by Nhys Glover
I had no idea how old she was. Or how old I was, for certain. From the things she had taught me, I knew time was measured in the cycles of the moon, and the time it took our world to complete one full journey around the sun and return to its place at the summer solstice. A person’s age was measured by those suns.
So I assumed from what she had let slip at different times that I had lived many suns. All of them in darkness, knowing only what she told me about the outside world. A world I was lucky to be hidden from. Because I was a loathsome creature, a monster. If I saw the light of day, the terrified people would kill me. Monsters, abominations, should not be allowed to live.
But she had taken pity on the hideous babe I’d been and saved me from that fate. I knew what she told me was the truth because the servant who brought me food and took away my slops would not look at me. She was afraid of me. Me, chained as I was—for her peace of mind—she still feared me.
My protector came to me every day... or night. I had no concept of either, so I was not sure. When I was young she would teach me to read and write, and give me books she thought were suitable for one such as I. Ancient tomes. I didn’t need to be told they were old. The feel of the parchment and the faded colour of the ink told me as much.
When I came into my power and my body changed, her attentions shifted. It had started simply enough. Her wrist was hurt from a fall from her beastling mount. I placed my hand on it, to comfort her. But a burning sensation had skittered down my arm and into her. Jerking back, cursing me for the pain I’d given her—ungrateful monster that I was—until she’d fallen silent mid-sentence as she realised her wrist no longer hurt.
After that she brought me small creatures that were injured and sometimes near death. One actually had stopped breathing. I touched each and healed them as my mistress required of me.
Our relationship changed then. She would come to my bed, giving me exquisite pleasure, even as a part of me felt... dirty. Used. But she was certain that the milky fluid that expelled from me at the peak of my pleasure gave her back her youth. And so I gave her the fluid and the pleasure she seemed to derive from the act, and she provided me with books to read while ever my candle still burned.
One candle a day. The rest of the time between her visits I spent in the dark and in my imagination. In my mind I conjured pictures of the world outside. A world the ancient books described. And, of course, I slept.
Until I awoke in darkness and my wrist started stinging painfully. Now, as the pale glow of lamplight illuminated the small world I inhabited, I had a chance to look at the place where the stinging had been. I expected to see a bite from a groundling. There were always a few of them vying for my daily rations. I’d befriended a few over the suns. Killing them, as my mistress told me to do, was beyond me. But they died eventually anyway. Even though I used my power to keep them alive as long as possible.
But it was no bite on my wrist. A red and angry shape marred my pale skin. I knew the symbol. It was in the books I had read. A five-pointed star. The most holy of symbols. All life was modelled on the sacred five. Or so I had read. When I’d spoken of the building blocks of creation to my mistress she’d called it rubbish and threatened to take my books away if I spouted such nonsense again. So I never did. But that didn’t mean I didn’t know about the symbol and its meaning.
Why had it appeared on my wrist so suddenly? It made no sense. But I knew better than to draw my mistress’ attention to it. She could be cruel when she was afraid, and she might cut the offending mark from my skin.
She approached my bed and put the lamp on the table beside my book and candle stub.
“How are you today, Landor?” she said in her scratchy, high voice. Hers was the only voice I had ever heard, beside my own, so I compared hers with mine, which was much lower and deeper and... smoother?
“Well, Mistress. And you?” I knew she would tell me if she had any aches or pains that I could heal for her.
“The swelling in my joints is a little worse today. Mayhap you will spend more time on each. You have become negligent of late.”
I frowned. She often berated me for missteps I had not made. Her swollen joints were my principal concern, and I took my time on each, draining my own life-energy to ease her.
Suddenly her face contorted, and she reached for her chest, pressing her fist into it as she gasped.
“What is it?” I cried, jumping to my bare feet.
She tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came out. Her eyes bulged and I could see white on all sides.
I lowered her gently onto my bed and prepared to place my hands on her. But she slumped, all breath extinguished.
