The Last of the Wilds aotft-2

by Trudi Canavan

  :But you’re not. You‘re a god.

  :That is true. You will have to learn to trust me. You are free to be angry with me. Free to question my will. Free to argue. I want you to argue with me.

  And he wants more than that, she thought.

  This time she felt herself flush with embarrassment, and she turned back to the window to hide her reaction from the other White. There was no hiding from Chaia, however. Another wave of amusement washed over her.

  :That is also true. I like you, Auraya. I’ve been watching you for a long, long time. I have been waiting until you had grown enough that I could tell you without causing you distress.

  This isn’t causing me distress? she thought wryly. She remembered the kisses she’d evaded. For a being that had no physical form, he could be surprisingly sensual. He often drew close to her as if to compensate for his lack of body. His touch was the touch of magic, yet it was not an unpleasant sensation.

  It’s not causing me as much distress as it ought to, she thought. I should just admit to myself that I miss Leiard. Not just his company, but the... nights. Sometimes it is so tempting to let Chaia have his way.

  She suddenly felt intensely uncomfortable. How could she feel desire for, of all things, a god! It was wrong.

  :Don’t I get to decide what is right or wrong? Chaia asked.

  She felt a tingling along the side of her face and caught her breath. It was a brief touch. She sensed his attention shift abruptly.

  :I must go, he said.

  The luminous presence flashed away. She had an impression of incredible speed, leaving her with no doubt that he could cross Ithania in a heartbeat.

  “Auraya!”

  She jumped and turned to look at Juran. To her surprise the others had gone. They had left, and she hadn’t even noticed.

  Juran stared at her, clearly annoyed. She grimaced in apology and his expression softened.

  “What is going on, Auraya?” he asked quietly. “Your attention has been straying of late, even during important meetings. It is not like you.”

  She stared back at him, unsure what to say. I could make up some excuse. It would have to be a good one, though.

  Only something important could justify how I’ve been lately. As the silence between them lengthened she realized she could not think of an excuse good enough - except the truth.

  Still, she hesitated. Would Chaia want Juran to know he spoke to her all the time?

  :Chaia?

  As she expected, there was no answer. The god was nowhere near. Juran watched her expectantly.

  He never said I should not tell Juran, she thought. She took a deep breath.

  “It’s Chaia,” she murmured. “He talks to me. Sometimes at... inconvenient times.”

  Juran’s eyebrows rose. “Since when? And how often?”

  She thought back. “Two months, and at least once a day.”

  “What about?”

  He looked annoyed. She was not surprised. He was the leader of the White. If Chaia was going to favor anyone with daily visits, surely it ought to be Juran.

  “Nothing important,” she said hastily. “Just... conversation.” As Juran frowned, she realized this had not helped. It sounded too evasive. “He advises me on the hospice,” she added.

  Juran nodded slowly and she was relieved to see he was mollified by this. “I see. That would make sense. What else?”

  She shrugged. “Just friendly conversation. I think... I think he’s trying to get to know me. He had over a hundred years to get to know you. Even Mairae’s been around for twenty-six. I’ve only been here a short time.”

  “That’s true.” Juran nodded and his shoulders relaxed. “Well. That is a revelation. What you didn’t hear me say was that a trio of Siyee have been sighted flying toward the Tower. The others have gone up to the roof to greet them.”

  Auraya felt her heartbeat quicken. “Siyee? They would not fly this far without good reason.”

  He smiled. “Let’s go up and find out what it is.”

  It was only a short climb up the stairs to the roof. The sun now hung just above the horizon. Auraya looked beyond the other White and scanned the sky. Three figures were gliding toward the Tower.

  The White were silent as the winged trio drew near. Two of the Siyee were middle-aged, Auraya saw. The other was a little younger and wore a patch over one eye. The Siyee formed a line and landed in unison. The younger man stumbled, but caught his balance. They were clearly exhausted.

  Three pairs of eyes fixed upon Auraya. She glanced at Juran, who nodded. Smiling, she stepped forward to greet the arrivals.

