Presently the others stirred. Shelim brought them food shortly afterwards. The Anthorians were in good humour, especially Drinagish. He was pleased with the fight and would have recounted a graphic description of every sword stroke he had delivered when Menish interrupted.
“Drinagish, we have a woman of Golshuz in our midst. They are not, as our own folk, made for war.” But he smiled at his nephew as he spoke. He seemed pleased with Drinagish’s performance of yesterday.
Hrangil looked tired. His injured leg still immobilised him and he seemed hurt in other places. But Azkun perceived his satisfaction with the fight. It was as if fighting were a thing to be lived for, to be sought after to test oneself. It repelled Azkun, but he was growing inured to darkness. As long as he rejected food he felt that this crime would not be a part of him. It was not a good answer to corruption, he was not even sure if it was as good an answer as Althak had given Keashil, but it sufficed for now.
Even so he could not stay with them long. Death was still appalling, and every move they made brought back little visions of battle and blood and darkness. Menish had just suggested that Keashil could, if she wished, accompany them to Atonir where she could be placed under the Emperor’s protection when he excused himself and walked to the bows.
His head no longer hurt, the dizziness had left him and even the swelling in his forehead was reduced. Tenari followed on his heels and even imitated the way he leaned over the gunwale to watch the bow wave. He looked at her again. At least she did not eat. If she did nothing else she did nothing that brought him distress.
He stood watching the bow wave for a long time, trying to find an answer to the complexities that surrounded him. He could not stomach death, yet what else could they have done when the pirates attacked? He had felt Thalissa’s pain and had done nothing. Menish had acted, though he did not understand what he had done. He had felt Keashil’s pain and Althak’s comfort. They were killers, these friends of his, but they had answers to pain where he had only spectres in the dark and an enigmatic companion.
His thoughts were interrupted by a splash on the other side of the boat.
He thought someone must have fallen overboard and rushed to the other gunwale. There was nothing.
“I heard a splash!” he called to Shelim who was not far away. The sailor strolled over to him, unconcerned.
“Don’t worry. It's only a dolphin.”
“Dolphin?”
“Yes, a fish of sorts. They're sacred to Yaggrothil, the dragon of the deep. You can see it below the surface, there.”
Azkun looked into the water again. A silver-grey shape darted along beneath the bow wave. As he watched it rose to the surface, broke water and plunged under again. He caught a glimpse of a sleek body and a powerful tail, little more. But he also touched its mind.
A bubbling enthusiasm burst from the water. It spoke of foam and sea and deep, cool places. It was not like the horses with their dull, plodding minds that thought of food and rest more than anything else. This was a laughing creature with an infectious delight in itself. Nor was it like the human minds, they were such complex things whose thoughts were never clear until they spoke. Here was pure, simple joy.
Azkun laughed with it, absorbing its joy as his own.
The dolphin was suddenly aware of him and the joy changed to curiosity. A question without words was passed to Azkun, what manner of creature was he? He did not know how to reply. The dolphin’s mind was different from his own. It was a sea creature, it thought of currents where he thought of wind, and the currents were far more important to it. It knew only light and dark where he saw sunrise and sunset. He was reminded of Keashil, how she held a different view of the same world, how touch and sound ruled her perception rather than sight.
Nevertheless he tried. He formed an image of himself, a human figure, and sent it to the place where their minds touched. A kind of speech became possible in this way and Azkun found that he could converse with the dolphin to some extent. Often the creature would bombard him with chatter that he could make no sense of, but he could understand much of the rest.
At first his picture of a man confused the dolphin. It laughed at him, called him a shark or some other large, jawed fish, and dived deep. A moment later Azkun saw it leap from the water some distance from the boat. It did this several times, each time leaping completely clear of the waves. It dived deep again and Azkun thought it was gone.
But it reappeared at the bows. He felt its mind touch his again.
“Truth,” it said in its bubbling mind pictures. “Sun on back, back of whale-log stands a man. Not blister? Not dive for cool deep?”
