by Drew Wagar
Maybe I can find a dead one …
As she pondered this she continued downhill, only belatedly noticing that the forest was thinning out. A few moments later she emerged, blinking in surprise, into a glorious wide open meadow filled with wildflowers and tall grasses. Nargs buzzed about her, darting between the bright plumes.
She looked around her, taking in the smell of pollen on the air and the bright sunshine. Nothing seemed amiss and the warmth brought a smile to her face. The meadow seemed to be the bottom of a valley, she could see that the forest began again on the far side where the land slowly rose up. It was as if a small pool of brightness had been dropped into the middle of the gloom. As she walked forward she could see that the meadow was surrounded by the forest; it was about the same size as one of Tarq’s fields.
She pressed on, finding the grasses came almost up to her chin. Ahead she became aware of the sound of running water and was overjoyed to find a wide stream cutting the meadow in two at its lowest extent. It put her in mind of the creek near the hall, though here the stream had cut an even deeper channel through the meadow.
Raga growled softly from beside her and she leant back and touched the beast.
Marsips!
Raga could smell them close by.
She looked around, not seeing anything. Raga was looking sunwards to her left, his muzzle raised, tasting the air. Zoella crouched down and cupped her hands around her ears, an old trick for enhancing her hearing she’d picked up from a passing traveller once.
She could just make out the characteristic squeaks of the fat rodents. They tended to live in burrows near the edge of the forests, using the trees as an escape route. Zoella knew they lived on nargs and grubs mostly. If they were down by the water they would be exposed. If startled, they would run back up the hill to wherever their burrow was.
Zoella touched Raga again and he growled softly. He understood the simple plan that Zoella intended. He crouched down, awaiting her signal. Zoella carefully retraced her steps as quietly as she could, stopping occasionally in order to check the position of the marsips. She continued to move until she was directly uphill of the creatures. Then she readied herself, knife in hand, poised to strike.
She gave a low whistle.
The squeaks of the marsips paused for a moment, clearly hearing the unusual sound and wondering what it was. When it didn’t repeat, their squeaks slowly resumed, oblivious that Raga was sneaking in from the shadeward.
The squeaks suddenly escalated into cries of alarm. Zoella heard a growl from Raga and then the sound of the tall grasses being crushed and broken. She could hear movement ahead of her, but it was at a tangent, not heading towards her.
Heading in the wrong direction! Their burrow must be sunwards!
Zoella jumped to her feet and began running as fast as she could directly towards the sunward end of the meadow, hoping to cut the marsips off. If they got to ground they’d be safe. There was no way she’d be able to dig them out of their burrow.
In their terror at the sight of the big carn descending on them, the marsips hadn’t considered there might be anything else to worry about in the long grasses. They panicked and ran for the forest.
Zoella found herself on a parallel course and turned slightly bringing herself on to their left flank. They were running fast, quicker than her. She would have only one chance to snare one.
Gasping for breath she pushed herself even harder, now at such a speed that the thick grass whipped painfully at her bare legs and arms.
She saw them. Fat bodies extended, leaping through the grass. Fans back and eyes wide with panic. There were at least ten of them. She chose one and leapt, throwing herself through the air with her knife outstretched.
As she leapt the marsip she’d selected turned its head and saw her, abruptly shifting its trajectory and diving aside.
Zoella stabbed, but only succeeded in scratching the creature, her blow wide and ineffective. She hit the ground, rolled twice and came to a halt. She was dirty, hot, sweaty, panting hard and absolutely livid with herself. The marsip disappeared into the long grass.
Missed!
She knew it would be chimes before the marsips emerged again and they’d be doubly wary now. She cursed under her breath.
Raga appeared beside her. He was likewise breathing quickly, with his fans blood red and fully extended, trying to cool himself down. The old carn was faster than the marsips over a short distance, but he no longer had the stamina for a long chase.
Zoella punched the ground in frustration. Raga nosed her speculatively.
‘I’m sorry, Raga,’ she said, flipping her knife over in her hand and sat up, brushing the dirt off her clothing. She sighed, wondering what to do next.
If we can find the burrow we might be able to smoke them out. No, can’t do that … making that much smoke will give me away …
As she was pondering this there came a frantic squeaking from behind them. Zoella and Raga both turned as two marsips, evidently left behind by their fellows, barrelled straight into them, following the flight of their companions.
Raga spun, snatching one marsip off its feet and sending it whirling through the air. He caught it as it fell, breaking its back deftly.
The second marsip skidded to a halt in front of Zoella. She caught sight of its fierce little eyes, twitching noise and curiously human-like hands. It opened its mouth and hissed at her, its fur standing on end, trying to make itself appear bigger.
Zoella was not intimidated. She kicked at the creature, sending it sprawling on its side. Before it could recover its feet she struck out with the knife, straight at the marsip’s heart. There was only a tiny splash of blood. The creature writhed for a moment, giving out a plaintive screech before lying still.
Zoella pulled the knife out in satisfaction. Raga paced back to her with the other marsip held in his jaws. He dropped it at her feet.
