Soul Bonds: Book 1 Circles of Light series

by E.M. Sinclair

Gan had not travelled far when he came to a halt so sharply that Sket trod on his heels. As Sket opened his mouth to apologise, he too felt the ringing call in his mind. Gan, as one of the People, absorbed Iska’s cry fully. He looked at the four men and they stepped back a pace at the glittering anger in his eyes. A moment longer he stood, then he began to hurry back the way they had come.

  ‘The Lady Iska is dead,’ he said tersely. ‘The Golden Lady herself has brought Guards here. Our first duty is to aid her.’

  They approached Rudd, who was climbing dizzily to his feet. His eyes widened in alarm as they advanced.

  ‘Tell me the swiftest way to the lowest levels of this place.’ Gan ordered him.

  ‘Down there Sir, to the main entrance. Any passage to the left takes you to the barracks but only fighters are allowed there.’

  He quailed as Gan stared at him, and groped for the wall to help him stay upright. Gan nodded but as he moved past, Rudd said tentatively, ‘I thought there was a Dragon here just now Sir?’

  ‘There was, and there will be more.’ Gan flung the reply over his shoulder as they rounded the corner. Rudd sagged and slid back down the wall, clutching his head.

  They met no one else as they half ran down the gently sloping passage and turned a final curve. They found Kija towering up so that her head was level with them despite there being a considerable distance for them to reach the floor of the entrance chamber. Her eyes flickered with gold and scarlet lights as she lowered herself again as she recognised Gan and his men.

  ‘We must find the lower levels,’ said Gan. ‘The Lady Emla is there with more Guards.’

  Kija made a growling sound deep in her throat. ‘Tika is there also, and both of my children. The ones in black clothes came from those tunnels which Brin watches.’

  Gan glanced towards the smouldering remains of the great gateway and saw Lorak standing by Fenj. Lorak raised his hand.

  ‘Lord Mim went up where you came from Lord Gan.’

  Gan nodded and walked across the hall to Brin.

  ‘I give you sympathy for your Lady Iska,’ the crimson Dragon murmured.

  ‘Thank you Brin. The Guardian will pay.’

  Gan and his four men passed quickly into a passage leading downward much more steeply. In another open space a dozen fighters were huddled, apparently arguing as Gan appeared. Instantly, Gan launched himself in their midst. Two died before Sket and Trem reached the fighters, Gan’s sword slashing and cutting with no wasted movements. Kran and Motass set upon four fighters who sought to flee, killing them before they had run ten paces.

  As the last of the fighters fell to Trem’s sword, they heard a Dragon’s screaming roar, a roar of fury and pain. They stood frozen as Gan tried to focus on the meaning of the sound. The roar came again, and yet again. Gan began to run on down to the lower part of the stronghold.

  ‘Sir,’ Sket ventured. ‘What was that Dragon cry for?’

  ‘It was Kija. Farn is badly wounded and Kija cannot reach him. These tunnels are too narrow for the great Dragons. Quickly now!’

  His men needed no further urging, especially Sket and Motass who regarded Tika and Mim and the two young Dragons as their special responsibility.

  They met more fighters in straggling groups, some helping wounded comrades along. A few of these instantly engaged with Gan’s men, but others wearily threw down their weapons and hunched by the wall. Angry as Gan was, he did not order death for those who capitulated. One fighter, his hands tightly clutching his upper leg where blood pumped through his fingers with each heart beat, looked up at Gan from where he lay propped against a comrade.

  ‘Not many now Sir,’ he answered in reply to Gan’s question as to the numbers of fighters.

  ‘Stay here then, until we return. Any of you who are uninjured, see to your fellows who are.’

  He turned away and continued along the passage.

  ‘Stars! What’s that?’ Kran spat as a stink filled their nostrils. He stared with the others in horror at the beast that lay sprawled before them. They moved past, noting that the creature appeared to have dragged itself some distance with mortal wounds, judging by the blood trail beyond. Then they all paused.

  The next stretch of well-lit passageway was littered with many more of the monstrous bodies. Men in the Guardian’s black uniforms lay among them. There were also blue uniformed Guards lying motionless. A Snow Dragon confronted them, eyes blazing white ice, but calming to a pale butter colour as she recognised Gan. Gan’s sight was fixed on a group against the rock wall. Kemti stood with his arm across Emla’s shoulders. Jeela’s head hung low over Farn’s silvery blue form, and even from where he stood, Gan could hear Tika’s sobs over the groans of the wounded.

