by Shannah Jay
It can only touch you in this life, and that briefly.'
All four nodded, their young faces solemn. For an hour or so thereafter, there was only the sound of the deleff's feet and the crashing noise of foliage as the wagon rolled over new growth and branches slapped against its canopy and sides.
'Maybe the deleff know where the boy is,' Alaran remarked suddenly to Jiran, with whom he had become friendly. 'They always seem to know things. My brother Erlic can talk to them, but the rest of us find it very difficult. It makes you feel dizzy afterwards.'
Jiran nodded. He’d benefited most from the Minor Discipline of Relaxation, and he always looked the most tranquil of the young folk. 'We're in our Brother's hands, as the Illustrious Herra says.'
For once Herra didn’t reprimand him for the formal mode of his address, just inclined her head.
Three more times, at places where the nearly invisible track crossed another of the deleff's secret ways, Herra jumped down and set wards to hide the trail behind them.
They’d stopped talking now, concentrating only on the path they were following, as if by sheer willpower they could speed up the deleff.
Suddenly the wildwoods terrain began to change. 'This is forest land,' Purvlin said, always the first of the young ones to notice physical details. 'We must be coming to some settlement.'
His Gifts will be very practical ones, Herra thought, as will Daranna's. Jiran, though, Jiran is a mystery. Never have I met a novice like him. He seems almost a fully trained member of the Kindred already.
It was two more hours before they reached the settlement, two long hours fraught with tension, during which the sun sank lower in the sky and the danger seemed to surround them like an invisible current in the air itself. It crept along beside the wagon, it wafted inside it with every sound from the forest, it hovered beyond every bend they met.
Just as dusk was veiling the woods around them in added mystery, a light glimmered in the distance.
The deleff blew through their nostrils and slowed down, as if even they were tired now.
'There's no danger there, then,' Ivo said in a low voice.
Voices called sharply to one another as the sound of their wheels was heard in the settlement, but then the tone changed to joy as it was seen to be a wagon drawn by deleff. Several times Herra heard a call for Sereth, and when a tall gaunt woman in her middle years walked towards them, Herra didn’t need telling this was a Sister.
She jumped down from the wagon even before it came to a halt, not waiting but running to hug the woman, who clutched her convulsively, saying, ' Our Brother be thanked! Oh, Brother be thanked for bringing you to us! '
Herra was upset at the thinness of the body she held, at the traces of tension in every muscle. 'May our Brother walk beside you, dear Sister!'
The tall woman forced herself to let go of Herra. 'Welcome to our settlement. I'm Sereth.'
Herra sighed. 'Not so welcome, perhaps, when I tell you that Sen-Sether is pursuing us and cannot be far behind. I'm afraid we've led him here.'
The people who had gathered around the two Sisters groaned.
Sereth looked at Herra. 'Are you sure of that?'
'Oh, yes. I've set wards behind us that would put most people right off our track, but not this pursuer. It can only be Sen-Sether himself. Well, I can sense him, if truth be told. My name is Herra, by the way.'
'Not - not Herra of Tenebrak?'
'Yes.'
'Then no wonder Sen-Sether is pursuing you.'
'Do you have a Scatter and Flee routine planned?'
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'Yes. We dare not do otherwise in times like these. How long have we got, do you think?'
'A few hours at most.'
Sereth sighed, then squared her shoulders and called out loudly. 'Sen-Sether is approaching. Scatter and flee.'
The small crowd instantly dispersed. Some of them looked back over their shoulders at Sereth, as if expecting her to join them.
'I'll catch up with you,' she shouted, then looked at Herra. 'There must be some reason for you to come here.'
'Yes. We're seeking the child who was rescued from Sen-Sether several years ago.' She felt shock jerk through the other woman's body.
Tears formed in Sereth's eyes, and she had trouble forming the words as she admitted, 'I have failed you, Elder Sister, failed you in something of great importance.'
'The boy’s dead?' Surely not! Herra thought. She would have known that.
'No. Not dead. But - he's lost to us.'
'How can he be lost to us if he's not dead?'