In my head I started to scream. No! NO! No! My mistress was all I had. Without her I would be alone. Without my protector I would be killed by the people who called me monster. Mayhap the servant would not come if my mistress wasn’t there to make her. I would die of hunger or thirst.
But worse than fears for my own safety were my fears of losing my only human companion, cruel and unpleasant as she could be at times.
I held my hands to her still chest and willed my healing ability to do my bidding.
But nothing happened. There was no healing. No spark of life!
That is when I started screaming aloud, and it sounded like the roar of a wounded beastling. Or what I thought such a creature would sound like. All I truly knew was that it was not any sound I had ever heard before. And certainly not one I had ever made until this terrible moment.
“Flea! Gods, Flea!” Zem shook my arm urgently, drawing me from my memories. Were they memories? They sure weren’t like the nightmares or dreams I usually had. My first thought was that this Landor was The Jayger, and with the death of the old lady he would be released from his life-long prison.
But that didn’t make any sense. He was a healer, not a dangerous monster. He couldn’t bring himself to kill the groundlings who stole his food. And I doubted he lived in the Underworld. It had looked too much like a prison cell to me. A reasonably comfortable cell, but a room you could find in any stronghold. And the last, most telling information of all. He had my mark. And Zem’s. He called it a holy symbol, which was fresh knowledge to me. The building block of all creation? How was that possible?
“Flea!” Zem’s tone had become demanding, out of fear and helplessness. He needed my reassurance.
“It wasn’t Airshin. It was a man. He’s been locked away in the dark all his life. His skin is even paler than Airsha’s. And he has our mark. In his mind he called it the sacred symbol of life. Five is the building block of creation, so he’d read in the books his keeper gave him.
“Goddess! She locked him in that darkness all his life and used him for his seed. She told him it would keep her young. He’s a magical son, a healer, but I’ve never heard of a healer with the ability to hold back aging. It was an excuse so she could... Gods, so she could molest him. He was barely more than a child, just coming into his power, when she started having sex with him.
“But now she’s dead and the servant who brings him food might leave him there to die. Zem, we have to find him. We have to save him!” I grabbed onto his bare arm, only partially aware my nails were digging into his flesh.
Zem rubbed my back, soothing me, as he whispered his calming mantra of numbers. One... deep breath... two... deep breath... three...
I had no time for numbers, the agony of his loss and fear were on me now. They felt like my own. I didn’t doubt for a moment that what I’d experienced was his life in the present moment. The timing of the mark was indication enough of that. Gods, he was chained like a beastling in a dark cell with a dead woman, waiting to die!
Hot tears coursed down my cheeks and stung my eyes so badly I wondered if it was left over from Landor. His eyes stung when he saw light. Was it a blessing that she’d kept him in the dark all his life or a curse?
“The Goddess gave you that vision, or whatever it was, so you could find him. He’s part of our five so we’ll find
him. Look how the Goddess always led Airsha, when she was doing Her bidding.”
“We are both doing Her bidding, Zem. Why am I the one who got the vision? I’m not the sensitive, caring one. That’s you!” I argued for no real reason other than it kept me focused in the here and now and not on that dark cell.
“You’re the air mage here, not me. I’m earth. Only air mages have the gift of Knowing.”
I nodded. That was true. Prophesy or Knowing was an aspect of air, along with all the powers that work on the mind, as well as those that manipulate the air around us. I didn’t even know I was a magical daughter until Airsha told me, and even then I denied it stubbornly. Women didn’t have magic, especially not low-born ones like me. Yet I was wrong, as I was wrong about so many things in the early days. Maybe even now. I’d been wrong keeping Zem at bay when he needed me so much, and only fear of the past stopped me from meeting my own long-denied desires.
“How are we going to find him? We have to go now. There must be someone who’s awake and can help us. Another air mage with Sight. A cleric who keeps records of all the births of nobles born around the Kinglunds. Someone!”
