veayre was on the ship too had made her feel better, but now, she wondered at that even more. What kind of rich man, puts their daughter on a risky sailing journey? What could have been worth that risk?
She rubbed at the bangle on her arm, as it pinched her. She frowned at it, momentarily distracted. Their flight out of the fortress hadn’t been gentle. The perfect circle of silver had been pressed into a pointed tear shape. Silver-plate began cracking off in places. Clear glass revealed underneath showed it for the cheap trinket it was. The tigers growled. Their fur stood on end. A single tear dribbled down her cheek.
Glancing down, Niamh saw Jomen looking up at her, with tears in his eyes. One hand reached up toward hers. Something passed between them, something fragile and new, and without worrying if anyone noticed, she unfurled her fist and let her fingers lace with his.
Iilen cleared his throat. Niamh couldn't believe it, but she was smiling to herself. And a glance down, revealed that Jomen, for all his injuries, had a stupid grin on his face too.
"Uh, we're surrounded by tigers," said Veayre, her deriding whisper only just masking her fear.
"And you're helping how?" said Aarin.
"Give Caeednce a sec guys,” said Iilen. “Look, she's doing something."
Niamh blushed red at Veayre's jibe, but she wasn't letting go of Jomen's hand for anything. They'd been friends since he handed back her precious bracelet, back in the forest of Traot Crurg. And now? Well, Niamh knew that they weren't just that. It didn't matter they were on a brush-covered hillside, surrounded by a pack of angry tigers, far from their homes, and far from help. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
Caeednce's hand rested on soft fur just above the tiger's nose. Carefully avoiding the whiskers, she whispered something softly to the great beast.
Niamh watched on, holding her breath. Each tiger seemed to hesitate, looking for that tiger’s reaction. Jomen squeezed her hand tighter.
Then Caeednce buckled over in a bubbling giggle! Crouching she leant on her knees still chuckling and patted the dry and spindly grass beside her. Niamh's eyes widened and she nearly dropped Jomen's hand. But right before their eyes, the tigress stepped forward and nuzzled at Caeednce's shoulder before crouching and sitting beside her. They watched, completely gobsmacked. One by one, each tiger lay down and rested on their paws in submission.
Shutting her mouth, Niamh watched as Caeednce patted the tiger’s vast back and scratched just behind her ears. Caeednce tamed the tigress like she was any alley cat in the village. And without the promise of food too!
Jomen cried out in pain. And Caeednce rushed to calm the tiger. Jomen crumpled to the ground again. Another tiger growled, lifting an angry head. But one look from the tigress stopped him short. Iilen let out a whistle.
“You're the best!” said Iilen, “We owe you, Caeednce.”
Caeednce blushed but kept her eyes on the largest cat.
"Someday soon,” she said, “I’ll explain. But it's not for everyone’s ears." She said the second phrase to the tiger, but they glanced at eac
h other. What could she mean? Not elaborating, Caeednce stood and threw her hands onto her hips, pleased with herself.
"So, two days walk…or half a day's ride?"
"You're not suggesting..." said Iilen, staggering backward. Caeednce looked at Jomen. Half-sitting, he grimaced, with his injured leg straight out. Niamh squeezed his hand and gently let it go. She deliberately avoided looking at his leg. His arms were shaking, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
"We don't have two days,” said Niamh, “do we."
It was a question, but nobody needed to answer it. Niamh shivered looking at the tigers, but could Jomen ride one in his condition? Could any of them manage it at all?
"I'll help you,” said Caeednce. “It's a little crazy, but our options are limited.”
“We've got to get away,” said Aarin looking back towards the fortress, “and fast."
"Just to the border,” said Caeednce, “from there, we'll be out of harm’s way, except for-" she stopped, and looked down at Jomen. The wound on his leg worsened, stretching down to his knee.
Niamh eyed off the closest tiger.
"Will this really work? Aren’t they loyal to Asturg?"
