by Katy Winter
CHAPTER NINE
By the time the small band reached the sea, they were fit though quite exhausted. Three days before their water skins had run dry, though they'd been able to drink from containers of salt water, only in small sips. All desired a long cool drink of something other than that. Quon was especially tired. It showed in stooped and often hunched shoulders. Saracen was unconcerned. His main complaint was of sunburn, because none of his people were used to exposure. He just accepted everything as it came.
Javen was tough. Not for nothing had his past life taught him harsh lessons. He was a survivor. Knellen too was uncomplaining, sweat on his forehead his only sign of fatigue. He sat his horse like a statue. He spoke to no one about his sight. He couldn't see the change in his eyes but knew, after the encounter, that something had happened to him. He had new abilities as well. He could see through objects dense to others, and had extraordinary distance vision and night sight, the latter as clear as day sight. These were things he had to come to terms with. Typically, he did it on his own.
His Varen sense of identifying living beings or creatures by their body heat was intensified tenfold. He knew a threat long before it manifested himself and he had a new sense that Quon knew would come – precognition; his premonitions would be acute and accurate and they’d trouble him. Quon hoped physical manifestations of change wouldn’t come although Knellen was no longer solely of Shalah. He was a most untypical Varen. And he rightly guessed that Quon was well aware of these enhanced abilities.
The Varen simply handed the qual shard to Quon one morning, with the suggestion he do what he wished with it.
“And you, Knellen? What about Jamir when you meet up with him again?”
“Will I?” countered Knellen, his eyes meeting Quon's.
“Oh I think so, my friend,” replied Quon, calmly scrutinising the taller man's face.
“A reckoning, maybe,” agreed Knellen, his eyes smiling down at the shorter man, but his voice with a chill to it.
“We all have that with the Cynas and those like him.”
Quon took the shard and studied it carefully. He guessed Knellen's erratic use of it, then the gap of the last few weeks, must have made Jamir wonder what had happened. He must have expected the writhling to be assuming control of its host by this time, so he decided the Cynas should have suspicions allayed as soon as possible. Quon went quietly away and let the shard do its work. He saw Jamir's face, angry, stare back at him. Again Quon managed a fair imitation of the Varen's voice.
“Where have you been, you fool?” growled Jamir in frustration.
“Travelling with the boy and man, Cynas, as instructed.”
“Have you learned anything?”
“No, Cynas.”
“The boy is a simple emtori?”
“As far as I can tell, yes, Cynas. It is all he appears to be.”
“And the old man?”
“He is as he was the day I accompanied them into exile, Cynas.”
“Why has your use of the shard been irregular? You know the penalty for disobedience.”
“Yes,” answered Quon, a slight edge to his voice. It made a sharp expression come to Jamir's face.
“Why can't I see you, Varen?”
“It's very dark here, Cynas, because I try to send only at night when the others are asleep - that way I avoid arousing suspicion.”
“You have been gone too long for no purpose. It is time you returned so what you have learned may be evaluated and your due, whatever it may turn out to be, given you. You appear to have done your duty but there are aspects of your behaviour that cause me to doubt you, Varen. I hope for your sake it's not so. You'll leave the boy and man immediately.” Jamir's face sharpened into focus again. His expression was implacably cruel. “I'll give instructions to the Varen Command that you are to be returned, personally, to me. From this hour, Varen, you are sought. You know what that means.”
A bleak note entered Quon's voice that he hoped wouldn't be lost on Jamir.
“I understand, my Cynas.”
“I am sure you do.”
Quon snapped the connection. Clearly, Knellen was now a hunted man and Quon knew, as well as anyone, that Varen always found their quarry in the end. It was only a matter of time. It seemed Knellen was no safer than Javen or the boy, though only Quon knew the real change that had been wrought in the Varen, a change that made him formidable.
And Jepaul, as thin as a rake and as tall as a long cast shadow, travelled in relative silence as they journeyed. Never a loquacious child other than with Quon, he was now quiet most of the day. Though he still looked gaunt and frail, he was surprisingly resilient. He was the first to sight water.