I jumped up off my bed and dug around under my bed for my sandals. Zem rose more slowly, claiming his breeches from a pile on the floor. I didn’t even spare his cock a glance. No, that wasn’t true. I did, and was relieved that it was larger and more... imposing in its unaroused state than Airshin’s had been. His didn’t repulse me. It was just part of him, a part that I now had a better understanding of.
Maybe we should finish what we started. Maybe wandering around the old palace looking for someone in authority, who was still awake and could help us, was insane. Just another of my impulsive actions. I could hear Zem trying to justify my behaviour in his own mind, though it seemed illogical to him.
But right or wrong we would go. Because I had to! I couldn’t let Landor die!
Chapter Four
In no time at all we were jogging silently down the stone corridor toward the central courtyard. The twenty or so airling riders had accommodation in a converted stable at the very edge of the capital, not far from the paddocks set aside for the airlings. It was not as comfortable or luxurious as the royal’s country estate we’d used as our second training centre, but it was better than where the lads had lived at the first Airling Training Centre. Neither Zem or me was picky. Both of us had lived in far worse places before Airsha and the rebellion.
Back when the Godling was ruler, there had been a small contingent of airling troopers, mostly trying to ride pinned beastlings who were half-mad from pain and terror. When the Airluds had taken over the training of the creatures, the cruel and fruitless task of ‘breaking’ airlings was replaced with ‘taming’, and Airsha’s husbands had been able to tame a few before the Airluds were thrown out for unmanly and insubordinate behaviour. They’d left enough trained men and beastlings behind to keep the airling contingent operational.
When the Godling used those troopers against Airsha, the soldiers had been either killed or wounded and their airlings confiscated. Those same beastlings were now part of the new contingent raised for the Airshan Confederacy. Together with the few airlings who had remained with their riders like Ralic, Zem and me, we were the Airling branch of the peace-keeping army.
We began to run in earnest as soon as we hit the cobbled streets of the township. The palace, and the town that surrounded it, sat on the edge of a huge freshwater lake. It was pretty and tranquil most of the time, unlike the sea I’d grown up beside. But occasionally a storm could arise that would send waves a stride high crashing against the shores, and boats could be sunk. Of course, Air Masters could counter such storms and often did.
The old palace, now the Airshan Capital buildings, was a sprawling collection of two and three storey flat-roofed stone structures. One of these had been the royal harem and it was here that Airsha had spent the first eighteen suns of her life. Now there were no cloisters of wives and children. If a mage chose to have his or her own harem, those partners were free to come and go as they wished, usually following their mage wherever he or she was posted.
Harems were never made up of mages, though. If I were to do the Goddess’ bidding, mine would be unique. And would raise eyebrows. A harem was an institution designed to support the mage in his or her tasks. A cluster of mages forged into such a bond would be counter-productive. How could we support another when each of us was in need of support? That would be the argument raised as soon as Airsha and her men arrived. Not that I needed support. I was just fine on my own. Or so I’d argued for suns. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Gods, I hoped I didn’t have to sit in on the endless arguments—debates—that would flow from the Goddess’ decision. It drove Airsha to distraction, and she had way more patience than I did.
The guards at the entrance to the government complex knew us on sight and made no move to stop us entering, even though it was late. Or early, depending on exactly how much time Zem and I had slept after our bedplay. Could I call it that when I was not... breached?
Did it matter? My mind was throwing up nonsense almost as bad as Zem’s. Anything to stop myself focusing on Landor.
How would he survive, even if we got to him in time? He’d never even felt the sun on his face. Maybe he couldn’t handle the sun on his skin at all? He was so pale that his skin was almost translucent.
