Dark Lightning

by Janet Woods

  ‘Winter is in the wind, Hal.’

  Hal gazed at the old man. ‘Aye, I can smell it, Grandfather.’

  ‘The time will come when you must take me home to the mountains. But first we shall go to Arles, and then to Karshal.’

  Hal felt a stab of unease. ‘We’ve travelled the world inside the inner rift since I can remember, and have explored it in every direction, bar two. I know its ways and byways like the back of my hand. Never before have you sought to take us to Arles or Karshal. Why now, when we’ve always avoided it?’

  ‘You’ll understand when we get there. You have much to learn about these cities, and about whom you can trust. We’ll spend a season in each city, and your eyes shall be opened. Then you’ll take me home to the mountains. There, you will learn certain arts, such as hand-to-hand combat. And you will embrace the skill of deep meditation. Then we shall part. Be patient, grandson.’

  Although not blood kin, Hal felt close to the old man. ‘I’m not eager for us to part. I’ll miss you.’

  ‘Only for a while.’

  Over the years Hal had learned not to question his grandfather, but more and more he questioned himself. Dismantling the tent he packed it in the cart with the rest of their household utensils, leaving a place for Orish to sit when he tired of walking.

  The flight between the shafts delicately stamped his forelegs. He quivered as Hal ran a hand gently over the ridges along his side. Either he’d been born without wings, or they’d been removed at birth. ‘You’re a beautiful creature, even if you’re second grade,’ Hal whispered, ‘I’ve heard there’s a museum in Arles where one of your ancestors is displayed in all his magnificence, with his wings out-stretched. You were known as landflights then. Ironic that they clipped the wings that allowed you to fly and shortened the name of your species to flight when you couldn’t. In the old days your ancestors used to carry the fighting lords and their forces on their backs, and up amongst the stars they’d go, where they would battle for supremacy. Now, wouldn’t that have been a grand existence and a wonderful sight.’

  The flight tossed its head up and down and its eyes gleamed.

  The old man laughed and held out the jade he’d just finished carving. ‘Stop giving Uffo ideas of grandeur.’

  ‘Uffo is grand.’ The animal’s glossy black flanks rippled when he touched the side ridges again. ‘I could almost swear he has wings folded away along his side.’

  Hal was subjected to a flat look. ‘Just make sure he doesn’t take off into the air when he’s still attached to the cart then, especially if I’m sitting in it at the time. Here, wear this, Hal. It will protect you.’

  Hal had never seen jade of such color before. One side of it was dark blue, like the depths of the ocean; the other was dappled turquoise, resembling sunlight on the shallows. Placing the charm against his eye he saw in its depths a peregrine, and he could swear the wings were moving as it hovered over a dark pool. He shivered as his palm closed around it. But its shape was warm and familiar against his hand and he knew the nature of it. At once he felt invincible, at one with the wind that rustled through the tall grasses of the plain.

  He gazed at his grandfather, who stood with his ear cocked to that same wind. ‘Who am I, Orish?’

  The old man chuckled. ‘You know who you are. It’s bred in your bones, your mind and your heart, and it’s written in your blood. Too much too soon will be bad for you, Hal. You will come to your own realization in time, know what you are and what is expected of you.’

  Hal had to be content with that. He had dreams, frightening dreams in which he heard the cries of a dying woman. He felt her pain, though she tried to mask it from him. Sometimes, he smelled blood in his nostrils and was jerked awake with a pain in his side, shivering with the shock of it, and crying out a name.

  There was a younger woman with blue eyes, a different pain inside her. He could feel her rage and her grief, barely contained behind a facade of calm. She contained it, fed on it, felt the need for revenge inside her, which went against her nature and her teachings. And in secret, she prayed to Bane to feed her rage.

  ‘We will know each other,’ she’d said, her voice as soft as the silken skirts of the women who danced on the fairground stage. And with a smile he remembered Arlene, who’d taught him the art of loving, and who’d allowed a young man his ease just for the delight it brought them both.

