Night Birds' Reign

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Night Birds' Reign Page 44

by Holly Taylor


  Gwydion turned and stepped out of the tomb. At his gesture, the stone door closed, shutting with a finality that would echo in his lonely heart for years to come.

  Glossary

  Addiendydd: sixth day of the week

  aderyn: birds

  aethnen: aspen tree; sacred to Ederynion

  alarch: swan; the symbol of the royal house of Ederynion

  alban: light; any one of the four solar festivals

  Alban Awyr: festival honoring Taran; Spring Equinox

  Alban Haf: festival honoring Modron; Summer Solstice

  Alban Nerth: festival honoring Agrona and Camulos; Autumnal Equinox

  Alban Nos: festival honoring Sirona and Grannos; the Winter Solstice

  ap: son of

  ar: high

  Archdruid: leader of the Druids, must be a descendent of Llyr

  Arderydd: high eagle; symbol of the High Kings

  Ardewin: leader of the Dewin, must be a descendent of Llyr

  arymes: prophecy

  Awenyddion: dreamer (see Dreamer)

  awyr: air

  bach: boy

  Bard: a telepath; they are musicians, poets, and arbiters of the law in matters of inheritance, marriage, and divorce; Bards can Far-Sense and Wind-Speak; they revere the god Taran, King of the Winds

  bedwen: birch tree; sacred to the Bards

  Bedwen Mis: birch month; roughly corresponds to March

  blaid: wolf; the symbol of the royal house of Prydyn

  bran: raven; the symbol of the Dreamers

  Brenin: high or noble one; the High King; acts as an amplifier for the Y Dawnus

  buarth: circle

  cad: battle

  cadair: chair (of state)

  caer: fortress

  calan: first day; any one of the four fire festivals

  Calan Gaef: festival honoring Annwyn and Aertan

  Calan Llachar: festival honoring Cerridwen and Cerrunnos

  Calan Morynion: festival honoring Nantsovelta

  Calan Olau: festival honoring Mabon

  cantref: a large division of land for administrative purposes; two to three commotes make up a cantref; a cantref is ruled by a Lord or Lady

  canu: song

  cariad: beloved

  celynnen: holly

  Celynnen Mis: holly month; roughly corresponds to late May/early June

  cenedl: clan

  cerdinen: rowan tree; sacred to the Dreamers

  Cerdinen Mis: rowan month; roughly corresponds to July

  cleddyf: sword

  collen: hazel tree; sacred to Prydyn

  Collen Mis: hazel month; roughly corresponds to October

  commote: a small division of land for administrative purposes; two or three commotes make up a cantref; a commote is ruled by a Gwarda

  coed: forest, wood

  Cynyddu: increase; the time when the moon is waxing

  Da: father dan: fire

  derwen: oak tree; sacred to the Druids

  Derwen Mis: oak month; roughly corresponds to December

  Dewin: a clairvoyant; they are physicians; they can Life-Read and Wind-Ride; they revere the goddess Nantsovelta, Lady of the Moon

  Disglair: bright; the time when the moon is full

  draig: dragon; the symbol of the Dewin

  draenenwen: hawthorn tree; sacred to Rheged

  Draenenwen Mis: hawthorn month; roughly corresponds to late June/early July

  Dreamer: a descendent of Llyr who has precognitive abilities; the Dreamer can Dream-Speak and Time-Walk; the Dreamer also has the other three gifts—telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychokinesis; there is only one Dreamer in a generation; they revere the god Mabon, King of Fire

  Dream-Speaking: precognitive dreams; one of the Dreamer’s gifts

  Druid: a psychokinetic; they are astronomers, scientists, and lead all festivals; they can Shape-Move, Fire-Weave, and, in partnership with the High King, Storm-Bring; they revere the goddess Modron, the Great Mother of All

  drwys: doors

  dwfr: water

  dwyvach-breichled: goddess-bracelet; bracelet made of oak used by Druids

  eiddew: ivy

  Eiddew Mis: ivy month; roughly corresponds to April

  enaid-dal: soul-catcher; lead collars that prevent Y Dawnus from using their gifts

