Warrior of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Perhaps there’s a clue in the name. Only crazy people want to go there.’

  Kastara stuck out her tongue.

  ‘You’re scared.’

  Findar shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the island.

  ‘I just don’t think Zastra would warn us off for no reason.’

  ‘You always take her side.’

  ‘It’s you that splits everything into sides. Each one wrong, except yours.’

  ‘You don’t have to be scared. We can protect ourselves with mindweaving.’

  ‘Kas, we know as little about mindweaving as we do about sailing. We’ve been training for less than a year and I still don’t understand what I’m doing most of the time. Don’t pretend you’re any different. Unless you’ve figured out that bubble thing yet?’

  Kastara chewed her lip. Ever since she and Findar had reached the age where their powers started to appear, they had joined the other young mindweavers to take lessons. They had learned simple mind-reading and some basic controlling techniques, but Findar was right, there was still so much they didn’t know. A few days ago, Gildarn, their teacher, had projected an image into their heads in order to scare them. The idea, he explained later, was that fear could shock the mind into revealing latent mindmoving powers. Kastara had felt something that she could best explain as a bubble burst out of her chest and expand as far as the tips of her fingers before it vanished. Nobody else had seen it, and Gildarn couldn’t tell her what it was. Yet somehow, Kastara knew it was important. She had experienced a similar feeling once before, when she had taken the forbidden drug cintara bark. Cintara bark was supposed to increase the chances of being a mindmover, but too much could send you insane. Some of Kastara’s older classmates had been rescued from Thorlberd’s mindweavers, who had drugged them with so much cintara bark they still had cravings, even though it was years since they had been brought to Uden’s Teeth.

  ‘Just get us there, will you?’ she muttered.

  Findar closed on the low-lying island, fighting against an outgoing tide. He wondered why he kept letting Kastara lead him into trouble. He would try to argue her out of her crazy schemes but she bent him to her will in the end, usually because he knew that she’d only go off on her own. At least if he joined her, he could try to protect her. The hull scraped against something hard.

  ‘Careful!’ Kastara cried.

  ‘Oh, so now you want to be careful?’

  A rock rose in front of them, teeming with mussels, their damp black shells glistening in the sunlight. Findar swung the tiller, trying to find a gap in the rocks, but the tide and the wind worked treacherously together to spin them sideways. They ended up trapped between two reefs.

  ‘Close enough,’ said Kastara. ‘We’ll have to swim.’ She pulled off her boots, flung off her jacket and jumped overboard. He heard her laugh. She was standing. The water only reached her stomach.

  ‘It’s shallow enough to walk. Come on.’

  Findar tethered the yacht to the nearest rock, eased himself overboard and followed his sister. A sandy beach led up to a flat shelf of rock that warmed the soles of his bare feet. The shelf rose gradually and they were soon at the top. A flock of gulls circled above their heads, as if assessing the new arrivals.

  ‘It looks pretty dull,’ Findar remarked. He reckoned the island was no larger than Fivepeaks village, where he had spent time as a young boy.

  Kastara crouched down to examine the ground.

  ‘That’s weird.’

  Small shrubs with waxy leaves dotted the landscape, growing out from gaps in the rock. Every so often, there was a big dent, as if one of the shrubs had been torn out. Findar took a handful of the sandy soil, letting it trickle through his fingers. Fragments of root were left behind, their ends frayed and twisted. The shrubs had been torn away. He bit into one of the leaves and quickly spat it out.

  ‘Ugh. Whatever dug up these shrubs can’t have been eating them.’

  He scanned the island. Except for the gulls, nothing moved. Glancing back toward the yacht, he noticed the tide was still going out and their little craft was wedged on top of a reef. They were trapped until the tide returned. Yet something had been busy tearing up these plants. They were not alone.

  Chapter Four

  The island was almost twice as long as it was wide. The stone plateau rose gradually towards the northernmost half of the island, where it broke up into large boulders. It was the only part of the island that looked as if it could possibly hide something. Kastara strode towards the boulders and Findar followed. The gulls circled lower. He sensed they were trying to warn them.

