Soul Bonds Book 1 Circles of Light series

by E. M. Sinclair

  ‘No Krea, I’ll only do things when you have shown me the proper way.’ He gave a mighty sniff. ‘But when can I fly with Tika on my back?’ His eyes began to sparkle blue lights again although a little moist still.

  ‘Not for a while,’ Krea replied. ‘You must wait until your growth is sufficient and you can carry her safely.’

  ‘Will we have to stay here until then?’

  ‘No. I had thought that tomorrow we would leave and start our journey into the Ancient Mountains. If we wait too long we will be late for the Gathering. I will carry Tika to begin with. Now rest, both of you. I will teach you many things as we travel.’

  In the first paleness of dawn the two Dragons and the human child stood at the edge of the high cave. Tika shivered and immediately Krea enquired: ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘A little,’ said Tika, ‘but I’m nervous too,’ she added honestly.

  ‘I have wondered how you heat yourself. We of the Treasury can regulate our body temperature to a certain extent.’

  Tika plucked at the fabric of her green shirt. ‘We wear clothes. Thicker ones and as many as we can in the winter.’

  Krea registered surprise. ‘I thought that was a deformity of your own hide,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where can we find you more of these “clothes”?’

  ‘I suppose only in a town, but I have no money to buy anything.’

  ‘Money? No, do not try to tell me now,’ Krea said hastily. ‘A town is your name for your strange caves on top of the ground?’

  ‘You mean houses. Lots of houses together make a town.’

  Farn had been listening intently but he now interrupted to point out he was most eager to begin their journey, and the sky was light already, and were they going to stay here talking till noon? Krea stared hard at Farn and he stared equally firmly at the sky.

  ‘Come Tika, lie on my back and hold fast where my wings grow from my body. That’s right – not so tight – I will not let you fall.’

  ‘Come ON!’ Farn urged, and lifted from the ledge.

  Tika had her eyes tight shut for the first minutes but was aware of barely any motion. Perhaps Krea had only moved forward, perhaps they were still inside the cave. She opened her eyes and could only stare.

  They were flying! SHE was flying, on the back of a Dragon! She looked back to see the cave but already they were over the circling peaks rimming the plateau and the cave was gone from sight.

  They flew directly towards the rising sun and Krea did not call a rest until nearly midday, by which time Farn was very tired. They flew above more bare and wind-twisted rocks, plateaux and occasional deep gullies. They kept fairly low, seeming to skim the very highest crags and Tika understood this was for both her benefit and also for Farn’s.

  After several hours of flying over this barren landscape, one or two gnarled tapisi trees appeared, clinging to rocks and bent as low as bushes by the wind. Obviously, this whole area knew seasons of fierce weather, Tika realised, and she guessed they were lucky at the relative gentleness of the present wind.

  Gradually the number of tapisi increased and the surface of the ground was faintly furred with sparse green. Krea kept them in flight until a thin silvery ribbon indicated a watercourse. She slowed and turned into an easy glide, landing smoothly at the side of the stream. Farn landed beside her, his exhausted muscles making his whole body shiver.

  Tika slid from Krea’s back and helped Farn to the water where he drank deep and long. Tika was herself drinking the icy water when she heard Krea: ‘You have done well hatchling. I am most pleased with your endurance. We have covered a better distance already than I had hoped for so we will remain here till next dawn. Rest while I seek food.’

  Farn sank onto the short grass beside a tapis and began rubbing his forefeet under his armpits. Tika watched, gradually understanding he was getting oil from glands there, which he then worked over his wings. ‘My wings must stay supple,’ explained Farn. ‘The hide can crack if it becomes dry, then I might not be able to fly.’

  Tika helped, stretching out the wings as Farn kneaded and smoothed in the oil. She rubbed some of the oil down Farn’s neck and spine and the upper length of his tail, amazed as ever by the way the scales grew in such an orderly way. Each one overlapped the next like a Lord’s armoured coat, yet so pliant and warm. Except for his wings and what Tika thought of as “hands” and “feet”, his whole body was turquoise scaled. His feet, with four toes bare of scales, were covered in smooth, darker blue hide, as were his hands and wings.

