Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  The rider was not one of the Jakalain; he was from the family selling Sheesha. And he was not in control.

  Either he had not seen Kantees in the middle of the floor, or he did not care. Either way he tried to goad Sheesha forwards and away from the edge, but Sheesha would not move. He used his crop on the great animal’s side and must have hit something sensitive.

  Sheesha roared—deafening to the child in front of him—and swung his head round to snap at the rider.

  “No!” Kantees had shouted. People said it was because her voice, being a child’s, was so high-pitched it distracted Sheesha and his mouth snapped shut prematurely on empty air. He swung his head back and brought it down so he was face to face with Kantees. “No,” she said again then reached out and patted his nose between the two flaring nostrils.

  Sheesha had relaxed and dropped to the floor. The rider slipped off and ranted at her for being in the way but he subsided when Sheesha growled at him again. And that was that. The story was told and made bigger in each retelling until she had commanded the ziri to lie down and he had instantly obeyed. She was given the task of looking after Sheesha even though she was barely ten years old.

  What Kantees had never told anyone was that her no had been directed at the man, not Sheesha. Because she wanted to stop him from hurting the creature. She thought then, just as she thought now, he was a handsome beast, and his plumage of iridescent purples and golds was beautiful.

  The sky had been dark for a long time. The opposite wall of the castle, where the tekrak had landed, was full of people—Taymalin—while the slaves that could do so would be watching from the windows.

  Her vantage point was the best, except perhaps for Romain’s above her.

  The ley circle was not visible even in daylight since it was behind a ridge, and the clouds were now thick and low.

  No sound accompanied a feeding save for the excited screams, shouts, and cheers of the people who watched. She could feel the time approaching. It was a tension in the air. The patterners had already declared that this was going to be a powerful occurrence and everyone who lived close to the circle had been ordered to leave.

  The power of a feeding warped the earth. She had never seen it but she was told there were remains of a castle closer to the circle. What remained of its stone walls were twisted and melted. Strange plants grew nearby, too. Perhaps it had been stronger once.

  Then the world went white.

  A column of light came into existence, flooding the world with a brilliance that hurt the eyes. The castle was illuminated in a blaze of pure white, the shadows utter black.

  As her eyes adjusted she could see the moving lines within the column as if it were composed of individual strands leading down from the heavens beyond the clouds. And up there, the light emanated from the Mother’s breast formed by the two moons.

  She heard the disjointed chant floating up from below: “Mother Earth, feed me; Mother Earth, clothe me; as the milk of the Earth feeds her children in the sky, so feed me.”

  She joined in and tonight she felt as if it were really true. As if she were being fed by the power of the Mother.

  She closed her eyes and the brightness shone through them. She smiled.

  And the light winked out.

  Below and across the land the revelries began. For some it would become an orgy. For herself, she had to deal with Daybian, but it would take him a while to get here. So she had to be prepared.

  And then she stopped. She could not truly believe she was planning to steal Sheesha. But what choice did she have? If she was going to free Gally and Yenteel, even though she felt no real obligation to the latter, she could only do it with the zirichasa.

  She hurried up the ladder, past her loft, to the old ones’ eyrie. Romain was not here because he had gone off to the celebrations, just as she could have done if she had not had other plans. The feeding did not disturb Sheesha at all.

  White light flickered momentarily through the gaps in the eyrie door. This happened as well. Sometimes the power was so great, the conjunction of the moons so perfect, that additional bursts of power—leftovers—still erupted from time to time as the moons moved slowly apart.

  Looesa and Shingul seemed pleased to see her. They made no objection when she fetched their tack from the walls and slipped it onto them. She sighed. This was a terrible idea. She did not even know if she could get them to follow her to the ground without riders.

  But it was the only idea she had. And she had to rely on Yenteel to deal with any guards—as he claimed he could—though hopefully they would be too busy and it wouldn’t be necessary.

  “Kantees!”

  She jumped. Daybian was below. He was earlier than she expected and must have been in a hurry to see her. His loins must have goaded him. She sighed.

  “I am tending to the old ones. I will be down in a moment.”

  “I’ll come up.”

  “No, please, I’m nearly done. Talk to Sheesha.”

  She tightened the chest strap on Looesa who now kept nudging her, excited to be going out.

  “You have to wait,” said Kantees. “I’ll be back and then we’ll go.”

  She looked at Jintan, the third of the set. He was significantly older than the other two and had started to lose his feathers. He had come as part of the auction lot with them. She did not understand why, since he did not add any value. She shook her head and patted him on the neck. He croaked at her and butted her with his nose.

  “Not today, Jintan,” she said quietly. No one rode him anymore. He was allowed out on a tether only and seldom even then. He must be losing his strength without the exercise.

  As she climbed down the ladder she heard Daybian murmuring to Sheesha. She smiled. At least he was good with ziri, but then Sheesha wouldn’t have tolerated him if he wasn’t. They were sensitive creatures.