  A frown knotted his forehead. The dying woman’s name was on the edge of his mind, but it wouldn’t come to his tongue in the wakefulness of day. ‘Whose name do I cry out in my sleep?’ he murmured.

  ‘I hear no cry.’

  Always the same evasiveness, he thought. But Hal had learned a lot from Orish, the position of the stars and their relationship to the old Gods in the time before the rift was healed. He’d learned of the explosion that had torn the world asunder – one that the Grand Alchemist had accidently caused. Lord Kavan had collaborated with him to bring the rift together, to stave off complete disaster.

  ‘The world is still healing, Hal, yet the people still listen to the violence in their genes instead of the peace in their hearts. Lord Cynan rules by fear. Although the Karshal daughter manages to tame his excesses, he and his followers make a sport of the outlanders and anyone with watcher blood in them. He represented himself as an ambassador for peace, then slaughtered half the populace and allowed his soldiers to make sport with the women.’

  ‘Why did the Karshal daughter wed him?’

  ‘She had no choice at the time, since she was young, and not strong enough to defeat him. The alternative was death. If she’d died, the true-blood Karshal would have died with her.’

  ‘I have heard they have a son between them who is Karshal in his looks, but fleet of foot and as fierce as a hunting hawk, and that the power of the alchemist guides and protects him. It’s said he’ll be the best and wisest ruler yet.’

  ‘Where did you hear all this said?’ Orish asked, his lined face crinkling into a grin when he cackled with laughter. ‘I must be deaf as well as blind. You shouldn’t listen to marketplace gossip, especially when engaged between the sheets. You should keep your mind on the job at hand.’

  Hal grinned. ‘My mind is disengaged from my body at such times. Besides, you get to hear useful gossip from between the sheets prattle.’

  ‘Make sure you listen with your intuition and are not tempted to indulge in anything except the carnal. Be discreet, Hal. Some of these women are paid to pass on anything they hear, so be on your guard. It doesn’t take long for rumor to start, or for it to reach the ears of our rulers.’

  Hal snorted with laughter. ‘And what rumor about me would be of interest to anyone? That I travel with my grandfather, who makes jewelry, and I sharpen knives and do odd jobs for a living? I’m hardly a threat to Lord Cynan or his henchmen.’

  ‘You have extraordinary intelligence, that in itself might interest them. They dismantled the schools, burned the books and slaughtered the teachers.’

  ‘It’s said the Karshal princess is intelligent and learned. Why haven’t they killed her?’

  ‘The Karshal daughter uses her skills to keep herself alive. Her many charms have kept Lord Cynan by her side, but before too long Cynan will reap what he has sown in Azarine, for she has stayed alive for a purpose.’

  Azarine? Where had he heard the name before? ‘What is that purpose, Grandfather, and how do you know about it?’

  Orish looked troubled. ‘I’ve already said too much and you must never mention it again.’

  ‘You never say too much, only what you think I should know.’

  Orish answered with a small smile. ‘Come, let us be on our way. He set out across the plain towards the forest, his purposeful strides heading for the fork in the road that led to Arles. It wasn’t long before he slowed down and Hal caught him up.

  * * * *

  Azarine had just finished dressing for the evening feast in a gown the color of sunrise, when a servant brought a message from Cynan’s first wife
, asking for an audience.

  Surprised, for she rarely saw the woman, Azarine allowed her entry. Serica didn’t bow to her, as most women did, but then, why should she? Azarine thought. Serica was small and round, the expression on her face set and determined. She couldn’t keep the envy from her eyes when she took in the splendor of Azarine’s gown and the dark glistening fall of her hair.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,’ Serica said.

  ‘As the mother of Cynan’s daughter you have the right to be in the manor. I’m pleased to see you. Take a seat and tell me the purpose of your visit.’

  Serica looked mollified. ‘It’s Danea.’

  ‘Your daughter ... is there something wrong with her?’

  ‘I want you to take her under your protection. I thought she could serve you.’

  ‘But she’s Cynan’s daughter. Hasn’t he arranged a marriage for her?’