  Somehow he found himself next to Emla. She turned to him smiling, despite tears gleaming on her dirty face.

  ‘Tika healed him Gan, but he was sorely wounded.’

  Gan saw the long line of naked hide curving down Farn’s neck and could imagine all too well how near to death the young Dragon had come. He touched Jeela lightly.

  ‘Your mother knew Farn was hurt. Does she know he is well again?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jeela’s eyes were bright faceted diamonds. ‘She said she has never heard of such a great healing Gan.’ Her tone in his mind was filled with awe.

  Farn lifted his head carefully, and sapphire eyes met Gan’s dark stare. Gan nodded and stooped, lifting Tika easily from Farn’s side. He carried her to a clearer space and looked down at her. She was covered in blood, most of it Farn’s but he guessed quite a bit was from the bodies scattered around the passage. Sket leaned over his shoulder.

  ‘Looks like you remembered your sword lessons, Lady!’ he said softly.

  ‘Looks like,’ she agreed.

  Sket nodded and turned away to help with the wounded Guards. Tika looked at Gan. ‘Sorry,’ she said, rubbing at her teary cheeks and making an even worse mess with her bloody fingers.

  Gan grunted and used his cuff to wipe some of the worst of the grime away. She seemed quite contented, lying against his shoulder, but he was aware it was her utter exhaustion – physical and mental – that kept her there.

  Mim had met no resistance, only servants who flattened themselves to the wall – or the floor – at sight of Ashta trailing a few paces behind him. Most of the servants were struck dumb, quite unable to answer Mim’s question as to the Guardian’s whereabouts.

  He staggered back against Ashta as Iska’s final cry flooded through them. Ashta moaned in distress and Mim turned to comfort her. She finally calmed.

  ‘She was nearby when she called,’ she told Mim. ‘Very near.’

  Mim drew his knife and proceeded along the passage. A door ahead opened and an elderly female servant came out. She was weeping and did not notice Mim and

  Ashta’s approach.

  ‘Where is the Lady Iska?’ Mim asked quietly.

  The servant sniffled her tears back and then stared in shock at the pair who stood beside her.

  ‘We wish you no harm,’ Mim said hastily. ‘We seek the Guardian also.’

  ‘And Bark,’ Ashta added in his mind.

  ‘And Bark,’ Mim repeated aloud.

  ‘Bark is inside. He weeps for the Lady.’ The servant shuddered. ‘The Master said he was going to his study and none must enter until he summoned them.’

  This female was the first to retain some semblance of normality in the presence of Ashta and Mim. Her eyes strayed from Mim’s face to Ashta’s, then settled on an orange head poking from a bag hanging from Mim’s neck. She bobbed a curtsey and put her hand to the door latch.

  ‘Bark will be glad to see friends I am sure. I’ve always thought he seemed so sad and lonely. Though the People are so different from us, Bark has always been kind. My old mother used to say: “You can take any troubles to Lord Bark and never hear a cross word.”’

  As she pushed open the door her hand fluttered toward Ashta then hesitated. Ashta’s eyes whirred and she moved her head to bump gently aga
inst the woman’s hand as she passed through the doorway. The door closed and the servant stood staring at her hand.

  ‘I touched a Dragon! Stars, but I touched a Dragon!’

  In the chamber, two servants stood frozen, one stooped by the fire, the other in midstep towards the great bed. Khosa wiggled free of her travelling bag and leaped upon the bed. Bark sat beside the head of the bed leaning forward with both his hands enclosing one of Iska’s and his head sunk onto his chest. Khosa walked daintily along the side of Iska’s body then sat neatly, her tail wrapped across her front feet, and gazed from Iska up to Bark. She gave an odd little chirruping noise and then began her buzzing croon.

  Bark raised his gaunt face and the corner of his mouth twitched a fraction.

  ‘You visit me again, little Kephi.’ As the croon paused, Bark amended: ‘Your majesty.’ A skeletal finger touched Khosa’s head and the croon continued. ‘You choose a sorrowful time to visit, Khosa. This beautiful Lady is dead and I wish it were I in her place.’

  Khosa glanced at Mim and he took a step forward, Ashta keeping close. It was Ashta who spoke in the mind speech Bark had used to Khosa.

  ‘We knew Lady Iska. We grieve for her also.’

