by Den Patrick
‘Hoy there!’ shouted Kjellrunn with far more bravery than she felt. The men stopped and Eivind wrestled himself free and ran to Kjellrunn. ‘What the Hel is going on here?’
The men conversed among themselves and smiled, then turned on Kjellrunn and the novice, clearly intending to drag them out of the temple. Other novices emerged from doorways in the temple. Kjellrunn could sense they were drawing on the arcane in preparation. All of them had been restless and full of fearful energy since the street fight in Virag.
‘What are you doing?’ said Kjellrunn, drawing herself up and staring down her nose as best as she could. The men paused and one gave a long whistle with his fingers. Three more men appeared through the temple door. One had drawn his sword.
‘They’re slavers, halfhead,’ said Trine, appearing at Kjellrunn’s side. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ The dark-haired girl curled her lip and spat at the feet of the nearest man. His eyes widened in disbelief that quickly turned to anger. The slaver drew his arm back to strike her but Kjellrunn stepped forward, placing herself between the fire-breathing novice and the man
‘Wait!’ she said, holding up her hands. To her surprise the man lowered his fist. Maxim appeared beside her and spoke in his mother’s tongue, low and quiet. The man answered him with a cruel smile and the rest of his crew laughed bitterly.
‘Tell him I am an initiate of Frejna,’ said Kjellrunn. ‘And you are all in my care.’
‘Tell him I’m going to burn his face off,’ said Trine.
‘I’m not going to do that,’ said Maxim to Trine over his shoulder. He looked up at the slaver and spoke calmly. The man replied and Maxim’s expression changed to one of dismay.
‘He said he has no time for old goddesses and will happily shit on the altar once he’s sold all of us.’
The man drew his sword and Maxim flinched backwards. In the space of a heartbeat Kjellrunn was back in the woods of Nordvlast, floating above the ground as the corpses of twelve Okhrana spun and swirled about her, caught up in a vortex of her pain and hatred.
Pain.
It flared across her shoulder as the sword bit deep and Kjellrunn fell to the tiled floor, shocked at the bright blood staining her shirt. A bright flare of fire illuminated the dim interior of the temple as Trine exhaled her arcane power. The slaver’s leader screamed in agony and ran into the street, hair ablaze and features scorched. Other slavers raced forward to cut Trine down, only to find Sundra stood before them. The priestess pulled the girl behind her and a slaver raised his sword for a killing blow, but Sundra’s eyes had changed colour. The man gave a shocked gasp and his skin was riddled with streaks of grey before his pace slowed as he turned to stone altogether.
‘Leave my temple this instant!’ said Sundra to the remaining slavers. And for once no translation was necessary.
Kjellrunn bit her lip so hard it almost bled as Mistress Kamalov sewed up the cut on her shoulder. The old woman said nothing, but her silence was rebuke enough. Maxim held her hand as the renegade Vigilant went about her grisly work. Sundra waited outside of Mistress Kamalov’s room wringing her hands and occasionally shooing away the novices who came to see the gory spectacle.
‘Good. I am finished with you,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘Keep it clean and get some rest.’ Kjellrunn stood up and dared to look at the wound. ‘All that training we did in Nordvlast.’ Mistress Kamalov shook her head as she put away the needle and thread. ‘Why did I waste my time?’
Kjellrunn left the room with head bowed and rounded shoulders. The novices watched her go, whispering as she passed while Trine waited at the temple door. She leaned against the wall and stared out into the street as if her expression alone would deter further troublemakers. The raven-haired girl called after Kjellrunn as she descended the temple steps.
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
Kjellrunn paused and looked over her wounded shoulder and felt a pang of irritation.
‘Thank you for what?’
‘Burning the man who cut you, halfhead. It’s clear you’re too stupid to defend yourself.’
‘I was hoping we could avoid anyone getting hurt. There’s nothing stupid about that.’
Trine flipped the sign of the four powers and Kjellrunn continued into town, keen to be away from the temple, though the heat made her feel faint with the effort of walking.
