by Drew Wagar
Daf and Creg had pulled in the ropes.
‘Now Meru!’
Meru heard Mel call from behind him. He closed the breakers and pulled the regulator back against its lowest stops. He heard the engines pulse and then the ship was moving.
‘Fitch …’
Meru looked out of the windows to see what was happening.
The natives had stopped, forming a cluster around their two fallen comrades. Fitch held his ground, his rifle raised and ready.
The natives began chanting in a strange rhythmic fashion and then one gestured at the ship. Meru could see his beard reached almost to his feet. A moment later the pack of old men were sprinting towards the ship. Fitch fired again and a third man went down, but this time they didn’t stop their headlong rush. Fitch took a step backwards in surprise.
The Mobilis was moving now, gaining speed with every moment.
‘Fitch! Jump for it man!’
Meru watched as Coran ran forward towards the bow, countering the ship’s movement. Fitch was running now ahead of the crowd of natives.
The gap between the ship and the quay was widening fast. Fitch leapt. Meru’s heart felt as if it were jumping into his throat.
He’s not going to make it!
Fitch splashed into the water just short of the ship amidst a hail of spears. Many came close, but fortunately none hit him. Meru saw him come to the surface.
Coran threw one of the mooring ropes. Fitch grabbed for it, his grip slipping down as the Mobilis continued to gain speed. Belatedly Meru paid attention to the helm, straightening the ship as it careened backwards in an arc, in danger of ramming the next quay alongside. The Mobilis rolled drunkenly, but then continued to back out into the bay.
Coran was dragging Fitch aboard, hauling on the rope hand over hand and then wrenching the sodden gunslinger out of the water. Meru watched in relief as Fitch and Coran collapsed to the deck. The spears fell short.
They were out of danger. Coran helped Fitch to his feet. Both appeared to be unharmed. Meru watched as they laughed and clasped hands.
Mel came up beside him.
‘That was a little too close …’
Meru nodded.
Fitch saved me though, might have saved all of us! He stood and fought fearlessly …
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Viresia, Capital of Scallia
Round 2306, Eighth Pass
Torin knocked gently at the door. For a moment there was no response, but then a woman’s voice murmured from inside. He opened the door, slipped inside and eased it shut behind him.
Liana’s room was lavish, fitted and furnished with the best of Scallian art, decoration and comforts. Gilded candelabras vied with ornately wrought furniture for the attention of visitors to her room. It was draped with tapestries and rugs; the smoothest, finest linen and bedding graced her bed.
Liana sat in front of a mirror, brushing her hair with a fine comb made from the shell of some unnamed sea creature from the coast. Satisfied she adjusted a pair of hairclips and examined her face in the mirror. He heard her sigh in satisfaction.
She turned to look at him, feigning surprise.
‘Torin, what brings you to me at this late chime …’
Torin walked across to her, covering the distance quickly in long strides. He took her in his arms, kissing her possessively. She didn’t resist.
‘Uncle!’ she finally said, when he released her. ‘I’m sure such behaviour is not becoming …’
‘Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it.’
‘I tease, a woman’s prerogative, no?’
‘I would prefer not to be always sneaking around like a love-struck child.’
She touched his arm, dropping her voice. ‘Patience my love. It will not be long. Your father grows older by the stretch.’
‘Ioric waits for this too.’
Liana laughed. ‘Ioric? My father is a fool. He is weak and easily manipulated. Leave him to me.’ She ran her arms up his chest and draped them around his neck, looking into his eyes. ‘You’re the one the people will look to, the strongest son. Together we are royal blood and royal blood. We can bring Scallia back to greatness.’
She kissed him briefly, before moving away.
‘You’re ready to visit the witches?’
‘Yes. I leave soon.’
‘Good. The army?’
‘They stand ready. They will fight at my command. Resentment for the choosing grows at a fever pitch.’
Liana smiled. ‘I should hope so, after all my efforts.’
‘What would you have me do?’