One sob shook Sereth, then she drew herself up and looked straight into Herra's eyes. 'He's gone over to the Serpent.'
Herra could neither speak nor move for a few moments, then dragged in more breath and asked in a harsh pained voice, 'How did it happen and where is he?'
'It happened when the crèche in West Setheron was sacked.'
'Yes, we found the remains of that.'
'As we were fleeing, it came to me that the boy was in great danger of being captured, so I lodged him with a farmer I knew, a good man I always thought. I was going to go back for him when we'd founded a new settlement.'
'Did you tell him who the boy was?'
'No. Oh, no.'
'And does the boy himself know who he is?'
Sereth shook her head. 'No.'
'Then why didn’t you take him back when you’d built this settlement?'
'I tried. But,' Sereth's voice broke on the words, 'he refused and I couldn't compel him. He has strong powers for one so young. And - and the farmer had gone over to the Serpent by then. The two of them chased me away, then set the Servant of the local shrine after me. Petur guided them to me willingly. Oh, Herra, he’s filled with hatred for the Sisterhood. I only just escaped with my life. The Sister with me was captured and - killed.' Her head bowed. 'I’ve failed you badly.'
Herra stood rigid. How was this possible? Then she realised that one thing at least she could do.
'Did you do your best to fulfil the duties set upon you?'
Sereth nodded.
'Then you cannot be blamed. You’re one woman, not an army.' She looked round. Already people were leaving the small settlement, in groups of two or three, carrying only small bundles. 'Tell me where he is, then go with your people.'
'I should show you.'
'I'll find the way.'
Just before Sereth left, Herra charged her strictly to admit both men and women, boys and girls to the Kindred, and to train everyone she could in Sisterhood ways, whether chosen or not. 'We need even the smallest Gift aligned to our Brother's cause,' she ended. 'We say now One Kindred. One Path. One Quest. So,' she kissed Sereth's cheek, 'go and spread our Brother's training as far as you can and tell any other Sisters whom you encounter to do likewise.'
Herra didn’t wait to watch the last people leave, nor did she ask where they were going. Instead, she swung up on the wagon and let the deleff walk where they would. After a while, she roused herself from her abstraction to smile at her companions and say, 'It’ll be a close thing whether we retrieve the boy first or whether Sen-Sether catches us, but we shan’t let that stop us from trying, shall we?'
***
Two evenings later, they were still ahead of Sen-Sether. They’d neither gained ground nor lost it, probably because he’d not yet made a push to capture them. The wagon crested a small hill and they looked down upon the tiny settlement of Harralik, snug in its valley, as Sereth had described it. Few lights showed and little smoke. The deleff moved off the track and pulled the wagon to a halt under some trees.
'We can’t all go down to the farm,' Herra said, 'so I shall go alone.'
There was a concerted gasp from her companions.
Davred laid one hand upon her arm. 'Herra, no! Let me come with you, if no one else.' He knew it was useless even as he spoke, yet he couldn’t help trying.
She shook her head and slipped into the rear of the wagon, clicking
her fingers to form a light while she searched through the spare clothing. 'This, I think!' she said, taking out a countryman's outfit of baggy trousers and tunic, with a rough oiled wool cloak to throw over it. She looked up at the sky. 'It’ll rain soon.'
She changed her clothes rapidly, then got Daranna to saw off the ends of her hair in a rough cut.
Then she stood with arms raised. 'Brother, send us rain quickly. Send us a great storm.' Even as she spoke, clouds started forming.
Daranna gasped as she saw by the light of the glowing ball Herra had created that the Elder Sister's hair had turned completely grey, and her face had taken on a wrinkled, weather-beaten tone. Purvlin gulped and Alaran watched with interest. He’d seen this sort of thing before and was starting to learn how to change his own face a little. It had a lot to do with the muscle structure, but also with an understanding of how the skin grew. Not everyone could do it, even those who had been chosen.
Jiran simply nodded, as if what was happening was right, then stopped in mid gesture. 'Elder Sister, I must come with you.'