The docks of Dos Khor were a humble affair, more concerned with fishing than commerce. A few rickety wooden piers reached out into the sea like ancient fingers but Kjellrunn headed north, wanting to avoid the fishermen and a language she couldn’t speak. The beach was dominated by the sculpture of a hand that rose up out of the sand. The white stone palm faced the Shimmer Sea as if it might command the tides to halt in their endless ebb and flow. Kjellrunn let out a long sigh and let herself cry for a moment; her shoulder throbbed with pain. The water was a breathtaking azure and the sunlight dappled the waves like the promise of gold. Someone cleared their throat behind her and Kjellrunn turned to find Sundra standing a few feet away, looking out to sea.
‘This is so different to Cinderfell,’ she said. ‘It’s desolate, but beautiful in its way.’
‘Shanisrond and Cinderfell have much in common,’ said Sundra, drawing closer. ‘Neither are particularly kind or accommodating.’
‘I miss the forests of the north, but that’s all I miss.’ A moment of quiet companionship lingered between them and the gulls called out in the distance as the quiet hush of waves on sand filled their senses.
‘Maxim told me you introduced yourself to the slavers as an initiate of Frejna.’
Kjellrunn nodded. ‘Was I wrong to do so?’
‘No, no. Far from it.’ The old woman smiled. ‘It makes me proud that someone would introduce themselves so.’
‘Shall we sit?’ said Kjellrunn, unsure how to behave in her new role.
‘If I get down I may not get back up again.’ Sundra made a face. ‘And I hate sand.’
Kjellrunn stood beside the high priestess and they looked out to sea, feeling small in contrast to the vast white clouds that drifted across the sky in the distance.
‘It is good that you tried to defend the children,’ said Sundra. ‘But words alone are not sufficient in such dangerous times. Why did you not call on your gifts?’
‘I’ve killed before.’ Kjellrunn released a shaky breath. ‘In Cinderfell. And not just a single person but a dozen of them.’
‘It is unfortunate,’ said Sundra. ‘But it is also necessary. As a servant of Frejna we watch, we wait, and sometimes we act.’
‘When I killed …’ Kjellrunn tried to breathe but every word was a struggle. ‘It was so easy. It was too easy. I plucked the people off the ground, along with the rocks and old branches of the woodland, and I spun them, faster and faster until everything and everyone was broken.’
‘Mistress Kamalov mentioned you had great power, Kjellrunn. She also told me you killed Okhrana to protect yourself. There is no shame in this.’
‘No shame?’ Kjellrunn blinked away fresh tears. ‘But I feel it every day and every night. I see those men in my dreams. I see myself caught up in an irresistible power. Did Mistress Kamalov tell you I nearly killed her?’ Kjellrunn gave a bitter laugh. ‘She doesn’t know because she was unconscious at the time. I nearly destroyed the cottage she was living in.’
‘You were young,’ said Sundra softly. ‘You are young. And you are untested.’
‘I think I was tested enough that day. No one should be able to kill so many people so quickly.’
‘So this is why you hesitate to use your gifts.’
Kjellrunn nodded and to her surprise the severe Spriggani woman pulled her close and hugged her. ‘You are much too young for such burdens. I am sorry, Kjellrunn.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kimi
‘I’ve waited so long for this,’ said Kimi in her mother tongue, though in truth the breathless excitement she felt was almost as bad as the pangs of dread in her stomach. The Watcher’s Wait ap
proached the west coast of Yamal, the ship rocking gently beneath them as mile by mile they drew closer. The sun blazed high in the pale blue sky, warming their faces. Marozvolk stood next to her at the burned prow and said nothing, one hand gripping the hilt of the sword where it rested in its scabbard.
‘I never thought I’d see Yamal again,’ said the renegade Vigilant.
‘What I said before, back in Virag.’ Kimi sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I was frustrated, angry. I can’t imagine what it was like for you to be indoctrinated into the Holy Synod, or fed all those lies about the Empire.’
‘All my life I had wanted to do something to bring honour or glory to my family, my country.’ Marozvolk’s face creased in anguish. ‘But I found myself being drawn further and further into the Empire’s embrace.’ She looked away a moment, overcome by painful memories.
‘What is like?’ asked Kimi. ‘To be part of the Empire, I mean?’