  Bark stared at Ashta, his finger still resting on Khosa. Then his sunken eyes moved to Mim. He rose from the chair, a frail ghostly giant, and went to stand before Mim. He placed his hands on Mim’s shoulders and stared at the strange eyes with their vertical pupils, and at the scales now plain across Mim’s cheeks and brow. Bark sank to his knees, his head level with Mim’s.

  ‘A Dragon Lord,’ he whispered aloud. ‘I have read of such things but I believed them only to be children’s tales unfounded in truth.’

  Ashta hung her head over Mim’s shoulder and said proudly: ‘I am Ashta, his soul bond.’

  Bark studied her for a moment then he put one of his hands to the side of her face.

  ‘So beautiful Ashta, and so young!’ He stood again, extending his hand towards the bed. ‘Speak your farewells to Iska and then you must tell what your arrival here means.’

  Bark went to the fireside and asked the servant crouched motionless there, for a warming drink.

  ‘Will they harm us Bark?’

  ‘No, no, Galt. They are friends.’

  As Mim lifted Khosa to his shoulder and crossed the room to join Bark, the cry came. Ashta’s prismed eyes flashed wildly from pale green to dark green with red and gold sparks, and she shifted from side to side, clearly in anguish. Bark felt it too, the pain searing through his damaged mind.

  ‘What is it Bark?’ Galt caught Bark’s arm tightly. ‘What’s wrong Bark?’

  Bark opened his eyes. ‘One of the Dragons is dreadfully wounded.’ He looked at Mim. Mim leaned against Ashta’s shoulder, his lower lids brimming with tears.

  ‘Tika is attempting to heal Farn,’ he whispered.

  ‘Tika? Farn?’ Bark asked.

  ‘Another soul bonded pair,’ Khosa said in an unusually subdued tone.

  Bark shook his head. ‘Another pair,’ he echoed.

  Ashta said: ‘Emla is there. She fears that Farn will die.’ She became greatly agitated, insisting that she and Mim should go to the lower levels were Farn lay so hurt. Mim held her tight, asking her to wait, to see if Tika was able to heal Farn. It seemed an endless time. Ashta grew quiet, clearly watching through Jeela’s mind, what was happening to Farn.

  Galt had made some hot tea, moving soundlessly by the hearth. Now he put a cup into Bark’s hand and raised an eyebrow towards Mim questioningly.

  ‘Not yet,” Bark whispered. “But thank you for the thought.’

  Suddenly Khosa did her hind-end-up, front-end-down stretch, then began to give her ears a thorough wash. Bark watched Ashta and the boy holding her. He could feel their communication with others but he was incapable of intercepting it himself. But seconds after Khosa’s stretch, Bark saw relief and tears on both the boy’s face, and amazingly, on the Dragon’s. Khosa crooned as she continued her washing.

  ‘Farn will live Bark,’ she announced. ‘I expect Mim could drink some of that dreadful hot stuff now.’

  Ashta reclined and Mim sat resting against her chest. His tears shimmered on the tiny gold scales edging his cheekbones.

  ‘The Delvers and the Snow Dragons told us of your presence here Bark. They could not get close enough to really help you though, but they hoped their singing gave you some comfort.’

  ‘I did not know who they were, but yes, they felt kindly to me. But why are you here now – Dragons, and a Dragon Lord – I do not understand.’

  ‘There are Guards -’

  ‘And the Lady Emla herself,’ added Ashta.

  ‘-In the lowest part of this place. I came with the great Dragons to the main entrance – they are too big for the last tunnels.’

  Mim handed his cup back to Galt and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Will you stay with Lady Iska?’ Galt nodded wordlessly. Mim stood. ‘Then come, Bark. I think we should return to the entrance chamber. The Guards are coming up and will be there soon. Then we can begin the search for the Guardian.’

  ‘He went to his study but he will have warded the door, I’m sure.’

  Bark opened the door for Ashta and Mim and the three went down the curving passages until once more Kija’s golden head confronted them. Bark stared in amazement then he bowed deeply.

  ‘Greetings, beautiful one. I am Bark.’

  Kija’s eyes were still flashing with anger and concern for her son but after a short pause, she lowered herself and replied: ‘Greetings, Bark. I am Kija.’

  Bark’s wondering gaze moved past Kija to the huge crimson bulk of Brin, lying relaxed, but facing the tunnels leading down to the barracks.

  ‘That is Brin, the son of Fenj. And this is Fenj.’ Mim’s hand pulled at Bark’s sleeve drawing him towards what was left of the entrance gate.

  Fenj rose erect, his eyes grey slate with jet lights in their depths.