  eos: nightingale; the symbol of the Bards

  erias: fire

  erydd: eagle

  Far-Sensing: the telepathic ability to communicate with animals

  ffynidwydden: fir tree; sacred to the High Kings

  Fire-Weaving: the psychokinetic ability to light fires

  gaef: winter

  galanas: blood price

  galor: mourning, sorrow

  goddeau: trees

  gorsedd: a gathering (of Bards)

  greu: blood

  Gwaithdydd: third day of the week

  gwarchan: incantation

  Gwarda: ruler of a commote

  gwernan: alder tree; sacred to Gwynedd

  Gwernan Mis: alder month; roughly corresponds to late April/ early May

  gwinydden: vine

  Gwinydden: vine month; roughly corresponds to August

  Gwlad Yr Haf: the Land of Summer; the Otherworld

  gwydd: knowledge

  gwyn: white

  gwynt: wind

  Gwyntdydd: fifth day of the week

  gwyr: seeker

  haf: summer

  hebog: hawk; the symbol of the royal house of Gwynedd

  helygen: willow

  Helygen Mis: willow month; roughly corresponds to January

  honneit: spear

  Life-Reading: the clairvoyant ability to lay hands on a patient and determine the nature of their ailment

  llachar: bright

  llech: stone

  Lleihau: to diminish; the time when the moon is waning

  lleu: lion

  Llundydd: second day of the week

  llyfr: book

  llyn: lake llys: court

  Lord/Lady: ruler of a cantref

  Mam: mother

  march: horse; the symbol of the royal house of Rheged

  Master Bard: leader of the Bards, must be a descendent of Llyr

  Meirgdydd: fourth day of the week

  meirig: guardian

  Meriwydd: seventh day of the week

  mis: month

  morynion: maiden

  mwg-breudduyd: smoke-dream; a method Dreamers can use to induce dreams

  mynydd: mountain

  mynyddoedd: mountains

  naid: leap

  nemed: shrine, a sacred grove

  nerth: strength

  neuadd: hall

  niam-lann: a jeweled metallic headpiece, worn by ladies of rank

  nos: night

  ogaf: cave olau: fair

  onnen: ash tree; sacred to the Dewin

  Onnen Mis: ash month; roughly corresponds to February

  pair: cauldron

  pen: head of

  Plentyn Prawf: child test; the testing of children, performed by the Bards, to determine if they are Y Dawnus

  rhyfelwr: warrior

  sarn: road

  Shape-Moving: the psychokinetic ability to move objects

  Storm-Bringing: the psychokinetic ability to control certain weather conditions; only effective in partnership with the High King

  Suldydd: first day of the week

  tarbell: a board game, similar to chess

  tarw: bull; the symbol of the Druids

  tarw-casgliad: the ceremony where Druids invite a dream from Modron

  telyn: harp

  teulu: warband

  Time-Walking: the ability to see events in the past; one of the Dreamer’s gifts

  tir: earth

  triskele: the crystal medallion used by Dewin

  ty: house

  tynge tynghed: the swearing of a destiny

  Tynged Mawr: great fate; the test to determine a High King

  Tywyllu: dark; the time when the mo
on is new

  ur: daughter of

  var: out of

  Wind-Riding: the clairvoyant ability of astral projection

  Wind-Speaking: the telepathic ability to communicate with other humans

  wythnos: week

  yned: justice

  Y Dawnus: the gifted; a Druid, Bard, Dewin, or Dreamer

  ysgawen: elder

  Ysgawen Mis: elder month; roughly corresponds to September

  ystafell: the Ruler’s chambers

  ywen: yew

  Ywen Mis : yew month; roughly corresponds to November

  A Special Preview of Memories of Empire

  by Django Wexler

  Chapter 1

  “The fundamental flaw in their culture is a certain stubbornness, a continued resistance to the world as it is. The clearest example is their religion, worshipping ghosts six thousand years dead, but this trait runs throughout their entire culture. It makes them fearsome in times of strength but pathetic in times of weakness, and it leaves them unable or unwilling to adapt to changing conditions . . .”