They walked the horses to the edge of the water, then stopped, hastily dismounted, and, as one, led the horses forward. The animals delicately picked their way across the sand, over lush, scattered broad-leaved foliage and bleached driftwood, to edge carefully over the rocky entrance to the water. Since there was no more sand until about fifteen feet out, the horses had to be gently coaxed lest they stumble and lose their balance. There was a current too, a deep one, and no one wanted to lose a valuable animal.
Beyond this small inland lake was more land, then an isthmus, beyond which roared the ocean. It was visible from where the group stood, small eddies playing and spilling about their feet and horses' hooves. There were other small islands too, broad sweeping lagoons beyond them again that glittered invitingly in the sun.
The group could distinctly hear the boom of the ocean as it crashed over reefs and could see breakers toss spume as they too smashed against the reef and were hurled back. And nearby they were conscious of a gentler noise caused by water lapping in ripples about them. It created a slapping noise.
“There's a rip out there beyond the reef and this lake has hidden depths too,” observed Javen dispassionately. He squinted across at Jepaul. “Don't you go out there, lad, not without someone strong with you. The shallows here should be safe enough.”
“I won't,” promised Jepaul.
He was entranced. He'd never seen water in such abundance and certainly hadn’t sighted an ocean before. His eyes absently scanned beyond the small lake to the massive breakers thrashing on the nearest reef, their spray sent up feet in the air.
“Have you been in the sea before?” asked Javen. He saw Jepaul's shake of the head. “Then remember this, child. Yes, it's beautiful, like now, but it's also treacherous and can kill very easily. And don't forget how weather changes up here in the north either. You're very hot now, aren't you?”
“Yes,” agreed Jepaul. He began to feel uncomfortable and ripped off his top.
Javen frowned across at him.
“Not wise, little lad. Cover up or you'll get badly burned. You need something for your head too.” Then he looked ruefully down at the slapping about his feet and added rather lamely, “Still, we're here, aren't we, and we need a swim and a wash in fresh water.”
He got a roguish grin from Jepaul and both started to strip. Knellen needed no second invitation. Saracen and Quon took the reins of the horses and backed away with the discarded clothes as the trio gingerly stepped across stones, then struck sand and threw themselves into the water as one.
Javen flung himself at Jepaul, caught him, swung him in the air, then dumped him. He laughed at the spluttering indignation when Jepaul surfaced, water streaming from sodden ringlets all over his face.
“You'll have to learn to swim,” advised Javen, grinning hugely. He struck out strongly, the Varen beside him.
Seeing Jepaul was in the company of strong swimmers, Quon left them to it. He stared over to the nearest bay, thinking how picturesque it was with its stony shores covered in weed and driftwood that gave way to fringes of sandy beach set with occasional boulders. As far as he could see there were little bays dotted in turquoise water, with the sharp current coursing through the middle. It was very pretty.
He guessed they'd find plenty of fish which would provide a welcome re
lief from the dried meat they'd been forced to eat for the last few weeks. He looked at the few local boats, all fishing ones he guessed. They rocked gently. They were unmanned with furled sails and moved easily in the swell of a pleasant, lively breeze. There was no immediate sign of life in the vicinity.
Satisfied with the quiet and the beauty, Quon handed the reins he still absently held to the waiting Saracen and went back to the shore to watch Jepaul initiated into the mysteries of swimming. He sat heavily on a rock. His gaze was on the cavorting threesome until his casual glance became incredulously riveted to a floating stick just beyond his reach. He leaned forward, perilously, and stooped to grasp at the stick as it came tantalisingly close. He nearly crashed into the water and cursed when the stick went merrily past.
“Admiring my domain, old friend, despite your reluctance to enter it?” asked an amused voice.
Quon uttered a choice, startled oath and turned his head to stare up into laughing blue eyes.
“Such a fright you gave me!”
The man who surveyed him gave a rich chuckle.
“You wouldn't expect me off the Island, now would you?”