  Danger! they seemed to cry. He looked up as a large gull dived towards him, bobbing its head.

  Danger. Storm of pain.

  Findar stopped dead. If it hadn’t been so ridiculous, he could have sworn he was reading the gull’s thoughts.

  ‘Kas,’ he murmured. ‘I think we should leave.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. We only just got here.’ She continued forward. They reached a narrow fissure in the rocky ground. As Findar peered into it, the squawking grew louder.

  Danger! Flee! Flee!

  Something moved in the shadows. A moment later, a wild-haired young woman with dark skin gaped up at them from inside the fissure, squinting into the light. Findar held out his hands in a gesture he hoped was friendly.

  ‘Who are you?’ Kastara asked sharply. Findar dug his elbow into his sister’s ribs as the woman shrank back in alarm.

  ‘We mean you no harm…’ he began, but the woman started to pound her fists against the side of her head.

  ‘I told them to leave me alone!’ she wailed. ‘Spies and mindweavers. Why won’t they leave me alone?’

  The screeching of the gulls rose to such a pitch that Findar felt as if his eardrums were being scraped with a metal fork. If only the birds would quiet down, so I can think. The screeching ceased instantly. Findar felt a jolt of surprise. Did I do that? The woman squinted suspiciously at the now silent gulls.

  ‘How did you get here?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘A boat, of course,’ said Kastara. The woman tore at her crinkly hair.

  ‘That’s bad,’ she moaned. ‘They should have warned you. Too late now. Too late.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Findar caught a flicker of movement near the mussel beds. He turned to see their yacht collapse in on itself, as if the hand of an unseen giant had crushed it. The mast snapped in half, and fragments of wood began to dance in the air. The gulls began to screech again. Findar could sense their fear, merging with his own and he almost threw up. Storm of pain! Storm of pain! The gulls wheeled away and flew rapidly out to sea as the whirlwind of wood began to edge towards them.

  ‘It’s her, it must be,’ Kastara cried. The woman continued to beat herself, moaning in obvious distress.

  ‘We’re sorry!’ said Findar. ‘We didn’t mean to upset you.’

  But the young woman didn’t, or wouldn’t, hear him. The deadly whirlwind spun towards them, sucking up the largest of the plants as it swept up the beach. Anything with a woody stem was added to the tornado. Findar felt Kastara grip his arm and pull him backwards, but there was nowhere to hide.

  ‘I’m sorry I got you into this mess,’ she said. He shrugged.

  ‘I chose to come, didn’t I?’

  They both tensed, waiting for the impact. Splinters of wood swirled around them in a blur of movement, but they remained unharmed.

  ‘Kas…’

  ‘Shh, I’m concentrating,’ his sister whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. ‘My bubble – it’s protecting us somehow, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up.’

  ‘Orika! Stop!’ Through the blur of splinters, Findar saw a figure running up from the beach. Zastra, wearing only a vest and undershorts and for some reason dripping wet.

  ‘Stay back!’ he cried, but Zastra ran right at the crazy woman. Why did his sisters never listen to him? Zastra took hold of the young woman’s wrists, gently prising th
em apart to prevent her from pounding her own head.

  ‘Orika, please, they are my family. Don’t hurt them.’

  The woman sank her head into Zastra’s chest. The torn shrubs and fragments of yacht sank to the ground.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Orika sobbed. Zastra glared at Kastara and Findar over Orika’s shoulder, looking as angry as Findar had ever seen her.

  ‘This was not your fault, Orika. It is others who need to apologise.’

  Kastara folded her arms. ‘She nearly killed us. If my bubble hadn’t turned out to be a shield…’

  Findar eased himself down into the fissure.

  ‘I’m sorry we scared you, Orika,’ he said. ‘Please forgive us.’

  After another glare from Zastra, Kastara, too, muttered an apology. Zastra sent them back to the beach while she spoke to Orika. She was so long that the tide had come back in by the time she joined them.

  ‘What was that about?’ Kastara asked.