  Dragon hands had three “fingers” and an opposable thumb from which the tips of retractable talons could be seen. Farn’s head was drooping onto his chest with weariness when Krea landed with meat. She had a volu for Farn and an already scorched hopper for Tika. The volu disappeared inside Farn in less than the time it took Tika to eat the much smaller, but very hot, hopper. Farn groaned with satisfaction and stretched out on the grass, his head on Tika’s leg. Within seconds he was sound asleep.

  ‘I think we have travelled enough for Farn today,’ Krea said softly. ‘He has done well but he is still too small yet for prolonged journeying.’

  The pale honey coloured Dragon also stretched herself on the grass, her eyes half closed.

  ‘Tell me of yourself Tika,’ she said gently.

  What was there to tell, Tika wondered? The Dragons had rummaged through her memories several times she thought so what more did Krea need her to tell?

  ‘I would know how two legs live. Do you have Clans as we do? Why do you live in one place all the time? Tell me of your Clan, Tika.’

  ‘I am – or I was – slave born. My mother was a slave captured in a raid by the Lord and his Fighters, from a tribe far north. I think my mother was damaged when she was caught, at least, I remember her as being weak all the time. She died when I was nearing my third Cold Season.’

  Krea hissed quietly. ‘What is a “slave”, child?’

  ‘A slave is someone taken by force from their home and who must then obey their owner in all things.’

  ‘You own each other?’ Krea’s eyes whirred as she concentrated on understanding Tika’s strange words. ‘We of the Treasury own only ourselves. I cannot understand this at all.’

  Tika sighed. ‘Well, I was born a slave because Mother was a slave. But I look like her – she had dark hair and green eyes and most of the Lord’s people are fair, with blue or brown eyes. So the other children always picked on me or blamed me for any trouble.’ She felt Krea struggling to feel the exact meaning of her words.

  ‘I had work to do, cleaning houses, clearing stones from the gardens, and sometimes when the Lord was home, I was summoned to be his play pet.’ Tika paused. ‘I have had my fourteenth Cold Season and the women said I would soon have to be his pretty. I’m not quite sure what I’d have had to do but I had an idea. I didn’t like it. So I decided to run away.’ She looked straight into Krea’s glowing eyes and finished: ‘I would rather have died on the mountain than live as a slave-pretty to the Lord, and be passed on to his Fighters when he tired of me.’

  Tika fell silent and Krea also was silent, thinking of what Tika had told her and trying to comprehend. ‘You say you have been fourteen Cold Seasons in this world, and I understand you to mean this Lord would mate you soon? Is this the usual age for two legs? How long do you live? We of the Treasury are barely adult by the time fifty Cold Seasons have passed. None speak at a Gathering until they are of that age – indeed even then it is considered rash. Usually we say nothing there until a hundred Seasons have matured us to a little wisdom.’

  Tika gaped. ‘I think the Lord is near forty, and he is considered getting old. Erm, may I ask how old you are Krea?’

  ‘Why, I have seen more than seven times a hundred Cold Seasons small one; I am well into my middle years now.’

  Tika’s mind could scarcely grasp what she was hearing. Quietness settled over them as both considered what they’d learned of each other.

  The afternoon passed in this quietude until F
arn awoke. ‘I’m hungry,’ he announced.

  ‘There are hoppers nearby, see if you are able to catch some for yourself. I will seek elsewhere and will be maybe a longer time away. I will return as soon as I can.’ Before Farn or Tika could ask questions, Krea was rising and moving fast towards the nearest peaks.

  ‘Do you know how to hunt?’ asked Tika.

  ‘Of course. Hunting methods are one of the things we learn in the locking bond when we hatch,’ Farn replied.

  ‘But you locked with me,’ Tika pointed out. ‘And I know absolutely nothing about hunting.’

  Farn’s eyes flickered green fire then he said with some relief, ‘Well I do know how, the memories are there.’ He looked at Tika. ‘You stay here and I will fetch us some hoppers.’ He marched importantly across the grass towards the more numerous tapisi, then slowed to a stealthy tiptoe. Tika suspected she could well have a long wait for Farn’s return with food.

  The sky had indeed darkened enough to allow a few stars to shine when Farn reappeared. With some difficulty he carried four hoppers. Tika ran to him as he emerged from the tapisi.

