Warrior of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

Throughout the morning, the invaders attempted to row across the swamp in coracles stolen from the gemlyx. Hylaz, Justyn and Lorzan positioned themselves across the gap, each accompanied by a young mindweaver to protect their thoughts. Armed with crossbows and plenty of bolts, they forced each coracle to turn back. Zastra was surprised Strinverl didn’t launch more migaradons. Kylen had reported that twenty, at least, had disappeared from the breeding grounds in Bractaria. Where were the rest? She rested her leg while others caught up on what sleep they could. Rafadal and Urbek had disappeared, working on a task Zastra had set them. She dozed fitfully until the drop in temperature signalled the coming rains. It would send the Golmeirans running for cover. Only the ko-yamacha knew exactly how much time they had before the rains began. It was a small advantage, but one Zastra planned to use. Bekka had, with great reluctance, been persuaded to relinquish Kiri once again, her bald spots daubed with yellowsap. Zastra levered herself onto the vulyx’s back, pain shooting up her thigh and down her shin. Justyn had offered to take her place, but he proved too heavy for the vulyx to carry. She was thankful this flight would be a short one. Hit and run, as Lorzan had suggested.

  Morvain and the other mindweavers prepared to swing towards gemlyx land as Kiri flew from the kabana, taking Zastra above the canopy. The storm clouds gathered and thickened. There was a rumble of thunder, worryingly close, but Zastra had to trust Rafadal, who had said they would have enough time to complete their mission before the rains came. At her signal, Kiri dropped down through a gap in the canopy and weaved gracefully through the yamacha branches towards the occupied territory. With any luck, the Golmeirans would already be cowering in their tents. Zastra sat up and set the stock of her crossbow snugly beneath her collarbone. She carried a spare slung on her back, pre-loaded with three ordinary bolts. No need to waste precious scale-tips on this mission. She wasn’t hunting migaradons. She searched for the lastic tents, lined along branches like black pearls on a necklace.

  ‘Arhk! Arhk! Kiri croaked as Zastra sent her on a strafing run. The tents were packed with Golmeirans, sheltering from the rains that were about to come. A lieutenant stared at her, opened mouthed, but Zastra ignored her. Soldiers were not her targets, not yet. Two black-robed figures turned towards her. She fired twice. Justice for those poor gemlyx you sent to their deaths. A third mindweaver was dispatched as efficiently. She swapped her empty crossbow for the one on her back. The Golmeirans had realised their danger and were scrambling from the tents, reaching for their own crossbows. Zastra emptied her second bow, her aim accurate and deadly. Time to leave. She sent Kiri soaring upwards before the Golmeirans could return fire and returned to Shirifa’s kabana. As she dismounted, she sucked in a sharp breath as her leg gave way beneath her. The bandage round her thigh was soaked in blood. A crack of thunder overhead was followed by the sound of rain pattering on the canopy. At that moment, Morvain and the others returned.

  ‘Congratulations on a most effective distraction,’ he said. ‘Twelve mindweavers remain after your little foray and we know exactly where they are.’

  Zastra nodded and limped into the kabana.

  ‘Good work. Time for the next phase.’

  Rafadal had been busy. Around the base of Shirifa’s yamacha he had gathered five coracles, each covered with a protective dome of lastic. Oars poked out through small holes in the material. They would row across the swamp during the rains, when the invaders would not expect an attack. Morvain and the others had identified five black ravens who were isolated, with no others close by; these were their targets. Polina, Gwylla and Morvain would split up and take on those who had seemed the strongest, supported by selected ko-yamacha and the ko-venteela. Zenarbia was assigned Hylaz and Justyn, and Waylin was supported by Ithgol and Lorzan. Zastra reluctantly accepted she must stay behind.

  ‘You’ll only slow us down,’ said Justyn and she was forced to agree, for with her wound opening up again she could barely stand.

  ‘Bring them back safe,’ she said.

  ‘My word on it,’ Justyn promised. She couldn’t help worrying as her companions headed down the tree towards the swamp, wearing the conical hats and yellowsap impregnated cloaks of the ko-yamacha. The healer replaced Zastra’s dressing, not bothering to be gentle.

  ‘Ruining my good work,’ she muttered crossly, ignoring Zastra’s grunt of pain as she yanked the fresh bandage tight. When she had finished, she offered Zastra a plate of fruit and vegetables, but Zastra waved it away, too anxious to eat.