  ‘He shows very little interest in her. Despite her birth Danea is plain, awkward and clumsy. She's a lump, in fact. Those I’ve approached with sons have shown reluctance. Men tease her and the women laugh at her behind her back. Danea has no graces, and says she won’t wed unless someone loves her for herself. I despair of her.’

  Pity for the girl flowed through Azarine. ‘I’ll need Cynan’s permission.’

  ‘Aye, but he’ll do anything you ask,’ Serica said bitterly. ‘Some say you’ve enchanted him.’

  Azarine frowned as she warned, ‘It would be better for them, and for you, if Cynan didn’t hear them utter such a lie. If the girl is here with you fetch her in. I’ll see if we get on.’

  Serica nodded and headed for the door. She returned in a short while with a girl dressed in an ugly grey shift. Danea wasn’t as plain as people said, but her pale skin was scattered with a handful of freckles and her mouth drooped in discontent. She had a shapely body, and pale, straight eyebrows over dull brown eyes. Her reddish hair was fashioned into an untidy braid.

  ‘I understand you have no desire to wed, Danea.’

  ‘I’ve not met anyone I care enough for, or who even wanted to wed me,’ said the girl a trifle defiantly, and she darted a glance at her mother. ‘I see no reason to hasten into a marriage for the sake of convenience.’

  Serica scolded. ‘You’re ugly, and you do not attract men easily. If you’re too fussy you’ll never wed.’

  A flush crept under the girl’s fine skin. Azarine could almost feel the misery and turmoil her mother’s words had created in her.

  ‘There are things I want to do first, places I want to see. I want to learn, know the history of the past.’

  ‘Pah!’ Serica said. ‘Learning was never part of our way of life.’ A spiteful glance came Azarine’s way. ‘Only the Karshal dabble in the need to know. Look where it got them? In eighteen seasons, despite their intrigue, they have become the slaves of the Arles.’

  Biting her tongue, Azarine held up her hand before the words between mother and daughter developed into an argument. ‘Allow me to talk to Danea alone, Serica.’

  When Serica flounced off Azarine smiled at the girl. ‘Can you read?’

  There was a sudden sense of alarm about the girl, as if she’d pulled a cloak of caution around her. Azarine pushed it aside easily. ‘Come, you can trust me, Danea.’

  ‘Aye, I can read, lady. I was born with the ability and all these years have had to deny it. And I can calculate numbers and know of the stars in the sky, and can tell stories set to music.’

  ‘Then you’re talented indeed.’

  The girl could not hide her flare of joy at being praised. ‘Even though it’s against the law, I have a craving inside me to know more. When I was young I had a nurse who taught me these things. When my father learned of it he cut her tongue out and cast her into the desert to die.’

  Gently, she said, ‘But your nurse didn’t die, did she?’

  Danea hung her head. ‘No lady, she was found by a group of the followers of the Grand Alchemist and nursed back to health. She is with them still, and comes to me in my dreams. You’re the first person I’ve told. Please don’t tell my father.’

  ‘Your secret is safe with me. I’m honored by your confidence. Would you consider joining my household, Danea? I think we’ll get along, don’t you?’

  The girl nodded, then her eyes slid sideways and she began to cry. ‘You have been good to me Lady, and I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ll risk a beating and tell them you didn’t want me.’

  ‘Will you tell me why?’

  Danea stared at the scuffed boots she wore on her feet and whispered, ‘My mother and my uncle expect me to spy on you.’

  Azarine gave the girl a hug. ‘Did you think I didn’t know that the minute Serica walked in? I’m glad you’ve told me. It means you’re honest, and that I can trust you. I ask you for a second time. Will you join me?’

  A wide smile spread across the girl’s face and her eyes began to shine. ‘Yes, my lady, and I’ll never let you down.’

  Azarine took the girl’s hands in hers and exerted pressure with her thumb. A luminous blue glow appeared and disappeared.

  ‘What was that?’ the girl whispered.

  ‘It’s the recognition sign of true-bloods.’

