Blood and Ashes (The Legend of Graymyrh Book 1)

by E. V. Greig

  She leant forward along her herd mate’s neck and buried her face in his mane. “It is not fair, Uleno! Sometimes I wish that I could switch lives with you. I hate being the Ca’Ryln; I hate being so alone! I wish - I wish that just once there could be someone who only sees me as a person, instead of knowing what I am.” She paused and gulped back a sob. “I wish I could meet someone other than the people in this vale. I wish I could have an adventure - nothing very grand, just to travel and meet people and live in the real world for a time.”

  Uleno shifted his weight and nickered awkwardly. The pale horse toyed briefly with the notion of shying and letting the miserable young woman fall off. How was he supposed to comfort her anyway?

  “Kaiwan! There you are - I thought you had forgotten your own birthday!”

  “Hello Ruiryk. I didn’t forget - I just wanted to give Uleno some exercise.”

  He reached across and tweaked her chin. “Hey now - you shouldn’t be sad on your birthday! Smile or you’ll make it rain all year!”

  “Oh, Ruiryk; do not be foolish - that’s nothing but an old superstition!”

  “Mayhap it is at that,” he conceded. “Still - Corinne has been baking all morning and Lonrari even smiled once or twice! So that at the very least makes this an important day, would you not agree?”

  Kaiwan giggled and nodded. “Forgive me for being such a hanging cloud; I was just wishing that I could have an adventure.”

  “Why in the world would you wish for such misfortune? And on your birthday of all days! Trust me, Kaiwan – I’ve had adventures, and a quiet life is far better.” He sighed. “Anyway, let us hurry back. At this rate you’ll miss your own coming of age feast!”

  ∞∞∞

  Althanor was lying flat on his back in the long grass by the river. He had spent most of the morning hunting frogs and newts in the warm shallow water. Now the young par’anth had switched his attentions to the far more serious matter of what he could possibly give Kaiwan for her birthday. It was, after all, her coming of age year - Althanor knew that he would be in a lot of trouble with his parents if he dishonoured them by not finding a suitable gift.

  The only problem was that he had absolutely no idea of what he should give her. The boy frowned at that; his bright blue eyes darkening slightly as he wondered again whether Kaiwan would appreciate a frog as a pet. She certainly hadn’t liked the three that he had left in her bed yesterday! Perhaps he ought to pick her some flowers instead. Kaiwan liked flowers and the wild roses were in full bloom now.

  There was a strange sound then, as if the air had folded in on itself and then snapped out flat again. A cloud of dust and leaves swirled up and enveloped Althanor. Coughing and spluttering, he staggered to his feet. His long golden hair was coated in dirt from the cloud and he could smell what he thought was lightning in the air. His clothes too were filthy; he hoped that his parents would believe him when he told them of the strange storm! Surely, they would have seen it too - indeed, they were probably worried about him! Moreover, if they were worried, then they were far less likely to be angry with him for having forgotten to get Kaiwan a gift! He smiled at that and started to run back towards the cabin.

  ∞∞∞

  Corinne Shadowhawke shaded her eyes and stared up at the tree line. There was something wrong with the way the cedars were swaying. The great trees tossed and groaned as if caught in a hurricane. She hoped that Althanor was safe. Why did their son insist on going wandering? He was so small and fragile - Corinne lived in dread that something terrible would happen to him. Slo’annathorys kept telling her not to worry; that the valley was protected. She could never bring herself to argue with him and kept her fears to herself.

  No, this strange storm was too much - someone would have to go and find Althanor. She glanced back into the tiny wattle and daub cabin that they all shared. The food for the birthday feast was all prepared and the main room festooned with flowers. She had time enough to find Althanor and be back before the celebrations began.

  Behind her, the entire of the cabin shook imperceptibly. A quivering sensation passed through her body, followed at once by a strange sort of coldness. For an instant, Corinne was impossibly tired. All that she wanted was to lie down and sleep forever. She knew that she could not; the boy needed her...always he needed her! From the agonising hours of his birthing until now and always was she bound to him! Never to be free: not as long as he lived. He was her child; it was a mother’s duty to serve and protect her offspring, unto death.