"They're used to being ridden,” said Caeednce. “And I've seen wild creatures like this tamed before, in emergencies. And they’re tigers. Not guards." She paused, and looked at Jomen, “I’m worried about how long you can last without help."
The others nodded in agreement. Hesitating, Niamh looked to Caeednce for guidance, but she was warily approaching the leader of the pack.
Caeednce hummed a quiet tune. So Niamh did the same.
"No,” said Caeednce. “The tune of Oplijah, the tune of the border."
"But I don't know any tunes. Not for tigers."
"So you can fly, but you can't sing?" said Veayre.
"Can you?" Niamh threw back, not breaking eye contact with the animal she faced. Instead of humming, she spoke to the creature. She whispered to it about needing to escape from this place, and that she hadn't done anything to warrant being chased by Asturgian guards, and about Jomen and how he was injured. The animal crept forward and nuzzled her hand with its giant wet nose. Niamh giggled. Was giggling a sign you'd bonded with one of them? Niamh had no idea, but she led the animal to Jomen and somehow communicated for it to lay beside him. It seemed like more of a miracle than flying.
The tigers bound across grassy plains, leaving the desert sands behind them. Caeednce led the charge. Niamh hugged Jomen, who spasmed in pain with each leap, though the ride was incredibly smooth for the speed they travelled. When they stopped to drink at a stream, Jomen vomited. The others hung back while Niamh cleaned him up. By the time they reached the border, her arms were spent, holding a weakened Jomen securely on the tiger's back being trickier and more effort than she'd thought. On the crest of a hill covered in grass gone to seed, hours later, the tigers finally stopped. Niamh stumbled off the tiger's back, and collapsed to the ground next to a sleepy Jomen.
Caeednce whispered something to the tallest tiger, and then they turned to return to their desert home.
"I hope they're treated well,” said Aarin.
Caeednce touched one hand to her chest and turned to face Jomen.
"Niamh, you and Aarin should go ahead. Get help."
"I want to stay with Jomen, send someone else,” said Niamh. Her arms shook and she felt pinned to the hilltop.
"None of us have contacts at Oplijah, besides you,” said Caeednce. “They expect your arrival, remember? Your test?"
Niamh blinked. Caeednce was right. They expected her. Aunty had written ahead.
Aarin watched her awkwardly. Could he see what had changed between her and Jomen? The base of Jomen’s neck pulled in with each breath, and a vein over his collarbone fluttered. Niamh wrenched herself up. She tentatively touched his forehead.
"I'll stay with him,” said Iilen touching her hand. He knew. She gulped and nodded. Standing up, Niamh spoke, not looking at Aarin, or anyone else.
“You're right Caeednce. It should be me that goes ahead. I'll get help." She left Aarin in the dust as she ran for the stained glass masterpiece.
Running felt like a release, after clinging to the back of that tiger all morning. They ran quickly, in spite of her fatigue, and covered a lot of ground in a short time. Still, her mind wandered...to their fingertips reaching for each other in that dark throne room, his arms around her waist as they fell out the window, his grin when they'd finally held hands properly for the first time. The glasshouse loomed large on the horizon. She had known it was situated on oceanside cliffs, but she hadn't been prepared for how enormous it was, or how spectacular it looked in the blazing sunshine. Rainbows and reflections sparkled off the grassy surrounds, and beyond it, tall trees with few leaves lined the cliff's edge.
She slowed her pace, and Aarin caught up. The pounding of her feet sounded so loud in her head, and she rubbed her temple as she ran.
"Does anyone see us coming?" she called to Aarin. He didn't seem tired at all.
"No,” he called back pointing with his right arm. “But there's an entry on that side of the building."
Niamh looked where he pointed and saw the doorway he meant. It was the grand opening, the ceremonial doors.
"No! There’s another way. The priestesses use another entrance!"
