For my grandfather, Derek Roger Humphrey – KH
For Frankie and Minnie, my two little Whisperers – CC
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Map
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
About the Author
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
The sun rose behind Sleeping Rock and, as its rays crested the summit, long shafts of light burst across the savannah: pink, orange, brilliant white. The earth woke, insects buzzed into the air and the acacia trees shifted in the breeze.
Nara stood at the front of the house, her pack, bow and arrows beside her and her water skin hitched to her belt. She would miss this sight. Sleeping Rock would always mean home to her, no matter how glad she was to be leaving.
She could hear her father in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. Her mother was tending to the cows, milking them in her quick, orderly way, and Nara’s sister, Kali, was busy cleaning out the chicken sheds and collecting eggs to sell at the next market.
All this hard work going on around her felt like a reproach.
Nara was a Whisperer, not a farmer. She had been chosen on the day she was born, when a single white feather landed at the door of her parents’ home.
Everybody knew that Whisperers were vital to the kingdom of Meridina, that they were healers and channelers of the earth’s power, and that they had saved the kingdom from destruction in the past. But still Nara’s parents had cursed the arrival of the white feather, along with the raven who delivered it.
What use were a Whisperer’s skills when only hard work and experience could put food on the table?
Nara was a good Whisperer – she could heal, she could communicate with almost any kind of animal and she could set protective wards that kept predators at bay. But her daily training took her away from the family farm and, at the age of twelve, she still couldn’t milk a cow properly, or separate a herd for market, or plant maize that would grow in the crumbly red soil of their farmland.
Although her parents never said so, Nara knew she was a disappointment to them. It was clear in the way they constantly praised her sister. Kali was devoted to the farm in a way that Nara never could be.
And now the raven had visited their home once again.
It had come like a falling shadow, bringing Nara an urgent message from the palace in Meridar. She had closed her eyes and the raven had placed images in her mind. She saw a strange, dense forest – more green than she could ever have imagined. And between the trees she had seen the Narlaw, the shape-shifting demons she had learned so much about in her Whisperer training. In the raven’s vision they took the forms of women, men and wolves, and Nara had felt a terrible chill run through her. A hundred years had passed since these demons were last banished into the Darklands. But the raven’s message was clear: the Narlaw had returned and Nara, along with all of the Whisperers of Meridina, must journey to the palace for a council of war.
Despite her anxiety, Nara had needed no further convincing to leave. She had packed her things and, one day later, she was ready for the journey north.
She watched the morning light creep over the clefts and ridges of Sleeping Rock. Behind her, on the far side of the house, the cattle lowed and snorted in their pens – those great grey cows whose bristly chins Nara had always loved to stroke.
Today she would leave all this behind. Her parents didn’t understand the responsibility of a Whisperer – that Nara had been born to protect the wilds, and that the Narlaw were the biggest threat they faced. But she was determined to show her family who she really was, to go from healer to warrior and banish the demons just like Queen Amina had a hundred years ago. She felt a ripple of fear at the thought. She had learned the theory of banishment from Lucille, her mentor, but to be faced with a real shape-shifting demon was a different matter all together. They were stronger than three men combined and they could steal your form and drop you into an endless, dreamless sleep at a single touch…
Nara gripped her bow tightly and breathed the cool air. She reached out with her Whisperer sense and felt the world around her – the sway of the grass, the bush larks darting overhead. All of this would be gone if the Narlaw were allowed to return. The demons lived only to destroy, feeding on the living parts of the world as a fire feeds on dry timber.
Her journey would span the length of Meridina, up into the cold north of the kingdom, a place that was completely unknown to her. To where the ravens roosted and the Darklands sat just beyond the mountains, threatening.
Paws padded lightly on the earth behind her, reminding Nara that she wouldn’t be facing these challenges alone. She turned as her leopard companion, Flame, emerged from the house.
Some things are worth rising early for, Flame said.
Her words rang out in Nara’s mind and she felt comforted as Flame came to her side. The bond they shared and their silent way of whispering together were the greatest gifts Nara posessed. To other people it seemed strange and unsettling, but to Nara and Flame it was utterly natural.
Do you think they have mornings like this in the north? whispered Nara.
Flame squinted into the sunrise and flicked her long black-tipped tail.
Not like this, she said.
Nara lay her hand on the soft patterned fur of her companion’s back. Flame was slender and proud, the colour of the savannah itself.
A cool day, said Flame, flaring her nostrils.
There was a thinness to the air, the clouds gathering and shifting.
A good day for a long walk, Nara said.
Flame looked up, her sand-coloured eyes regarding Nara intently.
A long walk together, Flame said.
Always, said Nara, scratching Flame between the ears.
The sun had crested the long, bare summit of Sleeping Rock now and the savannah was bathed in light – the wide-spaced acacia and date trees, the tufts of red-grass and dropseed.
How cold do you think it is in Meridar? asked Nara.
