Perilous Shadows: Book 6 Circles of Light

by E. M. Sinclair

  ‘May I tell my father of this?’ Subaken asked when Tika had finished.

  Tika shrugged. ‘If you wish.’

  They continued round the large courtyard, so cleverly converted into a garden of small intimate sections which gave glimpses of wider vistas which they never quite came to.

  ‘Do you know of the Chyliax?’ Tika asked idly.

  Then she realised that Subaken had stopped again, this time staring at Tika with her mouth open. She managed to nod.

  ‘They were our dearest friends from the beginning of time.’ Her emerald eyes glittered with tears. ‘They were killed in the first attack by the Splintered Kingdom.’

  Tika went back and caught Subaken’s shoulders. ‘The Crazed One has many imprisoned. Imprisoned but living. They helped me and my friends escape the Kingdom only days ago.’

  A tear slid over one eyelid and tracked down Subaken’s cheek. ‘Are you sure? Look, come and see.’

  Subaken grabbed Tika’s hand and pulled her, at a run, into the centre of the garden, to the open space Tika had seen when Konrik conducted them into Darallax’s presence. Subaken halted, still clutching Tika’s hand, staring down at the ground. Tika looked down and, for a moment, saw only a jumble of tiny stones scattered across the grey stone. She blinked, and slowly the jumble resolved itself into a mosaic of two huge spiral shelled creatures, tentacles waving from the wide, lipped bases. Different coloured stones speckled along each twist of the spiral, forming a pattern of exquisite perfection.

  ‘These are the Chyliax,’ Subaken whispered. ‘And you tell me some of them still live?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Tika yelped as she was dragged behind Subaken once more. They shot through the garden, through the room where Tika’s companions gaped at their brief passage, then into a corridor and up flights of stairs. Several flights. Tika panted beside Subaken and decided Sket was absolutely right. Stairs were a pain. She had no idea where they were going until Subaken hurtled them through a door and she saw the Shadow Lord and his Chancellor comfortably ensconced in armchairs.

  Subaken didn’t seem even slightly out of breath Tika thought resentfully, as she bent over, wheezing gently.

  ‘Father, Lady Tika has spoken to the Chyliax.’

  Tika heard only her own gasping breaths and straightened. Darallax had risen to his feet.

  ‘You tell me you have met my beloved Anfled, and now you say you have seen Chyliax.’

  Tika nodded. ‘I met a very young one called Corax, and then his grandfather’s grandfather – something like that. He was named Marax.’

  Darallax sank back into his chair as though a ghost stood before him. As he seemed disinclined to speak at the moment, Tika crossed to peek out of a window. As she’d suspected, smoke now rose from the low chimneys of most of the buildings in the town, and people moved between the narrow rows. Where had they been concealed?

  ‘I want to believe you child.’

  Darallax spoke behind her and Tika turned back to face him.

  ‘I can show you,’ she said.

  She sent pictures of Hag and then of the tip of Corax’s shell and relayed her memories of the conversations with both Corax and Marax. She let all three of them see her mind pictures and felt guilty as she watched their faces. The Second Son of Mother Dark, Darallax, and his Chancellor, Konrik, wept unashamedly as they saw the pictures and heard the words from her mind.

  Subaken didn’t weep. She stood staring at Tika, in complete amazement, mingled with awe.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tika waited, unsure whether she should linger, or leave the Second Son to his privacy. But Darallax drew in a steadying breath and scrubbed his hand over his face.

  ‘Sit,’ he commanded, indicating various chairs and stools around the room.

  Tika chose a low stool midway between the two men.

  ‘Do you think you could call them out of that prison of rock?’

  Tika frowned. ‘I admit I have thought about it. And I had the feeling, when they said I should call to them, that is the simple answer. Do you know anything sir, of gods or such like in this world?’

  ‘Why do you ask that again?’ Darallax steepled his fingers and tapped the tips against his chin. ‘When my brother, the First Son, became human, he was regarded as a god. He changed physically, but retained much of his power. His children became human and, after his first offspring born of human women survived, he abjured contact with me or our sister. Our sister was always the fairest of us, and her appearance altered only subtly.’