Liana turned back to him, licking her lips. She leant in close. ‘Refute their demands, force their hand. I want a war.’
‘If a war is to be fought it is I who will decide, woman.’ Torin said, raising his head and looking down at her.
‘Of course my Prince,’ she said demurely. ‘I only wish to see you rule and stand by your side.’
‘Make sure you remember it,’ Torin said. ‘I have kept you safe from the choosing all these years, it would have been easy enough to have handed you over.’
Liana pouted. ‘Surely there have been other compensations? And would you be able to take Scallia back without me?’
‘Scallia will be mine,’ Torin said, a hunger in his voice.
‘Scallia?’ Liana shrugged. ‘It is but a first step. We can take Drayden … and then Drem and Taloon will follow. Think Torin, the Voren empire re-established in your name. A far cry from the failed kingdom of your grandfather or Ioric’s paltry ambition for peace and appeasement.’
‘An empire!’
‘But it starts with Drayden. They are the key. This search of theirs, it shows their weakness. Their power wanes. The women of Drayden grow desperate; there will never be a better time for us to attack them.’
‘And the witches’ power? It can break even the strongest men.’
Liana laughed, ‘Women have always been able to break the strongest men.’
‘I’m serious. I felt it. We cannot fight against such advantages.’
‘I don’t believe they have many with such gifts.’ Liana looked unconcerned. ‘You met a single witch, you were surprised. Can they turn back a flight of arrows? No. Perhaps they have a few dozen with that strength, no more. Their warriors are fierce and well trained, but our strength is sufficient for that.’
‘We must be sure.’
Liana smiled. ‘And that is your true quest my love, search out their weakness, gauge their strength … then defy them.’
Torin grinned. ‘It is about time we dealt with them, it will be a pleasure to put them in their place. But what of Ioric and his diplomacy?’
‘Leave my father to me, that is not the tricky part.’
‘What do you mean?’ Torin frowned.
‘The ragged urchin girl he brought with him, she has the gift too.’
‘You sensed this?’ Torin asked, frowning. Liana nodded.
‘Ioric lied about his hunt, he doesn’t trust me.’ Torin cursed. ‘How can this be? Only those of royal blood … or did I misunderstand?’
Liana shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Some bastard child or distant offspring would be my guess. I will deal with her, do not fear.’
‘Ioric knows more than he says …’
Liana nodded. ‘A ruse of course, he seeks out the gifted for his own ends.’
‘You have the strength for all this?’
Liana’s mouth opened and she gave him a sultry look before turning her back on him and walking away a few steps. She threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘You doubt me, after all this time?’
Torin swallowed. ‘I …’
She turned on her heel and gestured towards him with a slight motion of her hand. From nowhere lust burnt through his limbs, red hot, demanding release. He almost staggered, feeling sweat break out across his forehead, blood surging through his body. Liana undid a clasp on her dress and let it fall with the barest shake of her shoulders. She stood before
him, all curves in the dim candlelight, slowly advancing on him. She was unbearably desirable. He reached out towards her in the grip of an urge too primitive for him to even name.
Her voice filled his mind, his soul, his all.
Resist me then, if you can …
Two men, one astride a herg, conversed in low tones early the following stretch. Ioric patted the herg his brother was riding. It was saddled for a long journey, packed with bags, tools and provisions. Three guards rode alongside him.
‘All set?’ Ioric asked.
‘Aye. As ready as I can be,’ Torin answered, pulling his clothes tighter about him. The wind was cold and bitter. ‘For once I’ll be happy to go sunward. It’s so cold!’
‘You know the road too.’
‘All too familiar now. You can go next time.’
Ioric grinned. ‘Perhaps there won’t be a next time.’
Torin shook his head. ‘This search the witches request. I don’t see it being anything other than a new source of woe for us.’
‘I fear you’re right. But this is a chance to understand them better. They must have a weakness. This search is enshrined in the old treaty, but they’ve never invoked it before as far as I know. That means something has changed for them, perhaps they grow desperate for something. We must find out what it is.’
