The Cry of the Marwing

by Unknown

  But there had been no guiding hand of the Sky Chiefs in her sudden apprehension. It had been a mother’s knowing, shared by women who’d carried their babes safe within them, then lost them to swords, and to spears, and to the sly scuttle-lizard of sickness that slunk in war’s wake.

  Kira’s awareness returned slowly, the sickening pain in her head making her glad to slip back into the darkness. But then the pain was replaced by a fierce thirst, forcing her to fight the darkness to gulp down sweetened water. And as she became more lucid, Palansa and Tarkenda fed her as they’d fed Ersalan – small morsels of this and that, moistened to make swallowing easier.

  Kira’s lips were split and swollen and her jaws too sore to chew. It was like being a child again, for she was totally dependent on them, even needing to be held to relieve herself. But unlike her childhood, she was never left alone; Tarkenda or Palansa was always with her. When memories of the attack overwhelmed her and she wept, she was enclosed in warm arms, crooned to, and her hair smoothed from her battered face. And they would guide Kira’s hands to her belly, reassuring her that the babe was well. But there was one thing that they couldn’t comfort Kira with, and that was the certainty that she’d ever see again.

  Kira’s tentative exploration with her fingers told her only that her eyes were horribly swollen, but she’d known that from their burn and throb. If she could use bruise-ease it might speed their healing, but she lacked the strength to fumble about in her pack, and Palansa lacked enough understanding of Terak words for Kira to explain how to identify it.

  Ersalan took his naps beside her, and Kira came to love the smell and feel of him and the relief of knowing he was safe. They were all safe, she sensed, because Tarkenda and Palansa laughed now, and they’d never laughed before.

  Kira lay in her cocoon of darkness and thought of Tierken, for memories of him brought her the most comfort and distraction from the fear that the darkness might be permanent. She refused to think of their arguments, or of her leaving of him, thinking instead of when he’d taught her to ride Frost, pointed out the star-storms on the way to Kessom, and pulled her into the bath, laughing at her fright.

  And she let her imagination rove over him as her hands had in their love-making: through his silken hair, along the muscles of his flanks, even gently along the scars on his back.

  If Arkendrin had blinded her, Kira knew that this might be all that was left to her, but then, as if to rebuff these moments of despair, the babe would stretch or bunch into a ball, reminding Kira that she would always have a part of Tierken far more substantial than memories.

  She slid in and out of sleep, having no idea how many days had elapsed before she was able to open one eye to a slit. Blurred light invaded, causing pain in her head, but Kira was overjoyed. Blurred light was better than darkness, and could become sharper – as indeed it did over the following days, until she could find her way around the hut. But with improving sight came anxiety about the passing of time, and when she was finally able to watch the smudgy moon rise, she was horrified to realise how close it was to full.

  She turned back from the window flap in panic. ‘I go,’ she said to Palansa. ‘I go now.’

  ‘You wait,’ said Palansa, indicating Kira’s eyes.

  It was Tarkenda who seemed to better understand Kira’s urgency to leave. The two Shargh women exchanged quick words, Palansa obviously unhappy, but seemingly convinced by the older woman.

  ‘Dawn,’ agreed Palansa reluctantly, and Kira nodded in relief.

  To return after the full moon would mean that those who waited for her in Allogrenia would believe her dead. Kira didn’t want to cause them grief, but her main concern was the possibility of revenge being visited upon the Shargh. The thought of Ersalan or Palansa being hurt was unbearable, and if they or other Shargh were now injured or killed, everything she’d risked – and suffered for – would have been for nothing.

  57

  It rained that night, and drops still pattered against the sorcha as the darkness slid to silver. Kira breakfasted with Palansa by lamplight, Ersalan perched on Kira’s lap. In a few short moons, she’d be holding her own child, she realised in astonishment.

  Then the door flap stirred as Tarkenda entered, rain beading her grey hair. Kira donned her pack, sliding her cape over it and pulling the hood close, while Palansa positioned Ersalan on her hip and arranged her cape over both. Then they ducked out into the rain-drenched dawn, and set off down the spur, the guarding Shargh falling into step behind them.