  He gave Tika a sad smile. ‘If you know how to look, Lerran is still much like my people from what I remember.’

  ‘But you don’t change your shape,’ Tika objected, then paused. ‘Or do you?’

  ‘We can change as we please,’ Konrik told her.

  ‘Gods.’ Tika dragged the subject back to her earlier question. ‘Did you know of – um – a being who collects the spirits of the dead?’

  Darallax shook his head but Konrik suddenly sat up.

  ‘Do you think she means Simert? You remember him. Always interested in mortality.’

  Tika waited nervously, but no stout person appeared in their midst.

  ‘Every time I mention that name he – um – pops up.’

  ‘Really?’ Darallax and Konrik regarded her with deep interest. ‘Do it now.’

  ‘Are you sure? He’s not always pleased at being disturbed.’

  When the two men continued to stare at her, Tika shrugged, muttered one of Dog’s more florid adjectives, and called: ‘Simert!’

  Subaken gave a squeak of surprise and retreated behind her father’s armchair. Smoke swirled rather close to Tika but she forced herself not to flinch away. The smoke rose in a conical cloud, then vanished as a plump elderly man appeared. He scowled down at Tika.

  ‘I keep telling you, I’m a very busy man.’

  He glanced at the other three people and his mouth gaped open. ‘Darallax?’ he whispered in disbelief.

  Darallax rose and held out his arms.

  ‘I thought that you and all our people were lost,’ Tika heard Simert murmur before he was crushed against the Second Son’s chest.

  Subaken watched for a moment then moved to Tika, touching her shoulder lightly. When Tika looked up, Subaken tilted her head to the door, and Tika followed her out. They made their way down stairs.

  ‘So he is of Shadow,’ Tika said.

  Subaken sighed. ‘He is brother to my father, a couple of generations after my father of course.’

  Tika gave her a quizzical look.

  ‘It is straightforward to us, but I can see it might be complicated for you to really understand.’ Subaken thought for a moment. ‘Just think of them as “sort of” brothers.’

  They reached the top of the final staircase and Subaken caught Tika’s hand again.

  ‘Do you think you could really call the Chyliax back?’

  Tika felt tired. She wasn’t of the Light, or the Dark, or of Shadow, but they all seemed to expect something of her. The two young women had now arrived in the room which opened onto the courtyard, and Tika’s companions looked relieved to see her back. She dropped into a chair next to Essa.

  ‘The – um – elderly gentleman is upstairs, having a nice chat with the Second Son,’ she announced.

  She saw several people giving Subaken curious glances.

  ‘This is Subaken, daughter and heir of the Shadow Lord.’ Tika squinted up at Subaken. ‘Tell us about the Chyliax. Do they live in rock all the time?’

  Subaken sat gracefully on the floor, legs crossed and her hands on her knees.

  ‘The Chyliax live in the sea,’ she began.

  ‘The sea?’ Shivan interrupted in surprise.

  Subaken nodded. ‘I do not know more than that the Chyliax have been our dear friends since the beginning of time. They have always been with us.’

  That phrase again, Tika noted. It had been used several times here.

  ‘They often came to the borders o
f the sea and the land to share their news and celebrations with us. My people always build near free water – rivers, lakes, the ocean. The Chyliax come to a new site and will burrow through base rock, making cellars or removing serious obstacles from harbours. They lived out of water for considerable amounts of time, but always preferred to be in water. They breed in deep water, although,’ Subaken looked uncertain. ‘You say you spoke with a young one, and they live now only in rock?’

  Tika nodded.

  ‘We loved the Chyliax for their music – they made wonderful music, and for their kindness and gentleness. My people still grieve for their loss.’

  Subaken lapsed into silence. Shea got up from her chair and went to squat beside Subaken.

  ‘We found these in Drogoya.’ She held out her hand and two tiny spiral shells lay on her palm.

  Subaken’s breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I have never known they were that small at any stage of their lives. The females give birth, to two, three at the most, and they are already this big.’ She held her hands apart, much wider than her shoulders.