  ‘I have read of them,’ Danea said, looking scared and excited all at the same time. ‘They carry the genes of––’

  Azarine placed a finger over her mouth. You must tell nobody of what you are.’

  ‘But I don’t understand. How can I be a true-blood, when my parents are not?’

  ‘The gene is selective. Now ... you cannot attend me at the feast in that gown. There’s a pale green one in my vanity room that will not clash with the one I’m wearing. Esbel will see to your toilette, but we must be quick.’

  ‘But madam.’

  ‘Enough ... you smell as if you’ve been tending the pigs. See to her, Esbel.’

  ‘What will my mother and say if I turn up to the feast in such finery? Besides, I usually sit behind her.’

  A cold smile touched Azarine’s mouth. I imagine your mother will be envious, but it matters not, since you’re employed in my household now. Hurry now, and Esbel, make sure her hair is washed for it’s such a pretty color.

  * * * *

  A little while later, Serica reported to Penn, ‘The Karshal woman has accepted Danea into her household.’

  ‘It’s about time Danea made herself useful,’ Penn said. ‘Azarine was considering taking Helise in. She still might. Cynan was thinking of choosing her as a wife for Laek.’

  ‘The girl is wayward.’

  Penn smiled. ‘Yes ... I’m counting on it. It’s not dignified for my brother to be under the spell of the Karshal princess. We need a woman who can distract him.’

  Chapter Five

  Several sub cycles later the recruits on the Isle of Soran presented themselves to their instructors for combat training.

  One of the commanders walked along the line, scrutinizing them carefully and pinching their skin for signs of dehydration. A number of the recruits were a sorry-looking sight, their cheeks and stomachs hollowed with hunger, hair dirty and matted. Their instructor pulled them out of the ranks. ‘You need to be restored.’

  ‘What about the food we were promised,’ the plump youth said, though he didn’t seem quite as good-tempered as he’d been on the boat. His group was made up of three lads smaller than himself, all of whom were in the group of the underfed. They all had a variety of bruises.

  ‘Like I said when you stepped ashore, Desii, the island is self-sufficient. It’s obvious you can fend for yourself, though your companions look as though a good meal wouldn’t go astray.’

  ‘They were lazy and didn’t find enough food for all of us.’

  ‘I see.’ The instructor grunted as he moved on to Laek’s group. ‘You look as though you’re doing well.’

  ‘Aye, sir. We have everything we need, and more. We’re willing to share what we have with others.’

  ‘The weak must learn to f
end for themselves, or perish.’

  ‘Why should the weak perish when they could survive if they were helped by those with more than a fair share? They should be nourished and taught survival skills.’

  ‘Ah, we have an expert in our midst, I see.’

  The instructors grinned at one another, then the second one said, ‘Your Karshal blood is rising to the top, Prince of Arles. A soldier must be tough to survive. Your father would tolerate no weakness amongst his troops.’

  ‘Or show any mercy,’ the other murmured. He smiled at him. ‘Compassion is not such a bad trait to have under certain circumstances and we must remember your youth before we judge your mettle as a man.’

  ‘But we’re not at war. As for my father, he displayed mercy towards my mother and her servant and allowed them both to live.’

  ‘He admired her courage. Desire for a woman is a different matter altogether. Lord Cynan is a conqueror, not a defender. He was entitled to your mother as the spoils of war. He did her great honor in taking her for a wife instead of killing her with the rest of her family, though there are some who say she enchanted him.’

  ‘If you value your life I’d suggest that you do not say such a thing within my father’s hearing.’

  ‘And what about in your hearing ... will you not defend your mother.’

  ‘With my life, Commander, but not until I’m able to defend her with skill and honor, and with a cool head.’

  ‘You’re wise Prince of Arles. Your father will want his troops kept well trained and ready for battle, and he will expect your skills to be exceptional.’

  ‘He’s already conquered Karshal, and the mountains of the great rift are impassable. Those sent there have never returned, and it’s believed that they’ve perished in the fires ... or by other means. What is there left to conquer, Commander?’