The Cry of the Marwing

by Unknown

  ‘So . . . as you’re the Tremen Leader, and can’t come before yourself, would it be sufficient for us to recite this bonding pledge? Or must we have witnesses? Laryia and Tresen are to wed at the start of summer but I want to keep this separate.’

  ‘I don’t think we need witnesses,’ said Kira, unable to recall any precedent.

  ‘Then let us delay no longer,’ said Tierken, rising.

  Kira felt dizzy at the pace with which things were unfolding. On the rare occasions she’d thought about bonding, it hadn’t been dressed in travel-stained clothing with her hair dishevelled, but nor had her imaginings prepared her for the power of her feelings for this man. It wasn’t the ending of spring either, but then, she wasn’t in Allogrenia. There was no precedent for anything that had happened.

  ‘If you speak first, I can follow your words – unless the man must speak first,’ said Tierken.

  ‘I don’t think it really matters,’ said Kira, drying her sweaty palms on her breeches and taking a steadying breath.

  ‘I, Kiraon of Kashclan, daughter of Maxen, daughter of Fasarini, sister of Merek, sister of Lern, sister of Kandor, speak now at Turn– speak now, that I choose Tierken of the Terak Kirillian as bondmate and Shelter, until leaf-fall and branch-fall shall end all my days.’

  Kira smiled at Tierken through her tears as he began his pledge.

  ‘I, Tierken of the Terak Kirillian, son of Merench, son of Lyess, brother of Laryia, speak now, that I choose Kiraon of Kashclan as bondmate and Shelter, until leaf-fall and branch-fall shall end all my days.’

  Kira kissed Tierken formally on each cheek. ‘Welcome to Kashclan,’ she said tremulously.

  ‘I didn’t realise Kashclan came with the pledge,’ he said, bending down and putting more wood on the fire. ‘It’s late and we have a long journey on the morrow to Kessom. It’s best you get some sleep, Kira.’

  ‘You’re still going back to Sarnia?’ she asked in bewilderment.

  ‘Of course,’ said Tierken. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

  20

  The last of the ghastly parade of Shargh survivors didn’t straggle back to the Grounds until after the new moon. They bore sword slashes and arrow wounds, crushed bones from the stamp of the massive northern horses and bones broken from falls. Many of those who’d escaped battle injuries were weak from lack of food and coughed like the gurgle of streams. They told wild tales of the Northerners calling on magic to spring from trees, to raise rivers into flood and their ability to go without food and sleep for days on end. And they told of the Ashmiri’s betrayal.

  Few were willing to blame Arkendrin outright, or the Sky Chiefs, but there was bitter talk within the skin walls of sorchas, and wailing as many of those who’d managed to survive the long trek back sickened and died. Irdodun was one of the few who’d escaped unscathed, and it was his join-wife and daughters who tended Arkendrin.

  Arkendrin’s eye socket was filled with pus and he burned with fever, his ravings audible from the top sorcha. Palansa kept Ersalan within, fearing that the drift of ill vapours from the lower sorchas might infect her son. She hoped the wound would claim Arkendrin’s life, but the Sky Chiefs had already shown that they had no intention of calling Arkendrin to them yet.

  He still had a part to play in the Last Telling, Tarkenda had told her, but what it might be Palansa didn’t know. Arkendrin’s hunting of the gold-eyed creature had already brought much of the Telling into being – and all of it ill. And now the rout of their warriors meant that there was nothing to prevent the Northerners coming south.

  The notion filled Palansa with terror, and as Ersalan smiled up at her, she held him close until she steadied. Tarkenda seemed to think the Telling was like the Thanawah within its banks, its route already laid out, but Palansa believed that it was also a warning, and that to know what was to come was to be given a chance to avoid it.

  Coming to a decision, Palansa went to where Ormadon and Erlken sat outside the door.

  ‘Send Irason to me,’ she said.

  They looked surprised, but Erlken rose to do her bidding.

  Palansa wandered around the sorcha while she waited, returning Ersalan’s smiles despite her distracted thoughts. Eventually a gravelly voice sounded and Palansa bade Irason enter.