  Tarkenda led the small procession between the skin huts, Kira relieved that most were in darkness, their occupants still in their beds. She was also grateful that she wasn’t going to have to scramble down the steep side of the spur and somehow ford the freezing river again. Even so, the descent was made difficult by the wet ground and by the fact that she could only see out of one eye. Few Shargh witnessed their passing, but those who did palmed their foreheads to Palansa, and stared at Kira.

  They stopped where the spur’s slope gave way to the sweep of grasslands.

  Tarkenda smiled and laid her hand over Kira’s belly, then bowed low, palmed her forehead and said clearly, ‘Shargh thank you, Ersalan thank you, Tarkenda thank you.’

  Kira bowed, touched that Tarkenda had taken the trouble to learn the phrases, then Palansa handed Ersalan to his grandmother.

  ‘I with you go – one day,’ said Palansa to Kira, holding up her finger.

  Tarkenda held out Ersalan and Kira kissed him, her throat tightening as she gripped his pudgy hand for a moment, then she waved him farewell and followed Palansa. Kira was glad to have Palansa’s company on the first part of the journey but she was anxious that Palansa and the guard stay well clear of the forest, for she didn’t know how far the patrol that guarded Laryia roamed.

  As they walked, Kira noticed that neither Ormadon nor Erlken were part of their escort, and then she realised she’d seen neither of them since the attack.

  ‘Ormadon?’ she asked Palansa anxiously, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

  Palansa pointed back towards the spur.

  ‘Erlken?’ asked Kira, relieved.

  Palansa’s face darkened and she half shook her head.

  Kira swallowed, but forced herself to ask the next question, the answer to which determined whether she had any real choice about what she did next. ‘Arkendrin?’

  Palansa made several attempts to find Terak words, but in the end she lifted her shirt to reveal a dagger secured in the top of her skirt. Then she made a violent thrusting movement with her hand and smiled maliciously. Kira let out her breath as she realised that his long hunt was finally over, and that she could make her life in Allogrenia without risking those there.

  They stopped only briefly to eat, but as the rain thickened and the light faded, Kira stopped again, her unease over the possibility of meeting Terak or Tain scouts strengthening.

  ‘I go,’ she said to Palansa, pointing to herself, then to the south. ‘You go,’ she added, gesturing to Palansa and the Shargh guard, and then in the direction of the spur.

  Palansa started to protest.

  ‘Northerners, Terak, horses,’ said Kira deliberately.

  Palansa’s eyes widened, then she spoke quickly to the guard, who stiffened and peered about.

  ‘I thank you . . .’ began Kira formally, but Palansa embraced her and Kira hugged her back, feeling the babe wedged between them.

  Palansa smiled and patted Kira’s belly, then bowed deeply and palmed her forehead.

  ‘Friend,’ she said solemnly.

  ‘Friend,’ agreed Kira, overwhelmed by the potency of so small a word.

  Kira raised her hand in farewell as the small group of Shargh turned back, then she went on, refusing to think of anything other than the fact that she was at last, truly going home.

  The rain grew heavier and Kira turned her face to it, hoping the cool water would help the swelling and even perhaps coax her other eye to open. She walked through the night, for the
re was no shelter and she had no gifan, and by the time the east lightened, she was sodden, chilled and exhausted. But the rain showed no signs of stopping and she trudged on.

  Then there was a flash of white. At first Kira thought it was an illusion caused by the rain and the rising sun, but then she realised it was a silver horse, or perhaps two silver horses. Terak scouts, she realised, relieved that she’d sent Palansa and the guard back when she had.

  One of the horses looked a lot like Kalos and Kira’s heart pounded, though she knew it couldn’t be. She tilted her head, straining her one functioning eye, but the horses remained unclear. Then she realised that the horsemen were going to pass by without seeing her. She was trying to decide whether she should shout and wave at them when they suddenly veered towards her. As they drew closer, she realised that one of the riders was Marin!

  The horse slowed to a stop, and Marin jumped down, his face filled with astonished horror.

  ‘In Meros’s name, Lady! In Meros’s name!’ he repeated over and over.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ she reassured him, having no idea how her face actually looked. Judging from Marin’s reaction it probably looked terrible.