‘It’s to live in fear. Fear is the flesh and blood of the Empire at every level.’ Marozvolk’s gaze had a faraway quality to it, deep in memory and thought. ‘Everyone fears the Emperor, of course. Even his own trusted coterie, the Envoys, the generals and the nobles. That fear reaches right down to the lowliest rank of soldier and novice, and is used to stifle even the idea of dissent in the regular folk.’
They stood together in silence as the ship edged closer to the mainland. ‘Do you know what you’ll say to him?’ said Romola, joining them at the prow for the view. She’d sat up long into the night with Kimi. They’d discussed how a princess might reintroduce herself to a father who was complicit in her imprisonment. None of the options looked attractive.
‘He was never a particularly even-tempered man,’ said Kimi. ‘And that didn’t improve when my mother died.’ Marozvolk frowned into the distance while Romola took a sip from a metal hip flask. The silence, like the humidity, grew stifling.
‘You know, I’ve been coming here for over a decade,’ said Romola, ‘and I still don’t know where the capital city is. That’s strange, right?’
‘That was a deft way to change the subject,’ replied Kimi with a smile. ‘The capital city is wherever the Xhan, I mean the king, chooses it to be. We’re nomads for the most part, though the ports are permanent settlements.’
‘That makes sense.’ Romola offered her flask to the two women but both declined. ‘I’m going to have a word with my navigator. We have to sail up river a way before we can weigh anchor.’ She looked over her shoulder at the crew who had already busied themselves. ‘Let me know if you need anything, all right?’
‘She has a point,’ said Marozvolk after the captain had left. ‘Yamal is a big place and the Xhantsulgarat could be anywhere.’
‘It’ll be near one of the lakes and close to a forest,’ said Kimi. ‘There’s much that’s unpredictable about the Xhan, but he loves trees almost as much as he loves fresh water.’ She smiled. ‘Xhantsulgarat. I haven’t heard that word for years.’
Romola guided the Watcher’s Wait into the mouth of the river Bestnulim, which divided Yamal from the swamps, mists and forests of Izhoria in the north.
‘This is as far as we go,’ said Romola. ‘I’m going to be taking on supplies from this port town here, and seeing if I can pick up some work.’
‘The town is called Bestam,’ said Kimi. ‘And thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ said Romola. ‘My crew have plenty of Imperial gold in their pockets, right.’ The captain gave her a look, as if sizing her up. ‘How are you for money?’
Kimi frowned.
‘You’re a Yamali princess, right? You could be running this country one day. Think of this as early tribute.’ Romola dropped some coins into Kimi’s hand. To her surprise they were Yamal Shüd, the currency of her people. Kimi laughed.
‘What?’ said Romola. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘I haven’t seen one of these in years!’ She looked at the coins and laughed, then embraced the captain tightly.
‘Marozvolk is waiting for you in the boat with Tief and Taiga.’ Romola looked over the edge of the ship. ‘Quite the crew you’ve got yourself. My people will row you ashore. Are you ready?’
Kimi nodded. ‘Look for me in a year’s time. If I’m not here, then I’m probably dead.’
‘Well, that’s easy then. Don’t get dead, right?’ Romola grinned. ‘Farewell, Your Highness.’
Kimi clambered down a rope ladder that hung against the side of the ship to the boat that waited below. The only seat left was beside Marozvolk. Kimi wanted to offer her some words of encouragement or consolation, but the renegade Vigilant fixed her gaze on the shoreline.
‘Good to be on dry land again,’ said Tief, who sat across from Kimi. Taiga forced a smile.
‘Let’s see what surprises Yamal has for us,’ said Kimi.
Kimi wasted no time once they were ashore, gaining an audience with the headsman of Bestam just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The settlement was bathed in soft red light as they waited outside a grand-looking tent. The outside was made of countless goat skins, all neatly sewn together. An old tree branch had been pressed into service as a banner pole and a long rectangle of cream fabric fluttered in the breeze. There was no design on the banner save for two blue chevrons pointing downward.