Colder than we could imagine, said Flame, pacing a circle around Nara. They say the sun only rises for a few hours a day at this time of year – that they have winters there, and snow.
Well, I’m glad I packed my thickest blanket, said Nara. Us furless creatures have to be careful.
She had packed all the medicines and tools of her trade, too – the soft, small pouches full of herbs, root stalks and blends, the finger-length sickle with its bone handle and curved steel blade, fabric strips for bandaging, her tiny crucible and tinder.
Perhaps we should go, said Flame. I don’t think there’s going to be a big farewell party.
Nara ducked back inside the house and stepped quietly into the kitchen where her father stood with his back to the door.
“We’re going,” she said. “Would you say goodbye to Mother and Kali?”
Her father turned and looked at her with what seemed to be his usual impatient expression. But as Nara held his gaze, she realized there was sorrow in his eyes, too.
“You’ll pass close to the Rift,” he said, shifting his eyes down to his boots. “There are bands of nomads on the move there. Some farmers ran into them and their meeting wasn’t friendly.”
“I’ll be careful,” said Nara.
She knew of the nomads by their fierce reputation only. They were tribal people, herders of cattle and skilled hunters and warriors.
Nara stood awkwardly for a moment until, to her surprise, her father stepped forwards and gave her a quick, powerful hug. She breathed in his familiar scent, storing the memory away.
“You be safe,” he told her.
Nara nodded.
She left without saying goodbye to Kali or her mother, fearing some kind of argument, or worse: the stony silence she so often received.
She walked with Flame into the savannah, glancing back again and again until her home had vanished in the distance, replaced by the grasslands, the trees and the endless sky.
They walked the whole morning without resting, through long swathes of grass and keeping to the dappled shade of the trees when they could.
Flame padded beside Nara, moving in a way that seemed lazy and alert all at once. Her ears twitched this way and that, seeking out and distinguishing all of the sounds of the grasslands around her. Nara loved to watch Flame move, the way her shoulders rolled, shifting the wonderful, black-crescent patterning of her fur.
You want to race? asked Nara. Or are your leopard legs too tired?
I could win with my legs tied together, said Flame. She peered sideways at Nara, her eyes glinting.
Nara grinned down at her. Then, without warning, she sprinted out in front. Sunlight flashed and the grass swept at her sandals as she ran with long, smooth strides. Her knee-length dress flapped against her legs in the breeze. She heard the rhythmic patter of Flame’s paws behind her and, just as her companion caught up, Nara swerved to her right, slapped her palm on the fat trunk of an acacia tree and called, I win!
Flame arrived, shaking her head and panting.
Not a fair race, she said.
You never asked where we were racing to, said Nara.
And you wouldn’t have told me.
Flame flopped to the ground, legs sprawling. Her markings matched the shade perfectly.
Come on, said Nara, smiling. Don’t be a bad loser.
They set off once again, north-east towards the river towns. Nara’s plan was to board a ferry or a fishing boat on the great Salesi River, to carry them north at least as far as the Inland Sea. By her guess there would be three days’ walking before they reached the river. Beyond that she didn’t know. No one she knew had ever crossed into the north, and Nara was certain that no Southlander had travelled there with a hunting cat by their side.
At midday they stopped to rest beneath a strangler-fig tree. Nara ate a few mouthfuls of the delicious salty cheese she had packed and one of the small flatbreads her father baked every morning. Flame stayed by her side, opting not to hunt. She could go for days without eating, which gave her a good excuse for the hours she spent lounging about.
Nara held out a handful of food. You still like cheese, don’t you? she said. You must be hungry by now.
Flame peered at the food as if it were a lump of dung. Thanks, she said. But I’ll take my chances.
Well, you’re missing out, said Nara, chewing on one final piece before packing the rest away for later.
Flame stretched out and her white belly fur stuck out in irresistible tufts. Nara gave her a rub and Flame closed her eyes, letting out the soft, contented growl that was her version of a tame cat’s purring.
Under a pink evening sky, Nara and Flame arrived in a shallow valley that was overlooked on one side by a long outcrop of bare granite. It was a perfect hunting ground, and Flame slinked off into the shadows while Nara trod the dusty valley in search of a place to sleep.
Soon she found a tall yellow fever tree with a thick, knotted trunk and a dense spread of branches. Casting out with her Whisperer sense, Nara found that the tree was not occupied, which was a relief – the last thing she wanted was to disturb a cobra or some other creature from its rest. She removed her sandals, tucking them into her pack, and began to climb.
Nara wound her way through the branches, savouring the feel of the smooth bark against her hands and feet. She found several outer branches grown together at the perfect angle for sleeping and removed her pack, tying it securely to an overhanging branch. This was where they would spend the night.
Nara reclined against the graceful curves of the tree and unrolled her blanket. She was exhausted, but excitement and fear ran together in her blood like a river after the rains.