  He palmed to Ersalan, then to her, but he was so bent he was scarcely taller after he’d straightened.

  ‘How might I serve the Chief and the Chief-mother?’ he asked.

  Irason served Arkendrin, but the old Shargh had something Palansa needed. ‘You can teach me the northern tongue,’ she said. ‘And you can start now.’

  Tresen and Laryia sat together next to the owl fountain. The woodwrights had built Tresen a chair that could be carried and, as the courtyard caught the warm spring sunshine, Tresen had flicked off his coverings. But his wasted legs made him grimace in disgust. Much of what had passed since his wounding had been a blur of unconsciousness and pain, but his first glimpse of Laryia remained clear.

  Her beauty still enthralled him, but now he knew her sweetness and strength. Laryia spoke to him as if he were already recovered, as if the only impediment to their going to Allogrenia was the need to saddle horses. Nor would Laryia countenance any difficulty in settling into life there. Having been raised in Kessom, she was well used to trees, she had assured him, and Kira had told her much about the Tremen manner of living.

  When the wound ached and he trembled with weakness, Tresen wondered why Laryia had chosen him when she could have had any hale man in Sarnia – or in the rest of the Terak lands, for that matter. Then her hand would close over his and she’d smile, and his doubts would vanish.

  As they sat in the sun, they spoke of the Kashclan longhouse again, for Laryia was eager to know as much as possible about it. Then bells sounded in the lower city, and Laryia stopped in puzzlement.

  ‘Tierken’s back,’ she said. ‘He’s been gone less than a moon quarter. I hope the news isn’t ill.’

  They waited in silence, both fearing that Kira had drowned in Glass Gorge, but neither willing to say it. Then the Domain gate swung open and Kalos cantered through, Tierken handing the stallion to Ryn, and barely pausing before coming quickly towards them.

  ‘I fear the news is ill,’ whispered Laryia, her gaze on her brother’s face, and she clutched Tresen’s hand without realising it.

  ‘Tremen Healer Tresen,’ said Tierken to Tresen, with a nod. ‘I hope your recovery continues?’

  ‘It does. I thank you, Feailner,’ said Tresen.

  ‘Is Kira safe?’ asked Laryia.

  ‘She’s in Kessom and will remain there for the time being,’ said Tierken, his attention still on Tresen. ‘I regret I must rob you of your company for a short while, Tremen Healer. I need speak with my sister of matters that occurred during my absence in the south. We shouldn’t be long.’

  Laryia hastened after Tierken to the Meeting Hall, holding her silence until they were within.

  ‘Why have you come back so quickly?’ she asked. ‘Is it well between you and Kira?’

  ‘We’ve bonded.’

  ‘Oh, Tierken!’ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. ‘I’m happy for you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be,’ said Tierken, disengaging himself. ‘It means Kira’s status remains scarcely higher than a Caru woman’s.’

  ‘All’s not well, is it?’

  ‘I brought you here to find out why you neglected to tell me that Rosham spat at Kira,’ said Tierken, ignoring Laryia’s question.

  Laryia’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t know he had,’ she said. ‘Of course, I knew Rosham was furious you’d recognised the kin-link, but that was to be expected.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I’ll not repeat his exact words but I threatened him with expulsion, and he apologised – after a fashion.’

  ‘Tell me what he said!’

  ‘That Kira was like a Caru woman who had used her body to make you forget your obligations and duties,’ said Laryia reluctantly.


  ‘He’s fortunate I’m only going to expel him,’ fumed Tierken.

  ‘I ask that you don’t.’

  ‘You think these things are acceptable?’

  ‘Of course not! But if you expel him, he’ll attract sympathy and use it against you and Kira and Tresen’s people. There’s a better punishment.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Make Rosham irrelevant,’ said Laryia.

  ‘What mean you?’

  ‘Bypass him and the rest of the Marken, Tierken. Speak directly with the trader leaders. With the Wastes built on and occupied, the traders will have far greater demand for their goods. Involve them in the procurement of building supplies too.’

  Tierken frowned as he considered her words. ‘Anything else, Feailner?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Laryia, undeterred. ‘You need to consider Farid. His loyalty is to you and the Domain, but Rosham is his father. It would hurt and shame him to have Rosham expelled.’

