Firestorm Page 6

  ‘I won’t repeat the details,’ he said more harshly than he intended. ‘The father set the house ablaze and then himself. His wife burned while trying to rescue their children. No matter what we tried, we couldn’t put out the flames.’ He paused. ‘That’s why aberrations go to Parakat. They are unstable, a threat to their communities, to themselves.’

  ‘They wouldn’t be if you just left them alone,’ Kait said sharply. ‘People don’t like being imprisoned.’ Her eyes were haunted, but not, Hagdon thought, by his story. ‘You forced that man into a corner. The only choice you left him with was whether to take his children’s lives before you could.’

  ‘What will happen to Parakat now the emperor is gone?’ Nediah asked. For a quiet man, his tone was unusually direct.

  Hagdon rubbed his forehead. ‘When Iresonté looks at an aberration, she sees potential instead of a problem. I don’t know what she plans for them.’

  ‘Tava worked for her,’ Irilin said.

  Hagdon remembered the boy, his amber eyes and hollow loyalty. ‘Yes, but she miscalculated, didn’t she? Tava was not as tame as he appeared.’

  Irilin scowled. ‘We’re not animals.’

  ‘A metaphor, sorry.’

  Nediah had been listening closely, hands steepled beneath his chin. ‘The aberrations in Parakat have no love for Iresonté,’ he said, ‘or the army. The only way they’d cooperate is under duress.’ He dropped his hands, leaned forward. ‘But we can offer them far more than she can.’

  A slow smile crept over Kait’s face. ‘Freedom in exchange for their service.’

  ‘We’ll teach them, hone their skills.’ Nediah’s eyes were bright. ‘How many in Parakat, Hagdon?’

  Hagdon shook his head. ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Between fifty and a hundred, I think,’ Mercia spoke up. ‘Parakat is built to hold far more, but few survive a year there.’

  ‘The lieutenant has a point,’ Hagdon said. ‘Many will be too young, too old or too ill to fight their way out.’ Despite his words, his mind had begun to turn over the possibility. He’d seen Kait’s and Nediah’s power, had Irilin’s turned against him. The aberrations were weaker, but only, perhaps, through lack of training. Although he couldn’t deny that the Republic needed the numbers, the thought of letting them loose raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  ‘Then we will need a very good plan,’ Kait said.

  Hagdon studied the three Wielders in the firelight. ‘You are seriously considering this?’

  ‘Can we afford not to?’ Nediah rejoined. ‘You say you don’t know what Iresonté plans, but she’s seen our abilities and has a history of making use of them. If we don’t go after the aberrations, she will. She’ll use her new position to change the rules, offer them terms before we can. If conditions in Parakat are as bad as you say, few people would turn down such an offer, no matter who was making it.’

  The cogs in Hagdon’s mind ground faster. He didn’t care for the idea, but if it gave them an opportunity to out-manoeuvre Iresonté … ‘Let’s say we set Parakat in our sights,’ he began, ‘we don’t have the numbers to storm it by force.’

  ‘Then we’ll play Iresonté at her own game,’ Irilin said. Hagdon thought he could discern the shape of an idea in her face. ‘We trick our way inside.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘You have a plan?’

  ‘I do.’ Irilin flashed him a crooked smile. ‘But it requires Lieutenant Mercia and her men.’

  ‘Breaking into Parakat?’ Mercia shrugged. ‘It’s not like I had anything better to do.’ And she ripped off another haunch of venison.

  6

  Kyndra

  Ma stood in the centre of the mandala, booted feet planted on the seven-pointed junction where the dragon’s blood pooled. Eyes closed, she muttered under her breath. It sounded more like cursing than arcane words. Kyndra wasn’t sure the Khronostians even used words as part of their rituals. The scions of time were a mystery to the stars.

  Ma extended her arms. Air distorted around her; she appeared to ripple. Char gave a grunt of alarm, but he didn’t move from his place. The bloodstained sand turned white around Ma’s boots, the cleansing spreading across the complex lines of the mandala, until it reached the wide circle that encompassed it. Here Ma seemed to pause. Sweat beaded her forehead; her breath came in gulps. She extended her arms further, turning her palms forward, and the dragon’s blood smoked as it left the sand.