She turned, about to deny him, then she too stood stock still for a moment. 'Brother, this path is obscure,' she murmured, but nodded to Jiran. 'As rough-looking as you can, and a surly lad, too, I think
- one who avoids work when he can. You're my grandson.'
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He nodded. In a few words she had painted a clear enough picture for him to adopt that role.
Daranna started fumbling through the basket of clothes. 'I'll find you some things, Jiran.'
'Shall we wait for you here?' Davred asked Herra.
She shook her head and nodded towards the deleff who were restless and ready to leave.
'But how shall you find us again?'
'I know not. I'm in my Brother's hands now.' She patted his hand. 'Trust him, Davred, as I do.'
The last he saw, she was trudging towards the settlement, grumbling audibly about the weather and the rough roads and the addlepates who overgrazed and ruined the land for honest farmers.
An hour later, a slight lessening of the darkness suggested that the second moon had risen, but it was hidden behind the dense clouds that had brought steady rain and the rumbles of thunder in the distance. Herra and Jiran trudged on through the night. When they stumbled up to the door of a farmhouse, she banged on it as hard as she could, still grumbling to Jiran, who now seemed sulky and at odds with her.
A man opened the door a crack and Herra was ready with a tale of being attacked by a pack of Sister-loving ghouls, who’d taken her cart and all her belongings.
The man still seemed reluctant to open the door. 'That's not my concern. You should go and tell the Servant at the shrine. It's he who deals with such things now.'
Thunder rolled in the distance and rain pelted down even more heavily, sending torrents of water splashing from the roof tiles to form broad puddles between the wet cobblestones of the farm yard.
Herra concentrated on a small Compulsion. ' Let us in, friend. It's no night to be out.'
'Well, it's demon's weather tonight, so I suppose you'd better shelter here till the storm has passed.'
The man opened the door.
As they stood in the doorway of the farm kitchen, shaking the moisture off their clothes, a boy came down the stairs at one side of the room. 'Who is it, Uncle?'
'Strangers. Caught by the storm. Attacked and robbed not an hour ago by followers of those hags.
We shall have to send a hunting party out tomorrow.' He turned back to the strangers, his voice irritable. 'Come in quickly, then! You're letting the cold air and rain blow inside with your fumbling about.'
The boy looked across the room at Herra and his eyes narrowed, as if he sensed something strange about her.
Herra stared back. This was he! Petur. She knew that in her very bones, had no need to see the crescent-shaped birth mark on his right hip, no need to search for a resemblance to his father, Danver.
It was as if they were all frozen, as if time itself had hesitated, waiting for the outcome of this encounter. Slowly the boy raised his hand, pointed one finger at Herra and called, 'They lie! I can see that they lie!'
'What!' The farmer turned on Herra, already trying to push her outside.
The boy seemed near crazed. 'I can see it! I can. That's not a man - it's a woman - a Sister hag.' He rushed to snatch a kitchen knife from the rack on the wall, screaming abuse, his face contorted with fury.
It was a moment before Herra could think or move, so shocked was she by the boy's reaction to her. Then she flicked a finger to still the farmer, and turned her powers on to the boy.
But the son of Danver the Gentle and Shiaran the Beautiful carried many Gifts in his small body, and was slowed only a little by the Compulsion. His rush slowed down, but his feet still moved across the room towards Herra and he continued to brandish the knife, albeit more slowly now.
She pointed one finger and the metal blade splintered into a hundred shards that tinkled to the floor.
Shouts from upstairs warned of others approaching.
The boy tried to move away, but Herra's finger still pointed at him and with agonising slowness he keeled over. He lay there helpless, but not unconscious as he should have been under that Compulsion.
His eyes were filled with hatred and his lips were trying to form a curse.
'Quickly, Elder Sister,' Jiran breathed in her ear, for Herra was standing motionless, horror still coursing through her at what had happened to Petur.
Jiran's words were all she needed to pull herself together. She gathered her forces, picked up the boy and with him draped across her shoulders, led the way out into what was surely the wildest of nights.