  ‘Yet you threatened Rosham with expulsion.’

  ‘Yes, and it would have given me a great deal of pleasure. But the Tremen must gain the city’s acceptance, and the trader leaders are the key to that, not Rosham and his followers.’

  Tierken nodded abruptly. ‘I think you’re right. But if Rosham shows even the slightest disrespect to Kira or any other Tremen in the future, he’ll never pass the gate again. You can let Farid know.’

  ‘I will.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘So,’ said Laryia carefully. ‘Has Kira recovered?’

  ‘No, but Eris assures me that rest away from the effects of fighting will cure her.’

  ‘And so you’ve bonded?’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Tierken, wandering restlessly around the room. ‘It was that or nothing.’

  ‘Tresen’s told me that bonding is very serious,’ said Laryia.

  Tierken didn’t respond and Laryia tried again. ‘Tresen’s also told me that Kira’s refusal to marry might be due to her father. Apparently he was a cold and domineering man.’

  ‘And Healer Tresen’s suggesting I’m the same?’

  ‘No, of course not! He suggests Kira’s frightened of being controlled, and of marriage meaning having to stay with you whether she wanted to or not,’ said Laryia.

  ‘Is that how Tresen views marriage, Laryia? Being forced to stay with you even after things turn sour?’

  ‘If I had any doubts about Tresen’s love for me, or mine for him, I wouldn’t marry him, Tierken.’

  ‘And if I had any doubts about my love for Kira, I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me – twice. It seems you’ve been more fortunate in your choice of Tremen than I have, Laryia.’

  ‘Things might change, Tierken. I think Kira just needs more time. It’s obvious she loves you, and if she bonded with you she clearly wants to be with you.’

  Tierken shrugged and took his leave of Laryia. But as he made his way along the balcony, it came to him that Laryia was right. Everything that had happened in Kessom pointed to Kira wanting him. His eyes narrowed and his steps slowed as he realised that his strategy in dealing with her had been completely wrong. He hadn’t defeated the Shargh by fighting the way they wanted, and he would never gain Kira’s agreement to marriage by doing as she wanted – by being her bondmate.

  He came to a stop and stared down at the owl fountain. In retrospect, it had been a wise decision to leave Kira in Kessom – without him – till the end of spring. And given her need to grow strong again, an easy one. But it wasn’t going to be easy when she came back to Sarnia, for either of them, not if his new strategy was to succeed.

  21

  Miken pushed the shutters wide, letting the soft breeze freshen the closed air inside the hall. The Kashclan long-house was crowded, but the music had fallen silent as the players joined the dancers refreshing themselves at the tables laden with food and drink. The lissium garlands adorning the walls added to the heady scents of the night air, while above the canopy, a full moon sent silvery chinks to the forest floor.

  The last full moon of spring, Miken mused, his eyes on the movement of the guarding Protectors deep in the trees. Because the Bough remained unbuilt, each longhouse now celebrated Turning within its own walls. There was chatter and even laughter from his kinsfolk behind him, and while Miken knew that he had much to be grateful for, he yearned to know what unfolded beyond Allogrenia’s borders.

  There had been no attacks since the Lord Caledon had left, five long moons ago, taking the Tremen volunteers and Tresen with him. Tresen might have been dead – and unmourned – for all that time, or he might be safely with Kira in the northern city, the fighting over with and the Terak Kirillian triumphant. Or the victorious Shargh might be swarming past the Sentinels at this very moment, hacking their way through Kest’s patrols and pushing on towards the longhouses.

  Tenerini came to Miken’s side and her warm hand closed over his. They had no need to speak, for each knew the thoughts of the other. They stood with hands clasped, staring out into the night, sending their silent messages of hope and love north – to wherever their son might dwell.

