He woke with a start and sat bolt upright. Silver moonlight came in through the windows, illuminating the empowered lads’ cabin.
‘Lyxie…’ Sardeon moaned.
A wave of gift immanence rolled off him, engulfing Ronnyn, prickling across his skin. It seemed his choice-brother’s power had manifested but it didn’t trigger his own gift.
Sardeon’s breathing grew short and tight. He frowned and muttered under his breath. ‘Watch out. It’s coming. Watch –’
‘You’re having a nightmare, Sar,’ Ronnyn whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. ‘Wake up.’
But Sardeon didn’t wake.
Ronnyn cupped his cheek. Immediately, Sardeon’s nightmare engulfed Ronnyn. They were back on that beach. No, the beach dissolved into a formless plain of shadows, hillocks and prowling, sentient danger.
Terror engulfed Ronnyn. So cold…
He spun around.
Saw Sardeon. Really saw him for the first time. Without the distraction of his beauty, Ronnyn saw that his choice-brother was a blade: keen, sharp, driven and determined. He was so surprised that he forgot his fear.
Then he sensed something stalking them, creeping closer and preparing to pounce.
He ran, tackled Sardeon and…
They both woke, gasping with terror.
For a heartbeat, Sardeon stared at Ronnyn as though he was a stranger. Then recognition hit him and he shuddered so badly his teeth chattered.
‘You were having a bad dream,’ Ronnyn told him, rubbing Sardeon’s chest, over his racing heart, like his mother used to do. ‘Your gift dragged me into your dream.’
‘My gift?’ Sardeon brushed off his hand. ‘Don’t be cruel.’
Cruel? Ronnyn frowned. ‘I felt your gift, Sar. I would never lie to you.’
Still, his choice-brother didn’t believe him.
He caught Sardeon’s wrist, brought the tender skin to his face and opened his senses. ‘There… It’s still on your skin. See.’
For a moment it seemed his choice-brother would refuse to open his gift awareness; then he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they blazed with hope.
Ronnyn nodded, happy for him, despite his own disappointment. ‘You dragged me into your nightmare. In the first dream, I saw a T’En girl on the beach. She was in danger. Was it Lyronyxe? You called her Lyxie.’
‘I was dreaming of her,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll try to…’ He hugged his knees, then closed his eyes.
Ronnyn watched, and waited. He wanted Sardeon to reach for his gift and find it. He wanted it so badly…
He realised it was his own gift that he wanted to find.
Sardeon frowned in concentration and his knuckles went white. If sheer force of will could have made his gift rise, then it would have.
But Ronnyn could sense nothing. His heart sank.
Sardeon let his breath out in a long sign of resignation. ‘It won’t come when I summon it. I’m still useless.’
‘Don’t say that. It’s normal for the gift to rise and fall.’ Or it had been in his experience. Sardeon shook his head with such certainty that Ronnyn asked, ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
His choice-brother looked down.
‘There should be no secrets between shield-brothers.’
‘You’re right.’ Sardeon drew him out of the cabin and into the passage, where he turned to face him, his beautiful face stark with determination. ‘You need to know the truth if we are to be true friends. I’ve been lying to you since we first met.’
Ronnyn tensed. Some he knew what was coming.
‘It’s all very well for you,’ Sardeon told him. ‘Your gift was manifesting, back on the island, but I…’ He looked down and his perfect features became a mask.
‘You lost your gift,’ Ronnyn said.
‘Yes. How did you know?’ Sardeon asked, then didn’t wait for an answer. ‘The day Lyronyxe was killed, my gift suffered a flare-out when I followed her onto the higher plane. I haven’t felt even the smallest glimmer of power for nearly five years. When my gift went dormant, I stopped growing. I’m not turning thirteen like you. I’m already seventeen. I should be with my brotherhood.’
Ronnyn stared at him, stunned. To be trapped in the body of a twelve-year-old. He shuddered.
‘I sicken you,’ Sardeon whispered. ‘I don’t blame you. I sicken me. There have been times when I thought of taking the honourable –’
‘You don’t sicken me. Your predicament frightens me,’ Ronnyn admitted, ‘but tonight I felt your gift manifest, so –’
‘Then why can’t I call it? Our gift-tutor once praised my control. She was preparing me for empowerment. Now…’
‘Ask our choice-mother’s advice. Tell her tomorrow.’