  ‘Do not move!’ the healer said as Zastra tried to rise from her cushion. Time crawled past, painfully slow. The rains drowned out any sounds that might have come from gemlyx territory. At last, Morvain’s team returned, followed by Gwylla and Waylin. Myshka dabbed a damp cloth on a nasty looking burn on the back of her wrist, but otherwise they were unhurt.

  ‘Everything went to plan,’ Morvain said in satisfaction.

  ‘Same here,’ said Waylin. ‘Ithgol killed the black raven before he even woke up. And then the rest of the soldiers.’

  He looked at the Kyrg with respect, mingled with fear. Gwylla looked pale, but nodded at Zastra. She had completed her task. Zastra felt for the girl. The first time in battle was never easy, nor should it be.

  ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘Any sign of the others?’ No one had seen Polina or Zenarbia since the coracles had separated. They waited and waited. Zastra was just about to risk the wrath of the healer and climb down the tree to go and look for them when Polina staggered into the kabana. Her hands were covered in blood and her face was pale.

  ‘Healer!’ she gasped. Morvain grabbed her before she collapsed.

  ‘What’s wrong? Are you wounded?’

  ‘Not me.’

  The doorway went dark as Hylaz entered, carrying Justyn. The fletched end of a bolt stuck out of Justyn’s back, just below his ribs and his shirt was soaked in blood. The healer ripped open the shirt and sucked in her breath. The bolt had gone right through Justyn’s midriff. Zenarbia followed the others in and sank to the floor with a sob.

  ‘My target was Strinverl,’ Zenarbia sobbed. ‘I tried to block him but he was too strong. I blacked out.’

  ‘It is fortunate I am true-blooded,’ Hylaz said.’ And that Polina came for us.’

  Justyn’s blood spread across the floor of the kabana. The healer snapped the head off the bolt and Justyn’s face went grey. Zastra knelt beside him.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she said. ‘Don’t you dare die on us.’

  ‘Once we had taken out our target, I sent a probe out to the others,’ Polina said quietly. ‘I sensed Zenarbia was in trouble. Strinverl is very powerful. It took all my powers to fend him off. I had nothing spare to disable their soldiers.’

  ‘Justyn was hurt protecting our retreat,’ Hylaz concluded. ‘He insisted on bringing up the rear.’

  The healer extracted the bolt and Justyn slumped to the floor, unconscious. The healer pressed her hand to the wound to try and stem the flow of blood, but it continued to spread between her fingers.

  ‘What can we do?’ Zastra asked. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Rafadal.

  ‘As soon as the rains stop, we will attack,’ he said. ‘They will pay the price for what they have done.’

  Rafadal had gathered the vulyx clan along the border. Many gemlyx had returned, eager for vengeance. Zastra was content to let Rafadal take the lead – the Makhana Forest was his land, the gemlyx his people. They planned to attack in strength, trusting their sheer numbers would overwhelm any remaining black ravens. Even someone as strong as Strinverl couldn’t control a thousand determined ko-yamacha. Zastra insisted that her mindweavers be positioned along the line to protect as many as they could. Rafadal accepted gratefully. Ithgol, Hylaz and Lorzan asked to join the attack.

  ‘For Justyn,’ said Hylaz.

  The rains stopped and as soon as the yamacha leaves had absorbed the acidic rain, yellow-daubed ko-yamacha began to swarm through the forest. They brought their birds with them. Huge vulyx sw
ooped above the steaming canopy, diving down to pluck unwary invaders from their perches. The healer was too busy with Justyn to protest as Zastra mounted Kiri once more, on the lookout for migaradons. The green-feathered gemlyx flew beside their masters and mistresses, pecking and scratching at the enemy, sending the Golmeirans scattering like ants disturbed from their nest. In their panic, they dropped their weapons to grab at the lastic vines. Many overshot the landing mats and fell into the swamp, leaving their comrades stranded as all the eastward facing vines were left hanging loose between the trees. Rafadal’s people showed no mercy. It was terrible to witness such a friendly, hospitable people turned to such rage, slaughtering their enemy like tree rats and harrying them all the way to the eastern edge of the forest, where the Falls of Candema cascaded down into a swirling river. This was the border between Aliterra and Golmeira, the spray from the vast waterfalls forming a dense cloud. Zastra and Kiri sailed through the mist until they were above the vast lake that fed the falls. A flotilla of small canoes was already disappearing towards Golmeira, heedless of the retreating troops left stranded at the bottom of the waterfalls. Above the canoes flew a single migaradon, ridden by a stick-like figure in black robes. He wheeled around to face Zastra. Strinverl. She felt him pluck at her mental barrier, but at this distance his probe was weak and she fended it off easily. However, there was nothing she could do to stop his projection. An image of the Western Spur, the secret channel and Uden’s Teeth. Zastra cried out in horror. Strinverl’s voice reverberated gloatingly inside her head.