Quickly she set about skinning and then gutting both animals. She left one for Raga after she’d extracted the guts; stretched and dried properly they’d make an ideal string for her bow. Raga gulped down the raw meat hungrily. It was gone in seconds.
‘I’ll cook mine, if it’s all the same to you,’ she said, smiling at the carn. He yawned and licked his chops.
A few spells later Zoella sat with a satisfyingly full stomach next to the remains of the small fire she’d built on the edge of the forest. She’d lit it with her shard of sunglass and kept it as low as possible and only used dry wood, keeping it virtually smoke free. Once the marsip was cooked she’d extinguished it, spreading the embers and ash as far and wide as she could, hoping to avoid any obvious signs of her passing.
She’d stretched the guts of the first marsip across two branches of a shade. It would be dry enough soon, so she’d set about using her knife to carve the top and bottom of her bow so it could be strung. Arrows were easy enough to craft from the plentiful sticks of shadewood lying around, though she was forced to use strands of her hair to tie ripped bits of fabric from her tunic to act as flights.
She checked the gut and found it dry. She stretched it further and then took it down from the branches, tying knots and then looping it over her bow. It took a few attempts to get an appropriate tension that was powerful enough to be useful, but easy enough for her to draw. Once she was satisfied she took an arrow, notched it into place, aimed at a nearby shade, drew back the bowstring and fired.
It flew true, hitting the shade with a solid thump. It wasn’t as powerful as she would have liked, but it would serve against marsips and might give any pursuer cause to think twice too. She improvised a series of loops on her belt with the remaining thread, allowing her to keep all the arrows to hand.
Feeling pleased with herself as she unstrung the bow, Zoella signalled to Raga and set off again. She crossed the stream and began climbing up the other side of the meadow and plunged confidently into the forest again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daine, Capital of Drayden
Rou
nd 2306, Second Pass
‘You will hand her over to me immediately. It is already a travesty that she’s been allowed to live this long. She murdered my son!’
Handella Mer, captain of the temple guard, glared directly at the diminutive woman. Handella’s face was flushed, her ruddy hair swinging around her like a mane, blue eyes faded to an almost steely grey. She stood on one side of a tall table, arms outstretched, fists balled on the surface. She was leaning across as far as possible, her tall and broad frame casting a shadow across the smaller woman.
The second woman for her part was unmoved. Had she been standing she would barely have come to Handella’s shoulder. As it was, she remained seated, looking up, her lips pursed, her face almost blank, disinterested.
‘We have yet to hold the Quisition, Captain …’
‘I’ll have her torn asunder and fed to the carns for her crime! I’ll have the remains of her body dragged through the streets and then trampled by hergs, I’ll …’
The smaller woman leant forward slightly, almost imperceptibly, keeping her eyes locked on Handella’s.
‘You forget your place, good captain.’
The big woman made a visible effort to control herself, clearly unaccustomed to such exercise. She drew back, still furious.
‘My Lady,’ she acknowledged stiffly. Her voice shook. ‘But, my son!’
The small woman rose and walked around the table at which she had been seated, casting a glance around the hall in which the Quisition was about to take place. ‘You have my sympathies for your loss. But I will not judge this matter until I have heard all the testimony.’
‘You already have the word of the witnesses,’ Handella growled, gesturing to a group of people sitting upon benches to one side of the hall.
‘I have. May I say it is gratifying to see so many members of your family together in one place.’
‘Are you accusing me …?’
‘I am accusing no one at present. That will wait until I have heard all the accounts.’
Handella took a furious step towards her. ‘My son is dead,’ she spat. ‘That slum girl killed him. I want justice!’
The woman looked at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. ‘And justice is precisely what I intend to dispense. Do not presume to force my hand in this, captain.’
Handella’s eyes narrowed and she paused for a moment, before leaning in closer, whispering so their conversation could not be overheard.
‘I can further your ambitions in this place, Nerina. You know that.’
‘First intimidation and now bribery,’ Nerina said, with a note of amusement in her voice, stepping away with a sickly sweet smile, her eyebrow raised. ‘What a lot of new skills you are displaying today.’
‘Or I can bring you down,’ Handella growled. ‘You’d be wise not to make an enemy out of me over this.’
Nerina paused and turned to face Handella, fixing her with a cold stare. The bigger woman flinched, clutching her forehead as if afflicted by a sudden headache. Handella staggered back, away from Nerina, but Nerina closed the distance between them, speaking close into her ear.
‘You should look to your own words, good captain.’
Before Handella could respond, the doors to the corridor outside opened. Both women looked round.
Kiri was pushed into the large hall that opened out behind the double doors. It was full of carved furniture, tables, chairs, a large imposing desk and a series of benches arranged in parallel rows. The floor was marbled in a checkerboard pattern, with alternating red and sand coloured tiles. At intervals, just in front of the benches, tall metal oil burners were positioned, wrought to look like shades with their distinctive bowl shaped cup at the top. Flames flickered from them, providing a warm orange glow. Kiri swallowed as she remembered the flit in the shade forest, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
Seated on the front set of benches on the left hand side was a group of four people. Kiri’s heart sank as she recognised two of them. Choso’s younger brothers. Both were dressed in fine garb, like a pair of miniature high-borns. She saw the first nudge the second. Both looked at her for a moment, taking in her new appearance before the whole family were glaring at her with undisguised hatred. She dropped her gaze.