  “Welcome, people of the sky. I am Auraya of the White.” She indicated each of her fellow White, introducing them. The Siyee with the eye patch made the sign of the circle.

  “Thank you for your welcome, Chosen of the Gods,” the man replied. “I am Niril of the Sun Ridge tribe. My companions are Dyni and Ayliss of the Bald Mountain tribe. We have volunteered to remain here in Jarime as representatives of our people.”

  “We will be honored to have you among us,” she replied. “You must be tired from your journey. I will escort you to rooms where you can rest, if you wish.”

  Niril inclined his head. “We would be grateful for that. First I have news that the Speakers are anxious for me to deliver. Ten days ago a black ship was seen off the coast of southern Si. The Siyee who investigated sighted several groups of Pentadrian men and women disembark and travel inland. They saw the star pendant on some of the Pentadrians’ chests, and they saw birds.”

  Auraya felt a chill run down her back. The Siyee had lost too many fighters in the war. Did the Pentadrians know this? Did they think the Siyee vulnerable?

  “That is bad news,” she acknowledged. “But it is fortunate your people saw them arrive. That gives us time.” She glanced at Juran and the other White. “We will decide what can be done about it.”

  “Yes,” Juran agreed. “We will meet at the Altar. Auraya will take you to your rooms first. We will discuss our conclusions with you when you are rested.”

  Niril nodded, his shoulders dropping with weariness. Auraya smiled in sympathy and beckoned.

  “Come with me.”

  17

  Imi floated in a forest of sea-bell trees. They swayed softly, stirred by a current. Glowing, tiny bells moved in dizzying patterns around her. She reached out to touch one. The delicate cup swayed closer, as if eager to be plucked.

  Then rows of teeth appeared, and the bell lunged toward her hand.

  She snatched her hand away, horrified. A shadow slid over her, smothering all but the glowing bells in darkness. Dread gripped her. She looked up.

  The hulk of an enormous ship loomed overhead. Ropes descended like snakes, seeking her out. She wanted to flee, but could not move. Only when the ropes had tangled about her did she regain control, but by then it was too late. The ropes drew her upward, and her struggles made no difference.

  Still she fought them, knowing what awaited her on the surface. Raiders were there. Cruel, cold men. In comparison to these landwalkers, the fishermen who had caught her taking the sea bells had been kind and generous. The fishermen would have let her go once she had finished harvesting the bells for them.

  Once free she would have swum to the sea floor to retrieve the bells she had collected for her father before heading home. She wouldn’t have given them to him straight away. He would be too angry at her to enjoy them. No, she would have accepted his punishment for slipping away and been thankful that she had escaped.

  That wasn’t what had happened. As the ropes drew her to the surface she braced herself for the memory of what had come next, but before she broke free of the water, something hard rammed into her ribs. The pain jolted her awake. She gasped and opened her eyes.

  Light filtered down through a wooden roof. From the cool sensation around her legs she knew there was more water sloshing around her than there had been when she had fallen asleep. Her nose caught the smell of fresh fish. As
always, the crew moved about at their tasks, visible through the open section of the deck. One stood in the hull, facing her. Her ears registered a rough male voice barking at her. The words were strange, but she knew their meaning well.

  Back to work.

  Her hands found the bucket and she stooped to fill it. The man stopped barking. She poured the contents into another bucket hanging from a rope through the hole in the deck. Something dropped from the man’s hands into the water at her feet. He climbed up onto the deck to bark at the crew instead.

  Imi looked down. Two small fish floated in the seawater. She managed to grab and eat them without pausing in her task.

  Raw fish had been served to her many times before in the palace, but it had always been sliced up into delicate pieces and accompanied by salted seaweed or pickled kwee bulbs. Nobody had ever shown her how to scale a fish and she had no sharp object to help her. She had learned to strip off the scales with her teeth and spit them out again.