  Daybian was still dressed in his finest and rubbing Sheesha under his chin. His clothing was completely inappropriate for the eyrie. He would become filthy, but it would be up to someone else to clean his clothes so why should he care? Yet if the cleaner failed to remove every stain they would be the one punished.

  The smile she had for him over Sheesha dropped from her face. There was little light in here so he wouldn’t see her angry frown. She still had to deal with him and quickly, since the staff on duty would soon return to their posts.

  “Have you ever taken part in the revels following a feeding, Kantees?” he asked. She did not have to see his smug grin to know it was there. She could hear it in his voice.

  “I watch the feeding from here,” she said. “I have no reason to join in with the Taymalin.”

  “I think you Kadralin have more fun.”

  She took a deep breath. It was her position, as a slave, to be agreeable and obey her master’s every command. But as Sheesha’s keeper she had some authority. Her word was followed with regard to his care and development. And Daybian was someone who she had to talk to as almost an equal since he was the rider. She knew he liked it when she argued with him, because being male he liked to fight for things—as long as he won.

  “You are only interested because you wish for more exercise.”

  “It is only through exercise that I win races.”

  “But there is more to life than winning.”

  “Not for me.”

  “Always it comes back to you. Is no one else important?”

  “You are important to me, Kantees.”

  “Only because I help you win races.”

  “But not the important ones yet.”

  She sighed. She was tired of his games. “I do not want to be ridden, sire.”

  There she had said it. She had denied her master.

  She half-expected him to be angry and to force himself on her. But she watched his shadow detach itself from Sheesha’s and move towards her slowly.

  “Do you not find me handsome?”

  “I value my position, sire. What if I were to become with child? I could no
t look after Sheesha, so could not help you win your races.”

  “That is a clever excuse.”

  “Sire,” she said. “You can do whatever you want with me and I will not resist. I am your slave.”

  The shadow turned away and his voice came to her more echoing than before. “I do not wish to force you.”

  No, he wanted her to go to him willingly, as if she wanted it. “There would be no force required.”

  “But would you caress me in your passion?”

  “I would not resist you.”

  “And that is the greatest insult of all.”

  Kantees picked up the shovel she used for shifting Sheesha’s droppings. As she took a few steps towards Daybian, he heard her footsteps. She had the strongest feeling that he thought she had relented and was coming to give him the satisfaction he desired.

  And then she swiped him across the head with the shovel and he went down with the slightest cry of pain.

  She checked him and made sure there was no blood. She had hit him with the flat part; after all, she felt no malice towards him personally, and she could not afford for him to die. If that happened they really would come after her and keep hunting her until she too was dead.

  He was not unconscious but the blow appeared to have knocked his wits from him. She tied him up with spare tack. He might have to spend the rest of the night here but they would find him in the morning when they came looking for her.

  His gaze was reproachful as she tied one final thong around his head, holding a rag in position in his mouth. She did not want him alerting anyone too early.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she tucked a saddle under his head so he was not too uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to do this but you insisted on coming up here tonight.”

  He mumbled something through the gag.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” she said.

  A short annoyed noise.

  “If you weren’t being dictated to by what’s between your legs, you could still be down there having a nice time.”

  Something, something, something.

  “Well, I didn’t want to,” she said. “And if you had any sensitivity at all you would have realised that.”

  Indignation.

  “No, you’re not.”

  As she was tightening the final straps, she turned to him.

  “In a few years I might have wanted to, but not yet, Daybian.” There was a grunt. “I will call you Daybian now, because it doesn’t matter. I have broken so many rules already and there are more to come.”

  She went to release the chain that held Sheesha, then squatted down in front of Daybian. His eyes flickered with reflected moonlight.

  “I have to explain something so just listen and don’t interrupt,” she said. “I was the one who rang the alarm bell when the raiders came. Sheesha woke me and insisted I go with him. You can believe that or not, I don’t care. Gally saw me and that’s all, he’s innocent. How could he be anything else?”

  She sighed. “I want to put things right. I wasn’t quick enough to save Jelamie from being taken, and for that I’m sorry. If I had admitted anything of what happened I would be killed for riding Sheesha. And Gally too, for not admitting the truth, yet he only did it to save me.”

  She stood up and went to Sheesha. She put her foot in the saddle and climbed up. After she had tightened the belt and gathered the reins, with Sheesha prancing back and forth ready to go, she turned to Daybian again.

  “There is one thing. The raider on the bell tower said something to me before he died. He asked if I was with the Dunor. I don’t know what that is but I’m going to find out, and I will rescue Jelamie if he is still alive.”

  In the dark she could not tell his expression, so she turned and gave Sheesha his head. The ziri launched himself from the eyrie.

  Ten

  The thrill of being on Sheesha’s back again was wonderful. But she could not spend any time enjoying it. She wheeled him back to the tower, not caring if anyone saw her. He thought they were going back to his eyrie so she had to force him up to the one above.

  The zirichasa often called to one another in the tower. Almost as if they were having a conversation. As far as she knew Sheesha was not related to any of the older three but they did not fight. Since Sheesha was the strongest of the four he seemed to have precedence. Kantees did not know how the ziri organised their flocks, particularly since the yearlings seemed to have no organisation whatsoever.