“We live on land, not water. The sun does not hurt us,” insisted Azkun. The dolphin was slow to understand. The idea of wanting to stay out of the water was too foreign to it. He tried to project the idea of sinking below the waves and drowning. Some of the pirates had drowned and he had felt their darkness.
“Deep, deep, cool, deep,” replied the dolphin. “But surface for air, blow spout, dive again.”
It took some time to convince the dolphin that he could not swim and had no intention of trying now. The darkness of drowning pirates was too close to him. The dolphin did not understand this. Life was a game, it laughed, and new games were good. Should he not try everything new?
Its laughter continued. It was a happy creature, delighting in riding the bow wave of the ship and it was happy to converse with Azkun. He learned much. It measured time in heartbeats not days, for it did not sleep at night. Distance was also measured in heartbeats, as was depth. When Azkun asked about its fellows the dolphin referred to a tribe or extended family it roamed the oceans with. Its life was taken up with games, fishing and mating. Azkun was disappointed to hear that it relished fresh fish, but that was the way of things until it could be changed.
With its tribe the dolphin had travelled far. It had been to the warm southern waters where fish were bright colours and strange shapes and the sun shone through the water.
It had been to the north as well and even knew the mouth of the Chasm. There was a strong current of cold water flowing out of it but many fish in the warmer waters on either side. The dolphin told Azkun of the very far north, where huge rocks coloured blue and green floated on the water, where enormous fish swam and sang deep-throated songs that echoed for miles across the ocean.
Azkun was interested in these tales, or what he could make of the tumbling impressions he received from the dolphin. But he sometimes wondered if the creature was not imagining some of it. Its glee was contagious, though. His spirits were lifted by its bubbling laughter, even when it told of hunting fish or, in turn, being hunted by the dreadful orca. It spoke of the orcas as ‘brother killers’, as if it shared a strange bond with them.
Azkun was also interested in its accounts of mating. He had not recognised his human companions’ desire to hunt and kill until he had seen it. Now he began to recognise the ideas the dolphin told of in some of the misunderstood thoughts he had seen in his friends’ minds. Drinagish was Menish’s nephew, he had heard them say that, he had known the words, but he had not appreciated the concepts behind such family relationships before. It was somehow predatory, this creation of life. Inherent in it was the destruction of life as well, for birth makes death necessary, feeding the darkness.
It was well into the morning when the dolphin mentioned in passing a place of dragons. It wove a brief picture of a rocky island far away and laughed onto other subjects.
Azkun stopped it.
“What is this place of many dragons?”
“Dragons, dragons everywhere. Flying, diving, fire, hot water, burning,” it laughed back. “Tall rocks, black, black, sharp. Scratch skin.”
“An island?”
“Far, far away. Many heartbeats, many seaweed shifts back and forth.”
“Where?”
“Across wide, warm current, drifts, drifts, then forward.”
This told Azkun little. He did not know the sea curre
nts well enough even to guess which direction the island lay. But the dolphin was certain of it. It laughed its bubbling laughter as Azkun’s mind raced.
Dragons! He looked at Tenari. They had not come when he was besieged by spectres. It was Tenari who had rescued him twice now, three times if he had not dreamed the episode of the dead man’s finger. She was solid, like a block of granite, bright as fire when the darkness was filled with spectres. And she was as blank as a stone.
Yet before him, in his mind’s eye, he could still see the glorious creature shining in the sunlight. He could still feel the tingle as he had been enveloped in the flame, as words had leapt into his mind and he had known speech for the first time.
At this the dolphin gave an anxious thought and severed the connection between their minds. Azkun had to reach gently out to it and coax it back to him.
“Dragon, flame, hot water, scald, death.”
“No, it breathed gentle fire. It gave me life.” He tried to picture his existence in the Chasm, but it was difficult to gather enough impressions together to pass anything coherent to the dolphin. All he could do was repeat his reassurance that the dragons were benevolent and kind, not the monsters the dolphin thought. And one other thought he sent.
“Could you guide me to the island?”