  She took one of the shells from Shea. ‘This is without doubt a Chyliax, but so small.’

  ‘Perhaps they got smaller and smaller so they wouldn’t be noticed?’ Shea suggested.

  Essa narrowed her eyes on the girl. Again, Shea had come up with an idea which had occurred to none of the rest of them.

  ‘The place called Steadfast, that your people fled from. Was that by the sea?’ Tika enquired.

  Subaken shook her head. ‘No. Inland quite a long way. And far north – very cold in the winters. The river froze for nearly half the year, but as soon as the thaw began, the Chyliax would come.’

  Tika closed her eyes. She had a feeling that unless something could be done about this issue of the Chyliax, the Shadow Lord might well be slow to offer her any guidance or, better still, actual assistance. She opened her eyes and found Rhaki watching her from across the room. He quirked a brow at her. She mind spoke Kija and explained her plan. Kija paid close attention and after only brief consideration, she offered whatever strength Tika might need.

  ‘Right.’ Tika sat up straight. ‘Subaken, which water is best, fresh or salt? Would the Chyliax prefer to be suddenly returned to the great expanse of ocean around this island, or might they feel safer in the confines of your river?’

  Subaken’s emerald eyes widened. ‘You will try?’ she breathed. ‘The river. It is deep where it runs through our town, right until it joins with the sea. That is why my father chose this place – for the convenience of the Chyliax, should any ever reappear.’

  ‘Then I will go now. None of your people will be alarmed by us, or the Dragons?’

  ‘No. But please, let me fetch father so that we may all bear witness.’

  Tika felt a qualm of doubt, which she firmly squashed, at Subaken’s confidence. The Shadow Lord’s daughter raced out of the room and Tika’s company drew closer.

  ‘Where is Dromi?’ Sket hissed at her.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I asked Khosa, she spat at me and disappeared out there.’ Tika waved a hand in irritation towards the courtyard.

  ‘I think they know about Dromi.’

  Tika stared at Essa, then nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Can we get our weapons back?’ asked Sket.

  ‘Of course you may,’ Konrik spoke from the inner door. ‘Collect them as we leave.’

  Tika noticed again that the Second Son slid a casual arm through his Chancellor’s and, as she followed them through the labyrinthine corridors, she studied the old scar on the back of Konrik’s leg. She used the lightest touch to sense what she could of the injury and stumbled momentarily. Konrik had received that wound more than a thousand years ago! She could not repair something that had been damaged further by so much passing time. It was beyond her power to restore muscle and tissue that was so far atrophied. But she could strengthen muscles around it, and definitely she could ease the pain.

  She didn’t notice that they were already beginning to walk down the wider road between the ranks of houses as she concentrated on Konrik’s leg. Konrik stopped, gently disengaged himself from his master’s arm, and turned to look back at her. He said nothing, only turned again and resumed his walk with Darallax. But his head bent closer to his master’s, and they spoke quietly together. Tika hid a smile of satisfaction. Konrik’s leg looked no different, but she could see by the way he moved, that it was far more bearable. Halfway down the gentle slope, Tika saw the river, an amazing iridescence of greeny blues winding between the two parts of the town.

  The five grey stone bridges sparkled where the sun and water shot light up to their arches. It was an idyllic view and Tika couldn’t find it in her to blame Darallax for hiding here for countless centuries. She saw the people waving to the Shadow Lord, some stopping for a brief word, with no hint that he was their Lord. He was just a man in the road who they were free to acknowledge or not, as they chose.

  Darallax was leading them to the largest bridge, not the one Tika and her friends had crossed when they arrived. This was the middle bridge, whose central arch rose higher than any of the others. Clearly Darallax had told the people he’d met what was planned and a crowd of several hundred were filling the grassy area of the riverbank around both ends of the bridge. The thought went quickly through Tika’s head: how had the people across the river known? She was convinced that some at least of Darallax’s folk used mind speech, but she still hadn’t felt that familiar buzzing tingle she usually felt when mind speech was in use near her.

