The Fire Mages' Daughter

by Pauline M. Ross

  My eagle was restless. Normally she was affectionate and, I liked to think, happy to see me. Tonight she tossed her beautiful head as I mounted.

  “What is it, my lovely?” I murmured. “There, there! We will soon be soaring to the skies together.”

  She lifted her head and screeched, a raucous sound I’d never heard from her before.

  “Hush now. There, I’m ready. Up, my beauty. Take me to the Imperial City.”

  She rose with majestic wingbeats, and, as always, I thrilled as the Keep fell away beneath me. Then we were above the Imperial City, slumbering as always in its night-time gloom.

  Another screech.

  “Hush! Down, now. Take me down.”

  Instead, with slow flaps, she gained more height and even the Imperial City dropped away, the walls becoming a faint glimmer if I craned my head backwards.

  “What are you doing?” I cried, fear shooting through me. We were flying into darkness, the vast bulk of Candle Mountain surely directly ahead. But we must have cleared it, somehow, and then I could see nothing.

  The eagle screeched once more, and flew on into the night, taking me away from Kingswell and towards an unknown destination.

  15: The Castle

  I screamed and shouted, pleaded and sobbed. To no avail. I pushed thoughts and images into the eagle’s mind, but she only screeched, tossed her head and flew onwards. I slapped her and pulled her feathers, but she twisted her head and snapped at me. Eventually, I gave it up, and waited for her to take me wherever she would. I had no weapon I could use against her, so I was helpless to do otherwise. But fear knotted my gut. This was no random action by the eagle, there was a purposeful mind behind it.

  Ly-haam? Who else could it be?

  Dawn greyed the landscape, and then repainted it in a thousand shades of green. Here and there, a shimmering silver thread marked a river, but I saw no roads, no settlements, no towns. I struggled to match the rolling hills and sprawling forests below me with the neatly inked maps at Kingswell. One thing I could tell: the rising sun was directly behind me, so we were flying northwest, towards the Clanlands.

  The morning dragged on. I was used to flying, but not for such a long journey, and every muscle ached. I had another problem, too, but it took some graphic mental images before the eagle condescended to land for a few moments so I could relieve myself. When I was done, she poked me with her great beak, screeching angrily, until I remounted.

  Late in the morning, we came to a landmark I recognised: the High Citadel, and some distance beyond it the tiny square of the border fortress. We flew on, out of Bennamore lands, and over the valley with its lake where the trading village tents had stood. The village was gone, wiped out as if it had never existed, not a single clava remaining. In its place, the new army encampment, with sturdy square pavilions in tidy rows, Bennamorian flags snapping bravely. Clusters of men and wagons moved here and there, bustling about the business of an army at war, the perpetual effort of feeding and sheltering thousands of men and horses and their equipment.

  The eagle passed the encampment in moments, and then we crossed the lake, seeming small from this height. I gazed down at the island in the middle, the sacred island where clanfolk went through their coming of age ceremony with blood and mysticism. To me, it looked no different from any other island, the dense trees hiding its mysteries, although I caught a glimpse of a dark stone tower in a clearing. Then we were past it.

  There was more forest beyond the lake, but a very different sort. This was the impenetrable darkness of the black-bark trees, and to my surprise the eagle veered aside here, the first diversion in the whole journey. She flew along the edge of the forest, where rolling grasslands fell into a morass of jagged clefts and unexpectedly sharp-edged hills. Once or twice, a thin plume of smoke marked the destruction of a clava village.

  It would have been difficult country, even for horses, but a road cut spear-straight through it, with cuttings and bridges to smooth the way. The Imperial Road, it was called, just as the most ancient part of Kingswell was called the Imperial City, but there had never been an empire so far south, not this side of moonfall, anyway.

  Along the road, long trains of wagons toiled in lines like regimented ants as the army established its front line. The wagon drivers and escort riders were too far away for me to tell, but I imagined them looking up and exclaiming in surprise at the size of the bird flying overhead. Would they see me, perhaps, clinging to her back? Even if they could, impossible to know that I was one of them, taken against my will.