“No,” agreed Quon, now blandly regarding the stranger. He added shrewdly, “You gave no intimation that you would leave, none of you.”
“No,” concurred the tall man, his glance at Quon speculative. “But it occurred to us that you may need help, Quon.” He added ruminatively, “Not that, as I recall, you've ever asked directly, or otherwise, for assistance since the last war.” He paused again, but getting no immediate response he added, “Quon, your call and our brief synthesis not only intrigued us but also brought uncomfortable echoes of the past, enough to alarm us certainly. That you even called unsettled us.”
“I'm unsettled,” replied Quon.
“We're very tired, Quon, you know that,” reproached the stranger.
“So am I,” responded Quon curtly. “We're all now very, very old, and for myself I feel I've done what we were set to do and it's time younger ones uplifted the yoke, but it doesn't seem, as far as I can see, that that's possible - not yet anyway.” He gnawed on his beard meditatively. “Needs must.”
“So you say,” murmured the stranger thoughtfully. He shook his head. “Like you I thought our time came to a gentle end, old friend, but it seems it's not so.”
“Come walk with me,” invited Quon. He got stiffly to his feet, offered an arm, then stopped, his eyes once again caught by the same stick that passed him again. “What the demons?” he uttered.
He watched the stranger squint suddenly, then bend his tall form almost double as he plunged a hand down into the water. When he raised his hand Quon saw, not a long stick, but a staff, and one overlaid with runes tarnished and covered with weeds and dirt. The man straightened and held it gingerly as if it hurt him.
“Islasahn's?” Quon gasped.
“Islasahn's,” agreed the stranger, carefully laying the staff on the sand. He felt his hand and rubbed it. “She's still within it,” he added softly, “and makes it clear the staff doesn't belong to me. I'll not touch it again. That was rather painful.”
Quon eyed the man beside him, rubbing his hand where a deep mark crossed his palm, and he stared again at the staff lying beside him. It looked so insignificant and gnarled over syns too innumerable to count. Quon wondered how long the staff had lain untouched. And did it just randomly surface now? Quon felt queasy when he thought how just anyone may have found it. Some way would have been found to carry it, surely?
Then he gave himself a little shake. Islasahn had been a creature of enormous power - her magic alone touched the staff. Even though she was no longer a presence on Shalah only another like her would ever be able to lift it aloft and use it. It would only be held by a newly-born fifth elemental in her mould and one who would be able to stand with the Four, the Elements complete and the circle unbroken. Did such another time come to Shalah? Were they to see such ancient times revisited? Quon's sigh was rent by a deeper shudder. He felt the spirit of Salaphon stir in his veins and knew, at the same instant, that the stranger beside him experienced exactly the same sensation.
He looked across at the man. To look at he was quite unlike Quon. He was much taller and thinner and his long white hair was deeply tinged with varying hues of blue, the tints catching and holding the sunlight with a metallic sheen. His eyes were sheer aquamarine, bright, laughing and intensely inquisitive.
He wore long robes that fell to sandalled feet. He also wore a blue jewelled belt that matched the extraordinarily wide collar about his throat, the edge of which reached across the broad shoulders. It looked extremely heavy. The man was unusual in appearance. He seemed entirely at ease, as if he was part of the immediate environment, or even, impossibly, as if he owned it. His air was quite lordly.
Dom Water turned his attention thoughtfully to where there was still much splashing and laughter, and Jepaul, his arms waving, was again ruthlessly plunged under by an amused Knellen. The Dom eyed the long flailing limbs, gave a wry smile, and glanced back at Quon.
“To look at, even from here, it seems he's most like his progenitor,” he observed.
“Aye, he is,” agreed Quon absently, his attention on the staff. Then he straightened and eyed the Dom curiously. “Why didn't you contact me earlier? You've seen him at closer quarters, yes?”
“I wanted to observe that boy without others being aware of my presence,” said the Dom dispassionately. “You were too preoccupied to pick up my presence so it seemed an opportunity not to be missed.”
“And?”
“You told us most accurately.”