  You have been betrayed. The image shifted to show a vast fleet accompanied by a squadron of more than a dozen migaradons. She felt Strinverl’s triumph roll over her.

  Enjoy your hollow little victory. The grand marl himself is leading the attack. By the time you return, all those you care about will be dead.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Kastara turned a full circle, tilting her face upwards to catch the warmth of the sun. There was nothing but sea and sky in all directions. They had even left the gulls behind. At last she felt as if she could breathe.

  ‘How far to the Spur?’ she asked, although for once she was in no hurry.

  ‘We’re making good progress,’ said Myka, ‘I reckon a couple more days.’

  The wind was southeasterly, but their little yacht was running well on a close reach.

  ‘Haul the mainsail line,’ barked Nerika. ‘It’s luffing.’

  Findar hurried to obey even though Kastara was nearest to the sail. Kastara felt Nerika’s eyes boring into her. Small wonder Kylen had wanted to get rid of the woman. Myka could have skippered them just as well and with much less fussing, but Kylen had insisted that they be chaperoned by someone with more experience. She had only let them go after Kastara had publicly reminded her of her promise, knowing how Sendorans bragged about keeping their word.

  ‘When are you going to practise?’ asked Myka, once Findar had trimmed the mainsail to Nerika’s satisfaction. ‘That was supposed to be the point of this trip, after all.’

  ‘You’re so wrong, Myka,’ Findar remarked with a chuckle. ‘The point was to get Kastara out of doing any work.’

  ‘You’re enjoying this every bit as much as me.’ Kastara knelt by the prow and trailed her fingers in the cool waters of the Serene Sea, which was, for once, living up to its name.

  ‘Don’t you feel guilty?’ Myka asked. ‘Everyone else digging those trenches, while you sunbathe?’

  ‘Only as guilty as you feel about Wricken.’

  ‘Wricken thinks I’ve done him a favour. He’s convinced Podara’s halfway to being in love with him and that another day of watching him dig will convince her of his merits.’

  ‘Surely even Podara has better taste,’ said Kastara, yawning.

  ‘Are you going to sit there all day?’

  ‘Can’t you just enjoy something for once, Myka?’

  ‘It’s too quiet,’ said Findar. ‘With no animals or birds about, I feel like something is missing. As if there’s been this background noise in my head that I never realised was there.’

  ‘Look out!’ Myka yelled. ‘A migaradon! Diving right for us.’

  ‘What? Where?’ Kastara’s shield burst out of her chest and broke over the boat. The force of it tipped the mast backwards and the yacht reared up like a striking snake.

  ‘Stop playing games!’ barked Nerika, gripping the tiller with both hands as the hull crashed back down into the water, sending spray flying. Kastara looked up. There was no migaradon.

  ‘You tricked me!’

  ‘Keep your shield up,’ Myka said.

  ‘Look!’ exclaimed Findar. ‘Kas, I can see it!’

  The water immediately around the yacht was as smooth as glass. Beyond it, the ruffled surface of the sea slapped against an invisible barrier.

  ‘The water can’t get in,’ Findar remarked.

  ‘Nor the wind,’ Myka added, as the mainsail and jib sagged lifelessly.

  ‘I told you to stop playing about,’ snapped Nerika. ‘We can’t go anywhere without wind.’

  ‘Can you make it smaller?’ suggested Findar. ‘So that it’s only around you, instead of the whole boat.’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘Try breathing in and out, only with your mind. Dobery told Orika that, to help control her mindmoving.’