  Kyndra found herself breathing shallowly. The chamber had grown close, as if a storm brewed between its walls. When she drew air into her lungs, it had a sour tang. She almost expected lightning to flash against the roof.

  Char’s hackles were raised now; a low growl issued from his throat. Above them, the great dragon began to stir as the blood disappeared from the mandala, leaving its sand pristine. Wind struck Kyndra, sent her stumbling back: the sweep of a huge wing. Ma gritted her teeth, her gaze fixed on the Lleu-yelin. There was a moment when they locked eyes, the dragon’s glittering and dark, Ma’s warm brown. Kyndra wasn’t sure but something seemed to pass between them. The ancient creature turned his head to look at Char and spoke in his own language, a language Char had never learned. But Kyndra knew it, as Ansu knew it.

  Vengeance, the dragon said in a howl of pain and rage. May your teeth meet in flesh.

  If he wanted to ask Char’s name, there was no time. With a tremendous crash, the dragon’s emaciated body fell to earth, decaying, becoming bones before their eyes: twenty years of postponed time passing in an instant. Char gave a cry of his own, somewhere between horror and anguish.

  Ma stood tall as the dragon’s bones toppled around her. The pressure in the room grew until Kyndra felt a trickle of blood run from one ear. She crouched, wrapping herself in Tyr, but the star couldn’t protect her against the sudden surge of time suppressed. Before it could catch her and Char up in its stream, Ma brought her hands down sharply and the storm seemed to reverse itself, spiralling back towards the woman who stood at its heart.

  The ouroboros on Ma’s palms flared to life. Veins of light spread from them up her bare arms, her neck and cheeks, turning her eyes white. For a moment, her whole form was ablaze, a pillar that connected her to the mandala, then the intricate pattern was gone, seared from the stone, and Ma fell to one knee, hand braced against the floor.

  Char had covered his head with a wing. Now he rushed forward, nosing at Ma until she raised an arm, putting it over his long neck. With his help, she stumbled to her feet. Her eyes were still white, but she blinked the brown back into them. ‘It’s done,’ she sighed.

  ‘What did you do?’ It was Era’s question, the star’s interest keen on Kyndra’s tongue.

  Ma took a few moments to compose herself. ‘I broke the link, absorbed the mandala’s power.’

  ‘Couldn’t the eldest have tried the same?’

  Ma shook her head, her expression grim. ‘Besides freeing the Lleu-yelin, the act of absorbing it would have torn him apart. Instead, he will take what he needs from my people, no matter the cost to them.’

  Char gave a grunt that sounded like reproach. ‘You didn’t say it was so dangerous.’

  ‘I did not,’ Ma agreed. Her smile was brief and sad. ‘But you forget. I am Khronos, the first. I taught them everything.’

  Kyndra gazed at the pile of scale and bone that moments ago had been a dragon and felt a flicker of melancholy. ‘It is a shame it had to be this way,’ she heard herself say.

  Char swung his head to stare at her, yellow eyes aglow in the dusty air. It was a strange look, appraising, and Kyndra didn’t understand it. Uncomfortable for some reason, she glanced aside.

  ‘They are coming,’ Char said suddenly. Ma let go of him and they all moved to stand before the rounded double doors of the chamber. When they opened, Kyndra could only stare, left breathless by the majesty of the Lleu-yelin.

  There were around a dozen of them, all seven feet tall and humanoid in appearance – just as Char had looked after the first part of his ch
ange was complete. Long, wild hair swept from every head in shades ranging from midnight to dawn grey to fire. Ridged cheekbones, pointed ears, their only adornment sinewy ribbons looped about each wrist. Kyndra had to crane her neck to look up into their slitted eyes. She couldn’t read their expressions and it occurred to her how this would appear: the three of them spattered with blood from the battle, standing among the bones of a dragon.

  In moments, they were surrounded. The eyes of the Lleu-yelin went straight to Char. He was hard to miss, after all. A crimson-scaled female came towards him, and Char, to Kyndra’s surprise, dipped his head in obeisance.

  ‘Who are you, risling?’

  Char brought his head up. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘She asked you who you were,’ Kyndra supplied helpfully. Char gave her a look and she shrugged. ‘Do you want me to translate, or not?’