“Dragons, hot water, scald and burn.” The dolphin seemed to be muttering to itself. “Dolphin-not-dolphin, log-not-log, sun on back does no harm, not blister, not burn. Dragon, hot water, no harm to dolphin-not-dolphin.” It chortled to itself, pleased that it had solved the puzzle. “Far, far away. Dolphin take dolphin-not-dolphin, follow?”
Azkun laughed with it.
“No! I cannot go yet. It is not time.” He could guess Menish’s reaction to a request to turn the ship and follow the dolphin to the isle of dragons.
“Time, heartbeats, waves back and forth, light, dark, when?”
“I do not know. Perhaps I must wait for the dragons’ call,” he replied. “I wonder if that will ever be.”
“Light, dark, seaweed swaying, echoes from afar. What fish will you eat, games will you play, mates will you take?”
“I travel to a place called Atonir. I think it is a city, a tribe-in-one-place, of my kind.”
“Tribe-in-one-place? Many not-dolphins not swimming, not going to dragon island, not playing?” It chortled. “Call dolphin when the seaweed swaying, heartbeats are enough. Call dolphin when dragons call not-dolphin. Call, call, echo through the sea when the seaweed swaying makes it time. Not-dolphin follow dolphin.” Joy bubbled from it as it thought of the game, for it was only a game. It did not understand compulsions of any kind, except to procure joy.
“You will answer? How? I travel far.”
“Call, call,” it laughed. “Dolphins call forever. Tribe calls dolphin. Dolphin calls tribe. Not-dolphin calls tribe, calls dolphin…” Its thoughts collapsed into mirth.
Suddenly it was alert and serious.
“Tribe, tribe, tribe calls. Many dolphins, far away, cry beware. Dive deep, dive close.”
“Orca?” asked Azkun.”
“No, orca is for the weak, this kills all, beware dolphin. Not-dolphin afraid?”
“I do not know what the danger is.”
“Boiling waves, cold, toss and turn, surface, cannot find surface. Darkness and bright. Crash and foam.”
“A storm! You mean a storm!”
“Dive deep, dive close. Safety nowhere, find calm, no calm. I must seek. Farewell. Call when dragons call.”
And it was gone. Azkun caught a silver-grey flash flitting towards the distant shore, and that was all. Shelim had mentioned the danger of storms along this part of the coast. He scanned the horizon, uncertain as to what he should find. A mass of dark clouds hung in the east, but they were far away. Was that a storm?
He made his way back to the others near the base of the main mast. They were dozing in the sunlight, except for Drinagish. Although he looked as if he were asleep his mind groaned with the sea retch. Someone had placed a wooden bucket near him for he was too weary to make his way to the gunwales. Althak and Olcish were also awake. Althak was showing him his ornate armour and the boy was gazing with wide eyes at his bright, winged helmet. The Vorthenki placed it on the boy’s head. It immediately slipped forward, covering his eyes and he chuckled. Azkun watched them for a moment.
Beside Olcish, Althak really was large. He was like most of the Vorthenki, over six feet tall, and Olcish was only a small boy. Althak removed the helmet, it was uncomfortably heavy for Olcish. He placed it on his own head and pushed it forward into the fighting position so that most of his face was covered. All that could be seen were his blue eyes and part of his mouth. It turned him from a man into an avenging angel with bronze wings at his temples.
They were dragon wings. Azkun had not noticed before, but he had just been picturing the dragon for the dolphin. They were not feathered wings like the gulls but ribbed membranes like those of a dragon. One of them had taken a blow from a pirate’s sword and was bent out of line.
Althak removed his helmet and became himself again. He noticed Azkun and smiled a greeting. Azkun sat down beside him.
“I think there is a storm coming.”
“Yes,” said Althak, unsurprised, “there is. Omoth noticed dark clouds in the east not long ago. I've not yet told our sleeping friends and I dare not tell Drinagish!”
“You do not seem worried.”
Althak shrugged.