‘Tell her that I’m a liability who can’t control his gift? What if it wasn’t a dream? What if I’d dragged you onto the higher plane? What –’ Sardeon broke off. ‘You said there were two dreams?’
Ronnyn nodded. ‘In the first one I was on the beach and I saw Lyronyxe. Then I woke up and you were having a nightmare. I touched your cheek to wake you, but your dream swamped me. We were –’
‘On a formless plane. I remember now. You came after me, Ronnyn…’ He raised shocked eyes. ‘We were on the empyrean plane.’
Ronnyn’s mouth went dry. ‘Are you sure? I thought you had to be empowered and trained to segue to the higher plane.’
‘With control, yes. But it can happen by accident. All it takes is a gift surge and you don’t need training. The day Lyronyxe died, I followed her, looking for her shade. Tonight…’ Sardeon clutched his arm. ‘I could have gotten us both killed.’
Ronnyn squeezed his hand. ‘But you didn’t. We came back safe and your gift has manifested.’
‘When I’m asleep and unable to control it. What good is a gift I can’t harness? It’s worse than no gift at all. At least if my gift was dead, I couldn’t be dragged onto the empyrean plane.’
‘You must tell our choice-mother.’
Sardeon pulled away from him.
‘Why not? She’ll be pleased.’
‘I have no control. She’ll be disappointed in me. I’ll tell her when I can…’ He succumbed to a jaw-cracking yawn and frowned. ‘Why am I so tired? I can hardly think.’
Ronnyn wasn’t surprised. The first few times his gift had surged beyond his control, he’d been exhausted afterwards. Come to think of it, he was tired now. That last dream had really taken it out of him. ‘Go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning.’
‘I’ve had nearly five years of mornings, and it hasn’t improved.’ But even as he said this, Sardeon yawned again. Somehow, he even managed to yawn elegantly.
Ronnyn slid an arm around his choice-brother and led him back to their bedrolls. ‘Go to sleep. I’ll wake you if you have a nightmare.’
‘Thank you.’ Sardeon tried to keep his eyes open. He frowned. ‘I don’t know why you’re such a good friend to me.’
‘You think too much.’
A weary smile tugged at Sardeon’s lips. His eyes shut and stayed that way, but he still fought sleep. ‘You’re a true friend. I tried to be a true friend to Lyronyxe, but I failed. Sometimes I dream that I saved her and we’re together, and I’m so happy. Then I wake up and it’s like I’ve lost her all over again. I don’t think I can live with the pain.’
‘Sleep,’ Ronnyn whispered, tears stinging his eyes.
‘I shouldn’t let you talk about your Malaunje sisters, but…’ – Sardeon’s voice was the merest thread – ‘at least you can still see them.’
Ronnyn lay beside his choice-brother, fighting the weariness until he was sure Sardeon slept. In time, he believed that Sardeon’s gift would rise to his conscious control. But a gift out of control was a dangerous thing.
He decided he would tell their choice-mother. At that moment, the exhaustion won and he let it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
DAWN FOUND TOBAZIM studying the sea-vermin sails. There were more of them. ‘But y
ou said they rarely attack en-masse.’
‘That’s right.’ Ardonyx accepted the spy-glass as Tobazim returned it. ‘And they prey on each other when pickings are slim. Why, there must be seven or eight who call themselves sea-kings. They don’t trust each other but…’
‘But?’ Tobazim prompted.
‘Every now and then they unite under a charismatic leader to claim a prize worthy of cooperation.’
‘And we’re that prize?’
Ardonyx nodded. ‘With their numbers, they’ll overrun us like a plague of rats.’
It was what Tobazim had feared. ‘Then they’ll attack before we can make Ivernia. What can we do?’
‘We’re already doing everything we can.’ Ardonyx gestured to the fleet. ‘Sailing in tight formation with the ships lit up at night and the decks patrolled by armed warriors.’ He lifted the spy-glass to study the sails, then lowered it, looking grim. ‘They’ve gained on us overnight.’
‘Can we outrun them?’