  ‘It’s healing,’ she said. ‘Soon I’ll be as good as new.’ I hope, she added silently.

  ‘But – I thought you were with your people in the trees. The Feailner said –’

  ‘Tierken’s here?’ gasped Kira.

  ‘Yes, Lady – but he headed into the trees a moon third ago. It’s Kalos here I’m giving a bit of exercise to. You can see it’s Kalos, can’t you, Lady?’ asked Marin anxiously.

  ‘I can indeed,’ Kira reassured him, her tumbling thoughts making her belly churn. She smoothed down her cape in an attempt to still it, and Marin gaped.

  ‘Yes, I carry,’ confirmed Kira, a little thrill moving over her as she voiced the fact for the first time.

  Marin rubbed at his hair, laughed, then sobered. ‘It’s good to see you, Lady, no matter the state of your face. And they’ll be rejoicing in the north. Well, let’s get you back to camp where it’s dry and warm.

  ‘Servil, you take Kalos, and I’ll bring the Lady on the mare. She’s quieter.’

  Servil dismounted and held the mare steady. ‘She’s a full sister to Kalos,’ said Marin as he adjusted the harness. ‘The Feailner brought her south for you.’

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ said Kira, the roil in her belly increasing at Marin’s words. Of course Tierken intended to take her back to the north, she realised. She of all people should know that he wouldn’t willingly relinquish his control over her.

  ‘There’s not many of that line that aren’t beautiful,’ said Marin. ‘Now, up you go.’

  His hand stayed on her arm till she was in the saddle then he leapt up nimbly behind, delaying only till Servil was mounted before turning south and breaking into a gentle canter. His chest was warm behind her, and his arms – as he steered the mare – enclosed her with safety.

  It continued to rain, but a dark strip of trees gradually emerged, and then, despite the blurriness, she could see the unmistakable shape of the Kenclan Sentinel. Marin kept the mare at a canter till they were almost at the trees and Kira was amazed to see horses grazing under the severs and espins. They rode on and, as the canopy thickened, campfires appeared, and gifans, and the smell of roasting meat – and nuts.

  ‘Welcome home, Lady,’ said Marin.

  58

  Tierken stood in the chill air outside the Bough, staring up at the full moon. Since he’d been in the forests he’d longed for an open sky, but now he detested it, for what it showed confirmed Kira’s death. If I am to return, it will be before the next full moon, she’d written. Not that he needed confirmation – only a fool could believe that she still lived. He had no reason to linger here at all, except that Laryia had begged him to delay, and he’d agreed to, not wanting to upset her and risk injury to what could be his heir.

  It struck him that he was about to repeat history; that any son of Laryia would grow up with the fear that his uncle – Tierken – would marry and seed a son to supplant him. But Tierken dismissed the idea angrily. Unlike him, the boy would grow up with certainty, knowing his place and his future as the Feailner of his people!

  Laryia had also wanted him to wait for the Clancouncil, but Tierken had declined. Meeting with them would be a pointless exercise, delaying his business in the Shargh lands and the resumption of his neglected duties in Sarnia. In any case, as he’d pointed out to Laryia, Miken was no longer at his longhouse, and a Clancouncil couldn’t be held without him.

  Gone to the Kenclan Sentinel to wait for Kira, according to Tresen.

  Tierken’s lip curled. Miken’s belief that Kira might return was breathtakingly naive, and symbolised the weakness that made the Tremen vulnerable. It was the same naivety that had sent Kira to her death. He struggled to steady. Undoing mistakes is like trying to find the first twig in a dwinhir nest, Poerin had once told him. But he’d tried anyway, tracing every small fracture that had finally broken him and Kira apart. And all too late.

  Lamplight spilled from the Bough as the doors opened and Laryia appeared. ‘Tierken? Come and eat.’

  He turned back to the light and Laryia’s warm arm reached around him.

  ‘Come,’ she said softly.