“Of course,” snapped Quon. “What is there to be gained by deception or prevarication?”
“Nothing, Earth,” concurred the other in a deceptively meek voice. He got a sharp look and grinned appreciatively. Reluctantly Quon smiled too.
“Let's walk,” he offered, waiting for the taller man to fall in beside him. He sighed. “I've been from the Island and the formation too long, Sapphire. I begin to think like those on Shalah. It shows, doesn't it?”
“Your wanderings always concerned us, Earth.” Sapphire saw a protest forming and hurried on. “We know you had to go, that it is part of what you are, Earth, but still it worried us that you were so far removed and for such long times, your returns infrequent. Then they stopped altogether.
It seems that you were the only one awake to the reality of Shalah. We allowed ourselves to be foolishly lulled into a belief that all was well and didn't respond to the news you sent us as we should. It seemed, old friend, after what had passed, that your fears couldn't be real. Our stupidity made us ignore the import of your comments that should have alerted us even then.”
“I'm not entirely sure I wanted to accept credit for ideas that have only very recently crystallised into realisation, Sapphire,” admitted Quon tiredly.
“Let's hope amends don't come too late then. At least we're in formation again.”
“A bit ragged though,” murmured Quon, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Sapphire's ready smile twisted a little wryly at that comment.
“True, but we'll be as good as ever we were. You'll see. Once we work together again we may be better. Being found wanting can act as a spur to make sure we are.” Sapphire sighed. “Except for Islasahn’s absence.”
“Undoubtedly,” agreed Quon, his eyes back on Jepaul. “How long do you think it'll take that boy to swim?”
Sapphire followed Quon's look.
“With others teaching him - an age, Quon.”
Quon laughed outright.
“And with you, Sapphire?”
“Oh, with me, old friend, he'll not just swim, he'll be water!” Sapphire gave Quon a sideways glance. “The Island then?”
Quon nodded.
“He has to go there, Sapphire.”
“Then, if there's no choice about that, he'll indeed have to be water itself, Quon. Nothing else will do. To swim there is not enough.”
“No,” muttered Quon with a worried frown. He grimaced. “He needs you, now; all of you, in fact.”
There was a silence broken by Sapphire.
“Do you remember, Earth, when you and I appeared together, unexpectedly, on the shore, ready to try our skills at reaching the Island? Each challenge is novel, never one the same for each aspirant.” Sapphire's tone was reminiscent.
“Oh, aye, Water, I'm unlikely to forget. I struggled to the Island, half-drowned, buoyed only by your support and encouragement. Without it I'd have gone under, I'm sure of it.” Quon chuckled. “And you had a dreadful time clawing your way through earth, while your first days at the Island, confined and removed from the water, were purgatory, sea creature that you are.”
“We all needed each other.” Sapphire turned to stare out to Jepaul. “It seems such a time comes again, but who is there for that child?”
“He has those he's drawn to himself,” said Quon, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Whether they'll be there for him or are mere travelling companions I can't tell, nor do any have apparent skills that may aid him, but that is idle speculation at this stage. He's nowhere near being able to take a challenge, not yet.”
“I'm interested to meet this boy of yours, Quon.”
“I know you are. But now, Sapphire, this is your domain. Your judgment will decide how we proceed.”
“Such a long struggle for you, Quon,” commented Sapphire, “and for the boy and his companions. Their water skills matter little - Jepaul's are critical. As long as he is, that body should shoot through the water and what he as yet lacks in strength he has in suppleness. Does it matter if I become known to the boy? Few others will see me.”
“No,” replied Quon with conviction. “However,” he went on, “the boy and others see me only as an old man, one who is different indeed but not markedly so; that being the case you too should try to raise as little comment as possible.”
Sapphire gave a whimsical smile and shrugged. In seconds he was merely a very tall northerner with strange turquoise eyes who was dressed in Shalah attire.
“Will I do?” he asked impishly.
“Ever vain, old man,” grinned Quon, because the man in front of him wasn't much wrinkled and certainly had no stoop. He watched Sapphire stroke his long tresses and gave a deep chortle.