By the time Flame returned from her hunt, the sky was black and strewn with stars. Nara tracked her companion’s approach all the way from the craggy edges of the outcrop, through the sparsely wooded valley and up, quick and effortless, into the fever tree. Flame was aglow with satisfaction and, as she curled up against Nara, her warmth was welcome.
Sleep lightly, Flame whispered as she settled down. I’m not the only hunter in this valley tonight.
Nara closed her eyes, but for a long time she was unable to relax, reaching out with her senses to scan the ground below.
Nara woke and found her legs cold beneath the blanket.
Flame was gone.
She peered into the dark, glancing about her and probing with her Whisperer sense. Only then did she find Flame, crouching flat against an upper branch, her ears stiffly angled at the ground.
Nara crawled up to join her.
Quiet, Flame whispered.
Nara followed her companion’s gaze into the deep, textured shadows at the foot of the tree. She was suddenly aware of several creatures nearby. They pulsed with sharpness and hunger. Nara strained to see. There was a thick, wild scent on the air. She heard a snort of breath and the scuff of paws in the dust below.
Jackals. A pack of them.
They were a sandy brown colour with streaks of black and white across their backs, and they passed directly beneath the tree in a broad, unruly formation. These dogs were hunting and their tall ears twitched, alert for any sign of danger or prey. If they saw, heard or smelled Nara or Flame they would trap them there in the tree, waiting with infinite patience until starvation drove them down into their jaws.
Flame lay deathly still and Nara glanced past the slow-moving jackals to the nearby trees and the rocky hillside, seeking an escape route. But there was none.
She counted the dogs as they passed. There were sixteen of them, thin and battle-scarred. The very last of them paused beneath the fever tree.
Flame tensed, almost imperceptibly. For all her lazy habits she was a predator equal to any in the savannah. Nara glanced down to where her quiver and bow hung in the branches, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t come to that.
The dog sniffed the ground at its feet and swung its head to either side, scanning the darkness.
Silently Nara rehearsed the still-ward she had learned from Lucille. Only once before had she tried it, on a crazed bull that had already been penned into a paddock by a group of farmers. But even if Nara captured this jackal in the still-ward, the rest of the pack would soon realize what had happened. There was nothing she or Flame could do against so many of them.
The dog scratched the dirt at the base of the tree and rubbed its neck against the bark. Nara watched it sniff the tree trunk. It would smell them there, surely. Her pulse accelerated and she felt Flame rise, ready to pounce.
But then, with a flick of its tail and its ears flat against its head, the animal trotted on into the bush.
Nara lay still, barely breathing, until she felt the band of jackals clear the valley and vanish out on to the plains.
CHAPTER 2
The second day of their journey began at dawn. After their encounter with the jackals, Nara had barely slept and her legs were heavy as she trod through the early morning light.
Flame, predictably, had settled quickly back to sleep and she now padded beside Nara with a freshness that Nara envied.
There are tracks everywhere, Flame said. Hare, mongoose, impala. We must be close to the Rift. Maybe we should take a short cut through the hunting grounds?
Nara frowned at the idea. I think it’s better if we stay on this path, she said. It’s further to walk, but there are too many predators who hunt the Rift.
Flam
e tilted her head in silent agreement, but Nara sensed her companion’s disappointment.
You’ll find mongoose in this valley, too, said Nara, or you can have some of my cheese and bread.
Bread is as tasteless as dirt, said Flame, shaking her head to emphasize her point. You must have to swallow hard to keep that stuff in your stomach.
Nara smiled. She wondered if all cats were as fussy about what they ate. Well, anyway, she said, the Rift is too dangerous. I don’t have your speed or your teeth, remember.
Flame flicked her tail playfully. I always forget how slow you two-legged creatures are.
Nara laughed, but both she and Flame knew this was a serious point. The Rift was not a place to enter lightly. Its deep, rocky fissures held pools of rainwater that were havens for plant life. But they were also the haunts of the savannah’s most dangerous creatures – snakes, buffalo, wild dogs and even lions sought food and shelter there.
And then there was the place’s other name – Demons’ Door. It was said that the earth’s power grew thin in the Rift, that unnatural creatures could use it to force their way through into Meridina.
The path took them down an incline into a dry river bed. Bush larks whistled back and forth on the low ridge above the path. Nara glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun. There was a subtle shifting in the shadows and the birds fell silent.
Nara felt her heartbeat quicken. Beside her, Flame dropped into a defensive, prowling posture and the bond between them pulsed with the leopard’s alertness.
On the ridge, she whispered to Flame.
But she was too late. A rain of pebbles tumbled down the slope and a voice growled, low and threatening, behind them:
“Halt, Whisperer.”
From the rocks emerged two women and a man. They were nomads of the plains, each wearing loose trousers and smocks of coarse fabric dyed in earthy, camouflaged colours. A variety of knives, small weapons and tools hung from the warriors on leather straps. Two of them carried bows, which were now aimed at Nara and Flame. The woman at the head of the pack held a short sword, its sharp tip pointing directly at Nara.
Warning Cry Page 1