  ‘Orika was only a child when she was force-fed cintara bark by Thorlberd’s mindweavers. She can mindmove wood but cannot control it. That is why she asks to live alone, a request most of us are happy to grant.’

  ‘She must get lonely,’ Findar said quietly.

  ‘How does she do it?’ Kastara asked eagerly. ‘The mindmoving? Can I ask her about it?’

  ‘No, you cannot.’

  Zastra strode towards the surf.

  ‘Where’s your boat?’ asked Findar. Beyond the surf he made out two orange blobs. The sails of a distant lugger. There was no other craft in sight.

  ‘You’ve seen what happens to anything made of wood on this island,’ said Zastra. ‘Gildarn is keeping a safe distance.’

  ‘You can’t possibly mean for us to swim all that way?’ Kastara protested as Zastra waded into the water.

  ‘Think of it as training. You’ll need to be fit for all the extra chores you’ll be doing. From now on, you’ll both be far too busy to get into any more trouble.’

  Chapter Five

  Zastra deposited an armful of chopped wood on Dobery’s hearth.

  ‘Haven’t you got better things to do than be my serving girl?’ Dobery asked testily. ‘What would Pitwyn say?’

  ‘Something very long-winded, no doubt. You could always ask him to assign someone to help. I know he’s offered.’

  The old mindweaver flapped an age-spotted hand.

  ‘And have that nincompoop bowing and curtseying at me all the time? No thanks. Besides, Morvain is more than capable, he just doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.’

  The overcrowding on the island meant Dobery had been forced to share his cabin with Morvain and Gildarn. Zastra suspected he was not happy about it.

  ‘You’re growing crotchety.’

  He raised thick grey eyebrows from which white hairs poked out like sprouting grasses.

  ‘And why not? It’s one of the few perks of getting old.’

  Zastra dragged a milking stool across the floor and placed it by his feet. As she related what had happened at the council meeting, her head sank into her hands.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Dobery.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve really grown into leadership these last few years. It suits you. Your instincts are good and you are not afraid to make decisions. Bringing together Sendorans, Golmeirans and Far islanders is quite a feat. On top of that, you persuaded a Kyrginite to pledge his undying allegiance.’

  ‘But for how long? It feels as if the alliance is crumbling.’

  ‘Was it really so bad?’

  Zastra groaned. ‘I let Borez get to me. There’ll be a price to pay for challenging him the way I did.’

  ‘You can’t be a good leader by pleasing everyone and it’s difficult to please Sendorans.’

  Zastra ran her hands through her chesnut hair.

  ‘I had a dream last night. I was back with Etta and Dalbric. We were farmers like before, but instead of the mountains, we lived in a swamp. We tried to dam the water, but it kept flooding in as fast as we could plug the gaps. Then we got an infestation of black fly. Me and Dalbric were rushing round as fast as we could to paint the cabbage in soapy water but then it got leaf mould. We couldn’t save the crop.’

  ‘A nice allegory for your current situation. Maybe instead of running around trying to deal with each problem as it comes up, you should focus on what you want to achieve. To take your dream as example. What if you’d not built your farm in a swamp?’

  Zastra met his gaze.

  ‘When I was Thorlberd’s prisoner, he said that being against him wasn’t enough. That I had to stand for something.’

  ‘Just because your uncle has done terrible things, it doesn’t mean he’s always wrong.’

  What was she really fighting for? It had started with survival. The need to save Findar and Kastara. But now she had them back, what next? She kicked back the stool and paced around the small cabin. She recalled the slums of Riverford, where the poorest in the city were left to rot and die. She thought of the years she spent exiled in the mountains, working every day and into the night, only for their small profits to be taken in taxes to buy furs and silks for marls already richer than any normal person could dream of. Marls could imprison anyone they liked, without any evidence of wrong-doing. Thorlberd was worst of all, locking up or killing anyone that got in his way. And those blueblood children, like Orika, torn from their parents and forced to take cintara bark. She balled her fists.