Rain lashed down on them, mingling with the tears on Herra's cheeks, and thunder boomed around them, drowning out the sounds of their flight. Once a tree only a dozen paces away was struck by lightning and they had to run to avoid the smouldering fragments that were cast outwards by its death throes. The acrid smell of damp burning wood followed them through the undergrowth for a time.
By now Herra was panting, for the boy was well grown for his age and heavy. She knew he was conscious, because sometimes in a flash of lightning, she would look sideways and shudder at the hatred in his eyes.
'Let me carry him,' Jiran said. 'I'm stronger than I look and our Brother is with me tonight.'
Numbly she handed the boy over and when he tried to wriggle out of Jiran's arms, she renewed her Compulsion and he was once again held immobile. But his eyes weren’t held, and they continued to follow her, as did his hatred.
'Do you know where the others are?' Jiran asked.
'No.'
'Where are we going, then?'
She shook her head. 'I know not. Anywhere away from the farm. Away from Sen-Sether, too. We're completely in our Brother's hands tonight, Jiran.'
'So be it.' His voice was as calm as hers.
A few more minutes and they had to rest, the boy lying between them on the wet ground.
'Why do you hate us so?' Herra demanded, releasing the boy enough for him to speak.
'I hate all Sisters! When I'm old enough, I'm going to kill one all by myself.'
She couldn’t hide her dismay at his words.
He laughed. 'You wait, Sister hag! Virath is my friend. He'll come after me. Then you'll be in trouble.'
'The farmer?'
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'Not that old fool. Virath. Servant of the shrine in Harralik. I'm going to be an Initiate one day.
Virath’s promised to train me when I'm old enough. I help him keep the shrine clean. The incense makes me sick, but he says I'll get used to that. And by the time I'm grown up, hags like you will all be dead.'
Jiran was unable to bear this any longer. 'Mind how you speak to the Sister!'
'I'll say what I like. And you can't stop me. Only she can with her perverted magic.'
Herra could have broken down and wept at the way the child talked,
but she wouldn’t allow herself that indulgence. When they got to the High Alder, she would find some way to cure Petur of the evil that had tainted him. In the meantime, they didn’t dare spend any more time resting, but must move on. She decided to push deep into the wildwoods. Maybe they could find their companions and the deleff again. Or maybe they could find a portal themselves. Or at the very least they might be able to avoid Sen-Sether. Somehow they would surely escape. Somehow.
And so they plodded on through a long chill night, resting, then pressing on, resting again when their limbs grew too weary. They took it in turns to carry the boy who would not, for all Herra's Compulsions, move a single step on his own.
Petur's father would weep to see him, she thought, for she knew Danver was still alive and still free of the taint of the Serpent, for all his frailty. Those she trusted had seen Sen-Sether parade his drugged brother in a litter through the city of Setherak at the annual Great Sacrifice, and they’d been able to tell that Danver hadn’t gone over to the Serpent. Sen-Sether had taken his brother, the Lord Claimant of Setheron, right into the Shrine, too, though in that state, after the years of subtle poisoning that had so weakened his body, Danver couldn’t have participated in the ceremonies even if he'd wanted to.
What had amazed all of them in the Sisterhood was that Sen-Sether hadn’t killed Danver outright.
But something seemed to hold him back from fratricide. Not hatred of the crime, for no crime was too heinous for what Sen-Sether had become. No, it was something else that was keeping Danver alive.
Let it continue, Herra prayed at the thought, as she had prayed before. Brother, look down upon Danver.
***
In the opposite direction to that Herra was taking, the deleff tramped forward through the storm, and when they came to a pool, it was a moment before Davred realised what was happening, for in the stormy darkness he hadn’t immediately noticed the water.
As the wagon rolled forward into the shallows, he stood up on the driving seat. 'No!' he yelled. 'No, stop! We must wait for Herra.' But even as he spoke, the disorientation of the portal caught him and he fell back on the bench. He could do nothing until they splashed out on the other side of the portal into a world where the two moons shone down upon a scene of great tranquility. It was such a shock after the violence of the storm that no one moved for a moment.