  Now Darallax, Konrik and Subaken were nearing the middle of the bridge, Tika and her companions perhaps twenty paces behind. Someone brushed her arm and she glanced up at Essa who had moved beside her.

  ‘The pendant.’

  Essa’s words were barely audible but Tika heard, and realised her own pendant felt warm. Not yet hot, but definitely warm. Tika grunted in annoyance, anticipating Essa’s next words. ‘I’ve no idea why. Get mine off if I can’t, will you?’

  She saw Essa roll her eyes and she grinned, then they were level with Darallax. The beat of heavy wings approached and both Farn and Kija landed further on and while Kija reclined, Farn paced closer to settled near Tika. Tika regarded Darallax steadily.

  ‘I have no idea if what I plan will work. If it does work, I’ve even less idea of the outcome. It won’t be pleasant if even a young Chyliax lands on anyone.’

  ‘Hold my thread Kija.’ She sent the thought to the gold Dragon who replied with a pulse of deep affection.

  Tika sat against Farn’s chest and sought Rhaki and Shivan among her friends. She nodded, and they came closer, sitting within reach of her. Tika centred her thoughts, closed her eyes and summoned the brief vision of Corax, deep within the Splintered Kingdom. Using a huge amount of her, as yet untried, new power, she called to the Chyliax.

  She felt Kija’s mind braced behind hers as she sent the call again and again. She was about to give up when, faintly, a voice whispered through the air.

  ‘The Tika?’

  ‘Marax.’ Tika spoke aloud for the first time, although her throat felt as raw as if she’d been screaming for an age. She was aware of someone clinging to her hands and she gripped them in return. Breath shuddered through her.

  ‘Marax,’ she repeated. ‘Come to me now, with your families.’

  Her mind clung to the tenuous link she had with Marax and her breath came faster. Tika slumped back against Farn, Essa, Rhaki and Sket immediately tending her. Darallax, his daughter Subaken and his Chancellor watched Tika’s collapse in dismay, then a Dragon bugled.

  Heads turned to the sky and a huge crimson Dragon arrowed down towards the bridge, followed closely by a much smaller grey Dragon. They landed behind Kija, clearly both much agitated. They stared back up at the sky, their prismed eyes flashing with bright colours. Specks appeared; tiny, then larger, then huge. Like boulders, Chyliax splashed into the river. Amazingly, they missed the bridges and the land.


  He felt them leaving, but he could do absolutely nothing to stop them. His body now was an amorphous lump. The pain from constantly breaking bones had sent him into this shape, a shape he usually used only when enduring the immense stresses of escaping the pull of star systems. His consciousness rested in the depths of the jelly like substance and he experienced the briefest period of peace.

  The worms with the shells had gone from his Kingdom. He didn’t know how they had gone, or where they might be. Indeed, he had little true idea of where he was. His species was, perhaps fortuitously for all others, very few in number. They roamed endlessly through star fields, rarely encountering another of their kind. They were meant to travel, but somehow, this one had become entangled in webs of power that he could neither analyse nor define. The more he struggled to extricate himself, the more tightly he was bound.

  And he had struggled hard at first, unwittingly causing chaos among the people of this planet. Only when he had nearly exhausted himself the first time had he realised there were life forms here with markers indicating a miniscule level of intelligence. He had drawn many of them within the strange intangible bulk of his space craft, but he could find nothing in them of interest. His species absorbed both nutrients and certain types of information from the stars and planets they passed.

  Quite unaware they left some worlds dead husks, having taken from a world what its inhabitants depended upon themselves. Things such as a certain mix of gases in an atmosphere, or minerals from deep within the world whose extraction caused that world to implode. But although it was impossible for him to comprehend the form intelligence took upon this planet, he had absorbed a twisted sense of how some of its inhabitants thought.

  He had no appreciation of what could be called right or wrong. To him, there was simply life, and his was curtailed, delayed, by his too long entrapment here. A few of the creatures here had impinged on his awareness, like that one who dared visit him. He was like, yet unlike, those he watched from his windows. He had given himself form and substance to match those, yet he could not control that appearance and cope with their confused mental processes.