“And the slaver?”
“I trust him.”
“The Varen? Not known for trust as a species, are they?”
“Likewise, Sapphire. Though he has changed with the writhling removed.”
“So I've noticed.” Sapphire's tone was chilly. “And the Groundling? He's an unexpected addition to your little band, Quon.”
“Saracen?” Quon laughed again. “The Groundlings have little respect for those who live on the surface of Shalah these days, old friend. Of them all, I trust Groundlings. They saved Jepaul and me once.”
“For what purpose?” demanded Sapphire suspiciously.
Quon looked troubled.
“Does there have to be one?”
“I think so, Quon.”
“One Ancient felt the vibrations when I called the formation. He knew it assembled the Maquats.”
Sapphire's face showed astonishment.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“And he was once upon the Island?”
“There's no doubt of that.”
“Tell me all, Quon, now. I need to know.”
The two sat companionably on rocks conveniently placed side by side, then Quon spoke, quickly but quietly, and Sapphire, his face expressionless, listened. When Quon stopped there was a profound silence before Sapphire spoke soberly.
“The Groundlings know how things stand on Shalah then?”
“They do.” Quon scratched his head. “Much that we now fear has come to pass has done so in their immediate vicinity, so maybe that gives them a perspective of a unique kind. Their knowledge and awareness are humbling. They may seem quaint, Sapphire, but they aren't.” He eyed his companion, his expression hard to read. “It brought home to me how distant we've allowed ourselves to become, especially me when the Grohols are of earth.” He hoisted himself to his feet. “Come, Sapphire, and meet the boy you've shadowed.”
The two men arrived back at the edge of the water as Jepaul staggered out of it, flailed again, lost his balance and fell heavily on the rocks and stones. Wincing, a bit grazed, he got to his feet to gingerly pick his way over strewn debris and greenery. He came to a gasping halt on the sand. His thin chest heaved with exertion and his long curls, sodden now, dangled in lank ringlets. Quon watched him.
“Get your breath, boy,” he advised kindly. He turned his attention to Knellen and Javen who waded ashore. “How does the boy swim?” Quon called to them.
“He has much to learn if he doesn't wish to drown,” said Knellen, wringing out the ends of the shirt he'd kept on. “In his case ignorance isn't to be wished for.”
“That's what I thought,” remarked Quon, exchanging a mirthful glance with Sapphire. “Here's a native of these parts. Come and meet him. He seems willing to stay with us a for a while and guide us through this area's hazards. He's happy to trek the islands with us.” He turned to Sapphire. “What do we call you?” he asked blandly. Sapphire gave him a droll, limpid look.
“I answer to Marin,” he responded, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth the only sign of his amusement.
Javen and Knellen appropriately greeted him, but both also, to Sapphire's entertainment, were carefully sizing him up at the same time, each in his own way. Sapphire knew neither man would trust easily. He approved of that. He was conscious of thorough scrutiny but took it with a good grace, because today it was not a good idea to take anything for granted, especially the motives of strangers. The boy had fine friends, he thought, as he turned to look over and down at Jepaul.
He'd collapsed on the sand minutes before, but with the energy that returned so quickly to the young he was back on his feet and briefly responded to Sapphire. Both Sapphire and Quon saw that he played in the sand with a stick, flourishing letters and shapes carved in the wetness. Then both men realised, at the same moment, that Jepaul held Islasahn's staff. They stood motionless. The implication of the boy doing this held them dumb. Quon's hand stole to his mouth. Sapphire no longer looked amused.
What the men couldn't understand was why the staff no longer showed runes. It merely looked what the boy clearly thought it was, an old staff, useful for walking and poking at things. It showed no life. It was quite inert. Yet they knew, without doubt, that Islasahn had allowed this boy to touch her and she inflicted no retribution for his having done so.
“See what I found,” called out Jepaul cheerfully. “It's a staff a bit like yours, Quon, but it has no markings.”
Quon was aware of Javen's and Knellen's eyes upon him and hastily suggested they get ashore.