  But at least I had a fair idea now where I was being taken. If I looked into the eagle’s mind, I could detect other minds beyond. One was small and weak, her original master perhaps. But the other was familiar to me: Ly-haam, using his power to kidnap me. And we were at war, with all pretence of friendliness abandoned. What fate awaited me now?

  Eventually the black-bark forest thinned and then merged into lighter woodlands, until even those vanished. There below me was the army’s forward camp, already a large settlement of many hundreds of pavilions, the border ditch and earth bank dug, the first wooden buildings under construction. The last outpost of Bennamore, of any possibility of help. But the eagle flew serenely onwards, the bustle of the camp went on below me undisturbed and within moments it was behind us and gone. There was no help for me there.

  We passed over the low rocky outcrop with its cleft, which Zandara had described as a defensible pass. So far, I knew the landscape quite well from the maps. But now I was over a different country, one I had not studied so well. I set myself the task of looking for landmarks, but there were none. No mountains, no cliffs, no great rivers or lakes, just endless low hills, shallow, tree-studded valleys and scattered clusters of clava settlements, each one identical to its neighbours.

  But then a change. A lighter line on the horizon, which quickly resolved itself into a vast lake. An inland sea, in fact, dotted with a thousand islands, large and small. The heartland of the Blood Clans. The shores were dark with a mass of buildings, like clava, only larger and more solid. Further out, the lines and regular shapes of cultivated land. On the water, round wooden houses built on stilts, connected by narrow bridges. With waves ruffling round them, they seemed to drift on the water like untied boats. And then, to my surprise, a square stone building with crenellated walls like a fortress thrust itself upwards from a promontory.

  The eagle circled round, descending, and the mass of structures resolved itself into a sizeable town, the clava-shaped buildings made of wood, but with odd flaps and sails of skin, as if the owners couldn’t quite leave their traditional style behind. Between the promontory and a small pier, an open plaza was half filled with a crowd of people gazing up at our arrival. The eagle landed with a thump, almost tipping me off her back. Was that intentional, a final insult?

  I struggled to alight, my stiff legs making me clumsy. When I stumbled and had to grab the eagle’s feathers to keep myself from falling, I was angry with myself for my lack of dignity in front of these people. Then I was even more angry for caring what they thought. To calm myself, I slowly peeled off my gloves, riding coat, scarf.

  The first individual to coalesce from the crowd was Ly-haam, and here was another surprise. Instead of the plain worker’s clothes he’d always worn before, he was dressed in rich fabrics, layered and folded around him. It wasn’t a style I’d ever seen before, but I recognised the trappings of wealth when I saw them. Then I remembered the glimpse I’d had of rich furnishings and wine in crystal goblets.

  And he had the gall to smile at me. To smile!

  I’d believed unreservedly in him as the simple peasant boy, illiterate and ignorant, his people scratching a poor living from the land. It was all a lie, everything about him was a lie. It was the second time in less than a moon that a man I’d trusted had betrayed me with a great deceit, and I’d had enough of it. I wanted nothing more than to scratch his smug face, and wipe the complacency from it.

  Before he could say a
word, I advanced on him, fists clenched. “You devious, scheming little snot! It’s all a lie, isn’t it? Nothing about you is real, you lying bastard! And what do you think you’re doing, dragging me all the way out here? You tell your bird to take me back right now or you’ll have the entire Bennamorian army here before you can turn round. Don’t back away from me, you bastard!”

  The smile was wiped out, replaced by – was that fear? The brave leader of the Blood Clans was terrified of a mere girl. I almost reached him, but he jumped out of my range at the last minute, yelling at someone behind me. My arms were grabbed and yanked back, and I kicked and spat and swore at them in my rage. I landed a couple of solid punches, too, before they sent in the heavies. It took four of them to hold onto me, I was so mad at him.

  And all the while he was wailing, “No, no! Don’t hurt her! You mustn’t hurt her. She’s just upset.”

  Too right I was upset. Very observant of him.