Kimi looked around, still not quite able to believe she was home. The headsman exited his tent and looked over the four of them with a curious gaze. He was taller than Kimi, with a shaven head and pale scars on his dark skin, his craggy face unreadable. A hoop of gold pierced his eyebrow and a great many copper bangles hung from his wrists.
‘Darga Bestam,’ said Kimi in her mother tongue. She bowed her head and clasped her right fist in her left hand. The big man smiled.
‘We’re not so formal this far north, my child. You may call me Chulu-Agakh.’
‘With respect, I’m not a child.’
‘My youngest daughter is about your age,’ said Chulu-Agakh. ‘You have twenty summers unless my eyes are fading.’
‘Your eyes serve you well.’
‘Then you’re still a child,’ he replied. ‘At least to an old man like me.’ Kimi found his words warm rather than condescending and felt a moment of deep contentment. Being back among her people, speaking her own tongue, was nothing short of extraordinary. ‘Will you come in for some tea?’ He paused a moment to look at Tief and Taiga. ‘Strange that you have Spriggani with you. I had thought the Empire destroyed all of them.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Tief, frustrated at being unable to understand the exchange.
‘He’s invited us in for tea,’ said Kimi.
‘I don’t like it when I can’t work out what people are saying,’ grumbled Tief.
‘You don’t often like it when you can understand what people are saying,’ said Taiga. Marozvolk snorted a laugh despite wanting to keep a straight face in front of the headsman, and Tief shot her a dark look.
The inside of the tent featured a fire pit at the centre and rugs at the edge of the circle. A soldier stood inside the opening, cleaning his nails with a strange knife. One by one they handed over their weapons and Chulu-Agakh was already pouring tea into small porcelain bowls as they took their places.
‘Now let me try to guess,’ said the Darga of Bestam once they were all seated. ‘Could it be you have come to join the tribe by Ereg Bestnulim? Or perhaps you have a dispute with one of my people? Or are you a long-lost relative, come back from abroad?’
‘I am the latter, but not a relative of yours,’ said Kimi. ‘I come asking for information. I am keen to find the Xhantsulgarat.’
‘Ah, a lowly Darga is not a worthy enough audience,’ replied Chulu-Agakh, raising his eyebrows at Marozvolk. Kimi couldn’t be quite sure who he was mocking.
‘You are a fine audience and serve fine tea, Darga Bestam.’ Kimi inclined her head respectfully. ‘But I have business at the Xhantsulgarat.’
‘Is there any chance you two can speak in Solska,’ said Tief quietly. ‘I’m g
etting pissed off with not understanding what’s going on.’
‘Your Spriggani friend is unhappy?’ asked Chulu-Agakh.
‘He is keen to know what we speak of,’ replied Kimi in her mother tongue. She turned to Tief. ‘A Darga would never learn Solska. It is a low thing and brings dishonour to sully one’s mouth with the language of our enemy.’
‘You’ve never had a problem speaking it,’ muttered Tief. ‘And you’re a princess.’ Kimi frowned at him and the Darga gave a deep chuckle.
‘You are correct,’ said Chulu-Agakh in his mother tongue. ‘I hate to sully my mouth to speak Solska, but I do understand it.’
‘Oh,’ said Kimi. Chulu-Agakh sipped his tea and smiled as if this were just another meeting.
‘So you are a Yamali princess making your way to the Xhantsulgarat after spending time abroad?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have told you who I was when we first met, but I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me.’ Kimi forced a smile. ‘I’ve been gone for such a long time.’
A moment of realisation passed as Chulu-Agakh’s eyes widened with the full import of her words.
‘And not just any Yamali princess, but the daughter of the Xhan himself.’
Kimi nodded and felt herself blush as Chulu-Agakh shuffled around until he was on his knees, then pressed his forehead to the ground.
‘I didn’t think you were so formal this far north,’ said Kimi. It was a strange feeling to have someone bow to her after all this time.
‘We are not barbarians, Your Highness. And I have never had a princess in my tent before.’
Kimi sighed, glad to be rid of the secrecy. ‘What can you tell me of the Xhantsulgarat and my father?’
Chulu-Agakh took an uneasy breath and Kimi knew in her bones she was about to receive bad news. ‘You’ve been away a long time,’ he said. ‘Much has changed.’