  The creature that had been Corinne raised her hands and flexed her fingers as if in contemplation. Her skin had taken on a greyish tone and her nails had lengthened into hooked claws. Suddenly, she felt filled with dark energy. A new sensation whispered at the edges of what was once her mind. Desire for flesh filled her. The boy - he and his ilk will feed me.

  Yes - the children were the key to survival for her kind, she sensed this. The boy was prey and she would catch him. She would kill any that got in her way.

  ∞∞∞

  “How’s the mead, Banor?” Slo’annathorys glanced down at the varyn from his perch high in one of the great cedar trees, which framed the vale. He was observing Althanor: as usual, his small son was too busy playing to remember his task. Kaiwan would be short of a gift if it were not for Slo’annathorys’ foresight. Aware of Althanor’s forgetful nature, the sword master was even now carving a small wooden horse for the boy to present as a gift. The hard part was in making the crafting look crude enough to have come from a child.

  Banor grunted and gestured vaguely. “Ach, I suppose tha’ could call it mead, for a child’s cup at least! I still say it needs to be more potent.”

  “And I still concur with Lonrari about that - Kaiwan is not used to strong drink.”

  “Pheh - and whose fault is that? Tha’ baby her!”

  Slo’annathorys smiled thinly. “Perhaps we do at that but she has enough hardship ahead of her. She deserves to have a good birthday - which means no strong drink, no swearing, no violence, and no setting fire to things. Or people for that matter.”

  “Not even Ruiryk?” Banor sounded wistful.

  “Banor, how many times must we go over this? What happened at that temple was an accident - Ruiryk did not intentionally trigger that alarm. He is not to blame for the loss of the takings.”

  “All that lovely sanctified wine - they don’t make that stuff anymore, tha’ know. The grape that was used died out nearly four centuries ago.”

  “I am starting to think that you need help with your drinking.” Slo’annathorys glanced down at his friend. “No offence intended - I am concerned for you.”

  “Don’t be worrying over me; I can drink just fine without any help.” Banor grinned evilly and spat on a passing butterfly, felling the hapless insect. It struggled briefly and then succumbed to the alcohol-laced saliva. “I suppose this mead will do.”

  “Glad to hear that...!”

  A rush of air and a snapping of boughs cut off the sword master’s voice. For an instant, Banor lay stunned, half-buried in dust and broken shards of cedar; the keg of mead crushed beneath one of the larger branches. Cursing and spluttering, the grizzled old varyn pulled himself free of the ruined tree and looked about him for Slo’annathorys.

  He cupped his gnarled hands to his face and shouted. “Where are tha’? Do tha’ live or die? Anth - answer me, curse tha’ those pointy ears, Slo’annathorys!” He stumbled forward and began to tug at some of the fallen branches. “Anth – if tha’ live and hear me, sing out!”

  His foot caught on something hard. Muttering, Banor knelt and cleared away the foliage from about his legs. Sunlight glinted on jade and he felt his heart wrench. Reaching down, he picked up the familiar rose hilted weapon. Staggering forward, Banor worked feverishly to move the remainder of the cedar tree. He struggled to no avail – beneath it, all that he found was a broken carving of a horse and a small knife. There was no trace of Slo’annathorys. The sylvanth was gone - vanished along with what
ever strange wind had toppled the tree.

  ∞∞∞

  Kaiwan gazed up at the azure sky and frowned. “Ruiryk - did you see that strange flash of silver up by the cedar trees? It was almost like lightning and yet not.”

  Ruiryk leaned across and tugged at a lock of her long dark hair. “Ha - I did tell you not to cry on your birthday!”

  “I should turn you into a newt for being such a tease!”

  “If you did that, then who would there be left to make you laugh?” His hand wreathed briefly through her hair and pulled out a sprig of wild cherry. “And to pull all of these plants out of your hair - honestly Kaiwan, anyone would think you liked wild cherry!”

  “You always know how to make me smile.”

  His eyes lingered on her angular features as she nuzzled the flower, his gaze wandering briefly down her neck and over her body. Blinking, he cleared his throat. “No problem at all. What else are friends for?”

  “Kaiwan, Ruiryk - wait for me!”