  –Kabiru Shun, The Fall of the Sixth Dynasty

  THERE’S ALWAYS ONE perfect moment, when the mind has just awoken and consciousness has yet to fully engage—still half-wrapped in dream, eyes open but uncomprehending, until the weight of the world crashes down with all its harsh reality. That moment, Veil had decided, was something to be savored. It slipped away all too quickly. The very act of thinking about it kicked her mind into action, and what had been mere patterns of light and shadow resolved into familiar objects. She managed one clean breath, held it for one perfect moment.

  Then memory returned, and Veil settled in for a nice long scream.

  ONE MAN. IT didn’t seem possible.

  The scream was very uncharacteristic of Veil. She was not, as a rule, a person who screamed or cried or threw tantrums. Growing up in Kalil’s massive household had taught her a number of important lessons about life, and not the least of these was that screaming and crying rarely accomplished anything.

  But, in this case, she felt she deserved a good scream. It helped to burn off tension, that was the main thing, And, once she was done, she was able to look at the situation with a great deal more equanimity. Under other circumstances she might have been worried about her reputation, but since there wasn’t another human being for at least fifty miles in any direction that was also not a concern.

  The sun was up, having just cleared the eastern horizon, and was beginning to make itself felt. The day promised to be a scorcher—the sky was blue from edge to edge, not even a wisp of cloud to blunt the heat. Veil could feel the sand, gritty and cold against her back, but already starting to drink in the sun’s rays. In a few hours it would be too hot to touch.

  Mahmata lay on top of her, and blood from the wound in the fat woman’s belly had crusted over Veil’s legs. Once she was done screaming, Veil set about freeing herself. This took some time, since Mahmata was quite fat and Veil might have described herself, charitably, as ‘wiry.’ Eventually, though, she managed to wriggle out from underneath the corpse and survey what was left of the camp.

  Most of Bali’s men were sprawled on a blood-soaked stretch of sand halfway to the bluff. Low as it was, it was the only decent shade for miles; it was no surprise they’d run into someone. That was where they’d confronted the stranger, and it didn’t look like any of them had gotten more than two steps. Veil wandered over to inspect them, in a stunned state of idle curiosity. Dead bodies didn’t bother her—the spirits were gone, after all, settling into the Aether or snapped up as food for something bigger and meaner.

  So what was left to be afraid of? They were all dead—seven men. Vosh, who’d boasted so around the campfire, hadn’t even gotten his sword out of its scabbard. Vosh had voted to pass Veil around at night, as a kind of bonus for the guards. Thankfully Bali had overruled him—apparently her virginity was worth more than a sellsword could offer—but Veil gave Vosh’s corpse a kick anyway and felt a little better.

  The other slaves had died, too, tied together and unable to even run. Veil hadn’t known the pair of dark-skinned aborigines very well, since they spoke no Imperial and only a few broken words of Khaev, but fair-haired Silel had come from a clan to the west of Kalil’s. Veil had gotten to know her in a month of traveling—a pretty, empty-headed thing. It was no wonder her father had gotten rid of her; still, she hadn’t deserved to be slashed open like a Mourning fowl, spilling purple and black on the sands. Veil looked at her a moment, and shook her head. In clan lands the corpse would already be covered with flies, or torn apart by coyotes, but nothing lived in the high desert. Not even insects.

  Bali, himself, had gotten the farthest. She assumed he’d started to run as soon as his sellswords started falling like trees in a sandstorm, but he’d made the mistake of stopping at his pack to dig out his purses. She found him there, slumped over his gold, run through from behind. Blood had coated the open purse and dulled the gleam of the coins.

  She thought about kicking Bali, too, but he was so pathetic in death that adding further insult to his corpse seemed pointless. Instead she bent down to look in the purse. It was filled to bursting, a not-inconsiderable load for a grown man and a hopeless encumbrance for a girl of fifteen. She reached in, delicately, and extracted two fat golden eyes. That had been the slave-price Bali paid her father; more than the usual one-six he paid for children, she remembered, because there was a shortage of virgin girls in Corsa and the brothels were paying double.

  Veil tucked the coins into the pocket of her ragged shorts and sat down heavily on the already-warming sands, trying to decide whether or not she wanted to die.