  It wasn’t healthy to live on raw fish alone, just as Teiti had told her she couldn’t live on just sweets. Teiti had always said a healthy diet was one with many different kinds of foods, including many Imi didn’t like. Thinking of her aunt make her heart ache. She missed Teiti so much. Her heart ached more whenever she thought of her father. How she wished she hadn’t left the city. She should have bought her father something from the market. She should have listened to Teiti.

  Imi worked steadily. The hull of the ship let in water slowly and the raiders didn’t seem to mind how fast she scooped it out, so long as she, and whoever hauled the other bucket up out of the hull to empty it, kept at it. They didn’t care that she splashed herself from time to time, or slept in a pool of it at night. Without the constant immersion in water her skin would have dried out and she would have suffered a slow and painful death.

  After the raiders had pulled her out of the sea they had tied her up in the open at first. The hot sun had been unbearable. Her skin had dried out and she had suffered from a terrible thirst despite the water they had given to her to drink. Pain had begun in her head and spread to the rest of her body until she could only lie slumped on the wooden floor.

  The next thing she remembered was waking up in the hull, water swirling around her body as the ship rocked back and forth. Terrifyingly loud sounds came from outside the ship, deafening her. Rain, which she had seen only twice before, and the occasional wave cresting the deck, had begun to fill the hull at an alarming rate. Several of the raiders had begun bailing out the water, and when one pressed a bucket into her hands she had joined them, terrified the ship would sink and she would drown, tied to it by the rope around her ankle.

  Later a raider came and tossed fish at her. She had been so hungry, she had eaten the scales, bones and flesh.

  Slowly she had recovered some of her strength. The raiders’ leader had made it clear he wanted her to keep bailing out the water. She had refused at first. She was a princess. She didn’t do menial work.

  So he had beaten her.

  Shocked and frightened, she had given in. He had watched her work for a time, menacing her if she slowed. Finally, satisfied she was cowed enough, he had left her to it.

  It was endless, tiring work and she was always hungry. They gave her so little food. Her body was thin. Her arms looked like muscle, skin and bone, and nothing more. Her shift hung from her, dirty and torn. She didn’t know how long she could keep doing this. So many days had passed. She clung to the hope that her father or one of the young fighters of her home would rescue her. It was better not to think too much about it, however. If she did, she could see too many reasons why rescue was unlikely.

  Something will happen, she told herself. I’m a princess. Princesses don’t die in the hulls of ships. When my rescuer comes, I’ll be alive and ready.

  The five walls of the Altar met above the White. Juran spoke the ritual words to begin the meeting and Auraya joined the others to speak the short phrase that was their part. When all were silent, Juran looked at each of them, his expression troubled.

  “We are here to discuss what to do about these Pentadrians in Si,” he began.

  “Does this mean we are at war again?” Mairae asked.

  Juran shook his head. “No.”

  “But the Pentadrians have invaded one of our allies.”

  “They have trespassed,” Juran corrected. “As far as we know, they have not harmed anyone within Si.”

  “Because the Siyee aren’t foolish enough to approach them,” Auraya pointed out. “We must find out why they are there.”

  “Yes,” Juran agreed. “That will take time. I will send the priests who have recently arrived at the Open to meet them.”

  “Priests?” Auraya repeated, surprised. “Why risk their lives and subject the Siyee to such a delay? I can reach Si in a day.”

  Juran exchanged a glance with Dyara before meeting Auraya’s eyes.

  “That may not be wise.”

  Auraya blinked in surprise. She glanced at Mairae and Rian, who looked as puzzled as she. “How so?”

  He placed his hands on the table. “We know the Pentadrian leaders are powerful sorcerers. We know the remaining four are close to us in strength.”

  “The one they call Shar - the vorn rider - is weaker than I,” Rian interjected.

  “Yes,” Juran agreed. “You are the only one of us to face a Voice in single combat.” He paused, looking at Auraya. “The only one who has faced a still-living Voice, that is,” he added. “Fortunately, Rian overcame Shar. We can’t test ourselves against the others without risking that one of us will prove weaker, and be killed.”