  ‘There is no need,’ the female said with a slight frown, reverting to the common tongue. It sounded oddly sibilant in her mouth. ‘I asked after your parentage.’

  Before Char could answer, another female snapped, ‘This will wait.’ Golden-haired, tawny-scaled, she rounded on Kyndra and Ma. ‘Who are you? Where are the Khronostians?’

  ‘Gone,’ Ma said calmly. ‘The battle is long over.’

  A ripple ran around the Lleu-yelin circle and Kyndra couldn’t help noticing how long their talons were. Gazes strayed to the remains of the dragon, to the great skull that rested nearby. ‘But we felt the Chimer’s passing,’ one said, plainly confused, ‘only minutes ago.’

  The tawny female peered over Ma’s head at the heap of bones. ‘We felt his pain and his thirst for vengeance.’ The slitted eyes she turned back to them were full of suspicion. ‘Why would he feel such?’

  ‘You were imprisoned in a pocket of static time for twenty years,’ Ma said casually, as if something so remarkable were commonplace. ‘The Khronostian eldest used your Chimer’s lifeforce to maintain the prison. He was the focus.’ She bowed her head. ‘I broke the link that kept him alive. It was the only way.’

  ‘She speaks the truth,’ Kyndra said to the tawny female. ‘I know it must sound confusing, but we’re not your enemies.’

  Gleaming eyes traced the patterns on Kyndra’s face. ‘You are Starborn,’ the female replied, seeming surprised. ‘The Starborn do not choose their allies lightly.’

  ‘No,’ Kyndra agreed.

  The female pointed at Ma. ‘But she is Khronostian, no? I see the marks on her hands.’

  ‘Ma left her people. It’s down to her that you’re free now.’

  Silence. Most faces wore confusion. And I don’t blame them, Kyndra thought. For the Lleu-yelin, no time had passed since the attack twenty years before.

  ‘Kierik is dead, then,’ a third Lleu-yelin spoke up, a male near the back of the group.

  ‘I am his daughter.’ Kyndra felt nothing now at the truth of it. ‘I was forced to break his power, restore Rairam to Acre.’

  For the first time, the tawny female seemed unsure. ‘Rairam, the lost continent, has returned? When did this happen?’

  ‘About four months ago.’

  The female exchanged looks with the other Lleu-yelin before turning to the steps outside where a fully fledged dragon crouched, his scales the darkest blue. They locked gazes; silent words seeming to pass between them. Her mate, Kyndra guessed.

  ‘Much has changed while you have lain unknowing,’ Ma said.

  ‘Normally, I would take you to the Chimer and let him decide.’ The female’s golden eyes returned to Kyndra. ‘But we have always respected the Starborn. If you vouch for the Khronostian’s story and agree to tell us it in full, we will let her live.’

  ‘What do you remember?’ Kyndra asked curiously.

  A snarl grew on the female’s lips. ‘Fighting,’ she said. ‘Chaos. The attack came as a surprise. We were unprepared, had no time to shelter our young, but still we were winning.’ Amidst growls of agreement, she added, ‘And then I felt the Chimer die. It couldn’t be – I swear the Khronostians hadn’t passed beyond the outer circle.’

  ‘Twenty years separated that attack and your Chimer’s death,’ Kyndra said.

  The Lleu-yelin slowly shook her head. Others echoed her movement. ‘I cannot believe it. Do the children of Khronos truly possess such power?’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kyndra saw Ma flinch. ‘They do,’ the mercenary said. ‘And they only grow stronger.’

  The female fixed her with a hostile gaze. ‘And what of your part in this, Khronostian? Why have you come here now, professing friendship?’

  ‘I was with the du-alakat that attacked Magtharda,’ Ma said, ignoring the flexing of claws, the angry hiss that swept around the Lleu-yelin circle. ‘I was a child. I could do nothing to stop them.’ She gestured at Char. ‘But I could do one thing. I could save an infant, separated from his mother in the chaos of battle.’

  Everyone’s attention returned to Char. He was silent, caught up in Ma’s tale. Kyndra guessed that this was the first time he’d heard it told truthfully.

  ‘I took him from here,’ Ma said. ‘I left my people and I raised him among humans.’

  Sounds of disgust greeted her words. ‘Humans would not have taken well to one of ours,’ the tawny female said, folding her arms. ‘How did you keep him safe from them?’