Zem led the way. I picked up from his plans that he felt the best chance of finding someone awake who could help us was in the priest’s old quarters. The priests of the old gods were all gone now, though some had given up their robes for a cleric’s garb instead. So these ex-priests, and the clerics—or the ‘administrators’ as they were now called—were located in the temple and what had once been the priests’ inner sanctum. Here, the massive library containing all the wisdom and knowledge of the kinglunds was also located. If there was a record of Landor’s birth anywhere it would likely be in this library.
Zem was at least right about finding someone awake there. As we entered the huge library, we saw several clerics moving about in their quiet and studious way. Zem made a beeline for a tall, white-bearded man, whose back bowed like a crescent moon.
“Can I help you?” the man inquired, his steely gaze taking us in from the tip of our untidy heads to the toes of our rough sandals. He knew he was not dealing with anyone of importance, yet his tone was civil. I had to respect him for that.
“Do you have a record of all noble births in the kinglunds?” Zem asked, continuing to take the lead.
I happily let him. This was not my territory. Book learning and perfect grammar were things I’d done when I was a childling because I had to, not because I had any use for them. Once Mam died, I was free of any kind of schooling beyond what I could pick up on the streets. That was way more useful learning, in my opinion.
“We do. There has been an increase in the research done into the bloodlines since the change of rulership,” the cleric said diplomatically.
“How old do you think he is?” Zem asked me.
I shook my head. He’d considered himself old. But when I’d looked at his hand and wrist they belonged to a young man. And I doubted the Goddess would assign an aging member to my harem. We were going to fight a world-destroying evil, after all. Physical fitness, as well as magical powers, would have to be part of the requirements.
“Our age or maybe as much as ten suns older. Not much more than that.”
Zem frowned and nodded, turning back to the man. “We need records of births that go back thirty suns. Can we access them?”
The man nodded. “With approval. Of course you can.”
“Do you know who this is?” Zem indicated me with an elegant wave of his hand.
The man shook his head.
“The Goddess Incarnate’s own sister by marriage. The Airlud Calun’s sister. She is an Air Mistress and an airling trooper who fought in the war. Do you think that grants her the approval you require? This is the Goddess’ task we ha
ve been given.” He flashed the brand on his wrist for the man to see.
The cleric had seemed unimpressed with my position as Airsha’s sister by marriage. There were plenty of royal siblings in the government these days. But when Zem mentioned the Goddess’ task and showed his mark—the sacred symbol, as Landor had called it—his demeanour shifted.
“The Goddess’ own symbol,” the man muttered in awe. “How come you by it?”
“The Goddess Incarnate spoke of a coming disaster. The old Godling will release The Jayger, and only The Five can stop it and return it to its prison before it destroys the world. We received the brands as the Goddess spoke through Airsha.”
This Zem was a stranger to me. I knew the shy lad and the confident warrior, but this studious man was new. Aye, I knew that Zem had been the son of a noble, the grandson of the Godling himself, and that he’d been educated to assist his father in Highlund. But all that had ended when his family was killed by the Clifflings, leaving him a broken and obsessed child only fit for a madhouse.
But he’d come through the worst of that tragedy and the man he was now was... a wonder. I could freely admit that to myself now. He was no longer a featherling with a broken wing that I grudgingly accepted as companion; he was a man, confident and strong.
And mine in an entirely different way than how we had been back during the rebellion. It made me uncomfortable just thinking of Zem and me as more. This time, because I felt oddly undeserving of someone as amazing as him. Sometime in the last few suns, the balance of power had shifted, and Zem had become the dominant partner. And the woman in me was happy with that change. The freedom-loving part wasn’t.
“This is grave news indeed. It is written that, in the beginning, when the Goddess created the world, her consort became jealous of the love she bestowed so freely on her creations. The Jayger began to destroy all those creations in a fit of rage. The Goddess fought back, and eventually she succeeded in locking him away so he could do no more harm. It broke her heart, as did the way her greatest creation—man—turned against her, twisting her gift of magic into a commodity that could be brokered for power.” The man petered out into thoughtful silence.