“The pirates were a greater threat. But we are in the hands of Kopth.” He glanced at the sleeping Anthorians. “At least I am,” he grinned. Then, seeing that Azkun was still concerned he added, “some ships are lost in storms along this coast every year, but not usually in this season. This storm will pass quickly and should not trouble us much.”
“Then there is no danger?”
“Not much. Shelim has gone below to make sure that everything is fastened securely. No doubt our friends here will be violently ill again.”
“Althak, I wish to ask you something about dragons.”
“You would ask me? Of course. But I haven't stood in dragon fire.”
“There is an island, or possibly a mountain near the sea, where the dragons live, is there not? Do you know it?”
Althak’s eyebrows rose suddenly.
“An island? Yes, yes there is. It's well known. The dragon isle of Kishalkuz.”
“Where is this island? Have you been there?”
Althak laughed. “Not I, nor anyone you will find. No one knows exactly where the island is. Somewhere in the east it lies, where the sun rises from the sea, it's said, and if any have found it none have returned. It's the home of Kopth and his household.”
“Then you cannot tell me how to find it?”
“Some have said they know the way. Some who have sought to gaze on the face of Kopth have set out to find Kishalkuz. But, as I said, none have returned.”
“Then how is it known to you?”
The Vorthenki looked at him shrewdly.
“Who would doubt the word of Kopth?”
“Kopth told you?”
“So I'm told. Kopth may walk among our people taking human form as he desires. It is his right.”
“I wish to go there one day, perhaps, when we have seen this Emperor that Menish talks of.”
“Perhaps… have you heard anything of Vorish?”
“No. He is a ruler, like Menish, I suppose.”
“Like and yet not like. Vorish is not like other men at all. You'll see the difference when you meet him.”
“Is he some sort of monster then? You speak as though he is.”
“It's difficult to explain. He's not a monster, though I've heard him called that. He has eyes that probe for the truth when one would, perhaps, rather the truth was hidden. He's fiercely just and often cruel, and for this, also, do the Vorthenki in Relanor love him.”
“You speak as though you, yourself, were no longer Vorthenki.”
Althak grinned. He looked down
at little Olcish who was examining his great shield with the spiked boss. “Careful, it's sharp.” He turned back to Azkun with an oddly poignant look in his blue eyes.
“I am Vorthenki,” he said carefully. “I worship Kopth where these…” he nodded towards his sleeping friends, “revere Gilish and Aton. In Anthor there are many who call me barbarian for this. They think I should become one of them, I should take on their ways. But do you know, Azkun, that they marry one woman and never have another all their lives? That's their way. For myself I have one god and will not take another all my life. This, to me, seems right.”
“And yet?” said Azkun.
“And yet I live with the Anthorians instead of in Relanor or in the north where my people are. I'll tell you a story told to me by my father when I was the size of Olcish here.
“My father was a chieftain in the invasion of Relanor. He led three shiploads of Vorthenki warriors to Atonir under Sinalth, our warlord at the time. They had learned that Relanor was stripped of its armies in the war against Gashan so they came south along the route we now travel. All together there were a hundred and fifty ships, an enormous expedition. They approached Atonir under cover of night and overwhelmed the city before the next dawn. There was much fighting from the peasants but they only had farm implements and tools.
“The great palace was largely undefended. It was occupied by old men, veterans but too old to fight, who formed a nominal guard, and women sorrowing for their men lost in the north. You must understand that the Relanese women, like the Vorthenki women, take no part in battles and aren't trained for war.
“When the Invaders crashed down the great gates they mowed down the guards like wheat in the field and set about sacking the palace. There was no one to resist them.
“But they were mistaken. They surged up the first grand stairway and found flaming oil from the lamps cast in their faces, arrows rained down on them and rocks and stones. A javelin pierced my father’s armour and forced him to retire from the skirmish.
“At the head of the stairway stood a lone woman. There was only one, the others were weeping and hysterical in their apartments. This one chose to fight. She had stationed herself where they could approach her no more than two at once. When she had thrown her oil and spears she brandished a sword and taunted them to come and see which of them would die first.
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