  ‘And we know how successful that was,’ Kastara said with a snort. However, knowing where the edge of her shield was helped her locate it inside herself. She sensed it as a sphere of wispy light and focussed on pulling it inwards. The area of calm water shrank and then disappeared. Her shield was just inches from her skin now. She tried to reach out to touch it, but it moved outwards with her hand.

  ‘Touch me,’ she commanded. Myka prodded his finger towards her but was unable to reach her skin.

  ‘Weird!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘What’s it feel like?’

  ‘Soft and hard at the same time. Like an iron door upholstered in leather.’

  Without warning, he shoulder-charged her. She felt nothing as he bounced off her barrier. Myka staggered to retain his footing, causing the boat to rock violently.

  ‘I won’t tell you again,’ Nerika growled. ‘Do you want to swim all the way back to Uden’s Teeth?’

  ‘I was only seeing if I could budge her.’

  Kastara’s head started to pound from the effort of maintaining the barrier but she didn’t let it fall. At last she was beginning to understand her special power and she wasn’t about to give that up lightly. She began to feel dizzy. Findar narrowed his eyes.

  ‘It even blocks mindweaving,’ he said. ‘I can’t get past it. Or even sense you’re there.’

  ‘Her lips are turning blue!’ Myka remarked.

  ‘Drop the barrier, Kas!’ Findar cried. ‘Now!’

  She let the barrier collapse and sucked in a deep breath. The air tasted fresh and sweet.

  ‘You nearly suffocated yourself.’ Findar laughed nervously. ‘If wind can’t get through, then neither can air.’

  ‘That would have been embarrassing,’ said Myka.

  ‘I’m glad you both find the idea of my death funny,’ Kastara said, although she felt her cheeks flush. No wonder Zastra hadn’t wanted to take her to Aliterra. She was a liability.

  ‘I suppose I would miss you,’ said Myka. ‘You are always good for deflecting attention away from the rest of us.’

  ‘I’m touched.’ Kastara stuck out her tongue.

  ‘Myka, haul in the jib a fraction,’ Nerika instructed. ‘We’ve lost enough time with this foolishness.’

  For the rest of the afternoon she kept them hard at work, bailing out water and adjusting sail to make best speed. In the gaps between her terse instructions, Findar and Kastara practised image projection until Nerika made them stop.

  ‘By the stars, I’m fed up of seeing Mata’s son in my head. Does the lad not own a shirt?’

  Kastara and Findar both flushed. They had been targeting each other, but
it seemed their projections were leaking out into the minds of anyone within range. Myka grew weary of such games and took himself to the rear of the yacht to fish. He seemed in no mood for talking and so Kastara practised with her shield. She formed it into a flat wall, so she could push away the seawater without risking suffocation. She tried making the barrier wider, and then kept it in place for ever longer intervals. Over the next few days her efforts kept her busy and she was surprised when the Spur appeared on the horizon. It rose steeply out of the water, covered in barnacles. There was no beach to land on. Instead a wooden stake had been wedged into a crevice to serve for mooring. Nerika guided them carefully in, reefing the mainsail and leaning hard on the tiller to reduce speed. Above the barnacle-encrusted rocks, the Spur steepened into a pockmarked cliff, its hollows thick with nesting cormorants. The vinegary scent of their droppings mingled with the salty tang of the sea.

  ‘There should be a boat here,’ Nerika said, puzzlement etched across her sharp features.

  ‘Perhaps the guards are fishing?’ Kastara suggested.

  ‘They should be guarding. That’s the whole point,’ Nerika snapped. ‘Everyone grab some supplies.’

  ‘You can’t expect us to lug all these heavy boxes?’ Kastara protested.

  ‘Stop whining. You volunteered for this.’

  ‘Where is the outpost exactly?’

  Nerika jerked her head towards the top of the spur. Kastara groaned.

  ‘All that way? I’d have been better off shovelling sand.’

  ‘Where else did you think a look out would be?’ Nerika returned. ‘But I suppose hard work is beneath a daughter of a grand marl.’

  ‘I wish someone would treat me like a grand marl’s daughter for once,’ Kastara muttered, ‘instead of a skivvy.’

  She wrapped her arms around a barrel, levered it up with her knee and staggered after the others. The barnacles cut into the soles of her boots and she was glad to leave them behind. The ground rose steeply and her arms began to tremble with effort. She dropped the barrel and sat on it while she caught her breath. Findar waited for her as Nerika and Myka continued upwards.