  ‘I want a land where people don’t pay taxes unless they get something back. Where those who work hard can feed and clothe their family and have something left over. Where everyone, no matter where they were born, has a chance to make a good life for themselves and a choice about how and where they want to live. And I want us to live with our neighbours in mutual respect, without stupid hatreds based on things that happened so long ago no one even remembers what they were.’

  The words had burst out of her so fast she was left breathless. Dobery nodded encouragingly.

  ‘Good. That passion will be useful when you need to persuade the others. Don’t be afraid to show it.’

  ‘But how can we ever challenge Thorlberd? We are so few and he is so powerful, especially with the Kyrgs on his side.’

  ‘You know, I always wondered how Thorlberd persuaded the Kyrginites to join him. They are a proud race. He must have offered something incredibly valuable in return for such service.’

  ‘More than we could ever afford, that’s for sure, unless we can turn sand and seawater into tocrins.’

  ‘Your Sendoran friend wouldn’t be impressed with such pessimism.’

  That was true. Kylen would never give up the fight, no matter the odds. She should have returned by now and Zastra was beginning to worry. Dobery rearranged his blanket over his legs. Zastra was shocked to see how much he struggled with such a simple task. She resisted the urge to help, knowing his pride would be hurt if she did.

  ‘I’ve been racking my brains, but all I can see is how easy it would be for Thorlberd to repel any attack.’

  ‘Then perhaps you need to look at things from a different angle.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘It would be easy for me to sit here and give you advice, but I don’t have to make the hard decisions or live with the consequences. Trust yourself, Zastra. I won’t be here forever.’

  ‘Don’t think you can escape responsibility by dying on me. If ever I rule Golmeira, I expect you to be my highmaster,’ she said lightly.

  ‘They’ll be plenty of willing candidates for that role. I’m sure Morvain would be delighted to accept the honour.’

  ‘I’m sure he would.’ Zastra turned away. ‘How about some chala?’ She took down a pot from a hook on the wall and dipped it into the water barrel. ‘Did you hear Kastara dragged poor Fin to see Orika? Nearly got them both killed. That girl never does what she’s told.’

  Dobery chuckled.

  ‘I remember Leodra saying the same thing about you.’
>
  ‘That’s different. We were safe in Golmer Castle…’ Zastra broke off, remembering the night her beloved home was ravaged by Thorlberd’s migaradons.

  ‘Not so safe, as it turned out,’ Dobery remarked with a shake of his head.

  ‘I can’t seem to get through to her. I don’t think she’s forgiven me for leaving her behind. All those years, growing up in Golmeira, not knowing who she really was.’

  ‘Who knows what’s going on inside the head of a teenage girl? And I speak as a mindweaver. As far as I can tell it’s a goulash of fear, self-loathing and downright silliness. Don’t make the mistake your father made with you. Let her know that you love her.’

  Do I though? Kastara was her sister, but she was also a stranger. Some days, it was hard to feel what she should for such an obstinate, headstrong girl. She switched to a safer topic.

  ‘Did you know Findar can communicate with animals?’

  ‘It is not uncommon. The migaradon riders all have the same ability. Can’t say I’m surprised. I remember how close he was to your goats when he was small.’

  Zastra pictured her brother, barely old enough to walk, covered in a heaving mound of newborn goats, giggling as they licked his arms and face. The memory made her smile as few things did these days.

  ‘Orika asked him to help her talk to the birds. Said she might feel less lonely.’

  ‘She invited someone new to visit? That’s progress.’

  ‘I’m taking him this afternoon.’

  ‘I’m glad. Send the poor girl my love.’

  The chala pot began to sing. Zastra jumped up and spooned in the spices, followed by a generous helping of syrup, for Dobery had a sweet tooth. The pungent aroma filled the room.

  ‘You know, you could join us, if you want.’

  But Dobery had fallen asleep in his chair and she didn’t have the heart to wake him. She watched him as he slept. His chin dropped into his chest, hiding the large brown birthmark on his cheek. He had always been old, ever since she had known him, but only now did she realise how weak and shrunken his body had become.