‘I will do my utmost. Finding a way to block their powers would give us a way to stand against their demands in future. That would be a sweet thing.’
‘Be cautious though. You know what they are capable of, better than most.’
Torin nodded. ‘I have no wish to go through that experience again, but neither will I bow the knee willingly.’
‘See if you can open a dialogue. Perhaps if we can talk, we can understand each other better.’
‘Ever the diplomat …’
Ioric grinned and gestured to the crown atop his head. ‘Alas, I fear my travelling days are at an end for a while. Scallia changes too, brother. We will set right the deprivations of the past, rebuild our kingdom. Perhaps this opportunity with the witches bodes well for us. Let’s try friendship first.’
Torin made a disparaging sound. ‘From the witches?’
Ioric grasped his hand fondly. ‘Turn your face to Lacaille …’
Torin shook his head. ‘You are such an old traditionalist.’
‘Come, brother. For luck, if nothing else.’
Torin grinned. ‘For you.’
He sat back in his saddle and gestured forward, crying out in a loud voice.
‘And your shadows fall behind you!’
On the last word he kicked at his herg, causing it to rear up on its hind legs. He and the guards left at a gallop through the main gates of Scallia, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake.
Clouds had blotted out the light of Lacaille for several stretches, thick and heavy, rolling in from the shadeward. Rain cascaded in sheets, hammering down on the courtyards of the city for long spells, soaking everything. It stayed cold too, the shadeward wind sharp and bitter.
Zoella had heard folk muttering about it. Whilst the occasional storm would beset Scallia, they typically blew up from the sunward, the rain heavy and thick, but warm and short-lived. The weather seemed unruly.
Zoella didn’t have much time to ponder it. Liana had sent her to the kitchens whereupon she had quickly been set to work peeling melps and stirring dishes. The kitchens were frenetically busy. Boys ran back and forth with supplies of chopped and dried shadewood, stoking the fires around the expansive facilities. The girls were set to work cooking under Liana’s supervision. Zoella, more used to working in the fields had no idea what to do and had quickly been relegated to the chores of carrying things around, being sent this way and that throughout the Tiamoi house.
She’s hardly seen Ioric for the last two passes. He’d been dealing with matters of state and seemed overly preoccupied. Clearly his father was keeping him busy. Zoella didn’t mind too much. No one was paying her much attention. It seemed she was safe.
She brought a tray of food from the kitchens up to the dining room, struggling with the heavy doors.
Inside Liana was talking to Ioric. They looked up as she entered. Ioric looked surprised to see her, but Liana gave a satisfied smile.
‘Ah, my dinner. Don’t hesitate maid, bring it here.’
Zoella hurried across.
‘What is this?’ Ioric demanded as Zoella set the tray before Liana and stood back. ‘I asked you to find accommodation for her, not to turn her into a skivvy.’
‘You said she was a maid,’ Liana said. ‘I run the household and order its ways. I set her to work. We can’t have people standing idle now, can we?’
‘I did not intend …’ Ioric began. ‘How long has she …?’
‘Then she is not a maid?’ Liana asked. ‘Did I misunderstand? You said she was looking for a position here in the court, she has to earn her place like all the others.’
Zoella saw Ioric clench his jaw. He briefly looked up at her and then looked back to Liana.
‘I am happy to serve, my Prince,’ Zoella said. ‘It is a privilege to be here amongst your family as a maid.’
Liana spared her a glance before replying.
‘You see, clumsy and ill-prepared though she is, she knows her place. Do not concern yourself with trivia. A Prince has far better things to do with his time, I’m sure.’
She’s clever, she knows something and Ioric can’t admit it …
‘She is a maid …’
‘Then she serves,’ Liana said primly. ‘I will have no favourites and since we don’t have much call for the slaying of molosscs hereabouts she will have to offer what service she can.’