  Miken had parted from Kira on the edge of the Arborean, but she still loitered there long after he had disappeared in the direction of Kashclan. The Bough’s shutters were closed against the cold but Kira knew Tierken was inside, with Tresen and Laryia, and that she didn’t want to face him. She hugged herself and shivered, trying to draw strength from Miken’s words.

  You have decisions to make, he’d said. But for the first time in your life, you must decide on the basis of what will bring happiness to you, not happiness to those around you. If you decide to stay in Allogrenia, then Tenerini and I will welcome you with joy. If you decide to go north, then Tenerini and I will farewell you with joy. But it is you who must decide, and before you do so, you must let yourself heal.

  Miken had begun her healing by appearing at Marin’s camp, by not hounding her with questions, by holding her as she wept and by laughing with her as the babe kicked under his hand. And he’d cleaned her eyes with bruise-ease, and poulticed the one that remained shut with falzon leaves and winter-bloom, until, as they walked in the last day, it had opened. It showed her only shadows, but she was confident it would improve.

  Kira stared at the Bough and gripped her cold hands together. She had faced the Shargh and survived, she reminded herself as she set off across the Arborean, but her dread grew as she neared the doors. She would greet Tierken as one Feailner to another, owing him courtesy as the Leader of her kin. There was no reason why they couldn’t be civil to each other.

  It was gloriously warm inside, and filled with the smells of thornyflower tea and fresh nutbread. Tierken, Tresen and Laryia were taking their evening meal, but turned at the sound of the door. Kira advanced towards them, only keeping her wobbly legs moving by fixing her functioning eye on a point above Tierken’s head.

  ‘Welcome to Allogrenia, Feailner,’ she said with a bow.

  Tierken rose, his eyes like the fire flames, but it was Laryia who was first to reach her. She flung her arms around Kira, sobbing in relief, then feeling the babe, stepped back in astonishment. ‘You carry,’ she gasped.

  Tierken and Tresen’s eyes jerked to her belly in shock.

  ‘You went to the Shargh knowing you carried,’ hissed Laryia. ‘How dare you risk Tierken’s child!’

  ‘Kira’s returned, Laryia. That’s all that matters,’ said Tresen, enclosing Kira in a hug.

  ‘How could you?’ demanded Laryia. ‘How could –’

  ‘I’m going to bathe and change,’ said Kira, desperate to escape. ‘We can speak later if you wish.’

  She picked up a bucket of bathing water from where it sat warming by the fire, but Tierken almost snatched it from her, following her to her room and slamming the doo
r behind them. It was dark but he knew where the lamp was and had it lit in a few moments.

  Kira sat stiffly on the bed as he paced. Fury flashed from his every pore and she knew why.

  ‘The Shargh who beat me is dead,’ she said. ‘He was the Shargh who took me when I gathered at the Thanaval, and the one who killed Brightwings. He hated my eyes and tried to blind me, but the mother of the next Leader saved me. My eyes are healing, Feailner. I won’t have the Shargh who helped me harmed.’

  ‘I’ll scour them from the earth! Every single, stinking last one of them!’

  ‘No,’ said Kira. ‘As Tremen Leader, I forbid it.’

  ‘Forbid it? Have you seen yourself?’ he demanded, rounding on her.

  ‘I went to them willingly; they didn’t take me this time.’

  ‘Carrying our child!’ he shouted.

  Kira gripped the edge of the bed. ‘I didn’t know I carried a child when I left, Feailner, but as I’m bonded to no one, the child’s mine. And now, as I need to bathe, I request that you leave.’

  Tierken raised his hand to remonstrate and Kira flinched. He stopped, horror mingling with the anger on his face. ‘Kira . . .’

  She looked away. ‘I’m asking you to leave, Feailner,’ she said.

  The door slammed again and Kira clasped her shaking hands over her belly and breathed slowly in an effort to soothe herself and the squirming child.

  ‘A poor beginning despite all my good intentions, little one,’ she muttered.

  By the time Kira had bathed, found some clean clothes and forced herself to return to the hall, only Tierken remained, and he seemed to have calmed.

  ‘Laryia and Tresen have gone to their bed. They beg your pardon for the poor welcome accorded you and look forward to making amends in the morning,’ said Tierken.