  Ruiryk sighed. Althanor had an uncanny talent for turning up right when he wasn’t wanted. Well, mayhap it is better this way. Lonrari would castrate me if she knew my thoughts!

  The young par’anth was already scrambling up in front of Kaiwan; demanding attention. “You two ought to have seen what happened - there was a strange storm down by the river! I was so frightened, Kaiwan. I nearly died!” The boy’s eyes were even wider than usual.

  “You poor little soul, do not be frightened!” Kaiwan wrapped her slim arms around the golden haired child. “It was just a storm after all. We saw it too - there was lightning up above the cedars.”

  “I want to go back to the cabin: please, can we? I want my mother.”

  Kaiwan shushed him and looked at Ruiryk. “I had best take him back. Still, someone really ought to go and check on Banor and Slo’annathorys. They were up at the cedars earlier - I saw them this morning. I think Banor has a still up there.”

  “They went to fetch the mead for your coming of age feast.” Ruiryk turned his horse to face the sloping tree line. “I’ll go and hurry them home; we’ll see you back at the cabin. Corinne is probably worried sick about Althanor anyway.”

  ∞∞∞

  Banor stumbled along through the cedar trees, following the path of the wind. Whatever storm had carried off his friend would have to die away eventually, the old varyn reasoned. When it did, Slo’annathorys would fall back down to the ground. Alive or dead, Banor meant to find him – after all, the sylvanth had never given up on him!

  ∞∞∞

  They were halfway back from the river to the cabin when Uleno first caught the scent. An odour of decay and predatory musk mingled with an intangible something to form an invisible miasma of fear that choked the pale horse’s breath in his throat and stilled his wits to a frantic sense of danger. All he knew was that he had to escape, to flee as swiftly as possible.

  For a few moments, the bond between Ullensian and steed wavered. Kaiwan sensed Uleno’s terror and ran her palm along his neck to sooth him. “It is alright, Uleno. There is nothing dangerous in the Vale. It is just a storm.”

  "This is no storm - no act of my Maker brought that wind! We ought to flee this place.”

  “We will be safe at the cabin.”

  Uleno tossed his mane and flattened his ears. “The danger is coming towards us from the cabin. I tell you, I sense death upon the air!”

  "Calm yourself, Uleno! We must pass the cabin whatever choice we make - the others are all up on the far ridge of the valley.”

  “Then by Ullen’s Antlers, let us go around it! I warn you, Kaiwan, no good will await us there.”

  Kaiwan was Ullensian born - she knew to trust her steed. Nevertheless, she was also the Ca’Ryln and that meant that she had a duty to others. Corinne was back at the cabin. Looking down at the youngster sleeping in her arms, Kaiwan knew that she could not simply abandon his mother to whatever evil had befallen them all. “We go to the cabin. Corinne is alone there. I will not abandon her.”

  “We go to our deaths then.” Uleno was silent from then on. Only the faint trembling of his flanks betrayed his fear. He too knew his duty and he would not abandon it.

  There was a soft rustling sound from the nearby trees. Kaiwan turned her head to look. “Ruiryk – is that you?”

  The branches exploded outwards in a mist of shattered wood and withered leaves as something that had once been a living, breathing woman swept into view. Its once fair skin was pallid, the hair had darkened to a coarse mass of dead black that seemed to reach for them even as the vicious talons extended. Worst of all was the impossibly distended jaw that framed a mouth filled by long curved fangs. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air and Uleno reared backwards in terror and revulsion.

  Kaiwan cried out as she and Althanor tumbled clear of the pale horse. They hit the ground hard, driving the air from her lungs and jolting Althanor into wakefulness. “What’s happening?” He instinctively scrambled to his feet.

  The nhynquara cackled and lunged for the helpless boy that she had once called son. Althanor froze – paralyzed by fear and disbelief. This could not be happening - this could only be a nightmare! He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wake up. The tip of a talon raked across his cheek, drawing a bead of emerald coloured blood.

  Uleno squealed and plunged at the nhynquara, his fore hooves striking her hard across the chest. The young stallion pranced forward – interposing himself between the monster and her intended prey. The she-fiend screeched with fury and slashed out at Uleno, her talons ripping deep into his neck and head. The pale horse fell silently to his knees and then slumped onto one side. His mighty heart beat for an instant longer and he heard, dimly, as Althanor began to cry. Then shock and blood loss claimed him.