‘She is to be treated well,’ Ioric said, a stern note creeping into his voice.
‘Of course,’ Liana said. ‘Though she can’t cook, nor does she know the etiquette. Strange that you felt it was appropriate to bring her; were there no better choices in the sunward plains? If I didn’t trust your judgement so implicitly I would be forced to guess she had never been a maid before coming here. I would send her back given the choice.’
She’s using me as a way to get back at her father. Why are they so estranged?
‘She stays.’ Ioric’s voice was sharp.
‘I will find such tasks as I can for her,’ Liana said with a sigh. ‘She knows more about the beasts than she does about the laundry. Perhaps that can be useful.’
‘I will not have her mistreated, mark my words.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Liana poked briefly at the food on her tray. ‘I’m no longer hungry, take this away.’
Zoella wanted to sigh, but didn’t dare. She collected the tray and left without a word.
Liana didn’t waste any time. Zoella, much to the tittering of the girls and the relief of the boys for escaping the chore, was sent to the stables. There she was immediately set to work mucking out the hergs. It was foul work, but nothing that she hadn’t previously endured at Tarq’s hall. It was evident to the beastmaster in charge of the stables that she knew what she was doing and so she was left unsupervised for the most part.
In many ways she preferred the work. Raga was able to stay with her even if he wasn’t able to do much but lope around and try to stay out of the way. The big carn was restless, picking up Zoella’s anxieties and unable to do anything to protect her. He contented himself with growling low in his throat at any passers-by. Most did not venture close.
It was still cold and getting colder. Zoella shivered against it, her thin tunic inadequate protection from the elements. Two of the hergs had been scrubbed and cleaned, she was just starting on the third when she heard a cry of surprise from outside.
She put down her brushes and stepped outside. The cold was biting now, the wind gusting around the stables, whistling eerily in the eaves of the building. The beastmaster was looking up, standing hands on hips and looking up in the sky.
Zoella looked and felt her insides contract in alarm.
The
rain had ceased, replaced with something else. Falling gently and silently from the sky was a whiteness, fluffy and soft. It fell upon the flagstones with no noise and then disappeared into nothing. Zoella held out her hand, feeling the icy chill as the flakes landed on her palm, turning to drops of water on her pink skin.
She shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.
My dream! Flecks of white from the sky …
It grew heavier, falling for several chimes, covering the city and the lands about in a soft blanket of whiteness, unseen in Scallia in living memory. After the initial trepidation, the people of the city quickly discovered the fun that could be had in what Zoella had heard was called ‘snow’. The beastmaster was summoned to prepare the hergs. The King would be riding out to survey the spectacle at the first chime of the new stretch.
Zoella was set to work saddling the enormous beasts in readiness. The saddles were heavy and ornate, with intricately finished metal buckles. Flags and banners were set in leather bound fittings. All the hergs were dressed in finery, with ornate headpieces, bits and tackle. Zoella had learnt to plait their fibrous tails ready for dressage. Raga stayed under the eaves of the stables, looking at the falling snow suspiciously. He refused to venture out in it.
Zoella watched the royal family arrive in the courtyard, where the hergs stood arranged behind the beastmaster. Zoella stood off to one side, holding the reins of another. The king emerged, wrapped in a thick heavy cloak that looked enticingly warm. Zoella resisted a shiver as more of the snow settled upon her.
Behind him came Ioric, dressed in a similar fashion. Zoella’s eyes narrowed as she spotted Liana, dressed in brightly dyed furs, follow him out, along with several Lords and Ladies, still sporting their animal masks.
Ioric saw Zoella and walked towards her, taking hold of the reins of the herg.
‘Well prepared,’ he said, looking at the herg appreciatively. ‘You’ve done well.’
‘Thank you, my Prince.
Ioric wasn’t looking at her, but his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘A good time to be investigating whilst we fool about outside.’
Zoella nodded.
Ioric raised his voice again, loud enough to be overheard.