  ‘How clever!’ she exclaimed. ‘How did you catch them so quickly?’ She took two hoppers from one of his forelimbs and two from his mouth. He spat out clumps of fur then raised his head to its full height.

  ‘Quite simple really. I ate the first one I caught. Shall I scorch one for you Tika?’

  ‘Go on then, but do be careful, Krea hasn’t taught you the proper way.’

  Prudently, Tika moved slightly behind Farn as he pushed one of the hoppers away from the others. He inhaled deeply, and belched. A gout of fire shooshed from his mouth, searing the fur from the hopper. He turned the hopper over, belched once more and another jet of flame shot forth. He looked proudly at Tika, his eyes rather watery, as smoke wreathed from his nostrils.

  ‘Oh very good,’ applauded Tika. ‘You really can do it!’

  ‘Of course,’ Farn replied rather smugly, although he had to clear his throat for a while.

  After they’d eaten, they settled again by a tapis, and Tika asked Farn if he knew why they had to go to this Gathering. Eventually he said, ‘The memories tell me there is a Gathering around the time of the beginning of the Cold. It is when all give an accounting; new children are shown and accepted into the Treasury. If any have died, the song of their life will be told.’ He yawned. ‘They were very good hoppers didn’t you think Tika?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she laughed, wrapping her arms round his slender neck. ‘They were wonderful and mine was so well done!’

  Tika woke before dawn. She could just make out the large bulk of Krea’s body lying beyond Farn. She hadn’t heard her return last night and she had stayed awake until the stars had moved quite noticeably in their paths across the sky. She had so many things to think over, so much had happened in so few days, she hardly dared believe it was all real.

  Now she was awake again after what felt like only a brief sleep and Krea was back. Krea stretched and turned to Tika. ‘I found some more hides for you,’ she said, sounding pleased with herself. Tika wriggled free of Farn’s wing and went to Krea’s side. Beside the Dragon was a heap of material. Tika lifted it, untangling it to discover two blankets, a pair of trousers and an enormous pair of frilly underbeneaths.

  ‘Where did you get these things?’

  ‘I went to some caves above ground. These hides were hanging on a vine nearby, so I brought them for you.’

  ‘Did anyone see you?’

  ‘Of course not. We can move very quietly if we so wish.’ Krea sounded a little put out at being questioned rather than thanked.

  ‘I do thank you Krea,’ Tika said quickly. ‘I’m sure I can make something, a tunic or a cape with these two blankets, and the trousers should be fine if I roll up the legs and tie something round my middle.’ She picked up the frilly underbeneaths. ‘I’m not sure what I can do with these.’ Krea rumbled. ‘But I’ll think of something Krea. Thank you so much.’

  Mollified, Krea stretched again.

  Farn had woken and was investigating the pile of material. ‘Are we leaving soon?’ he asked. ‘Or would you like me to get you some food first?’ Tika felt Krea clamp down on laughter as she too struggled to keep serious.

  ‘Perhaps a hopper each before we go. Never eat too much immediately before a long flight Farn.’

  Farn headed for the now more visible tapisi.

  ‘How many did he catch last evening?’ Krea enquired.

  ‘Five, and, er, he scorched one for me.’

  Krea chuckled. ‘And he didn’t choke himself?’

  ‘No he didn’t.’

  ‘It isn’t really difficult to make fire,’ Krea confided, ‘but it can cause distressing effects the first few times!’

  Farn was not very long at all before returning with three hoppers. When they’d eaten, Tika spread out one blanket, piled the other things into the middle and then knotted the corners. Krea and Farn watched with interest as she slung the sack over her shoulder, leaving her hands free to hold on to Krea during their flight.

  The days passed and still they flew deeper into this seemingly endless mountain range. Krea decreed when and where they would rest. Tika had lost count of days but she noticed the moon was nearly full again when Krea announced that Farn was to carry her.

  The first take off was nerve-wracking to Tika as Farn wobbled precariously until he adjusted his flight to accommodate her extra weight. He and Krea took turns carrying her for a few days until Krea judged him able to carry the two legs all the time.