Veering south, their course took them away from the cliff's edge. Niamh couldn’t take her eyes off Oplijah itself. Mosaic blues, reached up into the sky, tiny shards of colour framed with lead-light. It shone in a completely different way, compared to the crystal caves of Traot Crurg. This was more like a coloured lantern than a solid stone. But she knew it wasn't lit from within, not in the middle of the day. The spectacle on display was made possible by the sun's rays. She'd heard the stories and Aunty had tried to prepare her for her arrival here. What to say, who to ask for, what not to say...Niamh frowned, even as she ran. Some of the 'what not to say's’ hadn't made much sense, but not knowing much outside of her own village, she hadn't questioned it. But now, even with only a few short weeks abroad, she felt unsettled, wondering about her aunt's intentions…Niamh’s head ached.
Blue glass cast tiny flickers of blue light on the grass. Aarin's face shone with wonder and flicks of blue, as he lurched to a complete stop. Niamh was only a few steps behind, and warm faced and slightly winded, she pulled up behind him.
A white door, with one round doorknob of cut crystal, clear like glass, but smooth to touch turned under her hand - but it stopped after only a quarter turn.
"It's locked!" said Niamh.
Pulling on the handle and twisting it one way, then the other, she gave up, resorting to banging on the door with her open hand.
"Hey! We need your help! Please!"
"Hey!"
Aarin joined in, and banged the door hard twice, before moving along the wall. For a building made out of glass, it was impossible to see inside. Niamh had a moment of panic, wondering if everything had changed while she'd been away. What if her doubts were true? What if absolutely everything she'd known was gone? She staggered backward. Something snagged on her foot and she almost tripped.
"Of course!" said Aarin as he scooped it up. He lifted a long golden chain from the springy grass and yanked on it with all his might.
The air vibrated around them with a resounding toll. Niamh clapped her hands over her ears.
"You rang the bell?" said Niamh, horrified.
What had he done? He dumped the chain in the long grass where it had laid hidden before.
"We need help, Niamh,” said Aarin. “Jomen's life depends on it."
“But the bell?”
She didn't have time to wonder at his boldness, because the door opened, revealing three girls. They were dressed like apprentices, with red robes and gold ribbon woven through braided hair, a sign they were marked for the priesthood. Niamh touched her hair, pink and fluffy like whisked sugar. Not the first impression she wanted to make here at all. But she couldn’t be embarrassed about
her hair now.
"Jomen,” she said, “my, our friend, he's injured, we need help!"
Niamh rushed at the girls, grabbing their hands. The girls shrank back, but one, slightly taller, stepped forward.
"You shouldn't have rung the bell! Not for anything!" Her voice was hard and monotone.
"Our friend,” said Niamh, “he was attacked, they used the old arts in a new way..."
"He needs healing,” said Aarin. “Will you help us?" He managed to stay calm and asked them for help like he was asking someone any ordinary favour. Niamh sniffed, but her eyes filled with tears. Wiping them away, she stepped beside Aarin.
"My name is Niamh, I'm a legacy. And I need to take the test. But first, please, will you help us? Jomen could die..."
Aarin inhaled sharply, but besides clenching his jaw, Niamh saw no other sign he was as worried as she was.
The three girls looked at each other, giving nothing away. The moment stretched out. What were they thinking? Niamh wanted to speak again and hurry them up, but Aarin glanced at her, so she hesitated. In the end, the smallest one spoke.
"Get my sack," she said, speaking to the tallest one. Her hair was as green as her eyes were soft and kind. The sack was handed over, and the small apprentice priestess looked directly into Niamh's face, though she was a little shorter than her.
"Take me to your friend."
CHAPTER 13
"I know exactly what this is," said the apprentice priestess, opening her bag.
"Oh good!" said Niamh, pressing her hand to her heart. Caeednce squeezed Niamh’s shoulder.
"No. Not good," the girl rebuked, her voice severe. Niamh leant her face close to Jomen's but his closed eyes twitched and his skin dripped with sweat. Taking one of Jomen's hands into her own, she asked what she had previously been afraid to.
"Will he be okay?"