  “Then I will not approach if I see either of the two more powerful Voices,” Auraya said. “The weaker two should not be a problem.”

  Juran smiled grimly. “Your courage is admirable, Auraya.”

  “Why? We gained some idea of their strengths during the battle.”

  “Some, but not a definite idea. We don’t know if the weaker two were engaged in defenses we were unaware of at the time. They may be stronger than they seemed.”

  She shrugged. “If Rian could defeat Shar then I can too. We know the bird woman - Genza - is next in strength. I’m willing to take the risk that I can overcome her alone.”

  “And could you defeat them both at once?”

  She hesitated as doubts rose.

  Juran spread his hands. “Do you see the danger now? Think of our own vulnerabilities.” He looked at them one by one. “What if you were all absent, and the remaining four Pentadrian leaders attacked Jarime? I could not stop them alone. What if they are watching our movements, planning to ambush and kill us individually if we separate?” He shook his head. “When we are alone we are vulnerable.”

  Mairae made a small noise of disbelief. “Surely you don’t mean for us all to stay in Jarime from now on? How can we defend other lands? What of our alliance agreements?”

  Auraya nodded in agreement. Travelling to Si was a risk, but one worth taking. What do you think of this, Chaia? she found herself thinking.

  Juran grimaced. “Our priests and priestesses can deal with most threats. We will send them out to gather information before tackling anything ourselves.”

  “That’s hardly going to work in Si,” Auraya pointed out. “They’d never arrive in time.”

  “When we have Siyee priests and priestesses that will no longer be a problem.”

  “Which won’t happen soon enough for this threat. It will be years before any are—”

  A sudden shift in the corner of her eye distracted her. She looked around and realized the movement was not physical, but magical. A familiar presence brushed her senses.

  :Hello, Auraya.

  She suppressed a sigh. Her celestial admirer had returned, and as usual it was at a time when she didn’t need the distraction.

  “What is it, Auraya?” Dyara asked quietly. “What do you see?”

  Auraya looked at Dyara. “You don’t sense him at all?”

 
; Dyara shook her head. Auraya quickly glanced at Mairae and Rian, who looked bemused. Juran was frowning. Then all expressions changed to awe and pleasure and their eyes shifted to a place behind Auraya. She looked over her shoulder to see a glowing figure standing there.

  :Juran, the god said in greeting. Dyara, Auraya, Rian and Mairae.

  “Chaia,” the others replied reverently, making the sign of the circle. Auraya hastily followed their gesture. She had grown so used to Chaia’s presence, it was easy to forget the formalities the White usually followed when any of the gods appeared.

  The god began to walk around the table slowly.

  :As you know, we prefer to allow mortals to choose their own paths most of the time. Occasionally we steer your course, as we have a responsibility to guide your actions when they do not agree with our purpose. He stopped and looked at Juran. I must intervene now.

  Juran’s eyebrows knitted together. He looked down at the table.

  :Your purpose is to protect our followers, not only yourselves, Chaia said.

  Juran flinched. “Protecting ourselves at the expense of others was not my purpose,” he said, looking up at the god. “It is the long-term protection of Circlians that I am concerned with. If one of us dies, all Northern Ithania will be vulnerable.”

  Dyara nodded. “I agree. If Auraya dies in Si it may lead to more deaths in the long term.”

  Chaia smiled.

  :If Auraya dies, then we will chose a replacement - though I doubt we would find another so talented or Gifted.

  Despite the praise, Auraya felt a chill. She had thought herself ready to risk her life for the Siyee. Now, knowing that the gods had intended her to take that risk, she felt fear stirring somewhere deep inside her. She felt... expendable.

  Just like any soldier, she thought. Well, that’s what we are. Powerful, immortal, Gifted soldiers in the service of the gods. The irony of what she had just thought struck her. We are called immortals only because we do not age. If we face the sort of conflict Juran fears - if we must constantly risk our lives in order to protect Circlians - then we may prove shorter lived than ordinary mortals. She straightened her back. So be it.