  ‘By delaying his change.’

  The Lleu-yelin’s lip curled. ‘Such a thing has never been done. It was shameful to force him to wear the human skin past his time.’

  ‘It kept him alive and undetected by my people,’ Ma snapped. Char was one of the only subjects over which she lost her composure. ‘I knew they would come for me. And when they did, they would discover who I was protecting.’

  ‘The change cannot be denied forever,’ the female said after a moment. Her mouth twitched. ‘I expect it was something to behold.’

  ‘You could say that,’ Kyndra agreed.

  ‘Who gave him his name?’

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t know it until I knew my own.’

  The Lleu-yelin did not ask her what she meant. Instead the tawny female addressed Char. ‘I am known as Sesh. What is your name, risling?’

  The atmosphere in the chamber seemed to solidify. ‘Orkaan,’ Char told them.

  ‘It is proof beyond all you have said,’ Sesh murmured. ‘When I saw you last, you were no larger than my forearm.’ She glanced over her shoulder at her mate. ‘Go. Bring Ekaar.’

  The blue dragon swung his head in acknowledgement, spread mottled wings and took off. When he was gone, Sesh turned back to Char. ‘Your scales,’ she said, half lifting a hand as if to touch them. ‘You have her mark about you.’

  ‘Who is Ekaar?’ But Char’s yellow eyes were widening; Kyndra could tell that he already knew.

  ‘She is your mother,’ Sesh said.

  7

  Gareth

  The first thing Gareth knew was darkness.

  It was deep, this darkness, and close. Instead of the heaviness of stone, the weight of earth pressed upon him, musty, dank. Being buried alive might feel like this, sound muted by dirt – he could hear Brégenne’s calls as if through water, distorted by the smothering walls of the mound. But he wasn’t alive, Gareth thought grimly. He belonged here in the silence of the tomb.

  The gauntlet gave off a fitful eldritch light. Under its illumination, he saw a path curving away from him. Humps arrested its shallow descent at even intervals. Gareth didn’t want to know what lay beneath them.

  The ceiling was low. He reached up, running his hands along the packed dirt. If it weren’t for the gauntlet, he could punch his way out with the Solar, but it was too painful to wield. And the gauntlet would never let me leave so easily.

  Gareth turned back to the winding path. It rounded a corner a little way ahead, dropping out of sight. Staring at it, wondering whether it led to an exit, he realized that whatever force had dragged him through solid earth had gone, the compulsion ebbing away now that he was here.<
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  It was strange to feel fear without feeling it. No sweaty palms or racing heart. No gooseflesh or hairs standing on end. Perhaps it was this which moved his feet – the fact that what was dead could not die. There are worse things, he thought, or the other did. The presence seemed stronger here inside the mound. Snippets of that strange, familiar language ran through his head. Part of him did not understand; another part did.

  He turned the corner to find more passage. It reminded him of Naris and his journey through the archives. So far away now that it might as well have happened to someone else. Shika, he thought suddenly. Shika would hate this. Because worms burrowed through the walls, their bodies pale in the sickly light of the gauntlet. Gareth fixed his gaze ahead and kept on, gradually leaving the earth and its creatures behind.

  Stone began to line the passageway. Carvings that looped and spiralled until they were lost in themselves. Gareth reached out, rested his cold fingertips against the colder wall. Again there was something familiar about the markings; he felt like a stranger in a foreign land instinctively recognizing words that ordered his death. He took his hand away.

  He no longer needed the gauntlet’s glow. Rusted candelabra stood here and there, flames tinged an unearthly blue. Who lit them? he wondered, How long have they burned? What power rules here? Gareth shook his head. He knew what power ruled here, he’d seen it in his dreams. These empty passages invited him to meet it.

  Rounding the next corner, he saw a pillared room, lit with more candelabra. The passage he followed ran right round it and a rough balcony and steps led down to the sunken floor. Gareth stopped, staring at the great table laid as if for a feast. Tarnished pitchers, once filled perhaps with wine, lay cobwebbed among silver plates. Bones rested there, the flesh of whatever animal they belonged to having long withered around them. Little bowls of salt were the only things to have survived the centuries. It was a feast for the dead and stone chairs circled the table.