‘We can’t abandon the slow merchant ships, and sea-vermin ships are built for speed. Also’ – he gestured to the slack sails – ‘we’ve been plagued with poor winds since we set sail.’
AS SOON AS breakfast arrived, Ronnyn slipped out of the empowered lads’ cabin into the all-mother’s chamber. There he found the children eating their porridge. Vittor and Tamaron were delighted to see him and, after a moment, he wandered over to his choice-mother, who was feeding his baby brother.
She patted the bunk. ‘Come to make sure I’m looking after your brothers properly?
He flushed as he sat down. ‘I’ve come because I’m troubled. There’s something I should tell you, but it means betraying a confidence.’
When she met his eyes, he glanced to the hidden chamber, where they used to keep Sardeon.
The healer nodded her understanding. ‘You may speak freely. I won’t reveal it was you who told me.’
Sardeon would know it was him, but he had to betray Sardeon’s confidence, or betray his own judgement. ‘Last night, Sardeon’s gift manifested while he was asleep.’
‘Really?’ Delight illuminated her face. Then she sobered. ‘He told you everything?’
Ronnyn nodded, then frowned. ‘How can I know if he told me everything?’
‘Oh, Ronnyn…’ Reoden laughed softly, and kissed his forehead. ‘I’m so pleased. He trusts you. The causare brought him back from the higher plane, but you’ve brought him back to life.’
Ronnyn shrugged this aside. ‘Afterwards, he tried to call his gift, but he couldn’t. He said he didn’t want to tell you until he could control it. But I’m telling you now, because he drew us both onto the empyrean plane.’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?’
‘I was awake when it happened. We escaped this time, but what if…’ Ronnyn broke off as Sardeon opened the cabin door and spotted him with their choice-mother.
Furious, Sardeon picked his way through the children.
Heart pounding, Ronnyn came to his feet and waited for his choice-brother to join them.
Despite his anger, Sardeon gave his obeisance before speaking. Ronnyn found his control more unnerving than any outburst.
‘Choice-mother, I –’
‘Before you tear strips off Ronnyn, let me say this, Sardeon,’ Reoden said. ‘You should have come to me yourself. Gift-wright Ceriane spoke of just this possibility.’
‘She did?’
Their choice-mother nodded, then raised her voice. ‘Sarodyti, come here.’
The sisterhood’s gift-tutor picked her way through the children, who chattered on oblivious.
‘Sar’s gift has regenerated, but he can’t call it,’ Reoden said. ‘What do you think?’
‘He always had exceptional control,’ Sarodyti said. ‘That could be the problem.’
‘I’m not trying to stop myself calling my gift,’ Sardeon said. ‘I want it back.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ the gift-tutor agreed. ‘But until you forgive yourself for Lyronyxe’s death…’
Sardeon flinched.
Ronnyn saw the two adults share a look.
‘Don’t worry.’ The healer reached out to take Sardeon’s hand. ‘This is the first step in a long road. You were lucky to survive the empyrean plane that first time. You were only twelve, with no training.’
Sardeon shook his head, refusing to accept excuses. Ronnyn felt the force of his choice-brother’s will. The gift-tutor was right; Sardeon’s own will was what was stopping him.
‘Ronnyn tells me you segued to the higher plane in your sleep,’ Reoden said. ‘That’s dangerous, Sar. You must resume your lessons with Sarodyti.’
Reoden finished feeding baby Ashmyr and passed him to her devotee. After fastening her bodice, the healer came to her feet and bestowed a kiss on Sardeon’s forehead, then Ronnyn’s. ‘Now, you two go eat before the empowered lads clean up everything. With any luck, we’ll be holding a double empowerment, soon.’
Sardeon glanced to Ronnyn, who knew this was his chance to reveal the truth about his gift, but fear froze him. What if it had burned out?
He gave his obeisance. ‘Thank you, choice-mother.’
‘So formal, Ronnyn?’ Reoden laughed. ‘Sardeon must be rubbing off on you.’
His choice-brother closed his mouth and said nothing.
As they headed for the door, Ronnyn’s face burned. He hated lying, even if it was a lie of omission. He was almost at the door when Sarodyti called him, dismissing Sardeon.