Ahead of her two more people stood. The first was a tall and sturdy looking woman with a full head of unruly red hair and a tough cruel expression on her face. She turned as the door opened. Kiri saw her straighten, her eyes glinting as she looked at Kiri, her lip curling in a snarl. Kiri trembled but then screwed up her courage and raised her head. The resemblance was obvious.
Choso’s mother …
The second person was a young woman of delicate beauty, perhaps ten rounds older than Kiri herself. She looked thin and frail. She was draped in a pure black garment with no other accoutrements, putting Kiri in mind of the stories of wraiths she told to the younger onlies to scare them in the sleeping. It was almost as if the woman’s body wasn’t there. Kiri’s eyes swept back to the pale face, almost white in contrast. Her eyes were large and dark. She wore her hair in the style of the priestesses, with the silver streak supported by a tiara far more intricate than any she had seen before. Unlike them, the left side of her head above and around her ear was shaved neatly down to the skin, with her hair grown long on the other, cascading down over her right shoulder. The obligatory triangular pendant was on display.
The woman had been speaking to Choso’s mother. Her head snapped around as the door opened and Kiri was pushed in by Charis. Kiri tried to read the expression on her face, but was left unsure. The woman’s stare was intimidating and unnervingly intense.
The doors behind closed with an echoing clank and silence reigned in the hall, other than the faint crackle of the flames.
The woman’s eyes never left Kiri’s, but she walked forward for a moment and then stopped. She looked aside at Choso’s mother. For a moment they exchanged a fierce glare before Choso’s mother subsided and retreated to sit with her family on the benches. The diminutive woman looked back at Kiri again without speaking a word.
She raised her hand and gave a tiny gesture with her fingers.
Kiri felt the wooden chair jolt and she was pushed forward under the woman’s imperious gaze. She clenched her jaw and looked up, mustering what strength she had, refusing to be intimidated.
‘Nerina, high priestess elect,’ Charis acknowledged from behind her. ‘We bring Kiri, accused of the murder of Choso Mer, here to be subject to your judgement.’
‘Priestess Charis,’ Nerina acknowledged.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kiri saw Charis bow in response.
Nerina nodded almost imperceptibly and then dismissed the other priestesses with a sideways flick of her eyes. All four of them left Kiri and stepped quickly to the right side of the room, sitting on the benches opposite to Handella and her family. Kiri shivered, looking across at Charis for support, but she had her head bowed.
Nerina waited until they had taken their seats. Then she slowly stepped around Kiri. Kiri tried to follow her movements, but couldn’t turn her head far enough. She looked the other way as Nerina completed a short circle around her.
Nerina remained silent, but slowly proceeded back to the table in front of Kiri and lowered herself elegantly into the high-backed chair that was positioned behind it, never letting her eyes stray from Kiri’s face. Kiri found she couldn’t hold her gaze, she had never encountered a stare so penetrating and uncomfortable. Yet each time she looked up, Nerina’s eyes had yet to move.
Kiri felt something push at her, as if a pressure had been applied to her forehead. She resisted for a moment, but was almost immediately overwhelmed. A tingle and then …
You are in great peril, young one.
Power, control, anticipation!
Kiri stared back into the dark eyes, shivering.
That was the voice that first spoke to me! What did she say? I’ve found you, now much can be done … what did she mean?
Murder is no small
thing …
The words were accompanied by a chilling sense of fear, punishment and torture. By the time she recovered enough to consider saying something in return Nerina had dropped her gaze.
She can speak to me without touching me! Was that my chance? Have I already missed …
‘This Quisition is in session,’ Nerina said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet somehow it carried around the room, bringing all present to abrupt attention. She looked across at Handella. ‘Who brings this petition?’
‘I do, priestess elect.’ Handella was on her feet immediately.
‘State your case,’ Nerina said.
‘My three sons were returning from the trade stalls in the market ten stretches ago. This snuttin’ slum girl …’
Nerina shot her a look and snapped. ‘I will have decorum. You will mind your tongue in my presence.’
Kiri saw Handella’s nostrils flare and her face darken, but she managed to keep her temper.
‘This girl from the slums,’ she continued, dripping as much scorn has she could on the description, ‘followed them, clearly thinking to relieve them of their hard-earned coin. She set about them with a stick, injuring all three of them.’
Kiri opened her mouth to refute this accusation was but restrained by a warning look from Charis. Charis was shaking her head very slightly.
‘A single slum girl attacked three boys of the city?’ Nerina asked, her eyebrows raised. ‘How brave.’
‘My eldest son, my pride and joy, fought back. Only this stretch I had given him his first sword and some training in how to use it …’
‘Men cannot join the army,’ Nerina said. ‘Why should you do such a thing? Men are not trustworthy in such matters. This we all know.’
‘It was only for defence,’ Handella replied. ‘The slum dwellers steal knifes and use them without thought or regard. It’s too dangerous …’
Kiri wondered if Handella sounded nervous, it was difficult to tell.