  When they landed Krea took Farn on hunting forays while Tika tried to fashion a cloak for herself with one of the blankets. She used a huge thorn from a cloud bush to fasten the cloak at her throat. The tapisi appeared more like real trees the further they travelled and cloud bushes grew around the bottom of the trunks. After they’d eaten in the evenings, Krea told the two many things, of Dragon ways, of old times, of her youth, and of her clan.

  ‘Is a clan sister a real sister?’ Tika asked one evening.

  ‘It is one hatched of the same line – Kija is my clan sister but she was hatched long before I was. As a clan sister she locked eyes with me on the day of my hatching. I was one of ten eggs, and my mother invited four of her clan to bond each with one or two of her eggs. She could not have raised all ten alone.’

  Of such things Krea spoke, many of which Farn seemed to have rudimentary knowledge of, in the memories he had received at his hatching. Krea spoke of patterns, of bloodlines among the Clans and of distant Treasuries who were connected together in the vast web that was the Dragon world.

  As they prepared once more for another day’s travel, Krea remarked that they were close to the Gathering Place. ‘Three more days and we will be within the Treasury.’

  ‘Where is it Krea?’ asked Farn. ‘Can we see the Place yet?’

  ‘When we are in the sky, I will show you where.’

  Once aloft, Krea indicated directly ahead to the just risen sun. ‘You see the line of tallest peaks there? The one that seems to have lost its topmost part? That is our destination children – the Gathering Place of the Broken Mountain Treasury.’

  It happened with no warning at all. One moment they were flying at a steady wingbeat and the next, flames surrounded them.

  Tika heard Krea scream to Farn to ‘Go down!’ He obeyed her instantly, sliding through the suddenly smoky air until he touched the ground. He stood full upright, his wings extended, the talon at each wingtip holding him utterly steady. Tika remained clinging on his back and they both stared upwards in horror.

  Two rust scaled Dragons were attacking Krea. They were fractionally smaller than the honey coloured Dragon but still they were two against one.

  Farn and Tika both received a piercingly clear command from a twisting and turning Krea: ‘Hide yourselves! Find a rocky place, a cave, not among the tapisi! Hide yourselves my fosterlings! Keep safe and go to the Gathering! Hide!’

  Farn lifted from the grass an
d flew fast and low into the tapisi then he doubled back and hovered at the edge of the woodland. His prismed eyes blazed as he sought a cave or a niche in the rock face a distance beyond. Tika’s gaze was still on the Dragons above them. Flame bursts roiled as the two rust Dragons dived again and again at Krea.

  Farn at last saw what he needed, a narrow shadowed crack in the rocks opposite. ‘Hold tight,’ he ordered Tika, and shot forward at a tremendous speed. He twisted suddenly so he was flying almost sideways on to the ground, then they were in a slit of a cave and tumbled together on the floor. Untangling themselves, they looked out at the continuing horror.

  Krea screamed in their minds: ‘Guard yourselves! Close your thoughts! Pray for my safety beyond!’

  The smoke cleared briefly letting Farn and Tika see Krea, and they saw the honey coloured Dragon falling. Falling out of the sky, great wounds gaping along her belly and flank. The rust scaled pair spiralled down after Krea, blasting fire into her body as she crashed to the ground.

  Tika felt Farn’s grief boiling towards rage and she forced him back to the furthest recess of their hiding place. She grasped his head, forced his eyes to lock with hers. ‘Quiet! Don’t make Krea’s death pointless! She has died to save us! Hush, blank your mind and stay still!’ He moaned once then clung to Tika, both of their minds blanketed to the outside world – one of the first things Krea had taught them.

  Vocal screaming cries came to them, then an eerie silence. Tika knew somehow the two attackers were still out there, searching for Farn and herself. She held tight to Farn, willing him to stillness and silence. Then a crackling roar accompanied by a dense resinous-smelling smoke told Tika that the tapisi had been fired in the hope of flushing out the two of them.

  She waited. And waited. Farn seemed to be asleep as she cautiously sent her mind out, searching for any life pattern nearby. Nothing. She realised she was stiff with cramp from holding Farn for so long and tried to ease the protesting muscles.

  Farn stirred and she murmured him back to unconsciousness. Let him sleep, the smoke was clearing enough to show a darkening sky. Dawn would come soon enough for whatever she and Farn would have to face.