  Even that was a bit egotistical, she had to admit.

  It’s not as though I have much of a choice. A hundred miles from home, in the middle of the trackless high desert, with no food and no water other than what she might salvage from the wreckage of the camp. The right thing to do, the logical thing, would be to lie down in the sun, enjoy the warmth, and slowly wither to a mummified corpse. Either that or, if she was feeling brave, borrow a dagger from one of the guards and end it herself. That would be the logical choice. No food, no water, no help, no chance.

  On the other hand, why not? Veil’s life had ended two months ago, when Kalil lost a war against Siorn and came up short on the reparations. And yet, I’m still here. Might as well make the most of it. What’s the worst that happens:, I die in the desert?

  She permitted herself a tight, sarcastic grin and went about stripping the bodies. She acquired a white cloth robe, suitable for desert wear, from Mahmata; it was a bit used and had a bloody hole through the middle, but Veil felt she wasn’t in a position to pick and choose. From Silel, after a brief internal struggle, she took shoes—real bound-leather shoes, better by far for loose sand than the sandals Veil was wearing. The two biggest water skins - which Bali had been carrying - she hoisted over one shoulder. The little canteens that everyone had carried she drained, drinking until she squelched at the edges. There was no food—presumably the stranger had taken it. Veil shrugged. If I live long enough that food becomes an issue, I’ll have gotten farther than I expected.

  She hesitated over the last item. It seemed pointless, really—there wasn’t a human for miles and miles , except for maybe the stranger, and there were no animals in the high desert. Nevertheless, she finally unstrapped Vosh’s short sword and slung it awkwardly over her other shoulder. It was only a piece of pointed steel, but it made her feel better.

  That left one last choice to make. Which direction to go?

  Two options presented themselves. She could backtrack, heading west toward the Red Hills and home. That did not sound promising—the hills themselves were rife with bandits and rebels, and soldiers hunting both. Not to mention it was at least two weeks’ walk through the high desert that way. And if I turned up again at Kalil’s door, what would he do? Probably chastise me for being disobedient and sell me to the next caravan that passed by, counting
himself lucky to get paid twice for the same girl. Veil’s memories of her father were understandably colored by recent events, but, even in the past, Kalil had not been the kindliest of men. Not that he’d been particularly cruel, either—he didn’t have time, with seven wives and uncounted children to manage, and there had been nannies and tutors to dispense the punishments. But she remembered him as distant, and cold.

  Still, she hesitated. There was someone at home who would welcome her. Kyre. He was her truebrother, sharing both a father and a mother, born almost two years to the day before her. He’d cried, a little, when Kalil announced that she was to be sold. Afterwards, as she’d sat on her bunk in stunned silence, he’d kissed her lightly on the cheek and told her not to worry. Kyre would be happy to see me.

  The other choice was south. The trail was clear enough, for the moment, a line of footprints running straight as an arrow across the sand. The first wind would obliterate them, but the baking air had barely stirred. The stranger had gone that way.

  Bali had been heading vaguely south, she knew. There were oases, and little towns where you could buy water. She’d searched his body for a map, but either the slaver had navigated by memory or the stranger had taken it; probably the former, since Bali was—had been—only barely literate. Go south far enough, and the desert ran out. The city of Corsa was out there, somewhere. Every vile, nasty story Veil had ever heard had been set in Corsa; apparently the place was populated entirely by slavers and pirates, and operated beyond the reach of Khaev law.

  It was ultimately curiosity that helped her to make up her mind. One man against seven. Her memories of the fight were confused, a blur of blood and flashing steel, but she remembered the stranger. All in black, and he’d moved like a phantom. He won’t last, in the heat. He’ll have to rest. I can catch up with him, and he has the food. He’d killed everyone, even the women and slaves. He didn’t kill me. In all likelihood, he hadn’t even noticed her—Mahmata had fallen on top of her, and Veil had fainted. But, still...

  The sun had climbed higher, and the sand was getting hot. Veil struggled to her feet, water skins clonking heavily against her breast, and started south. One step at a time, one foot after the other.

  JUST AFTER MIDDAY, when the sun was at its hottest, she finally caught sight of him.

 

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