  They got me down on my knees, and held me there. My curses turned to screams of pain as they twisted my arms behind my back. Someone fetched rope to tie me up. Then I was caught, like a piglet trussed up for market. They would have tied my feet, too, but Ly-haam wouldn’t allow it.

  The rope bit into my wrists and my shoulders were pulled tight, but as long as my mouth was free, I spat defiance at them. Somehow, all Cal’s most colourful curses rose effortlessly to my lips, although they were wasted on these savages who spoke no Bennamorian. I couldn’t see Ly-haam’s face, but I wondered how much he understood.

  Eventually, a rag was stuffed into my mouth to shut me up.

  “Princess…”

  I growled deep in my throat, the only sound I could make now.

  Someone yanked my head up by the hair and I screamed again, although muffled by the gag. Ly-haam was crouched down in front of me, his face a picture of sympathy. “You must not fight. You will be hurt, and no one wishes that.”

  Really? It wasn’t at all obvious.

  I was struck again by the richness of his clothes, so different from his appearance before. Only the amber necklace at his throat was familiar, nestling in the folds of a shirt edged with lace. He looked like a wealthy merchant’s son.

  “I am sorry to do this to you, Princess,” he said. “You must stay here for a while, I fear. Just until your Queen pays the price for your safe return.”

  That brought another growl of fury from me.

  He reached forward and gently pulled the gag out of my mouth. “Will you be calm now?”

  “Calm? How can you—?” But it was pointless, I realised. Anger and yelling would accomplish nothing. I had to try a different path. Logic was my friend. I took a deep gulp of air. “She will never pay a ransom for me, you know. She has other children, I am not important.”

  “Perhaps. But we do not want a ransom for you. We want your soldiers to go away.”

  He spoke with such fierce simplicity that I couldn’t decide whether to applaud his optimism or laugh at his folly.

  It was difficult to capture the proper tone when I was trussed up like a bird ready for the pot, but I tried to sound pitying. “Ly, the Drashona has invaded your country, and successfully taken what she wanted. She would be an utter fool if she abandoned that for one insignificant seventeen-year-old girl.”

  “Is that your age? I thought you older than that. And I do not believe you are insignificant, for did you not say that your soldiers would come for you? Perhaps they will, and you will be rescued.”

  He grinned at me, suddenly the boy with the perpetual smile again. His changes of mood were always so unsettling.

  In one smooth movement, he stood and whirled round towards a cluster of older men. “Take her to the castle, to the room with the great bed.”

  At once there was a rattle of dissenting voices. One woman was louder than the rest, or perhaps it was just that her voice was shrill. It rattled in my brain like a woodpecker.

  “No, Ly, you mustn’t! Not again, no. It’s forbidden, you know that. You must send her to the cage.”

  “Don’t tell me what I must do! I am the Chosen One, I decide where she goes. Take her to the castle.”

  A man spoke up, and then a couple more women, until there was a regular argument going on. I was tempted to join in, to add my vote for Ly’s room in the castle, which sounded more comfortable than the cage. But then I realised from the odd inflections that they were speaking their own language, and kept quiet. So long as they thought I couldn’t understand them, they would speak freely in front of me, and I could perhaps glean all sorts of useful information.

  I wondered why he allowed so much discussion of his decisions. I was used to the Drashona with her quiet manners, who nevertheless could terrify hardened soldiers with a glance or a single word. No one would dare to disobey her, or to question her orders, once given.

  Yet Ly was surrounded by angry voices, arguing forcefully with him. Was this normal here? Or was it Ly himself, whose personality was too weak for leadership, perhaps? Either way, there were possibilities there for me to exploit, in time.

  Ly was yelling now, summoning the older men, who took a few steps forward, oozing reluctance. After some more yelling, another few steps. Ly himself was pacing back and forth, back and forth, three steps towards me, then three away, over and over. His hands flapped as he neared me, half reaching out but seemingly trying to restrain himself.

  He was agitated, no doubt about it. I wondered why, but a quick look through the eagle into Ly’s mind told the story – he was boiling with overpowering desire again. My proximity had triggered the fires in him.