Ronnyn worked his way back through the chattering children to rejoin the gift-tutor.
‘You’re a good boy, Ronnyn. Watch over Sardeon. He’s like a bow that’s been strung too tight. He could snap.’
Ronnyn nodded. ‘Can the gift die?’
‘We’ll cover gift lore when you begin training.’ Seeing his expression, she sighed. ‘If the T’En’s mind or heart becomes corrupted, the gift can corrupt.’
‘Can it wear out?’
‘With age.’ One of the children tripped and began to cry. Sarodyti made as if to go to him, but her shield-sister picked him up and consoled him.
‘Can it burn out?’ Ronnyn asked. ‘Like a fire?’
‘You’re describing a flare-out. That’s when the gift flares up and consumes itself. Sometimes the spark is entirely extinguished, and sometimes it regenerates.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose the empowered lads have told you that all-fathers sometimes punish a follower by draining his gift, then handing him over to his brothers for their use? Without his gift, he can’t resist theirs.’
He schooled his face to hide his surprise.
‘Don’t worry. These are extreme cases. We’re a civilised people, who live by a code of conduct. We aren’t beasts!’
The more she said, the more he worried. Without his gift, he’d be a victim.
‘We’ll cover all this and more when your gift manifests and you’re empowered. Off you go.’
He stumbled to the door, consumed with worry.
The night Aravelle and his mother were raped, he’d felt his power move across his skin like a thousand stinging ants. His gift had suffered a flare-out. He was useless. Crippled arm. Crippled gift.
‘Ronnyn?’ Sardeon’s hand settled on his shoulder.
He found himself standing in the passage.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sardeon asked.
‘Leave me alone.’ Ronnyn brushed past.
Sardeon came after him. ‘What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell our choice-mother about your gift?’
Frustration burned in Ronnyn. Back when he didn’t want his gift, it had surfaced and caused him no end of trouble.
Now…
Now he felt as if something precious had been stolen, before he could begin to truly explore it.
‘Tell me,’ Sardeon ordered. ‘I told you about Lyronyxe. I loved her, and seeing her die nearly killed me.’
Ronnyn swallowed and met his eyes. ‘My gift’s gone dormant. It hasn’t manifested since the night my sister and mother
were raped and I couldn’t save them.’
Sardeon went pale. ‘Your gift will regenerate. Mine did.’
‘After nearly five years!’
‘I was dragged onto the higher plane.’ Sardeon shuddered. ‘You’ll come good. Your gift will regenerate much sooner than mine.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ Ronnyn lifted his scarred arm between them. ‘I’ll be a cripple twice over!’
Sardeon’s mouth fell open.
Ronnyn turned and left, and this time it was a while before his choice-brother followed.
SORNE CAST A look over his shoulder, marking the position of the sun. He adjusted the rudder, feeling the blisters on his palms burst. The pain brought tears to his eyes. He’d been awake for three days with hardly any rest. Soon, he would have to sleep, but first, he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the Maygharian as possible.
He was never bored, never alone. The children took turns sitting with him. Two or three would keep him company, talking of their homes and how they looked forward to seeing their families again. Sometimes they just chattered, as children will, of small concerns, and he caught a glimpse of their world, where everything they had ever known had ended; yet they still looked forward, undaunted.
Tiasely sent Orza to him with a mug of hot water in which floated chunks of salted fish and carrot. They had plenty of carrots. He’d eaten them raw, over-cooked and under-cooked. Turned out Tiasely had been an apprentice seamstress. She had no idea how to cook.
The children were just happy to be free and eating something warm.
He thanked Orza and tucked the rudder under his arm, taking the mug in both hands. The bandages gave him some protection, but they were seeping. He should wash the burns before they turned bad. He should rest.
Later.
Right now he drank the lumpy soup – or runny stew, depending on which way you looked at it – and resumed his task, watching the sail, the direction of the wind, the state of the clouds, the size of the swells and the arc of the sun as it travelled through the sky.
A little later, Tiasely came out on deck, beaming. ‘Look what I found.’
‘Scissors?’
‘I’ve sharpened them as best I can.’ She saw he did not understand. ‘You look a fright. Your hair is all singed and you have no eyebrows left.’
Sanctuary Page 36