  Somehow, Kaiwan staggered to her feet, half-weeping and half-retching at the violence of Uleno’s passing. “Althanor, get behind me and stay there!”

  The boy sobbed but he obeyed, clinging desperately to her waist and burying his tearstained face against her robe. “I’m scared, Kaiwan!”

  “It’s alright, Althanor: I’ll protect you.” Her legs quavered as she spoke the words. How can I defend him against a nhynquara?

  The creature moved towards them, hissing in anticipation. “Flessshhh…!”

  “No! I will not let you take him!” The faint silver glow of her pupils brightened and spread outward. A bubble of white light began to form around the young caster and her companion, as the nhynquara snarled and sprang at them. Althanor gave a yelp of fear and loosed his hold on Kaiwan’s waist. Spinning and scrabbling all at once, the young par’anth fled for his life. Kaiwan flung herself between the nhynquara and the fleeing child. There was no hope now of her spell holding out but perhaps she could slow the creature down somehow.

  No sooner had Kaiwan leapt forward than it was upon her. Its long fingers locked around her shoulders, pinioning her arms. That awful mouth gaped open once more. Kaiwan screamed and kicked out hard. Her legs passed through what felt like a thick cloud and then the mass of hair engulfed her.

  ∞∞∞

  Ruiryk stared in confusion at the small animals fleeing the cedar ridge. “That strange wind has frightened every beast and bird in this valley!”

  “The wild things have more sense than you then, boy!” He was tumbled from his steed and clapped in chains before he even saw his assailants. A boot dug into his ribs – not a kick but a suggestion that perhaps one might follow. Ruiryk lay still and silent; inwardly cursing himself for having been so careless.

  His captors rolled him onto his back and looked down at him from beyond their spears. Their pale features were bereft of any clue as to their intentions – but one did not grow up under the tutelage of a sylvanth without learning something about their mannerisms. Ruiryk could glimpse a faint flicker within their eyes. No, not bent on murdering him and neither did they actively wish to inflict any serious pain. One or two were even a little amused.

  “He is not so very foolish, for
a skree’akh!” The sylvanth who spoke this time looked disdainful. His cloak was of sheer gold, trimmed with diamonds – clearly he held some important rank. “Someone has taught him when to be silent, at least.”

  “Ha – I wonder who? Let us ask him!” The first sylvanth knelt down beside Ruiryk, resting one knee on the youth’s chest. His cloak was almost plain – deep grey velvet, lined with pale turquoise silk. They were all armoured in black enamelled chainmail and soft dark leather. “So, boy – who was it that tamed you? Which anth is your lord?”

  “I am no one’s slave!” Ruiryk fought to keep his heart from pounding for fear that they would hear it.

  “Be thankful that we do not believe you or else I should have whipped you for such impertinence!” The sylvanthi leader shifted his weight slightly and Ruiryk felt the air crushed from his lungs. “Now – who tamed you? His name, boy, else you drown on dry land!”

  Ruiryk closed his eyes and let his mind drift. The roof tiles are cold under my feet as I run toward the spire…there’s a smell of rain to the night air…the moon Goddess is hiding behind her veil tonight…

  “He knows how to meditate!” The grey-cloaked sylvanth sat back a little at that. “Intriguing – I must admit that I was not expecting this!”

  “What’s to be done with him, Tyras?” The sylvanth in the golden cloak sounded concerned. “You said that this would be over swiftly - you know that we dare not tarry here long!”

  “Fear not, Isyl Luenvyrh. If he won’t talk, then we shall go fishing instead.”

  “You mean to use the boy as bait? Isyl Kolbez will not approve of this, Tyras.” Isyl Luenvyrh shook his head firmly. “You must make him talk here and now, where there is no risk of our being discovered. Do whatever is necessary but get me the name! My sylth will see to the rest.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Priestess – forgive me my intrusion but there is something wrong in the Vale.” Luath knelt quietly at the edge of the small pool wherein Lonrari was bathing. “A strange wind swept through and set every beast and bird to flight – and now the grass withers before my eyes!” He kept his eyes firmly affixed upon the aforementioned turf.