  A shudder ran through me. I was exhausted from the long flight and lack of food, I’d been set upon and forcibly bound and now I was to be a vessel for this man’s needs. It was too much. I’d gone along with it the previous times for political reasons, since we’d hoped to trade with the Blood Clans, and I had no other ties. Besides, I’d been curious about Ly and his people, about the strange connection between us.

  But right now it was more than I could bear. For one thing, I was still heart-sick at the loss of Arran. I’d had a lover, in the truest sense, for many moons now, and the prospect of becoming Ly-haam’s whore whenever it suited him sickened me. I couldn’t stomach the thought of it, coupling with this strange boy, being caught up in that maelstrom of intense emotion without any escape.

  Despite the argument, Ly’s henchmen roughly grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet, forcing a scream from me. “Shit, that hurts! Let go of me, you animals! Ow! Gods, that fucking hurts!”

  They couldn’t understand, of course. It was Ly who whimpered, hands clutching his head in distress. “Don’t hurt her! You mustn’t hurt her! Don’t drag her, she will walk… stop it, stop it! Oh, ancestors, you will break her arms!”

  They took no notice of him, either, half dragging and half carrying me along, while Ly dashed off in front, then back, then forwards again, like a demented fly. A trail of still-voluble protestors followed, out of my sight.

  Then I was bumped up stone steps, my shins banging painfully. I was thankful for my winter riding gear, chosen for its warmth while flying, but well-padded enough to protect me from too many bruises.

  More shouting from Ly-haam, and the gaggle of loud argument was left behind. Now it was just Ly and his men. There were only two holding me, and I wasn’t sure if there were more. Perhaps it was just those two. Time for an experiment.

  A sudden jerk and few wriggles revealed the truth: firstly, that two well-muscled men were more than adequate to restrain one girl untrained in the art of fighting. And secondly, that there were several more just like them padding along at the rear, ready to step into the fray whenever needed.

  They were grim-faced men, with something vicious about them. After my pathetic attempt to escape, one of them slapped me so hard I wasn’t sure where I was for a moment. My head spun round, and I tasted blood on my lip. Ly-haam moaned softly, and whispered, “Please, please don’t hurt her.” Then the dragging resumed, mor
e roughly than before.

  Another flight of steps, and then, mercifully, a door was thrown open and I was pushed, positively hurled into a great void, so that I ended up in a crumpled heap some distance from the door, my head thumping against a rug. For a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. My stomach heaved, and I could do nothing but lie still and wait until I felt better.

  As I huddled on the floor, there was yet another argument going on outside the door. I heard Ly’s anxious tones, and another, deeper voice, but I had no idea what they were saying. I didn’t much care.

  After a while, with an exclamation, boots stomped across the stone floor and a hand shoved me round and flipped me over onto my front. Terror flooded through me, but I was exhausted and helpless, and had no power to fight back. A few quick tugs on my bonds and the rope snapped. I was free! The boots stomped away again, the door slammed and a lock grated.

  Not free at all.

  16: The Villa

  Nor was I alone. Ly-haam was still pacing about, this way and that, back and forth, circling nearer to me, then away again.

  “Princess?” he whispered. “Are you all right?” But he didn’t wait to hear my answer.

  I took a deep breath. Pain washed through my limbs and chest, making me cough. I was going to be bruised all over, worse than when I’d fallen off my horse as a child. But I could move again. I struggled to sit up, then to kneel, and finally, with a huge effort, to stand.

  Once I was upright, with blood flowing through my limbs again now that the ropes had gone, I soon felt better. I wasn’t quite up to an escape plan, but I looked about me for possibilities all the same.

  My spirits quickly sank. It was not a promising room, despite its massive size. The walls, floor and ceiling were all stone, and the windows were barred. There was one double door, where Ly-haam prowled like a hungry lion, and several smaller doors – a bucket room, most likely, and some closets. The furniture was monstrous, huge and over-decorated, designed to fill the space rather than for comfort. Every available surface was laden with ornaments – vases, pots, mirrors, carved wooden stands whose purpose I couldn’t even guess. And right in the centre, dominating the room, the most enormous covered bed I’d ever seen, the posts carved with horrible gargoyles.