  She dismounted and unchained Looesa, then Shingul. They did not try to leave, but she could only hope they would follow once they were in the air.

  She lengthened their leads as far as she could and, still holding them, remounted Sheesha and buckled herself in.

  “Come on, then,” she said encouragingly as she nudged Sheesha towards the opening. The other two followed as she pulled on their reins, though once Sheesha jumped she would have to let go; otherwise her arm would probably be torn from its socket.

  It was the moment of truth.

  “Go!” she hissed at Sheesha and “Come on!” to the others. Sheesha dived out—she was getting used to that—and wheeled higher in a spiral, which she hadn’t instructed him to do but seemed a good idea. On the first turn, Sheesha screeched and the sound echoed across the castle.

  Kantees groaned. She had hoped she could start her rescue with no one noticing but there was no chance of that now. Everyone would be looking into the sky, although all they’d see was the great shadow of the dragon against the clouds.

  Two more screeches as Looesa and Shingul burst from the eyrie with their leads trailing from their heads. They moved in unison with Looesa slightly in the lead, then wheeled into the spiral and followed Sheesha as he climbed.

  Kantees muttered a satisfied good. At least that part of the plan was working as she had hoped. She wouldn’t be happy until she was away from this place. And that thought made her falter as Sheesha continued to climb.

  She was a runaway slave. She could be killed by anyone and no one would care. Many would be grateful. Even those of her own people would be grateful because she was causing trouble. By her actions she could bring down more trouble on their heads. The masters would be more cautious, their punishments would be harsher.

  And it would be her fault.

  It was too late to worry about it. She leaned forwards and pushed Sheesha out of his climb. She looked back and found the other two flanking them. They had flown beyond the walls. Below were armsmen on the ramparts, heads craned back staring at the three ziri, no more than dark shapes.

  They dared not shoot because they did not know who was riding. It might be Daybian. Unfortunately that would change very soon. She leaned over Sheesha’s neck and looked down as she brought him round in a circle. The figures below were like beetles crawling across a stone.

  The tower allowed her to orient exactly where she was looking: the entrance to the cells.

  She recognised Gally from his shuffling gait as he stepped out, with a taller and lankier figure beside him: Yenteel. Perhaps Sheesha’s cry had alerted the foreigner.

  With a shifting of her weight and gentle words of encouragement she put Sheesha into a dive heading for the main tower and its entrance on the far side of the castle courtyard. The wind swept across her face but the helmet kept it under control and, with her gloves and leather clothing—stolen from Daybian’s gear—she barely felt the cold on her skin.

  She allowed herself a quick glance back, and still Looesa and Shingul were with them. As far as Kantees could tell they were exactly the same distance from one another and from Sheesha’s tail as they had been during the climb. She turned back as she felt Sheesha’s muscles tensing up. She had not realised how fast they were going and the opposite wall was coming at them fast. Sheesha did not need encouragement in the turn.

  The face of the guard at the hall entrance took on a look of horror as Sheesha whipped round in a blast of air which knocked him from his feet.

  This was the most dan
gerous and stupid thing she had done in her entire life.

  She reined Sheesha in. His head lifted, he backwinged hard, and they landed with a scrape of talons on stone directly in front of Yenteel and Gally. Behind her she heard the other two touch down together. Yenteel’s long, loose hair was blown back and the supercilious grin he had worn in the cells was gone. The shock of the three ziri landing in front of him had seen to that.

  Good.

  She glanced around. Every face in the courtyard was directed towards them. Mouths gaped, some with fear, most with astonishment. Nobody was shouting yet, but she knew that would come.

  Gally was backing away. She had expected that. “Gally, help Yenteel mount Shingul! Now!”

  He jumped at her command and moved with as she directed. Unfortunately, that meant the armsmen’s eyes were now directed at Kantees instead of the ziri. They were coming to their feet, or standing straighter, hands moving to the swords at their sides.

  “Hurry, Gally,” she said as he went past. He had not yet queried the fact she was riding Sheesha, and getting someone else mounted was something he had done before, and therefore not outside the bounds of his experience. The next stage would be harder.

  She had chosen the older mounts, instead two of the larger yearlings, for several reasons—not least because Gally worked with them so they knew him. She put Yenteel on Shingul because she was the more docile of the two and had sometimes been used to give rides to guests. Not that they ever flew her—either they knew what they were doing and did not need help, or they were given the ride just for the thrill. And sometimes the ride was given to a wife or a mistress to persuade their lords to give money as an investment on the promise of wins in the future races.

  The armsmen were looking at one another. Clearly they did not want to take on, and possibly damage, such a valuable animal. But they had recognised Kantees, and were moving forwards—slowly and carefully.

  Were they surprised to see a Kadralin mounted on a zirichak? Why shouldn’t she be? This was the land where the ziri lived, and this had been her land before the Taymalin came. Why shouldn’t she ride?