  ‘Greetings to you, damaged one.’ He lowered himself and added. ‘This is Lorak of the Garden.’

  Bark blinked at the ancient human who was bowing before him.

  ‘Pleased to meet you Sir. You look as though a restorative would be of assistance?’ Lorak suggested thoughtfully.

  ‘Splendid creature,’ Fenj murmured. ‘I highly recommend you try a sip, Lord Bark.’

  As Bark was offered a leather bottle, the sound of feet and of voices came from the tunnel to the left of where Brin kept watch.

  Rhaki stepped out of the mosaic circle and conjured a small flame on the tip of a finger. Looking round, he found an oil filled lamp just where he had left it several Seasons before. The flame on his finger winked out and the lamp lit with a faint hiss. He was in a cave in the far southern reaches of the Ancient Mountains. In fact, this cave where he was, was inside mere foothills, the mountains scoured down in the long ages since their birth.

  Rhaki was drained from his expenditure of power in the setting of wards in the Realm of Ice and the much greater effort of using the circle to move himself bodily over such a vast distance. He exhaled slowly and his shoulders sagged, but he had to do one more thing before he could rest. He moved to one section of the circular cave and pressed the rock delicately, muttering as he did so. A space slid open and Rhaki lugged his leather bag unsteadily through to the newly revealed chamber. With the last of his strength, he fetched the lamp, sealed the doorway behind him and sank to the floor.

  It was many hours before he awoke and he groaned as he moved. Lying on the stone floor would have been bad enough but his use of power had left him aching in every joint and muscle. He lay still, concentrating lightly on the worst hurting places – the hip on which he’d lain, his back and his head. He managed to reduce the pain to a persistent but bearable ache before he attempted to sit up.

  He looked around. The few items were as he had left them, not that anyone would have found their way to these caves. There was a wooden chest with blankets neatly folded on its top. Rhaki
wished ruefully that he could have managed to at least have reached them before he collapsed. He got to his feet and staggered. Stars be cursed, but he was weak! When his vision stopped its vortex swirling, he tottered to the chest, pushing aside the blankets. Lifting the lid, he peered inside. A couple of scrolls and books he had left there ages since, a metal canister, a plain goblet and a tall, narrow jug. He knew he had to wait for his strength to be renewed, he could not risk the humans here seeing him in this parlous state.

  Rhaki straightened, holding the jug, and nearly toppled into the chest as dizziness swept him again. He gritted his teeth and waited for the spinning to stop. He let the outer, weatherproof cloak fall from his shoulders as, moving like a decrepit ancient he made his way out of the chamber. He skirted the mosaic circle and found the concealed door beyond. Even directing the tiny amount of power involved in opening the door nearly sent him to his knees. He braced himself against the rock and felt his way along a narrow twisting tunnel.

  One more wall to unseal and then he was in a wider passage. Soon Rhaki could hear the gentle trickle of water and he gave a relieved groan. A spring filled a shallow basin of rock a few paces on and beyond that branches tangled across the outlet to the cave. The faintest starlight prickled through and when Rhaki had filled his jug with water, he stepped closer to the overgrown entrance, trying to judge the position of the stars.

  He had been unconscious at least half a day but he had no way of guessing if this was the second or even third night since he had fled his stronghold. Biting his lip to suppress a groan, Rhaki shuffled back through the passage and the mosaic chamber to his hiding place. His breath gusted out in a sigh of relief as he sealed himself in again.

  Taking the canister and goblet from the chest he put them on the floor beside the jug, then heaped the blankets against the wall. He rested himself on them for a few minutes before pouring icy water from the jug to the goblet and raising it shakily to his lips. There were dried fruits in the canister but he hadn’t the energy to reach for them. Pulling his woollen cloak close around himself, Rhaki lay flat. He would have to rest longer than he might have wished, but he knew he had to be back to his full strength before appearing to the local humans.

  His mind drifted lightly to the Realm of Ice and his mouth curved in a smile that did not reach his eyes. He had lost that battle, but the war was by no means lost, for war it was. At least those cursed followers of Emla’s would not reach the Balance. He frowned. He didn’t think they could – but then, he hadn’t expected them to break into his stronghold.

  He had plans already sketched in his mind; it would be simple to implement them. After all, he knew more than any other of those smug Seniors just what might be done when one as knowledgeable as he combined innate power with this world’s own power. Oh yes. Rhaki slid into a deep, restorative sleep. No dreams or nightmares could worry such a Master as he.

  Chapter Thirty-Three