  The last full moon of spring passed before Tresen took his first faltering steps. He was appalled by his weakness, but Laryia was delighted to see him walk and her encouragement gladdened him. He still slept much of the day and Laryia spent that time helping Arlen in the Haelen. Arlen’s arrival in Sarnia, along with the Tremen Caledon had commanded, was most welcome, especially as Kira remained in Kessom. The Haelen was almost as busy as it had been during the fighting. Aching backs, children’s coughs, men with sprains and breaks, and women whose babes either refused to suckle, or suckled too much and then whooped the milk back up. The Marken and their families kept away but, increasingly, they were the exception. It seemed as if the rest of Sarnia were making up for having been denied healing for so many seasons.

  Many of those who visited asked after the Lady Kira, and expressed hopes for her quick return to health; her exhaustion and consequent sojourn in Kessom seemed to be widely known.

  Wedding preparations also occupied Laryia. The next Mid-market fell too late to trade for more gowns, so she took those she’d traded at the last Mid-market to the Kir metal-workers, whose skills allowed them to draw metals out to thread-like thinness. Laryia had them fashion intricate patterns of silver into the neck and cuffs of her gown, and make a circlet set with white and blue stones for her hair.

  She had Kira’s green gown similarly ornamented with gold, and a gold circlet with green stones made. Before the last banquet, Kira had pledged never to wear metal again, but it couldn’t be helped. The Marriage Walk was traditionally led by the Feailner and his consort, and although Kira was Tierken’s bondmate, rather than his wife, it was essentially the same thing in Laryia’s view, and meant that Kira must be properly attired.

  Laryia thought about Kira often, but there had been no messages from Eris as to how Kira fared. Eris was uncommunicative by nature, especially if her words must be directed towards the ‘stone city’, and so Laryia’s only news came from the men who brought herbs from Kessom, now that Glass Gorge was less dangerous. All they reported was that the Lady Kira was to be seen out gathering.

  They made no mention of her bonding to the Feailner, and nor did Niria, who had a keen ear for what was said in the city. Farid didn’t speak of it either and, given his closeness to Tierken, it suggested he didn’t know. Tierken’s secrecy made Laryia uneasy, as did the fact that he seemed angry about the bonding, rather than glad. But she held her silence. It was for Tierken to announce his changed status at the time and place of his choosing, not her. In any case, it would be announcement enough when he led the Marriage Walk with Kira beside him – resplendent in the green and gold gown.

  Tierken spent long days in the Rehan Valley; there was an enormous amount of rebuilding to do and it gifted him sufficient exhaustion to sleep at night. Even so, he found the slightest sound woke him; he often found himself on his feet with drawn swo
rd before he recollected he was safe in the Domain.

  As well as working to restore the Rehan settlements, Tierken met with the trader leaders to plan the development of the Wastes. Laryia’s suggestion that he deal more directly with them had born fruit, strengthening his feailnership while simultaneously sidelining the Marken. And despite the occasional allusion to the ‘uncertain’ status of the Tremen Leader – the implication of which he grimly ignored – Tierken was surprised by how much goodwill Kira’s selfless healing had generated. The positive sentiments of the trader leaders might have made Tierken proud of her had he not been forced to witness Laryia’s wedding preparations. And knowing that Tresen was willing to do what Kira refused continued to infuriate him.

  In Kessom, Kira’s longing for Tierken was temporarily displaced by her anxiety about Eris. The elderly Healer had fallen ill soon after Tierken had left, burning with fever and wracked with a pain that she refused to let Kira take. Eris prohibited any message being sent to Sarnia, not wanting to disrupt the wedding preparations.

  Kira ministered to her through the long nights, but Thalli helped during the day and Jafiel came too. He was close to twelve seasons, leggy and awkward and with a dry sense of humour that reminded Kira of Kandor. He made her laugh, and for the first time since Kandor’s death, she was able to find joy as well as sorrow in her memories of him.

  As the days passed and the mantle of snow crept up the mountains’ shoulders, Kira roamed further and further afield. She came to know the high meads and to delight in the small valleys with their clear icy streams. The crisp air seemed to soak up the alwaysgreen’s spice, stirring longing for Allogrenia but sating it too.

  On one ramble, she came upon a dwinhir nest with three eggs, and returned often to watch the mated pair warming them. She wished Tierken was there to share her pleasure and excitement as the eggs hatched into clumsy chicks, and felt it a cruel thing to be without him straight after their bonding.